Old SWC Pages of mine:
July 2024: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/769192/
July 2023: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/695020/
November 2022: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/639162
July 2022: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/614334/
July 2021: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/527913/

Relevant studio links this year:
Main Horror cabin: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/37083474/comments
Horror word counting: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/50595602/comments
Cabin guide: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1193100882
Main cabin: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/50665171/comments
My invite comment: https://scratch.mit.edu/users/savebats/#comments-382894350
My sister (@Starthorn's) Scratch Discuss page this time: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/828712/

Hello! I’m Savebats (I forgot to capitalize my username when I made my account and it has been annoying me ever since), or Bats for short. I suppose you could also call me Save, as I quite like that nickname as well, but I’ve been told it doesn’t roll off the tongue in as satisfying of a way so I suppose the choice is up to you! Most people go with Bats rather than Save. My pronouns are she/her/hers, if you absolutely have to call me another one please do not bother using pronouns at all. (That was a bit of a joke, people often use they/them for me even after I told them I don't use it haha. It's not that big of a deal but I did feel like making a little joke about my preferences. You're all so real though.)

This year I’m in the Horror cabin. Strangely enough I believe I’ve been in the Horror cabin three times out of my six Scratch Writing Camp sessions when counting this current season as one of them. (If you wondered, I’m pretty sure I was in Dystopian for two of the others and Adventure for the first.) If that is horribly incorrect please don’t bother correcting me, it’s a reality that makes me laugh. In the Horror cabin as I so often am, such laughter can be a very brief respite. (That was a bit of silly role playing, how do you think I did? I'm actually gonna try to pay attention to the cabin plot for the first time!! Wish me luck!)

Have I begun to sound like I'm rambling yet? A little? Alright, well, this is my second time writing a one thousand word intro and it isn't any easier than the first time. Talking about myself is quite hard for me, and I know for most fellow Scratch Writing Campers that feeling is pretty familiar. But that's a bit too personal of lore, I have a tiny bit more to say other than that, so we won't have to get into that just yet. (If ever I hope.) (…do you think I overuse parentheses in my voice heavy writing? Somehow they make me feel a bit better about people reading it. I heard “parentheses aren't supposed to hold important information,” it danced around in my brain a bit, and transformed into, “parentheses are like whispering so not everyone can hear you.” And then I whooped and cheered, in my parentheses of course.)

Wow, who in the world just whispered for a whole minute. I have stuff to say!!

Alright, now that she's stopped, I gotta go and say some more stuff. Hmm. What is relevant for Scratch Writing Camp? I'm never exactly sure. Do you want to hear what fandoms I'm interested in?? Whoop dee do can I talk about that! I talked about Shark Wars by EJ Altbacker for one third of a three hour car ride before and was prepared to say more (now my sisters won't even let me mention Shark Wars in their presence). I will spare you that particular ramble (for now), but before finishing this intro you are going to hear a bit more about stuff I like.

My favorite thing ever is Pokemon. Yeah, the franchise. I don't really play the games very often (though I just caught a shiny Zamazenta with good IVs in Pokemon GO and am very happy, if that means anything to you), but I really like the various Pokemon Mangas and the Ash focused Pokemon Anime. That is not to say I have not given other Pokemon animes a shot, but the Ash anime is just too classic for me. I haven't finished all thirty or so seasons, but I seem to like Indigo League, Master Quest, and the XYZ situation the most. My favorite Pokemon manga is Pokemon Diamond and Pearl Adventure, and the next best is the far more classic Pokemon Adventures. (My favorite arches are Red Blue Green, Yellow, Black and White (right now), and unfortunately Sun and Moon.) My favorite characters are far too much to get into right now because this paragraph about very surface level Pokemon things is already the longest paragraph in this intro so far. Sorry about that. Anyway, my favorite Pokemon is Beedrill, and then probably (bonus points if it is shiny) Whimpod. I really like the ugly little bug type guys. They mean the word to me. My favorite game is Fire Red Leaf Green, by virtue of it being pretty much the only main-line game I've played. (I've also played Pokemon GO, the Pokemon Trading Card Game, Pokemon Trading Card Game 2 for the Gameboy Advance, Pokepark Pika's Adventure, and Pokemon Battle Revolution. None of those are known for their… amazingness. I do like all of them though!) However! I must stop talking about Pokemon right now or it will become the only thing in my intro and I do not think that was what I was meant to be doing with my time.

Okay. Some other completely random fandoms I like, this time in a quick run so you neither question me or have to read a whole long paragraph. Hetalia (mostly the anime), Gameknight999 (mostly the first two archs), Scratchcraft, Hermitcraft (mostly seasons 6 and 7), Life Series SMP (mostly 3rd Life), Magic Tree House (don't worry about it), Skyborn, Warrior Cats (almost entirely Omen of The Stars), How To Train Your Dragon books and movies (not live action, mostly the books), Percy Jackson and related fandoms, Serafina Series, lowkey a little bit of the Dream SMP still, emo bands like Panic! At The Disco and Falling In Reverse and Get Scared (music mostly but I KNOW the lore), and some other things too probably. I just noticed I'm reaching the end of my 1k words so I should get to wrapping this up.

Sorry you had to get through that paragraph about Pokemon (trust me, that barely scratched the surface), let's have a good Scratch Writing Camp and let's get climbing our scary skyscraper!!

My first goal this SWC session is to get to at least 50k words written, my second is to complete (or at least continue) an unfinished fanfiction I have been working on for five years, my third goal is to do every daily and weekly (again), and my fourth goal is pretty unrelated to SWC, but is to complete my resume and apply for jobs.

Comments in Scratch Writing Camp can be super interesting, so not only is this goal super cool and unique, it also sounds like a lot of fun! (Most things about Scratch Writing Camp are pretty fun, but reading feels like such a wonderful break from writing, the goal is not only cool, but also respectable and understandable!) These affirmations can easily be made into inspiration for you to get to reading! Think about how fun reading comments is, and how cool the goal is, and how nice of a break it may be.

Reading every single comment may be quite a lot for one person to do, but even a fraction of “every” Scratch Writing Camp comment carries a wonderful amount of fun and emotion behind it, something which is absolutely worth aiming for. You may even think about reading the comments with someone else who would be entertained by them, perhaps a friend, sibling or parent. Such a sharing of time may help to make the time even more fun for you, making the goal more doable by making you want to come back to it over and over again.

So, as a refresher, your goal is not only unique and cool, but also has the potential to make a good break from the difficult parts of Scratch Writing Camp, gain you friends in the program, and strengthen the bonds you already have in real life. All of these reasons are entirely respectable as ways to push yourself to completing (or at least entertaining) this goal! And, of course, I hope that my words may help you as well, “You can do it! Have fun!!”

words are so Incredible because they tell stories that make me feel like I can destroy famous landmarks Without a permit with nominal consequences everyone should destroy important buildings and create arson with their powerful words.

Ellie stretched a big stretch, smiling as the sun warmed her feathers as they shivered with the size of the stretch. She held one arm over her head, with the other holding it securely around the middle as if scared it would pop off her body if she stretched it too far. The concern wasn't the most valid thing in the world, but she had been lifting heavy baskets of seeds and earth all day, and though a lot of the work had been concentrated in her wings as she fought to bring the stuff back and forth across the fields, her arms had taken quite a bit of the weight as well. That was just the kind of thing she wasn't going to have to get used to if she wanted to be a real contender in the ascension to being a Goldwing. (She'd heard Zain talking to some of his high clan friends about the kinds of weapons that prospective Goldwings had to carry up that dizzying mountain peak, and the very idea of lugging a broadsword straight up any sort of distance was enough to make her arms hurt.)

She'd decided then that carrying the heavy baskets in her arms was just as important as getting the speed of flying across the entire sunflower field in double the time of her fellow sunflower workers. Speed was important to the race of ascension, of course it was, but to hold her own she was going to have to get a little bit more balanced with her muscle mass than just in her wings. How else would she get to the level of the Goldwing who had fought that Gargoyl? A Goldwing with no weapon (as she'd heard Zain joking with his high clan friends), wasn't exactly much better than a Goldwing with clipped feathers.

Even so… Ellie let her arms fall back to her sides, though they still ached for a little more attention from the stretch. Her wings, though she relaxed them slightly, did not get the rest that her arms did. Weapons were important, but wings were even more so. Without the natural wing length and seemingly natural upper body strength of Zain and his fellow Hawks (and other high clan people like Eagles and Falcons), she was going to have to put her all into speed. That wsa one of the good things about being a Sparrow, she supposed, how quick she could move and how fast she could turn. Even Zain couldn't rival her when she weaved between light fixtures and fences on her way across town.

Ellie gazed up at the cloudless sky and felt her wings shiver again, but not with the feeling of a good stretch or a cool breeze. No, that was pure excitement. No clouds meant safety in the sky, and the warm sun meant that she still had ample time left of seeing when the clouds would be rolling in. Today was perfect for a fly!

She elected to ignore the fact that she had been flying much of the day already, with large buckets of earth, seeds, and oil even! What was one more other than great practice and great fun? Exactly!

Ellie braced herself in the sunflowers, her brown speckled feathers flaring out as she un-relaxed her already open wings, preparing for a quick takeoff. (While practicing with Zain she had taken quick note of his slow takeoffs in comparison to hers, something she'd seen too in other more classic Goldwing picks and other Hawk clan members alike.) It was her best advantage, and also happened to be one that made her feel really good.

She bent her legs, felt the rustle of the wind under her wings through the tall sunflower stalks, and LEAPED.

The wind caught her instantly, but she quickly readjusted with some mad flapping, zipping her straight up in nothing less than an explosion of petals and seeds that her and fellow Sparrows had missed. (Oops.) She whooped and twisted into a twirl, her legs locked straight down behind her and her toes pointed as close to a ballet pose as she could manage. (It was pretty close, she thought, she'd been practicing making herself as aerodynamic as possible, that's why she'd taken her brown-ish hair back into her short pigtails in the first place. Well, that and keeping it out of her eyes.)

The sky was wide and free and open, and she couldn't have been happier to have been free if it had been on her birthday. Mother Rosemary was no doubt going to be looking for her soon, but Ellie was sure that no one, not even the adults, could catch her now as she zoomed up and into the sky. (Practicing the ascent, she told herself. Her ascent.)

The wind buffeted her, but she was prepared. Her arms were flat to her sides, her sash was tied tight but still buffeted like the mane of a galloping workhorse as she rose. Her wings hurt from all the practice of the day, and though she knew all about straining muscles and how bad it could be, the speed she had been managing lately made it feel impossible to stop. How could she rest or slow down when flying felt this good in her feathers?

She was doing so well that she wished she had invited Zain along to watch her. He would be impressed, she just knew it! With the picking season coming to a close, she and her fellow Sparrows had been working harder than ever, and she hadn't even gotten a chance to practice with Zain in the past several days. She was pretty sure she had gotten way better than he had in those days, even with his father working with him on wing stretches and proper technique.

The thought made her tear up more than the scream of the wind around her, and she grit her teeth determinedly. While his father helped him train to be on her level, she fought to fly by his side in revenge for her own father. That was what good friends were for! Working to be amazing for each other even in the absence of each other. She took a short glance down to see how far she had gone, and felt relief in knowing that Zain could almost definitely see her now. (That was, if his eyes were good enough to see an ant sized Sparrow girl in the clear blue sky.) He’d have the same confirmation she would feel, and that made her feel utterly amazing.

Her feathers gleamed with the fresh sunflower oil she had applied to them earlier in the day. They shown with the pride of her mother and father, and every other Sparrow who had had to die in the process of living to fly. They shown with her own pride too, the pride of someone who was going to make it. A girl who would be the first Sparrow Goldwing, ever.

And how could they possibly deny her that glory?

If the king and his knights could see how high she had flown, and how fast she had done it, they would be forced to wonder how they hadn’t let her become a Goldwing early. Even though her wingspan was short, and she was just a tiny bit shorter, and Zain’s flightfeathers were just about the length of her entire dang body (though she liked to say it was without her head), she was just as valuable as the others. How couldn’t she be? She’d followed the King’s Ladder perfectly, and look how high she had climbed it!

The world was laid out below her, wide and open and shiny and new and so much more beautiful that a fledgling could ever imagine without a trip under their parents’ arms. Mother Rosemary had told her not to fly so high, that Sparrows didn’t do that and live, that the only thing you would find up there were Moonmoths and Gargoyles and high clanners with their hands so far into their own feathers they might as well have had a beak to preen them, but Ellie knew better. To her, if Sparrows didn’t live while doing this, they couldn’t very well live at all.

She knew her parents would have agreed with her, especially under a sky as clear as the one that her feathers gleamed under now. It made her mad to think that such sights weren't something open to everyone on every day. It made her mad to think that such sights couldn’t be seen in the beauty of night without fearing a hidden cloud. It made her mad to think that anyone could hide their wings in fear of the Gargoyles. And that’s exactly why she had to ascend. That’s exactly why she would have Zain at her side. He knew what it meant to be a Goldwing, and he knew why she deserved it. Together they would win, together they would fight the Gargoyles, together they would make sure that no one was ever grounded again.

She circled, becoming accustomed to the cold of the sky so high up in the sky (even in the burning sun the winds made her shiver in her short sleeves). The air was thinner here, but she took in in strides, positively grinning at the shallow feeling in her chest. Yes, she was prepared.

…But what was a practice without some fancy flying?

Ellie gave her wings a harder flap than the ones strictly required for her to remain airborne, allowing herself to raise even higher (to the complaint of her aching shoulders). Once up, she lifted her arms and twisted her legs, one and then the other, allowing herself to pivot into a dive with the grace of a Kingfisher despite her differing wing shape. Following the motions she had seen Zain take (with the ease of a Sparrow being told to flit between houses, she might add), Ellie folded her wings to her sides, connected her legs once more, and let gravity take her.

If rising had felt like a rush of wind, this must have been something more like a hurricane.

Her stomach dropped first, and despite her attention to remaining aerodynamic, her wings shivered once more with excitement as gravity took her. It was like being put in a wheelbarrow that was rapidly going down a hill, except way faster, and way cooler, and WAY more like a Goldwing.

The wind felt like sharp thorns on her skin and in her feathers and hair, but in a way that was somehow good. The slowly setting sun made the world glow flashy oranges and reds as the previously miniature houses and boiled down splashes of sunflower began to come into focus once more. The colors matched her sash and feathers, and that made her grin despite the tearing pressure on her skin.

She didn’t know how often Goldwings got to dive like this, but she hoped it was often.

The yellow of the sunflowers rose to meet her, and Ellie spread her wings in the way Zain had told her didn’t hurt the shoulders later, allowing her dive to transform into an elegant swoop that was completely unlike Mother Rosemary and completely like a Goldwing. A swoop fit for a Hawk, or, apparently, a swoop fit just for her.The petals of the sturdy sunflowers twisted away under the rush of her wings as she flew towards their golden centers, letting the sun warm the back of her neck as she swooped across the fields. She whooped as the cloud of yellow rose in her wake, gold like the sun, gold like her future uniform. Gold like the striped feathers of the one who had saved her wings all those years ago.

She had thought she had flown faster across the farms earlier in the day, but this had to be twice the speed. She would have laughed at her earlier self if she could, but she was too happy to let it cross her mind. Her entire body shivered happily in the glow of the setting sun. Despite her lesser weight and smaller wings, she was faster than Zain was, she was sure of it. If this was how a Sparrow could fly when she put her mind to it, Ellie had no idea why they had never thought to become a Goldwing before.

No idea at all.

The black plague, the story everyone knew about, but has probably never felt,

It all started a while ago, a certain , specific date not given,
You wake up, in your hard, animal skin bed, in the dark, lonely Europe, you are a plague doctor, no freedom, just working, you skip breakfast, and get straight to work, you walk along the pathway of your huge, but dying village, the stench of carriages carrying overly sick people overwhelm the citizens, sickening sight indeed, many people are desperate to get checked up on, they are aggressive, but at this point, they may not wake up tomorrow due to the plague, they cough, have buboes, bleed, and some buboes could reach sizes of an apple, terrifying. It was. People thought the plague spread by bad air, this was before people knew the spread of sicknesses by germs, so the inside of your mask had many spices and good “air”, in it, you get to your first patient, you open the front door, to see a overly sick person, lying on the ground, at this stage, it’s too late, you let them know, and let them write a will to their family and loved ones, on the other hand, people with the plague could ask to be researched by the doctor to understand it more, this was called, “autopsy” .the sacrifice for the better, you get to your next patient, you barge in, hoping they aren’t too sick.. you see them, a not overly sick person, now here comes the messed up part, the doctors did stuff that was more lethal then the plague, by doing stuff like, “sit next to a fire” or “bleed more to get the bad blood out” or.. “vomit more..” it wasn’t great, they at least would get good air next to their nostrils just so the patient doesn’t die, there was a low chance that the treatment even worked, and even if it did, it won’t be the last infection, the governments were doing some really bad stuff to try and possibly stop the plague, by doing quarantine, which derivatives to the word Quarantena, which ment “40 days”, and some governments killed people to try and stop the plague, by taking sick people with carriages across the place to die, the stench got worse and worse and worse! It never got better for a long time, there is still some time before anything happens, so let’s skip, now, people are starting to understand hygiene, and do quarantine themselves, the spread of the plague which one ruled the whole east, is slowing down, and started to stop spreading, proper treatment became an option, and it was very useful, the plague doctors could now go home, as you do, you go to your has, to see your wife/husband and children, your children don’t recognize you, but are still nice to know their father/mother, you go home, eat a nice big meal, tell your children who you are, and go to relieve yourself in the bathroom, or the bushes for now, to only notice something on your leg, a buboe. Luckily, proper treatment is avail So it doesn’t sting that much, but you still know the consequences, and your not fond of these memories,

You get properly treated, to only realize the spread of buboes aren’t spreading, it’s decreasing, the black plague has been defeated by hygiene, and it has no people to feed on, so it starts dying off, literally dying off itself,

Fin.

SOFTWINDOWS11 wrote:

Welp, here it is, here is me, I’ve never been in a camp so I’m gonna be doing a goal for 5K words, let’s get started with mine, I’m not the most confident :’)
I’m gonna be doing a story about the black plague, (scary indeed)

The black plague, the story everyone knew about, but has probably never felt,

It all started a while ago, a certain , specific date not given,
You wake up, in your hard, animal skin bed, in the dark, lonely Europe, you are a plague doctor, no freedom, just working, you skip breakfast, and get straight to work, you walk along the pathway of your huge, but dying village, the stench of carriages carrying overly sick people overwhelm the citizens, sickening sight indeed, many people are desperate to get checked up on, they are aggressive, but at this point, they may not wake up tomorrow due to the plague, they cough, have buboes, bleed, and some buboes could reach sizes of an apple, terrifying. It was. People thought the plague spread by bad air, this was before people knew the spread of sicknesses by germs, so the inside of your mask had many spices and good “air”, in it, you get to your first patient, you open the front door, to see a overly sick person, lying on the ground, at this stage, it’s too late, you let them know, and let them write a will to their family and loved ones, on the other hand, people with the plague could ask to be researched by the doctor to understand it more, this was called, “autopsy” .the sacrifice for the better, you get to your next patient, you barge in, hoping they aren’t too sick.. you see them, a not overly sick person, now here comes the messed up part, the doctors did stuff that was more lethal then the plague, by doing stuff like, “sit next to a fire” or “bleed more to get the bad blood out” or.. “vomit more..” it wasn’t great, they at least would get good air next to their nostrils just so the patient doesn’t die, there was a low chance that the treatment even worked, and even if it did, it won’t be the last infection, the governments were doing some really bad stuff to try and possibly stop the plague, by doing quarantine, which derivatives to the word Quarantena, which ment “40 days”, and some governments killed people to try and stop the plague, by taking sick people with carriages across the place to die, the stench got worse and worse and worse! It never got better for a long time, there is still some time before anything happens, so let’s skip, now, people are starting to understand hygiene, and do quarantine themselves, the spread of the plague which one ruled the whole east, is slowing down, and started to stop spreading, proper treatment became an option, and it was very useful, the plague doctors could now go home, as you do, you go to your has, to see your wife/husband and children, your children don’t recognize you, but are still nice to know their father/mother, you go home, eat a nice big meal, tell your children who you are, and go to relieve yourself in the bathroom, or the bushes for now, to only notice something on your leg, a buboe. Luckily, proper treatment is avail So it doesn’t sting that much, but you still know the consequences, and your not fond of these memories,

SOFTWINDOWS11 wrote:

Not the absolute best, but it’s a great start for me :D

savebats wrote:

SOFTWINDOWS11 wrote:

Welp, here it is, here is me, I’ve never been in a camp so I’m gonna be doing a goal for 5K words, let’s get started with mine, I’m not the most confident :’)
I’m gonna be doing a story about the black plague, (scary indeed)

The black plague, the story everyone knew about, but has probably never felt,

It all started a while ago, a certain , specific date not given,
You wake up, in your hard, animal skin bed, in the dark, lonely Europe, you are a plague doctor, no freedom, just working, you skip breakfast, and get straight to work, you walk along the pathway of your huge, but dying village, the stench of carriages carrying overly sick people overwhelm the citizens, sickening sight indeed, many people are desperate to get checked up on, they are aggressive, but at this point, they may not wake up tomorrow due to the plague, they cough, have buboes, bleed, and some buboes could reach sizes of an apple, terrifying. It was. People thought the plague spread by bad air, this was before people knew the spread of sicknesses by germs, so the inside of your mask had many spices and good “air”, in it, you get to your first patient, you open the front door, to see a overly sick person, lying on the ground, at this stage, it’s too late, you let them know, and let them write a will to their family and loved ones, on the other hand, people with the plague could ask to be researched by the doctor to understand it more, this was called, “autopsy” .the sacrifice for the better, you get to your next patient, you barge in, hoping they aren’t too sick.. you see them, a not overly sick person, now here comes the messed up part, the doctors did stuff that was more lethal then the plague, by doing stuff like, “sit next to a fire” or “bleed more to get the bad blood out” or.. “vomit more..” it wasn’t great, they at least would get good air next to their nostrils just so the patient doesn’t die, there was a low chance that the treatment even worked, and even if it did, it won’t be the last infection, the governments were doing some really bad stuff to try and possibly stop the plague, by doing quarantine, which derivatives to the word Quarantena, which ment “40 days”, and some governments killed people to try and stop the plague, by taking sick people with carriages across the place to die, the stench got worse and worse and worse! It never got better for a long time, there is still some time before anything happens, so let’s skip, now, people are starting to understand hygiene, and do quarantine themselves, the spread of the plague which one ruled the whole east, is slowing down, and started to stop spreading, proper treatment became an option, and it was very useful, the plague doctors could now go home, as you do, you go to your has, to see your wife/husband and children, your children don’t recognize you, but are still nice to know their father/mother, you go home, eat a nice big meal, tell your children who you are, and go to relieve yourself in the bathroom, or the bushes for now, to only notice something on your leg, a buboe. Luckily, proper treatment is avail So it doesn’t sting that much, but you still know the consequences, and your not fond of these memories,

SOFTWINDOWS11 wrote:

Not the absolute best, but it’s a great start for me :D

Your writing is very good! This is a thread I made specifically for myself but this was an interesting read haha. (Good luck but please make your own thread maybe?) Have a good day!

SOFTWINDOWS11 wrote:

savebats wrote:

SOFTWINDOWS11 wrote:

Welp, here it is, here is me, I’ve never been in a camp so I’m gonna be doing a goal for 5K words, let’s get started with mine, I’m not the most confident :’)
I’m gonna be doing a story about the black plague, (scary indeed)

The black plague, the story everyone knew about, but has probably never felt,

It all started a while ago, a certain , specific date not given,
You wake up, in your hard, animal skin bed, in the dark, lonely Europe, you are a plague doctor, no freedom, just working, you skip breakfast, and get straight to work, you walk along the pathway of your huge, but dying village, the stench of carriages carrying overly sick people overwhelm the citizens, sickening sight indeed, many people are desperate to get checked up on, they are aggressive, but at this point, they may not wake up tomorrow due to the plague, they cough, have buboes, bleed, and some buboes could reach sizes of an apple, terrifying. It was. People thought the plague spread by bad air, this was before people knew the spread of sicknesses by germs, so the inside of your mask had many spices and good “air”, in it, you get to your first patient, you open the front door, to see a overly sick person, lying on the ground, at this stage, it’s too late, you let them know, and let them write a will to their family and loved ones, on the other hand, people with the plague could ask to be researched by the doctor to understand it more, this was called, “autopsy” .the sacrifice for the better, you get to your next patient, you barge in, hoping they aren’t too sick.. you see them, a not overly sick person, now here comes the messed up part, the doctors did stuff that was more lethal then the plague, by doing stuff like, “sit next to a fire” or “bleed more to get the bad blood out” or.. “vomit more..” it wasn’t great, they at least would get good air next to their nostrils just so the patient doesn’t die, there was a low chance that the treatment even worked, and even if it did, it won’t be the last infection, the governments were doing some really bad stuff to try and possibly stop the plague, by doing quarantine, which derivatives to the word Quarantena, which ment “40 days”, and some governments killed people to try and stop the plague, by taking sick people with carriages across the place to die, the stench got worse and worse and worse! It never got better for a long time, there is still some time before anything happens, so let’s skip, now, people are starting to understand hygiene, and do quarantine themselves, the spread of the plague which one ruled the whole east, is slowing down, and started to stop spreading, proper treatment became an option, and it was very useful, the plague doctors could now go home, as you do, you go to your has, to see your wife/husband and children, your children don’t recognize you, but are still nice to know their father/mother, you go home, eat a nice big meal, tell your children who you are, and go to relieve yourself in the bathroom, or the bushes for now, to only notice something on your leg, a buboe. Luckily, proper treatment is avail So it doesn’t sting that much, but you still know the consequences, and your not fond of these memories,

SOFTWINDOWS11 wrote:

Not the absolute best, but it’s a great start for me :D

Your writing is very good! :D This is a thread I made specifically for myself but this was an interesting read haha. (Good luck but please make your own thread maybe?) Have a good day!

Ahh.. I thought this was where we make our own scripts.. like it’s public :o but thanks lol! You can remove it since I’m gonna copy and paste it to my own thread :D

“I'm sorry.”

As far as Sun was concerned, that wasn't even the beginning of an apology for how bad he was feeling. And then, when he thought that, he felt even worse. Who was he to assume she would want to go out with him anyway? Who was he to act like he was being kept away from something he deserved? Who was he to act like one of the most respectful possible rejections was an attack on him as a person? But knowing that those questions all had answers that told him to leave her alone didn't make him feel better.

“Oh.” He looked down at his feet. They looked stupid in his stupid sneakers and stupid socks. Stupidly, with his hope put into something he knew was not going to work, he wondered if she would have given him a better chance if he had been wearing something nicer than his scuffed up shoes and baggy capri pants and baggyer T-shirt.

“Sorry, it's not you.“

She sounded so apologetic that he instantly felt even worse all over again. Moon with emotion, what do you know! He was really pathetic huh. Moon hardly even showed emotion when there was something she really cared about. Honestly, the most expressive he'd ever seen her was when she'd jumped away from the Lei prank when she'd first arrived in Alola. So if she had that much emotion in her words, there was no doubt in what she thought about him.

Pure pity.

“Oh.”

Sun had never really liked when people felt pity for him.

That's why he'd struck that deal with Faba instead of wallowing in guilt and sadness after his grandfather's death. That's why he'd never cried when Team Skull skimped him on a dollar or two. (Their laughs would have been bad, but the worried glances of onlookers and tourists would have been even worse.)

Pity wasn't a feeling that he wanted to even cross the minds of those that looked at him. Not when he was five, not when he was ten, not ever. Even though he was short, and tended to be wearing at least one cast or five bandaids at any given time, and had a Pokemon that didn't really listen to him, and had lost his grandfather's island to a corporation that didn't even care about the people in Alola, Sun wasn't someone to pity.

He took all of those injustices in stride, and turned them into business opportunities and conversation starters with potential clients. Being so young and so new in the actual business of his line of work, he had to. If he didn't, where would he and Kiawie and his other fellow couriers go?

Exactly.

When a person pitied someone like him, they didn't want to help, they just wanted to feel bad for him and then move on with their day. Moon didn't want to be with him, and now he doubted she'd even feel comfortable working with him again, with how long he'd been staring at his shoes at that point.

Arceus. She'd already graduated college somehow, and he'd just barely gotten into a reliable way of gaining money. She was a girl from Sinnoh, where trainers like her wore tanktops and miniskirts in full blizzards. He could hardly walk down the street without falling and needing medical assistance. She was so out of his league that it was laughable to think about the fact that he had ever considered her.

”Sun,” she said again, her voice softer now, but no less pitying, ”It's not your fault.“

How couldn't it be.

“I don't blame you,” she added, almost reaching out for his shaking wrist, but stopping short when she saw the look on his face, ”It's not like I'll stop working with you, we're dexholders.“

Was that all they were to her? A couple of coworkers?

He tried to tell himself that he was being ridiculous. That there was no way he should have assumed she'd like him back, that there was no reason why he should be reacting like she'd hit him with some terrible insult. He had no idea why he was acting like she didn't have a perspective in all of it as well. Seriously, how would he feel if someone he worked with asked him out and then acted like the entire world was ending when he said no?

She didn't have to explain why she didn't want to date him, why was he letting her?

”-really I never got a chance to date anyone, I didn't want to-“

Oh great. Now the science major was trying to explain romance to the guy she'd just rejected. He pushed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, noticing the familiar burn of almost crying in his throat.

Oh great. Now the guy who'd gotten rejected was making his crush feel like she needed a reason not to like him back. Now he was just being a bad friend.

”Moon,“ he said, stopping her in the middle of her sentence. ”It's okay, you don't need to say anything if you don't want to, you can just pretend I never asked okay?“

She must have noticed he sounded more serious than normal (and that his voice was the croak of someone with the flu) because she looked worried. Seeing this, he abruptly changed his mind from earlier. Worried was a way worse look than apologetic on someone who had just rejected you.

”Oh but I-,“

”No seriously, it's okay, I'm sure I'm not up to normal standards- which is fine by the way- you don't have to…” he trailed off, seeing her face morph to “offended“ for a brief moment. (Oh Arceus, that was EVEN WORSE than worried.)

”Sun, that's what I was saying,“ she said, thankfully sounding less offended and more amused (how that was a “thankful” was beyond him), ”You're great, I just… ah…“

Now it was her turn to trail off, and he felt the bite of tears in his eyes lessen a tiny bit. ”You're dating someone?“ he asked, horrified that he may be stepping on toes. He flashed through all the people the two of them knew between them. Lillie probably couldn't beat him up, but if she was Moon's girlfriend she'd probably cry when she heard that he'd asked Moon out, and that would be even worse. Gladion could probably beat him up. Hau probably wouldn't but crushing on a bro's girl was an even worse offense than crushing on a bro.

Or maybe it wasn't even someone in Alola! What about Sinnoh? Moon had just been back there visiting her sister, what if she had run into someone more fitting of her time than some roughed up guy from Alola? Sun's mind flashed through the other Sinnoh dexholders, landing on the blond triplets (Jun, Pearl, and Barry for good measure), all of whom made him look like an actual size toddler doll in comparison. Hareta was about Sun's height, but he made up for it with insane muscles and even more insane actions. That wouldn’t end well for someone as scrawny and injury prone as Sun. Koya was a police officer, that wouldn't end well. Mitsumi was a better battler than the champion AND made Sun look like a toddler in height, that wouldn't end well either. Diamond wasn't outwardly malicious or mean, but he could cook a mean meal, and Sun knew he wouldn't be able to resist if it was poisoned.

Oh Arceus, poison. Moon could totally poison him if she wanted.

But Moon spluttered out a, ”No!” so fast and so aggressive that Sun couldn't even step away from her before she did. His racing thoughts relaxed slightly (though his speeding heart did not) and he looked at her in her dark eyes as she smiled lightly.

“No Sun, I am not dating anyone, and I don't think I ever will.” She said it so kindly it was like she was preparing to put him down later.

"Oh?“ he squeaked, trying to get some of his usual humor back in his voice as he said, ”Was this that bad of a conversation?“

She shook her head but lent him a bit of a smile. ”No, that's not why.“

”Oh.“

He was back to looking at his feet, though this time he had the nerve to kick a little sand around.

“Sorry for asking you then.” he murmured, feeling her hand light on his shoulder and seeing her tropical patterned shirt grow a little nearer. She hummed a little, and before he knew what to prepare for her arms were around him and her chin was up by his ear in a tight hug.

He didn’t think he’d ever been hugged so genuinely by her before.

He didn’t want her to let go.

“We’re friends,” she said, pulling back but leaving her hand on his shoulder, “you don’t have to apologize for something like that.”

“Better than coworkers?” he asked, “Even though you’ll see me at the lab tomorrow?”

She smiled and began to walk away, “Definetly.”

He wished she wouldn’t.

Just being told it was okay didn’t make him feel better.

Black was raring to go for the Pokemon League, it wasn’t gonna be his first one (obviously, that’s how he had gotten in this situation in the first place), but second was pretty good! And, of course, it would be his first League since getting out of that blasted Light Stone. That had not been an ideal circumstance that he had found himself in. He had enough in him to say that, but after his first league, and being in that Light Stone for a whole year, he and his team were pretty ready to stretch their wings and get fighting again. (What? Did you think second meant he had come in second place, no no, he’d been in first, he’d just gotten a little bit stuck there.)

White didn’t need to realise how bad it made him feel that she’d only found him so late after all of that. He knew how much of a deal it was to her that he’d gotten out at all, and he knew how badly she’d been trying. It had just taken so long. And it was a bit hard to get past that feeling that she could have done more if she’d have let him move on his own with his league ideas since the beginning. Maybe if she had taken him seriously, he wouldn’t have been so behind on training that something like this happened. Maybe if she’d cared about his dream, instead of just blindly expecting him to carry hers, she’d have been better trained earlier, enough to stop the fuzing.

But oh that was crazy talk wasn't it?

It wasn’t her fault, both of them knew that. It wasn’t anyone's.

Except maybe Team Plasma’s.

And White’s.

And Reshiram’s.

And Clay’s for digging up the thing in the first place.

And, well, Black’s of course.

…

No no, that was crazy talk.

The league was coming up again, and he couldn’t wait! Brav’s wings were tired from all that flying through the Pokemon Dream world inside of the light stone, and Musha’s dream misty was all but spent. (Black had really been about to give up by the time that those people had popped in. His dream had been almost used up.) But nonetheless they were ready to fight.

And raring to go.

The leathery pages slip through your hands, and the smell hits you like a baseball as you inhale. Dust fills your lungs, but since you aren’t allergic to it it’s not that big of a deal. (You have a few friends who are, you make a mental note to remind them not to enter this building. It’s got so much of this stuff you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you were a dustmite.) Anyway, words float up at you, shifting through the air as the darkness of the building flickers slightly. The lights overhead must be slightly faulty, but the delicious smell of the old words, dust, and paper make it impossible to smell the ozone floating through the room.

You make a second mental note (gee, maybe you shoulda brought a note pad), to tell someone about that. It’s not safe to have faulty electricity in a room with so much paper. Nope nope, not safe at all.

Some of these things would probably be fine, locked behind expensive fireproof cases and so much glass you’d have to call a locksmith and the building owner if you wanted to access them. (But that was fine, that was part of being one of these things, once you got past a certain age people just locked you up so that you wouldn’t burn or drown.)

…that kind of made you feel like one of them. That feeling combined with the textures of so many of their covers… not exactly pleasant. You weren’t sure if you liked feeling like them.

But ahh, what did it matter? You weren’t one of them, and it was time to sit down, take some notes on the notepad that you did not bring, and relax into the smell of dust and leather and paper.

Ivy was a pretty cat, but not as pretty as her sister Dove. Despite all the training in smoothing her fur and blinking her eyes that she had received from her owner and mentor, Dove still won every ribbon and bow there was to earn. Was it in their fur? Or was it something deeper? Dove had a gorgeous pure grey pelt, with a fluffy tail even more amazing than the older cat “Cloud” that their owner also owned. Besides, Dove’s gorgeous shiny eyes were far more captivating than anyone else under their owner. The judges liked to say that her eyes were so pretty, it was like she saw everything they wanted her to do.

Ivy had to admit she was jealous. Despite her bold stripes and clean white patches, she was no show cat next to someone with as amazing a tail as her sister. It seemed their owner, “Thunder” as the other cat owners nicknamed him, had a style that just did not suit her. Her owner did not pay as much attention to her as to other cats, and her mentor hadn’t won nearly as many ribbons as Dove’s. “Lion” the judges called him, for his amazingly fluffy mane, and “Lion” the cats called him, for the amazing muscles that rippled under his perfect orange fur. He fit the vision of their owner far better than Ivy ever could, and with Dove training the ways of fur grooming and tail swishing in his pawsteps, it was clear that she would soon fit the same way.

…That was, if she didn’t already.

Ivy was going to have to train harder than she ever had before, but with her mentor being unhelpful, and the owner not paying her mind, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. She looked up from her fluffy cat bed, it seemed like just yesterday she and Dove had been but tiny kittens, each battling with the mouse toy like it didn’t mess up their pretty fur. Their mother had scolded them, but Dove had been first to listen. So when the owner had looked down at them, it had been clear who to choose. The adorable fluff ball with the perfect tail and the perfect posture, or the scraggly kitten still batting at the toy?

The answer was obvious.

Ivy shook herself, rising on skinny legs and swishing an even skinnier tail as she padded across the center of the room. The owner was kind to her and her fellow cats. He even let them out of their cages most of the time. That’s why she needed to get better. She didn’t want to get traded away to a different owner. Because she’d miss the others, of course, but also because of the increased freedom that “Thunder” allowed them.

Besides “Star,” Ivy had heard that other owners weren’t nearly as kind.

With the girl named River the cats were given baths near daily, and even though Ivy had heard during the contests how much they loved feeling clean, she knew for a fact that she would hate it. With the one who owned that sheepdog “Wind,” the cats had to live at all times with five dogs in the house. With the guy who also raised hedgehogs and had apparently named one of them “Shadow The Hedgehog,” it was even worse. (With a name that ridiculous the cats had named him after it, as a clue to his idiocy.)

And the one who lived in that cabin all the way out in that dark forest…

“Psst! Hey!” A voice called from above.

Ivy jumped, it sounded like it was coming from the window, but how was that possible? All the feral and wild cats always stayed clear of Thunder’s house. (Something ridiculous about not wanting to go to the “cutter’s” and loosing their “warrior clans.”) Plus, ever since Lion’s sister Holly had escaped with so called “Fallenleaves” through that very window, it had always been locked tight, especially when the owner wasn’t in the room.

So who in the world could that be?

“Come on kid!” the voice called again, and Ivy jumped when she realized she knew that voice after all. She looked up at the window and saw the dark shape of Hawk gazing down at her. He smiled, all sharp teeth, and nudged the window a bit closer to open, “Your owner left it open, come up here!”

Hawk was scary because of who owned him, but he had quite a few ribbons to his name. With her mentor unhelpful and her owner uncaring, he was the best option she had. Ivy looked around the room. All the others were asleep, even Dove.

“How did you get out?”

“I eat with the warriors at night, they like to hear about what we do here.” He said, as if that explained everything. He swished his amazingly groomed tail and the dark bands of fur stood out against the sky. Ivy’s eyes almost bugged out. He was perfect for this job. Even though his words didn’t explain anything, Ivy was desperate enough to nod along.

She flicked her tail and imagined it far prettier. Hawk could help her.

“How do I get out?”

“You see that cat tree?” Hawk asked, pointing towards the cat tree that Fire always used when he was hyping up the group for a next context, “Climb that to reach me.”

“But our leader sleeps under there! And Jay! He has such good ears he’s gonna hear me!” She felt her fur fluffing and blushed. Oh no, this three time ribbon winner was seeing her fluff her fur? He must think she was such a rookie!

He smirked, “If you want to get better it doesn’t matter what they hear right? Plus…” he pointed his nose towards the door on the side of the room, “your sister is in there with the owner now, she won’t hear, she won’t even know that you’re training before you’ve been her…”

He was totally right.

Ivy was up the cat tree before Hawk could even finish swishing his tail at her.

He gave her a smile, far prouder than anything she had ever received before. Not from her mother, not from Dove, not from her mentor, and especially not from her owner. He purred and pushed the window the rest of the way open, “You are one smart she-cat, I’ll make you ribbon worthy in no time!”

She couldn’t stop the purr in her voice when she asked, “Where are we going Hawk?”

He smiled at her and ran his tail over her back. “To some of my friends back with my owner, they can teach you the tactics far better than your “Thunder” ever could.” He turned and hopped away from the house and Ivy’s pelt shuffled with excitement. This was the first time she was going out of the house outside of her cage and off of her leash, and it felt amazing already. The wind in her fur, the stones under her paws as she hoped onto the wall after him.

No wonder a cat named after a bird would be the one to free her, this was going to feel like flying!

Under the cat tree Jay flicked his ear and opened his blind eyes. How interesting.

The CD spun in the machine, twisting its sweetness through the room as Gold stared up at the ceiling. He tended to listen to recorded radio broadcasts in his freetime, but something about the wet heat of the air that day had made him take out the CD and put it back into the machine as quickly as he could. Silver would have been listening to the Proteam Omega soundtrack on loop if he was here now, or at least watching an episode on Gold’s mom’s TV downstairs. But he wasn’t here, and Gold was alone.

It was kinda hard being the worst dexholder in a region.

Crystal was off with Professor Oak, doing something with the capturing of Pokemon, and Silver was far away. Gold was all alone in his room, and the D was turning up dust as it twisted in its spot under the diamond that read through it. Gold kinda felt a bit like the poor thing. Since he hadn’t preferred this type of entertainment for a few months now, the CD had gotten dusty, and his machine had begun to skip over the clumps that coated it.

He wondered why he hadn’t cleaned it off yet, but then again, he was the worst one. He wasn’t supposed to do anything right was he?

Silver would have caught the mistake early. Crystal would have caught the mistake as well.

And Gold’s mom would probably scold him if she could hear the skipping that was coming from the poor thing. Well, maybe she could hear it, but just was deciding to scold him later. She usually had a pretty good grip of when his mood was in the dumps, she guessed that came with her being his mother. She understood the way he acted, because she’d grown him up like a potted plant of some kind for so long. Plus, she acted fairly the same way in most cases.

That was just how it was.

He guessed he was more similar to his mother than to any of the other dexholders.

That wasn’t a bad thing, he loved her a lot. (A lot.) It was just hard because that meant that he was better suited for other jobs. Things like hatching eggs and caring for baby Pokemon. Stuff that didn’t matter as much. Stuff that someone like him was better off doing.

The Elite Four's plan had failed.

Despite getting so close to controlling that legendary bird, that small straw hat wearing boy's lightning had struck down Lance's chances for the world he had so long envisioned. "Yellow,“ he was called. And it was fitting too, because he had glowed as bright as the sun that shone above Lance now as he looked out the window of the Pokemon Center.

In the area outside the window, children played with their Caterpis and Spearows. Lance wondered how he could have ever wanted to see such innocent friendship and cross-species cooperation destroyed. All because he hadn’t viewed such people as having the ability to care as he had?
Lance wasn’t known for his incredible kindness to humans. Duh. He’d tried to get rid of them after all. Even though he had decided that some humans deserved to live, those that he had turned away had not been super pleased. Even more shockingly, however, one of those worthy humans had rejected the idea of his better world entirely, instead deciding to stand for both Pokemon and humans when he had stood up to Lance.

The longer he thought about it, however, he wondered if it had all been for the best. What had he and his “Elite” four ever achieved besides destruction and tears?

How had he ever seen himself as so much better than the other humans of the world? After all, when he had crawled back to society after his burns had somewhat healed and his limbs had mostly stopped twitching, he hadn't been met with the screaming and Pokemon-hating public that he had been expecting. (Despite definitely having deserved some of the screaming for his part in the destruction of Vermelion City and his very near attack on all of peaceful society.)

No, instead of pitchforks and torches, Lance had instead seen the glow of town lights dimming as night fell, allowing Zubats to fly without confusion. He'd seen children playing with their pets happily in open gardens and nearly undisturbed forests. He'd seen the parts of society he had been blind to when he had flown so high above it all, only privy to the blindingly black smoke that poured from the power plants, and only paying attention to the worst of the chemical spills whenever he chose to land. When he had been blinded by his hate (convinced it had been felt out of love), he had been kept away from everything beautiful that he could see now.

Yes, of course Lance knew there were still problems with the world, but as he watched child after child worrying over their injured friends, he realised that he couldn't be the only one who could see such issues. And seeing the Pokemon so compassionately healed by the capable hands and tools of the Nurse Joy in the Viridian Pokemon Center, he realised that he had been foolish to think that some blessing made him the only one worthy of saving the world. How could he have been so stupid?

How had it taken that little boy blasting him out of the sky for him to see it?

The problem wasn't humanity, it never had been. The problem was the people who made the worst of it, not the kind people who had offered him bandages when seeing his fried hair and torn clothes. It wasn't the people who carefully healed the very Pokemon he and his fellow Elite Four members had exploited and torn from their friends in order to gain an advantage. It wasn't the people who picked up trash in the park, or dampened their sounds, or dimmed their lights, or anything else that so many people did in order to prevent pollution in their own ways.

It was the problem of something else entirely, something that he saw now was too large for someone like him to have tackled all on his own.

He had fought tooth and nail against the wrong thing entirely, forced down anyone who dared to stand up against him, or anyone that he personally decided wasn’t strong enough to be on his side. He had taken control of Pokemon who would have been happier in the wild or with their original trainers, and he had known it. He had utterly crushed trainers who didn’t deserve it. He had leveled an entire city just to prove a point. He had done it all for the sake of something he should have always known wasn’t right.

Yet…

He had been welcomed back home with smiles and handshakes, and despite their awkwardness, it had felt more amazing than anything he had felt in the past fifteen years. He deserved more than simple awkwardness anyway. With all he had done, how wonderful it was that he had been forgiven! It had taken a bit of a shock to his system to get it into his thick skull that he wasn’t the near-god he had imagined himself, but it had taken just a few smiles to make him realise how deserved that shock had been. He wasn’t the perfect savior of Pokemon that he had envisioned either.

He was powerful, and connected to nature in ways that most people could never hope to be. That much was true. It came with the golden glow that flowed through his fingers whenever he imagined healing a Pokemon. It came with the smell of the forest breeze that blew around him whenever his emotions became too strong to control. It came with the way he could not only observe the way a Pokemon moved, but understand their thoughts and dreams. The Viridian Forest made it so, but it was he who had incorrectly assumed that such granted power had placed him so above the common man.

Seeing that straw hat boy choose to fight for connection, love, and improvement, instead of destruction for the sake of a blank slate… that had meant more to Lance than he could ever hope to figure out how to articulate. Yellow’s forgiveness, though through a bit of violence, had changed far more than Lance’s violence for the sake of violence ever had.

“Hey guys,” Red read aloud as he typed carefully into the grass type dexholder text stream, “Saur has been doing this weird thing and I wanted to know if anyone knew why.” He glanced up from his communicator, watching as his Venusaur Saur bit into the tree a little harder. Red stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth and held up his communicator, capturing an image to send of the behavior he was talking about. It wasn't like he hadn't caught Saur doing this before, this was simply the first time he'd tried to question it.

He'd been looking through books on Venusaur behaviors and noticed a distinct lack of the one that was currently in front of him. There was all the usual stuff, waiting in the sun after especially painful battles in order to perform photosynthesis, spreading the petals of their flower extra wide when encountering a fellow grass type, dropping their leaves in front of their eyes when it was time to sleep, the usual stuff an animal did. But as he had flipped through page upon page of grass type book, he had found not a single note of what he saw now. He had started to wonder if he had somehow imagined every time it had happened before Saur started it up again. He pressed send on the photo and put his communicator down. Surely this was simply so unimportant that all the books had simply neglected to mention it and that was it.

…

Far away, Crystal stared open mouthed at her communicator. A Venusaur biting into a tree in order to drink its sap stared up at her. Branches and leaves shuddered and fell as the sap was drained from the poor tree. This was it! The behavior that she and her fellow researchers had been trying to prove!

She began furiously typing.

Section 1: Creating a Flawed Character
Description: “Characters aren't realistic or relatable without their own flaws, and sometimes these weaknesses end up creating a more intriguing story. To begin this weekly, figure out an idea of your character's flaws–their negative traits that might drive them to make poor decisions. Summarize the flaws you've come up with in at least 150 words to complete your first part!”
Note: I decided that I did not in any way want to create an original character for this (not because it was harder but because I was scared), so enjoy this. I’m building Ruby from Pokemon Adventures! He is NOT my OC!!
Also writing a list thing was too hard for me to wrap my head around for some reason so take this little intro thing instead. :3
Also btw I don’t think there is anything wrong with being average OR not average and there is nothing wrong with not liking a parent, Ruby and Sapphire’s big shared flaw is that they don’t allow themselves to be truly themselves in either state.
Words: 1,175

Ruby started out a pretty average boy.

He had been kind of short but not too short, he wore cool black and red clothes, he had short black hair he hid under a hat his mom made him, he liked to battle and wasn’t afraid to show it (even to people who didn’t ask), he liked making friends who would like to watch him fight, and he loved to make his dad proud. Honestly, that last part had been the most important part. Wearing clothes his mom made him, combing his hair the way his dad did, fighting all the time for no reason, yes, it was clear that Ruby had wanted to be his dad when he grew up. The gym his dad led was going to be his to command, and there was nothing his fellow Johto trainers could do about it.

He remembered so clearly imagining the day his dad would pass him the badge and smile. In Ruby’s naive imagination his dad would pat him on the head and tell him how proud of him he was. Taking over the gym was going to make his dad so happy! Norman, Ruby’s dad, always pushed Ruby to be the best trainer he could possibly be. He taught him to fight so that you were uncrushable, he gave him his first Pokemon and bought him the Pokeballs for the next three. Sometimes he’d even told Ruby he was a half decent battler. Norman knew that Ruby was not only going to let the gym pass to him, but that he was going to let it pass happily. Surely that made him proud of his son.

Yup. Besides his bright red eyes and his higher-than-usual level of battling (despite what his father told him to the contrary), Ruby was a pretty average boy. He’d even recently gotten his sights on a cute girl to be his new best friend! She was a pretty average kid too, perfect for the life Ruby’s father imagined for him. Brown hair, scared looking blue eyes, a love for pink frilly dresses and cute Pokemon. Ruby had to admit that if his father hadn’t been looking, he might not have laughed at the amount of lace she wore. He might have even complemented how pretty the dress was and allowed himself to glow in its beauty as he did now in memories of her. But that wasn’t the type of thing a future gym leader did, so he had not.

She was the daughter of a researcher from some far away region. The two of them were visiting Johto in order to study something that Ruby had long since forgotten, but since her dad knew Norman and didn’t want her getting hurt in the lab, the two kids had been left to play together for a few days. Ruby had been dragging her all around the town and surrounding forest, impressed by her ability to sneak so silently and cautiously, despite all the frills and baubles she wore. Despite her insistence that mud was gross and that she didn’t want to see a Pokemon battle, she fit right in whenever he started one with some wild Pokemon. No matter how much she denied it when he teased her about it, Ruby saw that fire in her eyes. He had really almost wondered if she could be one of his gym trainers when he got to be the leader of his dad’s gym. Maybe she’d even tell him a little bit about how to patch dresses or sew buttons onto something on off days! (That was totally helpful for a trainer, it wasn’t just that he wanted to know how to do those things, of course.)

But that was crazy talk.

She was a beauty from some far away place somewhere, and he was a future Johto gym leader. She liked pretty bows and ribbons and cute Pokemon, and he liked fighting and being cool and bossing people around, and he had been sure that was all either of them would ever be. Despite the fact that she knew Pokemon attacks better than anyone, and he liked her dress more than Norman could hever know, Ruby had been sure that they were normal.

He had been sure anyway, until the two of them had run into that Salamence. He’d gotten scratched across the head so hard he was sure the scars would never fade (which would have been cool for a gym leader if it hadn’t hurt so bad), and she had cried.

His head still hurt when he thought about it. As did his heart.

She’d cried and cried, and then she’d gone back home, and he’d lost her. By now he had forgotten her name, and he didn’t want to ask Norman if he knew. (Even though Ruby knew he did.) He couldn’t ask. It hurt bad enough that he’d forgotten her face without tears on it, but not knowing her name was far worse.

Norman was mad. (Both then and now, it wasn’t past tense even a little bit.)

Apparently Ruby’s injury had gotten Norman kicked out of the Johto gym leader group. He’d never explained how, and Ruby had never asked. They’d moved anyway, away from everyone else Ruby knew, and Ruby decided to change. After seeing his friend’s terrified face and tear filled eyes, he’d vowed to never again let someone cry for his sake, and to do that he dropped battling all together. That made Norman even angrier, but Ruby didn’t care anymore. The contest ribbons were kinda like gym badges, and even though he couldn’t battle anymore, and he couldn’t make his dad proud anymore (though he wasn’t too sure he wanted too anymore, if he was honest), he could at least try to make his Pokemon happy.

Even though he could feel that old and bloody urge to battle still inside of him, Ruby ignored it. He ignored it like he had so long ignored his enjoyment and pretty and cute things. He ignored it like he’d ignored all the ways Norman had tried to keep him down. He ignored it because his friend shouldn’t have seen him bleed. He ignored it because it was all he knew how to do. He’d kept that old “girly” part of him silent for so long, he didn’t know how to mix it with his love of battling, and with Norman turning up his nose to all the new things Ruby found himself enjoying, he wasn’t sure he wanted too.

Surely he’d just get his urge to be smart, tough, cool, cute, and beautiful all knocked out of him if he dared show that his “toughness” went beyond his work for the ribbons. Surely Norman could knock some sense into him worse than that Salamance had if he saw the way his son thought about Pokeblocks for their battle benefits as well as their contest ones.

Yes, it was far better if Norman didn’t realise that his old, average son was in there at all.

Section 2: Outlining How The Character Will Develop
Description: “Howdy doodle writers!! I hope you're enjoying the weekly so far. For the next part, you will outline how your character will grow and change throughout the story. First, go to this workshop ( https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/456251/?page=1#post-4589244) about character development by Evi. Continue by thinking about who your character is at the beginning—what are their strengths, weaknesses, fears, and goals? Then, consider what experiences or events will challenge them. How will they react to these challenges? Will they succeed, fail, or struggle along the way? By the end of the story, your character should be different in some way—maybe even more flawed ;D Enjoy crafting your character, and ensure that you write at least 200 words to move on to the next part!”
Note: Again, I’m continuing in the same style/from the same point as I ended on in the last part. Ruby my love. To spell it out if it is not clear, Ruby’s strengths here are stuff like sewing and caring for Pokemon and knowing the trends (as well as of course the hold-overs from being a battler that he is ignoring.) He wants the contest ribbons.
Words: 457

Ruby had been someone Norman could have been proud of. He’d been someone who wanted to fight the gym battles, to win the Silver Conference, to become a part of league culture by taking up the helm of his father’s gym. That had been his goal. His only real goal. The one he’d put his all into. And, as expected from a future gym leader, he’d been someone who found his strength in brute force and aggressive battling. He’d been someone who wouldn’t have thought twice about danger if it meant a fun battle. He’d been someone who didn’t care about how much blood or mud stained his clothes, or how many gross bandaids he was wearing at any given time.

As he saw himself now, he’d been weak in his unending aggression. He’d been useless in his lack of respect for arts like fashion and makeup and design. He’d been someone who shouldn’t have even been worthy of Norman’s respect, because he had never deserved it anyway. He hadn’t been himself at all. (He ignored the hot blood under his skin when he imagined the way his improved connection with his Pokemon would improve his battling ability. No, that wasn’t what he wanted anymore, why was it so hard to make his heart agree?)

He wanted to collect the contest ribbons, he wanted to get closer to his Pokemon, he wanted to make his dad realize that he had been wrong in pushing away Ruby’s dreams. Nana, Kiki, and Rara had already gotten eleven ribbons, and they all longed for more. They didn’t just WANT to collect all the ribbons, they were going to get them. It was fate, or something. Ruby was sure of it. He knew all the berries and what Pokemon wanted which type of Pokeblock, he had the perfect rhythm on the machine to mix them. (Though unfortunately he didn’t yet own one of his own, of course Norman would not have allowed it.) He knew exactly the styles of fur cuts and bandana placements that all the judges wanted, and he knew every move and how much they had historically learned in contests. He knew exactly how to patch a pair of pants without making it look like they had been torn, he knew exactly how to make his shirt fit the way the judges wanted. He was observant, quick, and still had a bit of a backbone about him while gaining an eye for detail. And, though it may have come from his battling days more than Ruby would like to let on, he knew his Pokemon themselves like the back of one of his own hands. He was the perfect candidate for a contest king of his new region.

Section 3: Understanding Character Motivation
Description: “Now that you've figured out your characters' development, you'll focus on their motivations. A character's motivation is very important to make sure their decisions and what they do remain consistent and make sense for that character. Motivations can come from a character's past, things they care about, and goals. For example, in the Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, one of Katniss' main motivations is to protect her sister, which leads to her volunteering for her sister and contributes to the reasoning behind many of her decisions in the rebellion to continue protecting her family. Now write 200 words explaining the motivation behind the character. Have fun!”
Note: Again, picking up from where I left off, here is more of the “intro” to this little fic thing. This time about his motivations, which (if not clear), are that he wants to make his dad realize that Ruby isn’t a bad son. (Or something like that.)
Words: 304

To be the Hoenn region’s contest king would be the perfect way to turn everything Norman said around on its head. From how Ruby’s new “girly” style apparently left Norman without a worthy person to inherit his gym, to how his Pokemon apparently hated him for taking away their ability to battle. Completely untrue, they seemed happier now than ever with his increase in attention paid to them, and he let them playfight whenever they wanted to! It wasn’t like he was leaving them with absolutely no way to clear away their animal instincts. As far as he was concerned, that was a much better life than that of a helicopter parent of a gym leader ever could be.

Ugh. Why was it even a problem to Norman that Ruby had apparently forced the family to move if Norman had been able to immediately pick up a new gym leader gig anyway? Was it the change in climate? The lack of friends? If that was the case, Ruby was in just the same boat as his father.

He needed those ribbons.

For himself and his Pokemon to be able to see the fruits of their labor (or course), but also because they would prove to his idiodic father how wrong he had been to scoff at Ruby’s new dream. He was wrong to keep Ruby inside the house, to lock him in his room, to yell at him whenever he caught him on the sewing machine (even if his mother was there working with him). Norman (Ruby hardly ever even thought of him by the name “dad” anymore) wasn’t worthy of Ruby wanting his pride, but it was hard not to want it a little. Maybe proving his strength through the ribbons would let the both of them figure out what they really wanted.

Section 4: Tying It All Together
Description: “Throughout this weekly, we've taken a closer look at what motivates our characters to take on what they do, as well as how they develop and change as their story progresses, responding to the world around them. So, what's next? We're glad you asked—now that you've created your (im)perfect (;D) character, it's time to tie it all together and place them in a tale of your very own. For the final part of this weekly, write a short story in a minimum of 450 words incorporating your flawed character, focusing on character development and their motives as we've explored throughout the past week. Best of luck!”
Note: I am suddenly worried I did this entirely wrong. Oh well, I did my best!!
Words: 2,247

Despite his resolve to win (every win counting with a time limit of two or so months for the rest of the twenty Hoenn ribbons), Ruby's legs still shook as he stepped out onto the contest stage. He gripped his Pokeball tight, waiting for his turn to show off the cutest Pokemon he could manage. He'd done everything he could, feeling her Pokeblocks specifically tailored to enhancing her cuteness while making sure she didn't get bored of the berry based food. (He'd heard there was often a point where Pokemon stopped accepting Pokeblocks, and he didn't want that point to come soon.) He'd trimmed her fur just right. He'd made his shoulder pads especially sharp and his waist especially well fitted. He was the perfect picture of someone who could win this thing.

No longer was he some average boy that his father could pretend to be proud of. No longer was he the type of person to brag after a vicious smackdown of a battle. He'd hidden his scars away under his hat for this very purpose. (Sure, the hat made him stand out a bit in the crowd in Hoenn, but he couldn't bear to part with it. Even though Norman could have spotted his wife's specific hat-shape from far enough away to blast Ruby with a hyper beam in order to keep him down, Ruby couldn't find it in himself to change. It was Norman who was the problem, not Ruby's poor mother.)

He hid away the itch to fight as the judges called his and his Pokemon's names. His smile was bright, his eyeliner was perfect. There was no hint of the person he told himself he didn't want to be. (When he called Kiki into the ring, he tossed the Pokeball underhandedly to make sure that no one mistook him for that boy.)

Signs of praise, oohs and ahhs, many people were impressed by the amazing sheen of Kiki's pink and yellow fur as she wobbled so adorably around the stage. Her ear fur was trimmed to the perfect shape, her little kitten tail was puffy in just the right ways, her paws were small and showed no signs of the viscous claws that had made her a good battler. Ruby could almost see the hearts above the viewer's heads as they watched his adorable Pokemon yawn and stretch. He had to physically stop himself from reaching out and stealing said hearts out of the air when Kiki gave her signature baby doll eyes.

It was a ribbon winner of a move (as it always was), and he knew it even before they even began to announce his name (as he always did).

Why couldn't Norman see the same?

When he left the contest hall, he left it one ribbon heavier, but as always it felt like far more of a weight.

He loved this, he really did, but the farther he got into the scene the more and more he realized how irreversible his situation was. The more he performed and coordinated, the less his father wanted to do with him. And while one part of him said that was what he wanted, another, younger, stupider, more idiotic part of himself reminded him that there was no coming back from making Norman angry. There was going to be a point where he couldn't go back. A point where any hope of the dream to fight would be killed where it stood. (And stood it did, since killing a dream of fighting was pretty much impossible. Despite everything he did to squash it, it always just fought itself back upright again.)

But that dream didn't matter if he was succeeding right?

There was only one part of him that could be allowed to survive, and he was going to run on back to Johto before he let it be the one his father wanted him to be. (As always, he ignored the fact that his insistence to keep his wills about him was a fighting spirit in itself. What was wanting to keep his own path if it was not that old gym leader dream?)

“Kiki! You did amazing in there!” he cheered, spinning the little pink cat around like she was a toddler and he was the doting father he had never had, “You were so cute that I bet the other coordinators wanted to sabotage their own Pokemon for you!“ She purred and rubbed her little head against his cheek when he pulled her close and he made the same motion back at her. ”Not that you would need them to do something like that for you, cutie!“

At his words, he heard some not-at-all subtle snickering from a group of youngster trainers that stood by the edge of the building, no doubt waiting to jump a weak coordinator with a battle that the poor beauty wouldn't be able to win. Feeling only slightly indignant and mostly annoyed for what they were planning to do to his fellow trainers, Ruby shot them a tiny glance. Quick as a Pikachu with Agility, he sized them up.

Four young boys that he could easily beat. First evolutions with shaky knees, weak looking throwing arms, only one or two Pokeballs each, no real taste in protective wear for a high level battle OR a fashion contest. They were nobodies with no hope for the gym leader's life that he had given up for the one that they scoffed at.

If Ruby had been in the business of fighting anyone, he would have scoffed and taught them a lesson, but he wasn't in the business of fighting anyone. Not anyone. Not after his friend had cried in the sight of such violence, not after Norman had screamed at him for daring to get hurt in front of someone. (That pathetic excuse of a father hadn't even cared enough to properly patch his son up, Ruby had been forced to ask his poor mom instead.)

Ruby kept walking, still humming to Kiki and letting her crawl around his padded shoulders with her dainty paws. The kids laughed louder, probably assuming that he either hadn't noticed them or that he was scared. Ruby first remembered how shocked he had been that someone as girl as his old friend had had such good reaction time. He knew that these types of people assumed non-battlers had zero self awareness or self preservation at all. Then he remembered how he had felt nothing but excitement against that ugly old Salamance and had to hold back a laugh imagining these kids in its spot. Not only were they wrong about who exactly had zero self preservation (hint: it wasn’t the people he stayed out of battles altogether), they were imagining themselves as terrifying threats when they were barely even fit to be Route 1 bug catchers.

Still, he couldn't fight them.

Something in him told him he couldn't give them the satisfaction of getting a fight, even though he knew he would win. (…Maybe that satisfaction would be his own.) He kept walking. Kiki hopped onto his hat covered head, her tail held high as he told himself his spirits were.

These kids didn't know who they were laughing at. (If only he could teach them a lesson.)

Kiki's paws landed momentarily on the scar on his forehead, and he flinched at a sudden bite of pain. It was nothing compared to the original scratch, but it was enough to make him react. This, it seemed, was the wrong thing to let himself do. (He could have sworn he had a better handle on his emotions and body than that!)

He could hear the sounds of the kids walking towards him, their tiny weak feet pattering on the ground like that of a herd of baby Wurmples. ”Hey girly boy!“ One of the kids called, despite the fact that Ruby's fashion sense was decidedly masculine for the contest scene, ”let's have a battle huh?“

Ruby kept walking. Kiki too kept her eyes ahead of them.

”Come on!!“ a second one called, ”we saw you flinch, did you get hurt in there?“

”I didn't know that could even happen!“ the first one commented, drawing ever nearer as Ruby kept his pace even and strong, ”I thought you people didn't even let your Pokemon know what a battle was!“

Ruby didn't react beyond raising his chin a little bit. If these kids thought contests were all fun and games they had another thing coming if they ever thought to enter one. Besides, he highly doubted they would have wanted to see the injury they were unknowingly making fun of. He imagined their stupid faces in the same tears his poor friend had been sent into, and that made him feel better until it made him feel worse.

”Ugh come on!!“ the third yelled, ”It'll be quick!“

The fourth one added onto the threat so fast that Ruby jokingly wondered to himself if he had misjudged their trainer class as youngsters instead of twins, ”The Pokemon center is just over there, so when we whoop your butts you won't even have to tire your stupid legs walking too far.“

Ruby couldn't help reacting this time. He was born for drama after all. Be it fighting, contests, or just looking more beautiful, a little bit of being objectively better than someone else went a long way for his mental health. He shook his hat out, letting Kiki jump easily onto his outstretched arm with a really adorable little his as he turned to look at the four trainers. As expected, they were only a few feet away now. Less expectedly, there was pretty much no one else there to watch whatever happened next.

Deep within him he fought the rising urge to battle. The rising urge to WIN.

”Those aren't very nice things to say,“ he said in his best holier than thou voice (and trust him, it was a very good best), ”what would your parents think about you for picking on someone older than yourselves?“

The kid in the front scoffed, and his Zigzagoon fluffed its stripey fur in imitation of its trainer. ”They wouldn't be unhappy if we got to pick on someone who needs a lesson taught about who's on top here.” The other three nodded seriously, and Ruby could not help the laugh that barked out of his mouth.
It was an aggressive laugh, something that the kids might not have expected out of a coordinator silly enough to walk around cooing at their Pokemon. But he couldn't help it! It was idiodic what they were saying. A lot of coordinators who weren't him had an amazing handle on their Pokemon, and an understanding of themselves that literally no battler that Ruby had ever met could display to the same level.

(But that fight inside of him made it hard to pick a side, as always.)

“Laughing?” one of the kids said, as threateningly as he could with a Cascoon to his name and nothing else, “we'll crush you!”

“Uh huh,” Ruby laughed, walking backwards down the route with ease that came entirely from contest choreography, “sure you will.”

“You're scared to turn your back aren't you?” asked the poor kid with a sick looking Seedot (Jeeze, do a little better why don't you?), “That's why you aren't!”

“No,” Ruby said calmly, waiting for the final other person on the path to disappear, “I'm just not as stupid as you obviously assume I am.”

The fourth and final child (and the only with two Pokeballs) growled and jumped forward, starting the battle before even his two Pokemon knew what was happening. (The poor Poocheyana that was stuck with this kid's lousy training. Ruby could almost feel Nana cringing in her Pokeball as she watched the fellow dog jump late into the fight.)

“Sure,” Ruby said, “a brute fight, obviously.” He gestured vaguely and Kiki jumped towards the Poocheyana, giving it sparkles in its eyes as her tail twisted mesmerizingly, and then stars in its vision with a deep scratch to the face. The kid’s second Pokemon, a Lotad with a smaller than average lillypad, didn’t even risk the hit, running behind the leg before Kiki could even turn to him. The dog instantly went down, and Ruby tossed the kid a healing berry as Kiki jumped back onto his arm, purring again.

The four stared at him in shock, obviously not having expected that outcome. The kids were untrained to the point that Ruby didn't even have to comb Kiki's fur back into place, just as he'd expected.

Ruby rolled his eyes and pointed at the berry. ”Feed it to your Poocheyana. It'll make it feel better before you stop at the Pokemon center. Don't tell me you don't even pay enough attention to trainer news to know that?”

He turned, letting Kiki guard over his shoulder as the kid scooped up the poor dog and hesitantly fed it the berry. (Despite how glad he was that the battle had been less than a battle and more of a slap on the wrist, Ruby almost wished it had been more brutal.) He sighed and tried to be entirely happy about the ribbon he had won. One step closer to his goal, and one step away from the person inside of him who wanted the fun of battle.

But he had to pick one because he told himself he did.