critique!! 445 words

I'll do my best on this, I'm definitely not a great poet (as you may have experienced already haha) but I'm always up for trying something new so let's get to it!

When the clock strikes midnight
Sleep eludes me
The cold of the rheumy air

Starting off here, the word “rheumy” instantly jumped out at me - there are both pros and cons for using it in this context. The pros are that it's a unique choice, invoking a certain emotion to those who know what it means. The cons are that it interrupts the flow of the piece because it's usually used in a different context, and it's startling to see it used in this way. Whether you keep it or not is up to you; if you decide to use a different word, something like “clammy” might work! (It also has the added virtue of being alliterative, which is always a plus).

Presses like a blanket around my limbs
Like a tongue on my skin

Nice imagery here!

I turn, tangling the sheets around me

My mind is sharp as an owl’s
Eyes roam all around
Mice race somewhere
The cat growls

The last two sentences here feel a bit out of place with the rest of this section and throw off the rhythm a bit; try lengthening the number of syllables used to establish a better flow.

And the raven-black darkness
Peers back me
Baring its shiny claws
I whimper, closing my eyes

Love this section here!! The only thing I would change is how you described the claws, as “raven-black” and “shiny” don't seem to fit with each other (although that might have been intentional, if it was just ignore me haha).

The smile I wear,
Who would see it?
Do my expressions matter?
Happiness, sadness, fear, anger
Mixed in a glass of ashen moonlight
Poured over my face like luminescent honey
I open my eyes—it is still dark

Beautiful imagery here. I especially love the line with luminescent honey - the similes and metaphors you used really pull this section together and give it a distinct voice.

What is slumber, but a little glimpse of death?

I would remove the comma after “slumber,” since too many commas in a sentence can reduce the flow and make it feel choppy.

A little rendezvous to the world beyond
Every second drops like a marble
Into the pond of time

I'm not sure “marble” is the best word for this, since it's not what I normally think of as dropping into a pond. “Pebble” or even “rain” (without the “a” before it) might be a better fit here.

Counting… One, two, three
Memento mori
I hear, those soft whispers

And I would remove the comma after “hear.”

The hyacinth and chrysanthemums on my window
Bent towards me, life and death

Since you seem to be speaking in the present tense, “bend” instead of “bent” may be a smoother fit here.

The paradox of life, the inevitable
question hangs in the air
Swinging like a pendulum
The wilting flowers had looked at me

Again, I would remove “had” to make everything in this section the same tense.

In their profound wisdom
I reach towards them, my fingers touching the petals—brushing—but never colliding

When the dawn commences
All my imaginary friends
Go to sleep
The hand on my forehead, stroking my hair
Telling me it’s okay
Evaporates, l

I'm not sure what the “I” at the end is doing there - I can't seem to connect it to the rest of the poem, although I may be missing something. Maybe consider clarifying how it fits.

It was there and then—it wasn’t
I drown in solitude, my words, nothing but a solecistic soliloquy


Sleep is an infrequent visitor
His knock seldom heard
Insomnia holds me like a lover, her vigilance
Wraps me in her soft embrace
Her caress
Soothes all the troubles I knew
My grief is hers,
She is mine and
I am hers

All right! I really enjoyed reading through this, and it's a beautifully written piece. The only thing I would suggest overall is making sure your language, especially in your similes, fits the context of the rest of the piece. Otherwise I don't have anything else to note here! Thanks for letting me critique your poem, I had a blast <3

(I used “sea, turtles, beach” by @HermioneVoiceActress.)

Once, all the seas were one sea, and all the land was one land. On this grand, ancient stage, many life forms lived and died. We were only one lineage in the multitude, an uncomplicated burrowing reptile. Our ribs were sturdy and wide to shield ourselves from the dangers of the world, and we stood low to the ground, the better to fit ourselves within the earth.
Back then, we were not aware of the larger scale of events taking place. It wasn't until the extinction came that something changed us, the first spark of wisdom settled itself in our minds. Nearly all life vanished from the world, but not us. In the dry, empty expanse, the survivors were left to build something new.
First, there were large beasts with snapping teeth, but these did not last forever. Smaller, agile creatures soon took their place, diversifying like no other. Before long, they were the new rulers of the planet, and we watched their ascent. Our ribs had hardened and fused into shells now, and already, we resembled our future forms.
Yes, you might have guessed, we are the turtles.
We were there when the continents began to split, we were there when sauropods became the largest land animals ever. We were there as volcanoes erupted and feathers evolved. We observed it all. And we remembered.
No matter how many generations pass, the memories are passed down within us. Each lineage around the planet has seen different things, and taken on different shapes, but in our shared history, we are all one. From the tortoises of the island, to the sea turtles hatched upon the beach, we remember.
The non-avian dinosaurs are gone now, yet their feathered descendants remained for a while, upholding their legacy. And so do we.
We wait. We abide. We watch.

Daily 19:

Hey everyone, hope you’ve had a great few days of camp! For this daily you’ve got to pop three words into the main cabin’s dropbox and then claim another person's three words from the main desk. Then it's up to you to craft their words into your very own 300 word story to donate to our library! Complete this and gain 250 points for your donation, with an additional 50 points for sharing proof!

Words were ‘Very important parrot’ given by @AmazaEevee. Names of Olivia and her friends were given by @-Bookdragon-, @lliu_11, and @Chueythecat.

This parrot, no, not that parrot, this parrot, right here, is a very important parrot. She is my parrot, and she is very famous and very important. Her name is Olivia Wonders Iggy Elizebeth Rawr II. She enjoys eating good food, and crackers. I often dress her in fabulous clothes. Since she is a very important parrot. What did you think VIP stood for? She is a scarlet macaw, they can live for 80 years. Olivia’s favorite clothes to wear are sunglasses, and a feather boa. She is so very fabulous. She has 371 different items of clothing, plus make up, head bands, feather clips, and all the outfits Taylor Swift has ever worn (in parrot size, of course). Olivia is rich and bought her own mansion, which I live in with her (she’s a very generous parrot). I make all her food and dress her and do all her photo shoots. But I enjoy it. We are best friends. Her best (non-human) friend is Stanley Coco. He’s a parakeet, and lives across the street. He only has 42 outfits, so sometimes they share, even though Olivia is very big, and Stanley is rather tiny. I sew lots of Olivia outfits, since unfortunately, there aren’t many people selling scarlet macaw sized outfits. We did find some selling some fabulous cowboy outfits in macaw size. Olivia usually finds the outfits she likes on the internet, and then I sew them for her. Or sometimes she just thinks of something, and draws it (she’s a very talented artist) or I just make something for her (which she doesn’t always like). She has another parrot friend named Dog (a very strange name, if you ask me), but often disagrees with them and then they don’t talk for days. But usually I can get them to make up. Anyways, I must go now, and feed and play with Olivia.

315 words

Daily 19

‘Ghosts in mirrors’

The shrill beeping of my alarm clock startled me from my dream. I was being stalked by my DT teacher, who unfortunately happened to be chasing me with an axe and a pencil sharpener. Sad times.
“Harini!”
My mother’s voice leaked into my room, along with a sharp rapping on the door.
“I’ve got to go! Make sure you lock up!”
“OK!” I called back, my voice raw and dry. I cleared my throat. “Love you!”
“Love you too!” Came her fading voice.

I tumbled out of bed, the bitter air making me shudder violently. I yawned, stretched and thundered down the stairs, wrapping my frayed thin hoodie around my shoulder. I shoved some bread in the toaster and scrolled through some shorts while I waited for it to finish. When it had, I stuffed it in my mouth, choking as I raced back upstairs to brush my teeth. I tapped my foot impatiently, desperate to get back to doom scrolling and skipping school.

I glanced in the mirror. My ashy brown hair was sticking up in wild clumps and my rich brown eyes looked dull and tired. A spot was forming just on the tip of my nose. I leant forwards to see where it was and popped it. The satisfaction was unimaginable.
A cold feeling tingled down my spine. I stared behind me. It had almost felt like a hand, brushing my shoulder. I shrugged. Probably nothing. I turned back to the mirror, my toothbrush alerting me that my two minutes were up. I spat into the sink and wiped my mouth.

That chilling sensation again. Running through my body. I rolled my eyes. It was definitely a hand. And it was still there. I reached over my shoulder and slapped my back where the strongest feeling was. My hand just met my pyjamas. But a figure flickered to life behind me. It was shadowed, but its features were slowly gaining detail and intricacy. A pair of large, red-rimmed glasses, bony fingers, ruffled auburn hair and a devious smile.
“Hi.”
I looked behind me. No one. I gazed back into the mirror. There he was. Just like the Mirror of Erised.
“Go away.”

words: crash, sacrifice, survival
tw: death and a plane crash

“Brace for impact!”

That was the last thing nine-year-old Laura Sanders heard as she felt the plane go down. Dropping lower, and lower, and lower, and-

She didn’t want to think about what came next. She was old enough to understand the concept of death; and she knew this would be the end for her. Stuck in a plane, going down over the empty space that was the Australian outback.

Then impact.

The thud-thud and skidding of the plane as it grinded to a halt.

And the shock that she, somehow, was still alive.

“Evacuate!” She heard someone - probably a flight attendant - yell, and Laura heard a door open. She could see bright daylight rushing in from one of the emergency exits up ahead, and tried to get up from her seat.

“Laura, don’t panic,” she heard the voice of her older sister, Miranda, say as she tried to get out. “Just listen to the flight attendants, okay?”

Laura nodded, and she felt Miranda tug her arm as they attempted to make their way towards the emergency exit.

“Jump!” She heard the flight attendant call. Then again, in a rhythmic pattern. “Jump!”

Soon enough, it was their turn. Laura didn’t want to jump. It was too high, too scary.

“We need you to jump,” one of the flight attendants said. “Have you ever been on a water slide?”

Laura nodded.

“It’s just like that, but without water. We can push you down, okay?”

Laura nodded, sitting on the slide before being pushed down by the flight attendant, her feet crashing into the solid ground below. She watched as Miranda jumped from the plane as well, before she suddenly noticed a plume of smoke rising from one of the engines.

“Mir… is that normal?” Laura asked.

Miranda shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I’m sure everyone will be able to find their way out.”

And then, it exploded. Laura watched as the nice flight attendant lady urged everyone out of the plane, and she attempted to jump out too, but it was far too late.

“What about our parents?” Laura asked.

“Their seats were empty when we left the plane. I’m sure they’re out here somewhere,” Miranda reassured. “Come on, Laura. Let’s try to find them.”

daily 19

words used: “step once again” (thanks to Jiyeon for the prompt! <3)

The squirrel is running up the tree, the mountain's tip is touching the sky, the leaves are blowing in the wind. The sky is as pink as rose petals. It's nice here, Betty thinks.
But when the night comes, she shrinks away from the shadows as her fingers tremble.
A year ago, Betty and Leslie climbed the hill together. They do this every year.
This year is different because Leslie isn't here. Betty tries not to think about it, but the more she thinks, the more her brow furrows. She's worried. Her friend said she'd come back once she made sure Adrianna returned to Earth. Adrianna, who always tips her head back before she laughs, Adrianna, who is from a place where the sky is blue and the grass is green.
Betty and Leslie are both from Meriatris, not Earth. Meriatris is where the sky is pink and the grass is purple.
A tear slips down Betty's cheek, because she's scared. Scared that her friend will never come back.
Before Leslie left her, she'd said, “I don't want to walk the hill without you. It won't be the same.”
Her friend smiled. “You should! Step once again.”
Betty frowned. “What does that mean?”
Leslie took her friend's hand in hers. “I should be back within a year. Even if I'm not, don't worry about me. Step once again and walk up the hill. And when you look up into the sky, you know I'll be looking at it too.”
It sounded like something from a storybook, Betty thought. But she was touched.
Now she gazes at the sky. She tries to look for the constellations, but all she sees is stars, little sparkles scattered across the sky. She wonders if Leslie can see the same stars from where she is now.
Betty hears the sound of a scuffle behind her. Sweat drips from her palms, and she turns around slowly.
It's so dark that she can barely see, but she spots the figure of a girl, a hat on her head.
She feels a chill pass through her, but she stands up and steps forward. Step once again, like what Leslie said.
Her mouth opens.
“Leslie?”

word count: 366 words

word war!! no prompt, two minutes, 122 words

I shoved myself to the front of the crowd, desperate for the captain's attention. One of us would be chosen to be in charge of a tour yacht leaving the dock later this afternoon, and I was determined for that lucky person to be ME. Her eyes scanned over all of our hopeful faces, resting on me. I grinned with delight - but then she turned away and pointed to him.

my enemy!! i was outraged, so outraged i starting throwing mangoes in the air. this is a disgrace! i yelled! how could you choose that fool? i hate this! im going to steal my own boat and run away because this is the worst writing ive ever done but i just realised

{Daily #19}
Word count: 302/300
Prompt: Take three words from the main cabin and write a 300 word story about them.
My words (from @BookHuggers2022): dreams, ravens, vibes
Notes: Um this is very weird writing. I may be going insane…

My dreams are like ravens, flying through the night.
My dreams are like ravens in the pale, pale moonlight.
My dreams come from the clouds, above above above.
Above in the clouds, kind of like a dove.

The birds are around me, fluttering, flying.
The birds carry my dreams, around, shying
From nothing, bringing my dreams.
The dreams that are mine, I scream.

I shudder just reading the poetry. From an insane asylum, I know. From my mother. My mother, who went insane the moment she had me. Now I live with my father, alone except for him.

My room is dark. I turned off the lights to go to sleep but found myself tossing and turning in my bed. I couldn’t stop thinking about the scrap of paper they sent me from the asylum.

My mother. The thought whispers through my mind. The mother I grew up without? The mother who is trapped there? The mother I’ve been forbidden to see?

A raven crows tonight, flying underneath the stars. I shiver. This poem is uncannily similar to my dreams. The dreams I’ve been having every night since I was a child. As long as I can remember.

Is it a sign I’m going mad? A connection to my mother? Or something more sinister? Is it proof that my mother perhaps isn’t mad at all? Trapped in that asylum, watching, waiting.

If she’s been in the asylum that long, though, she might as well be mad now. Or dead.

I fall back onto my bed, exhausted, the vibe in my bedroom dark as I slowly doze off, my dreams filled with birds flying in a graveyard.

The graveyard with my grandmother’s bones.

The birds fly around and around and around and around. Circling, watching, waiting.

They’re coming for me. I know it.

daily! words are music, memory, mind. 320 words

This is the pianist, lost in the melodies of her mind, closed off to the world, trapped inside a cage of music notes (self-inflicted).
She cannot see the music sheet in front of her anymore, but it doesn’t matter. She plays from memory, her fingers stroking the keys of the piano.
This is the song she played for him all those years ago, when the world was still open and free and laughter was more than a myth. She remembered how sweet the applause sounded that night.
Now the room where she once played to admiring crowds is cold and silent, haunted by the ghosts of old memories. She is the only living thing - herself, and the piano.
She has always loved this song. It spoke of spring, brooks babbling, grass swaying in a breeze, birds singing. Now, too, it holds ice and winter, the soft cold of snow falling on a lonely tombstone.
She bows her head until her body is curved over the piano, her forehead resting on black and white keys as she plays the final note. It is finished, like so many things in her life. Finished, like her love.
Straightening, she begins a new song, the chords echoing hollowly in the empty chamber.
This is all she has left: the music and the memories. Everyone else is gone and buried.
Silk sweeps on wood as she stands, closing the lid of the piano. She hasn’t finished the song. It doesn’t matter. She rarely does. She plays until she can take no more, and then she leaves. She will go mad without the music, but she will go mad with it, too.
She crosses the floor, dust hushing under her skirts. Faded flowers droop in corners, their sunlight obscured by grimy windows that are still beautiful when the light hits them.
This is all she has left of the bright things she once had and loved.

Crimson desire veil

I sat in front of the mirror, staring at my cold eyes. My dress was red.
Sometimes red is happy.
Sunsents. Summer. Good fortune.
But nothing about this made me happy.
Crimson was blood.
Death.
A red- stained dawn.
A pointless party.
“Mak,” a voice said, filtering through the door. “It’s me. Please come out. You’re missing the entire event. Name will be so upset if you miss another one of these dinners.”
I reached up to my eyes, wiping away imaginary tears. “Okay. I’m coming.” I flipped the black veil back over my face.
And I stepped out into the large hall. Analis was there, dressed in a much more suitable shade of red than I. “I’m here.”
Anaris nodded. “I can see that. Please tell me you’re prepared to stop running off during these. Name gets more angry every time you skip out on one of these… you know why they’re so important, Mak. So just… keep it in mind. They’re for her.”
I knew that. Of course I knew that.
But I just nodded.
Now wasn’t the time to pick a fight with Analis. Not when she was already so uptight about Name’s rules. Not when she was so afraid.
Like me.
Nothing was right anymore, and both of us knew it.
Our only desire had been to be free from our mother’s control, and as soon as she’d… stepped out of the picture… our lives had been taken over by that evil witch. She was just like our mother, but… worse? In a sense.
Whatever.
I had Kai and the team now.
Except.
No, I didn’t.
Not anymore.
All I had was a sister who wouldn’t stand up for me.
I think that’s when I knew.
Kai was everything I ever had. Everything I ever wanted.
There was no part of me that wanted this story.
I just wanted her back.
I wanted to show them I could be strong, too.
I wasn’t afraid.
But I was.
And that was the problem.

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭୨ ASSIGNMENT 19 ୧ ⊹ ˚₊‧

grief, memories, forgiveness.

The day of your funeral was dreary and cloudy, I thought that it was a perfect way to describe my current mood. I forgot how to do anything, without you, I was nothing. I spent hours at your grave, the rain plastering my hair against my skull. When I looked down, I could only see a mural of crimson on my hands. No matter how hard I scrubbed, all I could see was scarlett red spots, and I was right to see that.

I was a killer.

Killers aren’t good people, killers deserve to rot and die in jail. It was at that moment that I realized that it was all on me. You currently laid 6 feet under because of me. It was completely my fault, it was all my fault for letting you die. It was my fault you’d never see the sun again, and you’d never get a boyfriend. It was my fault, it was my fault you were robbed of that.

—

When I close my eyes, I have memories. I have dreams based on the past, I have dreams that remind me of what I lost. My dreams were a cruel reminder to everything I had ever done wrong.

This was a memory from when I was 12, and you were 16. You were hovering over me, sternly looking at your makeup palette, and then back at me. The eyeshadow was scattered all around the palette, and the eyeshadow was practically ruined.

“Did you do this?” You asked me, and sweat pricked at the back of my neck.

“I uh…” I stuttered, looking for what to say. “N-”

But then I saw your expression, a mix of upset and not upset at the same time. You were one of the nicest people I ever knew, and you would never hold a grudge. Guilt overwhelmed my body, seeing the upset in your eyes.

“I did…I’m sorry…” I looked at the ground, not willing to face you. I heard you sigh, before you crouched down to my level.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Your voice held no resentment or anger, only kindness. You were comforting me. “It’s okay, I’m glad you were honest.” Your lips perked up in a smile, before you wrapped your arms around me. I froze for a moment, confused by the gesture, before I returned the gesture.

“Listen here little brother, I promise that I could never hate you!”
“Promise?”
“Mhm! Promise!”

The dream ended there.

—

I was back at your grave again tonight, but the dream I had lingered on my mind, specifically the end.

”I promise that I could never hate you!”

Were you telling the truth? Or was it a cruel lie? I looked back at your grave, as if your name etched on stone would give me the answer.

“Were you telling the truth?” I asked you, despite the fact I knew I would never get an answer. Though, I could answer that myself. Whenever I did something bad, you never yelled, you never got angry. You only smiled, and comforted me, and told me that it was okay. So I would believe it to be the truth. I would believe you when you said you would never hate me.

“So…you forgive me?” I asked, though I knew the answer. For the first time in a long time, I smiled. “I forgive me too.”

I looked down to my hands, and I saw the red fade away.

| ♞ | ୨ 578 words

Daily #19
3/19/2025
369 words (edited: 373 words)

A/N: I'm going with ehhh like Freefall!Clint for this. At least as far as the singular right hearing aid is concerned (or like 2018 Clint on ig-) Personality wise, Comic!Clint in general? Fraction!Clint fs. Maybe a bit of MCU!Clint, but that's not what I was going for- Fraction!Kate, not MCU!Kate. Anyways- (No offense to any Shake it Off lovers. It's my childhood. Just ~Clint~)
'Arrows, Purple, and Dog' from @imaginary-dagger (as an excuse to write fanfiction, didn't use all of the words, more vibes)
'Tired of life' from @milkysplash (also vibes, but the one I *actually* used for the daily)

He was trying to ignore Lucky's whines and nudges, when the beat of an obnoxious pop song pulls him out of his half-dazed consciousness.

Clint groans, sticking his arm out of his blankets and feeling around on his nightstand for his blaring phone. “Shake it Off” this early in the morning? Ugh, he really shouldn’t have let Kate change her ringtone.
“Mmm, ‘ello?” he mumbles. He presses the phone up to his right ear and waits for a moment, before realizing. “Hold on Kate; let me grab my hearing aid.”
Kicking the sheets off, he grabs the purple hearing aid that were next to his phone, before sliding it over his right ear and switching it on.
“Got it?” Kate’s voice filters through.
“Yeah, but why are you callin' me at-,” Clint rubs his eyes and glances at his analog clock, “-aw, it's past 9 already?”
“Late night?” He can hear her smirk through the screen.
Clint sets the phone on the nightstand, putting it on speaker. “Late everythin',” he grumbles, stretching and reaching down to ruffle Lucky's fur.

“Heard about the great show you put on last night,” she starts, her tone teasing.
Clint grimaces, as he pulls back one of the bandages on his arms from the scuffle last night. “Yeah, love the memories. What'd you hear?”
“Natasha messaged me last night, something about making sure you don't die, cause she's heading out of town. You need to get out more, Clint; this is a terrible support system. You can't have your girlfriend save you and then leave me to babysit all the time.”
“She's not my- we're not-” He deflates, grabbing a tube of salve. “Well, I guess you heard how last night went.”
Kate's clipped words confirm, “Yep. Take care of your wounds and Pizza Dog for me.”
“I’m tired of life; I’m going to go back to bed soon.” Clint hisses as Lucky nudges at his bruised side. “Not there, Lucky—and s’all right. We’re having a 1v1, Hawkeye against Hawkeye, tomorrow. I never miss, or lose, one.”
“Hawkeye #2, you are right.” Clint makes a noise of protest, but Kate continues. “I’ll stop by later and make sure Lucky is still alive. I want a cup of coffee.”

March 19 daily: bus sky star 423 words

I quietly shuffled down the hallway with the backpack I had stuffed full of food and clothes the night before. I looked back at my room, half empty, full of everything I had to leave behind. A single tear fell from my right eye, reflecting the moon outside. A minute later, the moon was covered by the clouds, making everything in the house darker, making the shadows even bigger. I tiptoed downstairs.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
I looked up at the clock. 2:47 AM. I had to go. I opened the door, slipped outside, and closed it with my key. I have no use for it after this, but I hold onto it anyway, for the memory of it. Standing on my front porch, I let the cold night air fill my lungs. I walked out into the road. No need to hide at night, New York is always awake.

I let myself get lost in the sounds of the city. There's still cars beeping, though less often, stores open, restaurants and nightclubs thriving. That isn't what I'm here for tonight, though. Tonight I need to get out. I will miss the city, but there's no time to think about it. I switched to a jogging pace.

2:55. The night sky shines above me, I'm almost there. I already bought my ticket, now all I have to do is ride away. That is, if I don't miss it. Come on, it's only a couple more blocks. I switch to a run, the dirty city air stinging my lungs.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
It's fine. I made it. 2:59. I collapse on the tiny bench, and wait for the bus to arrive. There's a woman on the other side of the block, but she doesn't question my presence, nor do I question hers. I catch my breath, and look up. Just clouds in New York. But soon I'll be out of here. I feel the sweet caress of sleep beckon me. I let myself close my eyes, just for a minute. But I can't fall asleep. Not yet.

3:02. The bus comes, shining it's bright lights into my eyes. I get on. One guy politely smiles at me. I nod back. I choose a seat near the back. I plan to ride this far out of here. There's only a couple other people on the bus. From here on out, it's just me, this bus, and a sky full of stars. Soon I'll be there. But until then, I rest.

activity :: daily
day number :: 19
daily topic :: three words
cabin :: thriller
three words :: reflection,, never, mine (from @imaginary-dagger)
word count :: 846

**this is a short story about my oc,, rose, who is from my poem "the girl in the mirror".

The girl in the mirror
was brimming with joy
she smiled with happiness
as inside, she cried.

The girl in the photos
she's lively and sweet.
Like a floating little bubble
while inside, she's meek.

The girl in the memories
was a constant beam
a ray of light
a sparkle of a dream.

The girl in all their eyes
is their perfect little rose.
So dainty and beautiful,
but to her, only her thorns grow.

The girl in the frame,
knows nothing but joy.
“Just smile and you'll be fine”
Inside, she just wants to d!e.

The girl from the past
is showered in bliss
a youthful beginning,
now she's drowning in abyss.

The girl in their minds
is lovely and lively.
Nobody can see her broken heart,
hidden so precisely.

The girl they all know
is constantly laughing.
They see the one side of her mask
and not the other, which is frowning.

Rose stared at her reflection, pushing a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear, although many would say it was more of a light brown. Really though, she would never think of it as light brown. Her mom’s hair had been auburn, and therefore hers was as well.
She had known her mom for less than a month, less than a month in the fourteen years of her life. She’d passed from what many say was illness, but Rose knew it was heartbreak. Despite having found “love”, she hadn’t found her happily ever after. Her one chance at happily ever after had been torn to pieces when Rose’s father had left.
Not that her stepfather wasn’t a good man. He was kind, he was thoughtful, he was always there when Rose fell behind on her schoolwork, he was the only family she had left in the world. But he was never the dad who encouraged their little girls to go do something crazy, to drive them to secret parties, to start pillow fights and to jump on the bed and to bake cookies with her and to laugh when she got flour on her nose and to take her on little picnics and to cover for her when she left school and to-
The stubborn lock of hair fell back into her eye.
Rose huffed and blew the strand, putting it back into its place. She took one last look at the mirror, and the girl who stared back.

The girl in the mirror….
Her heart full of lies…

Her eyes were a lake, not harsh and unforgiving like the ocean she’d lost her favorite sandals at when she was seven, not rushing and rapid like the river she’d almost fallen in when she was twelve, not full of sparks and shards of glowing sediment like the stars that she stared up at when she couldn’t sleep.
They were serene.
They were serene and calm, peaceful and comforting.
People say eyes are the window to the soul, but only if they don’t wear masks, don’t put up their shields and hide behind “I’m okay.”

The girl in the mirror…
Hides her face while she cries…

Blue like the color of teardrops and oceans and rivers and lakes and the same exact hue that her mother’s eyes had been. Blue like the cover of the notebook her old best friend had bought her for her thirteenth birthday.
That notebook housed some of her greatest fears. Words that could never be shared, but not like the secrets hidden under the locks of a diary.
Poems.
That had been a year ago, before Rose and her best friend - who was always more of a sister- had been separated. Ninety thousand miles apart. Ninety thousand miles of oceans, mountains, plains, all the things her mother had dreamed of showing Rose, the places they'd planned to explore together. They had talked about it so many times, how they would enjoy the sunsets fading over trees glistening with crystal white snow, to enjoy the salt breeze rippling through their hair… maybe through a newly tied braid in Rose's hair, like how her mother used to do.
That had been a year ago, before Rose had fallen down the well of utter pain.
Depression, they called it. In Rose’s case, they were wrong. Pain was right.
Just talk to someone, they say. In Rose’s case, they were wrong. No one will understand was right.
And the one person who could, the one person who would, was gone.
Her mother.
Rose looked back in the mirror.
We look so similar.
She blinked, but tears weren’t fighting to escape.

The girl in the mirror
She died long ago…

She blinked, and for a second she saw her mom. The one who will never be mine, never be my mom, she thought.

She died long ago…

Another blink, and the one person left to truly love, was gone.

Now the girl in the mirror…

It was just Rose. The girl, staring back at her with lakes for eyes and redwood for hair, was just Rose.

Is a girl without hope.

Word War with @dreamysolitude

Life as a pencil is a fascinating life indeed. When you’re a pencil, you get to explore every nook and cranny of the world. From lying on an old wooden table at a student’s home after they throw you from frustration after some especially hard homework, to sitting neglected on ancient, dirt-covered carpet in school that probably hasn’t been cleaned in several centuries. Life as a pencil, despite how dirty and unsanitary it might be, is actually a fun life. There are good times and bad times, as with any life. Sometimes you watch a student burst into tears as they rip their assignments into pieces and throw it away. But sometimes you get to watch the look of pure awe on their face when they discover they are capable of doing an especially hard math problem. The positives truly outweigh the negatives when you are experiencing life as a pencil. Sometimes, you get to fly across the classroom when a student is feeling bored and decides to chuck you across to the room to see if they can get away with it. Sometimes you’re buried at the bottom of a backpack for months before a student cleans their backpack and realizes you’re still in there. “Ah, that’s where my lucky pencil went!” they would exclaim, and promptly stuff you in a drawer somewhere to be forgotten yet again. Life as a pencil is great sometimes. Sometimes you get to the point where you’re really, really short because the student tried to sharpen you so many times but the pencil sharpener didn’t

Word Count: 262

♫ 01 critique - alana - 442 words ♫

your first paragraph is absolutely lovely, i love the beautiful description of the sky, and the mention of an unwashed brush is something i've never heard before in writing! the last sentence really ties everything together and it's just satisfying in my opinion! it makes everything feel simple and cozy i guess ahaha

once again, your description of the land is on point. i'm immediately captivated by the ominous vibe of legends and prophecies you mention at the end of the paragraph.

“At the time, the Elders from above as well as common ritual leaders would use their psychic abilities to predict the future.”
personally, i think this sentence would flow better if you put a comma after “above” and “leaders”

i love the idea of theories being stored in orbs! overall, the introduction of these secrets and what people will do to get their hands on them is great. on my first read through, the blank confuses me. ahaha yeah, coming back to this after reading the rest of the story, i still don't understand why the blank is there? maybe it's because of unsuitable language the forum picked up?

“Now a millenia later, our story begins…”
ohoho great introduction to another section of the story, though i'd add a comma after “Now” - though this could just be my preference again ^^

another preference thing, but i think a comma after “hoarse” would make this easier to understand <3
i like how you described the girl's hair flashing past the door!

can confirm stars are pretty in the night sky ehehe

“With that, the young girl continued running, the wind blowing against her face turning her cheeks a bright shade of rosy red.”
i think a comma would be beneficial after “face”
POPO <3
adjdjdkjh another preference thing, but i think the sentence would flow better if you changed “Sakura settled near the trunk of the tree, and stared at the pleasant view beneath her” to "Sakura settled near the trunk of the tree, staring at the pleasant view beneath her“
i believe the ”tattered dairy" is supposed to be a tattered diary?

noo this is so sad TwT the way you hit the feels in this short letter is amazing ahh

“It was as if a dam had just been burst after carefully circulating the water for years.”
this simile is awesome??

aww popo is an icon <3

i believe “Aww Popo!” should be “Aww, Popo!”

i think the use of the word “him” twice in a just a few words sounds a bit repetitive. maybe substitute one of them for “her panda”? example: "Running after her panda, Sakura tried to catch him before he caused any more trouble.“ ”Running after him, Sakura tried to catch her panda before he caused any more trouble."

the worldbuilding in this piece is great, i like the plot, and the way you expressed sakura's emotions was great! i do wish there was a bit more information on the theories of the elders and we would've gotten more of a taste of the prophecies and whatnot, since that's what captivated me in the beginning. overall, this is lovely piece!

@Miss-Mash-Mash
484 words of critque

#Hi! I went through this paragraph by paragraph and just added a few comments. Overall this piece was good–take the suggestions lightly!
I was scared. I admit it. I knew it was rational. I mean, I was a fifteen-year-old girl who was being sent off to kill monsters who could take down grown men with ease. Still, my mother would be disappointed if she knew this fear that has taken place in me. Easy for her to say, she had never had to venture into that forest. Never had to protect herself from the worst danger possible to imagine. I sighed, turning away from the mirror I’d been staring at. I tightened my low ponytail and walked out of the bathroom door.
#There are a lot of sentence fragments here. I would probably lead into them more so it sounds less disjointed–”It was easy,” for example. I like the use of asyndeton, though!
#For some reason, the tense for “I admit it” is throwing me off. Should it be I admitted it or I’ll admit it? Not sure–I would double check this
Mother was waiting at the kitchen counter, cooking eggs. That was unusual. I guess she wanted to be remembered by me in a good way. In case I didn’t come back. I scoffed, storming out of the front door without even acknowledging her. At least once I come back – Well, if I come back – I would be considered an adult. I would finally be able to move out. To get my own place. Maybe live with Calyx, my boyfriend, who my mother most certainly did not know about.
I walked out onto the street, a smile flickering onto my face before fading almost immediately after as I remembered why I was out of the street. Where I was going. Now frowning, I continued down the street, heading towards the forest.
#Same thing here! A lot of sentence fragments, some of which I think could be combined into the previous sentence and still maintain the same dramatic effect.
I was met by a crowd of roughly 200, but the only people who made me smile were Ingrid, Lazar and of course Calyx. I greeted my two friends with hugs and gave Calyx a quick kiss before we began making our way toward the edge of the forest.
#I would just spell out 200 here as two hundred.
Mayor Jones was a frail old man. He didn’t care whether I lived or died. He only cared about not being torn to shreds by the monsters. Behind where he was standing was a table. Covering it were backpacks and guns. Our group walked up to the table, each of us shouldering a backpack and grabbing a gun. We made our way to the markers positioned two meters away from one another in a line. I looked down and found the marker with my name. Sefafina Leafe. The other three found their markers and stood behind them.
#Maybe use a semicolon to connect the second and third sentences? Also, I would explain more what the markers look like, as a reader I’m not sure how to picture them.
I looked straight ahead. My hands began to shake. We had agreed to meet up underneath the Willow where we all used to play. Before all the monsters came.
#Penultimate and last sentences can be merged with a comma.
“Begin!” Mayor Jones old voice swept across the crowd of people. I took off sprinting. Running faster than most of the other teenagers there. I had always been a fast runner. I navigated my way easily through the forest, my memories from my childhood leading me. In no time, I was leaning against the familiar Willow, my gun in my hands, ready to shoot if any monster came near me. A week. That’s how long we had to survive in these woods. The trees rustled to my left and I lifted my gun. Lazar came crashing out of the bushes and I lowered my gun, sighing in relief.
#Apostraphe needed after Mayor Jones. I would also use a synonym for old, since you’ve already described him as old–maybe describe his voice using a simile in this case?
#You mention childhood memories. Maybe include something about her running? Did she learn this from her mom?
#She mentions being ready to shoot if anything approaches her. Expand on this, perhaps?
“You’re the first one?” Lazar asked me, lowering his own gun.
#You write that they both lower their guns. I would reword this slightly the second time.
I nodded. “Yeah.” I looked up and scanned the tree for the best branches to climb. I spotted a lowish hanging branch that looked thick enough to support my weight and jumped, grabbing onto it tightly with my hands. I pulled myself up, which was harder than I expected due to the extra weight in my backpack and swung my leg over the branch. Once I had balanced myself so I wouldn’t fall to the forest floor, I stood on the branch and reached for another thick one positioned above my head. I pulled myself up and waited for Lazar to follow me up. While he was pulling himself up, Calyx raced into view. He spotted me in the tree and relief washed over his features. Ingrid followed him. I climbed up a bit higher and Lazar followed, giving them more room to climb up the tree. I climbed until I found the platform my father had made for us. He was one of the first to go when the monsters appeared.
#I would add a comma after “extra weight in my backpack.” I would also use some varying language here–you say “pulled myself up” twice so it would be good to have some variety, also in the description of the tree/branches.
Soon all four of us were sitting on the platform. I was surprised it still held our weight. I unzipped my backpack to find what was inside.
“Seriously?” Ingrid said, already ahead of me. “Utensils only. No food or anything!”
There was a growl down on the forest floor and Calyx leapt forward and covered Ingrids mouth with his hand. Cutting off her complaining. We all sat frozen, praying that the creature would disappear or, at least, couldn’t climb trees. Just then, we heard a chorus of screams coming from somewhere to the right. Our heads all whipped towards the sound. The screaming continued for roughly 5 minutes. We just sat still. By the time it had stopped, I had tears running down my face. I was trying to keep my sobs from being auditory but was failing. Calyx scooted across the platform over to me and pulled me into a tight hug. He held me tight until I stopped shaking.
#I would change 5 to five. The “Cutting off” sentence would read better if you don’t leave it as a fragment. I also think you mean “audible” instead of auditory?
I pulled back and looked at the others. “We should probably move,” I whispered. “We don’t know I these guys can climb trees or not, and I’d rather be somewhere I could run if needed.
Ingrid shook her head, “I’d rather be somewhere where we know the land. We should just stay here.” The boys both agreed with her, so, we stayed.
#I believe I should be if in the third sentence. I would also remove the comma after so in the last sentence for better flow.
The boys climbed down the tree a few hours later, planning to go hunting for something to eat tonight. Ingrid and I stayed in the tree, cleaning up the area. I tried to be annoyed that the boys were doing the hunting while us girls stayed at home cleaning - it was very sexist - but I couldn’t. We worked silently side by side. We almost finished when we heard a growl again. We both immediately froze, but Ingrid let out a squeak in terror. I looked at her, and her eyes were wide open. Hopefully they couldn’t climb trees. I prayed to any higher being out there. Begging them to help us. Obviously, there was no higher being, because we heard the monster climbing up. Its growls were getting higher, and we could hear the claws raking the tree bark. Ingrid glanced at me before darting of into the canopy of trees, leaping from one to another. I follower, using smaller branches above my head as handholds. We ran, and could hear the monster behind us, still growling. I didn’t dare look back.
#”Of into” should probably just be into, and by “I follower” I think you mean I followed.
I could hear the monster getting closer. We stumbled along the branches, moving as fast as possible, but I could hear it catching up. I looked down at the forest floor, wondering if I could jump without breaking my legs.
“Ingrid!” I yelled up to her, praying she could hear, “When I say to, jump off the branch. We can’t outrun it like this.” She gave no indication that she heard me, but I just had to hope she had. The monster was getting closer, I could hear it snapping at my heals. “Now!” I yelled, and we jumped.
#”Heals” should be heels.
I landed and rolled. I had read in a book that it would lessen the impact. Ingrid wasn’t so lucky, as she landed, I heard a snap and she cried out in pain. I turned to look at her and found her crumpled on the floor. I glanced up but couldn’t see the monster. It must’ve been too smart to jump down. Obviously we weren’t. I struggled over to Ingrid. She had tears running down her face.
“Do you think it’s broken?” She asked me.
I sighed and nodded. “I heard it snap, so probably. We should get back to the tree and wait for the boys to get back.”
She nodded and I helped her stand. I slung her arm around my shoulders. We set off walking, her leaning heavily on me.
By the time it got dark, we were still walking. It was eerie being out in the forest after dark. Any creak or rustle would freak us out. Eventually, we made it, hobbling the whole way. Ingrid wouldn’t be able to climb the tree by herself.
“Stay here.” I whispered to her. I sat her down and made quick work of climbing the tree. I hoped the boys were up there. “Where the hell have you been?!” Calyx asked as he pulled me into a hug, not bothering to keep his voice down.
“Ingrid is down there with a broken ankle, and I need a rope to pull her up or something.” I moved towards the backpacks we had discarded, then fished through it until I found the rope. I handed one end to Calyx who securely tied it to a branch. I began my climb down the tree. When I reached the bottom, I dropped the rope and moved over to Ingrid, helping her stand once more and helping her over to the rope. I tied it around her waist.
“You’re going to need to use your hands and good foot to guide yourself up.” I told her, “We’ll pull you up from the top, but try to help us as much as possible.” Ingrid nodded and I climbed up again, my arms aching from having pulled myself up and down so many times. Once I reached the top I grabbed onto the rope and Calyx and Lazar followed. Be began slowly pulling Ingrid up. We heard a couple of ‘ouch’ ‘s but otherwise, it was a silent process.
#Be should be we, I believe.
Once we had finished pulling Ingrid up, we told the boys what had happened while Lazar wrapped Ingrids ankle. It was the end of the First day. One out of Seven days. How would we make it through the week?
#Missing an apostrophe after Ingrid.
#The storyline is captivating and I think you do a very good job of dialogue and pacing. There hasn’t been a lot of character description so far but you write their dialogue and interactions well. I had minimal suggestions for spelling and grammar. A few recommendations I had overall would be to try to add in some varied and more detailed descriptions, and try to show the reader more things instead of just stating them. Also, I think it would be beneficial to fix the large majority of the sentence fragments that were throughout the piece. While the desired goal was a dramatic effect, more often than not they just felt abrupt as I was reading them. Nice job!

part 1:
1. The Chosen One
This is the character who’s picked by fate or destiny to save the world—or at least fix everything that’s wrong. It’s interesting because it makes the story be filled with action. Readers can imagine themselves in the hero’s shoes, like “What if *I* was the one who had to save the world?” But sometimes it can get boring if the story makes the character seem super perfect, or if it’s too obvious that they’ll succeed no matter what.
82 words

2. Enemies to Lovers
This trope is all about two characters starting out hating each other, only to later fall in love. It’s fun because watching them argue and realize they have feelings can be really dramatic and entertaining. It shows how people can change and grow when they understand each other better. On the downside, if it’s rushed or not written well, it can seem fake. Also, sometimes it makes people question if it’s okay to fall for someone who was once really mean to them—it depends on how the story handles their relationship.
95 words

3. The Wise Mentor
You always see these characters as the older, wiser guide who helps the hero figure things out. They’re great because they make the hero’s journey deeper and more meaningful by teaching life lessons. Mentors often have interesting backstories that add even more to the plot. But, for real—so many mentors die just to push the hero to grow. It can feel way too predictable after seeing it over and over. Sometimes, they don’t even feel like real characters since they exist only to help the main one.
91 words


4. The Love Triangle
This trope creates drama when a character has to choose between two love interests. It’s exciting because readers usually pick sides and root for their favorite pairing. It also makes the main character’s romantic life more complicated, which can make their story more emotional. But, if it’s not handled well, love triangles can seem unnecessary or repetitive. If the choice takes forever, it might annoy readers. Also, the people in the triangle can end up feeling more like stereotypes than actual people.
86 words


5. The Evil Overlord
This is the ultimate villain who has all the power, wants to conquer everything, and is often super cruel. They make the stakes high and really push the hero to fight back. Readers love seeing the hero rise up against such a huge challenge. But on the flip side, evil overlords can sometimes feel like cardboard cutouts—just bad for the sake of being bad. If they don’t have good reasons for their actions, it’s hard to care about them as characters or remember them once the story’s over.
92 words
total: 456 words

part 2:

Isabella “Izzy” Harper wasn’t looking for love when she signed up for the summer songwriting camp in Nashville. Music was her whole world—her escape from the chaos back home. But life had other plans, and soon, she found herself caught between two very different hearts.

The first was Logan, her longtime best friend from her hometown of Portland. He was the boy who always knew exactly what to say to make her laugh, the one who stuck by her when her parents’ divorce turned her world upside down. Logan showed up unannounced at the camp one day, guitar slung over his shoulder, claiming he wanted to support her dream. His laid-back charm and deep brown eyes were hard to ignore.

Then there was Theo, the wildly talented and slightly mysterious pianist she met on the first day of camp. Theo played music like it was the only way he could breathe, and every time he looked at Izzy, she felt like he could see deep into her soul. He challenged her in ways she wasn’t used to, pushing her to take risks with her music—and maybe with her heart.

As the camp's final showcase approached, Izzy was torn. She and Logan worked on a song together, a sweet ballad that felt like coming home. Meanwhile, Theo inspired her to write an edgy piece about chasing your dreams no matter the cost. Both songs revealed different sides of her, and both boys were pulling her in opposite directions. She didn't know what to do. She loved them both and wanted to show them how much she appreciated them both.

The night of the showcase, Izzy performed both songs. As she poured her heart into the music, she realized something unexpected: it wasn’t about choosing Logan or Theo. It was about choosing herself—finding her own melody in the chaos. The boys were part of her story, but they weren’t the whole story.

After the applause faded and the stage lights dimmed, Izzy met Logan and Theo backstage. “You guys mean so much to me,” she said, smiling through tears. “But this summer wasn’t about falling in love—it was about finding my voice. And I think I finally have.”

The other two raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean falling in love?”
She tells them everything that happened over the whole summer camp. The two boys laugh and tell her that they were never trying to get her to fall in love. When she's confused. Logan holds Theo's hand saying over the year he had becomes friends with Theo and now it's gone another direction.
432 words

part 3:
Harry Potter had always known his life wasn’t normal. After all, how could it be, when he was “The Chosen One,” the Boy Who Lived? Everyone in the wizarding world looked at him like he was some kind of hero, the only person who could defeat Voldemort. For years, Harry had carried that weight—sometimes willingly, sometimes because he had no other choice. But what if everyone was wrong? What if the prophecy, the thing that had shaped his life and everyone’s expectations of him, wasn’t even about him?

It all started just a few days after Dumbledore’s funeral. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were camped out in the Gryffindor common room, their voices low as they planned their next move. None of them had slept much since the night Dumbledore died. They knew what had to be done—find the Horcruxes and destroy them—but they didn’t have much of a plan beyond that.

Then, out of nowhere, Professor McGonagall’s owl appeared with a message: Come to my office at once. That was all it said. No explanation, no hint of what she wanted. The three of them exchanged nervous looks, but they didn’t have time to discuss it. Within minutes, they were standing outside her office, wondering what was so urgent.

When they entered, the mood was immediately tense. McGonagall’s usual stern expression was replaced by something else—something like unease. Her desk, usually spotless, was covered in books, rolls of parchment, and what looked like old maps. She didn’t tell them to sit. Instead, she paced for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together, before pulling an ancient-looking scroll from a battered leather case.

“This,” she said, holding the parchment like it might burn her fingers, “is something I never thought I’d see. It changes everything.” She handed it to Harry, her gaze sharp and watchful.

Harry hesitated before taking it. The scroll was so old the edges were frayed, and the ink was faded and splotchy. He unrolled it carefully, and his heart sank as he realized what it was: a prophecy. Not just a prophecy, but a much older one than the one Trelawney had made—the one that had defined his entire life.

Hermione gasped, leaning over Harry’s shoulder to get a better look. Her sharp mind pieced together the meaning of the cryptic words faster than Harry’s could. “Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “This… this isn’t about you.”

Harry blinked, confused. “What?”

“It’s Neville,” Hermione said, louder this time, glancing at Ron and then at McGonagall. “This prophecy—it’s about Neville.”

Ron’s mouth fell open. “Neville?” he blurted. “Neville Longbottom?”

McGonagall gave a somber nod. “This prophecy predates Trelawney’s by centuries. It speaks of a descendant of an ancient magical lineage who will rise to defeat the Dark Lord. Neville is that descendant.”

Harry felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. “That can’t be right,” he said, shaking his head. “The scar, Voldemort coming after me, the… everything. How can I not be the one?”

McGonagall softened just slightly, her voice losing some of its usual sharpness. “The first prophecy was not incorrect—it did place you in Voldemort’s path. But this prophecy is older, more significant. Neville is the one who must finish what you’ve started.”

All his life, he’d been The Chosen One. It wasn’t something he’d asked for, but it was a role he’d come to accept—maybe even rely on, in a strange way. Now, he didn’t know what to think.

“Blimey,” Ron murmured. “I mean, Neville’s a good guy and all, but… are we sure he can handle this?”

Harry didn’t say anything. Part of him didn’t want to believe it. But deep down, he thought of Neville—the same Neville who had stood up to the Carrows, who had fought at the Department of Mysteries, who had quietly become braver and stronger with every passing year. Maybe he wasn’t as obvious a hero as Harry, but… maybe that’s what made him the right choice all along.
662 words

part 4:

The glowing scar on Kara’s wrist burned again. It always did when trouble was near. She pressed her palm against it, trying to ease the pain, but it was no use. The scar—a jagged mark that resembled the constellation Lyra—had appeared three years ago, on her sixteenth birthday. That was the day she learned she wasn’t just some ordinary girl from the outskirts of Astralis. She was *The Chosen One.*

At least, that’s what the elders had said. They’d claimed Kara was destined to wield the Astral Blade and save the world from the coming darkness. The only problem? Kara didn’t feel chosen. She felt like a fraud. She was clumsy with a sword, terrified of the dark, and would rather stay home with a cup of tea than battle evil forces bent on world domination. But the scar—and the prophecy tied to it—didn’t care what she wanted.

Her mentor, the old and slightly eccentric Solas, always told her the same thing: “The stars chose you for a reason, Kara. You just haven’t found it yet.” Solas was one of the last Star Seekers, a group of mages who could read the constellations to glimpse the future. His guidance was supposed to make her stronger, but honestly, Kara thought most of his advice was just riddles and nonsense. Still, he was kind to her in a way no one else had been since her parents disappeared, so she stuck with him.

Now, as she stood at the edge of the abandoned city of Noct, Kara wasn’t so sure she could trust him—or anyone. Noct had been taken over by the Shadow Court, a group of dark sorcerers who’d sworn to destroy the light of the stars forever. And Kara had to stop them. Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” sneered Zane, her so-called “partner” on this mission. He was tall, dark-haired, and as irritating as the scar on her wrist. A member of the Shadow Court who had turned against his own kind, Zane had been assigned to help Kara because, apparently, he “knew the enemy best.” Kara didn’t buy it. For all she knew, he was still loyal to the Shadow Court and was just waiting for the right moment to betray her.

“I’ll be fine,” she snapped, gripping the hilt of the Astral Blade. The sword gleamed faintly in the moonlight, its silver edge etched with glowing star patterns. “Just try not to stab me in the back.”

Zane smirked. “If I wanted to stab you, I’d have done it already.”

“Comforting,” Kara muttered under her breath.

The two crept through the ruins. Every step. Shadows flickered around them, unnatural and alive, and Kara’s scar burned hotter than ever. She could feel the darkness closing in, like it was watching her.

“What’s your plan?” Zane asked suddenly, his voice low but cutting through the silence.

“My plan is to stop talking to you and focus,” Kara shot back. In truth, she didn’t have much of a plan. Solas had told her to trust her instincts, but her instincts mostly told her to run far, far away.

As they reached the center of the city, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was cloaked in black, its face hidden beneath a hood. Kara tightened her grip on the Astral Blade, her heart pounding. “Welcome, Chosen One,” the figure said, its voice smooth and cold. “And the traitor. How poetic.”

Kara didn’t wait for the figure to attack. She lunged, the Astral Blade slicing through the air like a streak of light. But the figure was faster. It dodged easily, raising a hand to summon a wave of darkness that crashed toward her like a tidal wave. Kara braced herself, but before it could hit, Zane stepped in front of her, his own blade glowing with pale blue light. He slashed through the wave, dispersing it.

“Guess I’m not stabbing you in the back after all,” he said with a wink.

Kara stared at him, startled. For someone she didn’t trust, he was certainly good at saving her life. “Thanks,” she muttered grudgingly.

“Don’t mention it.”

The battle that followed was chaotic. Kara fought with everything she had, the Astral Blade glowing brighter with each swing. Together, they managed to drive the figure back, but not without cost. By the end of it, Kara was bruised and bleeding, and Zane wasn’t much better off.

As they stood in the aftermath, breathing hard, Kara glanced at Zane. For the first time, she saw something in his eyes other than arrogance—something that almost looked like… trust. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

“I still don’t like you,” she said, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

Zane grinned. “The feeling’s mutual.”

796 words

total: 2363 words

Weekly Three:
Part 1:
Guy who is evil for no reason:
This is a character who has no motivation for their evil deeds. It’s not revenge, it’s not for anything. They’re just evil. Snore.
Pros:
It’s super funny if you’re doing it for comedy.
It’s a good jumping off place for your story BUT only if you use it to grow the villain’s character later.

Cons:
It doesn’t make sense as a character trope because people fundamentally aren’t like that.
It doesn’t work as a way to show how evil a character is because we have no expectations for their morality.

Character whose only personality trait is “angst”:
This is a character trope of a character (usually male, a misunderstood bad boy type) who has no personality outside of their angst. They have no aspirations or personality whatsoever.
Pros:
Another hilarious trope if you’re writing a comedy or a parody.
Your characters can grow from there if that’s where you want to start them from (but I would not recommend building your characters from their angst up).

Cons:
It’s super boring and it shows a lack of depth in writing character traits
Gacha kid vibes (not hating… trust me i’ve been there :sob: my main OC was like this for years but honestly i’ve been able to grow his character past that)

Love is their only motivation:
This is another character cliche where the villain is only motivated by love. They turn to a life of evil out of love or in an attempt to get back something they’ve lost (psst…. hawkmoth).
Pros:
At least it’s better than the “evil for no reason” trope…
You can easily put a new spin or a new take on this trope to give it more life
Able to showcase how grief and anger translate into action

Cons:
Pretty commonly used so it doesn’t make for a new or interesting storyline.
Usually the motivations don’t line up with the actions taken

The main character is a “nerd who is also an orphan and also gets bullied” (the chosen one evil twin):
This is a character trope where the main character is a sad, lonely little orphan who is bullied and has a sad life and oh my god wouldntyouknowit he’s actually super cool and awesome and magic! Wow, that’s so cool and unique!
Pros:
Can be kind of cool if you put a twist on how it’s done. In the book "Carry On” (harry potter parody but gay), the main character is the ‘chosen one.’ Except wait, no he’s not. You could also make being the chosen one a bad thing. Or do literally anything else to make this trope less cliche.

Cons:
It isn’t a unique plotpoint
It shows a lack of unique character types that you are able to write.

The evil twin cliche (yall are gonna wanna hear my story with this one).
No explanation. Just story. There is this show, this awful, awful show. It’s called Roman Mysteries. And it is. It is just. The worst show I've ever seen in my life. Horrifically bad. The big twist at the end of the show? Evil twin. This cliche is SO overdone. This isn’t some big reveal or crazy twist, it’s just a redundant plot point.
Pros:
NONE
It’s hilarious as a parody

Cons:
It is so, so, so, boring.
Everyone will know what’s coming because of how overdone it is
No one is surprised by this
It makes your writing weaker because it shows a lack of ability to come up with meaningful twists for the story to take naturally

Tip: make your big reveal less about the character and more about their actions. It isn’t surprising that a character has an identical twin or one of those crazy injury reveals. Your reveal or twist should be an ACTION taken by the character, something that goes against what they’ve done before instead of something outside of their control. In my novel, Seris never rebels. She does what she’s told. She doesn’t change. She operates outside the rules of reality despite her own morals. But she breaks that expectation by freeing a set of dangerous criminals, showing that her willingness to help others is stronger than her fear of consequences. This is a more shocking reveal than if she had an identical twin sister who did those things instead of her, because we have no expectations for actions that aren’t in control of the character.




Part 2:

“Well, look who it is.” Kai glared at me. “Seris.”
“That’s not me, I swear…” my voice trailed off, because I was so, so confused. The girl looked just like me, but that wasn’t me. I would never do something like that. “I… what’s happening?”
Mak’s eyes, cold and bitter, turned to me. “We’ve always known what a liar you are. Lie through your teeth to save your own *.”
“No. No. Mak, guys, wait– I, I don’t know what’s happening either. Don’t. I.. I’m not sure what’s going on.”
“That’s you, Seris. What, you think we’re blind?” Kai spat.
“It can’t be…,” I trailed off again. “That… I wasn’t there. I wasn’t. I don’t know how to explain but I swear on my life, Kai, that’s not me.”
Kai narrowed her eyes. “Then who the hell is it?”
Mak stood up from her seat, her long dark hair falling behind her shoulders. “You have any relatives that look like you, Seris? A sister, maybe?”
“I’ve…,” I paused, thinking. “I’ve always been an only child. We– we could ask my mom.”
Kai nodded, indicating for me to reach for my phone. My finger barely hit the screen as I dialed her number, punching buttons as fast as I could. The phone rang. Once. Twice.
She picked up.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, trying to sound as natural as possible. “I saw–”
“Seris, what the hell have you been up to? What’s this video I’m seeing, you… freeing those… crazies? What’s going on?”
“That’s what I'm calling to ask you! I swear, I swear on my life, Mom, that isn’t me! I swear, Mom, on my life, I swear to God, that isn’t me!”
There was silence on the other end. It was the desperate kind of silence, the kind you wanted to fill with pointless promises of innocence.
But finally, she spoke. “Seris, do you remember your early childhood?”
“No. Why? Do I have, like, an evil twin sister?” It was a joke. A dumb joke. But–
A sharp inhale. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I mean… what are the odds she would turn out just like you?”
But I couldn’t hear her.
My vision was tunneling.
Everything I thought I knew.
Wrong.
All of it.
Fake.
Fabricated.
Holy *.
Why would she do this to me?
Why?
What was happening?
Nothing made sense.
And everything was falling apart.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice faltering with a heavy shake. “I… I have a sister?”
Nobody moved.
Nobody said anything.
“Yes.”
And that was too much.



Part 3:

Roman Mysteries (the worst show in history uwu) if the identical twin was actually…
Note; i do not remember this show like at all outside the moments that were so awful i almost died laughing, so i'm not sure how accurate this is but anyway

Gauis stood over the corpse, knife in hand. His left hand, specifically. If you were curious.
His eyes gleamed in the light of the candles in the room, sparkling with some twisted sense of satisfaction.
He had won.
And best of all, he could pin the blame on his brother, Marcus.
Not his brother.
Gauis’s brother.
He was maybe not entirely the man he appeared to be.
His face was contorting, his limbs twisting with disturbing cracking sounds. When his body was done transforming, he no longer appeared to be Gauis.
The woman standing in the spot where he had been just moments prior held her head high, her hair pale in the glow of the fire. Thetis.
A shapeshifting goddess, out for revenge.
Her expression was poised, smiling in the eerie light that filled the room. She had done what she had set out to do.
Her revenge framing Marcus for this was such a feel good moment, the satisfaction burning on her skin. He had done the unthinkable, letting his child and her pretentious friends run amok playing heroes, disrupting systems that were clearly working.
But who was I really framing? The knife in my left hand indicated that I had been playing Gauis all along, making the discovery of Marcus’s innocence more easily achievable.
It wouldn't be long before the girl and her team of children detectives found out the truth. Despite their immense stupidity, they always seemed to succeed at whatever they were doing. I almost gave away my location as I exhaled loudly in frustration. What kind of twisted story was this? A team of four children that didn’t understand anything at all could beat a god?
It was unrealistic.
They had to have help.
Right?
There was no way I, a goddess of the sea itself, capable of being anyone, anywhere would be beaten by four children who barely knew right from left.
Oh, but I knew how they kept winning.
It was that boy. The one in the middle, with the curly hair. What was his name? Jonathan.
Yes.
He had those stupid psychic dreams.
He knew exactly who I was and he would surely tell the other less than exceptional detectives. Detectives in quotes.
How did he do it?
Did someone bless him with that power? Someone on our side?
A god?
No. That couldn’t be it.
In any case, I had to leave.
I stepped out of the room, walking out of the house as myself.
I didn’t need to hide, anyway.
I was a god.
But there they were. Those stupid children. Waiting. Watching. Their eyes pierced through me, and I knew that they knew what I had done.
How?
Well, that was impossible to figure out. They were easily the stupidest of any “detective” I had ever met, to be sure. And I’d been alive for hundreds of years.
Perhaps they were gods as well.
No… that wasn’t it. People always talked about some things being “so bad they’re good.” Maybe this was the case for these child idiots. They were so incredibly stupid that they were actually very smart.
That had to be it.


Part 4:

I touched the necklace around my neck instinctively. It was cold. But it was solid.
More solid than anything else.
My mother’s fake smile.
The cheers.
The laughing.
Our group.
Everything was falling apart so, so fast.
First, Mak had dumped me.
Left me with nothing but the hollow heart of what we used to have.
Left me alone.
I sat still, staring at my own reflection like it could somehow keep me from falling apart. My hair
was down, the dark pinkish purple falling in waves around my shoulders. I looked hollow.
Dead.
A corpse.
I think that's when it hit me.
Seris wasn’t our curse.
I was.
I was never enough.
Not like them.
They were brave.
They weren't afraid of retaliation. Not like me.
I sat in the dark, blankets wrapped around my body, unable to get warm. It was cold. We had heat. It was on.
This was an overwhelming sense of nothingness.
Like there was just an empty hole inside me, consuming me despite its lack of anything.
I was alone.
Now.
Forever.
Because I had left.
Normally, I had Mak to comfort me. She kept me warm, wrapped her arms around my body as I freezed in my palace. She was… everything to me. And now she was somewhere else, sitting in the same cold darkness but without anyone.
I missed her.
I missed the way she looked at me.
Even in anger, she was so much more.
That’s what they had taken from me. And they would take much more, everything I had, anything I had left. That’s why I was so… afraid.
They didn’t understand. Nobody understood why I felt this fear that they did not.

“I’ve made my decision,” I said, facing the people in front of me.
My mother smiled. “Hmm?”
I looked into her eyes, my heart accelerating. “I’ll stay. I’m sure I can… I can find another group.”
“This is why you’re so well liked, Kai’isha. You know what’s important. That’s so valuable these days,” she purred. “If you stay this way, you’ll be so much better off.”
Tears welled up behind my eyes. I wanted to leave. I wanted it more than anything. But I knew what it would cost me.
Everything.
I already lost Mak.
I couldn’t lose this too.
It would be too much.
But what was I getting out of this?
No.
I had to stay.
No matter what the others thought of me.
“You know, your little blue haired friend was the one who turned them against you. Can’t you get revenge against her? Be better.”
My father spoke up. “Yes… I agree. You can just be better than her.”
No.
I couldn’t.
Seris was twice the person I would ever be.
But I nodded anyway. “I’ll have to find a new group.”
They nodded. My mother’s fingertips lingered on her teacup, her eyes laced with venom. She won.
She always did.
Whatever. It was fine.
I could move past this.
I could be better than Seris and all her psycho friends.
It would just take a bit of elbow grease.
A bit of effort.
Yes.
That was it.
Just some careful corpse charisma.
I could do it.
I did it once, didn’t I?
I would leave them to fend for themselves. They were nothing without me, anyway.

My mother arranged a small hangout for me and a similarly aged girl from another family. They were just like us. She, like me.
Militia.
She was Amirrora’s cousin. She was so much better than Amirrora, though.
And we got along so, so well.
“Hello, Kai,” Militia said, her voice laced with careful excitement.
We were so similar. “Hey!”
“Come on up,” she said, beckoning me towards the stairs from her spot on the second story balcony. “I have a really amazing surprise for you.”
She was perfect.
She was everything I needed right now.
I was stupid to have even considered following my group. Maybe me and Militia could even form our own group, just me and her.
She was so much better than Mak.
But she was different, too.
She didn’t love me.
At least, not the way Mak did.
And as I followed Militia to her room, running through the motions, the lack of trust was apparent.
I had made a mistake.

Tropes: lovers to enemies, protagonists turning “evil”, non romantic soulmates
2482 words