Write a Journal Entry 1

[Hana]

The aim of this exercise is to get into your character's thoughts and perspective as well as to improve your narrative writing. You are encouraged to try getting inside the mind of your character. Be your character.

Write a journal or log entry by a character of your choice. Each week's exercise has a theme and a selected word to implement in your writing vocabulary. Think of it as a way to include different words, sometimes words that you rarely use, in new ways.

Theme:
disastrous misunderstandings

Word:
caustic

adjective;
1. capable of burning or corroding
2. highly critical; sarcastic​

 

[Draugvan]

Char: Cameron Agar
Job: Huntsman and game-skinner in fantasy settings.

8th cycle, 3rd day of Gibbous moon

I came upon a dying woman today. Another killing. The atmosphere is growing tense here. Its just there are not enough officers to man the outposts every night. Too many men are given double shifts and losing more sanity than sleep. I had been coming back from the larder house after midday when not one moment was there a body, and all of sudden then there was.

It must have been one of the wash girls coming to sneak in a nip at her fancy, but there were too many marks on the face to tell who. Like one of them animals prowling in the night took her for a boar.

It was a sorry sight to say the least. I hurried over to see if there was any girl left to be saved but the light left her eyes as I took her in my arms. A group of watchmen came around the back where I was and they see the woman. Her body limp in my hands, hands still slick with grub from skinning. They're so wound up they're not thinking right. It was the beast what did the deed, not me!

I felt sick. My throat was caustic from bile and all the while it was tight like they were going to lynch me. I don't want to die. Not for another woman's death! I prayed for mercy so they put me in here to be judged by the good Sun's light. If I do die, I want my last words to be recorded so they can know the truth that they did wrong. I only wanted to help a woman I couldn't know I was going to be sentenced. Pray, someone kill this animal before we kill ourselves.

Agar, C.​

 

[noodle]

Character: Luna Adler
Info: Dragon shifter, superhero settings (Avengers AUs, specifically)

Dec. 7th, 2027

It's getting worse, too bad to handle. Not only are they constantly tormenting me with their insensitive demands, but they are now also threatening to put me in the....chair, I suppose I should call it? Cat called it the 'mind-wiper', but I'm not sure if that's exactly what it does. All I know is that Alex was put in it when he decided to stay, and.....look how he turned out. It's like I don't even know my best friend anymore. He's cold. Distant. He visits my cell only to offer halfhearted words of consolation and sympathy and then tries to convince me to sign the revised Accords. Last time he was here, he got angry at me when I tried to tell him my side of things.

Alex has never yelled at me before. Never.

Anyway, why should I sign? I would just be giving them permission to do what they've already been doing to me, perhaps make it even worse. And I do not agree. So I won't sign.

Xander isn't any better. I considered him a brother before all this, but now....I don't know. He claims to have a plan to stop the Accords and free me and the others that they've captured, but it doesn't seem to be in motion. He just wanders around, the quickly fading scars on his body the only indication of what they've been doing to him.

The new archer, Nicole, the one that helped Alex, Alexis, and Xander capture Cat and I, is really the only sane person in this place. My body is sore and I have scarring wounds on my shoulders from where she shot my wings, and yet she brings me tea and medicines for my cold, fresh bandages for my many wounds, and convinces the guards to let her give us some decent food. I'm not sure if I can trust her, but....she insists she had no idea what was supposed to happen to us at the time of my capture. I don't know.

And then there's Alexis. In one word: asshole. The dick seems to enjoy the torture we're put through. He stands and smirks from outside as agents grill me with pointless questions, watching wth pleasure as they are slowly wearing down on my self-worth. He only uses my codename, refuses to acknowledge that I am, despite being powered, just as human as him. He acts as if we should treat him like a god, despite the fact that he has no real power over what happens to us. Alex rescued me from the agents once while they were cutting me......the next day Alexis had assigned him a shock collar; 'to keep him under control'. And now I'm wearing one too. His caustic, controlling attitude toward us is almost too much to take.

He treats me like a monster, and like a weapon. Calls me 'fire-breathing murderer', and 'Nightfire'. Not 'Luna'. My name is Luna. I have to remind myself of this every day, to try and escape the torture and the despair that their words bring. My cell is small and bright and white and cold, and the few pillows that I'm allowed are not soft. I pulled the blankets over the edges of my cot to create a shaded area to write this all down in. Since then, the knife I stole from the training rooms has been better hidden for what I'm planning today.

I guess I should get to the point of this. I want to say I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, Alex, that I couldn't save you from them, and that I couldn't see your true self again. I still love you. I forgive you.

I'm sorry, Xander, I'll admit you have attitude problems, but.....you're still my little brother. Don't lose hope, midget.

Barry....you'll always be like a dad to me, and I'm sorry I couldn't hold them off. I'm sorry you'll likely come back to rescue a dead friend.

Cat. I don't know you very well. But while we were next to each other, and not in Solitary....you gave me hope. Thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't hold on to it.

Nicole, thank you for taking care of me even when you don't know me and you weren't supposed to. I'm sorry your efforts were for naught.

Alexis, I'm sorry you failed your mission to bend me to your will. I'm raising you a middle finger and hoping to see you in hell.

Goodbye.

-Luna Adler​

 

[Draugvan]

"Alexis, I'm sorry you failed your mission to bend me to your will. I'm raising you a middle finger and hoping to see you in hell."

-Luna Adler​

XDDDD

 

[noodle]

XDDDD

Had to have a little humor :P

 

[Takumi]

Char: Mishka Braun
Info: oc used for many things (in this case a semi-apocolyptic future/Last of Us AU type of thing)

April 10, XXXX

I don't know why these thing happen to me. It's like I have bad luck. I don't know why Quinn hates me, but I'm starting to suspect it's because I'm friends with Tory. Does he have a crush on her or something? He always glares at me whenever I'm doing something in camp with her! Everytime I try to talk to him or explain he won't listen or something happens in camp that takes our attention away and needs to quickly be dealt with. It's really annoying! I mean, I'm gay as all hell with a partner for Pete's sake!

Maybe he hates the caustic way I speak sometimes? That really isn't my fault, swear. Either way, I need to get going on patrolling duty for the night. We're moving out tomorrow to find a better place to stay, too much activity for our liking. Well, everyone else is jumpy about it, but as long as they're okay I'm content.

Until next time, if I live to see the day.

--Mishka B.

 

[Borkasu Lazer]

Character: Robert H. Ashton
Info: (Retired Professional Pokemon Killer, Currently a Celadon P.I , Realistic Pokemon AU)

October 16th, 1554 N.B, 08:00:51 PM Entry, Voice Recording, Duration: 10 minutes, 56 seconds

You know, today's that time of the year again.

The day where Arceus or whatever god the random Sinnohan priest of the day looks down upon that poor little sod walking in the street and thinks ' Fuck it. I need some entertainment, and I need it now.' Guess it goes to show you that the universe has one quirky sense of sadism. Right now? I think I'm starting to understand why I hated civvies when I wore the beret months ago. But, we'll get to that later.

Today, Lerhner called me up today. Just when I was enjoying a good ol' Unovan Petill Cigar., leaning on my office chair. All the P.I's in Kanto and he calls me. Could be a coincidence. Then, again, it can't be. 3rd time in a month. I'm starting to wonder if he has a fondness for me or if I'm just the only one who doesn't barf at the first sight of his grotesque oily, fat, plumper than a Emboar, face.

It's not that I'm fond of him as well, okay?

So, what was the case this time. Homicides. Again. 5th time this year in Celadon. So much for being the 'civilized' centre of the Indigo League. Wherever there's money and wherever's there's something to fight over, people will be stupid and stab each other to the death. Near the harbor, this time, which was a shake-up in location. I really need to write a note to all serial killers to not do this type of shit in a dark, damp, seedy area that smells worse than the backside of a Muk. Why not do it in bright daylight and in a clean, safe enviroment, say for example, in a restaurant. On the downside, people will witness you, you get arrested straight away and generally, it doesn't turn out good for you but hey!

Makes my life easier. Which is exactly what I need right now.

So, I hypothesized while I walked over in the afternoon, mocha in hand, when suddenly, I heard a commotion down by in the alley. Being the good Samaritan that I was, I rushed down to see what was happening.

And let me tell you, the burden that Indigo puts on ten year old children is disgusting.

It was a trainer fighting with another trainer in the alley. Two Novice's. One of them couldn't control their Charmander and the poor kid got roasted. Literally. Alive. Fun fact. Fire-Pokemon flames are not like regular flames. Instead, they're a caustic mixture of flammable chemicals that stick on your skin and burn at temperatures hot enough to make you never want to think about that temperature again. Thanks to a medic course that I took back in '48, my brain was popping little itty bits of information as I scooped him up in my hands and rushed him to the Poke-Centre.

Like the fact that the kid had 2nd degree burns on his arms.

Like the fact that the kid was probably gonna need a fake-eye.

Like the fact was probably going to be disfigured.

Not if I could fucking help it. So, I went to the pokemon centre. Kid was moaning about in my arms, something about his mommy. As expected. Got to the nurse. Everyone was staring at me, bug-eyed. Couldn't blame them. After all, what's more friggin' strange than seeing a grown bearded man who looks like he belongs in the gutter carrying a burnt boy in his arms?

Unfortunately, the only piece of identification I had was my Ranger I.D card that was on hand. And the Nurse Joy who was at the post today must have held a grudge against people like me. She thought that I'd burnt the kid to a smote, for god's sake! She started fussing up a storm, about mon killers, about how we were brutal savages that needed to go back to the outer forests of Viridian and a whole lot of other nasty things that a bubble-gum haired, genial, nurse wouldn't normally say.

I then started to make my leave. The kid was alright. He was going to feel mighty sore and I was going to go on my own merry business, ignoring the pink-haired bitch that was currently trying to get a rise out of me.

Then, I lost control. I lost control because of some stupid jibe. Some stupid 5 year old, immature jibe that I should have known better than to get pissed at. I still don't understand why it pissed me off as it did. I still don't understand why it made me go ape-shit on that poor nurse for 5 seconds until she looked as if she was ready to piss her pants.

That stupid insult was ' Rangers deserved to die.'

Am I still trying to hold onto some piece of you, Barrett? Am I still trying to defend the actions that we did for the Corps?

I don't know why I still possess some sense of loyalty to the Corps. I retired. I bled. I shed tears. And every veteran gives me a respectful look when I said that I retired.

I deserve retirement.

I can't say sorry to you, Barrett. I let you down. I don't deserve to be a Ranger.

I will never forget you, you old crotchety bastard.

This is Ashton. Out. Stop Recording.

Reminders
1. Check up on Sisyphus and Damascus. Remington says they're more prissy than usual.

2. Call plumbing to repair broken sink.

3. Get that jug of Moo-moo milk as soon as possible.


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