{ ＩＮＫＬＩＮＧＳ } LOCK! NEW THREAD

[Chai Tea]

[TheCryptid]

{{ Username: }}
Feel The Beat

{{ What we will call you: }}
Beat, Beats, or Katie :3 Which ever is fine

{{ Will you critique other's work?: }}
Possibly

{{ Links to your story if you have any: }}
Well, I don't have any active ones, so I will soon remake:
Nova
It's Twisted. It's Hard. (will re-name, PM me suggestions?)
And I also have been writing a story called Haunted, it's not posted yet, so I can't give a link ;3

{{ Anything you want us to know?: }}
Yes, I actually have not written anything for a while, of why I decided to join. I thought maybe someone here would help me get back on track? Because I can' write as good detail as I used to, but I am trying to improve again. Thank you!

[Viiperfang]

Username:
.: jeanne :.
What we will call you:
Jea, Jeanne, sheron
Will you critique other's work?:
Possibly
Links to your story if you have any:
None that are actually finished...
Anything you want us to know?:
mmm, Nope. :'D
but thank you.

[houndpine]

Tryout art for a JBD, I need critique! <3



My name is Tyson.
I'm a writer, and I search around the world for interesting stories. I wander from place to place, writing down tidbits in my black spiral notebook. This is one such story that I have found, one of the new that has stayed in my mind and heart the longest...

I had just left a hermit living alone in the mountains and came to a small town, the kind where everyone knows everyone and everything that happens.

I stopped in the local café, struck up a conversation with an old jbd that sat there. There was your standard fare- divorces, businesses closing, a fire... But then he said something that caught my interest.

"And, of course, there's that mysterious gal who sometimes comes here to eat..." He said, glancing around him as if to check that the ''mysterious gal" wasn't listening in. I motioned for him to continue.
"Well, see, she just walked into town one day, a couple a years ago. Kinda like you, 'cept she didn't carry nothing with her but those beads on her tail. She didn't speak to anyone except to ask where there was a place ta stay. No one really knows her name, though it's been nearly three years she's been here. The only time she talks is to order food or ask a question. Other than that, nada."

- | -

It's been three months. I talk with her every night.
She's given me many answers when I ask her name- Isabelle, Etta, Analli, Cargas, among others, but I think I've cornered her real one- Rynn.

She can be quite pleasant, really... Kind and elegant and smart and refined. But whenever you ask something too personal, she either clams up or turns it back on you.

Her beads seem to be important to her. There must be a story behind them.

I'll keep trying to dig it up.

- | -

I have a lot to tell you.

A lot.

A couple nights ago, I brought up the subjects of her beads again.
such beautiful beads... who gave them to you?

She looked at me. For a long time.

okay. i'll tell you.

I was shocked. Stunned. I didn't know what to say.

when i was yet unborn, my parents did something. i don't know what, but people got sent after them. bounty hunters. we were constantly on the run, me and my parents. one day they left to get food. they never came back. i lived on my own for a year. survived. i came back to our camp, found a handful of blue green beads underneath a rock. there was a faded, crumpled note. i could barely read it. 'to rynn, with love'. they never got a chance to give it to me.

The next day, Rynn was gone.



Please tell me what you think, and how it can be improved. c:

[Small Child]

So I tried to write a song. It's kind of about child abuse, or neglect, or some dark happening.

Sitting here in the corner collecting dust.
Hoping the door hinges won’t rust.
You left us outside.
Left us… in the rain.
Once when we were tied at the hip
Back when you were a little kid

So now the rain pours down our faces
Guess we fell out of god’s graces
We fall apart
Trying to claw back into your heart
Our colour slips away
Getting lost out in the rain
Mud stains our pretty blouse
Because you left us out of the dollhouse

Pale eye stare wide
As the wind changes tides
Our stare lost in the rain
Lost… to your pain

Tony hands numb from the cold
Thinking back on days of old
Try to recollect
And forget the neglect

So now the rain pours down our faces
Guess we fell out of god’s graces
We fall apart
Trying to claw back into your heart
Our colour slips away
Getting lost out in the rain
Mud stains our pretty blouse
Because you left us out of the dollhouse

[Roonil Wazlib]

Can someone please critique my piece for Lady Luck's contest? If anyone could take a look I'd be very grateful.

Everett Lowell put two fingers in his mouth and blew. A loud, shrill whistle escaped from his bitterly cold lips. A carriage driver pulled over to the side of the road, yelling “Whoa!” at the dark brown mare pulling the carriage.
“Where to?” asked the driver as Everett climbed into the carriage.
“Abbey Grove.” he said. “Last house on the right, you can’t miss it.”
The driver chuckled. “To the old Thorington place, then? You’d better ‘ope you’s expected, then. They don’ like strangers.” He laughed again, this time a big booming laugh Everett could feel deep in his chest.
Everett shuddered. “Yes, they are expecting me. My family is good friends with them.”
“Oh, so you’s one of those hoity toity rich folk, then? You don’ strike me as much.”
Everett kept his jaw clenched and tried to ignore the driver’s offensive remark. “Yes.”
The carriage rumbled on in silence. Everett saw the scenery rushing past, only slightly familiar. He ran over the words he had memorized in his head over and over. If he made a single mistake he knew that Louisa wasn’t going to accept him, and all of his grand plans for the future would be ruined.
Louisa Thorington, would you do me the honor of marriage? No, that wasn’t right. Louisa, marry me? Louisa Thorington, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? She leapt up. “No, no, you’re not doing it right.” Her hands were turning green and...scaly?
The carriage jolted to a stop. Everett woke up sweating. “We’re here.” said the driver gruffly. “That’ll be fourteen pence.”
Everett nodded and pulled the money out of his coat pocket. He pulled his coat tighter around his tall frame and dropped it into the driver’s outstretched hand.
“G’night, mister.” said the driver, clicking his tongue. The horses started off, their hooves echoing on the cobblestones.
Everett clicked up the stone pathway to the front door. He usually didn’t go to the front door, but this time his visit was much more important than a quick chat or tea with Louisa.
He rapped his knuckles on the wooden door. The few seconds he waited were long hours. The door opened and warm light spilled on him. Charlotte, one of the family's maids, was standing in the doorway, her slight frame outlined by the light.
“Oh, mister Lowell! Wat a pleasure.”
“Hello, Charlotte, is Louisa in?” he asked, forgetting his manners in his haste.
Charlotte nodded. “She’s waitin’ for you in the hall wiv the missus” Charlotte moved aside. “Come in, I’ll bring you to ‘er.”
“Thank you, Charlotte.” He followed the tiny slip of a maid into the grand house. He had grown up in a house similar to it, though perhaps not as big. The Thoringtons loved art and had a great many paintings hung up on their walls. Scenes of life were hung on the walls, like little windows into someone else’s mind.
They arrived in the parlor. Louisa beamed when he stepped into the room. “Everett, dear, come in!” She motioned for Charlotte to leave. Charlotte did a quick curtsey and left, to the kitchen presumably.
Everett went over to Louisa and sat stiffly next to her. She rang a little bell she was holding. “ANNE!” she yelled. Everett covered his ears.
Anne walked into the room, surprisingly light on her feet for a heavy woman. “Yes miss?”
“Can you hand me that pillow, over there?” She pointed a long finger to the other side of the room.
Anne didn’t seem fazed by Louisa’s unwillingness to walk halfway across the room. She got the pillow and went over to Louisa’s side. “Where would you like it, miss?”
“Right here would be lovely.” said Louisa, lifting her head. Anne placed the pillow there. “Anything else, miss?”
“No, not right now.” Anne curtsied and left the room.
Everett didn’t say a word. “Louisa, I have....something to...um...” He tugged on his collar. It was intimidating to have Mrs. Thorington there, staring at them with bright blue eyes. Louisa’s eyes, though Louisa had a softer edge around her eyes.
“Yes, Everett?” asked Louisa, staring at him.
“Will you marry me?” he burst out, embarrassed.
Mrs. Thorington made a show of looking away, but she was clearly still watching them.
“Oh, Everett!” said Louisa. “I knew you were going to ask me. I was talking to Mummy the other day, and she said “Louisa, dear, you do know Everett’s sweet on you.” I had no idea but when I thought of it, I thought about all those nice things you did and thought that I’d never seen you talk to another girl, not even one!”
All of these things were blurring together in Everett’s mind. He had no idea what she was talking about. He sat there like a stone statue with no idea what to do.
Mrs. Thorington cleared her throat quietly. “Louisa, dear, give Everett your answer. The poor man’s overwhelmed by all of your chattering.”
Louisa’s cheeks turned a light pink color. “I...can I have a moment?”
Everett nodded, terrified. He stepped out the door, but stayed close so he could hear snatches of Louisa’s voice.
“Mummy...sweetest....what do I say?” He heard her mother’s voice mumble a reply, then Louisa’s again: “I know....poor....really like....love?”
Everett’s knees were shaking. He rested his hand on the wall to steady himself. Louisa’s little bell sounded through the door, and Charlotte rushed past him into the room, carrying a pot of tea on a silver tray. She shut the door carefully behind her, giving Everett a dirty look.
It seemed like hours went by before the shiny door swung open again. Mrs. Thorington was holding the door open.
Everett gave her a weak smile. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” Her response was clipped, sharp. “Louisa has her answer.” She stepped past Everett into the hall. Charlotte was still in the room, standing in the corner with the teapot at ready.
“Sit down, Everett dear.” said Louisa.
He sat, his shaky knees collapsing in the uncomfortable stuffed chair.
“Do...do you have an answer?” His mouth was dry.
She smiled. “Yes!”
“Wh-what? Yes you have an answer or yes you will marry me?”
“Yes!” she said, laughing.
He smiled, his face regaining some of it’s color. “Well that’s marvelous!”
“Of course it is!” Louisa rung her bell again. “Charlotte, more tea. And take Everett’s coat and hang it up.”
“Please.” added Everett hurriedly. Louisa glanced at him questioningly.
“Wait, why do you need my coat?” asked Everett.
“Oh Everett, you’re staying for a celebration dinner of course!”
“I..I am?” he said as Charlotte took his coat.
“Yes! It will be lovely! Charlotte, tell Prudence to cook the grandest feast she can.” she said, her cheeks even redder with excitement.
“But how can they cook so much on short notice?” asked Everett.
“Oh, they will.” Louisa adjusted her hair. “I need to go change!" She leapt up. “Isn’t it exciting? We’re finally going to marry!”
Everett gave her a small grin. She was exhausting, but he still couldn’t help but be infused with some of her happiness.
“I’ll be back in a tiny bit. Char, tell Mummy I’m going to change. And please send up Rose to help me!” She was out the door in a second, with Everett left in the room alone. Well, almost. Mrs. Thorington was watching from the door.
He nodded politely. “Hello, Mrs. Thorington. I don’t believe I greeted you properly.”
She gave him a tight lipped smile. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Lowell. Louisa is so happy that you’ve chosen her- and I must admit, it’s quite brave for someone like you to ask someone like her.”
“What do you mean, Mrs. Thorington?” Everett had a faint idea of what she was getting at-
“Dear Everett, I mean your money of course! Your family is...part of the middle class, to put it lightly.”
“You mean you mean you won’t let us marry?” He stared at her with wide eyes threatening to overflow with tears. He had wanted this so much...
She chuckled. “Oh no, I already have two daughters married well, a third one would be pushing my luck. But, I’m offering you some-" she paused carefully, considering her wording. "-advice. Watch your step.”
Suddenly Louisa was standing at the botton of the stairs, dressed in an elaborate concoction of silk and feathers. She looked radiant.
“You look lovely, Louisa.”
She blushed. “You’re too kind, Everett.”

The End (for now)

[Lilysplash]

Oh thank you so much! If you haven't read my book The Jewel Empire, it's about Princess Wildfire who turned wicked, and when she was changed back she was worried the Empire would hate her and want to kill her, though she knew she would stay good forever. I NEEDED to do a song about it and finally got inspiration. <3

Reading books 1 and 2. Forgive me if I don't get some of it, I'm no pegasister!

[trashguts]

Hello again ;u;
I was wondering if anyone could critique my short story for me? It ends a bit more abruptly than I had planned, but I have almost no time to work on it before the contest ends.
It's here.

[nutella ♥]

So I tried to write a song. It's kind of about child abuse, or neglect, or some dark happening.

Sitting here in the corner collecting dust.
Hoping the door hinges won’t rust.
You left us outside.
Left us… in the rain.
Once when we were tied at the hip
Back when you were a little kid

So now the rain pours down our faces
Guess we fell out of god’s graces
We fall apart
Trying to claw back into your heart
Our colour slips away
Getting lost out in the rain
Mud stains our pretty blouse
Because you left us out of the dollhouse

Pale eye stare wide
As the wind changes tides
Our stare lost in the rain
Lost… to your pain

Tony hands numb from the cold
Thinking back on days of old
Try to recollect
And forget the neglect

So now the rain pours down our faces
Guess we fell out of god’s graces
We fall apart
Trying to claw back into your heart
Our colour slips away
Getting lost out in the rain
Mud stains our pretty blouse
Because you left us out of the dollhouse

I'm not a very good critique, but this is what I have to give you. c:
It's amazing. I kind of sang it in my head as a fast song, especially the chorus. I love the lyrics and the meaning behind it, so lovely. c:
That's all I have to say, sorry. >.< not much critique there, actually. Like I said before, I'm a terrible critique but I tried. I've never really written a song before, either, so my knowledge isn't quite up to par.
Anyways, beautiful song!

[Cherry]

It's pretty. Short, for a song with a chorus, but it is written well. Though on the line "Tony hands numb with cold" do you mean tiny?
I've written songs, but there's not as much of a "right" way to write a song as there is in writing a book. (Correct me on this, but really the only crit you'll be getting is A) music critics and B) people in a song writer's group or maybe the people who are singing/buying your song if you happened to sell it.)
I like it. It's a pretty subtle message for something so terrible, and I think you really got this from a kid's perspective.