Looking forward to a great SWC this month! : D

Helpful links:

The first SWC I was in: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/topic/525644/
The most recent SWC I was in: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/topic/639158/
My sister @savebats's current SWC: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/topic/695020/
My sister @fluffysheepwool's current SWC: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/topic/695296/
Main cabin this month: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/studios/33415323/
My cabin this month: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/studios/33402467/
My word count group this month: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/studios/33415417/
Our Megathread: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/topic/694030/
The thread of all my threads: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/topic/695070/

—
I'm in myth this time around, so the currency is ⎚s.

The points for each day will look like this:

Day #: #⎚ (reason) (# words in total, #⎚ in total)

(Each reason for the ⎚s will be counted separately and then total! Also, each different piece of writing that I can provide proof for will be in it's own little gray box with its own word count at the bottom, it helps to add it all up for the final count.)

Also, when I report my words to the cabin I will also include a total for the entire time at camp! I hope, that way, the job will be made easier for the word counters. (I did this last SWC and it seemed to help a lot.)\

My word goal this month is currently: 40, 000 words.

—
And just for archive purposes, here's my previous signature because I change it for every SWC!

-Starthorn / Star || (she/her)

All for the SWC Poetry Cabin this time ‘round! Let’s try to win this one. : )

My new signature for this season:

-Starthorn / Star || (she/her)

Let's go Romans and Greeks! Perhaps, we shall be equals and together shall win. (SWC)

Day 1: 2⎚ (War Update), 5⎚ (Cabin Daily), 1⎚ (Bed before 11PM) (1366 words in total, 8⎚ in total)

War Update (in-cabin daily): Self-Introduction (2⎚, 103 words*.)
➵ Introduce yourself: nickname, pronouns, and one cool fact (or more!) about yourself <33. Complete this activity to earn 2 ingots!

Hi there! : D My username is @Starthorn, but you can call me Star! (Or Thorn, I suppose, though that's not what I'd usually jump to. x D) I use she/her pronouns, (that's already in the cabin, I think).

This year, my SWC thread can be found at this link: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/topic/695067/

Now for facts about myself… hm, well, I play two instruments! (Bassoon and flute.) Also, I'm learning German, so you might occasionally see me writing in German for various activities, though I'm not anywhere near fluent yet. ToT I'm really looking forward to getting to know you guys this months, lets have a great Scratch Writing Camp!

Main Cabin Daily: Introduction, in a way. (5 ⎚, 171 words*.)
Welcome, everyone, to the July 2023 Megasession of SWC!
We’re so excited to have you here – so get out your sunhats, ice lollies and inflatable flamingo pool floaties, because the day we’ve all been waiting for has finally arrived. We hope everyone – hosts, leaders, and campers alike – have a magical time this July!
For every day of the month, we (the daily team!) will have a unique activity for you to complete. And today, it’s creative ice cream flavours day! Our first challenge is for you to introduce yourself in the main cabin comments – by describing yourself as an ice cream sundae. What flavours make up your character?
We can’t wait to hear from you all! Get writing, everyone ;D

I suppose that, if given the chance to be an icecream sundae, I would prefer to be a flavor I enjoy eating. However, I'm not exactly sure that the Stewarts flavor "fireworks' adequately describes my personality. I think it's just a little too sweet and I'm just a little too sad, although the pop rocks could easily represent the bursts of energy and hyperfixations quite well. Still, though, it's just a little too sweet to represent me.

With that in mind, I think the best flavor to describe me would be a coffee and chocolate mixture. I actually really dislike coffee ice cream (because I can't stand coffee), but I think the overwhelming amount of caffeine that it in combination with chocolate would create can be very representative of my difficulties with getting to sleep and also the potential hyperactivity. Also, it would not be overwhelmingly sweet to the point that it doesn't represent me anymore.

I think I would not want any toppings at all, other than maybe some salt. : )

Also, @krizpii contacted me to set some goals for the first week of SWC and I decided to set them as follows:

SWC goal: To write 10,000 words in order to stay on track with my general word count goal.
Non-SWC goal: To be able to land a double-pirouette nearly every time instead of on the off-occasion.

Flower-Split! - PKSP/Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, Blue Oak x Yellow (FeelingShipping), cute, flower-shop, attempt at humor, word-sprint. (1092 words.)
Used this prompt: https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/spring/start-your-story-with-your-character-s-going-to-bu/

Blue stared at the shop's open, waiting door nervously.

Admittedly, he had never done anything like this before- not once in his entire life. What could he say? He wasn't generally the romantic type, after all.

But Yellow was different from other people.

She deserved something really nice, even if the occasion itself wasn't traditionally romantic and even if he was going into this looking like a complete fool. Some girls really appreciated flowers and, sure Yellow had a full forest to go looking for them in, but he felt that he had to do this. That it was, somehow, a requirement.

He knew it was stupid, but he was going to follow-through anyway. Yellow deserved the best. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, so he had to pay it back somehow.

Somehow, Blue managed to bully himself into stepping through that threatening doorway.

He didn't actually know anything about flowers, or plants in general (being a fire-type main, he tended to just burn everything down), but he knew what colors he was looking for.

Call it corny, but Yellow's favorite color shared a title with her own name. It was pretty obvious when one took into account her wardrobe, and Blue thought it was very cute of her.

With that in mind, he was looking for a nice set of yellow flowers. Something living, something she could plant. (He had always thought of cut flowers as a rather stupid gift. They just dried up. Where was the romance in that?)

But who was he kidding, he had very little experience with proper romance.

So he stared around the little shop.

There were no other customers, and no one behind the counter at the moment. Great. He had been depending on asking them if there were any flowers that fit the requirements he had set up.

Blue fidgeted with his necklace, nose twitching in the way Yellow had called ‘cute’.

There were cut flowers, plants in pots, even little succulents and cactuses. In that back, he was pretty sure he spotted a few tomato plants (even if he didn't know much about plants, he had grown up in a farming town even before needing to adapt to wilderness survival and could identify food-bearing plants).

Blue steeled himself. (For some strange reason, this endeavor was more nerve-wracking than many of the recent battles he had been in.) He could start simple, he could look around.

So, trying to act casual, Blue began to walk through the store to check out the various options. Given that he was so tall, this close-up look wasn't as needed as it might have been for someone else. After all, he was still planning to ask the employee once they came out from the back-room (or where-ever they were off to).

There were some very beautiful flowers in the second row that he didn't recognize, but they sure weren't yellow, so he kept walking. A few steps later, there was a set of young garlic plants which he found very strangely placed, but Yellow already had garlic in her garden so he ignored them. Then there were some cut flowers, and some of them were beautifully Yellow, but they weren't what he was looking for.

At the last row, Blue stopped and stared forward.

Maybe this was a stupid idea.

Plus, no one had returned to the counter, and he didn't know how long he would have before Yellow would get back to her house. If she got back too quickly, he wouldn't have any time to surprise her, which would sort of ruin the whole plan he had begun to set up.

Blue glanced around one last time, sighed, and started to pick his way back towards the door. Oh well. The plan could do without professional flowers, he could probably just pick some in the woods for her on his way back through the forest.

But just as he reached the counter again, a door behind him opened. Through it, a very familiar voice floated up.

“-he's not really the type for flowers, but I thought he might appreciate the gesture at least,“ the voice gushed.

Blue froze, was that who he thought it was.

”Seriously, thank you so much! You were such a help-” then, the voice suddenly cut off with a surprised yelp.

Blue turned around slowly.

There, standing a little ways from him, stood Yellow. Her mouth was open in surprise, eyes wide in that adorable way they got when she was not expecting something. In her hands, he realized, was a planter pot with several purple and green flowers.

He felt slightly light-headed. Those were his favorite colors.

“Blue?!“ a grin broke out on Yellow's face.

Blue blinked at her, dumbfounded. He felt a blush spreading across his face, “I thought…” he started, “I thought you were going to visit Green?“

Yellow blushed. Behind her, the employee looked both delighted and confused by this turn of events.

Shuffling towards him as her face reddened, Yellow stuck out the flowers toward him. She laughed as a surprised statement of her own rushed forth, “I- I thought you were staying at my house!”

Blue looked helplessly at Yellow, then at the flowers, then at the worker, then back at his girlfriend. “I was… going to get you flowers,” he managed.

“Me too!“ Yellow giggled, her face bright pink.

Suddenly, Blue felt very warm. His heart fluttered in his chest, slowly reaching out and taking the flowers from her.

”I'll buy them,“ he offered.

Yellow shook her head, ”It's my gift to you!“

He opened his mouth to offer again, when the employee giggled behind Yellow. His face heated up even more as Yellow laughed.

”Sorry,“ she looked back at the employee, looking dizzy with embarrassed joy, ”I didn't mean for this to happen!“

”It's fine,“ the woman shook her head, laughing, ”It's been a slow day anyway!“

She then went back behind the counter and smiled, first at Yellow, then at Blue. (It felt like every time either of them looked his way, Blue got more red.)

”You can split!“ the employee said.

Yellow laughed, “Is that really okay?”

“It's fine with me!” the woman smiled, “If you both want to!”

Swallowing, Blue nodded. “Sounds good,” he managed.

And, as such, they both paid for the pot of flowers and, each with a hold on it, left the flower-shop in a whirlwind of embarrassment and joy and surprise. It was, after all, a better gift if they could share.

Okay, goodnight now! I'm going to bed. (1⎚)

*Not counting any links or emojicons throughout.

Day 2: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily), 2 + 16⎚ (War Update), 1⎚ (Bed before 11 PM) (2882 words in total, 24⎚ in total)

Main-Cabin Daily: 5 words. (5⎚, 1101 words.)
Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, regurgitate five random words into the comment section. Now, gobble down somebody else's five random words and write 300 words using those delicious words as a prompt to earn 200 points! Sharing the daily you wrote with those scrumptious vomitted words will allow you to slurp up an extra 50 points.

Words written: Pull, copper, follow, flight, nightfall (here)
Words chosen: “Creature,” “Path,” “Fight,” “Bike,” “Fire,” (by @savebats here)

Questions - Ash Ketchum, Pokeani, to re-write

Ever since he had accidentally stolen and destroyed Misty's BIKE, Ash's life had changed massively. Even though that was years ago now, the effect of meeting her still ran through his life, still controlled important aspects of his pokemon journey.

What if he hadn't taken it from her? What if she hadn't stuck around with him?

His travels would be very different. He wouldn't have walking partners- only a rival and Team Rocket. Maybe he wouldn't even have been inspired to go on more travels after he was done with the Kanto league. Maybe he never would have gone to the Orange Islands, or Johto, or all the others.

That meeting had created a ripple effect throughout his life, and at the time it hadn't even seemed important. Just another trainer riding along the PATH. It wasn't uncommon, about half the population were pokemon trainers (as in, actual trainers, not just people who owned one as a pet or something like that).

It was interesting to think about the first people who had been with him on this crazy dream, the first people who had supported his insane ideas, the first people who had helped him through the inherent danger and difficulty of being a traveling trainer.

Some days, that just felt so far away. Some days, it was like it hadn't even happened. And Ash found that morbidly fascinating.

All those FIGHTS, all that danger- the FIRE and drowning and attacks and possessions- just adding into goal after goal after goal. When would he stop? It didn't seem like one champion title was enough, not even two.

But after officially claiming the World Champion title, Ash thought that would have been enough.

He was wrong.

It was only a few weeks before he started getting itchy again. Itchy for new travels, that was, and more battles. He supposed that it was because he had spent so long on it, or because it was hard to just shy away from a life-goal even once he had completed it. How could he just throw away that part of himself?

So it wasn't surprising when Ash found himself sitting outside his mother's house staring across his backyard, over the Oak's gardens, and into the Lab's fenced-off land. The stars were bright overhead, a full moon easily lighting the hilly land of Pallet Town.

He knew there were hundreds of pokemon within those fences, many of which caught by him or his true Rival- cared for and studied by Kanto's top researchers. Maybe if he had been more interested in the CREATURES in a scientific way, he could have become a researcher after winning the World Championship. That could be a new goal to obsess over: top Professor.

But there was no way it was happening.

Ash looked up at the sky.

It was the same as the way it looked when he gazed up at it with Gary, both before their shared travels and before the final championship battle. Ash's chest felt tight.

Was Gary still his Rival if they no longer fought for the same profession, the same spot? If Ash had left him behind for other rivals through years and years of traveling? Did the bond still exist in the same way now that it was over?

If he was really done with traveling and goals, why wasn't he over the end of his first rivalry?

Ash slowly stood, brushing bits of grass and dirt off his shorts. There was a whole world out there. Sure, he'd explored it, but only through one way of looking at it.

His stomach seemed to roll over in its cavity, a sickening feeling of excitement burning up from inside him. There was more to do. There always was, even if he had claimed the first annual World Champion title.

So Ash stood shakily and turned his gaze towards the little bit of the Viridian Forest he could see behind the continued river of Route 21 and the distant farmhouses.

He could always restart, right?

ew I'm sorry Bats I should have done this better ToT

War Update: Alliance-building. (2⎚, 477 words.)
➵ Take part in the “Building Alliances” event to get to know your cabin mates and earn ingots along the way! <3
-NightGlow-
Storyline Time! || You know that you've chosen the right side - this coming battle was one to end all. For that to be done properly preparation and scheming have to take place. As you trudge your way over to the Acropolis in hopes of planning your next move, you notice a worn-out sign with a freshly painted coat of ivory, spelling out the words “Building Alliances”.
-NightGlow-
Hmm.. what could that be about?” you asked yourself, pushing the golden door open in search of an answer. Members from the European Confederation gathered all around.. it was the perfect place to gather intel on anyone. And so you knew… Welcome to Myth's “Building Alliances” event!
-NightGlow-
Above everything else, there was one thing important about this war: finding out the root cause - something which after centuries of fighting, no one knows. What better place to start than getting closer to your allies and enemies? Your task is to find out something about each of your cabin members (favorite food, color, TV shows, genres, etc.)! You may ask anyone who is participating in SWC this session, just keep in my mind that you will be asking everyone the same question, so choose wisely!
-NightGlow-
Each answer you receive is worth a number of points - if it's from a Mythian then it is worth five points, two points if it's someone from the European Confederation (sibling cabins <3), and one point for anyone else participating in SWC. Remember to keep track of the number of points you have - there are sure to be prizes for both your word count group and you! Have fun!
-NightGlow-
Credits to Dystopian Dynasty - SWC March 23' (led by Moonlit (@MoonlitSeas) and Reese (@TheBibliophile7) <33). This activity is an inspiration from the “dystopian pickpocket activity”
krizpii
Each /answer/ you receive is worth a number of ingots - if it's from a Mythian then it is worth three ingots, two ingots if it's someone from the European Confederation (sibling cabins <3), and one ingot for anyone else participating in SWC. Remember to keep track of the number of points you have - there are sure to be prizes for both your word count group and you! Have fun!

Part one, lore. (Worth words!)

Thorn was a foot solider.

She was a demigod, born to the god Apollo but allied under the armies of the Romans. Poetry had never come easily to her, nor healing magic or general medicine. The sun seemed to burn her skin rather than rejuvenate her as it might with her various half-siblings around the globe and Archery wasn't her strong suit either.

Really, it seemed the only thing she was good at was music, and music did not have a very important role in war.

So it was pretty normal for her to spend time at the Acropolis when battles weren't paying out, spending her time on music to clear her mind instead of focusing on the danger and violence that seemed to be constantly surrounding her these days. Sure, she could be planning or looking for allies and friends, but today, she just wanted to play a bit in case things… went wrong.

She had brought the strange, wooden instrument her father had gifted her. (It seemed like it was from some time far in the future, and no one she had ever met could come up with a name for the darn thing. In any case, she loved it with her whole soul.)

But before she could even think of setting up to force some sad tune out of the double-reed, Thorn's eyes caught on a old sign by the edge of a temple.

Or, rather, an old sign that someone had very recently used.

“Building Alliances” it read, in bright, ivory paint.

Thorn stopped where she stood. There, in the back of her mind, there was a little feeling of familiarity. It was a feeling she remembered in the depths of her soul, something familiar where it shouldn't have logically been.

What did it mean?

So, she stared curiously at the sign, her mind reaching for something that she couldn't find.

What was so familiar about this?

But Thorn shook the questions and pushed down the odd bile that it seemed to pull up from her sickened body. Alliances didn't seem like such a bad idea, really.

So, she looked around the area a little more closely. There, at the top of the hill, she could see gathered warriors. Greeks and Romans, she realized with a start. It wasn't just her side.

For some reason, that made her hopeful.

So, with the odd feeling forgotten once more, Thorns set off towards the gathered group. She could ask questions and chat with other people; she just couldn't figure out her own questions. Those didn't matter anyway…

Right?

(430 words.)

Part two, introduction essays for a few words.

I was contacted by @thedancinghedgehog on my Profile

After being contacted, I set down to getting a working question of my own.

Taking into account that I could not ask more than one question for points and that I would be asking people from outside of the Myth cabin, I decided that the question needed to be generalized. It couldn't be directly related to Scratch Writing Camp because I wasn't sure if people would answer such questions. I didn't want it to be too ‘strange’ (like my first question idea: is your favorite color different from what color you think represents you). I also didn't want it to be cabin lore related, as other SWCers wouldn't understand our cabin's lore.

In that way, my question went through a few iterations.

The first of these, as previously mentioned was related to favorite colors and colors representing oneself. I just didn't feel like it would get much attention from the generally SWC population, so I completely scrapped the idea and choose a totally new approach.

This second time around, it was a classic question that I really do ask a lot of people in real life: what's your favorite pokemon? I really would have liked to ask this one, but not everyone is into Pokémon (they should be, in my opinion /lh) so I dropped it too. It just didn't seem like I'd get a lot of singular responses.

So, for the third round, I again cleared my mind and tried to think of something that most people could answer easily enough. Something that wasn't Scratch Writing Camp specific but would be shared with all the people in the event anyway: our Scratch accounts.

That was how I eventually came to my final question idea: How/why did you first join Scratch?

For me, the answer is sort of difficult. I just feel like I've been on Scratch for such a long time at this point that the original way I joined is lost to time. But in fact, I do remember when I joined.

The project was accidentally unshared and then reshared a few years ago, but I joined Scratch because when I re-found the website months after experimenting with it in my fifth-grade library class, I set to making a game before even making an account. This game was called ‘Bat Adventure’. It wasn't high quality, it wasn't even that fun to play, but I loved it.

From there, I decided to create an account so I could archive my game forever.

Since then, I've been a reasonably active member on Scratch. Even though my ideas of what's fun on here to do have changed, even though I hardly code games anymore, I decided to stick around. I'm curious what brought other Scratchers to this site in the first place. How different is it from their modern Scratch account?

(477 words, not counting any links or tone tags throughout.)

Part three, log. (Not worth any words.)

@savebats answer - 1 point. 1⎚.
@fluffysheepwool answer - 1 point. 1⎚.
@Eeveedonut answer - 2 points. 2⎚.
@-BrokenMelody-'s answer - 5 points. 3⎚.
@thedancinghedgehog's answer - 5 points. 3⎚.
@SandstarRiverClan's answer - 5 points. 3⎚.
@-Evermorexx's answer - 5 points. 3⎚.

Total thus far:
Points: 24
⎚: 16

Helicopter Friend - Pokespe/Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures + Pokeani/Pokemon Anime/Anipoke, texting fic, celebrity events, different voices (Words: 1023)
https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/dialogue/write-a-story-told-entirely-through-text-messages-/ (I've decided on using a prompt every day to write.)

Greeeeeeeeen: soooo, when's the event? i got distracted with some fashion stuff
RED!!!: Seriously???
Greeeeeeeeen: Dx the shoes were SO cute, you would never get it
RED!!!: Naw, but if they were badges of smthin….
Blue Oak: For the love of Arceus, am I the only person who actually pays attention in this region?
WORLD CHAMP: yeah tbh
Yellow ^u^: Oh, that's not true Ash. : ( Be nice to yourself!
Greeeeeeeeen: be so fr Yellow, he does not pay attention
RED!!!: I pay attention. >: (
Blue Oak: Sure.
Blue Oak: In anycase, you have and hour to prepare. We have to be at the booked location by noon, and they've set up some interveiws back stage.
Greeeeeeeeen: NO WHAT
Yellow ^u^: I've been done for and hour tbh, do you need help * anything?
Yellow ^u^: *with
Greeeeeeeeen: AN HOUR AND A HALF
RED!!!: Is it really? I've got time then.
WORLD CHAMP: yeah me too
Blue Oak: Well, I've been here since seven in the morning. They expected me early, and I'd prefer not to arrive fashionably late.
Greeeeeeeeen: I WILL
Greeeeeeeeen: I HAD SUCH A COOL DRESS TOOOOOOO
Greeeeeeeeen: : (((((
Yellow ^u^: Then put it on, right? You have time!
Greeeeeeeeen: it still need to pick it up
WORLD CHAMP: lmao
Greeeeeeeeen: this is not good Ash
RED!!!: i think it's kinda funny tbh
Greeeeeeeeen: AND MY MAKEUP-
Greeeeeeeeen: *throws up*
Blue Oak: Not to be that guy, but perhaps you should start on getting ready rather than texting us these sentences.
RED!!!: “these sentences”
WORLD CHAMP: “these sentences”
Yellow ^u^: “these sentences”
Greeeeeeeeen: tbh I don't care Blue, I'm already flying over to the shop
RED!!!: me all the time
RED!!!: not the going to the store part
RED!!!: im prolly gonna wear a t-shirt
Blue Oak: ”im"
WORLD CHAMP: it's only funny when WE do it Blue !!!!
Yellow ^u^: Green, what's your dress like? I don't think I've seen it yet.
Greeeeeeeeen: it's real pretty!!
Yellow ^u^: You're always real pretty, Green. : )
RED!!!: me when I'm pansexual
Yellow ^u^: But you're not?
RED!!!: I meant you bby girl
Blue Oak: Please never say those words again.
WORLD CHAMP: PLEASE do actually
RED!!!: of course bby girl
Greeeeeeeeen: ew
Blue Oak: Ew.
Yellow ^u^: I think it's funny hee hee
WORLD CHAMP: “hee hee”
Yellow ^u^: Why are you so mean : (
WORLD CHAMP: lol
WORLD CHAMP: i'm not?
Greeeeeeeeen: aaaanyway guys, what time eeexactly do whe have to be there?
Blue Oak: 12:00 sharp. Please.
RED!!!: why the please???
Blue Oak: I'm the only one on time ever.
Yellow ^u^: NOT true I'm there about half the time!!!
Blue Oak: And I love you for that Yellow, but the rest of these fools don't seem to get the memo.
WORLD CHAMP: I am not a fool tho?
RED!!!: he says as he pulls out a pokedex for a pidgey
WORLD CHAMP: okay okay pack it up icey boy
Greeeeeeeeen: ew that was uncomfortable
Blue Oak: Yeah tbh
RED!!!: HE SAID TBH????
Yellow ^u^: omg he's human????
Blue Oak: Why does no one think I can express myself through shortened phrases.
Greeeeeeeeen: Because of that sentence you just wrote, I'll be honest
Blue Oak: Green, is your dress on yet?
Greeeeeeeeen: ooooooooohh??
Greeeeeeeeen: How forward????
Blue Oak: No. It's not.
Yellow ^u^: I ASK HER THAT SO OFTEN
RED!!!: 0-0
RED!!!: i wish I could copy in a tails getting trolled
WORLD CHAMP: me when I'm Yellow and women are my hobby
Greeeeeeeeen: LOL
Yellow ^u^: Not a hobby!!!! An interest.
RED!!!: i say that too.
Blue Oak: I don't.
RED!!!: fruity!
WORLD CHAMP: BI?????
Greeeeeeeeen: not me lol
Blue Oak: I didn't mean that.
Blue Oak: You had better get moving, guys.
Blue Oak: If I'm the only one here for the starting interveiws again I am not going to be happy….
RED!!!: riiiight, cause no one wants that
Yellow ^u^: Don't worry, I'm almost there! It's in Viridian, right?
Blue Oak: Yes.
Blue Oak: Red, are you getting ready yet? Not a t-shirt, please.
WORLD CHAMP: I'm going to wear a coat
Blue Oak: I'll be honest? Didn't ask.
RED!!!: real
RED!!!: I'm wearing a tank top then
Greeeeeeeeen: SLAYYYY
Greeeeeeeeen: okay the dress is on now lads
Yellow ^u^: omg I'm so excited!!!!
WORLD CHAMP: send a phot???
RED!!!: “phot”
Yellow ^u^: “phot”
Greeeeeeeeen: lol no! You can see it later : D
Blue Oak: Alright, are we ready then?
Greeeeeeeeen: No????
Greeeeeeeeen: I still need to do my make up lol
Yellow ^u^: me when I am pretending to be a man
RED!!!: what?
Yellow ^u^: idk what i meant by that tbh
WORLD CHAMP: *me when I am pretending to be a girl
Yellow ^u^: ?
Yellow ^u^: I am a girl?
WORLD CHAMP: no, me
RED!!!: You're going dress for this??????
WORLD CHAMP: no???? lmao????
Greeeeeeeeen: You should tbh, i think i'm the only oen wearing one
Blue Oak: *one
Greeeeeeeeen: your so anoying
Yellow ^u^: (that wasn't the right “you're” ToT)
RED!!!: well, i've got curves to show in solidarity!
Blue Oak: No you don't.
Yellow ^u^: where ToT
WORLD CHAMP: naw you do not
RED!!!: zamn guys you really don't think so?
Blue Oak: You look like a slip of paper. Full offense.
Greeeeeeeeen: THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING
Yellow ^u^: okey I'm at the building
Blue Oak: SO real Yellow, did you bring your pokemon?
Yellow ^u^: Of course!
Greeeeeeeeen: did he just say ‘real’
RED!!!: man.
WORLD CHAMP: man.
WORLD CHAMP: I should probably start getting my coat on, huh.
Blue Oak: …
Blue Oak: Yes.
RED!!!: Aw man, i've gotta put a hiurt on???
Greeeeeeeeen: what is a hiurt
RED!!!: a shirt
Yellow ^u^: sapphire coded
Yellow ^u^: I'm sorry that was mean : (
WORLD CHAMP: lol
WORLD CHAMP: would it also be a problem that I'm in Fushia rn
Blue Oak: You know? I think this is why other reasons fail to take us seriously. Maybe I should just quit trying to get you guys to cooperate.
Greeeeeeeeen: maybe you should!!!!

Critiquing @hyacinthe_'s daily (281 words.)

His writing at the time of my critique:
It was dark out, it was always dark out, since the Sun had died.

Monsters had taken over the realm, everyone became used to their shadowy embrace and the slow, always approaching, promise of death.

But for those not already perished, there were mouths to provide for, people to feed. Sisters, looking so longingly at the rich who occasionally stagger out of their fortresses to buy something new while the rest of us go without. Who live safely over the hill. Where sundrops still fall, and their world is illuminated by the moon.

We wish we could be like them. But not us. Never us. We are not good enough to have been chosen as survivors. Our magic is weak, our promise is little. We are not tokens worth keeping, soldiers capable of protecting. We are forgotten. We fend for ourselves. After checking twice that Aura and Argento wouldn’t venture off (little children tended to end up chased by the ventala when no one could protect them) you crept closer and closer to the chain link fence that kept everyone in, and was supposed to keep monsters out. But what a lousy job it did. Ventala, Wraithes, and more would wander the streets. So most felt safer inside, where there was strength in numbers.

But for those of us who so desperately needed to eat, well, we’d rather risk our lives out there in the wild than be stuck here.

You wandered out, slowly, hoping that the monsters in the ground didn’t think you were a worthwhile snack. But once your feet landed on the grassy meadow, you took off in a sprint. You were free. And although you were working, in danger, and hungry, this was the most freedom you’d ever had in your life. Before the Sun died, you rarely ever went outside. You were expected to become the heir to your father’s company, and you had been preparing to take the role. That was your only future. But now, you could use your skills to do something more. Something freeing. Tackling monsters and feeding family. What more could you want? Nothing. Life was perfect as is.

My editing (bold is me, regular is him):
It was dark out, it was always dark out, since the Sun had died.

Since monsters had taken over the realm, the people who lived hereeveryone became used to their shadowy embrace and the slow, always approaching, promise of death.

But for those not already perished, there were mouthspeople to provide for, peoplemouths to feed. Sisters, looking so longingly at the rich who occasionally staggered out of their fortresses. They were looking to buy something new while the rest of us have to go without. WhoThe rich live safely over the hill, where sundrops still fall, and their world is illuminated by the moon.

We wish we could be like them. But not us. Neverwe can never be, not us. We are not good enough to have been chosen as survivors. Our magic is weak, our promise is little. We are not tokens worth keeping, nor soldiers capable of protecting. We are forgotten and we fend for ourselves.

Perhaps put some sort of transition paragraph here?

new paragraphAfter checking twice that Aura and Argento wouldn’t venture off (little children tended to end up chased by the ventala when no one could protect them) you crept closer and closer to the chain link fence that kept everyone in, and was supposed to keep monsters out. But what a lousy job it did! Ventala, Wraithes, and more would still wander the streets with this here, so most felt safer inside, where there was strength in numbers.

But for those of us who so desperately needed to eat… well, we’d rather risk our lives out there in the wild than be stuck here starving.

You wandered out, slowly at first, hoping that the monsters in the ground didn’t think you were a worthwhile snack, but once your feet landed on the grassy meadow, you took off in a sprint. You were free! And although you were working, in danger, and hungry, this was the most freedom you’d ever had in your life. Even before the Sun died, you rarely ever went outside. You were expected to become the heir to your father’s company, and you had been preparing to take the role. That was your only future. But now, you could use your skills to do something more. Something freeing. Tackling monsters and feeding family. What more could you want? Nothing! Life was perfect as is.

(35 words.)

My comments:

I very much enjoyed this piece! Your voice was super strong and descriptive in that modern fairy-tale way that I enjoy so so much, and the setting was intriguing- I want to know more! It was also very nicely inspired by the words you choose, and I'm glad that you were the SWCer to use these prompts. : )

In editing, I tried my best to keep the voice alive in your writing as well as the perspective. (I write mostly in 3rd person and with a very different voice than you, so this was a very nice challenge!) In general with my edits, I was just looking to make the story flow, but in the end all my suggestions were my own opinions and you are free to make whatever changes you want and ignore whatever edits you want.

Mainly, I think the story could be expanded on into a fuller short story, but with the time constraints of Scratch Writing Camp, I understand why you kept it shorter. (I have done the same thing many times myself, particularly with my own daily today!)

Really, all it all, it was very fun to read and the world is fascinating! What could be improved upon are expanding the story when you feel like it or get inspired or have more time (mainly because I want to read more lol), and knitting the paragraphs together so they flow a little bit smoother. Still, very enjoyable! Thank you for posting. : D

(246 words not counting emojicons.)

1101 + 477 + 281 + 1023

Day 3: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily), 1⎚ (Bed before 11 PM) (260 words in total, 6 ⎚ in total)

Cabin Daily - Truth or Dare (N/A words, 5⎚)
Let's play a quick game of truth and dare! Ask for a truth or a dare in the main cabin and wait for someone to reply with one. The truth and dares can be of any topic or theme you can come up with. Painting a lasagna is an example of a dare, while asking someone about their darkest fear is an example of a truth! Please make sure that the truth and dares are appropriate. Although this daily is worth no points, it's a fantastic way to connect with other SWC members.
I played in two places but I can't find the first one, so here's the second: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/studios/33415323/comments/#comments-227975028

Wrote some random prompts in a notebook: (260 words)

Red began to wonder, after a while, if Blue only saw imperfections when he looked in the mirror- and if it was really worth asking or not.

Her phone pinged, a sure sign someone had seen it- and Chloe pressed her head harder against her pillow. Not today.

The sunburn across her shoulders hurt like anything, but man that had been worth it, even at the expense of her shoulders!

For all he was worth, Gold was not about to rest his entire fate in the hands of a crazed god- or anyone, for that matter.

The man sat so still and so alert that, at first, he might have been taken as a statue. That is, until he opened his eyes.

In der Vergangenheit, die Welt war grosser. Waelder war dick und schwarz, und das Meer ach so kalt. Aber das geht nicht mehr. Nicht jetzt, nicht heir.

It had only been an hour, but X was done. In fact, he had been done since the moment he arrived at this event, but Y insisted he stay.

Every year, Yellow pushed off entering the League. Every year, she just thought she'd try again the next year- have the time in between to practice. But this year, she was going to do it. She was going to enter.

“Oh yeah?” Gold sneered at the Rocket grunt who stood over him through the blood dripping down from his forehead, “And what are you gonna do? Make me cry?”

Der ganzen Tag, der ganzen Zeit, jeden Tag- er war leise. Sehr leise.

(Apologies for the bad German.)

I had to set this up the next day, I fell asleep really early before I could log anything.

Day 4: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily), 2⎚ (War Update), 1⎚ (bed before 11PM) (2235 words for today, 7⎚ for today.) 6743 words, 29⎚ in total so far.

Cabin Daily: bi-fi twist! (2045 words, 5⎚)
When creating the cabin lineup for this session, we sadly had to say goodbye to two of our regular cabins: Fanfiction (Fan-Fi) and Bizarro Fiction (Bi-Fi). As an homage to them, we'll be focusing on those genres today!
First, comment at least one idea for a bi-fi twist - for example, “”inanimate objects are able to speak.“” Then, take a look at this excellent workshop on character voice in fanfiction by Fae (@-faerylights) from July 2022: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/701390524
Pick a “chunk” of your favorite piece of existing media (it can be anything, as long as there's a plotline!) and consider the pacing and flow, how the ideas was connected. With that in mind, choose two of the bi-fi prompts from the comments here and incorporate them into a rewrite of your “chunk” of the original media. Your bizarro fanfiction should be at least 400 words for 400 points! Sharing your creation will earn you an additional 100 points.

Part one: My bi-fi twists. (These are fun lol)

Bi-fi twist: Each time the main character earns money, it makes a noise like in a video game, but it doesn't do this for anybody else. (Claimed by @savebats. Here.)

Bi-fi twist: In the climactic scene of the story, a character suddenly collapses for some reason that is not immediately apparent. (Claimed by @-meow-L-cat-, @Sandy-Dunes here, and @bewildered- here.)

Bi-fi twist: For some reason, every character other than the main character is convinced that the main character really needs to eat lunch and keeps trying to bring them food- but they aren't hungry!

Bi-fi twist: When the main character goes to speak in an important scene, a text box pops up instead, and no noise leaves their lips. Claimed by @Mydoggiedaisy

Bi-fi twist: The villain apparently has an identical twin and it is revealed that this twin has been doing half the crimes the entire time. This makes prosecuting hard. Claimed by @Mydoggiedaisy

(125 words, not counting the “bi-fi twist” or “claimed by blah blah blah”.)

Part two: using other people's bi-fi twists.
Used @savebats prompt and @bewildered- prompt:“bi-fi twist: main character doesn't have a heart (you can interpret this however you want)” (I decided to go metaphorical.)
Also, I had already started this fic and altered it a little bit for these prompts. I'm only going to count the words I wrote today, the stuff I've already written will be…*spins wheel* underlined.

It Starts With Your Heart, What A Great Sensation! Chapter 1. Pokespe/Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, Feelingshipping, shared injury!soulmate AU, title is from Schoolhouse Rock.
Give or take a few months, it was around Yellow's fifth birthday that she started getting her ‘injuries of unusual proportions’- as her uncle liked to call them. These days, with modern medicine, it was uncommon that someone would receive shared injuries of the caliber she was at such a young age. Scrapes and bruises and that sort were common due to the mildly dangerous nature of playing the way children did, but not to the degree that started appearing on her.

At first, it had really been scary, because the only shared injuries she had gotten (or given, for that matter) until that point were usually very harmless in the long run. There had been one bad scrape when she was around three, but that had gone away relatively quickly.

When the worse ones started, her uncle was initially angry that his niece had to take them too, cursing whoever was on the other side of her bond for not being careful enough, but when it didn't stop after the first few he started to be more worried than angry. Luckily, Yellow's connection with the spirit of the Viridian Forest meant that she healed quickly and even the worst bruises went away in a few weeks. This meant that her uncle didn't need to worry too much about her falling ill or being completely put out because of her injuries, which was good.

It didn't really stop them from hurting, though.

On top of that, healing herself all hours of the day meant that she was also tired around the clock. It was a common sight for her friends in Viridian City to see her falling asleep while eating or even walking, having to heal herself all the time like that. It got to the point that her uncle sent her to school with a pillow, since the constant usage of her healing had become second nature (and that meant her choosing to fall asleep, even at a not wonderful time, could help to prevent passing out in dangerous places- like while crossing the road).

By the time she was nine, the worst of the injuries had slowed down. Her uncle didn't really show it, but she knew that it calmed his nerves to some degree- not having to worry about whoever Yellow was connected to so much.

In just one year, she was supposed to choose if she wanted to be a pokemon trainer or not, but at that time she was very nervous about it. After all, it was nearly certain that the kid who kept giving her injuries was a pokemon trainer. There were only so many times you could get kicked in the stomach with the force of a semi-truck if you weren't training. With that in mind, Yellow had seen the scary part of training pokemon before any of the fun, interesting parts of a journey.

She had even avoided capturing any pokemon (despite the fact that her uncle urged her to). She wasn't scared of them, but the idea of spreading bad injuries to her soulmate the same way they did to her was frightening. Plus, she didn't want to get hurt like that any more than she had to- not shared, not first-hand. If one of the two of them could stay away from danger (and continuously heal), they would both probably stay out of the hospital. She couldn’t be a pokemon trainer, she had to stay safe for the two of them.

But her mind was changed when she met Red.

Things had been going strange in her forest recently (even her connection to it had felt off, not as clear as it used to), and he had helped her. Besides her city's Gym Leader, who she had frankly never met, Red was the most intimidating pokemon trainer she had ever seen. But, unlike Giovanni and his disappearing act, Red was intimidating in a good way. A way that made you want to be on his side because he could protect you.

She wondered, distantly, if he was the one connected to her. Then again, it was rare to meet your soulmate, especially when you were still young. (Sometimes she hated the way the system worked, randomized as it was.) But once the seed of thought had been placed in her head, it was hard to get out.

When Red left, Yellow decided that she might grow up to be a pokemon trainer after all. Perhaps not a super powerful one, but a pokemon trainer in her own regard. Her uncle rejoiced at the news, and promised to help her catch pokemon whenever she wanted to- even though he was not all that skilled himself. Still, she was grateful (although never taking him up on the offer).

But a few months later, Yellow was shared the worst injury she had ever experienced. It was hard to describe: somewhere between a cut and a tear across her body, though neither of those words were quite enough to capture the full picture. Honestly, it was like getting slashed by some sort of weapon- or like her entire upper body was an unassuming finger being sliced in half on a piece of particularly rusty metal.

And, because it was a shared injury, there was no warning. No nothing. (Though she had been feeling physically ill for a few minutes beforehand, short of breath and queasy- like a long car-ride.)

At the very least her uncle was home at the time, because otherwise she didn't know if her healing power alone could have caught up with the injury. It was an explosion of pain, a very obvious (and immediate) wetness of blood in her shirt, and a collapse on the floor as the Viridian Forest instantaneously jumped to an attempt at healing her. From a combination of the shock of it all, the intense pain, and having to heal herself, Yellow passed out.

She woke up a few hours later at the hospital with her uncle and a few friends from school crowded around her, their nervous faces and pacing feet fading into view just as the thumping pain was still through her body.

“U-uncle?” she coughed, finding then just how dry her throat was.

Her uncle jumped up from the chair next to her hospital bed where he had been sitting, and she saw the melting worry in his eyes. “Yellow!” he reached out as if to touch her but suddenly pulled back, only then remembering the state she was in.

Yellow tried to smile at him and sit up, but a wince took over when she went to move.

“They got you on some sort of medication, I'm not sure what,” her uncle went on, and by now her friends had come over and were babbling around her, “I got some of a Potion on it earlier, but it was nasty,” he continued.

One of her friends cut in, almost wailing, “I didn't know what was wrong! I came as fast as I could,” One of the others nodded sharply and Yellow could definitely see the redness in their eyes.

“Is it your soulmate again?” asked a third friend, and Yellow's uncle cut in before Yellow could respond.

He swore, looking furious on top of worried for his niece, “Mark my words,” he snarled, “If I ever meet that kid, or- whatever keeps doing this to them, I'm setting my Kakuna on them,”

This was the only proper scar she had ever kept from a shared injury and, yes, she was sure that it would become a scar even before seeing the extent of the injury. The babbling of her friends around her seemed to be describing it as horrible, worse than anything they had ever seen on her. (It certainly felt like that.)

Yellow felt a little twinge in her gut, a somewhat pleasant distraction from the pain still throbbing from her abdomen. (It really did feel like her entire upper body had been twisted apart, the bandages coating her making sense at that.) She didn't want to bring up her thoughts from a few months back, but part of her was worried for the boy she had thought to be her soulmate.

Red. If he was connected to her in that way, what had happened to him? What could have possibly done… that?

When she was discharged from the hospital it was still all she could think about. If Red really was her soulmate, she was worried about him. But how would she know that he was? Yellow had always assumed that there would be some sort of instant feeling, some sort of connection. But, when she looked it up at the library a few weeks later, the results were inconsistent.

Maybe it really was her and Red.

But when she watched the League with her uncle on TV, only a month or so later, she didn't notice anything strange about Red. And, when she tried to look closely at the lower part of his arm (which should have shown a cut), she didn't see anything. Still, Yellow wasn't fully convinced that it wasn't him. (Neither was she fully convinced that it was him, she'd just have to see).

She didn't pay much attention to Red's final opponent in the match, but there was something about him that caught her eye. Maybe it was his fashion sense. Wasn't that a little much to be wearing as a fire-type trainer? Wasn't it warm? But she had to put all thoughts of him away and focus on Red.

There was something about watching this match, between this boy she knew and this stranger, that was different. Maybe there was some sort of instinctual connection after all, just maybe.

With all this wonder and half-trust in the idea, Yellow had to admit that almost two years later, when some girl named Green told her that something had happened to Red, Yellow's stomach seemed to flip upside down. She hadn't felt anything in particular, but as usual she had been dealing with the occasional scrape, cut and occasional puncture. Things did build up eventually, right? Maybe something else was wrong.

So of course she accepted Green's offer, though not taking on the part about the feeling she had in the back of her mind.

A confusing trip to Pallet Town and a very scary battle with some powerful ice-type trainer later, Yellow found herself standing in front of someone who looked a lot like Red. Well, someone who looked exactly like Red. In fact, even Pika thought it was him at first. But then, something was wrong.

She had felt something pulling her there, but if it wasn't for Red, what could it be for?

—

Though admittedly below the official age to join the League, Blue managed to convince his grandfather to let him start training by the time he turned seven. After all, if he was going to be the best by the time be was ten, why not start early? Not that he thought he'd need extra time, but because he was simply itching to go.

However, it was also admitable that he wasn't exactly anticipating the physical injury aspects of the training. Well, he expected a few bumps and scrapes but this…

Blue tried not to feel bad for whatever poor person was linked to him as Chuck's wife dabbed a patch of cotton and alcohol at a new gash on his leg. He tried not to cry as he bandaged his own stinging scrapes. He tried not to think about what this meant for his soulmate as he received yet another kick to the throat from his master's Hitmontop. At this rate, he wasn't going to have any sort of injury left that he hadn't shared with them.

He must not have a heart, to let them be hurt like this.

The whole sharing injuries thing had never really been explained to him. And, along with it never being explained in full, it had been made more confusing than it needed to be. After all, it was to be assumed that soulmates were the perfect people for each other but he knew that that wasn't always the case. After all, his grandmother (who he had never properly met) was his grandfather's soulmate and he knew for a fact that they did not get along.

Those two had been rivals as well, an exceedingly rare case of soulmates growing up in the same place. One would think, from an outsider's point of view, that they had to be in love or something like that. But no, no sort of positive feelings were between them.

And, as he kept sending frankly horrible sensations over to whoever was ‘meant’ for him, Blue had the sinking worry that he and his person might not get along either, at least not if he kept it up like this.

When he was eleven, Blue finally left training and headed back to the Kanto region. There, just outside of his home town, he met a boy named Red. At first, because of the strange sense of pulling towards that lodged itself in his gut, Blue thought that this boy might be the one he was linked to. But, when inspecting it a bit closer, he realized that the feeling was one of rivalry rather than the soulmate emotion.

(The one thing he had understood from Professor Oak's brief explanations was that there were two major sorts of ‘connections’ that people felt other than romantic, platonic, and so forth. One was the rivalry type and one was the soulmate type. Sometimes, like with his grandfather, the link was to the same person, but not usually.)

It turned out that this was a ‘not usually’ situation.

Some part of him was disappointed, despite knowing that not all soulmates were really perfect for each other. At least it meant that Red wouldn't hate him for getting hurt all the time if he were to find out about that sort of connection, if it had existed.

So he continued his travels, now someone's rival but not anybody's soulmate, and tried not to think about any of it. He had always been somewhat ‘in tune’ with the senses this link meant, and knew that whoever he was connected to also lived somewhere in Kanto, but he wasn't in tune enough to figure out who they were in any capacity. Because of that, he considered it better to just keep ignoring it all.

He didn't really focus on getting badges, trusting himself to be able to smash through the pre-League brackets easily enough. Instead, he ended up getting involved with the Team Rocket conflicts.

Then, with Green and Red, he took on the Silph Co. base, knowing that it was then or never. But he got separated from Red quickly, and ended up fighting the poison type third of the Team Rocket Triad.

Koga was a hard opponent, but it wouldn't have been as hard as it ended up had Blue been thinking straight. It was just that the smell made it hard to form any sort of coherent plan. Then, as he couldn't think properly, came the Razor Wind.

He would have certainly died if it wasn't for the person on the other end, whoever they were. Because of their ability to live through these incidents of his, or some sort of attachment to Potions- whatever it was- the pair of them were still alive.

But the pain was still overflowing and he could feel the floor under him becoming slick as blood flowed forth. Arceus.

Blue was never fully sure how he managed to make it out of there, what with the amount of blood he had lost and all that, but there was a deep feeling of sorry inside him for putting that on his soulmate. If they didn't hate him by now, they had to be some sort of saint.

By the time of the League, the injury had scarred over, but it wasn't going away like most of the other scars he sustained. He always wore a sweatshirt, sometimes a coat and a sweatshirt, but he took special care to make sure it stayed down. No one needed to see what had happened back in Silph Co. as he fought this battle.

And, in the end, Red won.

For almost two years, he trained, now with a failed League and at least a few near-death experiences under his belt. If he didn't get better, he was going to keep getting hurt and if he kept getting hurt, whoever he was linked to was going to hate him even more.

Then, Red disappeared and, after a few months, Blue felt something.

There were two reasons he had been drawn away from his searching to this specific spot. For one, he had heard something about Red and, just like Green, was looking for him. For another, there had been some sort of itch in his gut to find someone, someone that wasn't Red. It was the same sort of thing he had heard Green describe, but had never felt himself. And then, on his way to the location, there was a sharp smacking feeling against his abdomen and all the air was knocked from his lungs.

What was that?!

And, oh *, there was something broken too.

Over the years, he had generally managed to keep away from broken bones. It was his bones, in particular, he supposed- not his soulmates. They were just strong enough to withstand certain abuse, but now that it was someone else’s broken bones…

This was the first injury (other than the occasional bump and bruise) that had been sent his way from the person on the other end of their link, and it certainly took him off guard. Gasping as he clutched for Charizard's neck, Blue tried not to fall from his pokemon's back.

Arceus, what had just happened?

—

After realizing what the man disguised as Red was doing, she realized that her strategy would have to include getting hit. So she returned her pokemon (in order for them to be out of the way) and tried to stand firm as the bone hurtled towards her. Both went into the pokeballs attached to her fishing line.

As long as everything went right, the Bonemerang would be wrapped in the line, and it would bring her pokemon close enough to battle. Hopefully, that would give Pika the opening to attack- to drain the Supernerd’s invincibility, but only time would tell for that strategy.

And it seemed that time slowed as the weapon came her way.

Oh Arceus. Even if she wanted to dodge out of the way, she couldn’t- too frozen in sudden fear. Please forgive me, she thought, despite how her soulmate had sent so much pain in her direction. Even after all that, she didn’t want whoever they were to feel pain. They had been through enough already.

And then the bone caught her in the stomach, sending her flying backwards and knocking all the breath from her body. Not only that, but there was a sort of sickening crunch- that must have been her ribs.

Before she even hit the ground, her mind was already spinning from the energy required to heal this wound. But no- no! She had to stay alert, she had to get Red’s pokemon back. That was the mission right now, and she couldn’t stray away from it.

She could hear the Supernerd laughing and commending his pokemon as she smacked into the ground. The Bonemerang spiraled back towards the trainer and pokemon duo, the pair thinking that she was defeated.

But in truth, she was not defeated- just in massive amounts of pain. In fact, as her pokemon burst from their pokeballs to attack the Supernerd and his Marowack, Yellow slipped once more into darkness. The Viridian power combined with the pain was too much, and as her consciousness ebbed away, she just barely saw Erikia and a few other people she barely recognized appear to take over the battle.

When Yellow eventually came to, her ribs were no longer broken, but still definitely bruised. She had been brought out of her unconsciousness before she had finished healing, and her head was still spinning, but once her eyes adjusted to the strange darkness filling the space, she knew she could not go back to being passed out.

There, floating thirty feet in the air, was the Supernerd’s limp body. Around him, purple and black fog wafted, seeming to seep into his body as he shook in the air- animated without his own control. It was grotesque.

Yellow managed to look up at the woman who stood over her, an older teen with bright red hair tied in a side ponytail and a strapless bikini top. Yellow could have sworn she’d seen this woman somewhere before. “Who…” Yellow managed, “Who are you?”

Her throat felt dry as she looked back up at the floating, animated corpse of the man who had attacked them. He was writhing, groaning and shaking as the mist solidified into smog, then dissipated again in a cycle. The sight was so horrifyingly revolting that Yellow felt in danger of vomiting as she tried to get her spinning thoughts in order, ribs still aching, “What’s happening to him?”

The woman looked back up at the Supernerd, hesitated, then reached down to help Yellow, “I’m Misty- a friend of Red’s, and as for what’s happening…”

She trailed off as Yellow struggled to her feet, going into a battle-ready stance, “It seems like someone’s trying to steal away our only recent link to Red,”

“N-no,” Yellow murmured. Her thoughts were still hazy, but if the connection she and that boy could have was not imagined (and even if it was), she needed to find him, “I… I have to help too,”

Misty looked worried as Yellow staggered towards the hovering corpse, “You’re hurt! We can deal with this, I promise!”

With that, she flung a pokeball towards the mist. One of the other assembled trainers did the same. Yellow’s head spun, feeling bile rise in her throat- panic building on itself. The pokemon slashed at the shifting fog, trying to break the hovering man from its invisible grasp.

“Drag him down!” shouted the boy who had sent out the other pokemon. (Yellow thought, distantly, that she might have recognized him. What was his name…? Brock?)

But suddenly, the smog started to grow thicker. The air burst with the scent of sulfur and rot- suddenly damp with something familiar to a rainy funeral. Someone shouted as Yellow staggered forward to get a better look at the shape that was emerging in the growing smog.

It seemed like the pokemon who had been sent in were struggling, and even as her body flared with pain she wanted to see if there was any way to help them.

Then, all of a sudden, the smog blew back and revealed a floating, half-invisible… sphere. Or was it a head? It seemed to have some sort of face.

“It’s a Ghastly!” one of the trainers shouted out, sounding both taken aback and intrigued.

A Ghastly? Yellow’s thoughts spun, looking around. If that was true, the pokemon Misty and Brock (?) had sent out were in trouble, she had to find a way to help them.

“We’ll blow the fog back, that will give us a better shot of pulling the ‘nerd’ down now that we know what it is!” called the same trainer from before, sounding very in charge indeed. “Stand back everyone!”

He threw a pokeball forth, and a very angry looking Growlithe exploded onto the dusty, sulfur-smelling ground. It was directed to use a fire attack, but Yellow’s eyes suddenly caught on a bit of movement in a nearby tree.

A wild pokemon was in danger!

Panic seized her, and Yellow rushed forward, shouting out as pain raced over her still-aching ribs. I’m so sorry, her thoughts spun, thinking of her soulmate, wherever they were.

Ignoring the pain, she quickly attached the pokeball Pika had returned to to the end of her fishing rod, and swung. “Let’s go!” she shouted, “Get it out of there!”

And as the Growlithe’s attack blew the Ghastly away from the Supernerd, Pika tackled the wild pokemon out of the tree and to safety. Easily, Brock’s Graveler caught the unconscious man and pulled him from the sky to solid ground once more. Yellow ignored that, rushing over to Pika and the pokemon it had rescued.

“A Caterpi,” she knelt, reaching out and brushing her fingers down the shaking pokemon’s body. These were native to her home forest, and an attack like the one the Growlithe had sent would surely have killed it. She was glad to have rescued it, though the kneeling now was more of an excuse to continue healing her ribs than anything else.

Her injuries still burned in agonized waves, but her healing powers were steadily fading even the aching pain of her bruises, though she could feel such efforts slowly starting to sap her consciousness as well.

She was brought out of her healing state when the gathered trainers rushed over.

“Good job, Amarillo,” came the gruff voice of the trainer who had directed the Growlithe. Yellow looked up and saw the man smiling down at her, his hand extended for a hand shake, “Or can I call you “Yellow” to make it easier for me?”

Yellow smiled dizzily and nodded, reaching out to shake the man’s hand, “Uh,” she tried, “Who…?”

“I’m Blaine from Cinnabar Gym, it’s very nice to meet you,” the man smiled, though his eyes were still obscured by a pair of thick goggles.

Behind him, the other man who Yellow had identified as Brock smiled too. “I’m Brock from Pewter Gym,” he introduced himself. Yellow nodded to him, trying to smile. (So she had been correct.)

“We’re all good friends of Red’s,” Misty said, stepping forward from behind Brock and patting him on the back.

“But I don’t understand,” Erika’s voice cut in, taking them all away from their introductions. She was staring at the unconscious body of the Supernerd where Brock’s Gravler had set him down. Blaine stopped shaking Yellow’s hand. “Why was the one who tried to steal Pikachu now being kidnapped himself?” Erika murmured, “Could it be possible that someone other than us wanted to question him- or to keep us from doing so?”

“To keep him from talking? Then we’d better hurry and search that suit,” Blaine stepped towards Erika and she turned back to face them, nodding.

“I can go investigate on Mount Moon,” Brock looked very serious all of a sudden, “It’s pretty close to Pewter,”

Now joined back up with their little circle, Erika nodded, “I can rally my forces in case of battle, if anyone really was trying to take this evidence from us,”

Yellow would have thought that referring to a living person as evidence was a little strange if she hadn’t been too distracted by what her eyes caught on behind the row of Gym Leaders. There, in the distance, the Supernerd sat up. She froze, suddenly unable to speak. He shouldn’t have been able to still up, he was too injured.

Luckily, someone else noticed.

“The- the fog!” Misty gasped. The smell of sulfur was returning, and with it the misty darkness of Ghastly’s smog.

The gym leaders whipped around just in time to see the Ghastly emerge from the Supernerd. Yellow felt dizzy. Was this what she was getting herself into by looking for Red? By trying to find the boy who might have been her soulmate?

“It was hiding in our captive!” Blaine gasped out as the fog spread.

Brock stumbled backward, “It’s spreading too fast!” he shouted the obvious.

Something incomprehensible left Misty’s lips as she too stumbled, trying to direct her pokemon to attack, but Brock was right- it was too strong, especially at close range.

Yellow felt dizzy as she tried to back up, ushering the Caterpi and Pika. Being too close to a Ghastly was dangerous, they could sometimes suck the soul right out of the people who breathed in their fog, or enter their victims bodies- just as this one had with the Supernerd. They had to get back, try to attack from far away.

Then, she felt a strange pulling sensation in her gut. Someone else was here. Someone important.

Could it be Red?

Yellow looked up, squinting through the thickening smog, just as a voice called down. It was a boy’s voice, loud and commanding and angry- not like Red. But Yellow could have sworn she had heard that voice somewhere else before.

“It’s a pokemon made of mist!” the voice shouted, sounding more frustrated than anything else, like the voice’s owner found the Gym Leaders’ attempts to attack the ghost-type childish, “You have to attack its core!”

Something flew through the air, brushed just a few inches by the animated body floating in front of the Ghastly’s disembodied head, and stabbed right through the center point of the ghost-type’s body with an empty, thick noise. Not unlike bursting a bag of flour, the Ghastly exploded.

Yellow’s head spun. The pulling feeling in her gut grew stronger and stronger, and the aching in her ribs exploded once more. What was going on?

“What-?” Brock whipped around in shock as the Ghastly’s remains crashed to the ground, the fog all around them was dissipating into thin air and leaving things clear enough to see again. The other Gym Leaders, too, reacted similarly.

“Rather than trying to blow away the fog or cut through it,” the voice called down, and Yellow’s eyes caught on two moving shapes perched on top of a nearby building, “You attack the source of its power- head off any second attacks,”

The teen who stood atop the building stepped into the light, and Brock let out a hacking gasp. Misty laughed, sounding very surprised. But their reactions were unheard to Yellow as her eyes widened. It was the boy Red had fought in the final round of the League, with his massive Charizard standing just a few feet behind him. There was a buzzing sound in her ears, the pulling sensation in her gut so strong it was almost painful.

“Blue!” shouted Blaine, sounding very shocked indeed, and the trainer smirked.

Catching that expression on his face, and now knowing his name, the pain in Yellow’s ribs seemed to double.

Blue.

That was his name.

….Why did that seem so important to her all of a sudden?

(1920 words not counting the underlined stuff.)

War Update - Question of the day! (190 words, 2⎚)
➵ QOTD: What was your first session of SWC like? If this is your first session, how has it been going so far?

My first Scratch Writing Camp was, I believe, in 2021. I had learned about it from a Scratch friend of mine (who has since left the website) and quickly joined. I ended up in the Sci-fi cabin, and that was when I fell in love with the lore aspects of Scratch Writing Camp. I'm not sure how they did it, but that cabin was incredibly plot centered in even just the daily activities.

I loved talking to my cabin-mates and writing, and once word-wars and cabin-wars came along, I realized just how much fun it was to push and see how much I could possibly write. I think I even surprised myself, and logging it all means that I can look back and see what I did that fateful month, even if the Cabin itself is gone.

Last Scratch Writing Camp (in November), I was in the Fairytale cabin. That month, I hit 100k words, participated in the lore, and still managed to get a helpful amount of sleep. It was all because of that first SWC, however, that this was possible. And for that I am forever grateful. <3

Goodnight <3 (1⎚)

2045+190

Daily 5: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily), 1⎚(Bed Before 11PM) (217 words, 6⎚ for today.)( (4725 words, 28⎚ in total so far.)

Cabin Daily: Smoothie (217 words, 5⎚)
Daily: Quick, look to your left! The first object you see will be the topic of your daily. Imagine what would happen if you put it into a smoothie—what would it look like? What strange powers would it give you? Write 200 words to earn 200 points, and share your smoothie in the comments for an additional 50 points.

A half-complete sketchbook sits next to the fruit and yogurt, waiting patiently for a turn in the blender. If it were a regular sketchbook, true and fully reality, it would not be blended easily by a simple kitchen appliance, and surely would not end up being incorporated into the food properly even if it managed to be blended, but here sat a different sort of sketchbook.

It wasn't real, not like the food it sat between. It would behave differently and it would not taste like old paper and chemicals,.

So once it was pushed into the blender after the bananas and strawberries, it too was easily blended into the mixture waiting. Quickly, the smoothie changed colors. First, it was bright green like the cover of the sketchbook, then orange, then red, then yellow… and so forth. On it went, shifting through the colors as different scents filled the air, only to be replaced by another scent until the air was as steadily changing as the drink itself.

The blending was stopped once this began. After all, the power of the sketchbook had already been incorporated into the drink! Now, it would change between every possibility of smoothie type that could have been drawn on those pages, and the creator was very excited to try it out.

Day 6: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily) (2109 words, 5⎚ for today.)
(6834 words, 33⎚ in total so far.)

Cabin Daily: Write a song (730 words, 5⎚)
For many authors, listening to their favourite songs is an important part of the creative writing process. But have you ever tried to write your very own song? If the answer is no, then there’s never been a better time to start! And since this is a bi-daily, you’ll have two days to complete the following task.

Begin by reading this workshop on songwriting by daily team member and songwriter @-Alocasia: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/post/6722906 . Then, in at least 300 words, write the lyrics to your very own original song (including chorus repeats). You will receive 400 points for confirming you did the bi-daily, with an extra 100 points up for grabs if you share your writing!

PKMN RAP CYPHER: Red vs Blue vs Green vs Yellow vs Ash

Red: Huh, I wonder what pressing this button with do.
Red: It probably won't cause any problems, or set free any pokemon, so maybe I can just-
Prof. Oak: HEY! Stop!
Prof. Oak: Just what do you think you're doing??? And who are you anyway?!

—Red:
*spoken* Oh, me?
You don't know who I am?
Well,
that's easy!

*rap* I'm-

Spinning the pokeball on my finger
and I'm here in the moment to win them all!
Try and challenge me and I'll make you whimper,
even your first turn will start at a crawl!

I'm better, you're lesser
I'm taller, you're smaller
You're stronger? No longer!
Because I'm fighting you b-b… b-
back!

Blue tried to beat me in our league,
sucks for him now I think before I move!
I guess that's why I'm always in the lead,
why I'm the first and everybody approves!

Fan-favorite boy since 1997
I'll get you before you can even blink
I'll laugh through my fire-red leaf-green depression.
Too bad you'll just have to sink!

I guess it's just that I'm…

-bigger! You're triggered?
I'm smoother, you loser.
And I'm first, you're the worst,
So, no,
You can't beat The Fighter!!

—Blue
*spoken* You know, that's nice and all, but…

*rap* Luck will only get you so far,
when you're faced up against a well-taught Trainer!

So alright, little world-class complainer,
let's see what you can do still stuck in Pallet.

Went to Cianwood before my rival could even battle
Rolled through Brock too, before Red even knew

what a Gym battle was!
So how could he ever
say he's the first?
How could he ever
think he's not the worst?

*spoken* I don't take well to liars.

*rap* And he lied to Yellow when he said he'd help her.
Good, then, that I'm a better Trainer!

I guess I'll bury him under my fame,
'cause grass doesn't do so well under flame.

Masking my rage before I engage.
Who needs emotion, when it's all just commotion?
To distract me from being the best I can be,
following in my family's footsteps,
*spoken* you see,
*rap* I'm not just ‘the best’,
but greater you combined three!

Future Top-Professor and Gym-Leader too,
so, your life-long savings will be my
minimum wage.

—Green
(Heh. That was cute~)
*called* Oh boys~!
*cruelly* Look over here!

I think
it's time
we
get a
*rap* woman on the stage!
Tryta break out from my cage,
draggin'ya down to behave!
I'll be trippin' up these guys like I'm legal age! (Hey!)
Me? Loose to you?
Not without your badges~

You can't steal this win from the first ever thief,
how ‘bout you lose to me so I can give you some grief~
And don’t be fooled, I was around before Leaf.

Spitting and hitting like a Hydro Cannon
Me being weak? Well, that's just fanon
you don't even know about all of my planning'

'Cause I'm cute and stylish like you're Sabrina
and I'm fast and sneaky like a dona prima,
this win will evade you like Ash to Serena!

Oh?
Do you want it?
Do you really really want it?
Ha, that's too bad,
I bet you're so sad,
that I got your badges and I got your granddad~! (ha ha!)

—Yellow
*spoken* What are you guys yelling about?

*rap* I might be small
I'm not all that tall
but I'll answer your call
and I'll make Lance fall!

I was taught by Blue
and for Green I'll pursue
whatever took Red out of our view-
'cause I've got a series to renew!

You can say words back and forth with no meaning
but for an artist those things are just like dreaming
step a little closer and I'll zap you steaming
'cause waters' weak to electric
(yes, I meant to be demeaning)
and “shock plus fry” ‘s just my aesthetic
and nothing’s creative without a little scheming.

I'm the amalgamation of all of your good
with a little help from Viridian's magical wood.
An original character and misunderstood
'cause I'll be nice to you,
just like you think I should,
but then I'll just run you through
just because I could.

No one expects a little girl from the forest
to fight these villains, the most abhorrent
and win within the volcano's burning torrent! (But I did!)
So it doesn't matter if I leave
or leave the series discordant,
I'm still the best, I believe
and you can't stand even this little torment.

*spoken* Plus,
what'll you do without your medic?

*this is not quite done yet! I'll edit it and post the final version tomorrow.
(730 Words, without the “spoken” or their names.)

Editing some old Wh!tober fics. (Around 254 words? Hard to say exactly.)

I can't provide proof because it's ~violent~. I'm so sorry. : (

Really wish I could but it's just not realistic.

Edited some Miraculous Ladybug fanfic (About 329 words. Again, hard to say.)

I'm not going to provide proof because the editing was so scattered that it wouldn't be worth it, but it's for a Hetalia x Miraculous crossover I've been ignoring for a few years. </3

We both wanna go on forever - Pokespe/Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, Blue Oak angst, Chuck bashing, fight scene but not too graphic, PART 1 of a oneshot. (796 words.)

Blue was usually very good at dealing with pain.

He supposed that, in a way, it came naturally to him.

No matter what he seemed to do, the world was still dangerous, his training was still torturous, and, being in the front lines as a person who was destined to be a top-tier trainer in multiple regards, he always seemed to be directly taking the brunt of this violence.

That always brought pain his way. And that was usually alright, at least bearable enough for him to push through it, but not this time.

Blue yelped weakly as he was thrown once more at the floor. He had given up on being stoic long ago, now that his head was spinning and bruises were spotted all over his body. Now that blood was trickling from a broken nose, and a twisted ankle threatened snapping further. No. Instead of holding it back, Blue let the pathetic sound escape him as he tried to roll out of the way, scrabbling for purchase against the rocky ground.

It was exactly what Chuck was trying to get him to stop doing, but Blue could hardly breathe- let alone think rationally. Chuck wouldn’t go easy on him even if he did everything perfectly, and right now he was just barely managing to stay conscious.

He tried to tell himself that this was what he needed, or that it was somehow deserved, but somehow the thoughts didn’t come through as truth.

As the Hitmonchan’s kicking foot collided with his ribs, Blue whimpered and crashed back down from the half-standing position he had managed to acquire.

He had to get to his feet. He had to run, had to get out of here, but when he went to stand he fumbled. Chuck didn’t wait for him to get to his feet, only directed another attack.

The Hitmonchan kicked him again, and this time the move hit him square in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him as well as sending him rolling. He couldn’t have shouted even if he’d tried, but the dry noise of air being forcibly expressed from his body came through as a good enough substitute.

He could hear Chuck pressuring him to get up in the background, to fight back.

How he was supposed to fight back was beyond Blue. After all, he hadn’t even been given his sword this time- just been told to fight the darned thing.

And now that the injuries were layering over old ones, and his bruises and bloody nose fought any sort of rational thinking he could have had left, Blue felt suddenly overwhelmed by the undeniable urge to cry. Even if he had given up being completely stoic, the urge still sent an undeniable wave of panic through him.

No, not now- not here!

He couldn’t cry, not in front of Chuck.

With the surge of panic, Blue managed to evade the next kick from the pokemon and sprang to his feet. However, it was messy and he stumbled backward, almost losing his footing on the rolling pebbles that were scattered around the battle area. Now that he was up, he had to be careful to avoid Hitmonchan’s truly dangerous movies- the punches.

The kicks were incredibly painful, could easily break bones, but one hit from one of that thing’s fists and he would be out cold. Chuck usually restarted training sessions if he ever passed out or got knocked unconscious.

Blue just barely managed to avoid one punch by jumping backwards, then the second punch missed the top of his head by a hair as he ducked. His body ached in the fast movement, feeling much like he was still being kicked as he scrambled uselessly on the ground. When would Chuck be satisfied with his performance? When would this be over?

It wasn’t like he could knock out the pokemon.

He panted as he dove to evade another attack, rolling under the creature to dodge out of the way. And at first, it seemed like it was going really well. Then, things went south.

Halfway through the dodge, pain exploded across Blue’s abdomen. Somewhere deep inside his body, something had twisted. He cried out, and the roll stuttered to a halt too close to the pokemon, flopping back as his vision flashed white in agony. Whatever it was, it hurt. Something had probably been knocked out of alignment when he was getting kicked, and crunching up like that was not doing wonders in making it hurt less.
He was so dazed by the pain that, as the Hitmonchan’s foot stomped down at his head, Blue hardly even had time to register what was happening before the connection was made.

There was a shot of pain, and everything went black.

Day 7: 10⎚ (Weekly), 5⎚ (Win a Word War), 2⎚ (War Update), 10⎚ (Cabin Wars) (4012 words, 27⎚ for today.)
(10846 words, 60⎚ in total so far.)

Weekly: (2264 words, 10⎚)
https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/topic/695082/?page=1#post-7352794

Part one: literal silent comic
I used these three as my panels: https://www.onceuponapicture.co.uk/portfolio_page/making-a-star/ https://www.onceuponapicture.co.uk/portfolio_page/star-catcher/ https://www.onceuponapicture.co.uk/portfolio_page/star-kite/

The Star Maker's occupation is very important. In fact, it's one of the most important jobs for Space Walkers like himself.

As his name suggests, he creates the stars- the ones that fall, the ones that his people use. Such things can power machines, heat homes, tame the dark beasts of space, and provide transportation for the young ones who have not learned to Walk yet. The last point is really the reason he does it, because he remembers a time before traveling was easy for him, and it is something he hopes to help the young ones through.

Mainly, he thinks of his granddaughter.

Born of dust and stone, the Space Walkers are powerful beings as they age, this being the reason he can carve these stars from space and energy. Still, when they are young, the powers do not come easily. They are born stranded in darkness, perhaps regular light years away from others like them.

There are missions that go about and collect these children so they may learn how to Walk.

A long time ago, the Star Maker met a girl on one such mission. A girl who had no name, and who had been stranded in the darkness longer than most.

She was barely a thread of consciousness back then, but with the help of some dust and some of his own energy, the Star Maker was able to nurse her back to health. He supposed it was from then on that she became his granddaughter.

At this moment, she was practicing her Walking somewhere in the depths below (or above?) him, and had been for the last fifty or so years (not all that long in his people's lifetimes). He knew she would need to be picked up soon, and the star he was making right then was intended specifically for her. Somewhere within himself, he felt her pulling need.

—

The Girl With No Name stared into the inky blackness around her.

For the past few months she had been stranded, struggling against the weight of the nothingness that surrounded her on all sides- squinting into the darkness to try and make out any nearby stars. It was all she could manage to keep her physically form at this point, clutching onto the staff she had been given by the search and rescue team all that time ago. Her hair flowed out around her, solidifying into a sort of physical space on which she could sit, but could not walk.

She was willing her grandfather to hear her pleas, to send a star her way.

For a while, she was worried he had not heard her, but she was struggling to muster the energy to send anything else to him. She tried not to panic, even though she didn't want to fade back into thought, she knew keeping her head out here was the best plan.

But then, as her sanity began to fray, she spotted glowing spots in the distance. She squinted, and with the effort to look so far, her arm began to dissolve into the blackness. Was that what she thought they were?

And as they came closer, she realized she was right. They were stars! Her grandfather had heard her after all!

Hurriedly, slipping half-through her standing space, The Girl With No Name fumbled with her staff, willing it to become its fishing net form. As the stars moved closer, she reached the staff up. If she could catch one, she could harness its power- and by harnessing its power, she could make it back home. (Boy did she want to go back home.)

Soon enough, the stars reacted to the little gravity she managed to pull, and began to fall.

They sunk into the physical mass she was still maintaining, taking on the darkness around her and slowly loosing their light. The losses were alright, as long as she managed to snag one. So, she continued to fish, feeling just a little stronger from only the presence of the stars.

Within a few days (a few moments in her interpretation of time), the girl managed to snag one.

Immediately, she felt a surge of power up the arm which had fused into the staff, and as the star was absorbed, The Girl With No Name got to her feet. It was one of the last that had fallen, and as she watched, the stars half-faded into the dark, solid space below her began to glow once more. Confidence surged in her chest, and around her the solidness began to form properly. Invisibly, and properly.

Profoundly, the stars half caught in the darkness began to grow around her. They were stuck in the physical space which she had created, the girl realized, they were helping to power her as well.

A smile lit her face, and as she looked down at her now-glowing arms, she felt solid. Truely solid and growing brighter and brighter by the second just like the star she had absorbed.

The physical space around her began to spread, and the fallen stars glowed brightly.

Willing her staff to change shape once more, The Girl With No Name pressed her feet hard against the space below her, letting the energy of the half-trapped stars thrum up through her feet. Her staff once again shifted form, this time into a kite of sorts. She willed it to float up through space, hanging on tightly to the string.

This would guide her, just as her grandfather had taught, and soon she would be home.

She needed to thank him, anyway.

(931 words.)

Part two: symbolism

Sweet, Just Like You (With A Little More In It, Too) - Pokemon Anime/Pokeani/Anipoke, Amourshipping, Ash x Serena, Serena centric, fluff, baking.
To Serena, Pokepuffs were significant.

They were sweet, good for pokemon, and took a lot of effort and training to make- meaning that it was a skill he had always thought was worth mastering. They also had close ties to her region's culture, and near enough to a national dish as any other in the region. They were mainly important in the Performance sphere, too, and that was where she excelled.

So when Serena made a Pokepuff, she didn't just do it because she could.

Each and every one she had ever baked had a story, at least in her own mind. When she was younger, they all told similar tales- a girl who didn't want to be a Rhyhorn Racer; a girl who finally broke free of her mother's ideas for her future; a girl who believed her pokemon could be just as beautiful as the Performance champions of the worth. In Performances, they were tales of success and hope, with the wish that telling these stories might bring her properly to the win.

And the one she was making now… this one had a special story.

It was about a boy she had once thought of as only a friend. It was about a boy who was so capable and so strong, yet so silly and so endearingly dumb at the same time. It was about a boy who she felt had made her not only a better trainer or a better Performer, but a better person over the course of their travels together. It was a story of love and friendship and the inherent romance in the companionship they had built together alongside Clemont and Bonnie. It represented the region he had traveled with her, and the culture he had accepted so easily even if he hadn't grown up with it.

It was about Ash.

There were Pokepuffs for Bonnie and Clemont, too, but their stories weren't nearly as fleshed-out. Bonnie's was bright and tangy like her bubbling, always moving personality. Clemont's had been a bit tricky, with a distinct metal taste only found in over-ripe Babiri berries that she hoped with ‘conduct’ well with his electric-based team. Still, these were nothing in comparison to the thought she had put into Ash's.

She had chosen both sweet and spicy flavors to be represented by the berries used in Ash's. The sweetness showed both her loving feelings and the side of Ash that had made her start to fall for him in the first place. The spice represented the fire in his eyes she respected so much: his inherent need to battle. Together, the flavors were hard to mix, especially in a desert, but for him she would do whatever she could to make things perfect. It was the least she could do, after all.

And as Serena finally finished platting the deserts, her heart fluttered in her chest.

On the other side of the little stream they had decided to camp by, her friends sat. Ash sat. Even if they didn't know it, these treats had a story- and both the friendly and romantic sides of her were beyond ready to ‘read’ them exactly what they meant to her.

(532 words.)

Part three: motif

Lamppost - Narnia/The Chronicles Of Narnia, Lucy centric, ficlet.
No matter how many times Lucy returned to Narina, the Lamppost was always what she saw first.

It didn't matter how many hundreds of years had passed since she had last entered that doorway, or how many bushes and trees and shrubs had grown up to hide the post itself from view. No matter what nature tried to do, no matter what was thrown the way of that stubborn, stubborn light, it just would not stop burning.

Lucy supposed it as a beacon, a clear sign to the way back home and a clear sign that, no matter what happened, there would always be the light of the old mixed in with the new.

To her, it was safety and calm, gathered serenity. Even if it was buried under rubble from time to time, or stood in the middle of battles and races and hunting for sport. It still stood, patient and tall under all of the torture. If Lucy wanted to be compared to any physical object, it would have been that physical object. Somehow, she respected it.

That first, fateful day, she had fallen through the mess of fur coats into this other world, Lucy had spotted the lamppost. Ever since then, it had meant the same thing to her as the very first moment her eyes fell on it. The shock and delight of a new discovery, the inherent intrigue of hard-work and modern appliances in a wild, natural setting. The bizarre and the strange, and everything she loved about Narnia.

Even as she grew older and her visits to Narnia grew less and less frequent, Lucy still thought back to that lamppost as what had started it all. No wardrobe could compare, not even a magical one that had been the real cause of her transportation into the other land. No bond with her siblings, no game of hide and seek could possibly show the same amount of wonder (even if they were able to rival it in love).

She hoped that everyone had their lamppost. That everyone searched for it.

She hoped that, as long as she lived, it would still stand in that clearing- among the trees or animals or boulders that decided to surround it. It was part of a swiftly changing world, and yet it stood firm.

Was it just because it meant what it did to her?

Deep down, Lucy hoped so.

(401 words.)

Part four: rewrite

The stars were dreams, really. That was why they were made in the first place. That was the reason they held power, because they weren't just batteries or something of that sort. They were hope and the deep thoughts that minds came up with out of the blank nothingness of rest.

So as she sat in the blackness, looking up at the sky, she fished for dreams. Not just for energy, not just for a pathway home or transportation, but for the dream of making it back home. For the dream of being able to speak with those she loved once more, and for the comfort of being surrounded by the people who had fished her up out of the darkness of the void.

And as she stood atop those same specks of light- now bulbous and burning comfortably hot under her feet, she sailed a kite in a sea of dreams. She sailed home, in that way, with the harnessed power of what she believed could and should happen, deep within her soul. Not what she thought was logical, or what even made sense in her own lifetime.

In that way, the night sky represented the mysteries and wonder of those semi-conscious thoughts to many more than just those who could Walk. It was just that only those who had been born of that old stardust know how to harness that power directly, at least once they had been taught.

But everyone had access to the stars that The Girl With No Name's grandfather carved, in the deep recesses of their minds. Even those who could never hope to comprehend those who could Walk across what they believed to be emptiness, devoid of solid and matter and devoid of logic, even they could dream.

And that, in a way, way far more important than what they could be used for by those would could directly harness the stars' power. Because it showed a connection, a link between the two that would have otherwise been invisible- or otherwise completely missing. They were not the same, and they never would be, but the stars were the burning hope of one mass of people, and the fuel of another.

Perhaps the light from which they were crafted was really created by those ‘lesser’ beings who could not Walk, manifested through thousands of years of dreaming and hoping and wishing upon the stars.

(400 words.)
….I'm not quite sure I did any of that right but it was really fun!!

Word War with @bewildered- (403 words, 5⎚)
The prompt was “the walls speak suspicious words” and I decided to write about a Rocket AU me and my sister @savebats have! : D

Red felt the vomit begin to leave his mouth before he tasted it, so disgusted was he by the cruelty of this situation.

It wasn't fair.

Why did things have to be like this? Why was he always in the way?

Red tried not to get more sick right then and there but as he stared in front of him, at the scene that had laid out (all bloody and bruised and full of pain that he could hardly even describe), he wasn't doing well. This wasn't good. This was one of the worst battles they had had recently, certainly worse than the ones from a few months before.

He didn't know why Team Rocket had decided to ramp up their grunts, or their training, or focus more on violence than winning, but it was hurting both him and his team. Both his friends and the family he had grown, and for once, he didn't know how to fight it.

It felt like too much.

It felt like way too much.

Like, if he was a child still dealing with this, he wouldn't even have been able to.

That was how bad it was.

That was how horrible this all felt to him, and how disgusting all these actions were.

He felt sick.

The vomit spilt over his lips, spilling down to the ground like a disgusting wave of all the hate and pain and fear that had been boiling inside him for so long.

He hated it here. He wanted to leave, wanted to never come back.

He had to get out of here.

And this panic wasn't helping. It wasn't helping him focus, it wasn't helping him win, it certainly wasn't helping him feel better- but looking at all that violence, had didn't have a clue what any better option might be.

How could he see that and think that things were alright? How could he see that and think he had done enough? That they all had done enough? Because, as his eyes traced the scrapes and scares and burns across the field, Red knew that they hadn't done enough.

Not in any way, shape or form. And he was disgusted by it.

There were people they had to protect, and here he was- throwing up onto blood splattered stones as if he had time to care for himself or anything more than ending the battle he had already begun.

List of Names - Miraculous Ladybug, Lila bashing, secret identity trouble, Marinette centric. Low quality word-sprint-oneshot!* (1233 words.)
Prompt Used: “Half the names on the list had been crossed off” (from Squibbler/The Most Dangerous Writing App)

When the girl said she was serious about finding out the identities of Paris' superheros, Marinette did not think that she was as serious as she was. Really, she thought it was just another one of Lila's lies at first. But then, as the days went by, it became clear just how serious the girl was.

Her Marinette sat, trying not to panic as Lila loudly walked about the room, showing off the list she had made and explaining it to anyone who would listen.

“I know for a fact that Ladybug is in this class,” Lila was saying, “Because she's my friend and she told me! A really good hint, if you ask me,”

Marinette stared down at the desk in front of her, trying not to jump out of her seat and start shouting at Lila. The only reason she knew that Ladybug's civilian identity went to this school was because of a slip-up with her transformation, although it had luckily been timed exactly right so that Lila didn't quite see who she was as she hurried back into the classroom.

Marinette was still kicking herself over that one, but she didn't know what to do exactly against it. It wasn't like she could just stand up and tell Lila that what she was doing was making the real Ladybug very uncomfortable, but she still wanted to do it.

Plus. Why, even if she was Lila's friend as Ladybug, would she ever want the girl to go about trying to figure out her identity?

But Lila went on, explaining happily to Rose and Juleka, who looked very uncomfortable indeed, “She wants me to know her identity, but there's something about not being able to tell me directly, so she's made it a sort of game for me! Isn't she soooo sweet?”

Marinette had to bite her lip to keep from gagging.

Her, being sweet to Lila? Please.

Rose murmured something along the lines of, ‘yeah! wow, that’s really sweet of her' and Lila laughed. It was the high-pitched laugh that Marinette had always hated so much, and just hearing it was enough to make her feel like giving up right then and there and telling the liar to stop talking.

“I have a list,” Lila purred, happily, “With everyone's names one it,”

Marinette stiffened. For some reason, it felt like Lila's eyes were boring a hole directly through the back of her head. Marinette was trying not to make eye contact right now, but the feeling of that look behind her was enough to make her freeze.

“Since Ladybug is one of us, all I have to do is check off the names until I come to the right person!” Lila sounded way too excited with this plan. Marinette's heart beat hard in her chest. As Ladybug, this plan was horrifying- mortifying even. And as Marinette, she was scared too.

Knowing that there was a way LIla could figure out her secret identity was almost too much for Marinette to handle- and she was usually very good at keeping here head in bad situations. Just the thought of Lila knowing who she was, where she lived, when she was available and when she was not- it wasn't a good one.

“So far,” Lila was saying, her voice loud and obnoxious and somehow the scariest thing Marinette had heard all day, “I've checked off some people- the boys mostly, but I haven't gotten through everyone,”

Marinette stared down at the desk. Oh how she wished Alya was here right now. That girl would shut this whole thing down, probably convince the class that Lila had simply been mistaken, and they could move on. But she wasn't here, and Marinette was alone in this space. She felt like she had no allies to lean on, absolutely no one to support her.

Her head spun with terror, panic threatening to sweep her off her feet. (And she was still angry, too, of course.)

But then, a person she did not expect to speak up suddenly stood up from their desk.

“Stop it, Lila,” Adrien's voice was low and incredibly serious.

Marinette looked back at him in surprise. Usually she would have thought he might enjoy a conversation like this. After all, she had just learned recently that he had a massive crush on Ladybug (yes, that thought was still running around her head and doing little dances).

Marinette looked back at Lila, following Adrien's (surprisingly furious) stare.

She looked momentarily surprised, “What?”

“Stop it,” he said, forcefully, “Ladybug wouldn't want you sharing her secret identity, even if you were her friend,”

There was a brief flash of darkness in Lila's eyes, then it was covered up by fake worry and betray once more, “But… but Adriekins,” she tried, but she was cut off again as Adrien shook his head angrily.

“You doing even know for sure that she's really in this class,” Adrien accused, “You just want to know if any of have any clues- you aren't even friends with her,”

Lila tried to look sad and hurt by this, but the people around her were also looking just as surprised and relieved as Marinette felt. She wasn't going to get any pity from them.

“Honestly,” Chloe yawned from the front row, “I'm tired hearing you yap about Ladybug, you've hardly even spoken to her,”

Lila narrowed her eyes at Chloe, and opened her mouth to say something, but then Chloe waved her hand.

“Don't even start,” she said, “I'm a superhero and you will never be,”

Even if it wasn't exactly true, the fact that Chloe was stepping up to protect her made her feel a little better. Even her once worst enemy was able to see through Lila's lies, and was now seeing to shutting them down. Especially the identity related ones. (After all, Chloe knew very well that Ladybug took her and the other heroes' identities very seriously.)

“Thanks, Chloe,” Adrien nodded down at his childhood friend, beaming with a pride-filled joy that made Marinette frankly a little giddy.

Then, she decided to step up too.

“Yeah,” she tried to bury all her fears from before, “You don't even know for sure if Ladybug's actually in this class- just that she transformed in the school,”

Lila started to say something, but Adrien (beaming down at Marinette too), cut in. “Yeah, and there could have been any reason why she did that!”

Next to Lila, Rose nodded.

Then, she did the truly unexpected. Rose reached out and snagged the paper from Lila's loose grip. The second girl let out a yelp of surprise as Rose tore the sheet in half.

“Oops,” Rose pretended to look surprised.

Lila looked furious, first glaring at Rose and then whipping about to look at the rest of the classmates that surrounded her. But, this time, no one came to her aid. (Marinette was suddenly rather glad she had made it so apparent to each and every of her part-time superheroes how important their secret identities were.)

Then, seeing that she was not going to win this battle, Lila turned and raced towards the door- putting on her best pity-me face in the process. She was probably going to go cry to a teacher, but what did Marinette care? She could deal with another akumatized Lila, and keep her secret identity a secret at the same time.

*essentially just three 5 minute word sprints with breaks in between, which is why it's not exactly high quality. Maybe one day I'll re-write this.

War Update: QOTD (112 words, 2⎚)
➵ QOTD: Choose one animal that describes you <3

I think out of all animals, I would most enjoy being a bird, but just because I would most enjoy that doesn't mean it best describes me.

Really, I think the best possible description of me by a species of animal would be a domesticated cat. Specifically one of the ones with long, tangled fur and missing half of its claws. (And I'm not just saying this because I like cats, I promise.)

I think such an animal just holds a lot of similarities to me, especially with the knowledge that I might be allergic to them. : ) After all, I feel it is human nature to feel a little repelled by oneself.

112+1233+403+2264

Day 8: 10⎚ (Cabin Wars), 5⎚ (Cabin Daily) (1142 words, 15⎚ for today.)
(11988 words, 75⎚ in total so far.)

True Rivals - Pokeani/Pokemon Anime/Anipoke, Ash centric, unfinished, light angst, he's thinking about the people he left behind.
(Cabin Wars/FIfty Headed Hydra Attempt/Cabin Daily- which is Cabin Wars) (361 words)

Ash realized that he wasn't the right fit to be a pokemon trainer in the regard he had always imagined when his first, true Rival left. Sure, he had gone through a few temporary or pseudo rivals here and there (Richie, for example, although he was a Protagonist like like Ash), but having Gary leave really set it in his head what type of trainer he had become.

He had always thought, well. He had always thought that he would be a trainer who was consistent with their rivals, who could battle and battle the same person over again and never attribute that title to anyone else.

But here he stood, staring at the spot Gary had been, and realizing that he wasn't fit to be that type of trainer anyway.

When Misty left Ash realized, too, that things were even more different than he had initially anticipated when Gary decided to end his pokemon journey. Not only were his rivals leaving then, but his Walking Partners, too.

At least Brock stuck around, and May and Max weren't so bad after all.

But then, a few regions later, Brock decided that he was done traveling too and, this time (unlike back with she who will not be named), it seemed really, truly final.

So he ended up in Unova with no one he knew, no trainers to directly call his main Rivals (as Paul had left him following their final League battle), and no Walking Partners. It was lonely, and he didn't quite know how to feel about the whole situation.

This was the only time during his travels thus far that, outside of being sad about loosing battles, Ash honestly thought- in private and to himself- that maybe he should quit. It wasn't the same without at least one person who had been around with him at the start of his journey. It wasn't the same without any of his old rivals, who now sat in the back of his mind taught as Trip became his supposed ‘true’ Rival of this years' journeying.

It was so different.

And Ash was usually good with change, but he felt like a traitor.

aaaa - Pokeani/Pokemon Anime/Anipoke + Pokespe/Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, Ash centric + Red centric, Drabble, Background Specialshipping (Yellow x Red), age things in PKMN are weird… let's talk about. (789 words.)
Prompt is “He had enjoyed ten years of being totally irresponsible” from Squibbler/The Most Dangerous Writing App

For aspiring pokemon trainers, ten was considered legally an adult.

They were usually mentally secure at that point, at least to the preferred amount in order to send them off into the wild by themselves, if not physically mature. Ash had never thought it was strange, as he like many others in his home town had always imagined himself being a pokemon trainer when he got older.

He had even secured a true Rival for himself before becoming a trainer, although he was lacking in Walking Partners because the other two kids in his age group from the town didn't seem so intent on being part of his and Gary's dynamic. That was alright with Ash, he was just looking forward to being a adult in the eyes of the law so he could begin his travels.

Ash had never realized how many potential side-effects such a consideration of people his age could have, but as his travels went on, things started to feel a little skewed.

—

Red didn't leave town at ten.

Why should he? No one had ever told him about the Gym Leaders or the League, and the only pokeballs he had were begged for from the local shops or fixed up after he found them thrown away. It wasn't like he had the money to buy them, back then.

(These days, he could probably have bought the entirety of Pallet Town if he wanted (though he didn't want to), but in those times it was very different.)

Back then, Red had no family to impress, his mother having passed away when he was young and his father leaving for another leg of his own pokemon journey before Red was even old enough to recognize their family name. So why, if there was no one to impress other than the other children of Pallet, would he have thought of leaving?

But things changed, and Red started his pokemon journey.

It was on this journey that he realized how odd his society's idea of being an adult truly was. Back in Pallet, things hadn't really changed much when he turned ten, but out here… well. He had seen things.

And he was too young, then, to realize how strange it was.

—

Nothing horrible ever happened to Ash in regards to his age, thank Arceus, but he heard stories from the trainers he battled. Horrible things that made him feel gross inside despite not seeing them first-hand. It made him feel very lucky, indeed, that he had run into Misty and wasn't traveling alone.

Because some of those things that his friends and colleagues had gone through…

Frankly, it made him feel sick. Maybe even a little angry with how the pokemon trainer culture decided to treat people who were young, with how there was no inbetween for adults and adults who were children, how there were no consequences. After such realizations, Ash started looking over his shoulder more. Sure, it was paranoid, but if it kept him safe from the horrors that so many he had run into had experienced he would think of it as worth it.

And even once he became World Champion, at last achieving his life-long goal and now in his mid twenties, Ash still had bubbling worries and judgement in the back of his mind.

Sure, he was glad he had gotten the opportunity to begin his pokemon journey at a young age, but now that he was older he was abundantly aware of just how dangerous it all had been. Not just because of the wild animals, not just because of Team Rocket, not just because of all the dangerous battles he'd been in, but dangerous because of the humans he met.

Somehow, even as World Champion, he felt awkward.

Like he couldn't endorse what had gotten him so far.

—

When Red had his daughter, his mind started to change on the whole ‘ten year old adult’ business.

Looking at her in Yellow's arms, seeing her so small and weak, Red realized that the world he and Yellow had born her into was dangerous. He thought back to all the things that had happened to him, all the close calls that he still shivered to remember, and he saw his daughter.

Beautiful and adorable and so so small. Frail. And, Arceus, she looked so much like him.

Things had to change.

If they couldn't have changed for him or for Blue or Green or Gold- or any of his other colleagues who had suffered directly at the hands of their culture's ideas of age, they had to be changed for his daughter. He just couldn't let her grow up in a world like that.

But he didn't know where to start.

361+781

Day 9: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily), 1⎚ (bed before 11PM) (1895 words, 6⎚ today.)
(13883 words, 81⎚ in total so far.)

Cabin Daily: Sleep (438 words, 5⎚)
How many hours did you sleep the night before this daily was added? Today, our daily will have a bit of a twist—you must write 1200 words about your various characters’ sleep habits and the effects they have on them, but for every hour that you slept last night, you can subtract 100 words from the total (caps at ten hours for 200 words). For example, if you slept for nine hours, you'll only have to write 300 words. You'll earn 400 points from this daily.

Weird Way Of Sleeping - Pokespe/Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, Yellow centric, training chapter, implied FeelingShipping (Blue Oak x Yellow)
It wasn't often that Blue fell asleep before her, but tonight Yellow wasn't even tired. It was strange, because she usually fell asleep even in the middle of regular tasks, but for the time being she couldn't even make her eyes slip closed if she tried. So, having nothing better to do after staring up at the stars, she turned her focus to the boy who lay across the fire from her.

He had a strange way of sleeping, half fetal position with his chest against the ground, arms crossed over it, and legs locked together at the ankles. And, with his hair swept over his face in a way that obscured his eyes, she might have been scared into thinking he was dead rather than just sleeping, had she not been able to see the faint rise and fall of his back as he breathed. It was a very protective position, and Yellow wondered when he had started doing it.

Then again, there were a lot of things she wondered about how he slept.

After all, it was hard not to be intrigued when he always seemed to fall asleep after her AND wake up earlier than her. (Not that it was very hard to sleep less than Yellow, who was notoriously tired all the time, but still.) It almost seemed like he didn't want to rest, didn't want to allow darkness to take him, to be absorbed into dreams.

It was foreign to her, because sleeping was practically a pass time in her opinion. She loved dreaming and she loved waking up well-rested, it was hard to imagine not wanting to do such things.

There were many mysteries with him, and somewhere in the back of her mind Yellow felt that these sleeping habits could be connected to other things he did- but she didn't know what connected the habits. He was abnormally nervous around touch, she knew that, but could that affect how he slept? Yellow supposed that she would have to look into it more.

For the time being, she could only watch him as his back rose and fell so gently, watch the subtle twitches of the hand she could see under his cloak, appreciate the way the breeze lightly tossed his hair.

In her chest, Yellow felt warmth.

In searching for Red, she could have never imagined finding another trainer she would care about as much as him, but here she was. Here Blue was.

And for now, even through the mysteries and questions and hidden pasts, Yellow trusted him. She felt safe there, laid a few feet away.

She was happy.

(I only had to do 400 words, shockingly : 3)

Around 1457 words!!!
written in a notebook. I can't type it up today ‘cause I’m tryna get to bed early, but tomorrow I'll type it up with edits. :' ) Then I can word-count those.

438+1457

Day 10: (257 words, 0⎚ for today.)
(14140 words, 81⎚ in total so far.)

This is actually only half of it, I got caught up in edits and stuff, so I only got through some of what I had written in the notebook. Rest coming tomorrow! I promise this time. <3

History (Please Don't Repeat) - Pokespe/Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, Blue Oak centric, semi-toxic Originalshipping (Blue Oak x Red) in the background, Trace is Original's son!AU, past trauma, panic and paranoia.
(This was the thing I wrote yesterday, but edited, so I'm only counting words for the edits and added sections.) (257 words.)

Blue supposed that he had always been scared of his own son. In the early days, it was just his assumptions that made him think he hated the boy; just the circumstances of his birth, the trauma and violence he had sprung from. And this dysphoria.

Oh, the dysphoria.

But Blue hadn't hated him, not really, and Blue hadn't truly wished to be away from him- to become the distant, solemn figure that he had always hated as his own grandfather. But the circumstances and the broken relationship his son had grown from, and the man who was the at fault for it, all that had made it very hard to be /there/ for his son. To talk with him, to watch him grow up, to be more than a distant shadow.

Because seeing Trace, seeing him moving and /alive/ and so… real, it made Blue remember how it had happened. It made him remember how Red had hurt him, and how he hadn't had the courage to do anything about it for the long-term.

And though he loved Red, though they had moved past that difficult time as their son grew, Blue could never forgive him for that particular instance. Seeing Trance, the creation come out of that trauma, was a horrible reminder of what had gone down.

Plus. Remembering what had happened… it made him almost blame his son subconsciously- and he didn't want to do that. Truly.

Blue had been blamed enough for things that weren't at all his fault in his time on this planet, and just the idea of unconsciously putting that on his son's shoulders was enough to make him feel a bit ill. It wasn't Trace's fault.

And it was through thoughts like that which made Blue realize how much he really cared about the boy he once thought to have hated. It was true, he supposed, that when Trace was a baby there had been scarcely any bond- any care at all. But it was also true that in that time the trauma was still fresh, and the dysphoria still direct. It had been such things that had severed their early bond, not Trace. Not Blue. Not even Red.

(Also, not ever mother felt the spark of overprotective love when they first laid eyes on their child, no matter how much that narrative was pushed.)

Over time, even as he kept his distance, Blue began to realize that he did not hate his son. He didn't even hate what had happened, not full. (After all, he had done horrible, unspeakable things to Red as well.) It started to become clear, after this realization, what was really going on.

Because not only was he scared /of/ Trace, his own child, but he was scared /for/ him as well.

And with how he had been conceived, it was not exactly the biggest surprise in the world /why/ Blue was scared for the poor kid.

There were things in Blue's childhood, even into his adulthood, that had shifted his perspective on relationships, love, healthy coping mechanisms, and the world around him. Red, too, had experienced such, ah… alterations. So, when Blue looked at their son, now knowing that he did not hate him, Blue feared what the world might throw at the child.

He didn't wat the poor kid to go through what he had.

But as Trace aged, as he got closer and closer to the ripe age of ten (at which their society considered them adults enough to go out alone into the world), he looked and acted more and more like Blue when he was that age. And when his son reached seven, the age Blue had always thought of as when /it/ all started, Blue had to admit just how scared he was.

Trace had his sharp, thin eyes; his shifting, sharp brown hair; the snarky, full of himself personality that Blue, too had once possessed before it was crushed out of him.

They were too similar.

Way too similar.

Being the way he was had gotten Blue in horrible, violent situations time and time again when he was younger- heck, even in the modern day. He didn't want his son to be like him, didn't want Trace to so much as bear a resemblance, because it was dangerous. It was dangerous to look the way Blue did, act the way he used to, even just to be a pokemon trainer at that age- and all alone, too.

Blue didn't want history to repeat down the generations more than it already had, as it always had in his own life. He didn't think he could bear it.

But he didn't know how to express these fears. He didn't want to scare his son, didn't want to come off as nagging or blaming either- in case something /did/ happen. He didn't want to worry Red, or make him feel any worse than he already did for something they had both put in the past. And what could Yellow, Ash or Green do about it? Yellow might try to comfort him, but she couldn't do anything in the long-term. Ash wasn't good at emotions, full-stop, and Green had already been fighting their legal system for years, searching for justice for all of their pasts. New worry and stress wouldn't do any good (especially since Blue had never helped her fight that fight in the past).

There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do, so Blue tried to hide it away. In that way, he wallowed in his own dread. In his paranoia and fer, in the broken, forever damaged way that he experienced love.

Because when he laid awake these nights, worrying for hours and hours until the sun peaked up over the mountains, Blue wasn't scared for himself. He was scared for his son.

—

Trace didn't understand his father.

He got along with his dad, Red, just fine, but Blue was a different story entirely.

Day 11: (130 words, 0⎚ for today.)
(14270 words, 81⎚ in total so far.)

History (Please Don't Repeat) - Pokespe/Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, Blue Oak centric, semi-toxic Originalshipping (Blue Oak x Red) in the background plus the DisasterShipping Trio (Red x Yellow x Blue Oak) (Orange is from SpecialShipping, Jade is from FeelingShipping), Trace is Original's son!AU, past trauma, panic and paranoia.
(Part two of the thing I've been doing! Only counting the edits and added sections.) (130 words.)

His whole life, his father had been wildly distant, and every time they saw each other Blue seemed to get a weird look in his eyes, like he was uncomfortable being around his own child. Trace wasn't really offended by this, after all, Blue had always been a bit /odd/ in general- Trace just wished he knew why.

He asked his dad about it, once, but Red hadn't been able to come up with a good answer. In fact, in the fact of that question his usually happy dad just looked distant, too.

Trace didn't ask again, after that.

He was happy with the parents he had. He had more than most people on the pokemon trainer route could claim, anyway. For example, his dad's mother had died before he could even remember what she looked like, and his father had abandoned his family completely when Red was around four. Then, both of Trace's father's parents were dead and had been since he was around five.

Even Trace's ‘mom’, Yellow, was an orphan- and her only ‘father figure’ was an uncle who had mostly left her home alone for days on end during her childhood.

Things just seemed to happen like that, for pokemon trainers. Maybe it was occupational, or generational.

In any case, Trace technically had more proper parental figures than many kids his age, even if his father was weird and sad most of the time they got to see each other. He still had his dad, and the woman he had always considered his mom. After all, the first and older of Trace's half-sisters, Orange, could call Yellow her mom and be one hundred percent accurate. They were also only a few weeks apart in age, so sometimes they even called themselves twins. That sort of dynamic tended to blur the lines a bit, since he had been raised alongside Orange for much of his life.

Then, to blur the lines even more, Trace's other half-sister (who was only two by the time he was getting ready to start planning his pokemon trainer), could also call Yellow her mom, and then Blue her dad. That one messed with Trace's head a little.

So, all things considered, Trace didn't need to be offended by his one distant parent. After all, Blue was insanely busy, especially since re-claiming the Champion title from Red a few years back.

But it still made him wonder.

Because the way his father looked at him had shifted, slightly. And, even though they still spent very little time together, Trace noticed that Blue was around slightly more than he used to be- even with all his Champion and Researcher duties. And, even though he was usually far away, his father's eyes always seemed to be on him, watching, worrying.

The looks had gone to blank distaste (from Trace's earliest memories) to something like dread.

Trace knew he had promised himself not to ask about the distance between them, but the dread was making him question more things. What had changed? Was it just that Trace was getting old enough to start seriously thinking about his pokemon journey? And what was up with the new rules?

It seemed that no matter what he did these days, no matter what he said about going on his pokemon journey, Blue looked worried. And every time Trace suggested that he start his pokemon journey in Cianwood, just as his father had, Blue said no. It wasn't often that Blue directed him to do anything, said yes or no to any decision, but for some reason he would not budge on that topic.

Again, Trace wondered what was wrong.

But he didn't really want to ask about that one, most because both his dad and his mom had actually agreed with his father. So instead, Trace thought he might be able to get information from his siblings. Obviously, Jade wouldn't be much help because she was so young (which really stunk because she was the only one out of the three who really spent any time with her and Trace's father), so the only proper option was Orange.

But when he asked her, Orange just looked confused. She was planning to go about her journey in the traditional way, going around the Kanto gyms with no preparation or training, so Trace supposed the topic had simply never come up. So even though he had asked around, Trace still didn't know what was wrong. He didn't know the reasons, didn't know why even Red and Yellow seemed so insistent on a more traditional pokemon journey (none of them had a traditional journey), didn't know why it was so important.

So maybe it was something deeper than regular rules.

But /what/ exactly was deeper, Trace did not know. And he wanted to find out.

So, if he couldn't ask, the only option was to listen in.

(sorry! I didn't manage to properly post this yesterday, but I did it)
I guess this is a chapter one, now.

Day 12: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily) (1601 words, 5⎚ for today.)
(15871 words, 86⎚ in total so far.)

Cabin Daily: Cabin Intro (348 words, 5⎚)
We have a never-before-seen variety of cabins this session—you might be spending your time doing anything from joining the revolution to navigating through tunnels on an alien planet to working at the circus, or so much more. Today, you'll get a chance to create your own storyline by writing a cabin intro! For inspiration, check out you own cabin's intro (the introduction to the storyline usually found at the top). Then, write a suspenseful introduction to a cabin with a genre of your choice (it doesn't have to be an existing cabin!) Your writing should be between 100 and 200 words, and you will earn 200 points for completing it. Sharing is required for this daily—we'd love to see what you create!

One: Self-Help
I thought this one could be the non-competing cabin. You know, because it's stress-free.

“Breathe in…” a gentle, soft voice brushes like soft feathers through the air.

Almost without your own help, a flood of air fills your lungs. It's warm and comfortable here, safe.

“Breath out…”

You let the air out, feeling content where you float in gentle darkness.

“Alright, you can open your eyes now.”

Slowly, almost like you don't want to, you open your eyes. You are met with a serene space, floating as if on cartoon clouds. The air around you glows a soft violet hue, with white speckles moving around like lazy fireflies.

There is a figure floating a few feet away from you, vaguely female but mostly made of the same shifting air that surrounds you on all sides. The white sparks are vaguely blueish and pinkish around the form, and within these you can see a small smile alight on her shimmering face.

“I see we have another visitor!” she speaks, and the voice seems to come from all around you, “Welcome to the Self-Help Sanctuary.”

(169 words.)

Two: Isekai

Great.

You're in another world- again. It's incredibly cold this time, and you can feel crunchy, old snow scraping at your hands.

As you look around, feeling dazed just as you remember the previous few times this has happened, your eyes drift up and fall on two figures standing above you. They look curious- and both so curiously out-of-place.

You struggle to sit up, managing to catch eye contact with one of the people.

On closer inspection, she's a girl about your age, but somehow… wrong. It's like she's somehow in a different art-style, like she doesn't belong in this place either. She smiles at you, and you turn to inspect the other person.

This one is a boy also about your age, and he looks oddly… digital. Well, at least you're accustomed to being digital after all these universe swaps.

“Hi,” the girl suddenly speaks, reaching a hand out to help you to your feet, “I'm Ice, and this is Kai,”

The boy nods, “We should bring you inside to the others, then. Welcome to the Isekai Igloo.”

(179 words.)

A Gym Leader Guide/World Building for Pokemon (1253 words.)
I can't actually copy paste this on here because it's formatting is all wrong (made it on Google docs), but here's the gist:
World building the pokemon world using the gym leaders. This means that I am writing a guide for hypothetical pokemon trainers on all the official and unofficial Gym Leaders and their importance in the Leagues. As of today, I have only got the title, general layout, introduction, and description done. However, I have more planned. Once I have any leaders in, I might actually link the google document, but for now it feels too unfinished to make at all public.
I am very excited to share it, though!

348+1253

Day 13: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily), 1⎚ (Bed before 11PM) (2314 words, 6⎚ for today.)
(16932 words, 87⎚ in total so far.)

Cabin Daily: Flowers (720 words, 5⎚)
It's time to bring back another old favourite - the victorian flower daily! In the victorian times, flowers were used as secret codes and symbolised different things. Today, we'll be writing using the victorian language of flowers and incorperate their meanings in our work using Alba's brilliant project, https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/741579314/ . Write 400 words using 2-5 flowers for 300 points! You can claim an extra 100 points for sharing proof.
Tea with some flowers- Pokespe/PokemonSpecial/Pokemon Adventures. TeaShipping (Daisy x Bill) with some past unrequited KsiShipping (Daisy x Courtney). Flowers used: Daisy (innocence), Wood Sorrel (joy), Vetch (shyness), Fern (concealed love), Indian Pink (I die if neglected)

Daisy wasn't very good at displaying her romantic intentions. Ever since her childhood, it had been hard to determine her attraction, and even more so for the people she found suitable than for her. For example, in her early childhood her best friend, Courtney, was her traveling partner as well as her Rival. And, beyond that, Daisy began to develop feelings for her.

But Courtney never caught on.

Daisy assumed that people would simply never understand her general attraction, even if she was trying her best to make her intentions clear. So, in order to not fall so deep in her despair that she could not dig back out, Daisy focused harder on her studies. Pokemon evolution, medicine, pokemon habitats, the history of her region. The list seemed to just keep going, to never end.

And alongside these genuine studies, Daisy developed a sort of hobby that also centered itself around research.

Flower language.

But Daisy was not interested in growing flowers, especially not potentially invasive ones, so she focused only on what they looked like and what they were said to mean. Maybe it was so intriguing to her because her name was a flower, or maybe because she like the idea of simple communication without the need to find the right words (she had always found it so hard to come up with the right things to say).

She started a sketchbook, although she had never been one for art, and began to learn how to capture the beautiful, meaningful bursts of color in her own style. Over the years, Daisy used them to describe how her day had gone, without needing to explain specifics or use those pesky words that had always betrayed her before.

And when she met Bill, once she realized what the fluttering feeling developing in her chest was, Daisy found herself sketching more than more. In fact, the timing was just so that she had run through all the pages in her first sketch book, so the realization let itself go in the form of artwork.

On page one, after Daisy began to realize what she was feeling, she doodled a little drawing of the vetch plant, letting the soft colors of her colored pencils show its meaning. She felt shy, almost exposed in these new realizations. And Bill wouldn't understand what the drawing meant, but to her it was full of meaning. Full of what words had never been able to do for her in the past.

The next day, they were assigned a research mission together. Late that night, after a long day of learning and laughing, she quickly sketched out one of her favorite plants: wood sorrel. It meant joy. And, through that meaning, it depicted her day more skillfully than any traditional diary entry ever could. For good measure, just before turning the light off, Daisy flipped onto the next page. There, in the middle of the pure white she made a second quick sketch: the daisy.

It was her namesake, and before now she had always thought of its meaning as a little insulting. Innocent.

But now, looking over at the already sleeping form of her research partner in the other hotel bed, she smiled. It was innocent joy which filled her chest now.

The next day, she decided to confront it all with herself. This was love, undeniably so. So, on her lunch break, Daisy yet again took out her sketchbook and began to replicate one of her favorite plants, although it was not a flower- the fern.

To many, the sweet-smelling, bright green plant meant love. But not just any love. It was concealed. Hidden, gentle and sweet behind a front of some kind. And even if Daisy wasn't hiding things directly, she had never been very straight to the point. In that way, any of her love was hidden. Once happy with the sketch, she looked up at the sky above- half-hidden by the huge trees of the Vermillion Forest and smiled.

She could add another flower to the pages of sketches too. The Indian pink.

Because she felt that without Bill here, with the neglect of being without him, she would die. But now, with him nearby, she was happy, and she vowed that someday- maybe in the far future- she would tell him.

(720 words.)


More of that same Gym Leader guide (1029 words)
Today I finished up the introduction and initial badge sections and started out on my first actual Gym Leader intro! Pretty much all these words were in explaining the badges, though, which I actually can post without messing up the formatting, so here:

Badge uses.
All official Gym Badges in the mainland Kanto leagues have uses beyond just proving that you won a gym battle. This is part of the reason why using fake badges is easily discovered, and why trying to make copies is rather fruitless. Traditionally, Gym Leaders come up with what powers or advantages their badges will grant trainers as well as creating the badges themselves. In the modern day, many leaders have opted not to craft their badges by hand any longer, but the initial tradition is still observed.

In this way, certain badges may be of more importance to you at certain points in your journey. Though the powers invested in these tokens are not immense, they can still make a difference for you and your team. As long as your starting point and the timing required for your journey allows it, it may be recommended to go about fighting the Gym Leaders in a particular order for their badges.

Generally, the powers are as such:

Boulder Badge:
Grants the owner the ability to better understand the emotions of rock-type pokemon and will also raise the attack statistic on your pokemon. Back in the day, though, many of his badges were defective and useless other than being genuine proof of his battles because he was too busy with his siblings to put a lot of energy into them. If you think you have a defective badge, you can ask him for a replacement. He also gives out the TM Bide and some trainers have reported an enhanced ability to use Flash, but Brock himself isn’t sure where this second power might be coming from.

Cascade Badge:
Grants the owner the ability to ‘attract’ wild water-type pokemon, as the badge is made of a material that many water-types think smells good. Misty will also hand out one of three TMs depending on what she judges to fit her challenger’s style the best. These three are Water Pulse, Bubble Beam, and Scald. If her sisters are filling in, Violet will give out Water Pulse, Lily will hand out Bubble Beam and Daisy will hand out Scald.

Thunder Badge:
Grants the owner the ability to attract electric-type pokemon (similarly to Misty’s badge) and will also make your pokemon faster- especially if they are electric-types. Also, the badge will occasionally help Fly to be used, but don’t bet on it. Surge sometimes gives out TMs, often Thunderbolt but occasionally Shock Wave. Don’t bet on this either, though, because he only hands them out around half the time.

Rainbow Badge:
Grants the owner the ability to better resist grass-centric powder moves like Sleep Powder. It has been observed that owning this badge makes the use of Strength much easier for many pokemon, which Erika has stated to be purposeful, showing the hidden strength of grass-types. Alongside this badge, Erika will also give the TM Mega Drain, though in the past she also gave out Giga Drain. Also, if you express interest in perfume or generally ‘girly’ things, Erika will also hand out perfume samples.

Soul Badge:
Grants the owner the ability to exude an aura of calm even if one is not calm and may allow the defense statistic on your pokemon to be raised. Also, it has been observed to make using Surf easier for some trainers, but this was not the initial intention of the Soul Badge and most likely is an occasional defective, extra power. Koga also hands out TM Toxic to any who defeat him in his gym, though not those who battle him in other locations.

Marsh Badge:
Grants the owner the ability to feel a true mental connection with pokemon and will also help raise the special attack statistic on your pokemon. Occasionally, if gifting to a psychic-main trainer, Sabrina will also instill the ability to ‘feel’ the future in these badges. Along with the badge, Sabrina will also give out TM Psywave to most trainers. However, she will sometimes give out the TM Calm Mind to younger trainers.

Volcano Badge:
Grants the owner the ability to withstand high levels of heat and will also raise the Special Attack and Special Defense of your pokemon. He will sometimes help out with the move Waterfall as well, if you ask. Blaine gives out either the TM Fire Blast or Overheat (you may ask for a specific one the majority of the time). However, if his cousin is filling in you will not receive a TM.

Viridian Badge:
Grants the owner much more ease in having their pokemon listen to them and will often serve as a direct pass into the front of the line in the Viridian City pokemon center (provided there isn’t an emergency). This isn’t purposeful on Blue’s behalf but simply because the citizens of Viridian are very grateful to have a Gym Leader again and respect those who challenge. Blue has recently started to hand out the TM Trick Room unless you don’t battle him in his gym, because- as stated- he “doesn’t carry those things around”.

Giovanni Era Viridian Badge:
It would sometimes grant the owner the ability to unlock doors in Rocket Bases, but this was not purposeful in the slightest. It would also occasionally raise a pokemon’s ability to be evasive. When battled, Giovanni used to hand out the TM Earthquake if he was feeling nice, but would be more likely to give you an actual earthquake instead.

Three more from yesterday's daily: (565 words.)

One: Satire

There, in the middle of the new purple and orange meeting room, sits a table. As you step closer, you can make out the words on the note that has been taped haphazardly to the white surface.

'Sorry,' it reads, ‘our servers are scratching their heads!’

That's strange.

Usually, such a note would not be present in the meeting room- not unless the Explore Page was broken again. You peer back down that hallway you came from. Down there, the control room that allows new projects to grow in popularity had been closed for almost a year. Maybe the Explore Page is broken.

But you don't have time to worry about that and look back at the meeting table.

You almost jump out of your skin as your eyes catch on the many people that are suddenly standing around the table- all staring deep into your eyes. When did they get here? Are they new bot accounts, or something?

It's crazy. Completely wild, discordance, you might even say its-

Then, one of them opens their mouth.

“Sorry, you can't say that word- the title of the hit Living Tombstone song,” they apologize, “but, welcome to the Scratch.mit.edu Satire cabin anyway!”

(200 words.)

Two: Western

Galloping over the rocky ground on the back of your favorite horse, you cut out the scent of the baking stone and those clouds of dust by pulling the bandana up over your nose. As the sun bakes your back and the world rushes by around you, you peer out from under the rim of your leather hat and scan your surroundings.

You were called to this place for a meeting, but for the moment you can only spot the hot, red rocks of this desert, a passing railroad, and the scraggly trees that point to where water might be in the wetter parts of the year.

Then, almost too late, your horse lets out a neigh of shock and stops abruptly. Almost thrown from the saddle with this harsh stop, you hardly manage to make out the face of the figure standing in your path.

She would be about up to your chest if you were down from your horse, and with a wild look in her dark eyes under a wide-brimmed hat just like yourself.

“Woah there, pardner,” her voice is surprisingly low, and full of humor, “You're almost late- welcome to the Western Railway!”

(197 words.)

There: Magic Realism

Because you were lazy today, you decide to teleport to the meeting-place.

Sure, it's not the politest way of showing up, but you're tired, alright? They should probably be glad you even managed to show up this morning.

When you make your appearance, a girl with large barn owl wings catches your eye. She waves, and you realize in your half-asleep mind that she's beckoning you towards her.

Then, as you stumble your way up a little flight of moving stairs (you never figured out why fashionable places seem to like those so much- they're such a tripping hazard).

“Hi, are you here for the meeting?” the girl smiles when you make it to her desk.

You nod, as that was the goal.

Her smile grows into a wide grin, “Great! It's so neat to have so many new people, if you head in through those double doors-” she gestures with one wing, “-you'll be just in time to see the opening film. Welcome to Magical-Realism Movie Theater!”

(168 words.)

720+1029+565

Day 14: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily), 1⎚ (Bed before 11PM) (405 words, 6⎚ for today.)
(17337 words, 93⎚ in total so far.)

Cabin Daily: Google Translate (405 words, 5⎚)
Another classic SWC daily - google translate! Copy and paste a song lyrics into google translate, and translate it into multiple different languages until the lyrics are completely different. Then, write a 400 word story based on the translated lyrics! This daily is worth 400 points, and 50 extra points will be awarded for providing proof.

Lyrics:

Original Lyrics (Popipo- Hatsune Miku):
ぽっぴぽっぴぽっぽっぴっぽー （×11）
ぽっぴぽっぴぽっぽっぴっ
ぽぴ

さあ飲め　お前好きだろ？
野菜ジュース
私が決めた　いま決めた
だから飲んで　私の野菜ジュース
価格は200円

そいや！！　そいや！！
どっせー！！　どっせー！！
そいや！！　そいや！！
どっせー！！　どっせー！！

まろやか野菜ジュース
ふわふわ野菜ジュース
いちばんオススメなのは
緑のジュース

ぽっぴぽっぴぽっぽっぴっぽー (2x)
ベジタブルな
ぽっぴぽっぴぽっぽっぴっぽー (2x)
生命あふれた
ぽっぴぽっぴぽっぽっぴっぽー (2x)
あなたも今
ぽっぴぽっぴぽっぽっぴっぽー (2x)

野菜ジュースが好きになる

Final Translated Lyrics:
apples apples apples (x11) .
pop pop pop is pop
father

Come on, have a drink, don’t you like it?
vegetable juice
I have decided and now I have decided
So drink my vegetable juice
price 200 yen

Hey! ! “This is the truth!” !
Dose! ! “Dose!” !
Hey! ! “This is the truth!” !
Dose! ! “Dose!” !

tender vegetable juice
Fluffy Vegetable Juice
better advised
charcoal juice

pop pop pop pop pop (2x).
plant
pop pop pop pop pop (2x).
alive
pop pop pop pop pop (2x).
you too now
pop pop pop pop pop (2x).

i love vegetable juice

Writing:

I wanted to plant my garden earlier today, but it wasn't the right weather. Instead, I decided to pick the apples I had sworn I planted, but for some reason when I went outside at noon both of the trees were gone.

It was strange, seeing them simply gone.

And it wasn't as though they had been dug up- simply as if they had never existed in the first place. Not stolen, but taken.

I stared into my fruit garden for a long time, unable to process what had happened to my beautiful trees. I was sure that, years ago, I had planted them. I was sure that, for years, I had supported them and loved them and made sure that they grew tall and strong. Year after year, they had been my hobby and my dream.

But now, it was like I had never done any of those things.

So, once I decided that I had seen enough, I turned to head back inside. But then, in the middle of my 360 degrees, I spotted my vegetable garden. Instead of being empty, as I had left it, it was overflowing with crops of all sorts.

There were corn, potatoes, and cucumbers. Beans of all shapes and sizes, pumpkins and other squashes. And it wasn't just the plants. Every single plant was hanging down with the weight of their edible sections, bending and heavy. Even the plants that weren't supposed to be grown at this time of year, everything was in full bloom- all next to each other and all together.

I was in shock.

How were they all there? I hadn't even planted anything, not this year, not in any previous years. This was supposed to be the first day of my journey to a full garden, not the final day.

But, as I blinked in little comprehension, I began to roll over this outcome in my mind.

In some ways, it was like my trees had been replaced by this successful garden.

In some ways, I had succeeded, even if my progress had been lost in a way. It was new progress, but it was still progress. In some way, I was happy with this outcome.

So, with that joy in mind, I set out towards my newly grown garden. I could make so much with this, so much food- so much drink. This wasn't bad after all!

I could make vegetable juice!

Day 15: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily) (2097 words, 5⎚ for today.)
(19434 words, 98 ⎚ in total so far.)

Cabin Daily: musical (340 words, 5⎚)
Today, we'll be telling the story of tonight—or rather of this session—in musical form! Choose some characters, pick an event from this session or your cabin's storyline, and write a song, script, or some of both from your characters' point of view. If you write a song, try not to parody an existing one. ^^ Once you get the job done by writing a script of at least 300 words, you can earn 300 points, as well as an additional 100 for sharing. Good luck!

Boy: Aw, come on! It bounced off again!

*lights fade on to reveal a few children standing around an angry looking Nidorino*

Girl *pushing forward*: Let me try, let me try! It's my turn!

Boy: No?! That's not fair, you did give me enough time! I didn't get to catch it!

Girl *sticking tongue out*: But I will!

Girl *winding up to throw the pokeball*: I'll catch this pokemon, and I'll make it my pet!

Girl *throwing*: Watch THIS!

*the pokeball bounces off, the Nidorino just looks more angry*

Girl: Huh?!

Boy *smug*: Well, turns out it wasn't so easy after all.

(Background music kicks up as the pair continue arguing over who should get to re-try first, then, a figure walks out onto the stage.)

Red: *laughs* What are you guys even trying to do?

(The background music shuts off as the two quarrelling trainers turn to look at him.)

Red: You'll never catch a pokemon like that!

(The background music clicks back on as Girl and Boy follow Red with their eyes. Red is walking around, assessing the Nidorino.)

Girl: Why YOU again? || Boy: Come on man, this Nidorino's mine!

Red: Well you'll never catch a pokemon that way, you gotta weaken it first!

Red *turning back to them*: THEN you can throw the ball.

Girl *stamping her foot*: Ugh! || Boy: I like my method just fine!

~Red (singing, finally): If you don't weaken it first, the pokeball's just gonna burst!

Boy: Dude, that wasn't even funny.

Red: F'instince, try this!

(Red throws a pokeball forward, and Poli explodes out from the ball with a confident roar. The background music starts to pick up the sounds of a pokemon battle theme.)

~Red: If you don't damage something first, it'll never join with you!

~Girl: Even IF I damage it first, it won't want to be subdued!

Red: Exactly!

~Boy: Can't I catch it instead?

~Red: Shh! Just watch and learn!

Red: Poli! Water Gun!

(Poli fires an attack and the trainers have to roll out of the way.)

…And so forth the song would go. I imagine this being the introduction song, most comparable to The Day I Got Expelled from the Percy Jackson musical, but I'm not very good at writing songs and this is low-key painful lol.

Weekly: collabs!!! (1757 words.)
https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/discuss/topic/695082/?page=1#post-7369456

Part One (workshop):

Part A (a few ideas):

How to write animal characters.

How to write interesting prophecies.

How to implement an AU into your fanfiction.

Part B (real one):
Used @luna724's prompt of: “um this is probably the weirdest workshop request ever- how to write from the first person pov of someone who is possessed?? it's their pov but it's not really them because they're possessed :0 i kind of actually need to see this right now so-” I loved it so much lol.

~Introduction

Hello! For this workshop, let's try to put ourselves in the head of a character who cannot control any of their movements. Imagine, unable to speak, to clench your fists, even to look around.

But you're still aware of what's happening, perhaps fighting to regain control. Perhaps sitting back and letting it happen.

Is it panic inducing? Is it calming in some strange, horrifying way? Or are you intrigued by what's going on and want to know more? Imagine those thoughts, because that's the only thing you'd really be able to do in this situation. And you'd better get really comfortable with it, because who's to say how long your author's going to keep you in this awkward, out-of-body position?

Now that you've envisioned that, consider if you could put it into words rather than feelings.

Once that's done too, you should be ready to take on this workshop.



~Part one: Context.

Really, like with any other story, you must first consider what the context to this arrangement is. Ask yourself some questions: WHY is the character not in control of themselves? Where is the story taking place? Will it be resolved? How COMPLETE is their inability to control themselves? Consider their personality. Would this upset them greatly or to a lesser degree? Would it get worse or better as they work through this experience? Will they fight their way out or let things happen around them? Can they and the other force communicate or not?

The more questions the better, until you have a proper picture of your character, their reaction to this experience, and what is causing this possession.

(Note: If you are taking inspiration from a religion or a mythology, be sure to do research and be as accurate as you can within the bounds of your story so that your writing may still respect the people who follow the beliefs you are using as fiction.)



~Part two: Different approaches.

Depending on what is inspiring you for your piece, your character may be different degrees of ‘in control’.

It is possible that they may be able to control, for example, their expressions or their eyes, but nothing else. It's also possible that they only can't control, say, their voice. (This could be played upon as a game of truth between the two forces controlling their body, communicating with the other characters.) It's also possible that they can only control their thoughts, or, in fact, not even their thoughts. Perhaps they are only barely conscious of what's happening with their movements and words, even with their thoughts. Maybe it's simply a bit of their soul left, and they are only aware of their continuing existence in darkness.

All of these cases are perfectly valid ways to take your story and, of course, you can always shift from one to another as your story continues. Perhaps there is a power-struggle for control of the body between the character and whatever other force is present. A character might fight to regain control or slowly lose it, depending on where you want to take your story.

And in all of these cases, you must consider that much of the story will be told without words from the character directly (unless one of the only things they can control is their voice). In this way, you will need to focus greatly on an ‘internal’ perspective.



~Part three (a): A fully internal approach.

This is an approach simply for a story where a character has very little control. Tell the story fully from their perspective, looking out into the world as they are unable to personally influence it.

You might want to use sensory words like “cold” or “dark”, and other descriptors like “uncomfortable” as they describe their situation, looking out into a regular world that they cannot influence. Paint a picture of how they feel about their situation, and what they think of the actions they are forced to perform without their own control.

This will be an emotion focused story, with no dialogue from the main character themselves (unless they can communicate with the force blocking them from control).

If you need help with emotions, I'm sure there are other workshops that you can check that will be able to describe writing them very well!



~Part three (b): A ‘split’ approach.

(This is one of many general approaches for pretty much all of the ‘levels’ of a character being in control.) You may also consider writing your story in alternating chunks.

The two chunks may discuss the same events or events chronologically, from and outside and an inside perspective. This way, you as an author can be in full control of what your supporting characters see and think of what is happening. Is it disturbing to them? Are they the ones who set the curse/possession/whatever upon the main character? Are they fighting desperately to return a friend back to them? Do they even notice?

Remember, in this way of working through your story you will need to master the different emotions of different characters, especially if the supporting characters and the main character have different opinions on the situation.



~Part three ©: An middle-ground approach.

Perhaps you don't want to focus on the character that has been possessed. Perhaps, instead, the other perspective fascinates you. Not the viewers watching the possession, but the force possessing the character.

Ask yourself more questions. Why are they doing this? How? Are they even a being? What if it's a force instead, one with no soul? Can THEY communicate with the character who is possessed? Is this difficult or easy? And so on.

This perspective will be very different from that of the possessed character, but still with an internal focus in a way, because they are not the owner of the body. They may be controlling it, but you may not want them to see the body as their own in the same way any other person will.



~Part four (d): Blends.

Remember that there are many other perspectives you can deal with this in! Perhaps you want to blend the possessor and the possessed in a different sort of split story, or focus only on outsiders who can only watch as these events occur. Perhaps you're more interested in a simple emotion story, split by fights to regain control. Perhaps it's something I haven't mentioned yet.

There are many, many ways to write this sort of story and I think they're all worthy of being explored! I think the key is just to really ask yourself what you want of this sort of plot in order to write it well, and to research if need be. Always put yourself in the shoes of the perspective holder, especially if you're switching perspectives. This will help you to ground the character's voice and what descriptive words you should use to paint your picture.

You've got this. <3



~Disclaimer: There are TONS of ways to take this idea! Just think through what might work best for your story in particular and write what you think feels best with your character and your plot.

I didn't want this workshop to be rigid just because there's so much you can do with this idea. In the end, write what makes you happy and helps you to improve! I hope this was helpful. <3

(18+1228 words.) (It's here.)

Part Two (implement):
Not Innocent, Either - Pokespe/Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, half-toxic!OriginalShipping (Blue Oak x Red), Green centric, relationship study, character study, what Green thinks about them.
I used @lilyjen's workshop for this. It was on morally gray characters.

Blue was many things, but Green never would have described him as a bad person. Not explicitly, at least.

He had strange mannerisms in many situations, and truly odd opinions on many things Green would have thought logically should have had a straight, easy answer. She wouldn't say any of the things he did were evil, exactly, but there were some questions that arose when he expressed opinions on things like experimentation on Pokemon or to what degree revenge should be considered acceptable.

And whatever he had going on with Red in their rival dynamic, Green didn't even want to know.

That, she felt, was the best expression of the bad things Blue was capable of- that the both of them were capable of. Sure, they were friends outside of battle for the most part, and had been for a very long time, but there was true cruelty hidden between the lines that truly, awfully disturbed her. She didn't like to see how much hurt they could cause, but the two seemed to be constantly barreling towards new records, new lows. It was like they wanted to develop bad things between them.

But when she was young, Green hadn't even given these actions a second glance.

The two of them were so frustratingly tortured within their own lives, in their younger childhoods especially, that Green had always seen their aggression as typical. And it wasn't like they hurt anyone other than each other, or went out of their way to cause harm unless they were fighting. It had seemed like typical rival behavior, at first.

But as Green got older and grew more accustomed with both the world outside of pokemon training and pokemon trainers and with what she truly wanted to see the world as, she started to see things a little differently. Why was it that the two of them felt the need to cause harm? Why was it that they had to kick and scream and throw punches, while other friendships were completely average and non-violent? Why was it that these habits had become so normal to them that it was appropriate in their own minds?

It was through questions like this that Green was forced to look at the situation logically.

They had been through a lot. She had too. Every dex-holder, at some point in their short, stressful lives, had gone through truly traumatic experiences. It was just that these two had taken their trauma particularly harder than most. (And, perhaps, it was wired into their society to behave in this manner when such a perfect dynamic was fulfilled.)

They thought of it as destined, so they carried out their own prophecy and the curse it bore.

Green didn't think they were to blame. Not even as they refused to change over the years, not even when- time and time again- one or the other confided in her that they didn't know what to do to fix what had been found already broken.

She didn't think they were to blame, no, but they weren't innocent either.

(511 words.)

PART THREE WILL BE COMPLETED TOMORROW I HOPE

340+1757

Day 16: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily), 10⎚ (Weekly), 1⎚ (submit writing in critique thing), 5⎚ (critique someone's writing in critique thing), 1⎚ (bed before 11PM) (1162 words, 22⎚ for today.)
(20596 words, 120⎚ in total so far.)

Weekly: collabs!! (211 words, 10⎚.)
Part 3: Editing
I did @savebats' workshop. I also did submit my writing. : )

I think this is a very good Workshop for you to have chosen, Bats, because in general your descriptions in your writing are very good and do help to paint an awesome picture. The introduction to this Workshop really sells that point and is also eye-catching in a way that makes me want to read the rest.

So, yes, the intro is solid.

Also, the advice throughout is solid as well- even though some people may have differing opinions on description, I'm inclined to agree with pretty much everything you said. It is very well written and descriptive (ha ha) in a way that helps the reader to visualize what you're asking them to do.

The only constructive criticisms I have all have to do with the formatting of the Workshop rather than the advice given, because all the advice is sound.

For a workshop, I think it would be a bit easier to digest if you split it up into sections. For example, section one: (and then go on about your general advice), section two: (and then something else). In that way, it's easier for the reader to read the sections and be able to follow if they are writing along with reading this workshop.

Really though, it was great!

Cabin Daily: (652 words, 5⎚)
An old favourite returns to SWC this session - the aesthetic set! Choose one of your original characters (or any character you've developed or worked with this session) and put together a collage in a scratch project that represents their personality. Your aesthetic set should contain at least four pictures, as well a drawing of your character. The photographs you use do not need to be original, but remember to give due credit if you use someone else's images! You can win 100 points for your cabin by completing this daily, plus an extra 50 points if you share your project.

First of all, the project is here: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/875109848/
Here are the explanations.

Image one:

This is a drawing of my original character, the one I used for this daily. Technically, they do not have a name and are only referred to by me and @savebats (who I share the character with) as “Apollo Kid”. But when (or if) they appear in my long-form Percy Jackson fic, they will be called “Lo”.

They are tan with many freckles and golden hair. Although you can't see it in this drawing, their regular camp T-shirt is cropped and they wear cut-off blue jeans. They are connected to the Pokemon World through a shared communication internet, their pokemon Kadabra, and semi-prophetic dreams that deal with whatever they are currently most interested in.

(114 words.)

Image two:

This is a photo of an ancient Greek artwork of Pegasus. Although Apollo Kid is not directly related to Pegasus in any interesting or narratively important way, they do greatly respect the immortal horse. Also, the color scheme of this peice of artwork fit Apollo Kid very well, and serves as a replacement for the missing pegasus on my character's shirt (I refuse to draw Pegasus on the Camp Half Blood shirts. It's far too complicated).

(76 words.)

Image three:

This is a photo of a red kickball.

You may be familiar with the meme of a person throwing a red kickball at a group of people. The person is labeled Apollo, and the people are often labeled something along the lines of “people on the internet pretending to be funny” and the ball is labeled “the gift of prophecy”. From there, the meme devolved into a statue of Apollo's Roman form edited to have star/angry eyes and a red kickball in hand. And from there, to just a photo of a red kickball.

Because this OC's main power is prophecy related, I thought this was relevant.

(108 words.)

Image four:

In a bit of story related lore, Apollo Kid is sent on a mission at some point for camp.

Like most other things in this universe that me and my sister made up, this was mostly because it was funny. (We liked the idea of them finally admitting to being a demigod because they thought it was likely that they would die and never be able to tell the truth. It was really silly, just trust me.) In any case, they were fine.

However, on part of their mission they unlocked a new power from their godly parent, Apollo. Prior to this mission, they had thought their only power was prophecy because they are horrible at archery. However, they ran into danger and were forced to use music to escape. Imagine the song “The Devil Went Down To Georgia” (swearing warning!). It went something like that.

(146 words.)

Image five:

As I previously mentioned, Apollo Kid only owns one pokemon- this being a Kadabra. The logistics of how they got this pokemon would take a ridiculously long time to explain and have to do with a semi-roleplay that me and @savebats have had going for four years. It has to do with many combined fandoms, universe jumping through Hogwarts and Hetalia magic, and communication with another universe over the internet (which is the only link between these two particular universes).

It also has to do with another OC of mine, who is technically a Hetalia OC despite representing a Minecraft SMP: Evo. (Or Evolution SMP.) But all that's very long lore and I don't want to get into it.

(119 words.)

Image six:

This is a photo of the sunset, the orange and yellows represent the colors I implemented in Apollo Kid's design and, perhaps more importantly, the sun represents their godly parent: Apollo.

It seemed like a nice way to wrap up the aesthetic set, with their parentage. (Although, fun fact, Apollo is not the only immortal blood that this character has. Their grandfather on the other side is actually Alfred F. Jones, otherwise known as America. This is pretty much only because it was really funny. The more you know!)

(89 words.)

Critique of @PoppyWriter's piece. (326 words, 5⎚.)

First impression, this is a really beautiful poem. I feel like I could relate very well to a lot of the lines and the general messages, and the peice itself was really really pretty.

I'm not entirely sure if it was intentional, but I liked how much color there was in the beginning of the poem compared to the end. In some way that really helped create a picture in my mind of what was happening. Also, I just love the last line so much. I feel like it's very true to life and struggles that many people deal with, publicly or not. (My favorite line was “There's life beyond tearstreaked crimes”, though. There's something so descriptive with the use of ‘tear streaked’ in this context, very cool.)

All in all, I really liked it.

Many of the bolded lines that you noted as ‘to be edited’ actually worked really well in my opinion. The stanza, “The bluebird eyes and rain-swept hair / Each thought released in song / Her dreams released to air / Was a soul I'd known not long” which was entirely bolded at the time I critiqued this, worked in it's context. However, if you think it and other bolded sections can be improved upon I have some suggestions.

In general some of the bolded lines could probably be tightened up a bit- or evened out with the other lines in the stanzas. For example, the lines in stanza ten are very different lengths from each other, and what you might prefer better here would be lines of more equal length. (Maybe instead of “Another time to try” you could say something like “Here is another time to try”, which would make it much closer in length to the other lines in the stanza.)

But really, this poem was great- and I'm not usually one for poetry! This was really pretty, and even as a first draft it read very well. Good job, seriously. <3

The comment thread from yesterday when I wrote the workshop: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/studios/33594909/comments/#comments-228995257

The comment thread from today about the critiques: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/873238821/#comments-345100001

Day 17: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily), 1⎚ (bed before 11PM) (382 words, 6⎚ for today.)
(20978 words, 126⎚ in total so far.)

Cabin Daily: Emojis (382 words, 5⎚)
For today's daily, we're going to take inspiration from mixed up emojis! Go to emojikitchen.dev and create any combination of emojis—then, use your creation as a writing prompt. Write at least 300 words to earn 400 points for your cabin.
(If you can't access that website, choose one of the combinations from this project instead: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/870068209/ )

Can't Communicate In His Own Thoughts - Pokespe/Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, Blue Oak centric, implied Chuck (Cianwood Gym Leader) bashing, trauma response exploration, nothing graphic tho don't worry.
There was something missing in his memory.

It wasn't like he'd forgotten a little detail, or like events had simply not been important enough to file away, but like he was so hyper aware of what had happened that it had disappeared. Maybe it had been so long that he only remembered NOT remembering.

Blue tried not to let it bother him.

When he was younger, just starting out on his official pokemon journey once he turned eleven and left Cianwood, there was some fuzzy remembrance. Something in the back of his mind that held emotion, and pain. But now, that time was simply a void.

After his battle with Koga, Blue had felt something similar to remembering. But he didn't want to imagine that the incidents themselves were similar in any way, so some deep part of him pushed the idea away and- no sooner than he had done that- the feeling of familiarity was gone.

The worst part was that, even though there were so many individual gaps and holes where nothing added up, it all felt like one event. Like there was something stringing them together that he couldn't force himself to relive or to reveal.

Even if the sides on either end of these gaps in his memory didn't add up, even if he remembered injuries he had no explanation for, Blue could never force himself to think critically about these things and sew them back together- he could never seem to force himself into unearthing what had been forgotten. When he mentioned it to Red, he suggested that he had perhaps gotten head injuries that shook out his memory, but that didn't make sense.

It wasn't like the memories were gone, or not recorded, but like he couldn't access them.

There was something haunting in that void that made Blue suspect exactly what had happened, and he couldn't even name what it was he was suspecting.

He knew whatever was /there/ influenced how he acted. He knew whatever was /there/ controlled the rest of his memories in that area of his life (how much of it was true?). He knew whatever was /there/ had been unspeakably horrible. And some hidden part of him /knew/ what it was.

And how could he not communicate with his own mind?

These were my three emojis:
Exclamation Point In Triangle + Martial Arts Uniform
Shaking + “…” In Speech Bubble
Exclamation Point In Triangle + Box Trap

Day 19: 5⎚ (Cabin Daily) (421 words, 5⎚ for today.)
(21399 words, 131⎚ in total so far.)

Cabin Daily: Arrangement (421 words, 5⎚)
For our second bidaily of the session, your first task is to create and share a bizarre picture of an odd arrangement of everyday objects (for example a tower of forks or a row of clocks interspersed with carrots). If you are unable to take a photograph, a drawing or collage will work as well. However you choose to create your image, make sure to upload it to a project and share it in the main cabin's comments.
Then, claim someone else's picture, and write a 400 word analysis, story, or poem about whatever the image depicts. You'll earn 600 points for doing this bidaily, and sharing is required for both parts.

First of all, here's the project itself: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/875878573/

I used @xXFierroOrFalafelXx's project (which can be found here: https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/875724587) as a prompt.

Here is the writing:

The leopard swishes her tail from side to side staring nervously at the world ahead of her.

Since leaving the edge of the forest, she had felt incredibly exposed and in danger of attacks. Sure, she was a gigantic predator animal and very powerful in most circumstances, but at the moment she was also in a bit of a pickle. See, she'd gotten this trap stuck to her head. It wasn't like those metal jaws that shut on the legs of unsuspecting animals, it wasn't that sharp, but there were some similarities.

She was left with no other option than to head into town and see if anyone could help her.

So the leopard surveyed her surroundings.

In the distance, clothing-pin houses sit atop a gently sloping hill. Those were her best bets for help, but just the idea of going near them made her nervous. Closer by, there sat a rocky hill covered in spiky black plants and a long, sharp weapon from the human village- though it hadn't been used in years. (She would have to be careful to avoid that area, she was already in enough pain from the trap she was stuck in.) A little past those was a large green rock, and atop this was the sundial meeting area.

That was where she would go, the leopard decided.

Because even though the humans and the animals had been at peace for many years, the leopard knew that there were still those who did not trust her kind- and she certainly felt the same way back. After all, they hadn't cleaned up the traps in the forest, just stopped setting them. In that way, they were still very dangerous indeed. An open, safe area away from people's homes would be the best place to go, so the meeting place it was!

And as such the leopard set off towards the village, hoping against hope that she looked presentable and kind in a way that humans would understand. (Now she was wishing she had studied up on her human speech a little bit better, at least enough to communicate her need for help from them.)

The leopard crossed the space as quickly as she could, carefully avoiding the worn-down metal spears and the pointy threading bushes that covered so much of the area. Then, there was only the large rock to climb.

So, hoping that she would be able to get their attention without scaring them, the leopard leapt up the rock to get help from the humans.