Jen

It's over. It's done. I'm glad. I'm tired, I'm going home and showering and sleeping.

Satoko stirs, hearing the sound of pots and pans in the kitchen. It's not unusual for Rika to be up before she is, but she still feels a little bad about it. More than that, it's the weekend. It's the weekend and there's no reason to be awake this early, is there? She looks around, seeing that Rika's futon has been put away, and she hurries, putting her own away and getting dressed before walking into the kitchen.

"Good morning!" Rika's voice is cheerful, happy, bright, as her friend enters the kitchen. "It's really nice out, so I thought we'd all go out for a picnic later, mii."

"Oh! I was wondering. Well, what can I help you do?"

A little while later, the two girls held a picnic basket between them, walking out to meet their friends - and the world.

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Thanks, sponsors. That was a happy good-morning~
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24 hours, 48 pieces of short fanfic, to benefit the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center. Sponsor me - and email me [jenleigh at gmail dot com] your receipt so I can thank you. Also, prompt me.

Kids, we have now reached the point of this exercise where I have one pre-written fill for later, one 'it's over.' post, and two actual posts to go, this one included.

I've filled the crackiest prompts in my registry, and the peanut gallery here at Team Venture is rather low on spoons - even if one I left here from the last actual Blogathon I did ('08) has found its way back home.

So right now, I'm just going to say thank you. Thank you to sponsors (I will not name names, but know I love you), to prompters, to friends who've pinged me and talked to me and encouraged me through this whole rollercoaster ride.

♥ to you all.

It's late summer, almost fall, and there's a chill in the morning air as the sun comes up over Rokkenjima. The seagulls cry out their good morning, their noise echoing across the island. It echoes up to the small torii shrine, left there by a monk ages ago. No one is sure, exactly, what the monk was trying to seal.

If you look close, though...you'll see that the mirror has been broken.

This morning, the seagulls cry, and the island is there to greet them.

It won't always be like this.

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It's late enough to be early and early enough to be late all at the same time. This is the home stretch, and really, the hardest part of this whole thing.

I say every year, around this time, that I'm absolutely insane for doing this thing. And that would be a correct assessment, given the levels of UTTER CRACK contained in my last two posts. I blame dear friends of mine who gave me terrible, terrible ideas and encouraged me to run with them.

I'm gradually getting shorter with my posts, as I always do around this time.
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24 hours, 48 pieces of short fanfic, to benefit the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center. Sponsor me - and email me [jenleigh at gmail dot com] your receipt so I can thank you. Also, prompt me.

Peaches. They were everywhere.

It wasn't just the kid with the giant peach, though he had started the whole thing. No, it was the kid with the giant peach. And the moon peach girl, and the girl in the wedding dress who claimed to be Wedding Peach, whatever that meant.

More than that? There were two different small females named Momo (though one of them insisted upon capitalizing her name), another that went by 'Momoko' even though her name was something else, the princess, and...

The lemur. Yes. The lemur.

It wouldn't do to eat the glorious giant peach that had begun this peachy-keen migration to this - honestly, the only word for it was a pit. No. Not in the least.

Fortunately, the sky seemed to gently rain peach blossoms and peaches down upon this pretty scene.

Passers-by could only say one thing: "Peaches. Peaches everywhere."

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...this is why I shouldn't let lots and lots of people give me ideas. For, you see, I do them. When it's 5 AM and I haven't slept. Oh, yes.
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24 hours, 48 pieces of short fanfic, to benefit the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center. Sponsor me - and email me [jenleigh at gmail dot com] your receipt so I can thank you. Also, prompt me.

They say trolls only lurk under bridges, and that they look ugly. This is not true. The best trolls wear fancy dresses and often carry parasols. They have pretty blonde hair and they are quite literate. They prefer to act with a bit of caution.

...at least sometimes.

For example, take the pair who are currently working in concert. The blonde with the parasol is working with the blonde in the lovely long black, gold, and crimson dress. Their target? Oh, no one in particular. It might be you. It might be me, the narrator of this tale.

Or it might be that red-haired young man in the dapper suit. That young man is currently trying to figure out why a letter is moving around, just out of reach.

He has yet to figure out how this works.

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...I am in the weird, weird brainspace that comes at 4 AM and with too much caffeine.
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24 hours, 48 pieces of short fanfic, to benefit the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center. Sponsor me - and email me [jenleigh at gmail dot com] your receipt so I can thank you. Also, prompt me.

I apologize, guys. It's 3 AM AND WHEN I TURN MY HEAD TOO FAST THE ROOM SPINS A LITTLE. I swear, I am working on actual real content for the rest of the time.

Also? The word 'gazebo' is hilarious at 3 AM. As are the words 'blubber', 'hobnob', and certain combinations of curse words.

That is all.

As I write this, it's 2 AM. I've made it a long way. But I'm gonna have a little WGBH (or PBS. Or donation-funded radio/television station of your choice) moment, as one of my teammates did earlier.

I know. It's 2 AM. But it's not 2 AM for some of you in other time zones. And so I'd like to just straight-up say it.

This thing isn't easy. It takes more creativity from me than most things do. It takes energy in a way I usually can't muster up.

And so...that little donation link? I've been hesitant to pimp it out. But right now, I am. It's at the bottom of the post. Just shoot me an email with the receipt. Because it's really encouraging to me to see email coming in. Okay?

24 hours, 48 pieces of short fanfic, to benefit the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center. Sponsor me - and email me [jenleigh at gmail dot com] your receipt so I can thank you. Also, prompt me.

"Marisa. Someone from the library actually stopped by this time. They said you're banned if you don't return everything you've got checked out. I handed over the stuff that made its way into my room from yours, but that still leaves..."

Alice looked down over that long list of items that had been borrowed. "42 different books. How the hell they let you check out that many is anyone's guess, but that's their record."

"Didn't they get it the first time?" Marisa positively scowled at the thought. "I told them - "

"They can have them back when I'm dead?" The two magicians said the same thing at the same time. Marisa blinked, looking at Alice with a blank stare.

"It doesn't work like that here. I told you that. Patchouli only lets you get away with it because she knows where to find you and she doesn't even know how many books she's got in there at any given time, since she's always adding to the number."

"...how'd you know that's what I was gonna say? You're not reading my mind, are you?"

"I told you, I can't read minds. But you've really got to return your books."

"I'll get to it."

...some things never changed, Alice supposed.

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Touhou fluff, because I can. (And because it was req'd.)
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24 hours, 48 pieces of short fanfic, to benefit the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center. Sponsor me - and email me [jenleigh at gmail dot com] your receipt so I can thank you. Also, prompt me.

It seems almost cliche to speak with all of you at midnight. Some would call this the ‘witching hour’, the passage from one day to the next. For one such as me, it is merely another hour. I grow so bored of plot twists that always happen at midnight, that it’s more interesting to see the plot change at any other time.

Look at that child. She’s so focused, so intent. Determination...I like it, child of man. I like it quite a bit.

Keep writing. Entertain me a bit more. I’m waiting.

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24 hours, 48 pieces of short fanfic, to benefit the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center. Sponsor me - and email me [jenleigh at gmail dot com] your receipt so I can thank you. Also, prompt me.