I’m back here again, and I’m so tired. I’ve been up all night. Aurora is trying to sleep right now, I think. And I don’t know about everyone else. I think Wari said something about being on soon, though?
So I have hope. It’s been a long and arduous battle this Cabin Wars, and it’s still far from over. I believe we have three active wars right now, with this one due in about 30 minutes. But I’m almost done with it, only 600-something more words to go. I already forgot the exact number. DId I mention I’m tired?
It feels weird to be the one carrying a whole cabin. It’s, you know, gratifying to see that I’m making a difference, but also a bit of a pain to shoulder the fate of everyone in this studio. I don’t resent them for being absent, but man, it would be nice to have a bit more help. Being the only one online is exhausting.
Although, I guess I did say in my last ramble that I enjoy challenges. And that’s true. But I also enjoy getting sleep. There’s got to be a tradeoff between the two somewhere. I know I don’t usually cut the right balance with my procrastination shtick and all, but I’m sure making up for it now.
I keep reloading my messages with the hope that someone else will contribute words, but so far, Aurora has been the only one assisting me. It’s almost time for people on the east coast of the United States to be waking up, though, so usually that means more traffic? It did last Cabin Wars, anyhow.
I think I can make it if I just finish this war and the next one, then leave the remaining one to whoever else is online by then. It’s not as hard as I’m making it out to be. Or, at least, that’s what I’ll tell myself. I tend to be able to make myself believe what I have to in order to reach a goal.
Hmm, only 340 words so far. I need to double that. What else can I ramble about, other than my incessant moaning over having to do actual work? Oh, I know. Turtles.
Turtles are always the answer.
There are turtles whose heads retract straight back into their shells, and turtles that curve their necks sideways to fit them in. Sea turtles can’t pull their heads inside their shells at all.
Those that pull their necks straight in are called Cryptodira, and I think there’s probably a pun that can be made there about the value of crypto or whatever. Someone who is more knowledgeable than me and also a turtle nerd should really get on that.
I think it would be cool to have a turtle shell, though I can’t say I would want it on my human body. It would be way too awkward and uncomfortable to go about my daily life. I mean, going through narrow doorways, sitting on chairs, bending down to pick stuff up? That’s like 85% of my waking actvities on an average school day, and all of that would be impacted if I had a turtle shell.
Yeah, if I had a turtle shell, I’d want to be an actual turtle, too. They’re the ones whose lifestyles are built for it, after all.
Okay, 559 words, I’m nearing the end. I have literally been rambling about nothing of consequence this whole time. I guess that’s kind of the nature of the word ramble in my usage, though, even if I recognize that it doesn’t necessarily mean that for everyone. In fact, I think important truths are hinted at in many people’s rambles. And hey, maybe mine too, and I just haven’t noticed.
Maybe someday I’ll look back at this. And probably cringe, but, you know, whatever. It’s for the words!

I’m soloing another war, from the looks of it. In fact, I just posted a comment telling people to focus on the other war so I could focus on soloing this one. It’s small, only 2,000 words, which I already proved I could handle with the ramble before last.
I am making more typos, however, which isn’t ideal. I know it doesn’t really matter, and I could just ignore them and still count the words, like I do for the hydra challenge, but it’s annoying to me. I don’t like errors. Not in spelling, not in grammar, not in formatting. Maybe sometimes in art, since happy little accidents or whatever. But you get my point, don’t you, dear Google Doc?
I don’t like messing up. What’s the word for fear of failure again? It was in that one Dream manhunt fan song by CG5. I kind of remember how to say it, but, perhaps ironically, I don’t remember how to spell it and I’m too afraid of spelling it wrong to try. And, of course, I can’t be bothered to look it up when I’m on a time crunch.
“Time crunch” is such a weird phrase. I’m not sure how “crunch” really applies to time, other than the fact that people working under pressure can go “crunch” if the pressure is too heavy.
My pressure isn’t too heavy, though. It is just SWC at the end of the day. Right? Well, maybe not. Maybe my ability to overcome this challenge speaks to how I’ll overcome more important challenges in the future. Maybe this is my training. AFter all, if I give up now, then I’ll probably keep doing that for the rest of my life.
And, physically tired though I may be, I am more personally tired of being complacent. I spend way too much time not accomplishing anything. I tell myself I’m gaining the resources I need to keep going, but I know myself well enough to tell that that’s a lie. I’m just lazy sometimes.
The stupid thing about being lazy is that you’re too lazy to try to change yourself, either. Normally, I’m pretty good at that, or at least I try to be, but I’m not the epitome of productivity, no matter how much I’d like to be. I’m a human, and my instincts are trained to conserve energy.
I guess that was helpful once, when food was scarcer, but in the modern world, where calories are plentiful and exercise often expensive, in time and/or money, it’s a less useful behavior. The weird thing is, I feel like that’s one of those things that can be fixed. With enough rewiring, plus external motivation or the imitation of it, it is an instinct that cna be suppressed or at least lessened.
Maybe that’s just the Comet in me, seeing a problem that stems from nature’s millions of years of evolution and immediately being like “ah yes, I can solve that,” but the confidence is nice. Maybe believing I can overcome it is a significant step in actually overcoming it.
That train of though always sems to come back before long, huh? It all comes down to what you think. Reality is what you make it out to be. Truly believe in the way you want things to be, and you’ll either manifest it or fool yourself so hard that it might as well be that way, from your perspective. But, you know, still update your priors when you get new data. That’s important too. Be open-minded. Be okay with uncertainty sometimes. And all that jazz.
But that’s not really what I want to talk about anymore. I can hack away at that personal philosophy some other time, ideally wehn I am more awake and writing more coherent sentences, not this rushed dump of letters.
It’s 639 words already, though, so I’m making good time. I imagine my writing to be sort of like a train, having to keep to a certain schedule so that the passengers can get where they’re needing to go. The passengers being the words, and the destination being adding them to the word-adding thread. Without their commute, the workforce would collapse The workforce being my cabin’s success.
That metaphor is quickly getting out of hand, or, dare I say, off the rails. I think I have a tendency to overuse analogies sometimes. Because analogies are like paragraphs, in that I’m making one right now. Yup, another altered xkcd quote. I wonder how many of my “original” ideas are just a patchwork of stuff I’ve accumulated in my thoughts throughout my life? Probably most of it.
I mean, how are you supposed to dream up something without having at least one data point to base it on? Even if that data point is “There’s this thing that is this way. What if it were a different way?”
True originality is perhaps impossible, then. Which isn't to say everything is plagiarized, but all inspiration had to come from somewhere. I have my interests that inspire me and undoubtedly influence my ideas. We’re all the product of the world around us and our innate tendencies.
This feels like it’s getting dangerously close to the free will argument, so let’s avoid that. Actually, no, I changed my mind just now. Let’s do that.
The reality the brain perceives isn’t actually accurate to the “real” reality, as signals take a while to travel, and bodies generally have predictive abilities that unconsciously determine movement patterns and such. The brain has this whole thing where it simulates different potential outcomes without “you” even knowing or being aware of it at all.
It probably isn’t that much of a stretch to say that the conscious “you” is sort of a simulation of the brain as well. It’s convenient to think of oneself as a singular agent in a larger world, but really, you’re not just one thing. When it comes to your decisions, actions, and what happens to you, there are a bunch of factors at play, both inside and outside of “you.”
So I suppose what I’m trying to say is that the answer to “Do you have free will?” is “Define “you” and then we’ll talk.”
Okay, I am definitely getting way too philosophical for just a normal SWC ramble. What happened to that thing I said about rambles not containing anything of substance in my usage? That wasn’t even that long ago I said that; it was right in my previous post.
I’m already conflicting with myself. More proof that “me” is not a self-consistent entity. But anyhow! I’m at 1,102 words and still going strong. I’m going to take a brief break to check if anyone else is online yet…
Oh, hey, Wari has arrived! I’m so happy! Wari, your presence is like the dawn that is currently breaking through my windows. My morale restored, I will… Well. Go back to typing this same ramble that I was before I checked my messages.
Maybe I didn’t really need the morale boost to get things done. It still feels nice, though! I will just finish these words here and then add them, since it looks like Wari is contributing to the 2,000-word war even though I said I would solo it.
Oh well. I’m sure she’s just trying to encourage me to rest and stop doing this to myself. Not that I’m not having fun. As much as I complain about being tired, this is what makes it all worth it. No satisfaction without pain. No success without sacrifice.
Okay, okay, for real, I’ll stop being dramatic, finish this paragraph, add the words, and then see what remains to be done. Cabin Wars hasn’t broken me yet!

Rise from the Ashes
1759 words

The gentle singing. Drifting through the air. A reminder of our past and our future. A reminder of war. A reminder of the rebellion. A reminder of how to rise. Rise from the ashes.

I heard the guns before I saw them. The dreaded whistling of them shooting through the air. The desperate shouts for help. The harrowing raw screams that rang in my ears. It had been like this for days.
“Lena!”
I glanced up to see Elijah, my fiance, towering over me, his face taut with worry.
“We have to go, now,” He told me urgently, his voice cracking in fear. “It’s not safe in the hospital.”
I glanced back at the hospital beds that lined the corridors.
“But we’ve managed to survive here for so long already! Why leave now?”
He swallowed. “I got told that they’re… bombing all of the hospitals in Odesa.”
“But the patients! We can’t just leave them!” I cried, tears stinging my eyes. “We have to save them. They’re our responsibility.”
His lip wobbled and he steadied himself on my arm.
“They won’t live. None of them. The ones who have a chance already escaped. They’re too weak. I’m sorry. But we have to save ourselves.”
I shook my head grievously. “There must be another way.” I murmured. “There has to be.”
“I’m sorry.” He repeated.
He took my clammy hand in his and led me out of the hospital, my whole body shaking uncontrollably as the patients gazed after us, the sparks of hope dying in their eyes as they faced the brutal reality of death creeping up on them.

We stumbled through the doors of the hospital, and immediately burning ash met my skin, searingly hot. I wrapped my lab coat tighter around myself, ignoring the crimson stains that dotted its surface.
I surveyed the city. Soldiers patrolled the streets, guns cocked, their faces dull and expressionless. Flames licked up the sides of buildings, greedily swallowing them. The whole place was littered with rubble and people fleeing for their lives.
Elijah tapped me lightly on the shoulder.
“Are you OK?”
I gave him a weak smile. “I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t. Every fall, every failure, every death I witnessed was like a stab to my heart.

A cold hand gripped my leg. I jumped, startled, and looked down. An old man lay there, his leg trapped under a coarse boulder, a scarlet river trickling down his sandpapery skin. His eyes were hollow.
“Please, take my little girl.” He begged hoarsely.
I spied a small toddler gripping his hand tightly, her back hunched.
“I promised her parents I would keep her safe. I swore. But now I can’t. Please, you have to save her from this place.”
His breathing became fast and shallow, his final ones escaping his chest and his hand loosened on the girl’s, his head lolled back and he went limp.

The girl’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Granddad? Wake up.”
But he didn’t move. A lump rose in my throat.
“Come on, let’s go.” I urged the girl, delicately pushing her away. Her body was thin. Too thin. Her skin was pale, almost translucent.
She wrenched her arm from mine and raced back to her granddad, pleading with him to wake up.
“Please, you can’t leave me!” She sobbed.
I separated her from the old man, hating myself every single second that passed. How could I take a little girl - only a few years old - away from her only family? But I had to. She shoved me and screeched and wailed, but I just kept on walking further and further away, hand in hand with Elijah.

Planes whirred above us, gliding in and out of the dark, ominous clouds, bombs plunging from their bellies straight towards us.
“The hospital.” Elijah muttered. “They’re actually bombing them.”
My eyes widened in horror. The bomb was hurtling straight towards the hospital. The patients. Who we had abandoned just a few minutes ago. They were going to die.

I uttered a short prayer for them. There was nothing I could do now. I watched, glued to the spot, frozen in anguish, as the bomb crashed to the ground, erupting in flames. The building collapsed in on itself, smoke wreathing around the charred remains of it. Then after that… silence. A hushed intense silence that hung over the city.
Our flag fluttered in the air, torn and ripped. The stark yellow was muddy and faded and the ocean blue was practically disintegrating. But I still felt a wave of comfort wash over me looking at it. Home.

I began to sing. Quietly at first as my voice regained itself, but then slowly louder. The words of a lullaby my mother once sang to me on her deathbed. About rising from the ashes. We used to sing it in school when we were younger. Before the war.
Elijah joined in and people around us did as well. Some sang the words off by heart, others just hummed. But we grew in a crescendo of music, our words weaving together to create something stunning. We had lost so much, been ripped apart for so long, and yet here we were, singing like it was just another day.

The gentle singing. Drifting through the air. A reminder of our past and our future. A reminder of war. A reminder of the rebellion. A reminder of how to rise. Rise from the ashes.

“So, what’s your name?” I asked the little girl with forced brightness, pasting a smile on my face.
“Jayla.” She replied, her arms crossed and her lips pursed.
I gave her another small smile. “That’s a beautiful name.”
She turned away. I could feel the fury radiating off her.
“Why are you angry?” I asked faintly.
She buried her head in her hands.
“All my family gone. Mummy, Daddy, Danylo, Granddad. Now just me. I angry at God. He supposed to keep them safe. But he didn’t.”
I bit my lip. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.
“Don’t be angry, Jayla. They are safe in heaven, in God’s care. This is God’s way of… helping us. Showing us how far we’ve gone wrong. He’s trying to make people do something about it. Make us better. Cleaner. Don’t-”
“Lena!” Elijah called.
I could hear the fear lacing his tone. Panic coursed through me. I turned towards him. Just like the old man, he was splayed out on the ground, blood peppered across his skin. A bullet was sunk deep into his flesh by his shoulder and another in his stomach. The shiny sickly red pooled around him.
I crumpled down beside him, tears cascading down, soddening my clothes.
“Don’t leave.”
A smile danced on his lips and he lifted his hand to my face, groaning in pain.
“I don’t want to d-die. I’m s-scared, Lena…” He stuttered.
So was I. He couldn’t die. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
“You’ll be fine.” I lied, “You’ll just sleep for a bit and you’ll be fine.”
He shook his head. “Back soon.”
I laughed bitterly. He clutched my hand tightly, his knuckles a pearly white.
Then he relaxed. His hand hung slackly from mine. His eyes glazed over.

I screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

Raw.

Unearthly.

Chilling.

“Lena?”
I was startled out of my grief by Jayla's harsh voice.
“There are scary people walking towards us.” She stated solemnly.
She was right. Soldiers were marching towards us, brandishing their rifles. I had to forget Elijah for now, I had to keep Jayla safe.
“We need to hide.” I whispered.
I dragged Jayla towards the hospital. They wouldn’t look there.
We were just metres away from the doors, from safety, when a large crowd of bedraggled people swept us up, pulling us away. I elbowed against them, reaching out for the hospital, but they were too strong. Drawing us away.

Maybe they knew where they were going. Maybe they knew how to escape. Maybe they knew how to live.
I scooped Jayla up in my arms and reached out for Elijah’s hand. But it wasn’t there. I swiped at my eyes, brushing away tears and tried to push the thoughts to the back of my mind.
We walked for what could have been minutes, hours, days, even weeks. Everything seemed blurred and faded. Like there was a wall separating me from the rest of the world. Voices were muffled. Faces were hazy.
And then, we were there. At the train station. The familiar rattle of trains passing by filled my ears. We ducked underneath a coarse rope and scrambled over the barriers.

A lady with a mint green hijab and crinkled eyes touched my arm softly.
“There are no normal trains now. Some are filled with prisoners and some with ammunition. Don’t hesitate to jump on one if they stop. Otherwise the soldiers on them might see you.” She advised me. I nodded my thanks and carried on walking.

I reached the platform and poised myself on the edge of the line, ready to jump on, being bustled by hundreds of people desperately trying to get a spot on one. I hugged Jayla even tighter as a train approached. It came in a flash. And it didn’t stop.

I could have cried with disappointment. But I bit it back. There would be others.
And sure enough, half an hour later, a train stopped. The carriages were loaded with cargo and made of rickety wood. People swarmed onto it, finding any space they could. I eventually squeezed myself and Jayla on and was immediately met with a musty aroma, days of sweat and rotting food. I gagged, bile rising inside my throat.
I sat us down in a small corner. The train juddered along shakily. But we were safe for now. That was what mattered.

Through a rough hole in the wood I could see the sky. Unlike before, the sun was glowing, streaks of amber and ruby painting its subtle blue canvas. Joy bubbled up inside of me.
We would survive.
Whatever it took.

I began to sing. The same lullaby as before. And, like before, people joined in. All of us, united in song. Uncontained elation escaped me and I laughed. A proper laugh. A spark of hope ignited in me.

I felt free.

The gentle singing. Drifting through the air. A reminder of our past and our future. A reminder of war. A reminder of the rebellion. A reminder of how to rise. Rise from the ashes.

writingggg random stuff for cabin waras (pt 3) yes I could actually be productive and write things that are actually productive but why would I do that? so this is towards sunny's war and then after that we have the war from dystopian and then we have dystopian's war and then illu-fi's why are there so many words to write… I don't feel like writing 200 words in archaic it's low key not worth it because it takes up so much time and I only have an hour to write so I am just going to write random words to finish sunny's war and then do or really start dystopian's war and then they can work on the other war ugh I only have an hour and I should probably find something productive to write about instead of this. How about after I finish writing this war I will actually write real stuff? I could write my weekly but I have no ideas or motivation. THat's a lie I actually did have an idea if I can just make it a joke story and continue the story of ducky and duckletta and I make them have an enemies to lovers story lololol and I include some other tropes and then write seven hundred words of that. Writing a lot of words is so hard. I struggle with writing words. Sometimes. Why am I in this camp bro like fr- anyway it's okay and we don't complain - we get what we get and we don't get upset - which is all these stupid four thousand and four thousand five hundred wars like please stop I can't stand it because then the three hours isn't really enough time to finish unless I write by myself at my top wpm and keep doing it I'm actually a legend on ntro type but I can't click enter to auto complete words here unfortunately what if I just lied no I wouldn't do that that's dishonest but of course I'm still thinking about it please nobody take that out of context. Ok i am probably at around three hundred fifty words now i must keep going and write to finish this war it is all so confusing and I must also separate my conjunctions or contractions i can not think right now but you know what I mean it makes some extra words not that many but every bit helps. I love how I am finishing like half of my word goal from just spamming words during cabin wars even though i was inactive for a lot of the session that is so funny but it is okay because I was sick with bad stuff so I did life > swc for once but not today because it is cabin wars and I missed the first cabin wars so I shall put all my energy towards this one. Maybe I should write the two hundred words in old speak - I will because then I will be done with this war after and any leftover words I can take from this and start a new war.

This suckeths so much. I must write words. Thou must too suffer as I have. I shalt wreak havoc among the other cabins by continuously planting four thousand five hundred word wars. I declare war! Against all our allies whom hast betrayed us. (that grammar is so bad haha) For example, the daring alana from fan-fi whom hast warred us multiple times. Maybe we shouldst switch our enemies and allies - keep your friends close and your enemies closer - as part of the plot for the allies are the real enemy and the enemies are allies with the wicked witch. That wouldst been cool if we switched our enemies halfway through. Woe is me! I must write two hundred more words like this. I am running out of olden speak to say. What ever shall I do? I shall suffer on and continue to writeth for I must for glory and for my cabin. I shall maketh upeth more words that sound as if they are oldeth to write in olden speak for who really cares anyway? Certainly not me! Please sayeth it is so that I hast finished writing in this old tongue… I hast not? But I am merely ten words away? Land ho! The end is in sight! We may now docketh on it's shores and bask in the glory of winning! (224 in old speak)

more stuff for cabin wars - it is time to ramble on again for cabin wars because there are not many people on and I must contribute a lot because I feel like it. I only have half an hour left and I know I said I would be productive and work on something actually important, but I don't have anything good for the weekly and I know that this is the best way I can help. There's also a fifty headed hydra challenge so I'm going to do that in this next paragraph.

alright I am going to try another one of these darned fifty headed hydras I haven't won a single one of these yet but I've gotten pretty close I was only like forty words away one time. I just need to write super fast and not worry about what I'm writing and accept that it will be a ramble full of run on sentneces. I should also at some point do a writing contest entry. Maybe that idea I had, The art of second chances? I don't really know what it would be about htough if it would be a monologue or an actual story or a character monologue within an actual story. But there really is no point in not entering it is basically a chance at free points and we need to at least win something because the writing competition is really important for the final standings. Like it really means everything in this camp because it is for all the marbles. Like usually a person winning the writing comp can win it for their cabin. I don't expect to win at all but I would hope to win something small with whatever I can put together in such a small amount of time. I also really do have to finish my weekly because I would hate to put all that work into it and not get the three thousand points for my cabin. I just need to find motivation and ideas for the last section. I might end up doing that stupid duck and duckletta thing just to get it done, I see no problem with that! It is currently WARRR on the yellow brick road - we should also probably finish up that poetry challenge because I know we all forgot about it especially after cabin wars. Even if I am just doing this and rambling it does feel really nice to be contributing to my cabin and helping a lot. I also reached my word goal earlier and like five thousand words or around a third of it was just from doing cabin wars for a couple hours last night! Look at what I can do in such little time if only I were motivated like that all the time. I am kind of behind on this fifty headed hydra challenge I know just by based off of looking at where I am on this forum I should write double time this last part the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog or something or some story about cats or some kind of writing any kind of writing at all any and all words count and matter all words matter just like all lives matter any words I can write in ten seconds will do I need to stop making mistakes I need to stop correcting them this is such a run on sentence and I'm out of time.

OHH MY GOSH DARN IT I DID FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR WORDS WICH IS ONLY SIXTEEN WORDS AWAY FROM TRYING THAT HYDRA CHALLENGE AND ACTUALLY BEATING IT but like who actually is beating it that is really hard and I'm really kicking myself right now because I was actually so close… I really neeed to finish this war though i'm basically soloing it oh wait I'm not! Because lynx wrote four hundred words and kiara wrote like seven hundred that is actually so helpful because now instead I only need to write two thousand words towards this challenge to finish it which is still a lot but every bit of help helps! I have probably written about six hundred words oh wait oh dear I have a lot of words to write and I should also probably do a writing comp entry and my weekly oh dearr wait it is all hitting me like a truck how much I really should still do for this camp in the next two days ugh but instead I'm sitting here rambling which not to discredit that because rambling is great and helpful and gets me a lot of words quickly because I can think and type fast but there are way better things I could be writing the only downside is that it is less words and not fast enough so maybe I'll just do this until the half hour when I have to leave for my lesson and then when I come back I'l write something real and productive. Also he just came into my room trying to charge his stuff and it is like get your own outlet bro don't be unplugging all of my stuff in my room and interrupting my cabin wars writing because you lost your stuff chargers and outlets and you're confused like can't you see I am typign away at lightning speed here trying to get words written? I am just writing and writing and it's slightly boring because I'm just thinking and having my hands do work for me and I have so much schoolwork to complete but I feel guilty because instead I'm sitting here rambling because it's the best strategy for stupid cabin wars okay maybe I won't just ramble for a whole half hour maybe I will use fifteen minutes for something useful and check my homework or something because I am lowkey carrying right now but moosey and silverlynx have also been super helpful and of course kiara wrote those seven hundred ramble words but I also was part of two other wars last night and solod one of them writing a ridiculous amount of words to save us because i'm just dedicated like that and here I am doing it again writing like another one thousand words probably already almost at a thousand words which is crazy… I feel like moosey and i are in the same timezone but she went to sleep earlier and got up earlier and I went to sleep way later because I had to solo that one war and then woke up later (i actually cancelled one of my activities for this because I'm also stilll sick and didn't want to go because sick and tired is a terrible combo so yay I slept for once) I am running out of things to write. There once was a cat named cat. I have no other creative names for a cat. Maybe… i actually don't know why can't I think of a name for a darned cat this is ridiculous what is goign on on wait it was two thousand five hundred words that I really technically have to write not just two thousand yeah heck no I'm not doing all of that by myself I have to leave in like fifteen minutes.

Maybe I should brainstorm a writing comp entry. It would be called The Art of Second Chances and why am I wasting this here who knows whatever it is fine who am I kidding I'm not going to use it somewhere else and it's not like I'm going to lose my brainstorming I have this linked in my megathread post. So it's basically like an opening monologue of a character's inner monologue. And she talks about the art of second chances, and how not everyone gets one and does everyone deserve one? Some people need them. And she then focuses more on herself, saying that she was lucky enough to be given a second chance. (She has been humiliated and now gets to go to a new school and start over and create a new person to be, which not everyone gets to do so she is lucky, but she could also get into the fact that she has parent issues and can't get a second chance with that. You can't just walk up to god or whomever and ask “hey, could I be born to a different set of people? these ones didn't do too great of a job raising me” right

or I could just submit that one weird daily I wrote that was kind of poetic lyrical monologue wait how is a monologue lyrical I have no idea I am just back to rambling again aaah but I need to to write tehe words how has it only been three minutes my right wrist is getting tired why should it be my responsibility to write all these or this but it is and I took it and I made it mine in my head so now my brain is like “you committed” and stuff which is why I keep writinge even though I'm bored of rambling but don't want to work and am in slight pain but I keep writing super fast anyway like I wrote all of this in only fifteen minutes and there's probably already like one thousand five hundred words I could be doing so many other things right now I really could be but I chose this and committed to this in my head and it's great I also hit my word goal a lot from writing toward this… I already wrote about that didn't I I cant just write the same thing over and over for words that would be cheating but I don't think I've talked about the fact that I raised it to twenty thousand yet. I remember my old days when I would write like thirty thousand words every session like it was nothing back when I was really into this sort of thing and I would stay up super late writing and waiting to war and waiting for wars during cabin wars because I was really committed. I still could, and there's evidence of it here in all the fast writing I'm doing, but it would effect me. Like somehow I would wake up the next morning completely fine after staying up and writing. Now I value sleep a lot. I also think I remember cabin wars weren't always on the second and fourth (is it the fourth?) saturday of the month but maybe it was it just wasn't announced like that but I do remember when I was a co it was like this often so idk. Should I apply to be a leader? Would I stay active? Would I be able to finish an application? I don't know, nobody knows, who knows? My wrist now hurts I should probably change position this weird position I'm in in my beanbag chair is probably not great for writing even though I am doing it and writing fast. I should take a break from this and like, play a game or something I don't know. There that should be better posture. I can also raise my hands a little because they are sweaty and cramping slightlly because I've been writing nonstop for about twenty minutes and I have written around two thousand words by now… I should count it. Darn it I didn't write two thousand words only about one thousand nine hundred. I think I am going to stick with the rambling but wait she just wrote a couple more words I think so I only have to write a couple hundred more not five hundred though like two hundred because she wrote more words and then I can add my points in the main cabin and add my words. I feel a new burst of motivation with the thought that I have help. It's a nice feeling, and when you're not alone. Shoot my thing was actually at the fifteen not the thirty I don't know why I didn't get that in my head I have to leave now but hopefully I've written enough I guess we *praying emoji*

critiqueaurieare for @essayist
this is my first critiqueaareiaire so im sorry if its bad
ps i have no clue how to do the embedding thing soo…. im so sorry

[ Steam rises from the cup like something leaving.
A ghost, a year, a girl I no longer am.
I let her go. I tell her: it’s okay. ]

great intro! really effectively hooks the reader in. one suggestion would be to add more imagery about the steam, or the cup? maybe describing what the wisps of steam looked like could lead to further description of the surroundings, which could then emphasize the change through outside symbols, like snow-to-sunshine or something like that.

[ March is thawing in the bones of the earth, and in mine.
A sparrow lands on the railing,
wings trembling with something I want to name—
a hunger, a knowing. I think I know it too. ]

i love the use of spring as a transition between winter and summer, it really helps emphasize the change! the ‘railing’ is a little bit confusing since the reader doesn’t really know where we are. railing of a balcony, boat, etc? expanding on the location could help! (although it is hinted that we’re not on a boat because there’s no sparrows in the sea so maybe i’m just being weird T-T)

[ I sip my tea and taste every time I said yes
when I should have said no.
Every time I let the world press a thumb into my ribs
and did not press back. Every time I folded myself
into something smaller, softer,
something more palatable. ]

omg no words just… tears. im in awe. this poem is so strong and powerful, especially with the tone! now that we have this symbol of tea that we’ve connected to the cup, adding something about like the wilted tea leaves would be cool? i dont really know how that would play out but just an idea


[ Not anymore.

I look in the mirror and see someone
who no longer apologizes for existing.
Who stands a little taller,
who takes up space like she was meant to. ]

SO POWERFUL? no notes girlie this is beyondddd

[ Somewhere, a new beginning is happening.
Somewhere, the sun spills itself onto the streets
like an offering.

Somewhere, I am becoming and becoming and becoming—
and for once, I am not afraid. ]

again, beautiful. the confidence the narrator has when she speaks is so perfectly communicated!! the only thing is, ‘like an offering’ sounds kind of unfinished. maybe something like a ‘like an offering to someone new’ or weird idea but ‘like a toast to someone new’

final summarized thoughts:
the tone of reassurance and confidence is so wonderfully executed! i love the use of the month of march to communicate the transition from winter to spring, aka old person to new person. i really don’t have much to say because it’s just so good!! <33

{Weekly #2: Rule Breaking}

Part 1
Prompt: Write at least 250 words of a scene where you overuse writing rules. Then, it’s time to break free and write at least 250 words in a scene where you purposefully break some of those rules!
Specific rules I’m writing with and then breaking later: don’t say ‘said’; avoid long sentences; use simple words (hehe I can’t wait to break them)

1. (346/250)“Good morning!” my teacher exclaimed as class started. It was Friday, January 5, and I was back in school after a bit of a break. We had already been in school a week after the holiday. I was still getting used to school again. After an amazing Christmas, it was hard to get back in the groove. “Good morning, Mrs. Webster!” the entire class chorused back. “Today, we’ll be discussing some common English rules,” she stated. Half the class groaned. The other half was excited, with big smiles on their faces. Who knew that some people liked learning about writing rules? Not me! “The first rule we’ll be discussing is ‘Don’t say said’. Has anyone heard of this rule?” Mrs. Webster asked. A girl in the back of the classroom raised her hand. Mrs. Webster called on Ayla. “I’ve heard of it!” she exclaimed. “You never want to use the word ‘said’ when writing dialogue. Instead, you should use words like stated, asked, questioned, exclaimed, whispered, or shouted.” “Very good, Ayla!” Mrs. Webster called. “Our next rule is ‘avoid long sentences’. Who can tell me why that’s important?” A boy with short, dark brown hair and glasses raised his hand. “William!” Mrs. Webster called. “Well,” William stated, “You don’t want to have long sentences because they can make a story confusing. Instead, you should try to use shorter sentences. If you have long ones, try to make them into multiple shorter sentences.” “Thank you, William!” Mrs. Webster beamed. “The last rule we’ll talk about today is ‘use simple words’. Katie, why don’t you tell the class why this rule is important?” Katie shyly smiled. “Using simple words is important because it can easily convey your point. If you use large words, there’s a chance that your reader won’t know what you’re saying.” “Very good, Katie!” Mrs. Webster sang. “That’s the end of class today, kids! See you tomorrow!” As the class filed out the door, I felt happy that I had learned all of these rules. I couldn’t wait to break them.

2.(312/250) Meanwhile, in a parallel universe…
“Good morning, class!” said Mr. Williams, grinning at the classroom full of kids. “How are you all doing today?” The class chorused with a mixture of “good!” and “meh…”. “Today we’ll be discussing common Hsilgne rules.” Mr. Williams said, “Now, our first one is pretty easy: always use the word ‘said’. Who can tell me why this is important?” A girl in the back of the classroom raised her hand, tentatively at first, then more confidently. “‘Said’ is a very important word in the Hsilgne language. Although you don’t need to use it in every instance, avoiding the word could make your writing sound funny.” she said. “Very good, Hannah!” Mr. Webster said. “Our next rule is ‘use long sentences’. Who can explain this rule to the class?” “Me! Me!” Robert, who sat at the front of the room and was wearing a bright red shirt with a tomato on it, said. “Okay, Robert.” Mr. Williams said, “Just make sure to raise your hand next time, because it is rude to interrupt people.” “Using long sentences is important for a ton of different reasons,” said Robert, “But the main reason is that when people use short sentences, it can make their writing sound abrupt, which is good in theory, but sometimes long sentences get the point across better.” “Very good, Robert!” Mr. Williams said. “Our last rule is, ‘use complicated words’. Does anyone volunteer to explain this one?” I raised my hand. “Em! Why don’t you give it a go?” “Well,” I said, “Not only are long words cool, they also are really fun to say and can make your reader’s vocabulary bigger. My favorite long and/or complicated words are ‘defenestration’, ‘onomatopoeia’, and ‘pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.’” “Those are some awesome words, Em!” Mr. Williams said. “That’s the end of class, kids. Have a good rest of your day!”

Part 2:
Part 3:
Part 4:

Last ramble for now!
I am getting a little sick of making these things. It feels like cheap words, but what else am I supposed to do when there’s about 10 minutes left in a war and you still need 500 words? It’s not 500 words exactly, it’s actually 524.
So I am going to just write whatever thoughts I have left in my poor overworked brain and hope for the best. I cannot let myself stop typing or else I will run out of time. I just have to keep going, an unstoppable force.
My cat just came in, but I can’t let him distract me. Man, he’s so cute. I really want to get distracted. He is sitting up in the window, a little black silhouette in the sun, looking down at the street below.
I wonder what he thinks of. Probably food and sleep and playing. Which, to be fair, isn’t that far off from what I’m thinking about right now. Particularly the “sleep” part.
I’ve sort of hit that adrnaline where the tiredness gets pushed away for a while, but I can sense that it is still there, behind my forehead somewhere. Also, the soreness in my fingers is also something I can definitely notice.
I think I’ve written more words this Cabin Wars than I ever have before. It’s quite impressive, really. I’m so productive! I’ve spent a lot of the time writing character descriptions, which is actually useful. I’ll be able to sue them on thsoe sites that want character bios. Maybe this is the first step in something new, who knows?
I really do want to participate in Art Fight this year. I still don’t have very many ref sheets for my characters, though. They’re kind of a pain to make. The one I have for Maroon took so long and I don’t even particularly like how it turned out.
If there’s a faster way to make them, I’d love to know. I don’t want to use bases, though. It isn’t accurate to the diverse body shapes of my characters. Plus, the coloring is the worst part anyway.
I’m not fully sure why I dislike coloring. I love sketching, and lineart’s mostly okay, unless it’s something particularly annoying, like hands.
Anyhow, I think I am getting close to my word goal, and- nope, only 389 words. Guess I need to spam a little longer. 5 minutes to go. Will I make it? I’m not sure. I think I can if I just stop caring so much about the words I am writing and let it come out like slop. Like this, this is an example of the thing of which I am speaking of, which I guess makes it a self-referential joke, but it is not all that funny, to be hoenst.
I am not good at being funny. I hope to improve someday, though. I am too serious when I have work to do. WHich, actually, is probably a good thing because it means I can focus better.
But still, if I want stories, people like funny. I know that people rmemeber things better when they are humorous. So yeah, another skill I can put on my wishlist of improvement.
Well, okay, was that enough tangents in this increasingly confusing ramble? Have I written enough words? Can I finally go sleep without feeling guilty? Let’s see…
Yes! 564 words, plus more once I finish this sentence!

♫ 02 critique - squidy - 475 words ♫

hi hi, just reading through the first paragraph i already really love this, but i feel like this is going to be a lot of stuff based on my preference, and you can choose whether or not to make changes on my opinions lol <3 i'm excited to read this piece!

“A short girl with light hair and bright eyes sat alone on a bench, sipping from a thermos of sweet tea, or perhaps it was hot chocolate.”
something about the way hot chocolate is placed seems awkward to me? i feel like it disrupts the flow of the sentence, though i'm not quite sure how to change it to make it better-
maybe try, “…sipping from a thermos of sweet tea, or perhaps (some) hot chocolate.”
the way you describe this character so far gives me wholesome/comfy vibes and i love it eheheh

“The rain fell on her, wetting her hair and dripping down her nose…”
love this ahhhh

the last few sentences seem a bit choppy to me. they're all about the same length and that could be the reason, so i'd suggest varying the length of each sentence to add some contrast. maybe combining a sentence with another one, or splitting one into two short sentences? i'd also recommend changing the “when” to “while”.
"She stared after them while they ambled away, then dropped her petals and watched them drift to the ground. They slowly became a darker shade as the raindrops landed on them. When the group was gone, the girl stood and left in the other direction.“
the middle sentence still feels a bit strange, maybe change ”they“ to ”the petals“?

~ (ehehe i'm stealing the way you split your paragraphs in this piece)

”The rain had stopped, but the sun still hid behind a cluster of white and silver clouds.“
this description is on point, i love the use of the word cluster rahh

ohoho a book :0 i like this kid

~

”The girl liked canvases; she liked their texture and how they looked and how they smelled, and she had licked one once but she didn't like how they tasted.“
this sentence is great, but i think using ”liked“ for the second time in the beginning sounds a bit repetitive, maybe use the word ”pleased“ before you talk about tasting it? and then i think instead of using the last ”they“ changing it to ”it had“ or ”it'd“ would make the sentence make more sense. for example: ”The girl liked canvases; their texture and how they looked and how they smelled pleased her, and she had licked one once but she didn't like how it had tasted.“

the rest of this paragraph looks great. i love your description of the towel covered in paint stains!

~

the field sounds lovely <33

”She had a thermos again, without a doubt of green tea this time, and had only just stepped into the clearing and crossed to her favorite spot near an apple tree when her gaze landed on a patch of bright blue forget-me-nots, seeming to reflect the clear sky.“
without a doubt of green tea is kind of confusing to me. i get that you're referencing her thermos in the beginning of this piece, but i'd personally change ”of“ to ”filled with“ for more clarity.

”Her mouth fell open slightly…“
love this!

”…and she gently picked up the forget-me-nots, and wove them into a crown.“
i think using ”weaving“ after the comma instead of ”and wove" helps this sentence flow better.

the last bit is great, i love how all the flowers before it symbolize and foreshadow (if that's the right word askjfhskjgh) that the girl has lost someone who she cares about. (though i'm kind of sad the girl didn't lose her friend because of death >:0 killing off characters is always the answer squidy smh /lh)

aNYway, this is an awesome piece! you did a great job using the flowers and their meanings to portray the story, and your descriptions are super good!

♫ 07 word war - finley - 234 words - loss ♫

i let out a groan as i pulled up the floorboard and my hand touched something cold. screaming at my kids was hard work, but they needed to learn one way or another, right? yelling at my little johnny boy, i called him from his spot on the couch and ordered him to come see mommy. with an upset glance, i asked him what he had put under the floor. he looked away from me, avoiding my gaze and mumbled something under his breath.
“it's not nice to lie to your mother, kiddo. what's this?”
“me and jessica wanted to make slime a few days ago but i couldn't reach the drawer with the containers so i stuffed it under there for the time being until you got home to help us but then i forgot when you got home to ask you to help and-and-and”
“yep, okay. that's what i imagined. no more making slime, okay? and please remember to ask for help next time! now i have to go wash my hands off and get a new pair of gloves from the store to clean this up. we could've had a truckload of butterflies coming after our house to get the slime!” i lied, knowing he was terrified of butterflies and would never do this again if i told him that.
he gave a nervous nod and walked out the door anxiously

critique for lily!

In the beginning, there was silence. Complete and utter silence. Then came nature, filling the gaps with its complex, softly woven melodies. Then came people, and as they searched for their place in this world they added to the noise of it. They added and added and added and as they added they took. They took until there was nothing left but their noise. They took for so long, that eventually there was nothing left to take.

i really liked the starting sentence! it really lures you into the story and makes you want to read on. the sentences are quite dramatic and repetitive, with similar structure and the added and added and added part. this was effective but make sure to not overuse this technique! another thing is the overuse of ‘they’ which might've been on purpose, since it /does/ create a flowing story but maybe do something like ‘they added and added and added and as they added they took, taking until there was nothing left but their noise.’

The day they realized was the day that loudspeakers boomed. That was the day that the people left. With a noise like never before, they lifted off and set out in search of more to take. And they left a broken world behind.

the loudspeakers booming part was admittedly a little confusing but it sticks with the theme so it still works. this was a little fast paced, i think, maybe put a little more context, like ‘so they packed their bags and with a noise like never before, lifted off and set out in search of more to take.’ the broken world part was really well thought of though! <3

At first, the sound of their machines remained. Whirring and clicking and ticking. As the years passed, gears rusted and cables snapped and everything slowed to a stop. As the years passed, the legacy of the people crumbled to dust. But there was nothing to take their place.

the sentence structures of this part were really good and very nicely placed! you used ‘as the years passed’ twice though, i'm not sure if that was on purpose? the use of the word ‘but’ implies that there should be something to take their place and is a little out of the blue, howeverrrr that may just be part of the storyline!

And so, ever so slowly, quiet took over the world. No wind, no rain, no lapping waves. No chirping birds or scurrying creatures. No voices or laughter. No ticks or clicks or whirrs.

awh </3 this part was really good, i liked your use of triple repetition! there's not much to remark about this; i really liked your use of show, not tell.

Far, far in the future, the ship landed soundlessly, and the figure stepped out, walking across the ground. There were no footsteps or breath to break the trance the world had so long been in. This world was unnerving, but still the figure continued on.

ooh, okay! a time skip! perhaps you could change to present tense since we've moved forward in time? the second sentence was a little confusing to me, but i still got the gist of it.

To the door in the wall. The door that had not opened since the day of great noise. The figure turned the lock, unsure if the ticking of it would be echoing in the space left unfilled for so long. Entering, expecting the lights to flicker on with a buzz like they always used to. They didn’t. They had been silenced long ago.

this felt really mysterious and alluring. i think instead of writing ‘unsure if the ticking of it would be echoing in the space’ you could've simplified this by writing ‘unsure if the ticking of it would echo in the space’. there was a minor tense skip with the sentence that starts with ‘entering’. the last two sentences were great!

In the centre of the room rested a chair, illuminated by the light coming through the door. In the shadow of the figure, in the chair, in the bunker, in the quiet world, there rested the pearly white bones of another that had been silent for too long.

awh wait this was so pretty in a sense! i loved the repetition in this part. what a bittersweet ending!

The sound that finally broke the quiet was that of a heart breaking.

yes!! loved it! the build up and how you explained the plot so perfectly and smoothly with such little words went really well! you really feel for this mysterious figure and the broken world!! go lily! i loved it! ^^

{Writing Dare}
from @FairyAyla: Write a story about ducks having a secret party.

If one would’ve looked through the window in the kitchen that day, they would’ve seen something that surprised them. No, it wasn’t a large racoon eating a mango. It wasn’t Yume guarding her secret stash of toes. It wasn’t Sage with her bow and arrow. It was something secret. Something dangerous. Something involving…

RUBBER DUCKS.

The ducks were doing something secret. Something dangerous. Something called…

A PARTY.

Yes, the rubber ducks were having a party right outside the Dystopian cabin. Yet no one saw this. Why? They were at the giant middle-of-session party at the Fairy Tales cabin. So nobody saw the ducks partying away. Nobody heard the loud music they played while they danced. Nobody smelled the delicious mangoes prepared 50 different ways that the ducks ate. The mangoes that had been stolen from every single cabin around camp.

The ducks were having a great time. They partied, they ate, and they knew that campers wouldn’t be back for a while. The campers were all on trains, busily racing to win the most wars to get back to the main cabin the fastest. There was no way that Dystopian would lose, the ducks knew, so the moment the campers had left, they had their party.

Where did the ducks come from? They came from Dystopian camper Em’s secret stash. She kept them at her house, but somehow they had followed her all the way to Perfaith City, where the Dystopian cabin was located.

Anyways, they were all technically there illegally, so they had to be careful not to be seen by any campers, leaders, polar bears, or hosts. Suddenly, they were all made alert by the sound of crashing in the bushes. Voices emanated from the forest surrounding the Dystopian cabin, and the ducks knew their party was over. Quickly grabbing their party supplies, the ducks skedaddled out of there like there was no tomorrow. They ran and hid in the bushes, breathing a sigh of relief as the triumphant Dystopian campers came back from their long trip, cheering because they had won.

critique for snowy 468 words

“Oceans Away”

Dear Birdie,

It’s Marin’s first day today, and there’s just something so special about watching her get dressed so carefully. Like she’s got someone to impress, even though I only ever see her around Mabel, anyway. You’d like that girl, too. She’s a good one.

Love how this starts off! I only have a few things to note here - first of all, the first and second part of the sentence “Like she's got someone…(etc)” don't seem to entirely fit with each other, if that makes sense? It's kind of like two puzzle pieces that almost fit but not quite. It's also unclear whether Henry is talking about Marin or Mabel when he says “You'd like that girl, too,” so I'd clarify which one he's referring to.

It’s kind of scary to think about how after this year, she’s going to be gone for most of the year. Think she’ll still make time for her old man? I’d hate to lose her to some school.

But we’ve still got a bit of time till that happens, right? Trying not to think about that right now.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

I was walking near the bridge, and I thought I saw you. Imagine my disappointment when I realized that it wasn’t you at all, just another passerby enjoying the winds blowing past Golden Gate.

Since I don’t have much to do anymore, I mostly play cards, maybe take the occasional walk. That’s what I did today, anyway.

The Muni’s not particularly nice or special, but it’s good enough for getting around when Marin has the car at school. I go all over the city now. Lombard (which is always too crowded for my taste, but I know that it’s your favorite) and the bridge, sometimes the Mission. I walked up to Coit — plus all its stairs — the other day. Hope you’d be proud of me. Wish it could have been with you, though.

I forgot to take a photo, but if I had, I’d enclose one here. Oh, Birdie, it’s so beautiful from all the way up there. I wish I could have taken you. You’d love it.

Love always,
Henry

Just wanted to say I loved this little section here <3

***

Dear Birdie,

Marin keeps talking about you, about how I need to find a way to bring you here, because you’re all that way away. She’s right in some ways, I suppose, but it’s not entirely possible. I always tell her, Maybe one day, because any other words get stuck in my throat.

Starting off here, “because you're all that way away” is worded so that it kind of disrupts the flow, at least for me. Maybe consider rewording it like “because you're so far away.” This also eliminates the double “way” in the sentence.

It’s hard to believe that she's already getting so mature. She’s a young woman now, not the little three-year-old you saw when you last were here. Me, an old grandfather by now. Can you believe that? Well, of course you can.

Anyway, Birdie, Marin is a senior already, and my smart girl is going to New York to major in English. Have I already told you that? Goodness me, my memory isn’t what it used to be. I kept telling her that she had so many good talents and put them to waste, but she was pretty set on the path she was taking. That’s her, my Marin. She’s passionate about those kinds of things. You would love to see her now. She’s so beautiful.

I'd delete the word “getting,” since it's not necessary to the first sentence in this chunk.
The way you paint the relationship here between Henry and Marin is astonishingly vivid for such a small section of the story - mentioning that he thinks Marin is wasting her talents, but also his praise of her, made this really stand out to me. I've always loved reading your writing, and you absolutely outdid yourself here fitting something so powerful in such a compact shell.

She’s always on me to stop smoking, saying that it’s going to make my lungs bad. Ha! As if they’re not already bad. That’s just aging, though. I bet if you were here, you’d be with her on it.

As ever, I wish you were here.

Love always,
Henry

***


Dear Birdie,

I was just thinking of you in that beautiful dress the other day, singing and twirling and dancing. It feels like that was just yesterday, doesn’t it? Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be younger like that again. Remember all those parties you used to go to? How you’d hold up a necklace and ask me to help you with it. I’d laugh and tell you how beautiful you were, and the whole time, I’d be thinking about how lucky I was that you were mine.

I miss you. I wish you weren’t so far away. I miss hearing you say everything on your mind, blurting things out without caring about being judged. You were so brave, and I always felt quiet next to you. I didn’t mind, though. I miss your laugh: the way it sounds like bells jingling. Is that a strange thing to say? I hope not.

I hope you’re doing well over there. I hope to see you soon.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

Marin asked me for pictures of her when she was younger, as a child — like a toddler or a baby, and I didn’t know what to say to her. She looked so sad, so scared to ask me. To tell the truth, it broke my heart to lie to her.

She kept saying that it was okay if I didn’t have any, but I did, and I do. Does it make me bad for keeping them from her, Birdie? It’s not because I don’t love her. Of course I do. But I’d like to keep some parts of our lives separate. It’s too painful to dredge it up again.

Will she hate me for it, Birdie? You’ve lost too — I’m sure you would know whether it’s okay, if only you would write back. But I don’t mind. I know you’ll talk to me when you can.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

Marin has prom today, and she doesn’t have a dress yet. I pulled out your old green one, the one you wore that night of one of your own dances, because it’s not like you can wear it anymore. I won’t tell her exactly where it came from. I’m not ready for that. But I’ll tell her that you sent it.

I hope you wouldn’t mind.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

I’m writing to update you, since I gave Marin the dress just now. It’s perfect, and it suits her so well. She really is her mother’s daughter.

Thank you for understanding, and I’m sorry again for all the lies.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

I keep pretending around Marin, but I feel my lungs failing with every breath, but I’m determined not to let it stop me. That smoking habit’s going to send me to hell, huh? Should have listened when she talked to me, told me to take my meds. But no meds are gonna save me, not when you’re an old man like me. Yeah, my lungs are black. So what? There’s no fixing that.

GASP NO- you've got me invested now haha. I only have one minor edit to suggest here - the first sentence in this letter looks like a run-on to me, so I'd break it up somehow. Otherwise, this is looking great!

I should’ve quit a long time ago. When you told me to, before she was old enough to do the same. She reminds me of you in so many ways that it’s painful. No wonder I love you both so much.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

I’d tell you about my health, but I don’t want you to keep hearing about all these depressing things. Since when did I get like this, huh? I used to be better.

But today I saw blood in my handkerchief. I’m not sure I can hide it from Marin for that much longer.

That’s besides the point, though. I won’t burden you with my troubles.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

The wind was stronger than usual today, and it reminded me of you. You were always on the water when you were here — remember? Surfing, swimming, kiteboarding. Whatever you could get your hands on. You’d come home shivering in the evening, and we’d have hot chocolate together by the fireplace in the main room.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

I’m so lost. Some days, I wake up, and I don’t think I’ll get out of bed. It’s good that Marin and I have our own spaces, because she would hate to see the state of my room. She’d hate me if she were to see the things I’ve hidden from her, too.

Is it selfish for me to keep pretending that everything is fine? It’s gonna break Marin. Think it already is. How I refuse to go to my doctors’ appointments unless she drags me there. How I throw out the prescriptions right on trash day so she won’t know a thing about it. I know I should do better for her. For you. But I just don’t see much of a point to it.

I wish you would respond. Why can’t you write back?

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

Saw our pictures again today. It hurts to look at them. I miss you. I love you.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

When you lose your daughter, can you still say that you’re a father? I don’t know anymore.

I can’t keep up pretenses anymore. You’re still my daughter. You always will be.

Birdie, Birdie. My Birdie. There are so many things I wish I’d done differently.

Love always,
Henry

***

Dear Birdie,

Think I’m going to take a walk down to Ocean Beach tonight. Not so far this time, so no need to take a bus. It’ll be nice, I hope. Like having you back.

I don’t like going to the beaches much anymore, though, because they all remind me of you. How you, so full of adventure on your surfboard, ready to conquer all the waves, headed out that evening to Crissy, where there’s more wind and waves. How you sailed and paddled out there but never came back. They told me your lungs filled with water. That it was painless. But that doesn’t erase any of the truth of it.

WAIT SHE'S DEAD??? WHAT.
My reaction here jsdkghajklg I'm sobbing on the inside-
This was masterfully pulled off, the only edit I have to suggest here is changing or adding to the words “more wind and waves” - more wind and waves than she can handle? Than are safe? Adding a small clarification like that can add to the sense of impending doom, as your reader begins to realize just how far away Birdie really is, and why she's never coming back.

How did I lose you? How could I?

Scratch that, about it being nice or something of that sort. Really, I’m only going out there because I’ve got to conquer my fears at some point. I can’t live this close to the ocean and be scared to death of it.

Right?


Keep thinking I’ll see you there. Call me crazy, but I’m at least half convinced you’ll swim out to meet me, and I’ll run into the water, faster than anyone my age should, and you’ll be there. I’ll hug you tighter than ever before, because by then, I’ll know what it’s like to lose you. And you’ll laugh, and oh, I swear, it’ll be magical.

By then, I’ll make things right. I’ll fix everything.

It takes me too long to remember that I’m just fantasizing.

Love always,
Henry

Snowy, the only thing I can say is WOW. This broke me in the best possible way - you're such a talented writer aaa <3 Despite my lack of knowledge of the story this was based on, you did an amazing job portraying it such a way that both those who know and those who don't can enjoy it, and the emotions were spot-on. I could feel my eyes widening when I read the twist at the end, and I had to remind myself to breathe. This was a stunning story, and I will seriously rampage if it doesn't win a prize haha.
Anyways, I don't have any other notes to include, so that's it for today! Thank you so much for the opportunity to critique this, and I hope it was helpful

Critique for Natt
548 words

OK, so first off, reading through this was really nice! I loved some of the descriptions and metaphors you used, and overall it was a really solid piece of writing!! (oh god that sounded really teacher-y LOL)

where
do we go
when we're dreaming?
the world fades
the room darkens
where
are you
Now?

First of all, this was a really great start to it and introduces the poem really well.
I think when you say ‘the world fades’ you could change it to ‘when the world fades’ and for the next line ‘when the world darkens’ as it adds some nice repetition and just makes the flow smoother.
I also think the ‘where are you’ should all be on one line, because otherwise those few lines feel a bit disjointed, and when reading through it I read it as ‘where are you’ and then ‘now.’ Again this would help with the flow!
I think overall in this verse and the last one you could add just a few more lines to add some more depth to the piece. I think it would be nice to add some more description of where you go when you’re dreaming, maybe something like ‘when you disappear into the folds/walls of your mind’ and then a few more descriptive lines!!

in the darkness,
in the the light,
a shimmering brightness,
blinding yet dim all the same
a twilight veil, a twilight vesper
floating, falling,
suspended by starlight threads
tied to the rising moon

I loved this part! The ‘suspended by starlight threads tied to the rising moon’ was so beautiful, I absolutely loved the metaphors!! (i just wanted to mention that you used ‘the’ twice on the second line haha)
I think you could put ‘all the same’ on its own just because I think the ‘blinding yet dim’ should probably have its own line for more impact. I also think you could add to the ‘twilight veil, twilight vesper’ part by adding one more twilight for the rule of three. Maybe ‘twilight cloak’ or ‘twilight grip/clutch.’
Other than that, this verse is absolutely stunning <3

just out of reach,
just beyond the distance,
swirling, shining,
brush your fingertips,
but never come closer,
how do we know it is real?
the darkness brightens,
the world returns

Maybe specify what’s just out of reach for this verse? I was a bit confused on reading it at first (and that might just be because I was reading it separate from the other verses, not really looking at context from them) but it would be better if your reader understood what you’re trying to say immediately <3
I also think the word ‘come’ seems a bit out of place, because it makes it seem as though the person that you’re writing from the perspective of is saying don’t come closer to them, but then on the next line you say ‘we’ indicating that the person is one of those people. Maybe change it to ‘go’ or ‘move.’ (or something more descriptive than my terrible examples </3)

where
do we go
when we're dreaming?
the world is there,
watching you exit,
where
are you
now?

I love the repetition of the first and the last verse, I do this all the time and it really gives a great impact on the piece!
I also love how you changed it to ‘watching you exit’ but I think ‘exit’ is a bit of a formal word?? Maybe something like ‘leave’ would fit better

And there’s my critique done! Overall, this was a lovely piece, but just try add more description in general to build more imagery for the reader over the whole piece <3 I loved your use of lowercase letters btw
Thank you for letting me critique this, and good luck if you enter this for the writing comp! ^^

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭୨ WEEKLY 3 ୧ ⊹ ˚₊‧

PART ONE:
Damsel in Distress
This trope can be very stereotypical, saying that women are helpless and have to be saved by a strong, male hero, which makes some people view it as sexist. However, the damsel in distress trope can propel the narrative, and is what moves the story forward, since the damsel will be what starts the hero’s quest.

Chosen One
This trope can be predictable, since they are ‘the chosen one’ it may be easy to predict that the hero will win. It may also make a story feel less impactful, since they became a hero simply because they were the chosen one. However, the trope can have significant character development, as the chosen one is trying to embrace their role.

Enemies to Lovers
Some people dislike this trope due to the fact that it wouldn’t make sense to fall in love with your tormenter. The transition to hating each other and then loving them may also seem unnatural. However, if handled right, it could be a very moving story about character growth and a change in perspective.

Fake Dating
Some people question the morality of fake dating, since the whole trope relies on being dishonest, and some think that the trope is too predictable. They also state that it could be an unrealistic representation of real-life relationships. However, the trope could lead to interesting character development, and a transformation from fake dating for your benefit, to actually catching feelings.

Opposites Attract
It can have interesting development for characters, since they will learn to move past their differences. It can also give us two perspectives on a topic, since the characters are opposites and fill in the gaps the other character has. However, some view this trope as unrealistic, since some think that it doesn’t make sense for opposites to catch feelings for each other.

| ♞ | ୨ 294 words


PART TWO:

Fake Relationship

I never truly loved anyone, I don’t recall ever really knowing what it meant to ‘love’ someone. I knew love by its textbook definition, it was a feeling of affection that two people would have with each other. Sometimes, I think I’m incapable of loving someone. Or, I’m someone who no one could love. I don’t think I’m upset about that either. I’m not mad about it. In fact, I find myself a bit happy because of it. It’s not what I want, so I don’t do it. Simple as that.

But other people never really seemed to understand that, as they always believed that it was unnatural for a woman to not want to love someone. They thought that a girl who held no romantic interest for someone was mentally ill, that there was something wrong with a woman like that. They thought that something was wrong with someone like me.

It was then that the constant pestering became enough, the comments of “Have you gotten a boyfriend yet?” or “I know you can love, you just haven’t found the right person.” Something inside me snapped,like the flooding of a dam. I just wanted the comments to stop, even if it meant loving someone I didn’t truly love.

I wandered off into the park, a place that I’d maybe find “true love” or whatever it was they said in the stories. It seemed like a terribly cliche place that I could potentially find someone. I made a miscalculation, seeing as I came at night. No one was at the park. It was a relatively small town, the type where everyone knew each other.

It was then that I saw someone else, a boy my age who lives across from me. He always seemed distant from me, and ever quite seemed interested in any of the girls in town, even if they were all over him due to him fitting the bill for a stereotypical popular boy. Perhaps he was like me, and didn’t love anyone. Perhaps he would understand my struggle, since he too didn’t like people. I took a breath and approached him.

“Hey. Uh…Daniel.”
“Oh, Asha.”

We both stood there in awkward silence, we both knew each other just we never really talked. I started thinking of what a crush would do, should I just confess my love to him? Do I have buildup or do I just say it? I rubbed the back of my neck trying to think of what to say.

“I- uhm…I like you? Not as a friend but uh…Like-like you?”

Daniel stared at me for a moment, before covering his mouth and letting out a laugh. I just stared at him while he laughed for a good minute. His humor was weird.

“I’m sorry, you- no you don’t.” Daniel had a goofy smile on his face, “Besides, you’re not my type.” Daniel sat down on a nearby bench. “Hey, secret between you and me but…I’m not into girls.”

I sat down an appropriate distance away from him, leaning my head against my arm. “So, you just don’t like people? Cause that’s how I feel, but my relatives keep nagging me to get a boyfriend.”

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Daniel’s forehead despite the cold. “Well, not exactly. It’s just that…Well…okay…It’s like ripping off a band-aid…I’m…into guys.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say to that, I had nothing against it. Nothing really was wrong with liking guys. So I just stared at him because I didn’t want to say anything else, I didn’t wanna come off as rude. Daniel chuckled at that.

“Yeah…My people keep trying to get me a girlfriend, don’t think they’ll react too well if I told them.” It was then his face lit up with an idea. “Hey…why don’t you pose as my girlfriend and I pose as your boyfriend? Y’know? We’ll please both of our families but we’ll both know that the other doesn’t actually, y’know, like-like us!”

I paused, thinking about what he just said.

“Huh. That’s…not a bad idea.” I looked back at Daniel. “Dang, never thought you’d ever say something smart. I just thought you were one of those dumb jocks.”

We both bantered for a bit, though it was in a friendly way. Like how a brother and sister would. The idea of having a fake relationship with him seemed weird, but it was a relationship we’d both benefit from.

—

The next day Daniel came with me to my house, so I could introduce my ‘boyfriend’ to my parents. I opened the door, and I could tell Daniel was having trouble keeping a straight face.

“Mom! I’m home!”

My mom came out from the kitchen, the fresh smell of one of her home cooked meals wafted through the air. She looked at me, then Daniel. A smile crept up her face.

“Who is this? Did you finally get a boyfriend?”

I took a deep breath, attempting to carefully school my expression.

“I-…Yes…?” It came out as more of a question than a statement. However, my mother accepted the answer anyway and smiled.

“Oh, why, that’s great honey! I knew you’d find someone!” She looked over at Daniel and smiled, “I’m glad you found a fine young man like him!”

The conversation then consisted of Daniel awkwardly sputtering answers to my mother, to which I had to cover my mouth with my hand to hide a fit of giggles. We then retreated to my room, we took one look at eachother and immediately burst out laughing.

“Oh my god- no way she believed that!”
“Gosh, we were so awkward!”

We started to fall back into a series of one person saying something and the other person bouncing off of it before both of us started laughing.

“How long are we keeping this up?”
Daniel shrugged, “As long as possible I suppose.”

| ♞ | ୨ 984 words


PART THREE:

Friends-to-lovers but one never saw the other as a friend to begin with
Wait for Me Yesterday in Spring fic
TRIGGER WARNING FOR BRIEF MENTIONS OF DEATH!

“Akari,” Kanae whispered, looking up to his childhood friend. Though, now, perhaps…he thought of her as something more. “I-I have something to tell you.”

Akari perked up at this, looking at Kanae with intent eyes. Kanae swallowed, but remained focused on what he was going to say. It was too late to back out now. Kanae made eye contact with Akari, they were back in the dormant school building, talking to each other like they always would. It was a week after April 2nd, the day Akito was supposed to die.

“I- I have something I want to tell you. Something…important.” Kanae muttered, looking away from Akari so she wouldn't see how red his face was getting, sweat pricked at the back of his neck. Kanae looked back up at Akari, Opening his mouth to say something.

‘Alright, just like ripping off a band-aid,” Kanae whispered so only he could hear, he made eye contact with Akari again. “Listen- Akari…”

“What? You better not tell me my brother is gonna die again!” Akari teased, though Kanae tensed up at the mention of Akito. Akari looked back at Kanae, care in her eyes, “Listen, I’m your best friend!” Akari assured Kanae, though the words ‘best friend’ made something inside him freeze.

“I see you as more than a friend!” Kanae blurted, looking to Akari to see her reaction. She was stunned, and Kanae was afraid that was a bad thing.

“Oh…Kanae,” Akari whispered, her gaze softening. She sighed, as if she didn’t know what to do. She looked at Kanae, and opened her mouth.

“Kanae, you’re really great. You’re really kind, sweet, all that stuff. But…” Akari grimaced, “I’m sorry, but I don’t see you as a friend.”

What…?

“Oh shoot! That came out wrong! I meant like, I don’t exactly see you as a friend. I…more so see you as something like a brother, like the brother Akito wasn’t to me.” Akari corrected herself, but ‘brother’ didn’t hurt any less than ‘not a friend’.

I froze, attempting to hold back tears, I couldn’t start crying just because Akari saw me as a brother. We’re still friends, we don’t have to be lovers.. The girl I loved didnt love me back, a story as old as time, millions of other people have had that experience. In fact, I’m willing to bet it's in the billions. No need for me to get all upset about it.. I should’ve expected it, but I still was sad, just because I didn’t get my way. It was stupid, why did I feel like crying over this?.

“I-I see…” I muttered, standing up from my chair and making my way to the door. Not daring to face Akari, Akari would feel bad about making me cry but I didn't want to make her feel guilty. She has a right to who she does and doesn’t love.

“Wait! Kanae!”
“I’m sorry Akari.” I whispered, even though I knew she couldn’t hear it. I sprinted out of the school, tears staining my cheeks.

| ♞ | ୨ 505 words


PART FOUR:

Enemies to Lovers, Opposites Attract, and Secret Relationship

Kyle has always had love low on his list of concerns. His top priority has always been his grades, he never had time for friends, or leisure activities. He always thought that those were unimportant, that he didn’t need to think about those things.

Results came out for the test, and everyone groaned at the sight of Kyle being on top, he was always on top. When he looked near the bottom, he saw Aria Sato. Everyone knew that Kyle would always get the best score, while Aria would be last. Kyle disliked Aria, thinking that she didn’t take her education seriously. She never got an average score, just always dead last. She probably never studied at home, and probably was one of those party girls. Kyle hated people like her.

“She’s so dumb…” Kyle muttered under his breath, walking away from the scores. It was then that he bumped into the girl he just insulted, Aria Sato.

“No need to check, you got the lowest score, like always.” Kyle sneered, being sure to make his tone as insulting as possible. He adjusted his tie, and it was then that he noticed that Aria was practically a walking dress code violation. Could this girl really not do anything right? Kyle sighed, knowing that her future was probably over.

“Hey!” Aria yelled in indignation, before pushing Kyle to the side and continuing her walk down the hall. Kyle made his way to his class, all while wondering how Aria managed to always fail her classes. Did she just not care? And why have her parents never reprimanded her to get better grades? It was honestly impressive if you manage to fail school.

Kyle continued his day, perfecting his academics, getting 100 after 100 on his assignments. It was now a free period, so Kyle wandered down the halls of the school. It was then he heard something, a soothing melody played from a violin. It almost seemed too ethereal to be real. Curosity overwhelming Kyle, he made his way to the music room. Pushing open the door.

His eyes widened at what he saw, it was the last person he expected to see being able to play the violin. It wasn’t a prodigy or anyone super extraordinary. It was Aria, smiling as she played the melody. Kyle only stood there, dumbfounded, staring at Aria as she finished. Kyle suddenly burst into a grin, and started clapping. Aria flinched at the noise, and turned to face Kyle.

“Ack-! What- What are you doing here!?” Aria exclaimed, immediately hiding the violin behind her back.

Kyle’s heart started racing, his face turning red. Surely, surely this wasn’t…

Love?


Kyle played piano a long time ago, before he stopped to focus on his studies. It was now that he realized how impactful a melody was, how it was a terrible decision to quit piano.

It was then that Kyle realized it, the fact that this was the reason Aria always got such terrible grades, it was because she prioritized her violin over her academics. She wasn’t lazy, she was just passionate. It was then that guilt overwhelmed Kyle’s body for looking down on her.

“That was…really good.” Kyle gasped, staring at Aria. “I never realized that- wow, you’re really…talented. I- I see that this is why your grades are so bad…” Kyle looked at Aria’s violin, a smile creeping up his face. “Look, I never realized that…Wow. I- Look, I’m sorry about well- everything.”

Aria laughed, and gave a cheeky ‘no problem!’

It was from that day onwards that I realized I fell in love, that I loved the girl I was meant to hate. When I confessed this to Aria, she told me she was catching feelings too. It was then that we started dating.

“Who would’ve imagined this? A scholar and a failing student loving each other?” Kyle smirked, before Aria had a goofy grin.

“Well, you know what they say, opposites attract!”

It was then that both of us decided to keep our relationship a secret, due to the fact that we weren’t sure how people would react to us being together. We didn’t want anyone to find out, but it was alright.

It was then that I learned how to love.

| ♞ | ୨ 710 words

Tropes weekly
2120 words total

Part 1
Tropes:
Enemies to lovers
Byronic heroes
Redshirts
Villains in love
Affably Evil

359 words

Enemies to lovers can be interesting if done well, and annoying if done badly. It works better if the characters become friends first instead of going straight from enemies to lovers. There’s also a distinction between two characters who simply don’t like each other at first (because they think the other is arrogant, annoying, etc.) but eventually fall in love (with Lizzie and Darcy being the archetypal example) and characters who are, say, on opposite sides of a war—the former can be easier to pull off, whereas with the latter you may have to make up for how the characters tried to kill each other before they got together.

Byronic heroes are sometimes interesting, but sometimes they’re just annoyingly broody. They’re also not always as sympathetic as the writer intended (or as sympathetic as some fans seem to think). Also, while they were popularized by the works of Lord Byron which featured heroes like these (who were partially based on himself), these characters tend to lack some traits the real Byron had—particularly a sense of humor. Reading some of his more comedic works, it’s clear that he could be very funny, and I can understand how you’d love someone like that. A character (or perhaps person) who is “mad, bad, and dangerous to know” (as a contemporary described Byron), but is so funny, creative, charming, and clever that they’re hard not to like.

Redshirts are extras who exist just to die, so that the story can demonstrate some danger or show off a monster’s powers without having to kill off a character anyone cares about. It can be useful for that, but it can get pretty obvious, sometimes obvious enough that it gets silly—the trope is named for the Star Trek officers wearing red shirts who were usually killed by the monster of the week.

Villains in love (“Unholy Matrimony,” in TV Tropes terms) are relatively rare in fiction. Often, a villain having loved ones makes them less evil, but when their loved ones are also evil, it can humanize them without redeeming them, which is interesting to see. It can also have good comedic potential like Affably Evil.

Affably Evil can be a very fun trope. The juxtaposition of a villain’s genuinely friendly demeanor with the evil things they’re casually doing and saying can be great for comedy, and in some cases can make the villain look more suave and cool. However, if a villain is faking their affability, it can make them all the more irritating and hateable.

Part 2
Researched and wrote about Byronic heroes
442 words

Since apparently I have to do this, here I am. I’m late? Be glad I showed up at all. I’d say I have better things to do, but that would be a lie; I don’t have anything planned. Still, I’d rather be doing nothing than have to do this.
Be nice? Oh, I’m so sorry I don’t seem absolutely delighted to be in your presence; whyever could that be? … Oh, good, you do understand sarcasm; I was worried for a moment. No, you’re not that naïve.
What is my problem? Ohoho, are you sure you want me to answer that? We’ll be here all day. I inherited some of it, I suppose; you should’ve seen my mother’s temper. No, you should’ve had to live with my mother’s temper, her as your sole caregiver, you forced to live under her roof. Do you think that would leave you all rainbows and sunshine? But no, go on, tell me to cheer up. Tell me.
Ha. Yes, I thought that would shut you up. Everyone always thinks their problems are the biggest, feels they must be the most horrible thing that has ever happened to anyone, but they have never heard mine.
And that’s not even the end of it; now I’ve had to get a job. My uncle’s inheritance ran out, and now I have to work for money. Oh, why couldn’t he have been richer?
Oh, don’t give me that look. What is that—disdain? I know, it is disgraceful that I must work. Take on jobs so far below me. It’s humiliating. So unfair. You don’t have to rub it in.
That’s not what you meant? Oh. Well. Anyway. How much longer am I stuck with you for?
That long? Please tell me you’re not serious. Well, maybe we can at least pass that time in silence.
Fine? Fine.
…
…
………
Honestly.
Well, is there anything interesting to talk about?
Have you read that new book? The one with the man and the monster? Although, the question is, which is truly which? Or are both of them both? Are we all both?
Ah. You’re impressed, aren’t you? Ha. Naturally. Oh, and now you’re annoyed because I said something more clever than what you can think of—
Arrogant? Well, you would be too, if you were this much better than everyone. And yet, lacking as you are in my sparkling intellect, you have no idea how lucky you are. No idea how lucky you are, with your simple mind and simple thoughts and simple life. I may be a genius, but it seems fate saves its cruelest punishments for the most brilliant.

Part 3
Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame but the comic relief characters aren’t real
523 words

Many children have imaginary friends, including many normal children leading normal lives. Most people do not continue talking to those imaginary friends into adulthood, but most people are allowed to speak to other human beings. When you live in a bell tower all your life with no visitors besides Judge Claude Frollo, well, can anyone really fault you for developing some strange habits?
Quasimodo had started talking to the gargoyles when he was little. He named each one — Victor, Hugo, and Laverne — and slowly, in his mind, their personalities formed. He was very good at playing pretend; there wasn’t much else to do. Talk to yourself and ring the bells and watch the people below. He imagined whole lives for all the people he observed, but he could never speak to them. Or, he could, but they couldn’t hear, in a different way than the gargoyles couldn’t hear; they were too far away. And they wouldn’t want to speak to him anyway.
But the gargoyles were right here. And clearly they had nothing better to do; they, too, were stuck up here, just watching. And they were as hideous as he was, so they wouldn’t judge him for his face. It was so easy to pretend. To imagine they were his friends.
He knew they weren’t real, of course. He was painfully aware of it at times. Just stone carvings, just part of the architecture. Immovable and unhearing.
And they were the best friends, the only friends, that he had. Practically the best friends he could ask for, besides being stone gargoyles who weren’t actually alive. They liked him better than any living human did, perhaps than any living human ever would. They were certainly better company than Frollo, though to be fair you might have to search all of Paris to find worse company than Frollo.
Yes, with the gargoyles he could talk about anything. Gossiping and speculating about the people below them was the most common topic; watching the crowds was one of the main pastimes in the bell tower. Another favorite subject was making fun of Frollo. Quasimodo would never say such things, not as himself, and indeed he sometimes told the gargoyles they shouldn’t. But he never made them stop.
They never spoke when Frollo was around. No, then they became ordinary grotesques again, just an intricately carved part of the building. Quasimodo could imagine what his master would say if he heard him talking to statues. Or to the bells, for that matter, though the bells never talked back.
Quasimodo admired the carvings on them, and on the rest of the building. Such intricate designs, such meticulous detail. He wished he could be that good, and wondered about the carvers as he crafted his own creations out of wood, miniature models of the people down below.
The gargoyles always admired his carvings. Sometimes they’d crack jokes about them, but never at Quasi’s expense.
They believed in him, it seemed, more than he ever did. Encouraged him. Complimented him. Were kind to him. Funny how the friends he made up seemed to like him more than he liked himself.

Part 4
Tropes:
Faustian Bargain
Lampshading
Love Triangle

796 words

The devil appeared in a puff of smoke, as evil entities tend to do. Alex gaped between coughs — the smoke smelled like rotten eggs.
“Hey, what’s up?” said the devil.
“It worked! The summoning spell actually worked!”
The devil laughed. “Nah, you don’t need a fancy ritual to summon me. Who told you that?”
“The internet.”
“Ah, the internet. Great source for lies and deceit. But yeah, I come when I’m called, as long as I’m not too busy. It was fun watching you mess around with those cards and stuff, though.”
“Oh.”
“Also, if I’m not mistaken, I’m the third entity you called upon?”
“Nothing happened the first two times, and I figured I’d sorta cover all my bases.”
“Aw, but you didn’t try me first?” The devil put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “And I thought we were friends!”
“Um, I’ve never met you.
“That’s what you think. Anyway, what did you want? People don’t usually summon me just to chat.”
“Well, there’s this girl, Jessica…”
“Ah. Let me guess: you want her to fall in love with you?”
“Yeah. I mean, I think she might, if it weren’t for Vance…”
“Vance?”
“Yeah. Captain of the basketball team, acts like he’s so nice… I think Jessica likes me, we get along great, but she never pays any attention to me when he’s around.”
A jock vs. nerd love triangle? The devil had been called upon over similar things before, but never something quite so cliche as this. The kid was even wearing glasses and a video game shirt.
“Right. So, what’ll it be: love spell, or smite Vance?”
“How about… both? Just to be safe?”
“Ha. Yeah, okay—”
“Wait, when you said smite… I don’t want you to kill him, okay? That’s, like, really illegal—”
Because obviously the devil cares about laws. And morals.
“I have an excellent legal team. No one’s ever sued me and won.”
“Okay… but I still don’t want him dead. Could you just, like, make him really unpopular and uncool? And unathletic?”
“Sure.”
“And make me great at basketball?”
“Is that all?”
“That should get Jessica to pick me.”
“Uh-huh. So, no love spell, then? ‘Cause I can make her really want you. It’s one of my things, y’know, making people consumed with lus—”
“No! No, I probably won’t need that. I think she likes me already, I just need Vance out of the picture…”
“Yeah, okay. No problem. But I am gonna need something in exchange…”
“My soul?”
“Hmm…” The devil frowned. “I have plenty of souls. People always assume that’s what I want. Sometimes you mortals can be so unimaginative. So… Hmm. Tell me, what’s your most treasured possession?”
Alex thought. “Maybe my Nintendo switch, or— wait, no, my collection of pokemon cards.” Oh sure, give the devil an honest answer. Although to be fair, Alex already crossed the questionable decisions line when he summoned the devil in the first place.
The devil’s eyes lit up — literally, fires lit in each of them. “Your pokemon cards?”
“Yeah. It took me years to get all of them…”
The devil snapped his fingers. “I’ll take them.”
“But—”
“You want Jillian to fall in love with you, don’t you?”
“You mean Jessica.”
“Right, right. Her. You can be popular and athletic and have a hot girlfriend, all for the price of a couple cards—”
“It’s not a couple, it’s a hundred and—”
“But fine. Keep your cards. I don’t care. I don’t mind if you’re sad and lonely forever. Or you could give me your soul instead of the cards, that works too.”
Alex looked longingly at his card collection, up on his shelf. He thought of Jessica’s pretty hair and pretty smile, as well as some other parts of her. He thought about how many years it had taken him to collect all of those cards.
He said, “How about… something else?”
“Something besides your most treasured possession?”
“I mean, uh… who said pokemon cards were my most treasured possession? Pffft. What kind of loser has nothing he likes better than pokemon cards? Ha. Couldn’t be me.”
The devil narrowed his eyes. Lying was kind of his thing, and anyway, he wasn’t that stupid. “Really.”
“I know!” said Alex. “How about… you take Vance’s soul?”
The devil frowned. “That would work, but, see, you can’t just give me other people’s souls. You need to get the rights to the soul somehow…”
“I’ll do it. I’ll get you his soul, I promise. And then you make him an unpopular loser who Jessica would never pick.”
The devil grinned devilishly, like someone who had the adjective devilish named after him, which happened to be exactly who he was. He held out his hand, and Alex shook it. “Deal.”

part 001: five tropes +/- ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
word count: 331 / 250

Enemies-to-l0v-rs (the best ever r-mant!c trope) is perfect in the sense that it has tension, and even better, banter. It’s high-stakes and always interesting, and the whole enemies ordeal makes the end when they get together all the more satisfying. The only negatives are the inconvenience of a forbidden r-manc3ce, and the usual slow burn (if you dislike slow burns).
The Chosen One is a great trope in young adult books, like KOTLC (best middle-grade series on earth). It always makes the stories infinitely interesting, but sometimes the whole backstory on how the main character came to be the Chosen One can be convoluted and confusing– and sometimes the choices that the main character makes to keep the story going can be INFURIATING.
The Hero’s Journey is one of the most common tropes, and sometimes it isn’t clear when it’s happening. It’s common in fantasy books, and some of the positives are the immersive adventures, but sometimes the journey can feel repetitive next to all the other fantasy stories that follow the same structure.
Forced pr-xim!tyayaya is another common r-mant!citic trope, and is always really fun to see the characters irritated at each other. This is commonly associated with enemies to lo-3rsrsr along with rivals to lv3rsrsrs, because of the tension. The tension is the best part. But a negative of this is that sometimes the story can feel stuck if the characters keep arguing a stalemate on who gets to sl-ep on the b-d.
The Fake R-lationsh!psls trope is a very, very common ro-anc3fecrsr trope because of how it’s sometimes easier to write than the other tropes. I personally dislike it because of how common it is in books (LIKE GIVE ME A BREAK) and how unrealistic it seems. Some of the positives are the fake feelings becoming real feelings sub-trope, which is obviously the cutest thing ever– and the ending, when the characters get together, is always so fun and happy.


part 002: fav trope in a story ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
word count: / 400
trope choice: enemies/rivals to l0vsrersrs

“Hey, what’d you get on the test?” He asked, eyes not leaving his own paper. He was analyzing it to the smallest detail, like correcting every mistake in his head would somehow fix the grade.
“60/60,” she said triumphantly, trying to peer over at his test.
He groaned, running a hand over his face. “. I don’t know what I did wrong.” He knew what he did wrong– he was thinking about her through the whole test, couldn’t focus on what he was writing down.
“I’m just better,” she laughed, throwing her head back.
“Shut up,” he grumbled, glaring at her. “I’ll do better than you next time.” Truthfully, he didn’t want her to shut up– he loved the sound of her voice, the sound of her laugh.
“Sure,” she giggled, tucking her hair behind her ears. She hadn’t meant for it to be flirtatious, but he sure took it that way, eyes darting down back to his paper so he didn’t blush. She liked him a little more than she’d like to admit, but she’d never voice that to anyone– not even her best friends. She’d just continue to tell them how much she loathed him, how much it kll3d her whenever he bragged about his higher grade.
He rolled his eyes, shoving his test into his folder. He liked seeing her happy, though. He thought to himself, maybe he’d do a little worse on the next test so she would laugh and smile at him again.
“Are you going to the thing tonight?” She asked. Her voice rang through his head, disrupting all his thoughts. He dragged his eyes up to look at her, trying not to simply grin at her.
“The– thing?”
“The competition. Participating in it’s good if you want to be valedictorian.” She was asking a little because she wanted to know if she’d have to try a little harder to beat him. After all, he was really the only one that matched her academic efforts. But mostly, she was asking because she’d feel a lot better on that stage if he was there, backstage or in the audience.
“Are you asking me to go?” He said, a little quietly. He didn’t want to sound like he wanted her to want him to go, he didn’t want to sound like he wanted to go so bad just to watch her make her speech.
“Nope.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes– she was lying, and he knew it. He learned all the tells when she lied. “I just want to know if I have any competition.”
“Well, too bad for you, I am going.” He smirked, meeting her eyes.


(this is obviously only the middle part of the story. enemies/rivals to loversrfrs takes a LONG time in terms of stories. like im not tryna write out the whole course of the school year T-T)



part 003: novel with a twist ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
word count: 516 / 500
trope choice: lovers to enemies (how… surprising!)
original novel: the invisible life of addie larue

She pours herself a glass of w!ne, and paces, as the stolen candles drip, and wax pools in the table linen, and the night grows heavy, the hours first late, and then early.
And he still doesn’t come.
“Enough,” she calls out, dropping her glass to the table. The win3 sloshes haphazardly, threatening to spill out onto the white linen, like drops of bl00d disrupting perfect snow. She knew he was listening, from outside the window, at least.
The doors of the entryway swung open, and he walked in with a smirk. “Oh, dear Addie, is it finally time?” He rubbed his hands together with a wolfish grin.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, dear Luc,” she mocked. “No. It is not time, and it will never be.”
“Oh, but you say that every day, don’t you? It’s only a matter of time.” He sat down at the end of the table, crossing his legs and putting them on top. Tearing a piece of bread away from the crusty loaf, he took a bite, chewing obnoxiously. She looked away. “And to what do I owe this pleasure? Your invitation was certainly… insisting.”
She looked at him through her eyelashes, picking at the food in front of her. She had nearly eaten all of it, the time she had spent waiting for him was starving and she could no longer resist. “I want to make a deal.”
“Oh? Do go on,” he grinned, looking up. He truly thought he would win this time, he thought she would finally give up on this immortality scheme.
She took a deep breath. She had rehearsed this part, over and over again in her head and in front of the mirror in preparation for this very moment. She knew she might falter, but nevertheless, she mustered a smile. “If you leave me alone— never seek me at bars, leave me be with the ones I meet, and give me one week with remembrance– I’ll give you my soul. I’ll surrender, but all I want is one week.”
His grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly plastered it back up. “That would be violating our agreement from all those years ago, Addie. I simply can’t do that.” Truly, he was afraid– he didn’t want to lose her, the one person who understood him enough to not loathe him so entirely for the curse.
She dropped her fork with a clang, the perfect silver falling to the decorated porcelain of her plate. “Luc. Please.” She hated the way she sounded, she hated that she had to beg. She didn’t really want this, no, she just wanted to escape his power. It was unbearable, having someone hang oblivion over your head everyday, insistently, urging you to give up. She didn’t want to go out just by surrendering, though, and would rather make a deal to prove that she still had control over something, anything.
He smiled a little, taking a swig right out of the w!n3 bottle. “Oh, Addie. You never do learn, do you? You can’t escape me.”


part 004: three tropes ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
word count: 717 / 700
trope choices: enemies to l-verrsrs, he falls first AND harder, forced proxrsvimittyy

She banged her hand against the door over and over again, yelling for help. “Someone? Is anyone out there?”
He sighed, letting his head fall back against the plastered wall. “God, Tiny– no one’s here. Stop trying. You’re giving me a headache.”
Clementine stopped and turned back only to glare at him. “First of all, it’s Clementine, and Tiny is not an acceptable nickname. And second of all, maybe someone will come back.” She said the last part with a wince. It was almost certain that no one was coming back. They had been stuck in the storage closet for over an hour since the last of the students left, and no one was going to come back. That morning, they had both gotten in trouble for ‘vandilizing’ the school property (they were standing near a brick on which another student had drawn a smiley face, and were evidently punished). The headmaster told them to give him their phones and stay after school to clean the lockers, and when they had both begrudgingly searched for cleaning supplies, they locked themselves in the closet.
“I hope you know that no one’s coming back.” He was holding a sponge, squeezing it anxiously in his hand. He would never admit it, but he was terribly nervous. Partly because they were stuck in a closet at school, but mostly because he was stuck with Clementine.
“Shut up, Xavier,” she groaned, sinking against the door until she was sitting on the floor across from him. The closet was significantly smaller than she preferred, especially since she was stuck with the one boy in school she couldn’t stand the most.
He shrugged, tossing the sponge at her. She caught it easily, placing it down on the tile next to her as she rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you stressed?” She pressed. “We’re stuck at school, no phones, in a storage closet?” Her voice was strained. She wasn’t all that claustrophobic, but the space seemed to be shrinking a little with every breath.
“Oh, trust me, Tiny, I’m stressed,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair– his oh-so perfect hair that she had always envied. The perfect golden blonde hair. She had wanted blonde hair all her life, but she had always been a brunette. She just had to watch and envy her sisters with their Rapunzel hair.
His eyes were closed, and Clementine let her eyes rake over him. She hated the way he carried himself, so unbothered and better than everyone. She hated the way he talked, a drawl, like he couldn’t bear to talk with emotion in his voice. She hated the way he smiled– he hardly ever smiled– but when he did, it was like a ray of sunshine. She wanted to correct him– tell him to not call her Tiny– but he said it in some kind of endearing way, and she didn’t really mind all that much. She just wanted to be right. She wanted to get her way.
“You don’t sound stressed,” she grumbled, closing her own eyes. She hated how he was so invincible. She envied it. She didn’t know if she wanted to be him or dat3 him.
“Oh, Tiny,” he laughed softly, shaking his head. He opened his eyes slowly, as if he was just waking up. Her eyes were still closed, and he looked at her for a while. “We’ll get out eventually. And even if we don’t, is it so bad that you’re stuck with me?”
She opened her eyes just to raise an eyebrow at him. “I hope that was sarcastic.”
“Maybe it was.” He shrugged again, his eyes darting between hers. He had always had those unreadable eyes. You could never tell if he was going to laugh or cry. She wanted to learn how to read them, how to decipher what he was feeling.
In all honesty, he was a little glad that it was her. Any other girl would be all over him and whining about being stuck. Clementine hated him just enough for her to leave him alone, and Xavier liked her just enough for him to not mind. He’d never admit it, though. He was just going to keep his mouth shut the entire night, if he had to. He didn’t want to scare her away.

im so sorry abt the censoring (my eye is twitching and im crying because scratch. lets be real here.)

Hi! Here’s my critique
336 words

Alright, first of all, I really liked this—it’s really well written and captures the atmosphere of the setting really well. I also loved the repetition of the italicized line. It really gives it more impact, and I love how it sort of changes meaning and tone based on where it’s placed.

I heard the guns before I saw them. The dreaded whistling of them shooting through the air. The desperate shouts for help. The harrowing raw screams that rang in my ears.

This first line captures the realities of a war really well—it also creates a lot of suspense so people will keep on reading

screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

Raw.

Unearthly.

Chilling.

This part also does a great job of showing Lena’s grief and making the reader understand it, too.

also, not sure if this was intentional or not, but i love the name jayla for the little girl since it means “god will protect” and she survived <3

“We have to go, now,” He told me urgently, his voice cracking in fear. “It’s not safe in the hospital.”
A stab of anguish shot through me.
“But the patients! We can’t just leave them!” I cried, tears stinging my eyes. “We have to save them. They’re our responsibility.”
His lip wobbled and he steadied himself on my arm.
“They won’t live. None of them. The ones who have a chance already escaped. They’re too weak. I’m sorry. But we have to save ourselves.”
I shook my head grievously. “There must be another way.” I murmured. “There has to be.”
“I’m sorry.” He repeated.
He took my clammy hand in his and led me out of the hospital, my whole body shaking uncontrollably as the patients gazed after us, the sparks of hope dying in their eyes as they faced the brutal reality of death creeping up on them.

I feel like the beginning part where they have to leave the hospital patients could use a bit more emotion or time spent on that—I get that it’s supposed to feel urgent and rushed but I think that also sacrifices a bit of emotion that could be packed in their as well.

A lump rose in your throat.

I think you accidentally switched POVs here


Not really a specific place for this one, but I think Elijah’s death could be more impactful if it seemed to affect Lena more. I like the part directly after that because it is very emotional, but after that he’s only mentioned briefly once. Adding in a few shorter spots (to keep the urgent tone that you made) where maybe something small reminds her of him or something like that would be good because it would further show her grief while still fitting in with the rest of the story. For example, if she was at the train station and saw someone who looked similar to him or saw a belonging on the ground that reminded her of something about them (this also adds some more backstory for them if you want to expand on that).

We were just metres away from the doors, from safety, when a large crowd of bedraggled people swept us up, pulling us away. I elbowed against them, reaching out for the hospital, but they were too strong.

We were heading in the general direction of the train station. Maybe we could escape from there.

I like this part but a transition part in between would make it sound better imo

♫ 23 - 363/350 words - write about changes you would make to swc if a host ♫

firstly, there would be a mango and point tax to any cabins other than my own in the lead. each cabin a rank ahead of my own would either have to sacrifice 2000 mangoes, or 1200 points to our cabin, hopefully boosting us up in the leaderboard and/or giving us plenty of fruits to make a lovely smoothie or fruit salad with ehehe >;D

secondly, (and on a more serious note), i think it'd be super fun to have another megasession!! the megasession in july ‘23 was during my second session and i thought it was really fun. i think the competition was amazing because of how many cabins there were, and having a smaller cabin really helped build strong connections with each other and make a tight knit community.

third, i think it’d be cool to be a host and have the inside scoop on a lot of fun surprises, mainly cabin wars stuff :0 i would love to be able to collaborate on a project like the race we had yesterday because that would be such a blast lol

another oneee, i know i don't reallyyy have to be a host for this and i should just be a brave pepper and go ask in the main cabin, but having a swc wide fan fic where we can all collaborate on a camp wide story about us would be so fun rahhh

i also think it would be epic to be a part of coming up with session themes and mascots! i've always thought a cozy cottage theme would be so cute and fun to help design for, or maybe a camping theme :0 and then a mascot could be a cup of hot chocolate or a smore oh my goodness TwT they would be the cutest ever bwahaha

finally, i think the idea of having a project at the start of camp where people could earn points for asking other people they aren't familiar with questions to try to get to know more people would be awesome. this would especially help newer campers feel more comfortable with everyone, and help expand some of the swc veterans' relationship circles!!

March 22 Daily

If I had to change anything about SWC, I would grant myself more time to write so then I would never have to finish a daily at the last minute only to learn that it had already hit midnight UTC. Hmm, maybe I would just entirely move when midnight UTC is, so then it could be, like my midnight, which would be nice, or maybe like 2:00 am in the morning. For some reason, I feel like 2:00 am would be a really nice time for midnight UTC to hit. Yes … that would be a good change for submitting things. But, it would then be an annoying time to be there for things like cabin wars or daily changes. And then, I think, a great change would be that every camper gets mandatory mangoes at the beginning of camp, or maybe once a week. We can use magical teleportation technology so that every camper can send their mangoes to themselves without compromising their top secret, classified location information. Sounds like a great plan because I've always wanted to have a mango, but I actually never have had a mango. GASP. I know. Don't hate me. Mangoes don't grow here and I've kind of never had the opportunity to eat something mango flavored. I mean, I probably have, but I just don't really remember. Aside from mandatory mangoes, I think that SWC should also sell merch. Half joking, half dreaming on this one. I think that merch would be a really cool way to rep the camp and may lead to interactions between swcers who come across each other. But, that is not accessible to everyone, and we'd have to have international shipping, which can be really expensive, and also the money from the merch wouldn't really benefit the camp, but rather the person who sells it. Another change, and this is actually serious, and I feel like a pill for saying this, but I kind of wish that there were less repeat/classic dailies across sessions? There seemed to be a lot this session. I just thought that instead of, like, repeating them every session, maybe repeat them less. There are a lot of swc classic dailies, so its kind of overwhelming and repetative TO ME. But I also understand that they're new to new campers. I guess I just want the daily to feel like you're pulling it out of a box in the attic, brushing it off, and sighing, saying to yourself “now this is a classic”. Still revisited, but not every session. But, its also plausible that maybe I'm just going crazy and they're actually not brought back every session, or maybe I just don't like some of the classic daily prompts themselves. I dunno. I also think that swc is just fine as it is. Each session is always unique because of the campers, which is what really matters and makes a difference. It doesn't neccesarily need to change to be different and a special experience each time.

504 words