⇾ Daily #19 (villain) ⚘

(original villain, warning that death is pretty bluntly talked about :\)

Daya arose like a bird of prey.
At least, that is what will be said of her.
She likes to believe that she rises like the sun. Slow and leisurely, though sure.
Daya dresses like the villain she is told in legend to be. A black gown, as though she were mourning those deaths that she left behind everywhere she'd been. She wore silver dress shoes that clacked like bones on the roughened hardwood floor. She pulled her bloodred hair back in a rigid knot that sat upon her head like a ruler would sit on a dais.
At least, that is what will be said of her.
When she walked down the streets, the people would hook their gazes on her, linger for a moment, before turning away, as if the sight of her would be enough to kill them.
It's not. Daya would tell them that, if they listened. They don't, of course. It's also a common belief that her voice could kill you, though that isn't true either.
She just kills.
She does not mean to. She does not know why.
But sometimes, as Daya says, it's the things you don't understand about yourself that others understand even less.
At least, that's what she would say.
As she walked down the streets on the morning of April the seventeenth, she kept her head forward. She didn't look around at the windows of the shops she passed, because the shopkeepers would have closed up shop the moment she looked in their direction.
They often whispered that a glance from Daya is a glance from death, and would bring bad business for a week, or until they could get their hands on enough turmeric to coat the top of their doorways.
Daya dug her heels into the ground with every step, creating a mark that showed where she'd been. Everyone knew those perfectly square heel marks. They were a sign of death, bad luck, and ominous happenings.
At least, that is what will be said of her.
As she took her early morning walk, a dull ache in her stomach grew stronger, a reminder that she hadn't eaten in days. She longed to sit in a tea room and laugh lightly with other women about trivial things, like gowns or gossip. No one in their right mind would let her in, of course. Arsenic would end up in the tea for sure.
At least, that's what will be said of her.
She pushed the hunger and hurt down and replaced it with coolness. It was an easy feeling, to pretend to be a villain. One only needs to hold their head high, paint their lips red, and square their shoulders.
Of course, the death of a few people adds to the look, though it may be unnecessary if the lipstick is dark enough.
Daya walks a little further, and the smile grows on her face.
She is thinking dear thoughts of death.
At least, that's what will be said of her.

⇾ 502 words ⚘

⇾ weekly #3 ~ (mysteries) ⚘

(weekly runs from 3/18 to 3/24)

⇾ Part One ~ (Plotting) ⚘

⇾ Inciting Incident - Our main character, Adrianamerian (or just Adra) an easily frustrated, last-to-inherit daughter in her father's house, about age eighteen, pulls up a wooden floorboard in her room after she accidentally cracks it when she drops a heavy bag of metal tools. When she pulls it up, she finds a room where rats are eating at scrolls. She picks up one of the scrolls, which has fresh ink on it. Written on it in a language that few understand, Adra learns of a plot to exile her and her family from their homeland, bring them aboard a ship, and maroon them in order to take back ancestral lands of an evil cult. (113)
⇾ Rising action - Adra tries to discuss this with her father, but he brushes her off rather rudely, and her older brothers and older sister advise her to stay quiet, as her father has been under a lot of financial stress as of recently. She agrees to leave it at that with discussing it, but begins to watch the members of the servantry to see if anyone is acting suspicious. At some point, she'll get sick during a dinner and need to stay in her room for the remainder of the night, and at another poin when she revisits the ‘scroll room’, she finds that all of the scrolls have been removed and the rats are dead. (116)
⇾ Climax - Adra realizes that she's been poisoned, and she pretty much questions the head cook at kn!fepoint because… yeah. Everything I write normally ends up with someone at kn!fepoint. Anyway, she questions the head cook, who admits that someone blackmailed them into putting poison into Adra's food. The cook is sobbing. Adra questions them further, and they hand over the bottle of poison and the note that was left. Adra recognizes the handwriting as the one on the scroll, but something catches her eye. It's a dot of sealing wax at the bottom of the note. It's forest green- the color her father uses exclusively in the house on his letters. (112)
⇾ Falling Action- Adra confronts her father, who admits to it, saying he didn't intend to really k!ll her, only to make her sick for a few weeks so that he could exile his family. It turns out that he was the head of the cult after all that time, that he had turned to the cult's false sense of protection in order to stay afloat financially. The cook, who also (conveniently, since deus ex machina is such a weekly thing to do) happens to be Adra's friend, drives him away from the house until he is running for his life on horseback. (101)
⇾ Conclusion - Adra's mother takes over the house, and her family is extremely shaken by this. Her oldest brother, Eldermund (or Mundy, an affectionate nickname), prepares to take up the ownership of the lands and title when he turns 25. Adra begins to work with her siblings to search out the remaining members of the cult. (54)

⇾ word count (496) ⚘

~

⇾ Part Two ~ (Red Herrings/Clues) ⚘

- The poison is from a foreign country, and this makes Adra a little bit suspicious, because one of the cookmaids is a reformed criminal from the country and was a mute, so she couldn't defend herself. Once Adra finds out that she was wrong, Adra feels deeply sorry for jumping to conclusions (hehe I'm actually incorporating themes whoa). (58)
- Adra's father has always been a caring father, and seems very concerned when she first gets sick after the dinner, and he sends up medicine and stuff. The thing is that is that she misinterperets his panic as fatherly affection instead of the worry that he would kill his own daughter instead of just making her extremely sick. So, combined red herring and clue. (64)
- The cook had been acting very strange, and had been avoiding Adra, but it takes a lot of questioning for Adra to realize that the reason that the cook is shaking and scared isn't because she's guilty of the cult-thing but more that she's guilty of poisoning the food. She's also guilty because she saw the rats die when they had the poison. (63)
- The original scrolls that Adra finds are wet and cold. She attributes this to being because of the fresh ink and the snow getting into the flimsy walls of her wing in her father's home. However, she doesn't seem to notice that her father's feet are wet and that he spends much of his day out in the cold and snow, looking for ways to regrow crops in the snow and improve his exports in order to grow his wealth. (80)

⇾ word count (269) ⚘

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⇾ Part Three ~ (interview) ⚘

(my part of the interview with the amazing Nova <3)

Okie! What did you witness on the night of March the twentieth? Hmm… what would you say this person was doing? Were they fighting, dancing, screaming, or just standing there? A unicorn…. curious… curious, indeed. Would you say that the unicorn was also dancing? And could you please describe the dance moves? Flossing, breakdancing, disco, the sprinkler move etc.? (alright, talk to you later ^^ <3) nteresting… what song? Could you please describe his voice for me? Male or female? Loud or soft? Like a devil or an angel? Lovely. I'll talk to my team of lawyers about setting up a city-wide karaoke night, and maybe we can find him through that. We're sorry for the suffering that you and your ears have endured, and we're willing to pay any bills for counseling you may need after that no-doubt horrific experience. Did you ever get a good look at the man or the unicorn? Any defining features? And would you say the unicorn was a criminal accomplice? Wow… just wow. Do you know anything about the thing that this man-unicorn team stole? Oh dear… unicorns are such common distractions these days. Thank you for all your help with this case, and we'll be sure to let you know the verdict. We'll be setting up the karaoke night soon. Hopefully, the unicorn and the man will be behind bars soon, hopefully with gags.

⇾ word count (231) ⚘

~

⇾ Part Four ~ (mystery scene) ⚘

(writing out the opening scene in my mystery)

The metal tools I carried to my room pressed into my back as I lugged the sack over my shoulder over to the little space of floor by my closet.
I was expected to fix my window. Not because we couldn't spare the help of anyone to do it, but because it's supposed to be character-building.
I couldn't wait to build my character by pricking my finger on exposed, rusty nails, thus condemning myself to inevitable death.
With a small yelp of exhaustion, I dropped the sack of tools onto the floor a little bit harder than was really necessary, and a foreboding snapping sound called my attention to the next thing I was going to have to fix once I was through with the window.
“Please no,” I sigh as I push the sack of tools to the side.
The polished wooden floorboards were cracked and splintered from my exhaustion and annoyance. I grimaced and ran my fingers along the broken wood, narrowly missing a few splinters.
I groaned loudly and flopped onto the ground, whining much louder than the situation really warranted.
I leaned forward on my knees, gripping the edges of the floorboard and yanking it up until it became dislodged.
I thought that I would see stone there, the foundation of my second-floor room.
Instead, all I could see was darkness.
I pulled the floorboards up a little further, letting my curiosity grab hold of my senses. I yanked a little more, using the tools that were meant to fix my room in order to destroy it.
I pulled up the floorboard until there was a hole wide enough for me to crawl into whatever was waiting below.
I was a little scared, admittedly. But fear builds character, right? That sounded like something my parents would say to me.
I don't dare to take a candle with me. I would probably drop it and set the whole building on fire.
I sucked in a breath and slipped my feet over the edge of the little hole I had created.
I shut my eyes, buckled my knees, and pushed myself over the edge.
My feet hit the floor first, and I collapsed onto the ground.
The stench of rot filled my nose. I coughed and retched for a moment or two in a way that would have made my brothers laugh and my sisters widen their eyes in shock.
The second thing I noticed was the squeaking- a very specific kind of squeaking. It's the kind of squeaking that only mice make.
I didn't panic at the sound.
I stumbled to my feet as I noticed my feet hitting something.
Something soft.
I coughed for a moment before reaching down and picking up the thing in front of me.
Thankfully, it was a scroll of paper and not anything else that place could've held.
Now, I thought. I have to get out.
“Wonderful,” I said.
I tossed the scroll up until I heard the sound of it landing on the floor above me.
I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the edge of the floorboards above.
Slowly, painstakingly, I pulled myself up.
Naturally, instead of catching my breath, the first thing I did was rip the scroll open so fast that I nearly tore it.
I almost felt a kinship with the scroll for a moment.
It got straight to the point. No other words needed, just say something outright.
It said something chilling.
Lead them to exile.

⇾ word count (583) ⚘

~~~

⇾ total word count (1579) ⚘
⇾ completed on: (3/20) ⚘

⇾ Critique for May <3 ⚘

Alright, the first thing that I have to say is that the line “he gives verb energy” is so purely hilarious, I almost fell on the floor.
I love the description of the way that Augur's father's sanity is like a pulled string. It's wonderful imagery and really just… I don't know, it's just such a great way to describe that.
I think that the sentence {People didn't disappoint him, they weren't worth his thoughts, but it was simply the world that he despised} took me a second to understand because I think it ran on a little long, so if you can find a way to split it up into two sentences or change the wording, that would make it easier to read and wouldn't pull the reader out of the story.
However, I did love the thought of him not hating people but rather the world.
Ok…. The Corpse of Crum is… wow. It's incredible. I can't really explain it, but it just gives me a chill- which is just perfect.
“Small mercies.” That's amazing.
I love the intrigue of him running into the infirmary centre. It immediately ratchets up the action and interest, and it's timed so well in the story that the pacing is just amazing.
I immediately adore the diaglogue in the scene where he's waking up. It's funny, thoughtful, and super interesting. I think that the character voices are so well established- it's incredible. Great job! <3
I think that maybe changing the wording of “the medication talking” to “the medication taking force/taking over/etc”. It just makes more sense to me, but that's just me personally.
I love Augur listing his names. The fact that those are the names he thinks of as he's slowly returning to conciousness is amazing.
I think the wording in the sentence {Hold him tight in its grip, flood him with the cunning that had kept him alive all these years, after his mother fell to her grave and his father succumbed to madness. } could be changed just a little bit. Like the sentence above, it runs a bit long and took me out of the story for just a second.
Your description of him passing out again is really good ^^
And finally, the ending is fantastic. “A warning”. That's some great writing right there, and you should be very proud <3

As a whole, it's an incredible piece. There's only a few places where the wording could be touched up a bit, or you could elaborate on the idea of the mists or how he got those names. But the writing itself is full of amazing description and detail, and the pacing of the story is perfectly timed, making it an amazing read. Thank you so much for letting me read over it <33

470 words

⇾ Critique for Vi ⚘

I love the opening paragraph. It's very eerie and the imagery is just amazing <3
I think that the phrase “glad of my small size” reads a little bit stiffly, and it may feel more natural to do “glad for”, but also, I think that's really more the author's opinion than anything, so you do you of course <3
I love the perspective of first person but referring to ‘you’! I don't know why I l just ove it so much, but it kind of just brings the story closer to the reader, I guess. Fantastic choice of POV! XD
In the line {“Who are you?” you snapped, black eyes harsh and wide and empty like the night sky.} , I think it might work better to add “your” before black eyes- I know it's a very small nitpicky thing XD
{My parents loved me, which was enough, but everybody loved you.} - I love this. I think it adds a great bit of character development in a way I can't put into words (in the best way, of course ^^)
I don't know exactly what you're trying to say when you wrote {The moment was broken glass in my bleeding hands, unable to be pieced back together}, because you've been writing about literal shattered glass, and then you call the moment shattered glass (which makes sense), but once you add in the “bleeding hands”, it becomes a little more unclear of what's real or a metaphor.
{I could not make it past the shards of glass} - that's amazing. I adore that, because it captures the moment and the lingering pain in such a fantastic way <3
(another nitpicky thing I'm so sorry jsdljfhsd) {on scales} - maybe change to just “a scale”? Again, this may be just a me thing, so you make your own choice about what sounds/works better <3
{Everybody loved you, but perhaps I should have told you I was one of them.} - amazing way to end the story <33

I think as a whole, the imagery throughout is stunning, and the character dynamics are so strong, even in just a short amount of words. I'm just stunned with the way that you can characterize so well <3
I think my general, not-line-by-line suggestion would be to explore a little deeper into what it means to “be one of them”.
Besides that (and my ridiculous nit-picks), there's not much else I would say you needed to change! It's an absolutely amazing piece, and I'll be stunned about your characterization skills for days
Great job, vi!! <3

432 words

⇾ Critique List ⚘

⇾ Critique for Alaska
⇾ Critique for Vi
⇾ Critique for May
⇾ Critique for Nova
⇾ Critique for Bella
⇾ Critique for Sandy
⇾ Critique for Rockie
⇾ Critique for Snowy
⇾ Critique for Summer
⇾ Critique for Coco
⇾ Critique for Lark
⇾ Critique for Chuey
⇾ Critique for Mari
⇾ Critique for River

⇾ Daily #21 (poem) ⚘

I found myself in a place most familiar
Where I hadn't yet set foot
I lost myself in a lost man's soul
And found my field-roaming hours booked

My eyes gained a power
That carried my feet through fate
They gave me stone and shield
And a haven I yet await

I know a soldier who hides in dark
I know a diplomat who kept away
I know a innkeeper who wept an aria
I know myself and my new days

And yet my escape bound my head
To the walls that ought to free me
I found reality to be a home I needed
And others to be the place I'd be

I deal the cards in my mind
And placed my bets in my hands
I gamble cities and songs to someone else
They watch my paper-cut birds land

I call to the silver-necked crane
I write to the trapped and chilled songbird
I praise an owl made of wood and willow
I compromise with the one of swords

I stood on the stacks
Because I could not leap
I drank the bitter water
Because they blocked the deep

I called the teardrop-diamonds mine
Until I realized they weren't for soldiers like I
Rather for kings who own homes and towns
And for those who blindly said “they'll try”

But I compromised with my fate
And met myself where I was not
Made an armor of and for my unlived lives
And called upon the words I sought

I called upon those I called me
And they called back to my battle-cry
Their mute songs are scars on my face
Their broken pillars - perfect models of mine

After the fact, I turned elsewhere
I turned to a gray-green time in the past
A blue-gold time in a dully bright future
And turned to something that would last

And though the battles and balls
And journeys and fates kept me free
No one would dare tell you
How lonely castles in the sky can be

⇾ 336 words ⚘

⇾ Daily #22 (pathetic fallacy) ⚘

“Doesn't the sky look lovely today?”
“Don't the trees seem a little kinder this morning?”
“Doesn't the grass just tickle your ankles teasingly?”
“Doesn't it seem like the wind is calling a lazy hello?”
These are little sweet phrases that pass between the mouths of the people on the streets, like bees going from flower to flower. One person says something lovely about the day, and their companion gives them a similar sentiment.
And there you are, surrounded by it all.
They are right, of course.
The sky is just waking up, blue but blushing faintly pink from the sun's early rays.
The trees are caught in the wind, their brand-new leaves twisting and turning and dancing around.
The grass you are lying in is indeed seeming rather playful, tickling your cheeks and making a soft cushion to rest on.
And most of all, the wind is kind and slow this particular morning. It's neither biting nor absent, just present and calm.
You play lightly with the grass blades, running them through your fingers, feeling the last drops of morning's dew leap off the brushing grass and onto your fingertips.
A small collection of clouds makes its way across the sky, almost as lazily and sleepily as your bones feel.
You hear only a few more sounds before you drift to sleep.
A sweet little birdsong from far above.
The teasing trickle of a neighbor's hose left on.
The sound of a child laughing with their older sibling.
The amused noise of a wind chime.
Another one of your neighbors passes, asking a lovely little question-
“Don't you think tomorrow ought to be quite as nice as today?”

⇾ 278 words ⚘

⇾ Critique for Nova ⚘

Hey Nova!! So excited to read over your piece <33
I love the description that's given in just the first three words of the chapter/piece. It's intriguing and full of instant imagery and just altogether amazing.
This is more of a personal stylistic choice (so, as implied, you just do what you think is right for you and your piece <3), but it may look cool to try and do the word “flutter” in lowercase, because the idea of a flutter is a small movement, and I wouldn't normally associate it with big, capital letters (so it would look more like -
f
l
u
t
t
e
r.
)
I love the poem! I especially love the line “ but the trees / they're gone, gone, gone”
Again, this is more of a stylistic opinion, but maybe you could separate the line “my babies. they still need me” into two lines, because dropping a line instantly adds a dramatic effect to what you're saying, and I feel like this is especially applicable here, since the line already adds so much impact.
The line “by routinely habit” feels a little redundant <3
In this line {Ms. Kelley frowned slightly, turning back to look at them, the light from the screen reflecting on the side of her face.} I think it would make more sense in terms of imagery to say “illuminating on the side” . This is just a personal opinion <3
“Just in the few seconds that thought had taken had destroyed 4.5 acres.” - I adore the description here. It's a mind-boggling thought that helps to put it into perspective :>
“the logging machines still greedy for more.” I love this description ^^
“Lumi gasped.” - I might add the description “quietly”, since she likely would have drawn more attention to herself with a loud gasp, and she definitely seems like the quiet type (from what I've read, of course, since I don't have the full story <3)
“staring at her surroundings with fresh eyes” Even more phenomenal description <3

As a whole, it's incredible! I love the poem that begins it, because it already puts the theme of the environment in the forefront of the reader's mind and helps add more thought and empathy.
I think my main critique would be to add more line breaks to add impact, since there are a lot of places that have large blocks of text and a lot of places that are very impactful and deserve their own line <3
I can't wait to see what the main character will do next- I think a lot of people (myself included) know what it's like to see something wrong with the world and they instantly have a desire to do something, all while wondering how others can be indifferent <3
Amazing job, Nova!! <3

⇾ 465 words ⚘

⇾ Cabin Wars II Writing <3 ⚘

Poppy's Thoughts
–
12:47 A.M.

Well, this certainly isn't what I expected. This is… insane. I mean, Balrog has passed thriller through no-doubt host-y means, and now I'm writing like crazy and waiting for my turn on the boss forum. I must look like a wreck to my family. I'm typing faster than ever before and I look like I just finished a marathon and someone just told me there's a 5k just down the road that we should hit up.
Weird way to describe it, I know, but hey, I'm grasping at straws here.

—
1:07 A.M.

Balrog says he wants to eat me…
I'M A POPPY NOT A DWARF I SWEAR
–
(last updated)
–
2:18 A.M.

Just finished my portion of the Balrog story. I thought it was better than what I normally write, so I sent it in for the writing comp, since I'm not normally a fanfic writer and I figured an swc fanfic would be the best I could do.
I'm tired, yeah, but honestly, there's no better way to spend a Friday night (normally, at this point, one of my friends would remind me that Friday night parties are fun, and here, I would loudly disagree).
I don't know why I started this. Maybe it's just a good way to keep track of the chaos that cabin wars is. You know, the usual panic. Just multiplied by two and set on fire.
And our shield is officially down!
–
3:50 A.M.

(test)
—
10:00 P.M.

I am deceased.
Bury me with Swiss Miss hot cocoa mix.





—-
A Random Rant about Downton Abbey

I adore Downton Abbey. I know, I know, it's the first thing anyone makes fun of when they talk about British drama, but I love it.
-
I love so many things about Downton Abbey. I watched it for the first time about a year ago (up until the end of season three, because after that it gets too soap opera ish. Now that my sister is back at home after finishing her religious mission and we're rewatching it. It's so amazing.
I love all the accents. Is that kinda weird? Yeah. Will I still openly admit it? Oh yeah. Like the way that Anna will say “Lay-dee Mare-eh” compared to how other people in the show just say “Ladee Maree”.
I love how dramatic it is. Someone has a tiny rip in their jacket and it's the end of the world. I love it. It's so dumb. I love it.
I love how amazing Maggie Smith is. She's so funny and she's just a brilliant.
Anyway… I can't express it and this rant has already pretty much become ridiculous.
—
A Rant… about …. nothing

Honestly I don't even know what to rant about at this point. I need to edit my writing comp potential entries because they are WHACK and I've gotten such incredible critique on them, but editing isn't a very productive activity when you're trying to get in as many words as possible. Hopefully, I'll be able to edit them tomorrow night and then turn them in, but I'm considering asking for an extension on them because I was traveling for so long and I didn't have access to scratch (or even wifi or electricity) for a while because… that's just my luck. Not the traveling, of course. The electricity.
The first piece that I'm considering isn't very good. I whipped it up in a few hours, and the pacing and the story, in general, feels wrong. The style is alright, but just alright. I've thought a lot about it and it's just not really that good.
The other piece that I've been considering is just a daily, and it's not really a full fleshed out story, more of just a little piece of a much larger story that I would write if I really wanted to. It's very short and just not really my best work.
I don't know what I'll submit. I know I should submit something to at least give the chance of getting some points, but I just never really stress about these things until we get down to the final days of the writing comp.
I can't send out any more wars. So… yeah, that happened.
I don't know how we'll handle the collab war thing. People kept claiming way too far ahead, so there's nothing we can do about that, but we don't even know who's online and who can help out. It's a real mess. I don't even know.
–
I'm really tired and running kind of low on creative juices. Once we finish this war, I may go into the main cabin and request a small war, but I can only stay up so much longer before I start crashing and that really won't be fun, now will it?
We've entered the night stage of cabin wars. Everything is super quiet, not many people are commenting on the main cabin, and it's just kind of the calm in the storm. Which has it's plusses and minuses, of course. I mean, it's quiet so we won't get many wars, but it also means that if we lower the shield, that won't go well, and no one's working on the collab story. Honestly, it's not going tobe that bad if no one finishes the collab story. What can you do.
I'm starting to get tired. That's not good.
It's so hot. That's also not good.
I can feel my mind slipping into philisophical mode. That's also not good.
Thank goodness we're almost done with this war, though. I think we'll be able to get through it without any major kinks. We have plenty of time and everyone's active, so yeah. No big deal.
Ok, only a few more words and we're finished.
I need to edit so so much of my stuff. I should also work on my novel. And read my friend's novels because I'm like six months behind on that and I feel guilty as heck.
I wonder when it's a good time to go to sleep.
Nah, probably never.

–
Random.. Thing ^^

(this may be the worst thing I've ever written oh my gosh-)

Sunlight pours openly through the windows, throwing specks of dust around the room. I put my hand in the beam of light, spreading the sparkling dust flecks everywhere.
I decide to sit down right underneath the spray of light. The dust whirls around me in a little haze, calming me with their littleness.
Small things are peaceful.
I look out the window, the source of the light.
The sequoia tree is dropping leaves, creating a carpet in the front yard.
A little red-and-brown bird hops onto the ground. He's a little thing, no bigger than my pinkie. He pecks at an unseen thing in the ground, before flitting away again across the street to the brown-tiled roof.
(117 words)

–
Writing Dare

(using 15 characters in a story).

Ameliana runs, panting across the field.
Something catches her leg, and she screams and falls over.
It's fire.
Her leg is on fire.
“Ameli!” Esto screams, practically tripping over himself. He's already holding a bucket of water. He was going to use it for drinking water, but thirst is a secondary priority to the burning.
“Are you alright?” Everie yells from across the field.
“She's alright!” James yells back. He has appeared right behind Ameliana.
It had taken only an hour for their little crew to get to the outside of town.
“Come on!” Eli screams from the front of the pack.
“We're trying!” Terra yells, the most temperamental of the group.
“Will you stop screaming so much?” Andrea screams.
“Just come on,” Lilla says peacefully.
“Agreed,” Hannah says. “We need to get as far from town as possible these next twenty-four hours.”
“Because?” says Jerem, who had been asleep for the majority of the planning session. No one could wake him up. Not even Ani, who was practically dragging him along.
“Because they're going to find us,” Jay says.
“And they won't be as merciful as fire,” Winna says gravely.
Ameliana agrees.
She knows how merciful they are.
Dell and Eterni.
They will fight them.
Fire is merciful, Ameliana thinks. We have to rely on it.
—
A soldier is as good as their sword
A man is as good as his word
A singer is as good as their song
A shepard is as good as his herd
—
Describing My Backyard

Little white fluffs poke out of the green, little puffs of things that ought to be pulled up.
But I just pulled weeds a few days ago in the front yard, and I'm too tired to tackle whatever mess the backyard is today.
A few rosebushes are poking out of the little brick-lined hedges, but spring hasn't gone on enough yet for anything to sprout, and besides, the roses in front are much better than the one in the back. A few little yellow flowers peek out of the clover, bright and sunny and tiny.
The fruit tree in the very back of the yard brings back strong memories of when I'd duck behind the tree, sit on a loose piece of concrete and read and pretend to spy on my siblings. There's only a few fruits left on the tree, but they brighten up the backyard even further.
Actually, now that I'm looking at it, I can see one little violet rose next to the window, but you can tell by the look of it that it's on the verge of dropping its petals.
Some grass is poking out of the side yard, with only a few colors of those little yellow flowers to break up the sea of shades of green. The bright reddish brown of the brick lining of the yard breaks up the green, too, but the grass has covered most of the brick.
I want to get a pool.
It's a lovely little place, full of memories of catching roly-polys, making fairy houses, and trying to measure rainfall.
It's just messy and memorable.

⇾ Critique for Bellalalalala <3 ⚘

{The night was dark, black mixing with the navy blues and deep purples of the Milky Way. It was beautiful. }

^ I adore this description!! <33

{This was her favorite time, the quiet of the night brought a little peace to her normally loud and intrusive thoughts.}

Even more amazing description <33 You get a little bit on insight into Meryn's character here and it just… yes XD <3

{veil of womanly meekness and political politeness to show her true self.}

Stop being so amazing Bella sdjfhkdjsfh

{“A penny for your thoughts?” said a warm voice by her elbow.}

….I love him already.

{she scolded herself for not noticing his presence.}

I might add the word ‘earlier’, but that's just me ^^

{“What do you want?” She hissed instead,}

Punctuation issues… XD - “ ”What do you want?“ she hissed instead. ” I think the word ‘instead’ feels a little unnecessary, but if you'd like to keep it there it works just as well ^^

{“I haven’t seen you in months, feels odd.”}

Same thing here- “… seen you in months. Feels odd.”

{Fabian prickled visibly, something she’d rarely seen him do. “Quite the contrary, I’m so used to having to swoop in and save you every couple of weeks from every new danger that it’s become a habit. I’m impressed you managed to keep yourself alive without me there.” he grinned, that reckless renegade smile that made Meryn’s heart flutter. }

I'M IN LOVE

{She coughed, “I can save myself thank you very much. I don’t need a knight in shining armor, I’m quite capable.”
“I’m beginning to think the only thing that keeps you alive is your sheer stubbornness.” He laughed, it was a deep yet musical sound.}

I ADORE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS
I LOVE THE MC
I LOVE THE LOVE INTEREST
I'M IN LOVE, BELLA, I'M IN LOVE

{Fabian quieted, a rare frown creasing his brow. His unruly blonde hair blew into his eyes and she resisted the sudden urge to tuck it back.}

STOP
STOP
STOP
I'M ALREADY DEAD YOU DON'T HAVE TO K!LL ME FURTHER

{Mere minutes passed, although it felt like hours for them both until Meryn finally broke the quiet.}

I might change the wording here to “Only a few minutes had passed, but it felt like hours before Meryn broke the quiet”. It just flows better ^^

{So I used to talk to the stars, it's silly I know,}

Maybe change to- “So I used to talk to the stars. It's silly, I know”, and maybe add her laughing at herself a little? I feel like it's a nice little addition since she's already noting that she knows it sounds silly.

{“I'm naming the stars in the sky after you,” he said, turning to her. His voice was barely above a whisper and that same smile flickered over his lips, as he reached out and took a lock of Meryn’s hair, twisting it around his finger.
She thought she knew better, this was Fabian Thatcher, after all, the lying, sneaking, and clever privateer who was always there when she was at her worst. But she couldn’t stop the feeling of butterflies in her stomach, or the thudding of her heart in her chest. She should have pushed him away, but she couldn’t. Her feet were rooted to the spot. All she could do was stare back into those jewel-like eyes and see herself reflected in them.}

I AM DECEASED

{her eyes wide as her thoughts shuttered to a halt.}

The wording of “shuttered” here feels a little weird…

{His hand strayed to her cheek, where he traced the line of her stubborn jaw. The survival instincts in Meryn that had kept her alive and sane throughout her life were screaming at her to pull away. This won’t end well, they told her. He’ll leave you high and dry back on land, take his reward, and leave. I’ll never see him again. This is a game to him. }

BELLA YOU KILLED ME
HOW COULD YOU
I'M A SOBBING DEAD MESS ON THE FLOOR

{Haven't you always craved a true adventure? }

(ok I swear I'll get through this part without screaming)

I adore the character development in this sentence. It helps add so much to their story and I… it's just amazing <3

{same silly grin reflected on the other's face.}

Hehehehehehehehe <3

{These guys are so cute I'm just gonna use them in a ton of dailies lol}

YES DO IT

As a whole, it's full of great description. My only real nitpick is that the pacing feels kind of wrong. If there's a way to lengthen the piece and give a little more time or conversation or backstory before they start embracing, I think it would enhance the reader's experience a little more.
But also…
AGH I LOVE IT
“Penny for your thoughts?” is amazing
Anyway I'll be making my way to the graveyard now - see you there ^^

(318 words of critique)

⇾ Daily #24 (hobbit hole) ⚘

(just going to quickly note how adorable this daily is <3)

If you’ll place your hand on the knob, give it a turn, and press a little, the first thing you'll want to notice is the way the door squeaks merrily.
It isn’t a screeching, rude sort of sound, rather, it seems like even the door is pleased to say hello to you.
The second thing you’re likely to notice is the way that the walls are covered in trinkets. Landscape paintings, hung instruments, and even a few documents pinned to the forest-green walls. Shelves seem to be on every wall, holding every kind of story imaginable. Science, history, legends, maybe even a mystery or two- for what is a good home without a little intrigue here and there?
Which, of course, means you certainly won’t notice the passages that weave between rooms willy-nilly.
The third thing you’ll notice is the way that the being in the center of it all seems to be doing a hundred little things at once.
She is sitting at a small table, singing to herself quietly, scribbling notes on a piece of parchment, all while taking a rest between lines of a song to take long drinks of her hot cocoa.
A shocking amount of hot cocoa.
You may notice the way that the kitchen has newspapers and books strewn about, for it is the owner's philosophy that there ought to be a little reading material in every room, even when one is taking a meal.
Light streams in a little window, sending specks of dust here and there. They twist and turn and spin about for a moment or two before finding a new place to rest, at least, until the next morning comes and the sun disturbs their peace again.
It manages to be a place of calm, even as the owner seems to change rooms and activities every few minutes, twiddling away on a piano one minute, reading the next, and maybe knitting a while later.
The house is a friendly little place to be.
It's strange, though.
Many a time, this house would inspire a feeling of home.
Not that the feeling of home is bad, it's simply not the word the owner would apply to their little abode.
Home is a place of rest.
This place, however, is a place for adventures.
There's a violin, isn't there? A piano? A harp?
There are books, aren't there? Paper? Pens?
Could you call a home a place of rest, when the best journies of life are taken there?
Home is where life happens.
And life is a journey in and of itself.

⇾ 430 words ⚘

⇾ Critique for Sandy ⚘

Hey Sandy! I'm just going to go ahead and jump right into line-by-line notes ^^

{seldom stopping, always talking, never letting go of their heightened anxieties. }

First things first, this is incredible. I love the rhythm of this sentence and how well the tension is displayed in it. Absolutely amazing right off the bat ^^

{The Crimson Wanderer is tired of it all, truth be told}

You used the phrase ‘truth be told’ earlier on in the piece (the paragraph before, I believe), so if the repetition bothers you, you can change that, but I know that the whole repetition thing bothers some and not others <3

{He breaks off as he fidgets with his keys.}

I might add change it to “his voice breaks off as he fidgets”, because when it says ‘breaks off’, my first thought is him breaking off from the Crimson Wanderer, perhaps to join another conversation. Just for clarification's sake ^^

{He has to say the right thing to his dear friend, if he were to have any hope of stopping what will come.}

I love this- it develops the character well and adds hints of intrigue ^^

{It has never happened yet in this loop.}

Ooh, intriguing :00 This is less of a suggestion more than just a question, but I think this is such a cool, intriguing sentence, that it may be fun to play with wording to see if something flows differently rhythmically, such as ‘it has not yet happened in this loop’ or something else. I know that's so small and nitpicky, but nitpicking is the best I can give when the piece is so amazing already <3

{And so everyone stews within the Gate, their inactivity in the grand scheme of things ever clear in their minds.}

I love this :0

{“Truth to be told, one reality disintegrating does not really matter to me,” Kei’ says, voice taking on a trace of boredom.}

Again with the ‘truth be told’ ;D We all have things like that- don't worry ^^

{“I’ve heard enough about my arrogance.”}

This is amazing- such great character building, wonderfully written, and it says a lot in few words. It's amazing <3

{That is the Crimson Wanderer’s last thought as existence ebbs and fades around him.}

'Ebbs and fades around him'. Excellent word choice and imagery <3

{“Do you want to know my mistake? My mistake was that I realized I was the puppeteer far too late.”}

This is a personal opinion, but it may be cool to add a pause between these two sentences, since it adds a level of emphasis and tension that can enhance the piece even further ^^

{“You truly impress me, Claudius, for better or for worse.”}

Like I said earlier, it may be interesting to play with this line rhythmically, such as “Claudius…you truly impress me, for better or worse.”

{the Backrooms continue with their existence just as the two friends of the Court continue with theirs.}

Absolutely amazing way to end this!

As a whole, it's a really great piece, with a lot of intrigue and tension. My only suggestion would be to play with the wording and rhythm of certain lines - great job, Sandy!! <3

⇾ 359 words ⚘

⇾ Critique for Snowy ⚘

My first thought is how lovely the title is. It's the first thing that draws the reader in, and it just has such a poetic ring to it and it instantly sets the tone for the piece, even before you read the first few words.

And, off I go for the line-by-line critique! <3

{Knock, knock}

I love the way that this starts. Knock-knock is usually the start of a joke, but in this context it's used in such an unsettling way that's just chilling in the best way possible. It's an incredible start <3

{Silence is the thing that buries into your soul and rattles you.}

I think that the description here is great, but I have a small nitpick about the word choice (and mind you, nitpicking is what the majority of this critique is because it's already so well-done). I think maybe changing buries to burrows sounds like a more active verb, since normally I think of something (such as a ghost) burrowing into something rather than burying itself into something. However, I think that the idea of burying also hints further at the idea of death and ghosts, so I think it's sort of a choice of what you want this particular part to say ^^

{They have the keys to the doors of your mind. More so than you, anyway.}

I love this and the mood it gives. It's unsettling and helps add so much to the character of the narrator.

{hiding - found again}

You have such a talent to portray so much emotion and meaning in so few words, and it's such an amazing skill for a writer to possess, and this is especially clear right here ^^

{They've learned how to see you even when you run from them, to hide, to get away.}

I think that the way that this sentence is written reads in a strange way, just given the pauses and commas. I think maybe splitting it into multiple sentences or even changing the punctuation may help with the rhythm (I am incredibly weird about rhythmic writing, so I am extremely sorry for my nit-picking about pauses and word-length in advance ^^')

{Anybody. Anything is better than nobody.}

…oh my gosh. I think I physically felt the pain of that sentence.
I have nothing else to say about this except for ‘wow’.

{…there's a certain comfort that comes with it.}

I think maybe changing ‘it’ to them, because when you take out the part that says ‘things of the kingdom long gone’, it just works differently, both grammatically and poetically (in my opinion, of course ^^)

{a palace for the liars}

I loved the entirety of this section. The formatting adds so much meaning, and it's just wonderfully written. It's got a lot of emotion and pain in it, and it's just a wonderful addition to an already incredible piece.

{hang their coats at the side}

I think that, while I understand for the most part what you're trying to say here, I think clarifying a little further would help build even more imagery and add to the piece's meaning and tone <3

{they know this maze far better than you}

I don't know how you do it. You manage to put into words so many indescribable things. It's amazing. I'm just blown away, Snowy.

{and pretend the…}

I'm not quite sure what you're trying to say here with the sentence that gets cut off (or if it was just a formatting/scratch-uploading issue)… could you clarify?

{don't you don't you don't you don't you}

I love the repetition, the simple wording, and the formatting. It's incredible.

{their reliable goodness?}

…amazing. That's all I have to say.

—

This is an amazing piece. It's so poetic, and the formatting (both the words' placements, the italics, and the strikethroughs) adds so much to the piece. I think that the main advice would just be to clarify and maybe add a little more imagery.
It's so wonderfully written, and I feel so lucky that I had the chance to read this <33

⇾ 583 words ⚘

⇾ Critique for Rockie ⚘

Hey Rockie! <3

Well, I can tell just by the title that I'm in for a treat. TLGAD is such a great song to draw inspiration from ^^

{rebekah sighed, watching the blur of quaint towns and lazy fields pass by her window.}

I love this opening and the description. I think that it immediately gives off the vibes of the beginning of the song and also the idea of quietly observing the landscape through a moving window. I can also so easily picture her sighing quietly to herself on the train. Absolutely incredible start <3

{closing her eyes lazily}

You used the word ‘lazy’ earlier on in the paragraph (see above ^^), and you say it again here. I know that repetition bothers some and not others, so just make your own call about if you want to switch to a synonym like passively, idly, or languidly.

{warm sunlight reach through the glass}

I love the imagery of ‘arms’ of sunlight reaching out to the mc <3

{along her merry way, she passed tiny, charming houses, freckled, free-spirited children, and spotted dogs with pink tongues, saying hello to each and every one.}

While the extra adjectives help to provide imagery, I think that it may be coming at the cost of the line reading in a clearer way. I think that just the sheer number of commas and such makes it a bit harder to get into the flow that the rest of the piece has.

{his diamond watch gleaming on his wrist.}

It may sound nice to change the wording to 'a diamond watch', since it avoids the repetition of ‘his’.

{ “hello,” she said, drawing closer. “good afternoon,” he responded, casually leaning against the brick wall of the café. playing with the leaves of a nearby tree, he plucked a plump, white flower from the branch and offered it to rebekah playfully. “a flower for the pretty lady?”
she smiled, taking it and placing it behind her ear. }

Everything about this. Everything. I feel like the imagery is so clear, the character-building already nicely in place, and the vibes are perfect. It feels folklorian. The way that she draws closer and smiles just gives the reader such insight into her head, even just with those small, non-verbal cues.

{“exactly!” rebekah replied. “i think you’ve got it, dearie.”}

I have very little to say about this part besides ‘ohohoho’ ;D

{autumn leaves from nearby trees scattering the aisle and tangling in rebekah’s veil}

I adore this imagery <3

{daffodils (the bride’s favorite flower)}

I don't know if you checked out alba's flower symbolism list, but I love that these symbolize conceit ^^ If that's not a coincidence, that's incredible attention to detail, and if it's not, than it's fantastic nonetheless!

{our town has ever seen?” }

♬ I think I've heard this lyric before … ♬

{“do you all know that charming house back home on watch hill, the beautiful one overlooking the ocean? well, bill and i have bought it! and just for all of you, we’ll be having a housewarming party next week in our newly-dubbed ‘holiday house!’’ }

This is a very small suggestion, more based on my own opinion than anything else <3 I think it may be fun to place a dramatic pause in there- it just seems like something Rebekah would do. ^^

{her reputation thus far was one of barely-disguised wildness, and a raucous party would put her in the history books forever as the maddest woman the town had ever seen.}

I'm smiling so hard right now -

{let the libations flow freely}

I love the way this is worded. It reads like poetry.

{“this rebekah harkness character… i think i like her!”}

I feel like the word ‘character’ feels a little unnecessary in this sentence (so nitpicky, I know ^^')

{then she turned her back on her lover as they carried the body away, but never turned her back on his name}

Love this! ^^

{“ooh, rebekah’s probably getting all the money!”}

Another little nit-pick, but the ooh here feels a little unnatural, because I feel like they would be grumbling rather than ooh-ing over this kind of news.

rebekah harkness had filled her entire pool with champagne.

Such a small thing, but I love that this gets its own line. It feels like an echo of the thoughts of the partygoers, and it just works so well.

{and she responded by dying one of their cats bright green!”}

Another nitpick! ^^' the word ‘responded’ feels a little stiff in the usual chitter-chatter flow of the conversation.

{…passed onto another great, wild, blonde musician: taylor alison swift.

—

taylor swift has owned holiday house…}

This is my own personal opinion, but I think it may work better to seperate these two parts, not just with line, but perhaps with a different quote box, since one reads more like a story, and the other reads like an author's note. Again, just my personal opinion, so you do what's right for you <3

The piece as a whole is amazing. It's just full of creative imagery, and like I said earlier, it has moments that sound like poetry. As you can see, most of my critique is just small little things when it comes to rhythm and flow. It's a wonderful piece with all the wonderful description and folklore-vibes as the cherry on top <3

⇾ 591 words ⚘

⇾ Critique for Summer ⚘

Hey Summer! <3

{Mom’s stupid egg timer fills the awkward silence at the dinner table.}

Firstly, I love this opening. It immediately sets the scene in such a great way. I might suggest changing “Mom's” to “the”. I don't really know how to explain it, but it just sounds better to me. It's a small thing, though ^^

{“Oh- I… well, I just thought… sorry.”}

I love the stammering! It adds a lot of emotion and depth already.

{“And why do you care? The whole world’ll go up in smoke in…” he glances at the egg timer, “two hours and twenty-five minutes.”}

I love this line so much :0

{…she mocks, and Riley glares.}

I think it might sound better to split this into two sentences, since the line of dialogue is long enough already without adding the separate idea of Riley glaring.

{His voice is pained, and his head drops into his hands.}

I love the emotion and depth of their father- the way that he seems almost exhausted by the end of his life. I think it's a very realistic reaction that people would have to the idea of inevitable death, and it's brilliantly written.

{It’s been years since they all sat in this room together, and they can’t even hold a conversation.}

I think it might be interesting to add a line drop before this, since it's such a powerful moment that kind of hits the nail on the head, so to speak, and adding it in a seperate line adds some extra emphasis that it deserves ^^

{Silence settles like a fog once again}

I love the continued imagery of fog and smoke <3

{Mom returns with dinner. Chicken casserole.
“That… smells really good,” says Ellen reluctantly.
Mom offers a small smile. }

This is incredibly touching <33 Amazing job, summer <3

{No one is eager to finish their last meal.}

This line… is… it's just amazing. I have nothing else to say besides that XD

{She returns with the dusty box. Their last game together was long ago, long before their last meal.}

This may have just been my very tired mind mixing things up, but my first thought was about the current meal they were having when you said “last meal”, so I think if you want to clarify that (and you totally don't have to- like I said, I'm very tired and also working on this in between math problems XD), you could change it to something like “their last game together was long ago, ages before the last meal that they'd shared together”.

{It’s been a long time, but no one will ever forget their piece.}

…if scratch would let me use the “smiling-face-holding-back-tears” emoji, I totally would. <33

{Suddenly, there’s a flicker, and everything goes black. Someone screams.}

This even gave me a bit of a start. It's a great interruption from the quiet of the game, and it's just a moment of fear in all of the unsettling normalcy. Amazing job ^^

{The blood-red sun is setting, and the room is tinged crimson in its glow. Everyone stares in sad fascination at the color. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t heralding extinction.}

This description :0

{“I’m buying boardwalk.”}

This is maybe just a personal thing, but maybe capitalize the B? I don't know XD

{“For what? I don’t think there’s anything to save for at this point, Mom,” Ellen snaps, but her voice is tired, and more truthful than bitter.}

Ouch :0 That's wonderfully written, summer ^^

{That’s all this family has ever done for him. Present opportunities, then snatch them away. Maybe they’ve been trying to support him. But it doesn’t feel that way when your sister gets into the college you’ve been working towards for years, and all you get is a “tough luck.” Then she flubs it, but you’re already stuck with stocks. Typical.}

I love the background and context. It doesn't feel rambly or plot-dump-ing at all, which is a hard thing to do <3

The ending - all of it- is amazing. The tension is so well done, and it's just… it's brilliant, summer. The emotion and pace of it are perfect. It's just amazing.

{“Everyone, hold hands. No matter what happens, we’re together.” Mom’s face is pale.}

I think it might help the emotion of the piece to add a couple of pauses (…) and maybe some stammering here (or just a bit more description in general) just to add a bit more depth <3

{The alarms grow louder and more incessant.}

I adore this. The description of the sounds makes it so tense and anxious, and the fact that it comes right before the end of the piece is great.

{ – I can't quote the entire end of the piece for length's sake, but if I could I would here – }

The ending… it's so great <3


Honestly, I couldn't find much wrong with this. It's just a few things about description and emphasis. It's such a touching, sweet piece, and the way that you build tension throughout is masterful. It's an incredible story, and it's a great piece to enter in the comp <3

⇾ 540 words ⚘

⇾ Daily #26 (flipped protag/antag) ⚘

I cannot tell him.
I cannot tell them.

Severus had lived his life with loud thoughts. They pounded at his mind, drove him to near insanity only to quiet and later drag him back to the world of the sane just so they could do it all over again.
How would he tell Harry?
How would he tell Dumbledore?
I must.
I must not.
I must choose.
“Choose”. What a nasty, thoughtless word, as though making choices was a simple thing.
Everyone made choices. He had made his. Lily had made hers. His parents had made a choice- a stupid, reckless choice.
Fate had made its choice.
Life had made its choice
He had to make his once more.
Potter was weak, pretentious, everything his father had been. Being the Chosen One made it worse. It made him believe that a grand destiny awaited him at every turn. It made him think himself brave.
He knows nothing of bravery, came the shouted thoughts.
Neither do you, thought Snape, yelling back at his own thoughts. Perhaps he truly was mad. You don't have the courage to tell them the truth.
Would anyone believe him, one so shrouded in mystery? He hid everything. He hid scars behind long black robes. He hid hurt behind poisonous words.
He hid his own lightning scar behind stringy black hair.
He hid his status as the Chosen One behind a child.
The real Chosen One.
Severus was being a coward. He knew that. Only a coward would watch for years as little Potter paraded around, pretending to be so burdened with something so heavy.
Severus would not deny the boy was burdened.
He was burdened with a lie.
He'll be burdened further when he finds out the truth.

⇾ 302 words ⚘

⇾ Daily #27 (Google translate) ⚘

(you know I think this may be the daily where I stop trying to be poetic and I just embrace the chaos)

The first thing I notice as we begin our morning walk is how the dew sits lovingly on the grass blades.
He reaches into the picnic basket slung on his arm. “Scone?” he asks, his face lit up.
“Nah,” I say. “Not hungry.”
The light plays on his smile, looking like he has a thousand teeth rather than the usual 28 or so. He's a bit like a tooth himself sometimes- always shiny and biting.
We walk further. I started to get a little hungrier, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I felt a little disappointed in Past Self, who didn't accept the scone earlier.
We walk for years. Or, at least it felt like that. Maybe an hour in actuality.
I look at him and ponder on everything he is for a moment or two. He's at that age where he's serious in all things while also being hopelessly dramatic in them too. It's annoying, sometimes, but endearing as well.
We continue on, two souls, two bodies, walking in tandem.
“It's getting hotter,” he says. “Summer's coming.”
“You're right,” I say. “When we meet up again next week it'll be blazing probably.”
He completely ignores this comment and hops to another topic. “It smells like pesticide out here.” His nose wrinkles. “Let's go home.”
“We've barely gotten out here!” I complain.
“But then we could take a nap! I'm tired!” he yells.
“I'm not sleeping,” I said with determination.
“How come?”
“I… know nothing about the stars.”
“Hum, now what's that supposed to mean?”
I sigh. “It means I stay up all night trying to understand astrology.”
“Whatever,” he says, clearly annoyed. “You can still see stars in the morning when you aren't asleep.”
“Sometimes,” I say, “I can't tell if you're even awake on these walks.”
“I don't know, but it's good for the food, these walks,” he says. “It helps the meat cool slightly so we can eat it.”
The hours-long walk continues on. His hands are shaking as he holds the picnic basket for whatever reason, but he refuses to be careful and give it me. He sprinkles some of the water from a bottle onto the grass along the path, feeding the world. I think of how it was the same last week, this week, and it will be the same next week.
Suddenly, I stop dead in my tracks.
A demon stands before me.
“Is everything alright?”
With a shaking finger, I point at the cow before us.
“Jeez, just walk around it,” he says, grabbing my hand and yanking me away from the black-hearted villainous lump of living beef.
Once we avert that little (or not so little) crisis, he begins snacking on the pork.
“Stop,” I say. “We'll have none left.”
“But I like it!”
“Too bad!”
At this point, I'm starting to think he was right about going home. I'm absolutely exhausted and it's not getting any cooler.
He starts discussing his contract for his dorm room, how it's an annual thing (which he did not clarify what that meant) and how it was weird. I didn't listen until he started giving a philosophical discussion about how “we are all, at our cores, flowers waiting for rain in the desert”.
He switches topics again, talking about his student loan.
“If I call during the day, all they do is ask me what kind of loan I'm looking for!”
“How annoying,” I mumble half-heartedly. “Eat your lamb.”
“You know, what you just said vaguely reminds me of something Confucius once said…”
I lean against the grass and go to sleep.

⇾ 601 words ⚘

⇾ weekly #4 ~ (story stew) ⚘

(weekly runs from 3/24 to 3/31)

⇾ Part One ~ (outline) ⚘

Ordinary World: Lanae (nickname Lea) is widely considered to be one of the most talented “magistics” in the world. People come from all over to see Lea’s incredible skills in “magiart” (magic) on the streets.
There’s a catch.
Lea has never performed a single act of magiart in her life.
She’s a fraud. ✓
Call To Adventure : When she receives a note that says that she will be blackmailed if she doesn't do exactly what the note says. The tells her that she must use her skills of illusion and trickery to lure in a wealthy nobleman before stealing the entirety of his fortune - or rather, a highly valuable nationally important document hidden in the vaults of the nobleman's home. She is instructed that she will meet someone at the house - a servant - who will help her complete the task before taking the document and leaving her with the assurances of her secret being kept. ✓
Refusal of the Call : Reluctantly, she accepts. ✓
Meeting the Mentor/Crossing the Threshold : Lea meets Eo, a criminal (about two years older than her) who has been working as a footman in this nobleman's house for three years. Lea begins to see the prep that has gone into this, and though Eo talks to her, he doesn't reveal anything about who he's working with. ✓
Tests, Alliances, Enemies : She makes friends and enemies within the house, using her ‘talents’ to amuse the nobleman and his family. She gains a knowledge of the house and the document. ✓
Approach to Innermost Cave : In the wee hours of the morning, Eo wakes her up to tell her that they will steal the document that night. ✓
Ordeal: They steal the document, but are caught sneaking out. Eo tells her to use magiart to get them out. This reveals that Eo didn't know she didn't possess those talents. She manages to escape with the document, but she leaves Eo.
Road Back: She begins to travel to drop the document off somewhere else.
Resurrection : She goes back and rescues Eo.
Return to Ordinary World : Gives the document, is rewarded, she and Eo part. One day as she's performing, she sees Eo in the streets, looking expectant, leaving questions about a potential second job.

⇾ word count (380) ⚘

~

⇾ Part Two ~ (Exposition) ⚘

The fire near my cheeks shines in my eyes, but I can't squint to block out the light.
It would ruin the effect, after all.
The fire whips around me for a moment longer, until I clap my hands, triggering the little nozzles attached to my wrists with steel bracelets. They lead to a small leather container of water hidden in my billowing cloak. I put out the fire quickly.
I raise my hands above my head like a saint in some ancient frieze.
The crowd cheers. A few small children are jumping up and down. Someone is crying.
That's a little much, comes the irritated voice in my head, but I silence my thoughts and smile a little bit harder.
I curtsy low, my head nearly touching my knees. Someone cries my name. Their accent sounds vaguely Eastern. I must have gained further acclaim to be heard of from such distant areas.
I curtsy one last time before “disappearing” into the inn behind me, where a warm bath and a good night's rest awaits my weary body.
Sure, magiart is hard.
Faking it is much harder.

⇾ word count (189) ⚘

~

⇾ Part Three ~ (Story Stew!) ⚘

Elements to include ~

• Flashback ✓
  

• Open Ending
  

• Symbol (fire) (because it's definitely not like I've used that symbol like thirty times this session) ✓
  

• Cliffhanger ✓
  

• Plot Twist
  

⇾ word count (n/a) ⚘

~

⇾ Part Four ~ (1000 Story) ⚘

(good pacing? what's that?)

I wake up slowly the next morning. The first thing I see is the smoke hovering just outside my window.
The winter is drawing ever closer, and the wealthy have begun starting their fires as others hide in their hovels, huddling for warmth.
Even now, a figure stands outside, their arms wrapped around themselves. They're looking longingly at the smoke coming from the chimney of the third floor room in the inn I'm staying in for the week.
After a second of staring blankly out the window for another moment or two, I realize what the lone figure seems to be looking at is me.
I have a sudden feeling of deja vu. The feeling is so striking that I have to rest my fingers on the windowsill for a moment, just to make a little connection with reality, enough to keep me from losing my breath.
The way they stared at my bedroom window when they came to kick us out.
The way my cousin wept when the door shut for the last time.
The way that she wept for so long that I couldn't bear to be on the streets with them anymore.
I pause.
The way I abandoned them.
I figure I've been staring back at the person on the streets long enough.
Perhaps they have pleasant something to say, I think to myself almost sarcastically.
Might as well talk to them, I think. I've thrown out all semblance of common sense this morning, it seems. Perhaps the unending flow of smoke has gotten to my brain.
I throw on a coat - not the thick wool monstrosity I use to impress the passersbys on the streets - and slip down the stairs out into the cobblestone streets.
The man is gone.
Figures.
In his place is a slip of paper marked in delicate navy blue. Lea - Magiart, Resident of the Hare and Hearth Inn on the Terraloan Street, it reads.
I hold the note against my chest and walk upstairs, back to my room.
I've had letters written to me before. Men just barely climbing the social ladder, needing entertainment at their lavish parties.
I love being of use. Especially when they pay handsomely.
I grab a penknife and break the seal. The letter that pokes out from underneath is certainly not an invitation or even the occasional fan letter. It's too long for that.
Lanae,
I'm already grimacing. Lanae was my aunt's name. Lea was shorter, sweeter, and was an easy name to remember in order for my ‘skills’ to get around by word of mouth. I allow myself a short eye-roll before returning my focus to the letter.
We have a proposition for you.
Interesting.
We know that you are no magistic.
I choke. That got me.
No one could know. If one rumor gets out, just one, doubt immediately begins to spread. My name goes down in flames. The bills would pile up.
We need someone to have a temporary residence in a nobleman's house whilst providing quality entertainment, enough that the head of house would hesitate before even thinking of firing you. Should you accept, your secret is kept under wraps, and you'll be left with enough money to satisfy your usual month's earnings. Should you refuse, we will act accordingly.
I draw my coat around me tighter.
Given that which is at stake, we will expect you at Lord Baethan's home the day after next, at four o' clock promptly. One of our associates will meet you there.
Further instructions will be given then.
Yours,
~~~~~
It's the dashes at the end that taunt me most.
As you may expect, I arrived at the Baethan Manor soon thereafter.
The same figure stands there.
“Welcome to the Manor, Lanae. We're pleased you've joined us.”
–
After a minute or two of silently walking the grounds, the figure finally pulls down his hood to reveal a face that seems to say he's only a bit older than me. His eyes, hair, and skin are all different shades of brown, and a pleasant little smile hangs on his mouth.
“Eo,” he says. I shake his hand stiffly.
“Lea.”
“Not Lanae?”
"Call me that again and I'll make sure you never call me anything again.“
He just smiles at that and walks on until we reach a staircase leading to what looks like a basement.
”Servants' quarters.“
I nod, though confused.
”Here's what's going to happen,“ he says. ”I'm going to walk in there, claiming you're my sister, a magistic, and you're looking for work as an entertainer.“
”We don't look very much like siblings,“ I point out. I'm extremely pale, and my green eyes and heart-shaped face make it even more clear that the two of us don't share the same parents.
”Cousins, then,“ he says.
”After that?“
”You entertain.“
”That's what you're blackmailing me for?“ I say, my eyebrow raised.
”Blackmail?“ he says, confused.
I roll my eyes. ”Never mind.“
”Now, let's get you started. There's more to the job than you'd think.“
”Enlighten me.“
He doesn't seem to detect the sarcasm in my voice, because his expression doesn't change at all from its usual cool amusement.
He stops and turns to me, lowering his voice. ”There's a document hidden in the vaults here. We located it. It's worth an incredible amount if we can ransom it. Someone's gotta steal it. We need someone who is able to move about the house freely, but is able to use magic or entertainment or something of the like. We need you."
Lovely.
I sigh. “Fine. Where do we start?”
He grins. “Let's introduce you to the staff, and our honorable employer, Lord Baethan.”
–
At least Lord Baethan is nice enough.
Eo told me to perform one of my acts for him, so he would be impressed enough to hire me as a full-time entertainer.
The aging man took one look at the fire routine and practically threw money at me.
And thus, I took on employment for the first time in my life.
I sleep in the same room as a maid named Aeli. She was there for my little performance too and now believes I'm a fire witch. Ever since I moved in, she's begun wearing a lava rock around her neck and clutches it every time I walk in a room. She also has taken to throwing me dirty looks every time I eat anything, as if I'm polluting it with my “palms of dastardly acts”.
It's a lovely working position.
Eo eats breakfast with me every morning. He's working as a footman, and makes it a habit to try and do something ridiculous every time I walk into a room.
It lightens the mood a bit. He still won't tell me who he works for, just that the ‘job’ is drawing ever closer.
He means stealing.
Every day, once I finish my morning entertainment for his Lordship's breakfast group, I am free to wander the manor as I wish. It only takes a week or two to find the room where the document is. It's clearly labelled. Excellent security measures, if I do say so myself. After that, I just wander to get an idea of escape routes.
Eo sometimes comes with me.
We have fun, I guess. He's smart. I'm sarcastic. He listens to my endless chatter about the horrors of my bunkmate, as he complains about the mindlessness of being a footman.
We're friends, in a way.
That doesn't change the fact that he - or rather, whoever he's working for - blackmailed me into this.
But we seem to get along alright.
At least, until he wakes me up at four a.m.
“Lanae!” he whispers.
Calling me that wakes me up real quick. I grab my pillow and whack him over the head.
“Ouch!” he yelps quietly. “What was that for?”
“You woke me up!” I say. “Not to mention, you shouldn't even be here!” I'm trying to keep my voice lowered so as to not wake my roommate up, but it's hard.
“Relax, I'm going to be here for two seconds, then I'm history.”
If only.
“What do you want?”
“We're getting the document tonight. Nine o'clock, once dinner is done. Meet me in the wine cellar. See you then,” he says.
My eyes widen, but before I can add anything, he's out of the room.
I rub my eyes, wondering if I dreamed the entire conversation.
But given the pointed looks he gives me for the rest of the day, I discern that it couldn't be the case.
–
Night falls quickly. His Lordship has friends over for a dinner party tonight, meaning he needs his entertainer for a few hours. I purposefully speed through the act before ducking out quickly. I offer my apologies to His Lordship, playing at illness. He doesn't even bat an eye at me, even though I'm a terrible liar.
At least, when I'm lying with my words.
I slip out of his drawing room and practically fall down the stairs to the wine cellar. Eo is already waiting there, grasping a set of tools.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod, and together we quietly slip through the corridors until we reach the room. I try the door.
“It's locked,” I say.
He grins and pulls a corkscrew-shaped thing from the pack on his back. He slips it into the lock, and the door opens within seconds. I give him a nod of respect and tiptoe into the room.
The document- which Eo called The Rites of Elsier- stands on a pedestal in the dark. It's supposedly a great political document. I don't care. It's my way to pay the bills until I can move to a bigger city.
I look for a place to safely store it. I can't find anything, so I shove it up my sleeve.
“Got it?” Eo asks. I nod. “Let's go.”
We turn, only to face His Lordship.
And his fleet of guards.
“Give it to me,” he says.
Did he sound that loud before? I suddenly cannot remember a louder sound in the world.
Eo turns to me. “Do something!”
“Do what?” I yell back. The soldiers are coming at us slowly, clearly worried about damaging the document.
“Magiart, or something!”
“I can't do magiart- you know that!” I yell back.
His Lordship pauses. Eo pauses. His eyes are filled with betrayal.
“You can't?”
“No one told you?”
My head spins until it hurts.
“No.” His answer is soft.
I let out a shaky breath before pulling the document out of my sleeve, turning around, and opening the window behind me.
I jump out.
There's a small scream, but I've already grabbed safely onto the ledge outside the window. I slowly scurry away, focusing on my fingers and not on the way my body seems to be begging me to cry, to get out this hurt.
I finally get to the ground safely and take off running, the document in hand.
It's only when I see Eo's wanted poster two weeks later that I realize he got away too.
I need to find him.
I need to get paid.
I need to find a home.

⇾ word count (1878) ⚘

~

⇾ Part Five ~ (critique) ⚘

(my critique is below)
(lark's critique)

⇾ word count (n/a) ⚘

~~~

⇾ total word count (too lazy) ⚘
⇾ completed on: (3/31) ⚘

⇾ Critique for Coco ⚘

Hey Coco!

{He's gone now, the girl can feel it}

I think it may be interesting to replace “the girl” with “she”, since it matches “he” closer. Just a suggestion of course, since it's up to you what's best rhythmically <3

{strewn on the ground}

I love the imagery - it's absolutely chilling.

{However, the girl's grief-stricken tears bring back no life;}

I feel like the word “however” is a bit unnecessary here, since the idea of him smiling while she's crying already presents the contrast. I love how you wrote about her being unable to bring him back, because it's just showing grief through a really interesting lens ^^

{and covered in greases}

I'm a little confused about what you're trying to say here. Can you clarify it somehow?

{stabs of guilt}

I love how “stabs” is plural. It's such a small detail but it adds a lot ^^

{Her lungs are on a desperate fire, straining for bliss;}

I think that the “a” is a bit unnecessary, and while I do think that bliss works in the context, it may be fun to try other words to see if you like any others. It's not necessarily a big suggestion, but I think it's such a powerful line that could be fun to play with ^^

{The girl had known the deplorable bombs would take over,
And leave them all in a grotesque plague not shorter than forever,
However, none of her beloved family had thought it would come soon-
The heartbreaking troubles of war, their rivals' cruel boon.}

This is more of a general suggestion, but I think that this part is very clear about the story, but I think that you could try making certain parts of it more subtle, using imagery and other literary devices. That's more of a personal opinion, of course, so you do you <3

{The petals torn to pieces,}

Love the imagery!

{the sky settling into a night.}

I also love the imagery of ‘settling’ here, but again with an unnecessary “a” ^^

{Help! she rasps, but not a soul answers her hopeful plead,}

I think ‘plea’ is the grammatically correct word here? I'm not a grammar expert, though ^^' I love the use of the word rasps, though. It's a really great descriptor and it evokes so much emotion.

{skulls' cruel glare}

This imagery, oh my gosh. I love that it adds to the theme of the mc feeling guilty and I also just love the way that the line feels. It's so amazing.

All in all, I think that the imagery throughout the piece is incredible. I think my main suggestion would just to be more subtle about certain happenings, but those are fairly easily fixed thing (in my opinion, at least). Thank you for letting me critique, and I just have to throw in one last time how amazing that line about the skulls is ^^

⇾ 408 words ⚘

⇾ Daily #28 (fractured fairy tale) ⚘

(I'm too busy to search out an obscure fairy tale so I'm just doing Rapunzel because… frying pans <33)

If the tower were any taller, I'd probably think twice about trying to climb down it using my hair.
Luckily, it's just the right height, so naturally, I swing my curls over a hook and slide my way down, the split ends of my unruly hair feeling rough and itchy beneath my hands.
I'm out.
He's standing three feet away from me.
“You didn't even scream,” Everett says.
I relish in his disappointment for a moment. He had whined and wailed like a child when he'd gone down. It had hurt when he'd gone down on my hair, but I wasn't going to tell him that.
I hand him a fistful of hair. “Get braiding.”
“Huh?”
“Look,” I say, "we're trying to get the both of us out of here. If we're going to make it any further, we can't have my hair leaving a sixty-foot trail to our exact location. So, therefore, I will repeat myself. Get braiding.“
”I…“
I look at him with wide, angry eyes. ”Don't tell me you don't know how to braid.“
He smiles guiltily.
I roll my eyes and pick some grass blades to show him what to do with the little strands. After a minute or two of playing with some straw, he eventually gets the hang of it.
After about an hour, my hair is only about down to my ankles, which is a serious improvement.
”Let's get moving,“ I say.
He doesn't know my name. I insisted he call me ”Her Royal Highness.“ I'm not a princess or anything, just a girl who got caught on the wrong side of a war and ended up in the most isolated place the new government could find. Apparently, it was where they put the prisoners who couldn't be put in the normal prisons, or they would stir up trouble.
Which, of course, is how Everett and I ended up climbing out of a tower.
It's fine, though. I've got a guy who follows my orders and calls me Your Highness. Things could be a lot worse.
I think he was starting like calling me Highness, though. He smiled every time he said it.
I slung my pack over my shoulder, the weight of the food and water supply already making my shoulder sore.
”So,“ he says. ”We've known each other for two weeks, and we're out of the tower. You can't use that excuse of being busy making plans anymore.“
”So?“ I shoot back.
”So, what's your story?“
I stop, turn to him, and place a hand on my hip. It's a look that had terrified my siblings in the past.
He, unfortunately, seems rather unfazed.
”My story is the exact same as yours,“ I say. I turn to walk onward.
”What's that supposed to mean?“
”It means I lived a normal life, I got caught in the war, and I just happened to be a particularly stubborn inmate!“ I say, throwing up my hands in frustration.
”How do you know that's what my life was like?“ he says.
I turn to him. ”Enlighten me.“
He looks down, suddenly solemn. ”I was a thief before this. I stole art, food, everything.“
He truly looks ashamed.
I shrug and continue walking. ”Alright.“
”Huh?“
”I don't mind."
What I don't tell him is that my past is worse.
I was a prisoner even before this.
I don't say the words, but given the way he's looking at me, I think he can see them written in my eyes.
I walk onward. My hair swings behind me, briefly getting caught on a thorn, holding me where I am.
Stuck.
I yank my hair free and walk further.

⇾ 614 words ⚘