dailyyyy - I don't really have a favorite book so I'm just going to choose The Hunger Games bc it's the first book I thought of
315 words

I never wanted to be reaped, but I was ready. I watched stories about the District One and Two kids preparing on TV - it was their whole life. And if they got to train, so would I. I knew if I ever did happen to be picked, those snobby nepo babies were going down. I was still shocked when I was picked, but not disappointed. There was no family here for me, and my life was as boring as it gets. Training was literally the only fresh thing in my life. I trained in the trees, sharpened spears out of sticks, and stabbed at the wildlife. Learned how to make my own weapons, and how to use them in all the worst ways. I was about to be the weapon they never saw coming. As peacekeepers drag me to the stage, a smirk comes onto my face. They drag me into position and hold me there, but I jab my elbows at them and step straight to the mic.
“You're not going to know what hit you.” I glare straight into the camera with a smile on my face. The peacekeepers grab me again, harder this time, thinking I might try to escape. But that wasn't what I meant. I step back and wait for the male tribute to be chosen. But as I look over the crowd, my eye catches on one person. I gulp. I lied about having nobody here - there was one person. He wasn't family by blood, but he was like me. I took him in, showed him how to use nature to survive. Lord knows they don't give us enough to live on our own. He's scrawny and skinny, but he busks in the square for an extra penny. I feel bad leaving him here without me, but he's better off in the district than in the arena.

yay ok that's enough words I was starting to like that story but didn't feel like coming up with a name so I'm done now ahahah

yay i'm in the hunger games now | july 25 daily

—

I wake up on the dirt ground, surrounded by dead leaves.
Wait. What?
I look to my left. Rue is laying next to me, still asleep. I look to my right. Trees. Lots and lots of trees. The Hunger Games?
I shake Rue awake. “Where are we?” I’m pretty sure I know, but I don’t want to make assumptions.
Rue frowns at me sleepily as she sits up, her joints cracking like lots of popcorn. “What do you mean? We’re in the Hunger Games, silly. Did you lose your memory or something?” She starts poking me, as if to make sure I’m actually me.
“Wait, but-” I splutter. “Last night. I was in my room, preparing for cabin wars. And critiquing some writing pieces.”
Rue pats my hand. “You must’ve had a crazy dream then, because I’ve certainly never heard of cabin wars. I mean, what is that, anyways?”
I shake my head slowly. “Never mind.” Wow. I’m really stuck in the Hunger Games. Somehow, while I was sleeping, I got teleported to an alternate dimension. Huh. That’s weird.
“So,” I say as casually as I can muster, standing up and brushing dirt and grass off of my pants. “Do you want to blow anything up today?”
Rue looks at me now, more alert and awake. “Wait. You’re not Katniss.”
“I’m… not Katniss,” I confirm, confused. I don’t look like Katniss.
“Then what are you doing here?” she asks, also confused.
“I…” I pause. “I don’t know.”
Rue blinks. I blink. And she’s gone.
Vaguely I hear the crunching of leaves somewhere in the distance, and I realize that she must have run away. Great. I’m here, in the Hunger Games, with nothing but my really tired brain. And pajamas.

—

290 words
yk idk what i was doing dont read this

•┈๑⋅⋯ ꒰ ꒱ ⋯⋅๑┈•

i. “are the stars truly deaf or do they simply turn their minds from the useless beings who clamor beneath?”

⋆˚✿ writing comp entry
what i left behind . sci-fi . 1999

i. running away is a coward’s game of foolish mistakes and trivial selfishness. running is understanding that there will be things you leave behind and things you will never look back upon of your own accord, if only to move onwards with your life and leave the remnants of your buried past behind.

Calista,

I’m exhausted.
Not the way that sleep can fix, but the way that seeps into your bones and carries a weight heavier than the crown of a head bent beneath the burden of pretending to be fine.
Life has its own way of proving people in the most complicated ways. People say we all change, yet I don’t think that’s true. Change is an impossible possibility. Instead, we grow up. We break down. We get quiet. But the core of what we are, who we were and who we always will be, is still there, just quieter beneath the static of the ever-changing evolution of who we are as people.
I used to glow. I used to laugh without wavering and smile without forcing it.
Now, I feel as though the light within my body has been blown out, a candle that once burned through the night, now long extinguished. I hesitate. I falter and I wince and I’ll call it maturity, even though I know it isn’t- it’s fear. It’s the exhaustion of remaining upright and standing without collapsing onto my knees.
You’ve always told me that running is a neverending cycle of both cruelty and shame, neglecting those you leave behind and abandoning them without looking back. But maybe sometimes, running is a way of continuing on to triumph through the tears of blood that the clouds cry. Maybe running is forging a path for others that they cannot see themselves. Maybe, running is a sacrifice made to benefit others.
Maybe, running is what I’ll do.
Not because I want to leave- because I want you to stay.

With all my love,
Aislia

ii. loyalty, above all other means of trust and devotion, may be the most dangerous supplement of all. loyalty, much like love, is a powerful weapon that may be yielded at any time, for any deed. loyalty may be the most common strength of all, and perhaps that is what makes it such a lethal weakness.

Pixie, Link, and Fern,

I hate knowing you would follow me to the ends of the earth, and yet knowing that there are people willing to protect me is invaluable.
However, there comes a point in time where I wonder if walking into the sun with others by your side will burn with a ferocious flare, guilt and fear eating away at your flesh, rather than with the painless warmth of skin brushing skin.
I wonder if I am sentencing you to a doomed eternity of utter void, basking in darkness only the stars can break up.
If I were to walk to the ends of the earth, would you follow without a falter? Would you endure the brambles sinking deep into the bare flesh beneath your feet, the restlessness that has seeped within your bones, the blood and the tears dripping from your eyes as you watch the world around us go up into flames?
I don’t want you to spend your lives devoted to anybody but yourselves. I don’t want you to feel as though drowning hand-in-hand with someone you love will lessen the blow of the terror contained within each bubble, straying slower until your eyes flutter shut.
But all the same, I still wonder: is it better for me to burn to numb the scorches of others, or to feel the flames kissing my skin while knowing I am in the hands of those I love?

Love,
Aislia

iii. where the bleeding may stop, the pain never will. from the bloodbath shall rise the flowers, a beautifully lethal bouquet watered by the tears of those who only feel the roture of those who seek the beauty. wounds never heal, only close enough so that the bloody mess beneath may not taint the undergrowth of the outside.

Dear Almost,

You never meant to love me, not really. You only meant to see what would bloom if you crushed a soul gently enough.
You buried me under the burden of your words, the scraps of empty promises, the ghost of what you swore you meant. You let me wither and rot but told me to be grateful while I basked in the garden of your soul. You gave me forget-me-nots and dandelions, then bound them to my wrists. You shackled me in dahlias though you never accepted my gifts. You left me a bouquet of love, devotion, and grief, and told me to wear it like a crown. I watched as the flowers that I watered with my tears grew into the spirals of my stemmed cage.
The first to grow were the marigolds. The bloomed in the bruises you didn’t leave with fists- grief masquerading as gold. They smiled at me like meek stars drowning in the night. But no light stemmed from them as they wound around my wounds, binding me to the longing for the things I once had.
Then came the wildflowers, budding in my throat and curling around my tongue. Slow, suffocating, trapping the air within my lungs. They spilled from my throat until my voice wilted in their shadow. I became still. Small. Sounds dulled beneath the tremor of the flowers that silenced me.
And then came the roses. Crimson and dark, curling around my ribs and forming a cage of their own. Petals soft as the promises you never kept, thorns sharper than your goodbye. They blotted my vision and collapsed my lungs until all I could do was breathe in the form of you I was never able to let go of. They bled me dry in the shape of love.
I could blink for light but there was no more left to see, and I could gasp for air but there was no more left to breathe, and I let you bend me though there was no more left to break.
Even the loveliest of gardens grow wild and reckless and even the prettiest of flowers rot. Even something so beautiful such as the garden you planted within me could host the remains of something so lethal.
Marigolds the name of the sun wilting the beauty of the things I long to have, wallflowers the symbol of hiding behind nothingness, and roses the color of the blood that spills from my heart, staining the grass with a sickly sweet finality.
I do not know when the garden became a grave. But I can no longer tell where your roots end and my bones begin.

Aislia

iv. and it is at these times where they wonder: are the stars truly deaf or do they simply turn their minds from the useless beings who clamor beneath? are the soft cries of a young girl muffled by the blanket of darkness she wilts into, or are they an irrelevant strife? can the stars hear the screams etched into the metal of a tired, old belt loop, or are the sounds of fire against fire against skin against skin against flesh inaudible to the merciless ears of all those useless beings?

To the one who broke me pretty,

The Sculpted, so practiced in her art of stillness. Quiet, observing, unflinching. Even as the Sculptor unveils his newest tools and chips away at her form with disgusting precision, she never cries until she is out of sight.
The Sculptor dreams of permanence—beauty carved from chaos, order etched in marble. In his eyes, there is nothing more enticing than the finality of something pleasurably beautiful.
The Sculpted waits, still and silent, bound by shape and pressure. With every detail, refined and pristine, a piece of her previous self is chipped away. Her outer shell is elegant and beautiful in a way that is completely unnatural. And yet, all the people see is the supposed perfection. But within? There lies a stillness. An ache.
The Sculpted has survived so many a blow that she no longer feels the pain. Her only bruises are visible but the slashes against her marble are hidden and uncared for. She watches on as metal is unleashed upon her, ravaging her unhuman flesh and baring upon her marks deep into skin already tarnished.
While the Sculpted sits, quavering and cowering in fear of the brittle weapons sharp as the words aimed directly at her heart, the Sculptor pays no heed to the pain she feels. Instead, he continues his work under the belief that all will be well.
The worst of the damage comes while the Sculptor is drunk with a sickening glory, a careless anger. If his footsteps are heavy and his eyes are blurred over, why are his hands steady, his mouth curved into a malicious smile solely crafted for a blatant discovery of otherworldly torture.
And all the Sculpted can do is stay where she is, bow down to the figure before her and dream painlessly. She will cower and her eyes will water but she will not speak, will not breathe, will not blink, will not move, will not scream, will not eat, will not drink, will not try-
Will only sob into the void when the Sculptor is asleep and pray to the stars that they will find her and they will rescue her and mend the cuts so carefully carved into her.
Will only fear for her future and for when she becomes the Sculptor.

Father, if I am the Sculpted then you are the Sculptor, slashing wounds too deep to heal and drawing blood too dark to not stain. If I am the Tormented then you are the Tormentor, beckoning those you love within your reign.
Father, the bruises I carry with me will never fade, and the scars atop my flesh will forever be intact, and the memories of you will, until the stars come to find me or I reach for the sun and burn away each trace of blood on my skin, haunt my ears and my eyes and kiss me goodnight like a lovesick ballad of death.
Father, you have broken me so beautifully that I have forgotten what I looked like before you laid your hands upon me.

- Aislia

v. is it at all possible to look back upon the shattered fragments of your soul while watching them bleed through your eyes in the mirror? is it possible to forget what it feels like to suffocate all while struggling to breathe through the flowers in your lungs, to know what the world looks like without the light being too blinding and your legs stumbling and your arms falling and your head sagging and your heart bleeding with the same color as the flowers crushed beneath your feet?

Lia,

I carry your story like a scar I can’t forget. A young girl, lost and alone—unseen by stars, unheard by the makers. You bled poetry from wounds buried beneath a sea of silent ones, wrapped in prose, hidden from the world’s eyes.
You stepped into the light with tears burning your cheeks and skin, finding love in the smallest things. Yet, along the way, more bruises appeared— marks growing beneath your fragile skin. You stayed in the light, but saw only darkness, afraid of the home you left behind.
I’ve never forgiven myself for walking away from you, for letting the sunlight burn us both. I left you behind in the fire and called it survival. You fought to breathe while I let the flames take me, step by slow step. I see you now—the scared girl clutching at shadows, and me, walking toward the dark with open eyes. I’m sorry for every time I almost gave up. But maybe, in this silence, we’ll find peace. Or at least, some kind of quiet.

Goodbye,
You.

(The book I used is The House of Hades by Rick Riordan, which I wouldn’t call my favorite book of all time, but it's the one I'm reading right now, so the story and characters are freshest in my head.)

Wild perched on the edge of the Argo II.

The summer sun hung low in the sky over the Mediterranean, and its glow cast a reddish aura across the whole ship. Rays of light filtered through the wings of Wild's shazarxian form, but their skin couldn't detect the warmth. Wild's shape was misty, barely visible except for the blur of energy bending through the space where their body would be.
There was some anchor in their subconscious keeping them here, but the rest of their thoughts were scattered like leaves in the wind. They didn't notice that they were being talked about.
“Is it a ghost?” Jason glanced at Nico.
“No,” Nico frowned. “It looks like one, but it isn't.”
Piper cautiously took a step in Wild's direction. “Hello?”
With some focused effort, Wild flickered into awareness. They slowly turned their head to look at her, the movement feeling like swimming through syrup.
“Hello there…” Wild channeled the words, but they still sounded like they came from far away.
“Who are you? Why are you here?”
“Hmm… Wild said slowly. ”Call me Wild. Your world is going through a tumultuous time, yeah?“ The words were coming a little easier now. ”Conflict breeds stories. I collect them.“
Jason's hand hovered near his sword.
Wild continued. ”Also, I like that orb.“ They raised one foggy limb and gestured toward Leo's sphere.
”Seriously?“
”Yep. Remindsnme of my Egg. It's not, uh, I don't have it with me right now.“ Wild figured they probably shouldn't mention that it's


”I wasn't planning on staying. Or interfering."

◆◇◆◇◆ CHALLENGE ONE ◆◇◆◇◆

After discovering the power of the patriarchy in the Real World, Ken takes over Barbie’s house and turns it into the Mojo Dojo Casa House. If you could create your own dream house, what would it be? Write 150 words of description for your very own Mojo Dojo Casa House, then another 200 of a story using your dream house as the setting!

My own dream house would be very similar to the house I already live in. I always feel uncomfortable in other people’s houses due to the fact that I don’t know the layout/I’m not familiar with it. So, I think that if I keep the layout of my dream house similar to the house I already live in that would be for the best. Besides, I really don’t enjoy fancy things so I’d prefer to keep my average house, thank you very much. Now, while the layout would be mostly similar I think having a gothic-esqe style on the outside of my house would be very cool and very epic if I do say so myself. Now, the interior. It’s no secret about me, I like anime. The inside would most definitely be filled to the brim with merchandise of my favorite anime. Especially Detective Conan and Angel Beats…I’d probably still have a fairly average house, since, like I said before, I don’t enjoy fancy things, just everything would be exactly how I want it and I’d have everything I need at all times!

♖ | 185 words

—

“I swear, if you say one more thing about anything Detective Conan I am actually going to throw something at you.” Those were the words of my friend, Kristina, who was currently scrolling through her phone as she listened to me ramble about why Detective Conan was absolute cinema.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes, “No you won’t—ACK!” I yelped at the tissue box thrown my way. She had in fact been telling the truth about throwing something at me. I groaned as I put a hand to my face, it was fine, didn’t hurt at all really. Kristina was luckily nice enough to throw something that wouldn’t actually hurt.

“I’m getting a glass of water from your surprisingly average kitchen. I swear, it’s like this house’s entire budget went to your anime collection.”

I laughed, knowing very well that Kristina had to room to talk considering the fact that she quite literally had a collection of her own, the first thing coming to mind being her Sakamoto Days merch. She stood up, and I followed to the kitchen. She stared at a Detective Conan poster perched next to the fridge.

“Why, exactly, do you have this in the kitchen?”

“I like Detective Conan.”

“Obviously.”

♖ | 204 words

The Daily But I Edited It So It Would Work For The Critiquitaire (feel free to ignore)

“Favorite book??” My eyes widen. What a hard choice. Panicking, I throw myself into the first book I think of. I squeeze my eyes shut as I’m thrown through the multiverse, into…
“Oh no. No way. This is not my favorite book, it’s just the one I read most recently.”
Baz looks up at me. “Who are you and where is Snow? What are you doing here?”
“Not sure.“
“You don’t know who you are?”
“No, no, I know who I… well… hmm. Do you have a computer I could use to type on?” He scowls at me. “Right. Of course. Paper and pen perhaps?”
“Who—“ he uses words I likely shouldn’t repeat here, “—are you, and how—“ he glares at me harder, which I didn’t think was possible, “did you get in my room?”
“No pen and paper? Well, guess I’m stuck here annoying you until I’ve got 250 words worth of interaction. And, I mean, the magic is unreliable, and there’s NO WAY this is my favorite book. Just the first that popped into my mind—“
Baz finally tosses me some paper and a pen. “Just take it already, and please STOP. TALKING.”
I instantly start scribbling. “You have no concerns about me saying this is a book?”
“I said stop talking.”
“Sorry Simon disappeared. I think I replaced him, but that means he should probably be back when I leave.” I finish writing. “Anyway. Nice meeting you.”
“I could not say the same.”
“You could, you just would be lying,” I point out, before sending myself across the multiverse.
I open my eyes and find myself inside a new room. I’m instantly furious.
“This isn’t even a book! And Civil War? Really?! I’m sorry, what do you think favorite book means, multiverse?!”
Bucky stares at me. “Where’d Steve go?” I realize I am potentially in danger, and the paper and pen Baz gave me are gone.
“Oh. Um. Think I replaced him. Don’t worry, he’ll be back.”
“And who’s the small blond one?”
“Well, shoot.” I turn to see I somehow dragged Simon with me. I’m not sure how this is possible. The answer is probably that it isn’t, but it’s simply entertaining. “Bucky, this is Simon. Steve’s gonna be back, but it might take longer than I was hoping. Well. I guess I’m not sure how time works in the multiverse, but still.”
Bucky’s worried, which is fair, but worries me. I’m stuck here with an assassin and a weird magic kid. Plus, more people are coming. People I don’t want to be here before I can leave. Plus, I don’t know Simon well enough. I’ll have to be writing him, and unfortunately you don’t magically gain fanfic skills a day after reading a novel the first time.
Then I see Bucky’s notebooks.
“And step one to getting him back would be tearing out a blank page from one of your notebooks and giving me a pencil or something.”
He hesitates, but ultimately agrees. If it wasn’t Steve we were talking about, things would probably be different. Listen, we all know I love Steve, but the fact that he might’ve been saving me from some other universe I accidentally threw him into? Just a little annoying, honestly. Excessively heroic of him. And he, obviously, wasn’t even trying.
I quickly start writing, and make sure to clarify Simon doesn’t get sent with me the second time. After I’ve created a mechanic, it’s a bit hard to alter, but minor details that hadn’t been confirmed or denied yet were easier. A simple spell rather than an elaborate ceremony.
It still doesn’t feel good to end up in the middle of what I assume is Marvel Meow, with ComicsSteve and MCUSteve staring at a cat, as if it was the strangest part, and not the multiverse, the two Steve’s, the child shocked when the paper is gone again.
They actually just both say, “hey, Charlie,” in unison. Steve’s a bit concerned (both of them), but he seems to be under a spell. He knows something’s wrong, but not what.
No wonder Simon had managed to remain silent the whole time; he hadn’t noticed anything to discuss in the first place.
I wasn’t sure why Baz and Bucky were immune, though.
Hardly cared, considering it was likely plot armor, or a stronger desire to talk to them, or literally just the fact that I hadn’t thought of it yet.
I didn’t want to think about why they’d know my name. I had a couple theories, but none of them were ideal, or proven, so I ignored them.
Instead, I found some spray paint and started writing on the walls.
Technically illegal, but so is kidnapping. And who even cares, anyway? This was the multiverse. Some would be delighted. Maybe it would become evidence of other universes. That made my stomach ache a bit more than normal, though. A daily gone wrong shouldn’t be able to do this. Have any impact. But I don’t feel in control. When do I ever? I do what I’m told, I learn I’m a monster, I find someone else to follow, they sacrifice everything for me, they grow sick of me, and repeat.
I thought I’d been replacing Chewie, the main character, (basically) a cat, til I saw my metal arm. This is the scene where Steve and I fight people, and Chewie casually is just chilling with a murderer who might get murdered if he’s not careful, and some guy who for some reason still tolerates me. Bucky. Whatever I am now that the multiverse is slowly consuming me. I feel it. I felt them replacing me before I even saw the daily. EvilCharlie’s probably just messing with me, but I feel like I’m flickering, fading, slowly having a vampire and some murderers in a trench coat take control of my life for me. Absolutely delightful.
I end up running through a lot of books, unsatisfied. ToPH, Fantasy High WEBTOON Adaptation, Wayne Family Adventures, that one beautiful fanfic about the Winter Soldier on Steve’s birthday that always makes me cry, Heartstopper, a couple books I’ve never even read, The Ghostkeeper… It's too much to keep track of. I’m not writing myself as fictional characters anymore, I’m stuffing them deep into my soul… we had to loop back around when we admitted that with how blurry the line between “book” and “not book” was, we had to shove some antagonists and antiheroes inside my body that doesn’t feel human anymore.
Every once in a while I run through the main cabin, mumbling total garbage as what’s left of my mind tries to process everything I’ve seen. They laugh. I laugh. For a second I remember that I’m just writing, it’s just a game, I’m doing this for fun…
And then EvilCharlie grabs me again and whispers everything I’ve ever done into my ear, and I’m almost glad I’m Baz and Loki and Bucky and Hunter and BuckyAgainForSomeReason and JeezLouisIsThatAThirdBuckyThat’sExcessive instead of a liar. ‘Cause with one I can just remind myself that I’m just pretending, playing a game.
And with the other I have to live with the fact that if it wasn’t these fools in control, I’d have no excuse.
I have no excuse.
…I throw away my carrots in second grade and this is what happens to me, oh gods…
…he wouldn’t listen if we warned him…
…we’d all hate each other…
Eventually my leg aches and my arm aches and my stomach aches and I might be on fire and I think I’m dying and the Allfather is staring at the Valkyrie who’s brought me here because in what world am I a heroic warrior?
In what world were any of these pieces anything at all?
It’s strange, because that’s my dad if I’m Loki, but if I’m Nico this is just another god. If I’m Dorian, I’ve already died once, and know this isn’t what happens to you after. It occurs to me how many of these pieces died. And how many somehow made it back to their broken worlds to spite society once again.
It takes too long to realize this was supposed to be Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard.
That was my big plan.
After I played my game, fought the gods, betrayed everyone who loved me, loved everyone who betrayed me, betrayed everyone I loved, loved everyone I betrayed, sold my soul, won it back in a game of chess…
I’d end up here, and have Alex chop my head off. Because at the time it seemed entertaining.
“So, Allfather… we’ve finally died our tragic death and gone to Valhalla,” I declare. “And though you hate it, we’re meant to be Magnus, so you have to let us in.”
But the Valkyrie isn’t Sam. And when I think of the name Sam, a million voices start screaming about completely different people. …did we grab Brennan when EvilCharlie had full control? …How did we get that real man from a book? I suddenly think of the two books I own that had reviews from Brennan. Horrifying, that was enough to get a version of you from a parallel universe tied to a child who can’t think his own thoughts anymore.
Odin looks into my soul, and it’s like looking through a glass window on a snowy morning.
There’s stuff there, and it’s all covered, and you can see it all, because it’s all under the snow, and the snow is all that needs to be seen now.
Everything else is buried.
Until it thaws, celebrate by a fire indoors.
If you’re out there in that abyss…
…I’m on fire and I’m freezing and I’m frozen and they’re melting me and I am frost itself…
Odin looks disappointed. I’m familiar with that, since I now contain 6 different versions of Loki.
“Charlie…”
I forgot that was my name. I picked up a lot of people with a lot of different names. But that was what they used to call me, when this was a daily.
A game.
A sport.
“…your death was not recent.”
I freeze. “Which of the times I thought I’d died was real?”
Because sometimes I’d feel it. A strange noise, and reality would shift. EvilCharlie had been leaving me alone at the time, and I felt dead. Sometimes I heard others stop. But then I’d check, and they lived. I couldn’t figure out who I was mourning. Who am I mourning?
Who am I mourning?
Who am I mourning?
WHO AM I MOURNING?
I realize I’m screaming at the Allfather. Some of us apologize. Others know he’s sick of forgiving us, and we shouldn’t be making him have to try to do it this often.
I died around the age of 8, and another soul, a collecting soul, replaced the child.
And now we’d collected.
I was dying, but I couldn’t die, for I was already dead.
I was mourning existence.

Hi Mabel!!!
This is a really beautiful piece! The start was ominous and sad (in a good way, of course) and definitely drew me in! I really liked these lines here:

Zoey smiled, one she couldn’t hold together for longer than a couple seconds.

I simply tried my best to hold in the waterfall begging to drip through the cracks in my eyes.

The syntax used here is very poetic and beautiful and definitely emotional. These lines really caught my eye when I was reading the intro/first couple paragraphs.

Our school was small, as there weren’t many people who lived in ourThe first day did not feel like a breeze.

I’m… not quite sure what happened here? I wasn’t too sure if you wanted a grammar/spelling check, but I just wanted to point this out (^^)

I could definitely wait for the next day and hoped time would just stop for a bit and only start again once I’d recovered.
I got the opposite of what I’d hoped for.

Another thing I wanted to point out was this. ^ For me, at the very least, it wasn’t too clear that there was a time skip and I had to re-read both paragraphs before it set in. That might just be a me thing, though.

As I was suffering and struggling to adjust to my new life (…)

Again, another unclear time skip. I can’t quite tell how long has passed. From Zoey’s dialogue a few passages down, I think it’s been 3(+) years, but, maybe not? It’s not very clear to me and kind of drew me out of the reading mindset. Again, this might just be a me thing.

There I was, back in science class listening to Mr.Bates’ long lecture about the periodic table.

Just another small grammar thing. Mr. Bates’ should have a space.

(…) to remember to finish it by tomorrow,” Mr.Bates explained, I sighed.

And one more (maybe), I think you meant ”so remember” instead of “to remember” and, again, Mr. Bates should have a space.
But, over all, this is a super beautiful and emotional piece! Change is a really hard thing to go through, and I think you did a very good job on showing that with Ivy. The ending was excellent, and the title’s motif can be heard/found/seen throughout the entire thing!

Rose’s super cool writing

“Oh my god, Cress! You look so good in that,” Pearl cried out upon seeing the dress Adri had got for Cress. “You are so lucky. Mine is cool, but it doesn’t look good on me like yours does. I’m just ugly.’

The ‘ after ugly should be replaced with a “

Peony paid no attention to them, talking to the broken and useless android Iko, instead. Cress agreed that they should sell it, but Peony stubbornly refused.

The comma between Iko and instead feels a bit unnatural to me. Also it did take me a second to realize the “it” Cress wanted to sell was Iko, but that fully could just be that im sleepy

Peony finally said something; “Now that you have tried the dress on, can you finish the flower simulator.”

The period should probably be a question mark

Pearl turned on the newscast and a video of Prince Kai appeared on the screen. “He is so hot,” Pearl and Cress gushed at the same time.

The little line to show the stopping points before the next little part is very nice!! the ending bits always feel a bit strange to me though, however I’m often just super picky with stopping points

Given that you behave so well the first time.”

“behave” should probably be “behaved”

A curt nod. “Okay.” She had noticed that Sybil had said ‘might consider’ but it was better than nothing.

I recommend putting a comma somewhere in this sentence

Sybil and her guard turned to leave, but before she got on her ship she paused. “One of these days your demands will be too insane for me to agree and I will simply have to force you by other means.”

The phrasing of this dialogue confused me at first and I did have to reread it a couple times to properly understand it, and even then I’m still a bit confused, with where you put the “I”s and the “you”s (must point out that I had a lot of trouble sleeping last night and it’s very late here so it could just be the exhaustion) (NOTE: after a third readthrough i did figure it out and i do fear it was likely just the exhaustion… however you said to be harsh and im bad at that so im trying to point out whatever i can find!!)

That had always been implied, beneath the calm negotiations Cinder orchestrated.

I enjoyed this stopping point a lot more than the first!!

All three of them gasped collectively along with the rest of the ballroom. The usual greeting for the prince.

The three of them gasped, but so did everyone else, making it feel a bit strange that we specified their gasping separately. Honestly had to reread this a couple times to notice or care though so it’s not too bad. Also it feels like something most people wouldn’t care about anyway.

He smiled back at her, “Absolutely.” It’s charming,

it took me a second to realize you meant the smile and not him saying “absolutely.” I should probably sleep but I’m too busy

And she knew she would succeed

No punctuation was at the end of the sentence…

Given that at the past few balls she hadn’t even been able to dance with him because Pearl got there first and the line was so long, the never-ending dances were over before she even got close.

That last sentence felt kind of like a run on sentence, however I’m terrible at successfully catching those and end up writing them all the time accidentally

She needed the validation that came with being chosen as the prince’s bride because Adri’s moods were so volatile, she never felt like she measured up.

This also kinda feels like a run on sentence

Marrying Kai would save her from the constant fear that she wouldn’t be good enough for Adri and she needed that freedom to live.

I feel like you should try to fit a comma somewhere in that last sentence!!

NOTES:
Aaaaaaaa feel like I did not offer nearly enough stuff or say. Like. Anything at all, but I checked and I wrote 359 words apparently…
Good luck with your entry

critique for rose | 07.25.2025

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Hi Rose!! I'm Celeste (you already know that, but I'm trying to keep it formal sounding hehe) and I'm so so excited to read and critique your piece!! I love your writing so much and can't wait to read this. Thank you for letting me critique this too! I also understand that you hope to submit this story as your entry for the writing competition, so I'll do my best to give you feedback! Also, if I give you a lot of critiques and don't specify on the things I loved, that doesn't mean there was anything I didn't like, I just hope to give you constructive criticism in the least amount of words possible (yeah, but it's cabin wars so we'll see). Anyways, without further ado, let's get into it!

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Before we start, I just want to let you know that I have never read Lunar Chronicles before (I mean, I started the first book but never finished it) so if I mention something that goes against the plot, lore, or anything of the actual series then please let me know and/or just ignore that piece of feedback! Thanks. Okay, enough of me stalling, let's ACTUALLY get into it.

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The first thing I noticed- and this is a very nitpicky thing- is that you didn't indent your paragraphs, and didn't put a paragraph break. Now, the paragraph break is a personal preference, sometimes I do it and sometimes I don't, but it can make it a little easier to read, especially if the piece is long (like yours!) and so I would recommend putting that in, although you don't have to. I also know how finicky formatting can be in Scratch forums, especially if you originally wrote it in google docs, but adding an indent would help! I know the tab key doesn't work in Scratch forums, but what I like to do is put a few spaces, usually three to five, in replacement of that!

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I feel like you could use a contraction here, because “you are” makes it sound a little too formal. Instead, you could just write “you're.” Also, small thing that I don't know if the judges will even care about, but at the end of the dialogue you put ' instead of " and that was probably just a typing error, but I just pointed that out just in case.

“You are so lucky. Mine is cool, but it doesn’t look good on me like yours does. I’m just ugly.’

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Oooh, I love the character introduction happening here!! It really gives the reader insight to sort of who Cinder is and what she is good at, even if they haven't read the books (like me)! I think that you repeat “simple/simplistic and colorful” a bit too much, so maybe finding synonyms would be helpful here! For example, you could replace “colorful” with “vivid” or something like that, I don't know my brain is melted a little too much to come up with any words that would be really good to replace those words, but I think you get the point.

“Oh, Pearl, you’re not ugly. You just need to stop wearing such gaudy, ostentatious, dresses and go for more simplistic and colorful styles.” Cress was the resident style expert, but Pearl would keep going for sparkly white and gold instead of simple and colorful no matter what Cress told her.

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I think you could clarify who Adri is to Cress, Peony, and Pearl, just for the people who haven't read the series. I had to go search it up to figure it out.

“One of you will marry the prince, I’m sure of it,” Adri gushed. “You both look fantastic.”

—

Wait I love this line so much it's really funny hehe. Again, I think a contraction would be helpful here, just because without it, it sounds a little bit formal.

Pearl turned on the newscast and a video of Prince Kai appeared on the screen. “He is so hot,” Pearl and Cress gushed at the same time.

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Here, I actually like the contraction, because it goes with Lady Sybil's character. It really just depends on the character and their personality, I think.

Lady Sybil glared at Cinder. “You are going to block those satellite channels.”

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To me, it feels a little bit like a run-on sentence. Instead of the comma after the “…she had made,” you could put a period instead and start a new sentence with the “she would get a…” I think this sort of helps the flow of the piece as well.

It was part of a bargain she had made, she would get a bunch of Lunars she had found living on Earth back to Luna in exchange for getting to be on Earth for a minute or two.

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Aaaah I'm sorry I'm being a bit nitpicky today, but maybe you could add a comma after the “might consider” section, just to make it flow better, and the comma adds a pause, which I think helps in that part.

A curt nod. “Okay.” She had noticed that Sybil had said ‘might consider’ but it was better than nothing.

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This sentence was a little bit confusing to me, I had to reread it a second time to understand it better. Maybe you could rearrange the order a little bit, and that would help.

Cress and Pearl gossiped about the different styles of people in court and whether Linh whomever was dating that hot boy flirting with at least five different ladies.

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I think you could separate this section out a little bit, because it is this one big chunk, which makes it kind of hard to read. Just another nitpicky thing!!

Cinder was bored. She was always bored these days, but today she didn’t feel like rotting her brain with games that she had created, so she decided to try a thought experiment. If she could escape from the satellite, how would she do it? By now she had figured out a way off the satellite (wait until they bring her down to earth) but she couldn’t figure out what to do with Sybil. There was no way they would let a weapon near her, but she had to knock Sybil out somehow. If she managed to make herself strong enough to attack Sybil without giving Sybil time to turn the guard against Cinder, that might work. But she couldn’t find a way to do that logically.
Computers were awfully heavy, though, and she was good enough at engineering to figure out a way to make them hit Sybil and the guard. Then she would run into the problem of she didn’t know how to drive a ship.
A quick minute later, she had pulled up the internet thread she used to see things that were happening on Earth and found a website that taught you how to fly a ship. She, technically, couldn’t access webpages but she had written a piece of code that copied the HTML and pasted it into her personal web browser. The simulator on the website was what she was most interested in. Copying that code and pasting it into her own JavaScript processor disguised it as one of the games she coded herself and hid the fact that it came from a webpage.

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Overall, there wasn't much I could think of after that!! You did an amazing job with this, although I don't know much of the Lunar Chronicles I felt like I didn't need to haha (besides clarifying Adri). There was some amazing imagery throughout the piece, and even though this was kind of short, I could already get a feel for the characters and their personalities. I think in general, you could just elaborate on a few things a little more, and I know I didn't specify this earlier, but maybe add more figurative language in general? These things would help make this amazing story even better! I'm sorry, this isn't the most in-depth critique I've written, but I hope it helps!! Thank you again for letting me critique your piece, it was a joy to read and I can't wait to see where this goes!! Best of luck!

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886 words

A really awful short story for the team barbie challenge
It was really very very annoying to have the curse. It just did not make life easier. And it wasn’t your standard, well written, fairly manageable curse. No, it was that your entire setting and everything around you changed every three minutes! Like just boo. That was not nice. Daisy the axolotl sat there contemplating this unfortunate fate. She was currently in a very unhelpful position, thanks to her lovely very annoying curse. She was hanging out in a tree branch that she had not meant to end up in. But all of a sudden, the tell tale signs of a scene change came. The air started to shimmer like it was in a heat wave, gravity started to flip, it was like everything was falling…into a new scene. Daisy landed with a sad flop on an ice flow? Because of course the scene had dumped her in the arctic. But maybe there would be a polar bear! Except that would actually be quite bad because a polar bear would probably be willing to eat a axolotl. Daisy slipped into the water with a bit of undignified wiggling. She didn’t freeze to death because of her awesome scene hopping powers that made her immune to the environment in her new scene (not polar bears though). No sooner was she in the water then the air rippled, gravity flipped, and suddenly she was in a a bustling cafe. Daisy noted that this was a bit like those strange magic tree house books she had once read in a scene change to a library. Cliche, boring, rather predictable, full of jumping from place to place with little plot. Except Daisy was a axolotl so that made it at least kind of interesting. Much better than those books.
And just like that the cafe was gone in a woosh. Daisy mused that it would be really great if she could get a bit longer in between scene switching. Like three minuets was a very short time and a bit longer would be much appreciated. Daisy was now at sea? No clue what sea it was, but here she was, floating on some waves and bobbing around. It was very salty and she would probably die without her awesome powers. Since there wasn’t much to do other then float she did just that, while wondering vaguely if that storm she saw was a hurricane. Probably not? Well she would leave soon.

407 words

yayy let's do a challenge while I'm sleep deprived and apparently can't spell too-
my adjective is sparkly ✨✨✨
164 words

Maya stepped into the building that was labeled “Barbie Dreamhouse” in sparkly letters. She felt a sense of unease. Everything was… sparkly? Maya felt a twist in her stomach. The tables, the floors, the walls, the chairs, literally everything was so, so, sparkly. The walls were literally covered with wallpaper of sparkly sparkle emojis. It was so sparkly! Maya herself even started to feel… sparkly?! No no, this couldn't be! Maya was not sparkly! Hey, that sentence was rhyming! Oh no, even this piece of writing is getting sparkly! ✨✨✨ It's a sparkly nightmare for Maya. Maya was, well… the opposite of sparkly. Until now, apparently! The sparkle was clearly rubbing off on her! It kind of was impossible for it not to, the sparkly glitter was literally falling from the ceiling it was glued to. Maya herself started to feel sparkly, and comfortable with the sparkle! It's a sparkly miracle! The sparkle of barbieland sparkled everything it touched, and it stays purely sparkly!

Alright, it's time for another one of my cabin wars rants! Basically what's going on here is I have to write a thousand words, and I'm just going to ramble to get it done because I really want to go to sleep soon! I have to get up early tomorrow to pack and go to my lesson, but I know it's unlikely for people to be on to complete this, and it's only a thousand words so I might as well write it. Maybe I'll be able to hit thirty thousand words total! I think I can do it! So anyways that is the reason why, instead of doing something productive, like making a writing comp entry I've yet to start, my summer work, or the weekly, I'm doing this. Not that I have the brain capacity right now to do any of those, it's super late and I just want to get this done. Another reason I'm not doing the weekly is because I don't think I'll be able to get it done! I'm leaving tomorrow so I'd have to speedrun it. Instead of writing a full story for my writing comp, I'm thinking of just doing a really deep poem that's shorter. That way I won't have to spend as much time on it. (theoretically.) and even if it takes longer to write it would take less editing and critiquing than a short story, because I really don't have time for that at all. It should in theory take me less time. I feel like I always end up doing writing comp entries last minute rather than putting real work into them. I wish I did but I always procrastinate and since it's just an online thing it really doesn't take much priority. I'm also just not the best writer in general, so I don't expect to win and therefore don't put much effort in ever. But who knows, maybe if I did! That's not the point right now though, the point right now is to get volume. Which is why I'm typing at my superhuman speeds! Just kidding, it's not superhuman, because I'm a pretty normal human, I just have a pretty high wpm. It's also harder to write fast when you have to think of what to write first, which is why the rambling and ranting whatever comes into my head is best for cabin wars. Again, I'm really just trying to get this done here so I can go to bed, not make quality writing. I also forget if one of these forum thingies is usually a thousand or five hundred words. I think it's five hundred, a thousand is just way too good to be true right now. I'm almost two lines to that! I find it interesting that you can write complete junk like this for words but conversational stuff doesn't count unless it's in roleplay format. I guess they don't just want people talking and counting each individual word, but still. Whatever. I don't care, because this counts, and my thoughts are pretty garbage right now considering it's really late - or technically really early in the morning - but I don't even care. I just said that. Well now I'm repeating myself. And my spelling is getting worse and worse, partly due to my fingers slowing down because my hand is starting to cramp. It's also just because it's late slash early and Im' going insane. Ugh get me to a thousand words already! I was write half a forum thing in this box is only five hundred words, so I am a little over halfway there. I like the satisfying feeling of soloing wars, even though it's very tiring in the moment. Especially because the reason you're usually soloing is because it's so late at night. But someone has to do it and I'm proud to support my cabin. And also I want to go out with a bang since I'm leaving tomorrow. I raised my word goal up to thirty thousand, which is double my original goal! I reached it and then added ten thousand, but I hit that earlier today and then realized that I would still write a bunch in cabin wars because I like to carry like this! So I said what the heck why not raise it again just a little. Yeah I'm not doing a weekly. Anyway. I thought of a thing to write and the thought came into my head but then I forgot it. Sparkles. That wasn't the thought that was just random. And once again I was going to write something else after sparkles but got distracted and forgot it! I'm really sleep deprived I think and I want to wake up semi early tomorrow oh no. Anyways I remembered what the second thing after sparkles was! I have spread the sparkle emoji throughout the main cabin, more people started using it! I also did an extra challenge that was like you can only use one adjective so I chose sparkly and I ate that extra challenge up! Lol that's really cringey of me to say. Typing it out makes me cringe at myself but anyway. I did it. It's too bad you can only do one extra challenge because it prevents me from just doing them all. I think that's the point though haha. But it would be easier! Apparently the kens, the other team, have already completed a bunch of extra challenges. Speaking of I should make them a new comprehensive comment explaining the challenges they've done and which cabins have done it again. I bet they forgot all about the which cabin part which is important, because there's no repeats there either. I only have a couple more lines to go to get to a thousand words, maybe like two or three! And by the time I finish writing this sentence it'll be more like one or two lines! Actually nevermind I think I underestimated the amount of lines I had to write before. Now it's like three left from here. Actually no more like two because that was in the middle of- never mind. My gosh my spelling is getting more and more atrocious the more that I write! Maybe I won't write the summary post my fingers are cramping I'm really getting tired here. It's quite late. It's really bad. And I'm only going to get like six and a half hours of sleep which is way too little for me personally but it's okay I'll have some snapple and a mango waiting for me as breakfast. I have things to do so they're going to get done. I procrastinated for far too long. And then on the journey I'll work and make that poem. I will ask someone in the cabin to do an extra challenge though from this war I completed. Anyway I think I've written more than enough so bye.

critique for coast | 07.26.2025

Hi Coast!! I'm sorry I took a bit to get this to you, but I'm Celeste, and I'm ready to (finally) read and critique your piece! I'm really excited to do this, because I just realized I've never read your writing before haha! This is like my third time critiquing poetry, so uh yes. Also, if I give you a lot of feedback, but don't specify what I like about the piece, that doesn't mean that there is nothing I liked, it just means I'm trying to get to the point in the least amount of words possible. Just keep that in mind, and let's do this!

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I'm probably not going to do the most in-depth critique of my life, but I'll definitely try to find ways that you could expand it! Just a quick note hehe.

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I feel like in general for the poem, some lines are too long, which doesn't match the majority of the lines, which tend to be on the shorter side. I hink you could spread some of them out a little bit more, just so it looks better, and so some of the lines don't feel like run-on sentences that aren't sentences, if that makes sense.

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Another overall thing that I think could help you expand your poem: add lots of figurative language! I love how your poem is describing things and what happens, but adding imagery, simile, metaphors, anything like that would really help bring the poem alive even more in the reader's head. This would also make your poem longer, which would definitely be helpful!

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Since I've decided to be at least a little nitpicky, you don't need the apostrophe in “it's,” it should just be “its.” (I think I got this from my English teacher last year…) I don't even know if the judges will care about this, but I just felt like pointing it out just in case.

Tides push and pull, wrenching kelp away from it’s anchors

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I think that another thing in general that could help you expand the poem more would be to tell a story with your poem. Honestly, I don't do that as much as just expressing emotions through poetry, but I think in your poem especially, adding a small story would be perfect!! This is just a suggestion, though, you don't have to take it.

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Honestly, I loved this poem so much!! There are a few things that you could do to expand it, but I already listed them above, and besides, you just don't know how good you are at writing (aka give yourself more credit)!! I do think adding figurative language more would help, that would be my top suggestion for you, but I loved this poem! I know I didn't really specify what I loved about it, but I really liked your descriptive language and your word choice! These really added to the poem, and if you work on it just a little more I know it'll be amazing. Thank you for letting me critique this, it was pretty short, I know, but I hoped this helped.

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506 words

Barbie Challenge 4 - The Barbie Movie includes an end-credits song called “What Was I Made For?” by the wonderful Billie Eilish. Give the song a listen (if you can!). What do the lyrics make you think about? Take that feeling and run with it as you write 350 words of a story in which the protagonist discovers their true purpose!
Word count : 462 I hope that this counts
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Looking through the streets as she walked Eva saw the sun rising as she walked towards school. She really didn’t know what she was doing anymore, it was just a lot of going to school and heading home. She had used to be happy a lot more, and now it just felt like she wasn’t. School had used to be a lot easier for Eva and now it just seemed like she was failing all her classes.

Everything was stacking up and she didn’t even know what she was anymore. If she was someone who people really cared about or not or was she just a burden to everyone she was near.

Entering class she already knew the grade that was going to be put back down on her table, probably a big read 0%. She had no confidence in her writing assignment, she did love writing essays and this one was something that she had done a lot of research into and it still felt like it could have been better and she could have written more.

But, when she flipped over the piece of paper on her desk she realized that it was a green 100% with a bunch of compliments on her writing. Flipping through just to make sure that she was 100% sure that she was actually looking at her own work Eva just blinked at the page.

After class when all the other students had left for their next class Eva walked up to Ms.Schmitz desk. “Are you sure you actually did this correctly?” Eva asked, putting her work on the table.

“Yes, I am pretty sure I did it correctly.” Eva’s teacher said, pushing it back towards her. “I think that you have a talent for making people pay attention in your writing to something. Even if it is as uninteresting as different energy transfers.” Ms.Schmitz finished with an encouraging smile.

Walking out of class holding her piece of paper that now meant the world, Eva was filled with a burst of enthusiasm.

⋆｡°✩☾ა ☆ ໒☾✩°｡⋆

Walking outside of a bookstore and knowing that her book was in there still brought joy to Eva. It had been years since Ms.Schmitz had convinced her to start writing and since then multiple of her books had become best sellers and she still enjoyed every book signing. And every time she looked at her work it still reminded her of what she did was truly her purpose in life to show that you could write a book no matter where you came from or what your grades had looked like. To show all those kids out there who were good at writing and didn’t shoot for the stars of writing a book that it was possible.

Barbieland (do you even spell it like that? pfft-) was known for one thing - its pinkness. Every inch of the realm was covered in very bright pink. The houses, also known as Barbie Dreamhouses or something similar to that (help I am not acquaintaind with Barbieland at all xD), have pink walls, pink floors, pink roofs, pink windows (maybe?), pink window shutters, pink doors, pink bathrooms, pink toilets, pink dressing rooms, pink bedrooms, pink door frames, pink living rooms, pink… everythings, basically. Did I mention yet that the furniture is also very pink? Well, I mention it now. Barbieland's Barbie Dreamhouses have every pink furniture in the whole wide world. Pink beds, pink chairs, pink desks that might or might not have been flipped by the Sage we all love (wink wink!), pink bookshelves, pink pencil cases, pink pencils, pink paper… are just some examples of how pink Barbieland actually is.
(151 words)

Barbie Challenge 4 ⟡ What Was I Made For?

Life became boring. The same routine every day, the same pretending and the same loving, the same sadness and the same rewards. She didn’t know whether this was a life worth living. Life was good for her, perfect even, and she was immensely grateful for that, but the questions kept racing through her head. Why her? Why was it she who had to feel this way? Why was the world this way? And so every day became chances to be happy and every night became chances to be productive. Things still didn’t work out.

She thought a bit too hard about these things. Played piano then nearly cried about how it made her feel. Thought too hard about the future and undeniable fates, thought too hard about love and twisted ways, thought too hard about society and who she really was. Who she loved. Could love. What she was holding back. But then, one ordinary night, she realised something.

Life isn’t going to make itself great for you.

You’ve got to make it great.

A silent vow, a new perspective and a wave of thankfulness. Life is the greatest thing that could happen to you, if you just let it happen. She had thought that everything she did was too useless to put effort in. But everything was everything, after all, and this was for her. Sure, this realisation didn’t mean she was all the way there yet, but she was prepared to give everything her all and love and laugh and write and play. She was prepared to make life great for others, too.

The next morning, she logged online and went to forums, writing down her story in the most dramatic way possible, wondering if anyone had suspected that this was about her. Something about her feels lighter. happier, more peaceful. Her mind felt cleared. She noticed the little things she should be happy about. The many posters on her wall, the stacks of books and little trinkets. The sun seeping in through the curtains and the tote bags heaped on her door handle. She paused for a moment, to take it all in.

Then she smiled.

───── ⋆⋅ ⟡ ⋅⋆ ─────

359 words

In Barbieland, everybody absolutely loves the color pink. In fact, everything is glitzy and glamorous and perfectly rosy! So, for this challenge, we’re going to experiment with monochrome in our own whimsical writerly way. If you select this challenge, you must write 150 words of a story. But there’s a twist—in the entire piece, you are only allowed to use ONE adjective. Good luck, Barbie!

_________________________________________________________________________________

Barbieland is pink. The grass? Pink. The clouds? Pink. The cars honk pink tunes down pink lanes leading to pink plazas filled with pink fountains. Nobody wonders why.

Each Barbie wakes in pink pajamas, slides down pink staircases, grabs pink toast, sips pink coffee, and skips off to pink jobs. Ken’s pink tie flaps in the breeze as he zooms past pink trees dropping pink leaves. (No one pays attention to HIM, though, Barbies are obviously the superiors. *wink wink nudge nudge*) A squirrel wears a pink beret and does not elaborate.

The mayor, always punctual, declares pink news while riding a massive pink hover-throne. Her assistant once wore teal earrings. No one speaks of him anymore.

Someone suggests green. Barbieland blinks. A pause. Then, pink banners unfurl and pink cupcakes arrive. Green is forgotten.

Pink rules. Pink comforts. Pink contains multitudes.

Everything remains pink.

One color. One destiny.

It's…

Pink.

Barbie challenge 4 : 350 words

Tears pool down my face as I stare down into the well. It was all a lie. Every breath, every word. All for show. I should’ve known better. Shouldn’t have believed the lies. A small, logical voice tells me that it’s all okay. That I couldn’t have known better. But the part of my heart that used to believe that everything will end up okay is long dead, has been for years. I remember back to something my grandmother used to tell me when I was little. “Not everything has a happily ever after. But that doesn’t mean we should stop trying for one.” My grandmother. Another person who is now gone. But her words trigger something inside of me. A fire of sorts.
Things might not end up well for me or anybody but that doesn’t mean I should give up the fight. Doesn’t mean I should make my hard work all go to waste. I stand up and wipe my tears. There’s at least one person who still wants my help. I pull on some shoes and run all the way to Marie-Lou’s house. She opens the door at the first knock and looks surprised but also relieved to see me.
“Hi. Are you okay?” She asks and I nod.
“I think I’m ready. Ready to fulfill my legacy.”
She smiles softly and lets me in. I follow her to the very bottom of her basement.
I step into the tube and Marie-Lou takes her place at the control deck.
“Juliet Elizabeth Baeton.” I hear her say, “Are you ready to begin your transformation for the greater good?”
“I am.” I reply and with those confirming words, Marie-Lou presses the button and the tube closes. After a few seconds, a sweet-smelling scent fills my nostrils and I am knocked out cold. But now I’m ready. In my unconscious form, I feel nothing. No dreams, no pain, barely even any consciousness. Just darkness. And when wakefulness rolls around and I look at my newly transformed self I don’t regret what could’ve been. I smile and embrace my new purpose.

no fancy header today because i want some critique hehe

this is the same scene from two different point of views, Sakura's and Nova's - you can critique one or you can critique both!

Sakura was hiding in the ceiling panels of the science lab. This was… completely, utterly, totally normal. (It was not.) Sakura thought that the ceiling would provide a better place to hide, and then later crash through for the element of surprise, but it was somehow worse than the vents. Anyways, she was thankful that she was wearing her tactical suit and not her nice school clothes. To be fair, she had an always be prepared mentality at school and would usually wear her jacket over the shirt she chose for the day.

Sakura could hear a scuffle happening below, and she guessed that it was the two self proclaimed superheroes Star and Crimson Hawk, and her evil chemistry teacher, Mr Lewis Harrison, who had plans to take over the world. Before she did anything else, Sakura did a quick weapons check and ensured they were where they thought they were, and firmly secured her mask to her face, which would hopefully prevent anyone from recognising her. Sakura’s position as a somewhat well-known figure skater would mean that she could be recognised by some random person on the internet should things get out. Sakura’s Agent Tsuki Miyazaki Zhang, Codename Ethereal persona was different to how she acted as her real self - instead of the elaborate hairstyles she wore as Sakura, Tsuki would wear simple and practical hairstyles, usually a ponytail or a braid. That was how she found herself now: her hair tied up in a ponytail, weapons at the ready, a mask covering part of her face, and an earpiece in her ear. “I’m going in,” Sakura said into her earpiece, hoping that friend-turned-trainee-agent Taylor Sanderson (who was monitoring comms) would hear her. “You might want to call for backup.”

“Copy,” came the reply of Sanderson. Sakura knew that both Taylor and Artemisia were currently hiding in an empty classroom, Artemisia trying to get any camera footage to save onto a different computer while Taylor had handed her a ridiculously long and unnecessary report on how best to take advantage of her evil chemistry teacher’s psyche. She didn’t read it.

Sakura switched on her voice modulator, before slowly lifting up the ceiling panel. Looking down, she could clearly see the kerfuffle that was happening between the two self proclaimed superheroes, Crimson Hawk and Star, and her chemistry teacher. They were not having a good time with this. Sighing, Sakura dropped through the ceiling, landed on the floor and took the advantage of surprise.

“Where the heck did you come from?” Someone asked, clearly confused at Sakura’s sudden appearance. Sakura ignored them, focusing on the task at hand. She swung her body around Mr Harrison, her somewhat evil (definitely evil) chemistry teacher, throwing him against the wall. Someone screamed. Mr Harrison groaned.

“Arms behind your back,” Sakura ordered, as she put the handcuffs on him. She was a little jumpscared by the way her voice came out, but quickly recovered. “You’re under arrest for conspiring against the government and as a threat to both national and international security.”

“Who… who the hell are you?” Harrison groaned as Sakura firmly secured his handcuffs.

“Agent Miyazaki,” Sakura said, using her primary alias.

“Miyazaki!” A new voice called, and Sakura could see her partner, Agent Sasha Wilder, emerge through the door. “He’s down?”

“He’s down,” Sakura affirmed, before releasing her grip against Harrison. “He’s all yours now, Winters,” Sakura added, addressing Sasha by her primary alias, before handing him over to Sasha.

“Meanwhile, you-” Sakura said, glaring at the two self-proclaimed superheroes in the room, “- should learn to not interfere.”

“What?” Said Star, clearly confused. “We were doing just fine before you came in the room,”

“You,” Sakura hissed, “were interfering. And you were almost about to get slammed.” She turned and left the room without saying another word.

-

Nova thought they were doing quite fine, thank you very much, trying to take down the evil chemistry teacher. What happened after, she wasn’t sure, but she and Sora were sure trying to stop some kind of crazy world ending disaster from happening. That is, until someone crashed through the ceiling.

It was hard to tell who the person was, dressed in all black. “Where the heck did you come from?” Nova exclaimed, confused. This was supposed to be her mission, not-

The next thing Nova heard was groaning from Mr Harrison as he was pushed firmly against the wall, the intruder grabbing some handcuffs from her utility belt. “Arms behind your back,” a not-quite-human, clearly modulated voice said. “You’re under arrest for conspiring against the government and as a threat to national and international security.” The way they spoke was clearly authoritative, but Nova still didn’t know who they were.

“Who… who the hell are you?” Mr Harrison groaned as the new person kept him pressed against the wall.

“Agent Miyazaki,” came the reply.

“Miyazaki!” A new voice called, and the intruder - Agent Miyazaki - turned to face the doorway. “He’s down?”

“He’s down,” Agent Miyazaki affirmed, and Nova noticed the agent had released her grip on Mr Harrison, passing him over to the newcomer, who was dressed similarly to Agent Miyazaki - sans mask. “He’s all yours now, Winters.”

Suddenly, Nova could feel Agent Miyazaki’s eyes look directly at them. “Meanwhile, you should learn to not interfere,” Agent Miyazaki said, glaring at her and Sora.

“What?” Nova was confused. How could she have known that this was going to happen, that whoever this agent was was going to come in and show her up? “We were doing just fine before you came into the room,” Nova added.

“You were interfering,” Agent Miyazaki hissed. “And you were almost about to get slammed.” Then, Agent Miyazaki turned and left the room without another word.

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i'm not sure what my dream house would look like. i'd want it to be small but also large at the same time. it kind of just depends on my mood, though i guess i'll describe what one of my dream houses would look like. it would have a lot of rooms. there would be a large library full of all my favourite books, maybe a cinema, maybe even an indoor pool. i would love for there to be a few secret rooms and lounges that i can just relax in after a long day. there would be lots of pillows. everything would look rather cozy and it would smell good smells. yeah i don't know what's classified good smells but it would make me feel calm. i love variety so maybe there would be different styles of furniture in each room? i think that would be cool. overall, it would be a calming place to relax but also have tons of fun. there would be a lot of space, too.

crystie entered the dream house. her first thought was, woah. is this real? realistically, if i were to enter my dream house, i'd probably pinch myself a few times and wonder if i was dreaming. though, i guess it is called a dream house for a reason. anyhow, she entered the place with sparkles in her eyes. she immediately caught eye of a bookshelf. she rushed to the bookshelf and inspected all the books on it. it had so many of her favourite books, along with some she hadn't read before but thought she would like. she went to grab a book when she accidentally slipped and pushed the shelf aside. don't ask how. she can be rather clumsy. it was okay, though, since she revealed a secret passage! isn't that cool? curious, she entered the passage, hoping it didn't lead to some terrifying place. thankfully, it didn't end up leading to some terrifying place, but rather a cozy lounge that smelled of mangoes. bean bags and pillows were strewn about everywhere and fairy lights hung from the ceiling. there were even more books and bookshelves inside, which made crystie's eyes sparkle. she grabbed a random book –– or more accurately, searched ten minutes for a book that suited her mood before eventually growing tired and picking a book at random –– and sat on a bean bag, ready to spend the rest of the day all cozy and great.

409 words

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