What do you want to be when you grow up?
Sambriel tapped their pen against their chin. What did they want to be when they grew up?

Sexy, duh! They chuckled, that probably wasn't what was meant by the assigned writing prompt, but it was about the only goal they had. Being attractive, being pretty, being delightfully cute, what else would this cute delightful lovely framed face be? They thought a little more, and a little more. Their adoptive mother was a cook, and avid historian, their siblings had all kinds of ideas, but what did they want? Reading was a passion. A light tap of the pen against their cheek, perhaps, a critic? They smiled in an almost evil manner, yes, literature, and critiquing it would do best.

Their pen flew over the paper, a deep sort of laughter bubbling from the somewhat impish chimera, They would be a book critic, specializing in high fantasy, and trashy romances. Pouring over books and and short stories, giving insight and their ideas, because who wouldn't want to hear what they thought about the writing? Who wouldn't be honored and simply enjoy their critiques? Or come to fear when something was not up to their standards? Yes, this would be their drive their goal, their absolute grown up goals. Become a world renowned book critic, perhaps move into other things once their reputation was established, but books would be their main passion.

Sambriel's fingers came to a stop as they smiled to themselves, it was decently written and should be more than fine for them to turn in, it wasn't like they hadn't thought about what they wanted to be before, but this made it concrete, a real idea. No longer a mist of vagueness, written out in curling penmanship, they felt proud of themselves, this would work, and this would be where they moved forward to.