Writing Criticism:
These were both such good reads, the Sam one especially because of its depth and the Prat one- I laughed so hard, such an awesome thread idea!Prat Pass wrote: 25 Jun 2025, 18:12 Saw this for a while, Now I'm open to feedbacks
Samuel Thread
Prat Thread
| xxxxx | ⊹✧𝖫𝖸𝖠𝖭𝖭𝖠 ~ ency ☼ 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 ☼ |
⋮ ⋮ |
⊹ Sta 6 | Eva 10 | Str 7 | Wis 4 | Arc 4 | Acc 10 ⊹ ─── ‿︵˓ ʚ♡ɞ ˓ ︵ ‿ ─── |
⋮ ⋮ |
xxxxx |
Writing Criticism:
Here's a new summer solo if you guys are interested in giving feedback on it!
Be the change you wish to see |
||
in the world. |
Writing Criticism:
This is amazing! I love how descriptive you were of Avery's emotions! and just the descriptions of the surroundings in general Would definitely want to read more!Avery Gray wrote: 26 Jun 2025, 00:26 Here's a new summer solo if you guys are interested in giving feedback on it!
Writing Criticism:
Keep up the good work people! I love everything everyone is writing!
Dance poor people, dance and drown, dance fair Paris to the Ground. Dance poor people, dance and drown, dance fair Paris, ashes now.
❀ Crimson Sugar Curiosities! ❀ [OPEN!]
Writing Criticism:
Is it possible to get feedback on any writing? Not just for HiO, but for school or something?
| PC Piper Hart - Slytherin | |
Sta: x | Eva: x | Str: x | Wis: x | Arc: x | Acc: x |
Sta: x | Eva: x | Str: x | Wis: x | Arc: x | Acc: x |
Writing Criticism:
Yes! This is any writing at all, no matter if it's for school, personal work, Hio. Anything at all!Piper Hart wrote: 28 Jun 2025, 06:00 Is it possible to get feedback on any writing? Not just for HiO, but for school or something?
Dance poor people, dance and drown, dance fair Paris to the Ground. Dance poor people, dance and drown, dance fair Paris, ashes now.
❀ Crimson Sugar Curiosities! ❀ [OPEN!]
Writing Criticism:
Oh ok. Amazing!!Nyx Blackheart wrote: 28 Jun 2025, 11:24Yes! This is any writing at all, no matter if it's for school, personal work, Hio. Anything at all!Piper Hart wrote: 28 Jun 2025, 06:00 Is it possible to get feedback on any writing? Not just for HiO, but for school or something?
Well here is something I’m working on at the moment. I started it today and would love to get some feedback! Chapter 1 is not done yet but there is the prologue and start of chapter 1
Reducio
They will not remember him.
That is the price of what he is. He doesn’t belong in their songs or stories. No portraits bear his image. No graves hold his name. Yet he stands at the threshold - always the last to see them, but never the first to be seen.
Once, long ago, a child looked him in the eye as she crossed the threshold. She smiled and whispered, “You’re not so scary.”
He remembers her.
He remembers all of them.
Even now, he walks beneath the changing sky, his steps silent as sunrise, watching lives unfold like the pages of a book. He knows who will be next - he always knows. Not because he chooses, but because the Veil shows him. The Veil shows him everything. And yet, he never gets the full story. Never gets the chance to know what happens - not until it’s too late.
He understands the necessity of it, yet still wants to know more.
Why does it happen?
Why does the Veil decide?
Why can’t I do anything?
But perhaps his most frequent question:
Why am I here?
Every day, night, and in between, he watches as the threads of fate twist around his fingers - cold, constant, controlled. He can only watch as they twist and turn, coil and squeeze. No matter what he does, it’s always there - making him watch and wait, wondering who it will be next. He never knows them. But he always feels sorry for them.
But this time... something is different.
There is one he’ll never forget - unlike the others who’ve come and gone.
One whose time was up, yet survived.
One who saw him - whom he saw, too - but faded before he could guide them on.
He sees them in his dreams - always running, always remembering him.
That should be impossible.
But as the world begins to crack, and the balance he has protected for eternity begins to tear, he begins to wonder:
Is this soul the end of him...
...or the only life who truly remembers?
Ashriel was not born.
He was made - drawn from silence, bound by sorrow, forged from the breath of a lost memory. When the world began, there was no one to guide the dead. Souls vanished into the dark, their names lost, their faces erased. He came into being the moment the world learned to forget. The Veil had stirred to correct this imbalance, this silence. So it answered with a whisper. A form. Created from sorrow and silence, from shadows and memory, not alive or dead but something else. A guardian.
Ashriel.
He does not know who named him. Though he suspects it was the Veil itself. He has held that name for so long that it feels not like a label, but only a shape carved into existence. A shape that no living soul should see.
He is the keeper of the unspoken. The watcher of the forgotten.
The world calls him many things. A ghost. A wraith. A shadow. But none of them are quite right. He is not Death. He is what comes after. He waits. He watches. He guards them. He remembers them when no one else will. They are not the kings and heroes who die with crowds at their feet, but the ones who vanish alone - the lost children, fallen wanderers, forgotten beings. He remembers them all.
That is his purpose.
That is his burden.
And it is certainly a heavy one.
Wherever a life ends unseen, he is there. When the last heartbeat fades with no witness, no farewell, he is the one who listens, gathering their names, their souls, their lives. He stands by the flickering hospital beds, by the crumbling bones in long abandoned fields, beneath the fading stars when no one is left to say goodbye. He is there for all of them. Always.
Prologue
Somewhere Between
Somewhere Between
They will not remember him.
That is the price of what he is. He doesn’t belong in their songs or stories. No portraits bear his image. No graves hold his name. Yet he stands at the threshold - always the last to see them, but never the first to be seen.
Once, long ago, a child looked him in the eye as she crossed the threshold. She smiled and whispered, “You’re not so scary.”
He remembers her.
He remembers all of them.
Even now, he walks beneath the changing sky, his steps silent as sunrise, watching lives unfold like the pages of a book. He knows who will be next - he always knows. Not because he chooses, but because the Veil shows him. The Veil shows him everything. And yet, he never gets the full story. Never gets the chance to know what happens - not until it’s too late.
He understands the necessity of it, yet still wants to know more.
Why does it happen?
Why does the Veil decide?
Why can’t I do anything?
But perhaps his most frequent question:
Why am I here?
Every day, night, and in between, he watches as the threads of fate twist around his fingers - cold, constant, controlled. He can only watch as they twist and turn, coil and squeeze. No matter what he does, it’s always there - making him watch and wait, wondering who it will be next. He never knows them. But he always feels sorry for them.
But this time... something is different.
There is one he’ll never forget - unlike the others who’ve come and gone.
One whose time was up, yet survived.
One who saw him - whom he saw, too - but faded before he could guide them on.
He sees them in his dreams - always running, always remembering him.
That should be impossible.
But as the world begins to crack, and the balance he has protected for eternity begins to tear, he begins to wonder:
Is this soul the end of him...
...or the only life who truly remembers?
Chapter 1
Born Of Silence
“Some are born of light. Others of fire. But I was shaped in silence… and silence is not easily broken.”Born Of Silence
Ashriel was not born.
He was made - drawn from silence, bound by sorrow, forged from the breath of a lost memory. When the world began, there was no one to guide the dead. Souls vanished into the dark, their names lost, their faces erased. He came into being the moment the world learned to forget. The Veil had stirred to correct this imbalance, this silence. So it answered with a whisper. A form. Created from sorrow and silence, from shadows and memory, not alive or dead but something else. A guardian.
Ashriel.
He does not know who named him. Though he suspects it was the Veil itself. He has held that name for so long that it feels not like a label, but only a shape carved into existence. A shape that no living soul should see.
He is the keeper of the unspoken. The watcher of the forgotten.
The world calls him many things. A ghost. A wraith. A shadow. But none of them are quite right. He is not Death. He is what comes after. He waits. He watches. He guards them. He remembers them when no one else will. They are not the kings and heroes who die with crowds at their feet, but the ones who vanish alone - the lost children, fallen wanderers, forgotten beings. He remembers them all.
That is his purpose.
That is his burden.
And it is certainly a heavy one.
Wherever a life ends unseen, he is there. When the last heartbeat fades with no witness, no farewell, he is the one who listens, gathering their names, their souls, their lives. He stands by the flickering hospital beds, by the crumbling bones in long abandoned fields, beneath the fading stars when no one is left to say goodbye. He is there for all of them. Always.
| PC Piper Hart - Slytherin | |
Sta: x | Eva: x | Str: x | Wis: x | Arc: x | Acc: x |
Sta: x | Eva: x | Str: x | Wis: x | Arc: x | Acc: x |
Writing Criticism:
I love it!!!!! Soo good!Piper Hart wrote: 28 Jun 2025, 11:53Oh ok. Amazing!!Nyx Blackheart wrote: 28 Jun 2025, 11:24Yes! This is any writing at all, no matter if it's for school, personal work, Hio. Anything at all!Piper Hart wrote: 28 Jun 2025, 06:00 Is it possible to get feedback on any writing? Not just for HiO, but for school or something?
Well here is something I’m working on at the moment. I started it today and would love to get some feedback! Chapter 1 is not done yet but there is the prologue and start of chapter 1
ReducioPrologue
Somewhere Between
They will not remember him.
That is the price of what he is. He doesn’t belong in their songs or stories. No portraits bear his image. No graves hold his name. Yet he stands at the threshold - always the last to see them, but never the first to be seen.
Once, long ago, a child looked him in the eye as she crossed the threshold. She smiled and whispered, “You’re not so scary.”
He remembers her.
He remembers all of them.
Even now, he walks beneath the changing sky, his steps silent as sunrise, watching lives unfold like the pages of a book. He knows who will be next - he always knows. Not because he chooses, but because the Veil shows him. The Veil shows him everything. And yet, he never gets the full story. Never gets the chance to know what happens - not until it’s too late.
He understands the necessity of it, yet still wants to know more.
Why does it happen?
Why does the Veil decide?
Why can’t I do anything?
But perhaps his most frequent question:
Why am I here?
Every day, night, and in between, he watches as the threads of fate twist around his fingers - cold, constant, controlled. He can only watch as they twist and turn, coil and squeeze. No matter what he does, it’s always there - making him watch and wait, wondering who it will be next. He never knows them. But he always feels sorry for them.
But this time... something is different.
There is one he’ll never forget - unlike the others who’ve come and gone.
One whose time was up, yet survived.
One who saw him - whom he saw, too - but faded before he could guide them on.
He sees them in his dreams - always running, always remembering him.
That should be impossible.
But as the world begins to crack, and the balance he has protected for eternity begins to tear, he begins to wonder:
Is this soul the end of him...
...or the only life who truly remembers?
Chapter 1“Some are born of light. Others of fire. But I was shaped in silence… and silence is not easily broken.”
Born Of Silence
Ashriel was not born.
He was made - drawn from silence, bound by sorrow, forged from the breath of a lost memory. When the world began, there was no one to guide the dead. Souls vanished into the dark, their names lost, their faces erased. He came into being the moment the world learned to forget. The Veil had stirred to correct this imbalance, this silence. So it answered with a whisper. A form. Created from sorrow and silence, from shadows and memory, not alive or dead but something else. A guardian.
Ashriel.
He does not know who named him. Though he suspects it was the Veil itself. He has held that name for so long that it feels not like a label, but only a shape carved into existence. A shape that no living soul should see.
He is the keeper of the unspoken. The watcher of the forgotten.
The world calls him many things. A ghost. A wraith. A shadow. But none of them are quite right. He is not Death. He is what comes after. He waits. He watches. He guards them. He remembers them when no one else will. They are not the kings and heroes who die with crowds at their feet, but the ones who vanish alone - the lost children, fallen wanderers, forgotten beings. He remembers them all.
That is his purpose.
That is his burden.
And it is certainly a heavy one.
Wherever a life ends unseen, he is there. When the last heartbeat fades with no witness, no farewell, he is the one who listens, gathering their names, their souls, their lives. He stands by the flickering hospital beds, by the crumbling bones in long abandoned fields, beneath the fading stars when no one is left to say goodbye. He is there for all of them. Always.
Dance poor people, dance and drown, dance fair Paris to the Ground. Dance poor people, dance and drown, dance fair Paris, ashes now.
❀ Crimson Sugar Curiosities! ❀ [OPEN!]
Writing Criticism:
This is amazing! I love the sense of mystery you gave it.Eugenia Karageorgiadi wrote: 28 Jun 2025, 07:13 Can someone give feedback on this? I’d like to make a similar solo and English isn’t my first language.