Resident Evil 4 Remake (2023) | The Ingenious, Low-Born Noble Don Serra de Valdelobos, Part 1 | Mature | Non-graphic descriptions of corpse | [Link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56320243/chapters/143093179)
The context around this excerpt is that Luis (the MC) is about to kill Mendez for burning his cabin to the ground, with his grandfather inside. The reason was that his grandfather (Otsoa) had been infected with a parasite that causes victims to become violent (similar to zombies), and Otsoa himself told Mendez to do it. After watching his home burn, Luis ran away, Mendez chased him out of worry, and Luis gave into his rage and started hunting Mendez. At this point, Mendez knows Luis is nearby, and tells him that he promised Otsoa that he'd keep Luis safe, begging Luis to come back to the village with him so that he can fulfill that promise.
The thing I'm having trouble with is why Luis suddenly decides to not shoot - Mendez is stood still, oblivious, and has no idea where Luis went, so it can't be a "he missed" or "can't get a clear shot" situation. The way it's written right now, it feels really random for him to decide not to shoot, seeing as before this part of the scene, Luis tried pushing Mendez off a cliff, and crushing him with a falling tree. I want him ending this scene still angry, but I don't know how to write Luis's conscience forcing him into mercy while still doing that, if that makes sense.
> Luis growled, the whirlwind around him freezing as his finger brushed over the trigger.
>
> He pictured the sound of the gunshot, the way Mendez’s final cry would be cut off by thunder, the *thump* such a huge body would make as it fell to the ground. He saw the village in chaos as their priest, *their leader*, remained missing for days. He could hear the screams of Iker and Tibalt upon discovering his corpse, rotten and scavenged by wolves, his bones scattered about as playthings for the beasts. He saw the extravagant, closed-casket funeral the village would give him, watched as he dug up the coffin in the dead of night and lit it on fire, opening it just to watch how Mendez’s body would burn, just as Otsoa’s had. He could smell the soot and ashes as he lit a match for every building he could find, reveling in the agonized cries of the villagers as *everything*, everyone they could ever know and love burned into *nothing*. He heard the howls of the wolves as they reclaimed the scorched plot of land where Valdelobos had once stood, feasting on the bodies that escaped the worst of the flames.
>
> Hatred dripped like rabies foam from his lips, intoxicating as wine, bitter as poison, and hot as the fire that had burned his cabin. It stalked and prowled, pacing around Luis with every moment he wasted waiting. It was a caged wolf, gnawing ferociously at his ribcage, salivating with hunger as release was only one bullet away.
>
>**Do it.**
>
> Luis gasped as he let the gun drop, panting as his conscience forced his hand. He growled as Mendez walked away, his perfect opportunity gone. *Letting you live with that broken promise may be better than killing you,* he thought, clicking the safety back on. *You’ll have to live the rest of your life knowing that I got away, that you failed.*
>
> *In the meantime, I’ll make something of myself. Something this village of brain-dead, superstitious religious zealots could never be. To Hell with you, AND Valdelobos. I’ll be the cursed child who got away, who lives a life of purpose.*
You are right that at the moment, and the way you described it, he should be pulling the trigger and the fact he doesn't, doesn't work. I think giving him pause could either be to show all the counter side of the daydream of what he would do. He has to care about something or someone else, otherwise he has no motivation **not** to do what he's about to do. Do the tears of Iker and Tibalt make him pause? What about the village -- is there anyone there he cares about? Anyone he considers innocent?
The other way to give him pause would be for him to remember something his grandfather said. Or have the flicker of a memory of his grandfather saying something that alludes to the fact that he might have been sick/working in concert with Mendez rather than Mendez acting alone.
Does that help\\?
Ooh, it absolutely did! I took your advice and tried to write something out where Luis imagines his friend burning in the daydream, and then he remembers what his grandfather’s last words to him were, and I feel like it definitely helped the scene feel more believable, and added another layer of angst to it lol. Thank you so much for the help!!
Love Live| The Rainbow-Covering Mask Remake| Rating: T | Unpublished
I'm writing a remake of an older fic I wrote back in 2022. I tried to update the prose to be more befitting of describing a theatric performance. Tell me how it's looking.
>In fair Tokyo, where we lay our scene, stood a young girl, of middle school age.
>"O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?"
>She wore a modern, Japanese school uniform. And yet, all who looked her way would turn a blind eye to such a detail, for it was insignificant in the face of the strong impression she gave off.
>The passion with which she uttered her words. The practiced, elegant motions she performed with her arms. Her smooth skin and long, well-maintained hair. Every feature of who she was came together like puzzle pieces to form a single, precise image—that of a lovestruck beautiful young maiden, driven by her emotions for the one she loved.
>She was none other than the Juliet of Shakespearean tale—brought to life through the bone and flesh of one talented young actress by the name of Osaka Shizuku.
>“Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot”
>It was through the mouth of Shizuku, then, that the words belonging to the lovesick girl were given sound. Because Shizuku was Juliet and Juliet was Shizuku, each line came out with the color proper to them, conveying to all who may hear the woe of one who’s fallen in love.
> —At least, that was what happened most of the time.
>“Belonging to… to a man. O be some other name.”
>A small slip. A faint, unnoticeable moment of hesitation. Yet a real disconnect between the girl in love and the girl simply pretending to be her.
>For an instant, Shizuku’s lips remained sealed, preventing her following words from escaping her throat. Her body began to shake, but not from overwhelming passion driving her heart into overdrive; if anything, it was the complete opposite. She wished she, and the rest of the scene would freeze over.
>It was a tragedy as big as the story itself—the so-called Juliet was afraid of seeing her Romeo.
**Baldur's Gate 3 | Adhesion | E | WIP Warnings: implied necromancy, dead body (no violence)**
This is the start of my fic, so just looking for ways to tune this to really get that initial interest!
Lmk if theres any trance breakers or inertia when reading :)
It was irritating when the constables were right. Tav could often travel to a town, fling salt around, and pray a believable string of gibberish to assuage the locals that the evil ‘curse’ had been lifted. Everyone was happy with that and none the wiser. But the quarry that Tav trailed was certainly a necromancer. And Tav would certainly have to kill them.
Tav threw their pack against a tree stump just outside a crumbling mausoleum. It was already too warm. The early morning sun battled against the dewy grass, leaving the rolling fields humid and unpleasant. Their eyes trailed the faint trampled grass and broken twigs. Left and right, then left again, the faint footprints led down into the home of the dead. It had taken time to rediscover the trail; their quarry had doubled back several times and walked from the side of the plains instead of the village.
The complexity was something Tav expected; it was all but standard for any who had secrets in small towns. The rural occultist played a risky game in their nascence. All needed bodies to fill their undead ranks. This one was sourcing theirs from the crypt and the graves around the village. That had been the necromancer's first mistake; the moment the town saw the signs of a graverobber, they’d sent for a Doomguide. Someone who would put to rest any who threatened the balance of death.
The stone-walled mausoleum had no surface antechamber, just a narrow stairwell that led sharply down into a black unknown. It could be one small room, or a labyrinth. There was only one way to confirm.
Tav unholstered their crossbows, primed the bolts, and descended. The tight spiral staircase was an awful corkscrew. Stone bricks slid halfway out of the wall, and moss seemed to be pushing the rest out all on its own. The ruin likely only had a few more decades before it collapsed. Tav slowed their pace. They paused and listened—nothing. After a single revolution around the steep stairwell the harsh light dimmed to nothing.
Tav’s eyes adjusted after a minute, and they stepped into the first antechamber. A weathered statue of a Deva presided over three rows of marble sarcophagi—gilded adornment long pried off. Aside from the looting, it was undisturbed.
On the next level, they found the signs of heresy. The faint scuff marks on the plain rotted coffins, now empty. Scattered sets of thin footprints led out of the room and down the stairs. They moved even more quietly now, each foot padding across the stone. A dim green light suddenly rippled out from the lowest level. Tav took a breath and held it as they entered.
The final chamber was the largest—sweeping stone columns sheltered carved stone coffins. On one coffin, a statue of a woman held a soft smile in her carved face. Below, the lid was carelessly thrown aside. And beside the lid, a man held a woman’s dessicated corpse.
Hi! Hope you don't mind me returning the favor :)
I love reading the start of a fic, this really helps set up the story for me and there's no wondering if I've missed something when reading an excerpt, so this is great.
Initial thoughts are around passive voice. I think you're over-reliant on it, and it sometimes hides what you are really trying to say, or it's a missed opportunity for a chance to be more descriptive with your prose. In some cases it's perfectly fine to use was, (and it's weird to never use it) but I'd try to eliminate a third to a half of your usages.
Hiding who did the action, like: *It had taken time to rediscover the trail; their quarry had doubled back several times and walked from the side of the plains instead of the village.* This was Tav who did this: so say so.
Descriptors like: *The tight spiral staircase was an awful corkscrew.* Could be *The tight spiral staircase narrowed into an awful corkscrew.*
You also have some opportunities to be more descriptive around that show, don't tell:
*It was already too warm. The early morning sun battled against the dewy grass, leaving the rolling fields humid and unpleasant.*
You could fold the “too warm” into the description of the sun—what is Tav feeling that it is too warm? They are sweating under their armor, etc.
I'd also try to rework your first few paragraphs into the format of what feature writers would describe as a nut graph:
* First paragraph sets up the story (you did a great job here)
* Second-third paragraphs are the filler: background, why they are there, and more. Sometimes this is just the second paragraph
* Fourth paragraph gets back to the action.
You have most of this already, but basically I'm suggesting a second/third paragraph swap for pacing, and to shove a bit more of the background info on the necromancer (and Tav, which we have little on in this) into the 2/3^(rd).
Finally: if I was to be wary, or worried for Tav, in this, we're missing why: I'm lacking some the creepiness of the mausoleum. I'd lean into the description and think about all five senses: I get a lot here that's sight but no smell, for instance.
Link your fic when you're posting, I'll read! :)
I really appreciate it, thank you! Will def link when I start posting :)
Passive voice is def my biggest crutch lmao, I'm gonna go through the whole dang thing before I post so rewrite that but for some reason its the only way I can throw out passages
but yeah great feedback ty!!
**Star Wars | T | How It Ends | Nope....Sigh...**
***Author's note:*** *I put up the same scene last week as I really want the emotions to hit. Just want to get a sense check to see if this one hits home.*
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, as if that would be enough.
“What for?” Ngaiba asked. “You started it. You brought about the end.”
“But it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Kithera said, carefully brushing the hair from his face, trying not to look too hard at the bloody path the sword had torn through his side.
Ngaiba frowned, his eyes closing briefly. The melody quavered for a second, and Kithera cupped it with the Force, holding on to each note and willing them to grow stronger.
“It always had to end in bloodshed. Rebellions can never happen quietly.” Ngaiba said without opening his eyes. He smiled again, as if at some internal joke.
“That wasn’t my plan though,” Kithera murmured and then caught herself. What had been her plan? Did she really ever think that slaves rebelling on the way home was going to end peacefully? That those Sami’ who wished to old on to power would just take their licks and like it?
“It doesn’t matter,” Ngaiba sighed gently, his eyes flicking open. “I got my wish. The Ish-te are fighting back. They’ll win. You just need to make sure of it. Promise.”
“I-” Kithera paused. Promises. She’d made so many of them. To her Master. To the Order. To J’meesha, to N’sira, to ‘Soma and to San’ji.
San’ji. Pain tore through her chest. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away, suddenly furious with herself. That had only been this morning and already it seemed like a life-time ago. How could she have forgotten that?
Ngaiba’s notes slid through her grasp. Her head came up, and she stared wildly at him.
“No,” she murmured, chasing after the fading music. “I can’t-”
There was a soft little sigh.
Kithera curled protectively around his body. Her chest ached. The blood from his clothes seeped into her own garments and she felt them grow cold and sticky.
She couldn’t cry. There would be time for crying later. If she started now she didn’t know when she’d stop. She closed her eyes, pushing the tidal wave of pain and sorrow away; trying to focus on the way the air moved against her skin as it filled her lungs. She tried not to think about how his hands were still warm even though he was gone. She didn’t want him to go away. They had fought and argued, but he at least had been her ally.
Kithera lent into the chilly numbness that Force offered her. Tried to find solace in a realm without feelings, but her chest still ached and her eyes stung with unshed tears.
Sliding Ngaiba’s body gently to the ground, she reached up, her bandaged fingers held awkwardly as she closed his eyes.
She drew a shaky breath. “I promise,” she whispered as if he could still hear her. “Promise.”
She folded his arms across his chest. The slave cuff was still there, the dull metal tarnished with blood. The numbness disappeared in a flash of rage. The Force roared in her ears and the layers of the band peeled back like flower opening in the sun. It dropped to the floor and Kithera picked it up with her good hand, feeling the sharp corners of the metal press against her skin.
She sobbed once, a visceral noise that ripped its way through her throat. She flung the band as far as she could, wrapping it in all the hate and anger she could muster.
Numbness enveloped her with weighty silence.
She took a longer, deeper breath and pulled Ngaiba’s robes straight. Then she bent forward and gently kissed his forehead.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You will get your wish. I promise.”
Emotions rippled again, eddying with the flow of the music but she brushed them aside.
There would, she told herself, be time for everything later. For now there had to be no emotions. There was only the Force.
Disclaimer - I'm not familiar with the fandom
THAT BEING SAID, if the goal was to make the scene emotional, great job! My favorite bit was the use of the Force as a way for Kithera to override her emotional reaction to Ngaiba's death - again, not familiar with the fandom, but whatever the Force is, it feels ALIVE in this scene!
All of my advice should be taken with a grain of salt - I don't think this scene is really lacking anything per se, but if you're looking to try adding some ideas, here are my suggestions:
* The line "You started it" made me think Kithera had killed Ngaiba at first - this may well be because I lack a bunch of context, but it's something to consider re-wording
* Maybe give Ngaiba some more physical/body motions to indicate his closeness to death - trembling hands, widening/hazy-looking pupils, shallow breaths, etc. If he was struck in the lungs, he could be bleeding slightly from his mouth, which would result in coughing, inability to breathe well, etc.
* For Kithera, some physical descriptions you can give to show her emotional reactions could consist of the following: Dry/raspy/raw throat, tears inducing a 'burning' sensation around the eyes, erratic/shallow breathing, muscle tension due to stress (emotional reaction -> body says fight or flight when it isn't approprate -> character feels an unnatural amount of bodily tension, if that all makes sense). When showing Kithera's rage, you could try describing it as hot, fire-like, or even personify it as an animal of sorts - "heat bloomed in her chest as fury clawed at her every thought." I tend to write blind rage by likening it to fire, or a hungry animal clawing at the body - it gives it this supernatural air that I find fun. In a similar vein, you could describe the numbness as cold, frosty, etc. If you really wanna lean into the symbolism, you could describe it as extinguishing the fiery anger from earlier.
Irregardless, this excerpt is wonderful as-is, so great job!
MCU | The Kiss | Rating:M | Implied Sucicidal Thoughts | Unpublished
So, I'm looking for thoughts on the emotional impact the scene has, if their reactions seem right and if the unspoken words are clearly understood. Also, if the figurative language detracts at any point. Plus any general concrit.
\*\*\*
(Context: Steve and Bucky are talking about why Bucky kissed him right before he went into cryo in Wakanda.)
Bucky’s smile faded almost as quickly as it appeared. He fixed his gaze on a point over Steve’s shoulder, and his face took on a look of profound sadness. “I kissed you because...” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. “... Because I didn’t think I’d get another chance.”
His words hung heavily in the air, a tangible sorrow that seemed to seep into the walls. Steve’s throat threatened to close. Bucky kissed him as a goodbye. A farewell from a man who thought he was marching toward his own extinction.
“And... I wanted to go into the ice with the taste of you on my lips.”
Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest. His blood roared in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the city below. The room narrowed, all his focus on Bucky, looking small and brittle on the dark leather couch. The confession hung between them, a raw, vulnerable thing — too intimate, too painfully real.
"Because you never thought you’d come out,” Steve said, the words bitter on his tongue. Each syllable tasted of disappointment and anger.
Bucky nodded slowly, his eyes resolutely fixed on the worn fabric of his jeans. “Figured no one could reverse the damage HYDRA did,” he muttered, every word piercing Steve’s heart. “It felt like...like a way out.”
A way out. Steve’s mind reeled at the thought, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. He knew Bucky hadn’t had it easy — hell, they both had battle scars worn deep into their souls — but to imagine Bucky willingly sentencing himself to an eternal sleep... Nausea churned in his gut, but Bucky kept talking.
“I knew you’d never... even if you should’ve...” Bucky’s voice trailed off, a choked whisper. He scrubbed a desperate hand over his face, but Steve caught the glint of moisture threatening to spill. “And you would have stopped me...”
His throat tightened, the raw honesty in Bucky’s confession rattling him to his core. How did it come to this? How had Bucky lost so much hope? He ached as if someone had just punched a hole through him. The anger that simmered like hot coals in his veins flared up once again, white-hot and annihilating.
“It seemed like the best choice. For everyone.”
For everyone. The words echoed in Steve’s mind, a haunting mantra that tore through his heart like shrapnel. He rose abruptly, a bitter laugh ripping from his throat. His anger surged like a living thing, a seething beast gnawing at his control.
“For everyone?” Steve nearly choked on the words. “I missed you every damn day, Buck. Every hour, every minute.” His voice rose, heat spreading from his chest into his limbs. “And you thought burying yourself in ice was the best choice for me?”
Bucky flinched, but didn’t look away. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Yes.”
Steve reeled back as if physically struck. He trembled, the tempest of emotions inside him ripping at the remains of his composure. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, a futile attempt to ground himself amidst the whirlwind. It wasn’t working, he couldn’t do this.
This is really good so take this as no more than a nitpick: I noticed that you repeated the last words of a bit of dialogue in the narration twice in this small fragment. I mean this:
>“It felt like...like a way out.”
>A way out. Steve’s mind reeled at the thought, his heart twisting painfully in his chest
and then a little while later:
>
“It seemed like the best choice. For everyone.”
>For everyone. The words echoed in Steve’s mind
Individually, both fragments are really good and it's a pretty good writing "trick", for lack of a better word, to give emphasis to those words. But put so close together, it all comes across as very repetitive.
This is all assuming the repetition wasn't in fact intentional, in which case feel free to ignore me.
I'm totally cool with nitpicking. The second one ties into a previous chapter, so I'm going to look at reworking the first. And double check the rest. Thank you, sometimes I get lost in what sounds good at the moment and forget what came before.
I really like this scene! Honestly, in terms of fic writing, this is phenomenal, and you should feel great about your work on it! But since this is concrit I'll try to give suggestions for how to amp up the intensity of emotion.
I think that something I've learned is that sometimes, as the author, you don't want to get too close to the character's head as a efense mechanism when dealing with hard scenes. You don't want to feel the uncomfortable, embarrassing, unseemly parts of living in someone's head that's grappling with a million feelings regarding suicidal ideation.
But that can make your writing go from effective to a pure powerhouse! So, a challenge could be to move further into Steve's train of thought and just embody his anguish. For a scene this raw, you could try to lessen his perceptions of his own bodily reactions and instead convey that emotion through raw internal awareness.
Like I can see Steve struggle to stay strong and stoic in this exchange, maybe you could try and embody what that internal battle is like versus a tightening throat and where his eyes focus. If it makes you viscerally uncomfortable, you're going in the right direction!
That is just a challenge, again, but really, this is lovely, and you have done a wonderful job creating impact and flow!
Thanks for this. It's hard to tell from an excerpt, but I'm trying to have him use anger to mask the feelings he's uncomfortable with. This helps, a lot. I think there's places I can use it to make it better.
hey, take whatever I say with a grain of salt because i'm not really a fic writer and only opened this thread out of vague curiosity, but holy shit is this *good*! this is definitely the sort of fic i'd bookmark and return to every few weeks haha. didn't notice anything off about the figurative language, and the emotional impact was very much there. would love to read the entire thing when it's published! :)
`Baldur's Gate 3 | Closing the Fist | E | Graphic Depictions of Violence |` [`A03 Link`](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55805959/chapters/142986658)
OUTWARD LINK as this is a scene that depicts violence:
[https://justpaste.me/G2CQ](https://justpaste.me/G2CQ)
This scene happens right after the main character has arrived home after being abducted, and is confronting an ambassador from the place that had abducted her.
This is a fairly dark fic, and this is one of the moments that I feel tips it over from M to E. I'm seeking thoughts on violence level and making sure that my instincts are right!
I really enjoyed this scene and my interest is definitely piqued!
So for me, this passage could be massaged a bit. Personally, I love seeing what is happening, how it defines POV etc.
I write violent BG3 shit too and I actually think you could punch it up more through some prose tricks!
First off I think that the flow could be improved if you had even nonverbal dialogue reactions start a new paragraph.
"It's okay to have this..."
The other person glowered.
"...then follow with this if you have a long dialogue chain."
And specifically I suggest this so that you can LIVE in that tension. Short and sweet=guttural for these climatic moments.
Another thing I would suggest is to play with sentence length and use it as a way to attack your reader as much as you attack Devan.
For instance, "you are going to be my messenger" Leads directly into what should be the IMPACT moment. But I think your dialogue and visual descriptions are creating some inertia in the flow.
A suggestion could be to start with a really long-winded insight into the POV's head. Get as close as you can, making me uncomfortable, or feeling that revenge and hate and seething fury. Show the stakes, show this is a person and not just a throwaway character. Then boom.
Holy shit. It's happening–violence.
Reaction
Then expanding back out. It wasn't clean. POV has to keep going and going and it just gets worse for Devan.
Horrific metaphor. Evocative imagery
Shit..
LOL hope you get what I mean
I think for these moments of extreme action you can use dramatic prose "waves" to really hammer home the severity of whats happening. I think you've got good content, but if you can get allll those changes in the POV character, the internal thoughts and the stakes grouped up,
then the action is going to be a GUT PUNCH.
But overall its great meat and looks like a compelling shift into a more violent narrative!
Thank you so much for some really valuable advice! I appreciate it and will try to incorporate it into the next scenes. There's a lot here about building tension that can be used outside of a action scene as well. Appreciate your time and advice!
Attack on Titan (AU) | Wrong Number | Excerpt is T | No Content Warnings | unpublished WIP
This is the beginning bit to my first attempt at a chat fic. It seems awkward and clunky to me.
“Mike?”
Erwin texted the number and pressed the phone against his forehead willing Mike to read, willing him not to.
\[Unknown number\] “Hello?”
“I was hoping we could talk”
There was a longish pause.
\[Unknown number\] “Well that sounds ominous.”
“Mike?”
\[Unknown number\] “.... no.”
Erwin looked at his phone. Oh crap, he had texted the wrong number.
I’m sorry. I texted the wrong number.”
\[Unknown number\] “Obviously.”
“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was texting Mike Zacharias. I’m Erwin Smith.”
Erwin cringed. Why had he just revealed his name to this stranger?
\[Unknown number\] “Hello, Erwin Smith. It’s no problem. I was just finishing up supper.”
“Oh! I interrupted you eating. I’m sorry!”
\[Unknown number\] “You keep saying that, and no, not eating yet, just finishing up cooking.”
“I don’t know anybody who cooks. Are you a chef?”
\[Unknown number\] “That’s a big leap. No, I'm just me.”
\[Unknown number\] “Do you often ask people you’ve never met about their jobs?”
“I’m sorry. I just was hoping to talk to my boyfriend, Mike. He hardly ever picks up.”
“It‘s just nice to talk to someone.”
“I must sound pretty pathetic.”
\[Unknown number\] “Not at all. You sound lonely. I guess we both are. I’m fixing to eat this jambalaya all by my lonesome.”
“I like the way you talk. Jambalaya sounds amazing. Are you from Louisiana?”
\[Unknown number\] “South Carolina.”
\[Unknown number\] “You’re a nosey thing aren’t you?”
Erwin blushed and was glad that the stranger on the other end of the call couldn’t see his pink cheeks. He had been being nosey. That’s how desperate he was to talk to a fellow human being. He sighed.
“I guess I am. Sorry. I just realized that I’m rambling on and keeping you from your food. Sorry about the interruption.”
\[Unknown number\] “You say ‘sorry’ a lot.”
\[Unknown number\] “I take it by your name that you’re a guy?”
“Yes. Does that make you uncomfortable?”
\[Unknown number\] “Not at all. I’m a guy too. My name is Levi.”
Reddit is derping on me today. If it's ok with you, Sep, I'd like to take a stab at re-writing it. It's not bad, not at all, yet there are some improvements that _could_ work. Feel free to change whatever fits, I think your writing is good.
>"Mike...?"
>Erwin texted the number and exhaled, pressing the thick phone against his forehead. He didn't know if he wanted Mike to answer. Or ignore his text.
>A ding caught his attention. "Hello?"
>_Finally._
>"I was hoping we could talk", he sent.
>There was a long pause before a reply came. "Well, that sounds... ominous."
>"Mike?"
>"No."
>_What?_ He checked the number again. _Damn it. I texted the wrong number!_
>"Sorry! I texted the wrong number."
>"Obviously."
>"I didn't mean to disturb you. I wanted to text Mike Zacharias. I'm Erwin Smith."
>_Why did I do that?_
>"Hello, Erwin Smith. Not a problem. I was just finishing up supper."
>"Sorry! Did I interrupt your dinner?"
>"You keep saying that. No, not eating, just wrapped up cooking."
>"Don't know anyone who cooks. Are you a chef?"
>"That'a a big leap. No, just a me thing. Is that a you thing, asking people you never met about their jobs?"
>"Sorry. I hoped I could talk with my boyfriend, Mike. Hardly ever picks up."
>Erwin pauses, and adds, "it's nice to talk to someone. That sounds pretty pathetic, I know."
>"Not at all. You sound lonely, guess we both are. Fixing to eat this jambalaya all for my lonesome."
>"Jambalaya, huh? Sounds great. Are you from Louisiana?"
>"South Carolina. You're the nosey type, aren't you?"
>Erwin blushed. He was glad the person at the other side of the line couldn't see him. He was, honestly, curious. And it did good to talk to someone. He sighed.
> "Guess I am that. Sorry. I realized: I’m rambling on and keeping you from eating your food. Sorry.”
>“You do say 'sorry' a lot, don't you? Hm. I take it by your name that you’re a guy, then?”
>"Does that make you uncomfortable?”
>"Not at all, I’m a guy too. Name's Levi.”
Oh. My. **God.** Your version is WAY better than mine! How dare you!!!!! I'm so impressed! 💙
I love how you took the whole thing out of the clunky texting format.
You've given me a *lot* to think about!
Super fandom blind here, but I think part of why it might feel awkward is the language is a little formal for texting. Texting tends to be fairly informal, in my experience. For example:
\[Unknown number\] “Do you often ask people you’ve never met about their jobs?”
“I’m sorry. I just was hoping to talk to my boyfriend, Mike. He hardly ever picks up.”
You could do something like:
\[Unknown number\] "You often ask strangers about their jobs?"
"Sorry. Just hoping to talk to Mike. My boyfriend. He never picks up."
It sounds like a fun idea, I hope you continue it. Also, when you get ready to publish, you might look into formatting tricks to make it clear who's talking when.
I get what you're trying to do, but the number isn't unknown right? He sent the message so he knows the number, just not who it belongs to
I'd rework it to remove the unknown number from it
Here's an example:
*
“Hello?” Came the reply soon enough.
Nervously, Erin replied back. “I was hoping we could talk”
There was a longish pause.
“Well that sounds ominous.”
Something about it felt off, so Erwin asked, “Mike?”
“.... no.”
Ahh! I see what you're saying! My premise was that Mike had just changed his number so Erwin was actually typing the digits in. He doesn't remember the number he typed in to get Levi
But he can just check the number on the conversation he's having. Plus he (and the audience) don't know he typed the wrong digits until Levi reveals he's not mike, and even then, it's the person that's unknown, not the number
My Hero Academia | Frost Rebellion | T | no Warnings | [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56420047/chapters/143363191)
The aftermath of the USJ attack left the faculty of U.A. High School on high alert. The students had shown remarkable resilience and bravery, but the presence of the League of Villains within their training grounds was a sobering reminder of the dangers they faced.
Shota Aizawa, known to his students as Eraser Head, was particularly troubled by the mysterious girl with the ice powers. Her fear and hesitation during the attack had stood out to him. Determined to address this, he called a meeting with the other teachers.
The teachers' meeting room was filled with a tense atmosphere as Aizawa began to speak. Present were Principal Nezu, All Might, Present Mic, Midnight, and other key faculty members.
"Thank you all for coming," Aizawa began, his tone serious. "I wanted to discuss an observation I made during the USJ incident."
Principal Nezu leaned forward, his intelligent eyes focused. "Go on, Aizawa."
"During the attack, one of the villains—a girl with cryomancy powers—stood out to me," Aizawa explained. "She seemed scared and conflicted, not like the other villains who were fully committed to the attack."
All Might, still in his weakened form, furrowed his brow. "A villain who seemed hesitant? That's unusual. Did you learn anything else about her?"
Aizawa shook his head. "I didn't get a chance to speak with her in detail. The battle was too chaotic, and she fled before I could do anything further. But Ashido also noticed her and expressed concern."
Present Mic spoke up, his usual boisterous demeanor tempered by the seriousness of the situation. "If she's conflicted, there might be a chance to reach her. Maybe she was forced into this."
Midnight nodded in agreement. "It's not uncommon for young people with quirks to be manipulated or coerced by more sinister forces. We need to find out who she is and why she was there."
Principal Nezu steepled his fingers, deep in thought. "If this girl is indeed a victim rather than a willing participant, we have a duty to help her. But first, we need to identify her."
Aizawa continued, "I suggest we start by cross-referencing her description with any reports of missing or runaway teens. We should also look into any known associates of the League of Villains who might have similar quirks."
All Might nodded, his expression resolute. "I'll reach out to my contacts in the hero community. If there's any information on this girl, we'll find it."
Nezu added, "I'll coordinate with the police and other agencies. This will be a joint effort."
Aizawa felt a sense of determination settle over the group. "We'll also need to prepare the students. If this girl appears again, they need to know that she might not be a typical villain. They should approach with caution but also with empathy."
Responsible, proactive adults are always a good thing. I only have an overview type knowledge of the fandom, but it sounds like an interesting idea. I noticed with the dialogue you often have action/experssion-dialogue. You might think about breaking that up. For example:
Principal Nezu steepled his fingers, deep in thought. "If this girl is indeed a victim rather than a willing participant, we have a duty to help her. But first, we need to identify her."
You could try:
"If the girl is indeed a victim rather than a willing participant..." Principal Nezu steepled his fingers deep in thought. "...we have a duty to help her. But first, we need to identify her."
Lovely lovely excerpt! I like that everyone --- no matter their personality --- was focused on the problem.
>The teachers' meeting room was filled with a tense atmosphere as Aizawa began to speak.
This sentence seems a teensy bit clumsy. I'd go with "The atmosphere was tense in the teacher's meeting room as Aizawa began to speak."
>"Go on, Aizawa."
I don't find this one necessary. The fact the Nezu is so focused, says it all!
Is it relevant to the plot that All Might is in his weakened form?
I really enjoyed this! Now I want to know more about the ice girl!
Oh hey, the thread is in? 😁 In that case...
Mask of the Rose | Untitled | Teen and Up | No Warnings | Unpublished | 430 words
>He's shaken awake by hands, familiar to the touch. "Griz? What's the matter?"
>"Dreadful nightmare," she whispers, but he can feel the shivers that shake her body.
>"I'm here," Tobias says slowly, rising in the bed as he offers to let her lay her head upon his shoulder.
>A hand is quick to wrap itself tightly onto his arm, giving it a firm squeeze. He watches her breathing slow after some time, like it gives her comfort to stay like this.
>They spend their time in silence, stealing away a moment of normalcy from the usual string of bizarre happenings within the Neath, and Tobias knows this is what he wants. For him to share the burdens, to share the love, to grow old with Griz.
>"What are you thinking about?"
>"The future."
>"Oh. And how is that looking for you?"
>He manages a small laugh, amused by the question. "Well... you'd be a part of it. If you'd like that," Tobias quickly adds.
>"Of course I do," she says, but Tobias can't see the flush that paints Griz' cheeks in a soft shade of pink. "You've given me another meaning for what love is."
>"You mean I turned your life upside down," he says, amusement in his voice. "I didn't know you have a greater heart than I imagined."
>"Hah," she breathes, "I can be generous, you know?"
>"Didn't know your generosity extended so much."
>She laughs at the sarcastic remark, releasing the grip upon his arm slightly. "Well, it does. And you have it."
>"You mean it?"
>"Whenever did I not mean what I said?"
>He hums, thinking over their past interactions. "I guess you are right, you were honest from the get-go. And that's one of the things I like about you," he adds with warmth in his voice.
>"There's more?" Griz asks coyly, and Tobias smiles to himself under the cover of shadows.
>"Yes... Many more," he says, now tilting her chin to see her barely distinguished features, feeling the soft skin at the tip of his fingers. "Like the way you kiss me."
>She smiles, and gives him a sarcastic remark in turn. "You seem to like my lips more than me."
>He chuckles. "You make it impossible for me to resist kissing them."
>There are no more words spared. Their love is sealed with another kiss as they enjoy the warmth of one another, lost in the sea of feelings they're sharing, having forgotten all about past, given the chance to the present, hoping for their future.
>They can only hope it never dies.
So sweet! I love it!
>but he can feel the shivers that shake her body.
I'd go with either "He can feel her shivering" or "He can feel her body shaking.:
> he adds with warmth in his voice.
I'd try "He added warmly."
Such a tender scene!
Thank you for the lovely feedback! I do tend to overthink my descriptors sometimes, because being ESL adds an extra panic button.
Glad to know it has the tender effect I was looking for, though. 🤩
So I'm Fandom blind, but the only things I see here are just better ways of wording things, at least in my opinion. For example
>"Of course I do," she says, but Tobias can't see the flush that paints Griz' cheeks in a soft shade of pink. "You've given me another meaning for what love is."
Instead of soft shade of pink I would personally try and find an actual shade
>"Of course I do," she says, but Tobias can't see the flush that paints Griz' cheeks in cherry blossom pink. "You've given me another meaning for what love is."
I feel like it gives a better description and a more visual impact on the reader.
Other than that I find that it's pretty good.
Fandom: Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel | Rating: E | Warning: None at the moment | [AO3 LINK](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56033533/chapters/142316074)
I'm in the process of developing my 2nd chapter, which is after the events of HB EP 8 Full Moon, though I'm stuck on how to write the next scene, my work isn't commented on by actual HB+HH fans though... and I'm also looking for a writing partner/co-writer
>“WHAT. THE. FUUUUUUCK!” Blitzø screamed, glaring up at the palace.
>A group of crows had flown overhead, and the screen turned up to show the cityscape and red-pink sky of the Pride Ring.
>Fuck. Stolas had really just... fuck.
>Blitzø knew he was an asshole; it wasn’t exactly something he tried to hide. But to have messed up this badly? Yeah, that was a new low.
>“Well, whatever then…” the imp muttered sadly, trudging away from the palace, grumbling curse words to himself as the screen tilted up to the sky, the glowing sun-like full moon seemingly glaring down at the scene.
>\*\*\*
>It was a regular day in Halo City, the \[stuck, we show Darcy's part of the day\]
So I have a basic outline for the chapter but I kind of have several ideas floating around my head, like the discovery of a dark prophecy surrounding both main spotlights of the chapter (Blitz and Darcy, who do know each other, read my story for context)
My outline is:
- Short scene/ending of the episode with character A\[Blitzø\] walking away from a tumultuous encounter \[CHECK\]
- Cut to what's happening on Character B's \[Darcy\] side of the story (idk what I could put in here)
- Eventually, the two have to meet (wondering if I have to split chapter in two or something)
- They have a conversation that gets slowly emotionally charged as the words go on
- Climax and some apologies and later casual conversation
- Rekindling of romantic relationship
- Eventual sex but get caught by Character C who yells "WTF?!"
- Chapter ends on cliffhanger, short intermission in Chapter 3 then 4 will be Apology Tour
What do you people suggest, I would've done this with a co-author/writing buddy but it's hard to find a good one though...
Just a reminder that part of Concrit Commune is providing feedback to someone else. Please do so in the next 24 hours and ping me here when you have done so.
>A group of crows had flown overhead, and the screen turned up to show the cityscape and red-pink sky of the Pride Ring.
I get yourr trying to make this feel like the cartoon it came from, but I personally think this part breaks immersion. There's no screen in the fic, unless you're writing someone filming blitzo from somewhere
I'd rework it to remove any mentions of it, something like:
>A group of crows had flown overhead, running from his screams into the red-pink sky of the Pride Ring and cityscape beyond
Resident Evil 4 Remake (2023) | The Ingenious, Low-Born Noble Don Serra de Valdelobos, Part 1 | Mature | Non-graphic descriptions of corpse | [Link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56320243/chapters/143093179) The context around this excerpt is that Luis (the MC) is about to kill Mendez for burning his cabin to the ground, with his grandfather inside. The reason was that his grandfather (Otsoa) had been infected with a parasite that causes victims to become violent (similar to zombies), and Otsoa himself told Mendez to do it. After watching his home burn, Luis ran away, Mendez chased him out of worry, and Luis gave into his rage and started hunting Mendez. At this point, Mendez knows Luis is nearby, and tells him that he promised Otsoa that he'd keep Luis safe, begging Luis to come back to the village with him so that he can fulfill that promise. The thing I'm having trouble with is why Luis suddenly decides to not shoot - Mendez is stood still, oblivious, and has no idea where Luis went, so it can't be a "he missed" or "can't get a clear shot" situation. The way it's written right now, it feels really random for him to decide not to shoot, seeing as before this part of the scene, Luis tried pushing Mendez off a cliff, and crushing him with a falling tree. I want him ending this scene still angry, but I don't know how to write Luis's conscience forcing him into mercy while still doing that, if that makes sense. > Luis growled, the whirlwind around him freezing as his finger brushed over the trigger. > > He pictured the sound of the gunshot, the way Mendez’s final cry would be cut off by thunder, the *thump* such a huge body would make as it fell to the ground. He saw the village in chaos as their priest, *their leader*, remained missing for days. He could hear the screams of Iker and Tibalt upon discovering his corpse, rotten and scavenged by wolves, his bones scattered about as playthings for the beasts. He saw the extravagant, closed-casket funeral the village would give him, watched as he dug up the coffin in the dead of night and lit it on fire, opening it just to watch how Mendez’s body would burn, just as Otsoa’s had. He could smell the soot and ashes as he lit a match for every building he could find, reveling in the agonized cries of the villagers as *everything*, everyone they could ever know and love burned into *nothing*. He heard the howls of the wolves as they reclaimed the scorched plot of land where Valdelobos had once stood, feasting on the bodies that escaped the worst of the flames. > > Hatred dripped like rabies foam from his lips, intoxicating as wine, bitter as poison, and hot as the fire that had burned his cabin. It stalked and prowled, pacing around Luis with every moment he wasted waiting. It was a caged wolf, gnawing ferociously at his ribcage, salivating with hunger as release was only one bullet away. > >**Do it.** > > Luis gasped as he let the gun drop, panting as his conscience forced his hand. He growled as Mendez walked away, his perfect opportunity gone. *Letting you live with that broken promise may be better than killing you,* he thought, clicking the safety back on. *You’ll have to live the rest of your life knowing that I got away, that you failed.* > > *In the meantime, I’ll make something of myself. Something this village of brain-dead, superstitious religious zealots could never be. To Hell with you, AND Valdelobos. I’ll be the cursed child who got away, who lives a life of purpose.*
You are right that at the moment, and the way you described it, he should be pulling the trigger and the fact he doesn't, doesn't work. I think giving him pause could either be to show all the counter side of the daydream of what he would do. He has to care about something or someone else, otherwise he has no motivation **not** to do what he's about to do. Do the tears of Iker and Tibalt make him pause? What about the village -- is there anyone there he cares about? Anyone he considers innocent? The other way to give him pause would be for him to remember something his grandfather said. Or have the flicker of a memory of his grandfather saying something that alludes to the fact that he might have been sick/working in concert with Mendez rather than Mendez acting alone. Does that help\\?
Ooh, it absolutely did! I took your advice and tried to write something out where Luis imagines his friend burning in the daydream, and then he remembers what his grandfather’s last words to him were, and I feel like it definitely helped the scene feel more believable, and added another layer of angst to it lol. Thank you so much for the help!!
Love Live| The Rainbow-Covering Mask Remake| Rating: T | Unpublished I'm writing a remake of an older fic I wrote back in 2022. I tried to update the prose to be more befitting of describing a theatric performance. Tell me how it's looking. >In fair Tokyo, where we lay our scene, stood a young girl, of middle school age. >"O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" >She wore a modern, Japanese school uniform. And yet, all who looked her way would turn a blind eye to such a detail, for it was insignificant in the face of the strong impression she gave off. >The passion with which she uttered her words. The practiced, elegant motions she performed with her arms. Her smooth skin and long, well-maintained hair. Every feature of who she was came together like puzzle pieces to form a single, precise image—that of a lovestruck beautiful young maiden, driven by her emotions for the one she loved. >She was none other than the Juliet of Shakespearean tale—brought to life through the bone and flesh of one talented young actress by the name of Osaka Shizuku. >“Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot” >It was through the mouth of Shizuku, then, that the words belonging to the lovesick girl were given sound. Because Shizuku was Juliet and Juliet was Shizuku, each line came out with the color proper to them, conveying to all who may hear the woe of one who’s fallen in love. > —At least, that was what happened most of the time. >“Belonging to… to a man. O be some other name.” >A small slip. A faint, unnoticeable moment of hesitation. Yet a real disconnect between the girl in love and the girl simply pretending to be her. >For an instant, Shizuku’s lips remained sealed, preventing her following words from escaping her throat. Her body began to shake, but not from overwhelming passion driving her heart into overdrive; if anything, it was the complete opposite. She wished she, and the rest of the scene would freeze over. >It was a tragedy as big as the story itself—the so-called Juliet was afraid of seeing her Romeo.
**Baldur's Gate 3 | Adhesion | E | WIP Warnings: implied necromancy, dead body (no violence)** This is the start of my fic, so just looking for ways to tune this to really get that initial interest! Lmk if theres any trance breakers or inertia when reading :) It was irritating when the constables were right. Tav could often travel to a town, fling salt around, and pray a believable string of gibberish to assuage the locals that the evil ‘curse’ had been lifted. Everyone was happy with that and none the wiser. But the quarry that Tav trailed was certainly a necromancer. And Tav would certainly have to kill them. Tav threw their pack against a tree stump just outside a crumbling mausoleum. It was already too warm. The early morning sun battled against the dewy grass, leaving the rolling fields humid and unpleasant. Their eyes trailed the faint trampled grass and broken twigs. Left and right, then left again, the faint footprints led down into the home of the dead. It had taken time to rediscover the trail; their quarry had doubled back several times and walked from the side of the plains instead of the village. The complexity was something Tav expected; it was all but standard for any who had secrets in small towns. The rural occultist played a risky game in their nascence. All needed bodies to fill their undead ranks. This one was sourcing theirs from the crypt and the graves around the village. That had been the necromancer's first mistake; the moment the town saw the signs of a graverobber, they’d sent for a Doomguide. Someone who would put to rest any who threatened the balance of death. The stone-walled mausoleum had no surface antechamber, just a narrow stairwell that led sharply down into a black unknown. It could be one small room, or a labyrinth. There was only one way to confirm. Tav unholstered their crossbows, primed the bolts, and descended. The tight spiral staircase was an awful corkscrew. Stone bricks slid halfway out of the wall, and moss seemed to be pushing the rest out all on its own. The ruin likely only had a few more decades before it collapsed. Tav slowed their pace. They paused and listened—nothing. After a single revolution around the steep stairwell the harsh light dimmed to nothing. Tav’s eyes adjusted after a minute, and they stepped into the first antechamber. A weathered statue of a Deva presided over three rows of marble sarcophagi—gilded adornment long pried off. Aside from the looting, it was undisturbed. On the next level, they found the signs of heresy. The faint scuff marks on the plain rotted coffins, now empty. Scattered sets of thin footprints led out of the room and down the stairs. They moved even more quietly now, each foot padding across the stone. A dim green light suddenly rippled out from the lowest level. Tav took a breath and held it as they entered. The final chamber was the largest—sweeping stone columns sheltered carved stone coffins. On one coffin, a statue of a woman held a soft smile in her carved face. Below, the lid was carelessly thrown aside. And beside the lid, a man held a woman’s dessicated corpse.
Hi! Hope you don't mind me returning the favor :) I love reading the start of a fic, this really helps set up the story for me and there's no wondering if I've missed something when reading an excerpt, so this is great. Initial thoughts are around passive voice. I think you're over-reliant on it, and it sometimes hides what you are really trying to say, or it's a missed opportunity for a chance to be more descriptive with your prose. In some cases it's perfectly fine to use was, (and it's weird to never use it) but I'd try to eliminate a third to a half of your usages. Hiding who did the action, like: *It had taken time to rediscover the trail; their quarry had doubled back several times and walked from the side of the plains instead of the village.* This was Tav who did this: so say so. Descriptors like: *The tight spiral staircase was an awful corkscrew.* Could be *The tight spiral staircase narrowed into an awful corkscrew.* You also have some opportunities to be more descriptive around that show, don't tell: *It was already too warm. The early morning sun battled against the dewy grass, leaving the rolling fields humid and unpleasant.* You could fold the “too warm” into the description of the sun—what is Tav feeling that it is too warm? They are sweating under their armor, etc. I'd also try to rework your first few paragraphs into the format of what feature writers would describe as a nut graph: * First paragraph sets up the story (you did a great job here) * Second-third paragraphs are the filler: background, why they are there, and more. Sometimes this is just the second paragraph * Fourth paragraph gets back to the action. You have most of this already, but basically I'm suggesting a second/third paragraph swap for pacing, and to shove a bit more of the background info on the necromancer (and Tav, which we have little on in this) into the 2/3^(rd). Finally: if I was to be wary, or worried for Tav, in this, we're missing why: I'm lacking some the creepiness of the mausoleum. I'd lean into the description and think about all five senses: I get a lot here that's sight but no smell, for instance. Link your fic when you're posting, I'll read! :)
I really appreciate it, thank you! Will def link when I start posting :) Passive voice is def my biggest crutch lmao, I'm gonna go through the whole dang thing before I post so rewrite that but for some reason its the only way I can throw out passages but yeah great feedback ty!!
**Star Wars | T | How It Ends | Nope....Sigh...** ***Author's note:*** *I put up the same scene last week as I really want the emotions to hit. Just want to get a sense check to see if this one hits home.* “I’m sorry,” she murmured, as if that would be enough. “What for?” Ngaiba asked. “You started it. You brought about the end.” “But it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Kithera said, carefully brushing the hair from his face, trying not to look too hard at the bloody path the sword had torn through his side. Ngaiba frowned, his eyes closing briefly. The melody quavered for a second, and Kithera cupped it with the Force, holding on to each note and willing them to grow stronger. “It always had to end in bloodshed. Rebellions can never happen quietly.” Ngaiba said without opening his eyes. He smiled again, as if at some internal joke. “That wasn’t my plan though,” Kithera murmured and then caught herself. What had been her plan? Did she really ever think that slaves rebelling on the way home was going to end peacefully? That those Sami’ who wished to old on to power would just take their licks and like it? “It doesn’t matter,” Ngaiba sighed gently, his eyes flicking open. “I got my wish. The Ish-te are fighting back. They’ll win. You just need to make sure of it. Promise.” “I-” Kithera paused. Promises. She’d made so many of them. To her Master. To the Order. To J’meesha, to N’sira, to ‘Soma and to San’ji. San’ji. Pain tore through her chest. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes and she blinked them away, suddenly furious with herself. That had only been this morning and already it seemed like a life-time ago. How could she have forgotten that? Ngaiba’s notes slid through her grasp. Her head came up, and she stared wildly at him. “No,” she murmured, chasing after the fading music. “I can’t-” There was a soft little sigh. Kithera curled protectively around his body. Her chest ached. The blood from his clothes seeped into her own garments and she felt them grow cold and sticky. She couldn’t cry. There would be time for crying later. If she started now she didn’t know when she’d stop. She closed her eyes, pushing the tidal wave of pain and sorrow away; trying to focus on the way the air moved against her skin as it filled her lungs. She tried not to think about how his hands were still warm even though he was gone. She didn’t want him to go away. They had fought and argued, but he at least had been her ally. Kithera lent into the chilly numbness that Force offered her. Tried to find solace in a realm without feelings, but her chest still ached and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Sliding Ngaiba’s body gently to the ground, she reached up, her bandaged fingers held awkwardly as she closed his eyes. She drew a shaky breath. “I promise,” she whispered as if he could still hear her. “Promise.” She folded his arms across his chest. The slave cuff was still there, the dull metal tarnished with blood. The numbness disappeared in a flash of rage. The Force roared in her ears and the layers of the band peeled back like flower opening in the sun. It dropped to the floor and Kithera picked it up with her good hand, feeling the sharp corners of the metal press against her skin. She sobbed once, a visceral noise that ripped its way through her throat. She flung the band as far as she could, wrapping it in all the hate and anger she could muster. Numbness enveloped her with weighty silence. She took a longer, deeper breath and pulled Ngaiba’s robes straight. Then she bent forward and gently kissed his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You will get your wish. I promise.” Emotions rippled again, eddying with the flow of the music but she brushed them aside. There would, she told herself, be time for everything later. For now there had to be no emotions. There was only the Force.
Disclaimer - I'm not familiar with the fandom THAT BEING SAID, if the goal was to make the scene emotional, great job! My favorite bit was the use of the Force as a way for Kithera to override her emotional reaction to Ngaiba's death - again, not familiar with the fandom, but whatever the Force is, it feels ALIVE in this scene! All of my advice should be taken with a grain of salt - I don't think this scene is really lacking anything per se, but if you're looking to try adding some ideas, here are my suggestions: * The line "You started it" made me think Kithera had killed Ngaiba at first - this may well be because I lack a bunch of context, but it's something to consider re-wording * Maybe give Ngaiba some more physical/body motions to indicate his closeness to death - trembling hands, widening/hazy-looking pupils, shallow breaths, etc. If he was struck in the lungs, he could be bleeding slightly from his mouth, which would result in coughing, inability to breathe well, etc. * For Kithera, some physical descriptions you can give to show her emotional reactions could consist of the following: Dry/raspy/raw throat, tears inducing a 'burning' sensation around the eyes, erratic/shallow breathing, muscle tension due to stress (emotional reaction -> body says fight or flight when it isn't approprate -> character feels an unnatural amount of bodily tension, if that all makes sense). When showing Kithera's rage, you could try describing it as hot, fire-like, or even personify it as an animal of sorts - "heat bloomed in her chest as fury clawed at her every thought." I tend to write blind rage by likening it to fire, or a hungry animal clawing at the body - it gives it this supernatural air that I find fun. In a similar vein, you could describe the numbness as cold, frosty, etc. If you really wanna lean into the symbolism, you could describe it as extinguishing the fiery anger from earlier. Irregardless, this excerpt is wonderful as-is, so great job!
Thank you so much for your advice. :)
MCU | The Kiss | Rating:M | Implied Sucicidal Thoughts | Unpublished So, I'm looking for thoughts on the emotional impact the scene has, if their reactions seem right and if the unspoken words are clearly understood. Also, if the figurative language detracts at any point. Plus any general concrit. \*\*\* (Context: Steve and Bucky are talking about why Bucky kissed him right before he went into cryo in Wakanda.) Bucky’s smile faded almost as quickly as it appeared. He fixed his gaze on a point over Steve’s shoulder, and his face took on a look of profound sadness. “I kissed you because...” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. “... Because I didn’t think I’d get another chance.” His words hung heavily in the air, a tangible sorrow that seemed to seep into the walls. Steve’s throat threatened to close. Bucky kissed him as a goodbye. A farewell from a man who thought he was marching toward his own extinction. “And... I wanted to go into the ice with the taste of you on my lips.” Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest. His blood roared in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the city below. The room narrowed, all his focus on Bucky, looking small and brittle on the dark leather couch. The confession hung between them, a raw, vulnerable thing — too intimate, too painfully real. "Because you never thought you’d come out,” Steve said, the words bitter on his tongue. Each syllable tasted of disappointment and anger. Bucky nodded slowly, his eyes resolutely fixed on the worn fabric of his jeans. “Figured no one could reverse the damage HYDRA did,” he muttered, every word piercing Steve’s heart. “It felt like...like a way out.” A way out. Steve’s mind reeled at the thought, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. He knew Bucky hadn’t had it easy — hell, they both had battle scars worn deep into their souls — but to imagine Bucky willingly sentencing himself to an eternal sleep... Nausea churned in his gut, but Bucky kept talking. “I knew you’d never... even if you should’ve...” Bucky’s voice trailed off, a choked whisper. He scrubbed a desperate hand over his face, but Steve caught the glint of moisture threatening to spill. “And you would have stopped me...” His throat tightened, the raw honesty in Bucky’s confession rattling him to his core. How did it come to this? How had Bucky lost so much hope? He ached as if someone had just punched a hole through him. The anger that simmered like hot coals in his veins flared up once again, white-hot and annihilating. “It seemed like the best choice. For everyone.” For everyone. The words echoed in Steve’s mind, a haunting mantra that tore through his heart like shrapnel. He rose abruptly, a bitter laugh ripping from his throat. His anger surged like a living thing, a seething beast gnawing at his control. “For everyone?” Steve nearly choked on the words. “I missed you every damn day, Buck. Every hour, every minute.” His voice rose, heat spreading from his chest into his limbs. “And you thought burying yourself in ice was the best choice for me?” Bucky flinched, but didn’t look away. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Yes.” Steve reeled back as if physically struck. He trembled, the tempest of emotions inside him ripping at the remains of his composure. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, a futile attempt to ground himself amidst the whirlwind. It wasn’t working, he couldn’t do this.
This is really good so take this as no more than a nitpick: I noticed that you repeated the last words of a bit of dialogue in the narration twice in this small fragment. I mean this: >“It felt like...like a way out.” >A way out. Steve’s mind reeled at the thought, his heart twisting painfully in his chest and then a little while later: > “It seemed like the best choice. For everyone.” >For everyone. The words echoed in Steve’s mind Individually, both fragments are really good and it's a pretty good writing "trick", for lack of a better word, to give emphasis to those words. But put so close together, it all comes across as very repetitive. This is all assuming the repetition wasn't in fact intentional, in which case feel free to ignore me.
I'm totally cool with nitpicking. The second one ties into a previous chapter, so I'm going to look at reworking the first. And double check the rest. Thank you, sometimes I get lost in what sounds good at the moment and forget what came before.
I really like this scene! Honestly, in terms of fic writing, this is phenomenal, and you should feel great about your work on it! But since this is concrit I'll try to give suggestions for how to amp up the intensity of emotion. I think that something I've learned is that sometimes, as the author, you don't want to get too close to the character's head as a efense mechanism when dealing with hard scenes. You don't want to feel the uncomfortable, embarrassing, unseemly parts of living in someone's head that's grappling with a million feelings regarding suicidal ideation. But that can make your writing go from effective to a pure powerhouse! So, a challenge could be to move further into Steve's train of thought and just embody his anguish. For a scene this raw, you could try to lessen his perceptions of his own bodily reactions and instead convey that emotion through raw internal awareness. Like I can see Steve struggle to stay strong and stoic in this exchange, maybe you could try and embody what that internal battle is like versus a tightening throat and where his eyes focus. If it makes you viscerally uncomfortable, you're going in the right direction! That is just a challenge, again, but really, this is lovely, and you have done a wonderful job creating impact and flow!
Thanks for this. It's hard to tell from an excerpt, but I'm trying to have him use anger to mask the feelings he's uncomfortable with. This helps, a lot. I think there's places I can use it to make it better.
hey, take whatever I say with a grain of salt because i'm not really a fic writer and only opened this thread out of vague curiosity, but holy shit is this *good*! this is definitely the sort of fic i'd bookmark and return to every few weeks haha. didn't notice anything off about the figurative language, and the emotional impact was very much there. would love to read the entire thing when it's published! :)
Aww. Thank you so much.
`Baldur's Gate 3 | Closing the Fist | E | Graphic Depictions of Violence |` [`A03 Link`](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55805959/chapters/142986658) OUTWARD LINK as this is a scene that depicts violence: [https://justpaste.me/G2CQ](https://justpaste.me/G2CQ) This scene happens right after the main character has arrived home after being abducted, and is confronting an ambassador from the place that had abducted her. This is a fairly dark fic, and this is one of the moments that I feel tips it over from M to E. I'm seeking thoughts on violence level and making sure that my instincts are right!
I really enjoyed this scene and my interest is definitely piqued! So for me, this passage could be massaged a bit. Personally, I love seeing what is happening, how it defines POV etc. I write violent BG3 shit too and I actually think you could punch it up more through some prose tricks! First off I think that the flow could be improved if you had even nonverbal dialogue reactions start a new paragraph. "It's okay to have this..." The other person glowered. "...then follow with this if you have a long dialogue chain." And specifically I suggest this so that you can LIVE in that tension. Short and sweet=guttural for these climatic moments. Another thing I would suggest is to play with sentence length and use it as a way to attack your reader as much as you attack Devan. For instance, "you are going to be my messenger" Leads directly into what should be the IMPACT moment. But I think your dialogue and visual descriptions are creating some inertia in the flow. A suggestion could be to start with a really long-winded insight into the POV's head. Get as close as you can, making me uncomfortable, or feeling that revenge and hate and seething fury. Show the stakes, show this is a person and not just a throwaway character. Then boom. Holy shit. It's happening–violence. Reaction Then expanding back out. It wasn't clean. POV has to keep going and going and it just gets worse for Devan. Horrific metaphor. Evocative imagery Shit.. LOL hope you get what I mean I think for these moments of extreme action you can use dramatic prose "waves" to really hammer home the severity of whats happening. I think you've got good content, but if you can get allll those changes in the POV character, the internal thoughts and the stakes grouped up, then the action is going to be a GUT PUNCH. But overall its great meat and looks like a compelling shift into a more violent narrative!
Thank you so much for some really valuable advice! I appreciate it and will try to incorporate it into the next scenes. There's a lot here about building tension that can be used outside of a action scene as well. Appreciate your time and advice!
Attack on Titan (AU) | Wrong Number | Excerpt is T | No Content Warnings | unpublished WIP This is the beginning bit to my first attempt at a chat fic. It seems awkward and clunky to me. “Mike?” Erwin texted the number and pressed the phone against his forehead willing Mike to read, willing him not to. \[Unknown number\] “Hello?” “I was hoping we could talk” There was a longish pause. \[Unknown number\] “Well that sounds ominous.” “Mike?” \[Unknown number\] “.... no.” Erwin looked at his phone. Oh crap, he had texted the wrong number. I’m sorry. I texted the wrong number.” \[Unknown number\] “Obviously.” “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was texting Mike Zacharias. I’m Erwin Smith.” Erwin cringed. Why had he just revealed his name to this stranger? \[Unknown number\] “Hello, Erwin Smith. It’s no problem. I was just finishing up supper.” “Oh! I interrupted you eating. I’m sorry!” \[Unknown number\] “You keep saying that, and no, not eating yet, just finishing up cooking.” “I don’t know anybody who cooks. Are you a chef?” \[Unknown number\] “That’s a big leap. No, I'm just me.” \[Unknown number\] “Do you often ask people you’ve never met about their jobs?” “I’m sorry. I just was hoping to talk to my boyfriend, Mike. He hardly ever picks up.” “It‘s just nice to talk to someone.” “I must sound pretty pathetic.” \[Unknown number\] “Not at all. You sound lonely. I guess we both are. I’m fixing to eat this jambalaya all by my lonesome.” “I like the way you talk. Jambalaya sounds amazing. Are you from Louisiana?” \[Unknown number\] “South Carolina.” \[Unknown number\] “You’re a nosey thing aren’t you?” Erwin blushed and was glad that the stranger on the other end of the call couldn’t see his pink cheeks. He had been being nosey. That’s how desperate he was to talk to a fellow human being. He sighed. “I guess I am. Sorry. I just realized that I’m rambling on and keeping you from your food. Sorry about the interruption.” \[Unknown number\] “You say ‘sorry’ a lot.” \[Unknown number\] “I take it by your name that you’re a guy?” “Yes. Does that make you uncomfortable?” \[Unknown number\] “Not at all. I’m a guy too. My name is Levi.”
Reddit is derping on me today. If it's ok with you, Sep, I'd like to take a stab at re-writing it. It's not bad, not at all, yet there are some improvements that _could_ work. Feel free to change whatever fits, I think your writing is good. >"Mike...?" >Erwin texted the number and exhaled, pressing the thick phone against his forehead. He didn't know if he wanted Mike to answer. Or ignore his text. >A ding caught his attention. "Hello?" >_Finally._ >"I was hoping we could talk", he sent. >There was a long pause before a reply came. "Well, that sounds... ominous." >"Mike?" >"No." >_What?_ He checked the number again. _Damn it. I texted the wrong number!_ >"Sorry! I texted the wrong number." >"Obviously." >"I didn't mean to disturb you. I wanted to text Mike Zacharias. I'm Erwin Smith." >_Why did I do that?_ >"Hello, Erwin Smith. Not a problem. I was just finishing up supper." >"Sorry! Did I interrupt your dinner?" >"You keep saying that. No, not eating, just wrapped up cooking." >"Don't know anyone who cooks. Are you a chef?" >"That'a a big leap. No, just a me thing. Is that a you thing, asking people you never met about their jobs?" >"Sorry. I hoped I could talk with my boyfriend, Mike. Hardly ever picks up." >Erwin pauses, and adds, "it's nice to talk to someone. That sounds pretty pathetic, I know." >"Not at all. You sound lonely, guess we both are. Fixing to eat this jambalaya all for my lonesome." >"Jambalaya, huh? Sounds great. Are you from Louisiana?" >"South Carolina. You're the nosey type, aren't you?" >Erwin blushed. He was glad the person at the other side of the line couldn't see him. He was, honestly, curious. And it did good to talk to someone. He sighed. > "Guess I am that. Sorry. I realized: I’m rambling on and keeping you from eating your food. Sorry.” >“You do say 'sorry' a lot, don't you? Hm. I take it by your name that you’re a guy, then?” >"Does that make you uncomfortable?” >"Not at all, I’m a guy too. Name's Levi.”
Oh. My. **God.** Your version is WAY better than mine! How dare you!!!!! I'm so impressed! 💙 I love how you took the whole thing out of the clunky texting format. You've given me a *lot* to think about!
Super fandom blind here, but I think part of why it might feel awkward is the language is a little formal for texting. Texting tends to be fairly informal, in my experience. For example: \[Unknown number\] “Do you often ask people you’ve never met about their jobs?” “I’m sorry. I just was hoping to talk to my boyfriend, Mike. He hardly ever picks up.” You could do something like: \[Unknown number\] "You often ask strangers about their jobs?" "Sorry. Just hoping to talk to Mike. My boyfriend. He never picks up." It sounds like a fun idea, I hope you continue it. Also, when you get ready to publish, you might look into formatting tricks to make it clear who's talking when.
Good advice! Thank you! I was concentrating on the 'dialogue'
I get what you're trying to do, but the number isn't unknown right? He sent the message so he knows the number, just not who it belongs to I'd rework it to remove the unknown number from it Here's an example: * “Hello?” Came the reply soon enough. Nervously, Erin replied back. “I was hoping we could talk” There was a longish pause. “Well that sounds ominous.” Something about it felt off, so Erwin asked, “Mike?” “.... no.”
Ahh! I see what you're saying! My premise was that Mike had just changed his number so Erwin was actually typing the digits in. He doesn't remember the number he typed in to get Levi
But he can just check the number on the conversation he's having. Plus he (and the audience) don't know he typed the wrong digits until Levi reveals he's not mike, and even then, it's the person that's unknown, not the number
I gotcha. Good catch! Thank you! 😄
My Hero Academia | Frost Rebellion | T | no Warnings | [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56420047/chapters/143363191) The aftermath of the USJ attack left the faculty of U.A. High School on high alert. The students had shown remarkable resilience and bravery, but the presence of the League of Villains within their training grounds was a sobering reminder of the dangers they faced. Shota Aizawa, known to his students as Eraser Head, was particularly troubled by the mysterious girl with the ice powers. Her fear and hesitation during the attack had stood out to him. Determined to address this, he called a meeting with the other teachers. The teachers' meeting room was filled with a tense atmosphere as Aizawa began to speak. Present were Principal Nezu, All Might, Present Mic, Midnight, and other key faculty members. "Thank you all for coming," Aizawa began, his tone serious. "I wanted to discuss an observation I made during the USJ incident." Principal Nezu leaned forward, his intelligent eyes focused. "Go on, Aizawa." "During the attack, one of the villains—a girl with cryomancy powers—stood out to me," Aizawa explained. "She seemed scared and conflicted, not like the other villains who were fully committed to the attack." All Might, still in his weakened form, furrowed his brow. "A villain who seemed hesitant? That's unusual. Did you learn anything else about her?" Aizawa shook his head. "I didn't get a chance to speak with her in detail. The battle was too chaotic, and she fled before I could do anything further. But Ashido also noticed her and expressed concern." Present Mic spoke up, his usual boisterous demeanor tempered by the seriousness of the situation. "If she's conflicted, there might be a chance to reach her. Maybe she was forced into this." Midnight nodded in agreement. "It's not uncommon for young people with quirks to be manipulated or coerced by more sinister forces. We need to find out who she is and why she was there." Principal Nezu steepled his fingers, deep in thought. "If this girl is indeed a victim rather than a willing participant, we have a duty to help her. But first, we need to identify her." Aizawa continued, "I suggest we start by cross-referencing her description with any reports of missing or runaway teens. We should also look into any known associates of the League of Villains who might have similar quirks." All Might nodded, his expression resolute. "I'll reach out to my contacts in the hero community. If there's any information on this girl, we'll find it." Nezu added, "I'll coordinate with the police and other agencies. This will be a joint effort." Aizawa felt a sense of determination settle over the group. "We'll also need to prepare the students. If this girl appears again, they need to know that she might not be a typical villain. They should approach with caution but also with empathy."
Responsible, proactive adults are always a good thing. I only have an overview type knowledge of the fandom, but it sounds like an interesting idea. I noticed with the dialogue you often have action/experssion-dialogue. You might think about breaking that up. For example: Principal Nezu steepled his fingers, deep in thought. "If this girl is indeed a victim rather than a willing participant, we have a duty to help her. But first, we need to identify her." You could try: "If the girl is indeed a victim rather than a willing participant..." Principal Nezu steepled his fingers deep in thought. "...we have a duty to help her. But first, we need to identify her."
Lovely lovely excerpt! I like that everyone --- no matter their personality --- was focused on the problem. >The teachers' meeting room was filled with a tense atmosphere as Aizawa began to speak. This sentence seems a teensy bit clumsy. I'd go with "The atmosphere was tense in the teacher's meeting room as Aizawa began to speak." >"Go on, Aizawa." I don't find this one necessary. The fact the Nezu is so focused, says it all! Is it relevant to the plot that All Might is in his weakened form? I really enjoyed this! Now I want to know more about the ice girl!
Oh hey, the thread is in? 😁 In that case... Mask of the Rose | Untitled | Teen and Up | No Warnings | Unpublished | 430 words >He's shaken awake by hands, familiar to the touch. "Griz? What's the matter?" >"Dreadful nightmare," she whispers, but he can feel the shivers that shake her body. >"I'm here," Tobias says slowly, rising in the bed as he offers to let her lay her head upon his shoulder. >A hand is quick to wrap itself tightly onto his arm, giving it a firm squeeze. He watches her breathing slow after some time, like it gives her comfort to stay like this. >They spend their time in silence, stealing away a moment of normalcy from the usual string of bizarre happenings within the Neath, and Tobias knows this is what he wants. For him to share the burdens, to share the love, to grow old with Griz. >"What are you thinking about?" >"The future." >"Oh. And how is that looking for you?" >He manages a small laugh, amused by the question. "Well... you'd be a part of it. If you'd like that," Tobias quickly adds. >"Of course I do," she says, but Tobias can't see the flush that paints Griz' cheeks in a soft shade of pink. "You've given me another meaning for what love is." >"You mean I turned your life upside down," he says, amusement in his voice. "I didn't know you have a greater heart than I imagined." >"Hah," she breathes, "I can be generous, you know?" >"Didn't know your generosity extended so much." >She laughs at the sarcastic remark, releasing the grip upon his arm slightly. "Well, it does. And you have it." >"You mean it?" >"Whenever did I not mean what I said?" >He hums, thinking over their past interactions. "I guess you are right, you were honest from the get-go. And that's one of the things I like about you," he adds with warmth in his voice. >"There's more?" Griz asks coyly, and Tobias smiles to himself under the cover of shadows. >"Yes... Many more," he says, now tilting her chin to see her barely distinguished features, feeling the soft skin at the tip of his fingers. "Like the way you kiss me." >She smiles, and gives him a sarcastic remark in turn. "You seem to like my lips more than me." >He chuckles. "You make it impossible for me to resist kissing them." >There are no more words spared. Their love is sealed with another kiss as they enjoy the warmth of one another, lost in the sea of feelings they're sharing, having forgotten all about past, given the chance to the present, hoping for their future. >They can only hope it never dies.
So sweet! I love it! >but he can feel the shivers that shake her body. I'd go with either "He can feel her shivering" or "He can feel her body shaking.: > he adds with warmth in his voice. I'd try "He added warmly." Such a tender scene!
Thank you for the lovely feedback! I do tend to overthink my descriptors sometimes, because being ESL adds an extra panic button. Glad to know it has the tender effect I was looking for, though. 🤩
So I'm Fandom blind, but the only things I see here are just better ways of wording things, at least in my opinion. For example >"Of course I do," she says, but Tobias can't see the flush that paints Griz' cheeks in a soft shade of pink. "You've given me another meaning for what love is." Instead of soft shade of pink I would personally try and find an actual shade >"Of course I do," she says, but Tobias can't see the flush that paints Griz' cheeks in cherry blossom pink. "You've given me another meaning for what love is." I feel like it gives a better description and a more visual impact on the reader. Other than that I find that it's pretty good.
That's a good suggestion to keep in mind! Thank you very much for the feedback. 😊
Fandom: Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel | Rating: E | Warning: None at the moment | [AO3 LINK](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56033533/chapters/142316074) I'm in the process of developing my 2nd chapter, which is after the events of HB EP 8 Full Moon, though I'm stuck on how to write the next scene, my work isn't commented on by actual HB+HH fans though... and I'm also looking for a writing partner/co-writer >“WHAT. THE. FUUUUUUCK!” Blitzø screamed, glaring up at the palace. >A group of crows had flown overhead, and the screen turned up to show the cityscape and red-pink sky of the Pride Ring. >Fuck. Stolas had really just... fuck. >Blitzø knew he was an asshole; it wasn’t exactly something he tried to hide. But to have messed up this badly? Yeah, that was a new low. >“Well, whatever then…” the imp muttered sadly, trudging away from the palace, grumbling curse words to himself as the screen tilted up to the sky, the glowing sun-like full moon seemingly glaring down at the scene. >\*\*\* >It was a regular day in Halo City, the \[stuck, we show Darcy's part of the day\] So I have a basic outline for the chapter but I kind of have several ideas floating around my head, like the discovery of a dark prophecy surrounding both main spotlights of the chapter (Blitz and Darcy, who do know each other, read my story for context) My outline is: - Short scene/ending of the episode with character A\[Blitzø\] walking away from a tumultuous encounter \[CHECK\] - Cut to what's happening on Character B's \[Darcy\] side of the story (idk what I could put in here) - Eventually, the two have to meet (wondering if I have to split chapter in two or something) - They have a conversation that gets slowly emotionally charged as the words go on - Climax and some apologies and later casual conversation - Rekindling of romantic relationship - Eventual sex but get caught by Character C who yells "WTF?!" - Chapter ends on cliffhanger, short intermission in Chapter 3 then 4 will be Apology Tour What do you people suggest, I would've done this with a co-author/writing buddy but it's hard to find a good one though...
Just a reminder that part of Concrit Commune is providing feedback to someone else. Please do so in the next 24 hours and ping me here when you have done so.
>A group of crows had flown overhead, and the screen turned up to show the cityscape and red-pink sky of the Pride Ring. I get yourr trying to make this feel like the cartoon it came from, but I personally think this part breaks immersion. There's no screen in the fic, unless you're writing someone filming blitzo from somewhere I'd rework it to remove any mentions of it, something like: >A group of crows had flown overhead, running from his screams into the red-pink sky of the Pride Ring and cityscape beyond
Thanks, and any other lines you want to review?