rin♡’s Comments (group member since Apr 07, 2022)

rin♡’s comments from the Writer's Not-So-Anonymous group.

We Were Strangers // NerdyReader_8804 on Wattpad!

Nat Cleardrop:

I never thought I’d dread the first day of my junior year, yet there I was, sitting in my car while the parking lot emptied as the bell rang out. Students rushed past my car, joining the flow toward the main building with their backpacks slung over their shoulders and new shoes scuffing against the wet pavement. Despite it still being summer, it had rained all last night and this morning, only taking brief breaks to let the sun shine through the silver-tinged clouds. Apparently, the weather in Washington was really bipolar this time of year.

“You can go over to your Dad’s,” Mom had said to me last night over the reheated spaghetti-and-zucchini. “You don’t have to go back just because you think you should, Nat.”

I’d swirled my fork on my plate, gathering up some noodles before stabbing the tines into a green vegetable. “I can’t. If I go, Hayley and Kirsten win.” And I refused to lose.

Never mind that I lost all my friends at Lost River High, but I was also notorious for being the daughter of the woman who had gotten into an affair with the mayor- who happened to be the father of my ex-best friend, Hayley.

The conversation had ended and I excused myself to go up to my room and sleep despite it being only six. I rarely had the energy to do anything anymore.

Breathing in deeply, I exhaled, opening the car door and almost bowling some poor underclassman over.

“God dammit!” she swore, and I gaped at her through the crack in my door.

“Sorry!” I apologized, squeezing through my ajar door and closing it. I looked down at the short blond girl sprawled on the concrete, her plaid skirt flared over her bruised knees. “I didn’t see you.”

She looked up at me through her hair, eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. “I think you dislodged my femur,” she said.

I grimaced. “I’m really sorry-”
The tardy bell rang.

“Oh, for the love of…” She groaned, taking my outstretched hand and standing back up, dusting off the back of her skirt as she experimentally stretched her pale knee, wincing. “Well, that was fun.”

I started to apologize again, but she waved me away. “Honestly, I don't give a shit. It’s not the first time I’ve tripped.”

I bite my lip against what I really want to say: Technically, you didn’t trip until I hit you with my car door.

She sighed, picking up her teal purse and looking longingly at the main building. “That was a good way to start the first day of school,” she muttered, making it seem like I wasn’t supposed to hear it. She glanced over at me, looking surprised I was still standing there frozen. “Do I get the name of my assaulter at least?”

My mouth gaped open and closed like a dying fish before I realized she was kidding. The fact that she kept a straight face unnerved me.

“Nat,” I said, offering her a hesitant smile. “I’ve never seen you before. You new?”

“Is it that obvious?” she mumbled, looking embarrassed. “Damn, there goes the whole blending in with the crowd plan! Whatever shall I do?”

I tried to smile again but feared I looked like I was constipated so I stopped. “What’s your name?”

“Eleanor, but everyone calls me Sloan.” She gestured to my car. “You gonna get your bag, or are we going to skip?”

I couldn’t tell if she was serious, and I’ve never skipped a day in my dreadfully boring life, so I quickly grabbed my backpack from the backseat and locked the SUV. Together, we headed toward the school.

“So where did you move from,” I started, the silence thick with awkwardness.

She smiled a little, grateful I said something. “New Jersey, home of Six Flags Great Adventure.”

“What’s that?”

She stared at me. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I-I mean, I’ve never been to New Jersey-”

“You don’t have to have gone!” she practically screamed. Apparently, not knowing what Six Flags Great Adventure was was a great offense to her. “Everyone- and I mean everyone- knows what it is! It’s an amusement park. Do you not have an amusement park over in Always Rainy, Even-In-The-Summertime Washington?”

“I mean, we do. I forgot what it was called, but I went to one on my birthday a few years ago…”

“Girls.” We looked up at the administrator, Ms. Aushwen as she held the door to the office open for us. “You’re late, and on the first day too.”

“Sorry,” we said simultaneously, slipping into the attendance office. I headed toward the front desk to type in my student ID, Sloan following close behind, looking like a sheep in the middle of a wolf pack.

I grabbed the tardy slip out of the printer as soon as it came out, the paper still warm between my fingers. I waited until Sloan got hers and we walked out into the hall.

“What’s your first class?” I said. Please say math.

“History,” she said. “Thank God. I love History.”

I squashed down my disappointment and pointed her down the correct hall. She waved, ducking into the library to get there faster, and I sighed. Would I even see her again? The one person who didn’t hate me?

As I headed up to the second floor for Intermediate Algebra, I stopped by the bathroom to fix my frizzy hair. The brown strands were stuck to my flushed cheeks thanks to the humidity and my shower this morning combined. Dark circles beneath my eyes stood out like a bump in a road. I hadn’t bothered covering them before heading out, eager to escape the empty house. Mom was rarely home; she worked too many hours as a sheriff.

As I spread my Carmex lip balm over my chapped lips, the door squeaked open. I cringed, glancing at the person in the mirror, sliding the lip balm in my bag again. Dark eyes stared back at me, wide with surprise before narrowing.

“What are you doing here?” Hayley Carmichael said, crossing her arms and staring at me in the mirror.

I swallowed, turning around. “I go here,” I said. Duh.

“What I meant,” she said, lip curling as she looked up and down at my wrinkled dress shirt and worn-out jeans, “was: what are you still doing here?”

I clenched my jaw, turning back toward the sink and turning it on. I splashed water on my make-up free face, goosebumps cropping up on my arms as water ran down my neck.

“You ruined my life, my family,” she said when I didn’t respond. “What more do you want, Nat? What else of mine do you want to take from me?”

I shut the water off, ripping a paper towel from the dispenser and rubbing it over my refreshed face. “I don’t want anything from you.”

She laughed. “Right. If that’s what helps you like yourself more. I thought we were friends, but then you ruined everything. Thanks to you and your whore of a mothe-”

I was suddenly in her face, glaring at her shocked face. “Don’t fucking say anything about my mother,” I said quietly. “Whatever she does, that wasn’t my choice. I felt sorry for you-”

“So that’s why you didn’t tell me? While me and my mom and brothers lay asleep, you didn’t tell me because you felt sorry for me? Three months, Nat. Three months you didn’t tell me, that I believed we were friends and my father still loved me and my mother-”

“He still does-”

“No!” She glared at me, eyes red. “You don’t get to talk. Not now. Now is my turn.”

I swallowed.

“Sophomore year turned from the best into my worst nightmare because of you,” she continued. “I loved you like a sister, but this whole summer, where we didn’t talk, didn’t text- I didn’t block you,” she admitted, almost ashamedly. “I didn’t block you even though I knew I should’ve. Tell me why,” she said, and I thought she actually wanted to know. “Tell me why I waited for you to reach out to me, why I cared and why I still do. Tell me, Nat, I need to know. Is it worth it? Are you worth it, despite the hell you and your dear mommy put us through?”

We wore matching expressions of devastation. The anger, the jealousy, the pain and resentment… All of it was thick between us. If someone walked in, I feared that this was the last time we’d talk, and I missed her, missed us.

“I wanted to,” I started, my voice hoarse with repressed feelings. “I really, really wanted to, Hayley, but…”

“But what?”

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t text you knowing I didn’t deserve our friendship.”

She stared at me, lips pressed in a white line. “And do you?” she whispered. “Do you feel like you don’t deserve our friendship?” She seemed almost scared of my answer.

If you love them, you have to let them go.

“I do.” The words left before I could take them back. Hayley, my long-time friend from before high school, stared at me, almost like she didn’t hear what I said. “I don’t deserve it.” The words were barely a whisper now.

“Fine.” She stepped back, chest heaving. “Fine, okay. I get it.”

“Hayley-”

“You don’t deserve me,” she said, her voice cracking, looking how I felt- like she was going to cry. “You don’t deserve me or you don’t want me. Fine. I’ll see you around.” Her I guess was lost in the slamming of the door.

I was frozen, stuck in an endless loop of disappointment, anger, pain. I tried to do the right thing, but just like my dad, just like my friends and anyone I’ve ever cared about, it backfired on me. What was the point in trying to do anything right anymore?

Hayley asked me what I wanted from her; I couldn’t even answer honestly, because the truth?

The truth was that I wanted her back.

Finally made a booktok! @devil_not_angel_8804

yasmin ☾ wrote: "Maybe “Dance of the thieves” I have heard of it sm and I need it read it!!:))"

I'm the same!! It's been on my TBR for awhile now.

Sarah wrote: "Your character is with a group but they get separated and accidentally get locked in a closet. Now they could wait for help...or they might......."

My character (i'm thnking of a character from one of my WIP) would probably lose her mind and start throwing herself against the door, trying to get out, and scream all the while.

WHAT IF...
Your character's love interest falls in love with someone else- who turns out to be your best friend?

Ahh, this sounds so good! I love Greek mythology!!

Oh my God, I love that name. AND THE PREMISE IS JUST *chefs kiss*

reanimated

✨Emily✨{marauders version} wrote: "Hmmmm I’m boreddd is anyone online lol"

Meee

kessaa (marauders version) wrote: "yayyy

but important question: how do you write like that?? like i mean im jealousss"

Bro, IDKK. 😭 I read a lot and also read a lot of writing advice bc I'm a sucker for authors' interviews.

kessaa (marauders version) wrote: "*screams*💗💗💗💗 I LOVE ITTTT I CANT WAIT FOR MORE

also how was he the sole survivor that one time??? im rly curious about what happened there"

*smirks* There will be a novella that explains everything MWAHAHAHA 😈

CHAPTER TWO
MALCOLM POV

Malcolm looked past his bow at Deltar, grinning. His brother rolled his eyes.

Shoot it, he mouthed. Someone was impatient.

Malcolm turned back to his target: a wolf he had seen before, but this was no ordinary wolf. It was as big as the houses back home in Aaun, as thick as the surrounding trees that offered cover for the two brothers. The wolf didn’t see the hunters as it ravaged a bird. The colorful feathers of the zeonti was dyed a terrifying bright red as the wolf gorged himself, digging into the motionless victim. Bright blue and green, orange and yellow feathers, they were all scattered around the forest floor.

Malcolm stretched back his bow, pulling the string taut. His stomach was roiling at the sight of the poor bird’s guts strewn about, blood smeared on the wolf’s protruding snout. The sound of the tiny bones snapping was so sickenly similar to the twigs that had cracked beneath his feet when they were tromping down the hill, pulling their horses by their steads. And the sounds the beast was making… It was really enjoying itself.

Malcolm could feel the impatience radiating off his brother, so pushing the bile down, he steadied his arrow and breathed out of his mouth slowly.

They were downwind from where the wind was blowing so the wolf couldn’t smell them. Hidden behind a thick foliage also proved to be a fantastic cover for both them and their horses, tied to a nearby tree by their tethers. They quietly stood there, ears occasionally flicking. Malcolm supposed it was a miracle that they hadn’t noticed the wolf’s scent yet.

Yet.

The barbed head of the arrow aiming at the wolf’s huge blue right eye, Malcolm let go just as the ground started to quiver. He watched in disbelief as the arrow went awry, flying into the bushes behind the wolf.

Just wonderful. It was clear he had just signed their death warrants.

The wolf’s head shot up just as the earth shivered again, and Malcolm and Deltar flung their arms around their respective trees, trying to maintain their balance. What was happening?

The bright early evening light seemed to darken, casting their shadows on the forest floor ominously. Deltar swore as the wolf let out a low growl, moving quickly as he fitted an arrow in the notch and shot. He did not miss.

His arrow thudded into the wolf’s hulking shoulder, but it didn’t slow down. If anything, it grew wilder, more intent on murdering them. Malcolm sent up a quick prayer to Ionwounz. If they made it out of this alive, he’d stop the pathetic rivalry between him and Deltar.

If.

The ground shuddered again, sending Malcolm tumbling to the ground, his bow falling to the side and a handful of his arrows spilling out of the quiver. Rotten luck. Del stood, his feet planted firmly in the dirt as he readied another arrow. He didn’t try to balance himself, instead moving with the rolling turf, moving with it instead of against it and therefore maintaining his footing. Behind them, the horses were screaming, yanking so fiercely at their tethers that Malcolm feared they would break their necks.

He scrambled to his feet, swooping up his bow, and toward the horses. Untying the leads was hard with the rolling of the ground and the horses prancing about, terrified, hooves flying, but eventually the ropes loosened, and he held onto them, the ropes cutting patterns into his palms.

“Del!” he yelled, trying to stay upright.

His brother dropped his bow and took out his sword, steel scraping against steel as it was unsheathed. Malcolm yelled again as the wolf lunged forward, huge, dagger-like fangs snapping. Del slashed in an arc at the beast, sending the wolf rolling towards Malcolm. The horses screamed, reins ripping his palms to shreds as the horses made to get away.

The beast grabbed Malcolm’s beautiful roan by the neck, crunching down on the massive bones in one, swift, cruel movement, whipping its head back and forth, effectively snapping the neck. Bones snapped and the light dulled in the roan’s eyes. The wolf let go only when the head was messily detached. Teeth covered in blood, and leaped at Del’s escaping horse, clearing the five meters with ease, slashing the stallion from ribs to flank. The horse let out an ear-splitting scream, nostrils flaring wide and dark eyes rolling. It turned, blood streaming down its side in sheets, hooves thundering against the packed dirt as it escaped.
The ground stilled.

Then Del came out of nowhere, face grim as he appeared in front of the wolf. In one brutal slash, he cut the beast’s throat before swiftly turning the blade and stabbing it into its gaping maw. The wolf let out one, shuddering gasp, eyes fixated on Del with hatred, pain, bloodlust, before it slumped to the ground. Del’s blade slid out of its mouth, slick with blood.

Malcolm sank to the ground. “Shit, that was close.” The words came out breathlessly, full of pain and relief. He held his hands to eye-level, staring at the bloody and torn meat of his palms, blood smeared and still dripping, the air stinging the wounds. Disgusting.

Del swung his sword in a low arc, blood splattering on the dead wolf’s slowly cooling body, before angrily sheathing it. He started to yank the arrows out of the wolf, a boot planted on the shoulder as he swiftly pulled it out, a wet sucking noise occurring as the flesh reluctantly let the arrow go.

Malcolm let out a shaky breath. Everything had gone wrong. Nothing was supposed to go wrong, he had hunted before without having almost been mauled to death. Well, except for that trip in the Aaunian mountains with Uncle Kutoth… And Fa… That hunting trip had ended with Malcolm being the sole survivor.

He watched as his brother stalked over to where Malcolm’s roan lay, headless. He stared as Del grabbed the head and started back to where Malcolm sat, slumped against a trunk. Blood leaked out of the neck of the horse.

Del came to a stop in front of him. He was a mirror-image of Malcolm except for his cold emotionless blue eyes. Malcolm had gray eyes; it was probably the only way to tell them apart besides Del’s standoffish personality.

{TO BE CONTINUED}

kessaa (marauders version) wrote: "im crying actually tears i dont think i expressed myself properly… YOU CANT LEAVE ME ON THAT!!!!!!!!!

do you have more lol i think im gonna die"

LMFAOO I DOOOO but it's not a complete chapter yet... Are you okay with that?

kessaa (marauders version) wrote: "no you cant leave me on that
that was evil
BUT SO SO GOOD AHHHH LIKE ALWAYS"

Aw, thanks so much girl!! I've been working on Dying Light for like 3 years now💀 I've already got the whole series planned out😂

Sarah wrote: "Kiss Keenan. Marry Percy Jackson. Kill Rhysand.

Kiss, Marry, Kill

Elias from An Ember In The Ashes
Kia from the Lunar Chronicles
Keefe from KOTLC"

KILL RHYS??

kennie wrote: "Nita (nyktos' version)♡ wrote: "So I just saw a question about word count for a single novel and this is what I said:

Hey! So cool you're also a fellow writer, and word count is very important, ho..."

Sure, I'd be willing to! What's your Wattpad @?

So I just saw a question about word count for a single novel and this is what I said:

Hey! So cool you're also a fellow writer, and word count is very important, however for a standalone novel, the word count is the same as any novel- even a part of a series. Over 40,000. Trust me, it looks like a buttload, but you'll find yourself needing more words. I wrote a novel and it's 47,606 words. You'll write and write and write, and then you'll realize you wrote a crap ton of words that need to be slimmed down, and that's easy to do if you look at your plot and if it moves the plot forward, or adds meaningless nothing to your story, in which you omit. Also omit unnecessary "but" "and" "as" basically things like that.

For whoever comments next:

Kiss, Marry, Kill:

Keenan from An Ember in the Ashes
Percy Jackson
Rhysand (from ACOTAR)

Make sure you leave a Kiss, Marry, Kill question for the next person, folks!!

were

I stayed up last night acting out the scene where one of my characters gets beheaded. And everything else, and then I got the idea for a sequel series fdsfdsfds. But like, THE BEHEADING DOESN'T EVEN HAPPEN TIL THE SECOND BOOK LMFAOO. I actually cried several times acting out the scenes.😅 Guess I got too into it.

the