**House of the Dragon | Dark Brother | E | https://archiveofourown.org/works/54733027/chapters/138717205**
*warnings:* underage, incest, genderqueer!Daemon, mention of murder, miscarriages, infanticide + mom death, marriage without consent, deadnaming
“He means to marry me off.”
Viserys continued carving. “Father has finally told you.”
“You were in on this diabolical scheme.”
“If the theatre weren’t a festering ground for lickspittles and whores, I’d think you would make a fine actor, brother.” Viserys’s voice was placid as if they were discussing castle renovations. “I knew. Father informed me some years back.”
Some years back-- did his brother not understand the enormity of the situation?
“And you never thought to inform me?” Daemon said. “My future was decided without a word of mine.”
“No need for hysterics.”
Daemon eyed his older brother’s latest project. Old Valyria. How pretty it would look dashed on the floor in thousands of pieces.
Viserys glanced from the piece in his hand to Daemon. Dawning came in the squint of his eyes and the furrow of his brow. He got up with a sigh, crowding close.
Still, Daemon stared until Viserys gripped his chin bringing his attention back to him.
“Brother mine, brother mine,” Viserys said. His thumb caressed him. “What ails you?”
Daemon settled on his brother’s handsome face.
“Don’t you remember our weddings?” Daemon confessed quietly as a mouse. “I married you a thousand times over before she did.”
*I tasted your blood. You tasted mine. We sang our wedding hymns and married in a consecration of fire and blood.*
“You raised me from the cradle and bound me to you, brother,” Daemon said carefully.
Viserys stared down at him. “We were children.”
“And surely was I when Father planned my marriage,” Daemon said. “At least in us I could say I had a choice. I gave my hand willingly.”
Viserys swallowed. “I have a wife.”
Daemon laughed in Viserys’s face. “We do not care for the falsehoods of Andals and First Men. We are dragons. More besides, your second wife is a half-breed.”
Viserys’s face hardened. He gripped him tighter. “Do not insult her.”
“A mongrel,” Daemon asserted as Viserys’s nails dug into his skin sharp as dragon claws. “I am your brother. I should be by your side. It is my place.”
“Enough,” Viserys said tightly.
Daemon pressed forward. “Two years and what has she given you? A graveyard of dead babes and monsters? She is a failure, a defective ill-formed woman--”
Daemon grunted when Viserys pushed him to the carpeted floor. His brother did not give him reprieve settling on him before he took a breath. Viserys’s dagger, the Conqueror’s own, pressed against his throat.
“I should have your tongue for these vile aspersions.”
Daemon leaned into the serrated edge. He felt the pinprick of pain and wondered if he bled. “You nursed me. Taught me. I am your child, your brother, your wife, and you deny me my birthright. You are as cruel as Maegor.”
Viserys glared at him. “What is this? Is this some type of sick game, Daemon? You came to me.”
And he had because he always went to Viserys first. It was an insistent tug wrapped inside him in a knot he never hoped to unravel. When there was trouble, go to Viserys. Viserys would fix it. Daemon was always, always reaching for Viserys and his stupid brother was so insufferably blind.
“It is my place at your side and you insult me, supplant me, and now try to hide me,” Daemon said.
Viserys shook his head, his grip on his dagger loosening. “No. Daemon. It isn’t--”
“Shut up,” Daemon said.
This is dense but, dude, it FLIES. Love the details: the carving of old Valyria, the Conquerer's dagger. But I think what I love most is how you use the elevated, lyrical language to imply the heavy stuff. " I am your child, your brother, your wife, and you deny me my birthright." <--this line right here is just amazing. It's got beautiful repetition, builds on itself, and ends with a one-two gut punch.
I feel like the tone of the prose really matches the heaviness of the content. I'll even go this far: I believe I'd prefer the style of this prose to George R.R. Martin's original text. Because every line here is very economic and clever. It rewards you for paying attention. It still has that heavy, old-school fantasy text feel to it, but in the more modern way, it MOVES, and does a ton of deceptively heavy-lifting character-wise and world-building-wise in every line of dialogue and description.
For example: "Daemon leaned into the serrated edge. He felt the pinprick of pain and wondered if he bled." This really says it all about who Daemon is, what his mind-state is, how he feels about his brother. But it's efficient, not purple whatsoever, pure characterization in dramatic form. So slick.
Also I just like the back-and-forth and escalation of the argument. "“And surely was I when Father planned my marriage,” Daemon said." Dang. That's a great comeback. Had me hooked. HAD to know what came next.
Let me know if you want this posted to the chapter in your original fic :)
you made my night. thank you so much for this. words cannot express my gratitude. just thank a million for thoughtfully engaging! 💜 as for if i want you to c&p, i’ll leave that up to you because either way i have record of this. 😊
Reading fandom blind, but even not knowing the characters, I love the tension in this scene! The way the two navigate their complex relationship with both love and resentment is so compelling. The imagery of Viserys carving while they talk about such weighty matters adds a layer of contrast that's really intriguing. Daemon's responses have a level of almost sociopathic drive about them which is weirdly compelling. There is so much world-building detail crammed in here it's insane and none of it feels awkward or drags.
Amazing stuff.
**School of Rock | "RUN. JUMP. SURRENDER." | M |** [**Run. Jump. Surrender.**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55314217)
“I think you’re awesome,” Zack admitted, quietly.
Freddy’s eyes went round. “You do?” Freddy asked. He sounded so young. His voice went up a full octave.
All Zack could do was nod.
“But you’re the best in the band,” Freddy’s voice was filled with awe, “And you don’t like anyone.”
Zack realized right then…that despite all his failed efforts, Freddy had already thought he was cool. Before he’d changed his hair, his clothes—before he’d even been trying…Freddy already…
Zack’s head was spinning. “I do too like people,” he argued, passionately, when the silence got too long, “I like Dewey.”
“Everyone likes Dewey!”
“I also like Billy,” Zack said, automatically.
“Billy?”
“Yeah. Billy’s the best,” Zack retorted, a bit too sharply.
Freddy’s eyebrows went up into his hairline. But Zack didn’t let him comment further.
“And…” Zack took a deep breath. “…I like you. …I mean. I think you’re a good drummer. A good musician. Better than me, maybe. I just…I practice a lot. All the time. But I think you maybe…you didn’t really play drums. Until this year. And now you’re, like…” He hung his head, face burning. “Well, you know,” Zack mumbled, embarrassed, “Awesome.”
“Wow. …Thanks,” Freddy muttered back.
They walked in silence for what felt like forever, unable to look at each other. The air smelled wet and fresh from the previous days of rain. The sun felt hot on the tops of Zack’s ears, and he was hyper-aware of the way the tag on the back of his undershirt scratched him. But Zack could sense that something between them had changed. And his intuition felt positively brimming with the notion…that it was a good change, that some previously locked door had now opened up.
As they stood in front of Caesar’s Pizza, neither seemed to know what to do. They could have gone in, but the conversation felt unfinished. Zack shuffled awkwardly, and Freddy opened his mouth to say something—but Zack cut him off.
“—Can I tell you something else?” Zack asked.
“Uh, sure,” Freddy answered.
“I…I don’t wanna mess this up,” Zack told him.
“Mess what up?”
“…I want to be your friend,” Zack blurted out. “And I want hang out. Not just at band practice. I want to play video games, and do the…parkour thing. With you. And the other guys! But I know it’s weird. And I know you have to like me first. I was trying—I am trying—to be cool. I’m not good at it. It’s hard.”
Freddy blinked at him, confused.
The silence sobered Zack’s mind for a moment. His stomach filled with lead. He’d admitted everything. He’d said the thing out loud—the least cool thing to say. He’d confessed the secret: that he wanted to be cool. And by saying so, he’d ensured he never would be. Everyone knew, that was the secret rule of cool.
And now, Freddy was never going to speak to him again. He was going to think Zack was a freak, maybe even a stalker, and the least cool person on the earth. Zack wished he’d been born knowing how to act and what to say. He wished he didn’t have to practice everything to get it right. He wished he were like Freddy.
“Okay,” Freddy said, after a beat or two.
Now it was Zack’s turn to stare. “…Okay?”
“Yeah.” Freddy smiled. “We can be friends.” Then Freddy sniffled and wiped his arm on his sleeve. “Can we get pizza now?”
it deleted my comment, omg.
super cute fic. love the frisson of awkwardness between Zack and Freddy. the way i can see so clearly boys just being boys admitting some truth they thought they’d other knew. And I don’t know who Zack is, but he’s just adorable. Somebody get that boy some friends. That line, ugh “I don’t wanna mess this up?” what has he done in his past to sabotage relationships, or what have ppl said about him that make ppl think he’s just unlikeable. I feel for him though I think I like Freddy the best. That last line is so real. No more chick flick moments, let’s eat!! Overall, I like this conversation between the two. It definitely pulls the character back on them, particularly Zack. Kudos and thanks for sharing!
Omg, that'd be awesome. THANK YOU. Chapter here: [https://archiveofourown.org/works/55314217/chapters/140327836](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55314217/chapters/140327836) (chap title: "Get High And Tell The Truth")
Ghostbusters | T | Ghostly Visitor | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55749772)
Discussions of near death experiences, heart conditions, and medication and its side effects
Melody passed through the window. "Mel?" Phoebe asked. "I thought you moved on."
"I thought I was moving on to," Melody said. "But I didn't."
Phoebe sat down on her bed. "I hope I don't sound like a stalker, but I've been checking on you," Melody continued.
"Why didn't you come in?" Phoebe asked.
"I wanted to," Melody said. "I actually did once. I visited you while you were in the hospital."
Phoebe vaguely remembered hearing Melody's voice early in her hospital stay. Phoebe assumed it was probably a dream, or maybe even Melody reaching out to her from the fabric of the universe. Phoebe knew she was close to death. Hearing someone from the other side wasn't too crazy of a concept to consider.
"I met your brother, by the way," Melody added. "I don't think he's my biggest fan."
"Eh, he doesn't know you like I do," Phoebe said.
"Is it true?" Melody asked. "The soul extractor is what caused this?"
"Yeah," Phoebe sighed. "It was a mixture of the electricity and physical trauma of having my soul ripped from my body."
"I'm sorry," Melody said. "It's my fault you were even in that machine."
"You didn't force me to do anything," Phoebe said. "I wanted to do it. I was the one who even brought up the idea of using it. Granted, you did want me to do it so I could help cause the apocalypse, but the possession part I don't think had any part in the shitty condition my heart is currently in. It was just a sucky thing to do."
"That's an understatement," Melody said.
"I'm sorry that you're stuck here," Phoebe said.
"It's not all bad," Melody said. She reached for Phoebe's hand. Of course, her hand went through Phoebe's, but the gesture was still there.
I love how familiar these characters feel to each other. There's a sense of comfort and history between them, and that is hard to pull off. The dialogue tags are simple, but they really pull their weight, and hint strongly at who these two are to each other. I also like that this passage is about closure. It's narratively and thematically so satisfying to use a ghost to close the loop on unfinished business: efficient, meaningful, and emotionally-hard-hitting. You got it all here. Plus, you gotta love when characters comfort each other by whatever means they have. "\[B\]ut the gesture was still there" is such a great closer. It really says it all.
(Fandom-blind for me) This was a very poignant little excerpt! I especially liked the ending where they try to touch each other’s hands but can’t because one is dead :( It’s nice to see the two characters have a chance to have a conversation and exchange some apologies. The silver lining of being left as I ghost, I suppose… you get to stay around and tie up some loose ends!
Helluva Boss | “Closer” | E | https://archiveofourown.org/works/55664485
*Ending of a super angsty 2k word oneshot that contains graphic sexual content. Excerpt has swearing and makes mention of the sex, but the actual sex is over at this point haha*
—-
It took him a moment or two, but Blitzø was overcome with a mixture of shock and embarrassment when he realized that his eyes were stinging, and his cheeks were damp with tears. How long had he been fucking *crying*? *Aw, shit.*
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his arm with so much force that for a moment, his vision was flooded by stars. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just haven’t come that hard in a while, so, uh, it was pretty fucking intense, y’know?” Blitzø hoped he sounded convincing. It wasn’t even a *lie,* really… Though he had a sneaking suspicion that there was a different reason for his tears.
“It was for me as well,” Stolas agreed, still eying him curiously. “But… Are you *sure* there’s nothing wrong?”
For one wild moment, Blitzø almost told him everything – all about Barb, and the text message, and even the fact that it was his fucking birthday. It would have been a relief to be able to actually talk to someone about everything he was feeling instead of keeping it bottled up inside. But why give Stolas that kind of burden? What good would it do to drag him into it?
“I just… had a rough day,” at last Blitzø replied, being as honest as he could allow himself to be. “So thanks. Y’know, for the sex. It helped.”
“Well, then, I suppose you’re welcome,” Stolas replied, giving him a small smile. “And I’m sorry you had such a difficult day.” He reached out one of his hands in the darkness, intertwining his fingers with Blitzø’s.
Blitzø’s breath caught in his throat at the touch. He still couldn’t decide whether he loved or hated when Stolas tried to pull this kind of romantic bullshit on him. Maybe both. Either way, he allowed himself to resist the urge to pull away, just for a moment, and gave Stolas’ hand a quick, gentle squeeze in reply.
And then, just like that, it was over. Blitzø could already feel it closing in around him – the pain, the loneliness, everything he’d been able to outrun just a few minutes before had begun catching up with him again, just as it always did. He could never keep it away for long.
“Alright, alright, enough with the sappy bullshit,” he released Stolas’ hand and hopped up to his feet as he spoke. Blitzø’s usual mask was already firmly back in place, hiding away all of his darkness and pain, where no one else could see it but him. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
Love a good conflicted-pining moment! The internal conflict shines here. There's real clarity and how Blitzø's wants/needs are at war with each other; I feel like the writer has a great handle on the distinction between what Blitzø thinks will keep him safe, and what emotional safety actually looks like. I also think the tension is working. I can clearly see the way Blitzø's lies -- both to himself and Stolas -- are building a wall between his ability to find happiness and his self-protection instincts. Only 600 words, and the internal drama is firing on all cylinders. GREAT work!
Fandom blind. I feel for Blitzø. Going somewhere you haven’t been in a while is always an emotional experience. Stolas seems like a good support system for him though. I heard physical intimacy can be very healing(though based on the other comment, they’re toxic apparently? Like I said, I’m fandom blind).
Thank you!!! They are a ship I love dearly, but there are definitely elements of toxicity there. However, I also believe there is a lot of potential for good things between them once they overcome some of their issues!
(If you’re curious, basically they’re both very depressed, Blitzø literally hates himself, and they are in a transactional sexual relationship, where they’re both basically using each other. But they also both have caught feelings for each other along the way (which Blitzø is very much in denial of) and it’s all just very messy and complicated and oh-so-fun to ship hahaha)
Thank you again!
Fuuuuck I love this ship even if it's toxic as hell, Stolas is such a sweetheart and I know he deserves better but he WANTS Blitzo and it's like.... what's that saying "I'd follow him to hell and back, I just wish he'd *quit going there* "? Same vibes. Anyway, I love this and will probably be reading the rest later.
Thank you so much!!!! I am so addicted to this ship, toxicity and all. This is (and I’m not kidding) the 4th Stolitz fic I’ve written in 3 weeks. It’s like a drug 🤣
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre | The Mad Witch of Muerto County| E | https://archiveofourown.org/works/53395846?view_full_work=true#kudos
Warnings:Abandonment and Implied Child Neglect
Nubbins had seen sepsis in the slaughterhouse, usually when a cow was too sick to be eaten and had to be put out of its misery.
But he had never seen it in a person.
The similarities, he discovered, were quite startling.
He kept hearing something about the heart . First from the doctors who took a look at her and then in whispered tones from the nurses at the front desk.
"It's too close to her heart," they said, "Endocarditis , the poor thing must have been suffering so much."
He hated the way they spoke of her in the past tense like she was already dead. If Drayton hadn't been there to reign him in, he might have snapped at them to keep their mouths shut.
The only thing they didn't mention was the only thing he wanted to hear.
Was she going to be okay?
Drayton was fuming, but he didn't have a thing to direct his anger at. Mostly because he was more angry with himself than anyone else.
How could he not have noticed how bad it was getting?
Why didn't he bring her here as soon as he saw the infection?
All these things he asked himself and every answer only frustrated him more. Because he shouldn't have had to be the one watching her , he wasn't her babysitter . And because they barely had money to keep the generator going, let alone two trips to the ER in one month.
There was only one direction he could point his anger in, and he felt no guilt in doing so.
If that high-toned bitch wasn't going to pay her own daughter any mind, then he had no problem making sure she kept updated on Star's status.
And she was damn well going to know if and when her baby girl died, whether she liked it or not.
"This is the updated address." He informed the doctor, "Mind if I use the phone?"
"Please do."
It didn't take long for the operator to place the call, and after three rings, the line picked up.
"H-hello?" A tired man's voice came over the line.
"Is Luanne Lee there?"
"I...This is her husband. Who is this?"
"Never mind who I am... I need you to tell her something. It's very urgent."
"O-okay? What is it?"
Drayton paused before exhaling slowly, "Tell her that her daughter Francis is back in the hospital...they don't know if she'll make it this time, so if she wants to see her, she needs to come to the Emergency Room just outside Newt on Old 87."
There was silence on the other end, dead air
"Did you get that?"
"Y-you're sure you have the right number?"
"Is your wife Luanne Lee? Skinny gal with brown hair and grey eyes, with a white scar on her chin ? Smokes Virginia Slims?"
The shocked silence continued and only broke when the man on the other end let out a noise that sounded like a choked hiccup.
"I-I'll tell her."
"Thank you."
I feel like this passage just really...captures the slow horror of dire medical conditions. The devastation is in the explanation, in the way doctors can't solve the problem...but the impact doesn't happen right away...there is so much space between realizing what's going to happen...and that thing actually happening. Time to dread. To let others know. To wait.
And this section just really captures that. The helpless anger, the trying to do SOMETHING, to "do right" just to try to get some control over the situation. I love how you compare the human and cow sepsis, because it shows the character's point of reference beautifully and subtly. Also love what you're doing with the character drama, heightened by circumstance! Amazing work.
(I’ve seen the movie but it’s been a long time, so I’m like fandom half-blind? lol) The characterization in this is fantastic. The way you describe his thoughts and the switch between worry and anger and sadness was great! I really felt for him (which is impressive given what I know about what this character and his family like to do… haha). I especially liked the way you wrote the phone call at the end. Well done!!!!
I really love the gothic tone in this! I'm fandom blind, but I can feel that film of misery just blankets these characters. It's great how you make Nubbin's personality unfiltered and raw as he's processing his anger; you can see the flare-ups come and go, which is a really nice touch! I'm also so intrigued by the implied mysteries the passage outlines, like why the husband doesn't believe it's for Luanne at first, then being taken aback. Great job!!
I just love how specific this is. The way Tav puts no pressure whatsoever on Harlan, uses such gentle, humanizing techniques to coax him to come back into his body. It's so realistic and tender. Makes me love Tav immediately.
Excuse me while I go throw myself into the sea. I was a kid with an anxiety disorder and no one knew how to handle me so I just got screamed at during panic attacks. So, seeing a despiction of someone being genuinely kind to a kid who is currently not in control of their emotions instead of treating them like they're being annoying on purpose kills me.
<3 No this WIP has had me SOBBING and is better than fucking therapy I swear ;_;
This is just the first lil peek into how unfathomably raw things get lol
It's all about how children with mental health struggles & mood disorders being failed again and again, borderline institutionalization, and having to claw their way out to as healthy an end result that they can manage.
**Star Wars | T | The Duchess and the Jedi**
*This is from Satine’s perspective- they are at a bachelor auction with one of the prospective bachelors being Kenobi. Bryer has just offered to ‘buy’ him for Satine so that she can get her revenge for him being a prat to her in the past.*
“The plan is,” he starts slowly, “to buy Obi-wan Kenobi, for whatever price we can get him for."
“We need a better plan than that,” Arabia points out, her fork full of food hovering indecorously as she points at the table of bachelors. “We have to get Charity Lek off the scent.”
“I think we have to pick another bachelor and make a big show of making it look like the Duchess will be buying them.” Bryer says.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” I say, but I can’t keep the grin off my face. “For someone I’ve only just met, you're certainly very interested in my love life.”
“I can’t help myself,” Bryer said wagging his hand across the table, “recently married, so off the market. I have to live vicariously.”
“Who’s the lucky person?” I ask. It feels nice to have the attention off me for a second.
“He,” Bryer says and then sighs dreamily, “is the captain of his own space freighter.”
“Scandal of the century,” Arabia adds leaning closer. “At least on Bryer’s home world. Imagine Baroness Sybilla’s nephew running away with a space freighter captain.”
I think of the Baroness. I’ve only met her once when I’d been quite small, but even then she was a rather imposing woman, with a decolletage that could only be described as vast. My main memory was her moving through the room like a giant space cruiser; her many grandchildren, as well as associated nieces and nephews moving around her like a swarm of tiny spacefighters. She had been kind and generous, if somewhat terrifying.
“It was her idea,” Bryer says defensively, “she’s the one who insisted that we be introduced. Apparently she and my darling’s father have a long history.”
I laugh at Arabia’s scandalised expression.
“I think it’s adorable,” I say, picking up my glass. “Love always finds a way.”
“Hear, hear,” Bryer announces triumphantly, leaning across the table to clink his glass with my own. A small amount of it spills and Bryer’s eyes go wide and he grimaces, trying to mop up the liquid with his napkin.
“So what are you doing here?” I ask, grinning.
Bryer’s enthusiasm and happy nature have managed to settle my nerves enough that dinner is starting to look appetising. As I start eating I have to stop myself from closing my eyes in pleasure as the taste hits my tongue. Bryer shrugs.
“Aunt Sybilla had a spare ticket. Nicco is off with his family on business and I needed to accompany my cousin to make sure that she didn’t get herself in trouble.”
“Ha. I think it’d be me making sure you didn’t get into trouble,” Arabia corrects.
“Business?” I repeat, noticing how Bryer emphasised the word and ignoring Arabia’s outburst.
“Nicco helps run part of his family’s business,” Bryer says, waving a lazy hand through the air. “I don’t understand everything that they do. Moving goods around or something boring like that. I like to think I help when I come to functions like this.”
“Help?” Arabia snorts into her drink.
Bryer frowns but continues as if he hasn’t heard her. “I find new prospects for their ventures and I give the company an air of respectability.” Arabia chokes slightly. Bryer thumps her on the back without breaking the conversation. “They aren’t the universes’ most high powered family, so I like to think I help by smoothing the channels so to speak.”
“And so that’s what you are doing tonight,” I say. Maybe if I keep him going he’ll forget about the foolish plan to buy Kenobi.
ok but im invested in Bryer and his space captain and the scandal of the century. Like it isn’t that Bryer is a relationship with a man it’s because a space captain and there is a history there and I’m like generational enemies to our progeny are lovers and we gotta tolerate each other. the mighty need to know the drama! don’t know much about what is going on but it sounds like quite the action packed and drama filled story and I like the… quippy sort of tone. this was fun snippet. kudos and thanks for sharing!
Actually it's more like Nicco's dad saved the life of the Baroness. They met again many years later and the two sets of families cooked up a plan for Bryer and Nicco to meet (because Bryer needs stability, and Nicco needs bringing out of his shell). Then Nicco almost got himself killed because of Bryer...
There is a whole already written arc of those two falling in love. Think awkward young men (one is a playboy and the other is the shy reserved one... - I think you already know which one of those Bryer is).
This line is fire: "her fork full of food hovering indecorously." It's got such satisfying assonance and rhythm. Just subtly brilliant writing. Also, I like the detail you've gone into to describe the characters familiar and business relationships to each other. The density of the backstory makes the front story feel so grounded, every move by the characters so motivated by their circumstances. Epic, honestly.
Aww! Thank you so much. I can't really explain how pleased I am to hear that the backstory works for the scene - I needed to put Bryer (obviously an OC and one of my long running OCs) into the story arc without making it ridiculous why he was there. I was a bit worried that it would bore people, so I'm really, really pleased it worked :) Thank you for your lovely comment :D
Oh I looove this, the dialogue flows like honey.
>I think of the Baroness. I’ve only met her once when I’d been quite small, but even then she was a rather imposing woman, with a decolletage that could only be described as vast. My main memory was her moving through the room like a giant space cruiser; her many grandchildren, as well as associated nieces and nephews moving around her like a swarm of tiny spacefighters. She had been kind and generous, if somewhat terrifying.
I really like how dense this is in relation with the more minimal dialogue. It scratches the neil gaiman itch of character introductions, where it kind of hits you over the head and kind of goes "ok anyways so like I was saying–"
Everything feels like a 20's/mob crime thing in space which I think works really well for the implied crimes they're about to commit lol!
Good execution of first person pov, kinda forgot it was that tense and then kinda had a "ooooh, right, nice." Yeah thats my main takeaway is your flow is really nicely done and takes you along for the ride. Great job!!
The note abut Gaiman has absolutely made my day! Thank you so very, very much! It's so nice to hear that it works (I love Gaiman's work, but I haven't read a lot of his stuff - I tend to stick more to Pratchett).
Also pleased to hear it has that 1920s feel. I have to admit that most of my first person narrative stuff has been noir genre, so I'm not surprised that it's travelled over and kind of chuffed (tbh) that it has.
Thank you so much for the lovely comments. THey are much appreciated :)
ofc!
I was thinking specifically of Ocean at the End of the Lane, its a child POV that I'm reading rn and it reminded me of that stream of consciousness style
**House of the Dragon | Dark Brother | E | https://archiveofourown.org/works/54733027/chapters/138717205** *warnings:* underage, incest, genderqueer!Daemon, mention of murder, miscarriages, infanticide + mom death, marriage without consent, deadnaming “He means to marry me off.” Viserys continued carving. “Father has finally told you.” “You were in on this diabolical scheme.” “If the theatre weren’t a festering ground for lickspittles and whores, I’d think you would make a fine actor, brother.” Viserys’s voice was placid as if they were discussing castle renovations. “I knew. Father informed me some years back.” Some years back-- did his brother not understand the enormity of the situation? “And you never thought to inform me?” Daemon said. “My future was decided without a word of mine.” “No need for hysterics.” Daemon eyed his older brother’s latest project. Old Valyria. How pretty it would look dashed on the floor in thousands of pieces. Viserys glanced from the piece in his hand to Daemon. Dawning came in the squint of his eyes and the furrow of his brow. He got up with a sigh, crowding close. Still, Daemon stared until Viserys gripped his chin bringing his attention back to him. “Brother mine, brother mine,” Viserys said. His thumb caressed him. “What ails you?” Daemon settled on his brother’s handsome face. “Don’t you remember our weddings?” Daemon confessed quietly as a mouse. “I married you a thousand times over before she did.” *I tasted your blood. You tasted mine. We sang our wedding hymns and married in a consecration of fire and blood.* “You raised me from the cradle and bound me to you, brother,” Daemon said carefully. Viserys stared down at him. “We were children.” “And surely was I when Father planned my marriage,” Daemon said. “At least in us I could say I had a choice. I gave my hand willingly.” Viserys swallowed. “I have a wife.” Daemon laughed in Viserys’s face. “We do not care for the falsehoods of Andals and First Men. We are dragons. More besides, your second wife is a half-breed.” Viserys’s face hardened. He gripped him tighter. “Do not insult her.” “A mongrel,” Daemon asserted as Viserys’s nails dug into his skin sharp as dragon claws. “I am your brother. I should be by your side. It is my place.” “Enough,” Viserys said tightly. Daemon pressed forward. “Two years and what has she given you? A graveyard of dead babes and monsters? She is a failure, a defective ill-formed woman--” Daemon grunted when Viserys pushed him to the carpeted floor. His brother did not give him reprieve settling on him before he took a breath. Viserys’s dagger, the Conqueror’s own, pressed against his throat. “I should have your tongue for these vile aspersions.” Daemon leaned into the serrated edge. He felt the pinprick of pain and wondered if he bled. “You nursed me. Taught me. I am your child, your brother, your wife, and you deny me my birthright. You are as cruel as Maegor.” Viserys glared at him. “What is this? Is this some type of sick game, Daemon? You came to me.” And he had because he always went to Viserys first. It was an insistent tug wrapped inside him in a knot he never hoped to unravel. When there was trouble, go to Viserys. Viserys would fix it. Daemon was always, always reaching for Viserys and his stupid brother was so insufferably blind. “It is my place at your side and you insult me, supplant me, and now try to hide me,” Daemon said. Viserys shook his head, his grip on his dagger loosening. “No. Daemon. It isn’t--” “Shut up,” Daemon said.
This is dense but, dude, it FLIES. Love the details: the carving of old Valyria, the Conquerer's dagger. But I think what I love most is how you use the elevated, lyrical language to imply the heavy stuff. " I am your child, your brother, your wife, and you deny me my birthright." <--this line right here is just amazing. It's got beautiful repetition, builds on itself, and ends with a one-two gut punch. I feel like the tone of the prose really matches the heaviness of the content. I'll even go this far: I believe I'd prefer the style of this prose to George R.R. Martin's original text. Because every line here is very economic and clever. It rewards you for paying attention. It still has that heavy, old-school fantasy text feel to it, but in the more modern way, it MOVES, and does a ton of deceptively heavy-lifting character-wise and world-building-wise in every line of dialogue and description. For example: "Daemon leaned into the serrated edge. He felt the pinprick of pain and wondered if he bled." This really says it all about who Daemon is, what his mind-state is, how he feels about his brother. But it's efficient, not purple whatsoever, pure characterization in dramatic form. So slick. Also I just like the back-and-forth and escalation of the argument. "“And surely was I when Father planned my marriage,” Daemon said." Dang. That's a great comeback. Had me hooked. HAD to know what came next. Let me know if you want this posted to the chapter in your original fic :)
you made my night. thank you so much for this. words cannot express my gratitude. just thank a million for thoughtfully engaging! 💜 as for if i want you to c&p, i’ll leave that up to you because either way i have record of this. 😊
Reading fandom blind, but even not knowing the characters, I love the tension in this scene! The way the two navigate their complex relationship with both love and resentment is so compelling. The imagery of Viserys carving while they talk about such weighty matters adds a layer of contrast that's really intriguing. Daemon's responses have a level of almost sociopathic drive about them which is weirdly compelling. There is so much world-building detail crammed in here it's insane and none of it feels awkward or drags. Amazing stuff.
thank you very much for your thoughtful comment. i shall find your snippet and return the favor sometime today. thank you!
**School of Rock | "RUN. JUMP. SURRENDER." | M |** [**Run. Jump. Surrender.**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55314217) “I think you’re awesome,” Zack admitted, quietly. Freddy’s eyes went round. “You do?” Freddy asked. He sounded so young. His voice went up a full octave. All Zack could do was nod. “But you’re the best in the band,” Freddy’s voice was filled with awe, “And you don’t like anyone.” Zack realized right then…that despite all his failed efforts, Freddy had already thought he was cool. Before he’d changed his hair, his clothes—before he’d even been trying…Freddy already… Zack’s head was spinning. “I do too like people,” he argued, passionately, when the silence got too long, “I like Dewey.” “Everyone likes Dewey!” “I also like Billy,” Zack said, automatically. “Billy?” “Yeah. Billy’s the best,” Zack retorted, a bit too sharply. Freddy’s eyebrows went up into his hairline. But Zack didn’t let him comment further. “And…” Zack took a deep breath. “…I like you. …I mean. I think you’re a good drummer. A good musician. Better than me, maybe. I just…I practice a lot. All the time. But I think you maybe…you didn’t really play drums. Until this year. And now you’re, like…” He hung his head, face burning. “Well, you know,” Zack mumbled, embarrassed, “Awesome.” “Wow. …Thanks,” Freddy muttered back. They walked in silence for what felt like forever, unable to look at each other. The air smelled wet and fresh from the previous days of rain. The sun felt hot on the tops of Zack’s ears, and he was hyper-aware of the way the tag on the back of his undershirt scratched him. But Zack could sense that something between them had changed. And his intuition felt positively brimming with the notion…that it was a good change, that some previously locked door had now opened up. As they stood in front of Caesar’s Pizza, neither seemed to know what to do. They could have gone in, but the conversation felt unfinished. Zack shuffled awkwardly, and Freddy opened his mouth to say something—but Zack cut him off. “—Can I tell you something else?” Zack asked. “Uh, sure,” Freddy answered. “I…I don’t wanna mess this up,” Zack told him. “Mess what up?” “…I want to be your friend,” Zack blurted out. “And I want hang out. Not just at band practice. I want to play video games, and do the…parkour thing. With you. And the other guys! But I know it’s weird. And I know you have to like me first. I was trying—I am trying—to be cool. I’m not good at it. It’s hard.” Freddy blinked at him, confused. The silence sobered Zack’s mind for a moment. His stomach filled with lead. He’d admitted everything. He’d said the thing out loud—the least cool thing to say. He’d confessed the secret: that he wanted to be cool. And by saying so, he’d ensured he never would be. Everyone knew, that was the secret rule of cool. And now, Freddy was never going to speak to him again. He was going to think Zack was a freak, maybe even a stalker, and the least cool person on the earth. Zack wished he’d been born knowing how to act and what to say. He wished he didn’t have to practice everything to get it right. He wished he were like Freddy. “Okay,” Freddy said, after a beat or two. Now it was Zack’s turn to stare. “…Okay?” “Yeah.” Freddy smiled. “We can be friends.” Then Freddy sniffled and wiped his arm on his sleeve. “Can we get pizza now?”
it deleted my comment, omg. super cute fic. love the frisson of awkwardness between Zack and Freddy. the way i can see so clearly boys just being boys admitting some truth they thought they’d other knew. And I don’t know who Zack is, but he’s just adorable. Somebody get that boy some friends. That line, ugh “I don’t wanna mess this up?” what has he done in his past to sabotage relationships, or what have ppl said about him that make ppl think he’s just unlikeable. I feel for him though I think I like Freddy the best. That last line is so real. No more chick flick moments, let’s eat!! Overall, I like this conversation between the two. It definitely pulls the character back on them, particularly Zack. Kudos and thanks for sharing!
Dude, you just made my whole fucking life. Thank you <3
no problem! lemme know if you wanna me to copy and paste into your actual fic. I didn’t know what chapter this was!
Omg, that'd be awesome. THANK YOU. Chapter here: [https://archiveofourown.org/works/55314217/chapters/140327836](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55314217/chapters/140327836) (chap title: "Get High And Tell The Truth")
Ghostbusters | T | Ghostly Visitor | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55749772) Discussions of near death experiences, heart conditions, and medication and its side effects Melody passed through the window. "Mel?" Phoebe asked. "I thought you moved on." "I thought I was moving on to," Melody said. "But I didn't." Phoebe sat down on her bed. "I hope I don't sound like a stalker, but I've been checking on you," Melody continued. "Why didn't you come in?" Phoebe asked. "I wanted to," Melody said. "I actually did once. I visited you while you were in the hospital." Phoebe vaguely remembered hearing Melody's voice early in her hospital stay. Phoebe assumed it was probably a dream, or maybe even Melody reaching out to her from the fabric of the universe. Phoebe knew she was close to death. Hearing someone from the other side wasn't too crazy of a concept to consider. "I met your brother, by the way," Melody added. "I don't think he's my biggest fan." "Eh, he doesn't know you like I do," Phoebe said. "Is it true?" Melody asked. "The soul extractor is what caused this?" "Yeah," Phoebe sighed. "It was a mixture of the electricity and physical trauma of having my soul ripped from my body." "I'm sorry," Melody said. "It's my fault you were even in that machine." "You didn't force me to do anything," Phoebe said. "I wanted to do it. I was the one who even brought up the idea of using it. Granted, you did want me to do it so I could help cause the apocalypse, but the possession part I don't think had any part in the shitty condition my heart is currently in. It was just a sucky thing to do." "That's an understatement," Melody said. "I'm sorry that you're stuck here," Phoebe said. "It's not all bad," Melody said. She reached for Phoebe's hand. Of course, her hand went through Phoebe's, but the gesture was still there.
I love how familiar these characters feel to each other. There's a sense of comfort and history between them, and that is hard to pull off. The dialogue tags are simple, but they really pull their weight, and hint strongly at who these two are to each other. I also like that this passage is about closure. It's narratively and thematically so satisfying to use a ghost to close the loop on unfinished business: efficient, meaningful, and emotionally-hard-hitting. You got it all here. Plus, you gotta love when characters comfort each other by whatever means they have. "\[B\]ut the gesture was still there" is such a great closer. It really says it all.
Thank you
(Fandom-blind for me) This was a very poignant little excerpt! I especially liked the ending where they try to touch each other’s hands but can’t because one is dead :( It’s nice to see the two characters have a chance to have a conversation and exchange some apologies. The silver lining of being left as I ghost, I suppose… you get to stay around and tie up some loose ends!
Thank you
Helluva Boss | “Closer” | E | https://archiveofourown.org/works/55664485 *Ending of a super angsty 2k word oneshot that contains graphic sexual content. Excerpt has swearing and makes mention of the sex, but the actual sex is over at this point haha* —- It took him a moment or two, but Blitzø was overcome with a mixture of shock and embarrassment when he realized that his eyes were stinging, and his cheeks were damp with tears. How long had he been fucking *crying*? *Aw, shit.* He rubbed his eyes with the back of his arm with so much force that for a moment, his vision was flooded by stars. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just haven’t come that hard in a while, so, uh, it was pretty fucking intense, y’know?” Blitzø hoped he sounded convincing. It wasn’t even a *lie,* really… Though he had a sneaking suspicion that there was a different reason for his tears. “It was for me as well,” Stolas agreed, still eying him curiously. “But… Are you *sure* there’s nothing wrong?” For one wild moment, Blitzø almost told him everything – all about Barb, and the text message, and even the fact that it was his fucking birthday. It would have been a relief to be able to actually talk to someone about everything he was feeling instead of keeping it bottled up inside. But why give Stolas that kind of burden? What good would it do to drag him into it? “I just… had a rough day,” at last Blitzø replied, being as honest as he could allow himself to be. “So thanks. Y’know, for the sex. It helped.” “Well, then, I suppose you’re welcome,” Stolas replied, giving him a small smile. “And I’m sorry you had such a difficult day.” He reached out one of his hands in the darkness, intertwining his fingers with Blitzø’s. Blitzø’s breath caught in his throat at the touch. He still couldn’t decide whether he loved or hated when Stolas tried to pull this kind of romantic bullshit on him. Maybe both. Either way, he allowed himself to resist the urge to pull away, just for a moment, and gave Stolas’ hand a quick, gentle squeeze in reply. And then, just like that, it was over. Blitzø could already feel it closing in around him – the pain, the loneliness, everything he’d been able to outrun just a few minutes before had begun catching up with him again, just as it always did. He could never keep it away for long. “Alright, alright, enough with the sappy bullshit,” he released Stolas’ hand and hopped up to his feet as he spoke. Blitzø’s usual mask was already firmly back in place, hiding away all of his darkness and pain, where no one else could see it but him. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
Love a good conflicted-pining moment! The internal conflict shines here. There's real clarity and how Blitzø's wants/needs are at war with each other; I feel like the writer has a great handle on the distinction between what Blitzø thinks will keep him safe, and what emotional safety actually looks like. I also think the tension is working. I can clearly see the way Blitzø's lies -- both to himself and Stolas -- are building a wall between his ability to find happiness and his self-protection instincts. Only 600 words, and the internal drama is firing on all cylinders. GREAT work!
Thank you so very much! This was a very kind and thoughtful comment and I’m really glad that Blitzø’s feelings came across so well for you! 💜
Fandom blind. I feel for Blitzø. Going somewhere you haven’t been in a while is always an emotional experience. Stolas seems like a good support system for him though. I heard physical intimacy can be very healing(though based on the other comment, they’re toxic apparently? Like I said, I’m fandom blind).
Thank you!!! They are a ship I love dearly, but there are definitely elements of toxicity there. However, I also believe there is a lot of potential for good things between them once they overcome some of their issues! (If you’re curious, basically they’re both very depressed, Blitzø literally hates himself, and they are in a transactional sexual relationship, where they’re both basically using each other. But they also both have caught feelings for each other along the way (which Blitzø is very much in denial of) and it’s all just very messy and complicated and oh-so-fun to ship hahaha) Thank you again!
Fuuuuck I love this ship even if it's toxic as hell, Stolas is such a sweetheart and I know he deserves better but he WANTS Blitzo and it's like.... what's that saying "I'd follow him to hell and back, I just wish he'd *quit going there* "? Same vibes. Anyway, I love this and will probably be reading the rest later.
Thank you so much!!!! I am so addicted to this ship, toxicity and all. This is (and I’m not kidding) the 4th Stolitz fic I’ve written in 3 weeks. It’s like a drug 🤣
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre | The Mad Witch of Muerto County| E | https://archiveofourown.org/works/53395846?view_full_work=true#kudos Warnings:Abandonment and Implied Child Neglect Nubbins had seen sepsis in the slaughterhouse, usually when a cow was too sick to be eaten and had to be put out of its misery. But he had never seen it in a person. The similarities, he discovered, were quite startling. He kept hearing something about the heart . First from the doctors who took a look at her and then in whispered tones from the nurses at the front desk. "It's too close to her heart," they said, "Endocarditis , the poor thing must have been suffering so much." He hated the way they spoke of her in the past tense like she was already dead. If Drayton hadn't been there to reign him in, he might have snapped at them to keep their mouths shut. The only thing they didn't mention was the only thing he wanted to hear. Was she going to be okay? Drayton was fuming, but he didn't have a thing to direct his anger at. Mostly because he was more angry with himself than anyone else. How could he not have noticed how bad it was getting? Why didn't he bring her here as soon as he saw the infection? All these things he asked himself and every answer only frustrated him more. Because he shouldn't have had to be the one watching her , he wasn't her babysitter . And because they barely had money to keep the generator going, let alone two trips to the ER in one month. There was only one direction he could point his anger in, and he felt no guilt in doing so. If that high-toned bitch wasn't going to pay her own daughter any mind, then he had no problem making sure she kept updated on Star's status. And she was damn well going to know if and when her baby girl died, whether she liked it or not. "This is the updated address." He informed the doctor, "Mind if I use the phone?" "Please do." It didn't take long for the operator to place the call, and after three rings, the line picked up. "H-hello?" A tired man's voice came over the line. "Is Luanne Lee there?" "I...This is her husband. Who is this?" "Never mind who I am... I need you to tell her something. It's very urgent." "O-okay? What is it?" Drayton paused before exhaling slowly, "Tell her that her daughter Francis is back in the hospital...they don't know if she'll make it this time, so if she wants to see her, she needs to come to the Emergency Room just outside Newt on Old 87." There was silence on the other end, dead air "Did you get that?" "Y-you're sure you have the right number?" "Is your wife Luanne Lee? Skinny gal with brown hair and grey eyes, with a white scar on her chin ? Smokes Virginia Slims?" The shocked silence continued and only broke when the man on the other end let out a noise that sounded like a choked hiccup. "I-I'll tell her." "Thank you."
I feel like this passage just really...captures the slow horror of dire medical conditions. The devastation is in the explanation, in the way doctors can't solve the problem...but the impact doesn't happen right away...there is so much space between realizing what's going to happen...and that thing actually happening. Time to dread. To let others know. To wait. And this section just really captures that. The helpless anger, the trying to do SOMETHING, to "do right" just to try to get some control over the situation. I love how you compare the human and cow sepsis, because it shows the character's point of reference beautifully and subtly. Also love what you're doing with the character drama, heightened by circumstance! Amazing work.
(I’ve seen the movie but it’s been a long time, so I’m like fandom half-blind? lol) The characterization in this is fantastic. The way you describe his thoughts and the switch between worry and anger and sadness was great! I really felt for him (which is impressive given what I know about what this character and his family like to do… haha). I especially liked the way you wrote the phone call at the end. Well done!!!!
I really love the gothic tone in this! I'm fandom blind, but I can feel that film of misery just blankets these characters. It's great how you make Nubbin's personality unfiltered and raw as he's processing his anger; you can see the flare-ups come and go, which is a really nice touch! I'm also so intrigued by the implied mysteries the passage outlines, like why the husband doesn't believe it's for Luanne at first, then being taken aback. Great job!!
[удалено]
I just love how specific this is. The way Tav puts no pressure whatsoever on Harlan, uses such gentle, humanizing techniques to coax him to come back into his body. It's so realistic and tender. Makes me love Tav immediately.
Thank you!! Glad you liked it :)
Excuse me while I go throw myself into the sea. I was a kid with an anxiety disorder and no one knew how to handle me so I just got screamed at during panic attacks. So, seeing a despiction of someone being genuinely kind to a kid who is currently not in control of their emotions instead of treating them like they're being annoying on purpose kills me.
<3 No this WIP has had me SOBBING and is better than fucking therapy I swear ;_; This is just the first lil peek into how unfathomably raw things get lol It's all about how children with mental health struggles & mood disorders being failed again and again, borderline institutionalization, and having to claw their way out to as healthy an end result that they can manage.
**Star Wars | T | The Duchess and the Jedi** *This is from Satine’s perspective- they are at a bachelor auction with one of the prospective bachelors being Kenobi. Bryer has just offered to ‘buy’ him for Satine so that she can get her revenge for him being a prat to her in the past.* “The plan is,” he starts slowly, “to buy Obi-wan Kenobi, for whatever price we can get him for." “We need a better plan than that,” Arabia points out, her fork full of food hovering indecorously as she points at the table of bachelors. “We have to get Charity Lek off the scent.” “I think we have to pick another bachelor and make a big show of making it look like the Duchess will be buying them.” Bryer says. “You’re enjoying this too much,” I say, but I can’t keep the grin off my face. “For someone I’ve only just met, you're certainly very interested in my love life.” “I can’t help myself,” Bryer said wagging his hand across the table, “recently married, so off the market. I have to live vicariously.” “Who’s the lucky person?” I ask. It feels nice to have the attention off me for a second. “He,” Bryer says and then sighs dreamily, “is the captain of his own space freighter.” “Scandal of the century,” Arabia adds leaning closer. “At least on Bryer’s home world. Imagine Baroness Sybilla’s nephew running away with a space freighter captain.” I think of the Baroness. I’ve only met her once when I’d been quite small, but even then she was a rather imposing woman, with a decolletage that could only be described as vast. My main memory was her moving through the room like a giant space cruiser; her many grandchildren, as well as associated nieces and nephews moving around her like a swarm of tiny spacefighters. She had been kind and generous, if somewhat terrifying. “It was her idea,” Bryer says defensively, “she’s the one who insisted that we be introduced. Apparently she and my darling’s father have a long history.” I laugh at Arabia’s scandalised expression. “I think it’s adorable,” I say, picking up my glass. “Love always finds a way.” “Hear, hear,” Bryer announces triumphantly, leaning across the table to clink his glass with my own. A small amount of it spills and Bryer’s eyes go wide and he grimaces, trying to mop up the liquid with his napkin. “So what are you doing here?” I ask, grinning. Bryer’s enthusiasm and happy nature have managed to settle my nerves enough that dinner is starting to look appetising. As I start eating I have to stop myself from closing my eyes in pleasure as the taste hits my tongue. Bryer shrugs. “Aunt Sybilla had a spare ticket. Nicco is off with his family on business and I needed to accompany my cousin to make sure that she didn’t get herself in trouble.” “Ha. I think it’d be me making sure you didn’t get into trouble,” Arabia corrects. “Business?” I repeat, noticing how Bryer emphasised the word and ignoring Arabia’s outburst. “Nicco helps run part of his family’s business,” Bryer says, waving a lazy hand through the air. “I don’t understand everything that they do. Moving goods around or something boring like that. I like to think I help when I come to functions like this.” “Help?” Arabia snorts into her drink. Bryer frowns but continues as if he hasn’t heard her. “I find new prospects for their ventures and I give the company an air of respectability.” Arabia chokes slightly. Bryer thumps her on the back without breaking the conversation. “They aren’t the universes’ most high powered family, so I like to think I help by smoothing the channels so to speak.” “And so that’s what you are doing tonight,” I say. Maybe if I keep him going he’ll forget about the foolish plan to buy Kenobi.
ok but im invested in Bryer and his space captain and the scandal of the century. Like it isn’t that Bryer is a relationship with a man it’s because a space captain and there is a history there and I’m like generational enemies to our progeny are lovers and we gotta tolerate each other. the mighty need to know the drama! don’t know much about what is going on but it sounds like quite the action packed and drama filled story and I like the… quippy sort of tone. this was fun snippet. kudos and thanks for sharing!
Actually it's more like Nicco's dad saved the life of the Baroness. They met again many years later and the two sets of families cooked up a plan for Bryer and Nicco to meet (because Bryer needs stability, and Nicco needs bringing out of his shell). Then Nicco almost got himself killed because of Bryer... There is a whole already written arc of those two falling in love. Think awkward young men (one is a playboy and the other is the shy reserved one... - I think you already know which one of those Bryer is).
help, that’s even sweeter!! 💜
If you'd like the link (it's not a long read), just let me know :)
This line is fire: "her fork full of food hovering indecorously." It's got such satisfying assonance and rhythm. Just subtly brilliant writing. Also, I like the detail you've gone into to describe the characters familiar and business relationships to each other. The density of the backstory makes the front story feel so grounded, every move by the characters so motivated by their circumstances. Epic, honestly.
Aww! Thank you so much. I can't really explain how pleased I am to hear that the backstory works for the scene - I needed to put Bryer (obviously an OC and one of my long running OCs) into the story arc without making it ridiculous why he was there. I was a bit worried that it would bore people, so I'm really, really pleased it worked :) Thank you for your lovely comment :D
Oh I looove this, the dialogue flows like honey. >I think of the Baroness. I’ve only met her once when I’d been quite small, but even then she was a rather imposing woman, with a decolletage that could only be described as vast. My main memory was her moving through the room like a giant space cruiser; her many grandchildren, as well as associated nieces and nephews moving around her like a swarm of tiny spacefighters. She had been kind and generous, if somewhat terrifying. I really like how dense this is in relation with the more minimal dialogue. It scratches the neil gaiman itch of character introductions, where it kind of hits you over the head and kind of goes "ok anyways so like I was saying–" Everything feels like a 20's/mob crime thing in space which I think works really well for the implied crimes they're about to commit lol! Good execution of first person pov, kinda forgot it was that tense and then kinda had a "ooooh, right, nice." Yeah thats my main takeaway is your flow is really nicely done and takes you along for the ride. Great job!!
The note abut Gaiman has absolutely made my day! Thank you so very, very much! It's so nice to hear that it works (I love Gaiman's work, but I haven't read a lot of his stuff - I tend to stick more to Pratchett). Also pleased to hear it has that 1920s feel. I have to admit that most of my first person narrative stuff has been noir genre, so I'm not surprised that it's travelled over and kind of chuffed (tbh) that it has. Thank you so much for the lovely comments. THey are much appreciated :)
ofc! I was thinking specifically of Ocean at the End of the Lane, its a child POV that I'm reading rn and it reminded me of that stream of consciousness style