/crit/ don't be scared

[Anonymous No.16021883]

post your work

[Anonymous No.16021917]

Here goes nothing...

It dances across her aunt’s arm, blazing a path from her shoulder to her wrist, twisting in
the air but leaving her skin untouched. Tendrils of flame curl into the shape of a bird, small
wings flapping like it might leap off her aunt’s arm and take flight, leaving trails of orange
behind it.
“Do you like that, Genny?”
A wordless nod, and Genny reaches a finger out, bending it hesitantly before plunging it
through one wing of the fire-bird. The wing curls around the intrusion, flames turning purple at
the edges. She gasps, but it doesn’t burn. “How do you do it?” she says.
Aunt Hana doesn’t answer, but Genny can hear the smile in her soft hum. The purple
flickers to a light blue, like the ocean she saw last week with Aunt Ida and what seemed like half
the other young ones. It was dazzling from afar, less so when her cousin Ben kicked some
droplets into her eyes.
“Remember, Genny. Hey.” Aunt Hana taps her cheek until she looks her way, blinking
against the image still burning her eyes. Her aunt’s expression is strange, more serious than
Genny’s ever seen it in her four years. “It’s our secret, remember?”
Nodding slowly, Genny tries to arrange her own face into an expression as grave as her
aunt’s. “Our secret.” She likes the feel of those words on her tongue.
“Good girl.” Aunt Hana turns, red hair falling over her shoulder so that Genny sees her
face only in profile as she jerks her arm, the fire-bird leaping into her palm. Like a sigh, a blue
breath of air leaves her lips, curling in the air and shimmering where it touches the little creature
of flame. The bird bows its head and tucks its wings in before stretching them out like one last
grasping at something. The final bits of orange are consumed by the blue, and the fire-bird
dissolves into the air. Aunt Hana pulls her dress sleeve back down her arm.

[Anonymous No.16022013]

I return to the Bath
Where the women sat
Eating candy and dough
Lazy, sleepy and fat

I enter with my sword
And not another word
When soft hands grab for me
Soft moans whisper “my lord”

[Anonymous No.16022746]

>>16022013

>Muh DnD Chad fantasy

Have sex incel

[Anonymous No.16022759]

>>16022013

>Rhyming sword with word

I fucking can't lol

[Anonymous No.16022782]

>>16022013
please reevaluate your existence.
not everyone has to live til they're old.

[Anonymous No.16022792]

>>16022759
How does lord sound?

[Anonymous No.16022834]

>>16022792

At least it rhymes but using fantasy trope words for poetry is cringe.

[Anonymous No.16022898]

>>16021883
Is that baby Balzac?

[Anonymous No.16022915]

>>16021917
Not bad

[Anonymous No.16022916]

>>16022898

>asking about baby ballsacks

MODS

[Anonymous No.16022945]

>>16022916
If you tenderize your baby ballsac it is apparently possible to project your ostensible cranium into the hypermental scrotal plane, upon which you are free to write galaxial shitposts in stardust free from the intervention of solar system jannies.