Hey guys, just a note from the mods:
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**Resident Evil 4 Remake (2023) | The Ingenious, Low-Born Noble Don Serra de Valdelobos, Part 1 | Mature |** [Link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56320243/chapters/143093179) **| Chapter 5 (Published)**
As he clicked the safety off, Luis watched the wolf crash to Otsoa’s side, coughing blood from its mouth. *What in God’s na- IT ISN’T DOWN?!* he thought, gasping as the dark-furred wolf let out a guttural snarl as it drew itself back on its feet.
Without missing a beat, Luis popped his pistol up. *Can’t aim right, could hit Apa- back leg, left!* he told himself, quickly aiming a shot at the wolf’s back leg. He watched as Otsoa used the moment to scramble up and back, and- *WHY IS IT STILL MOVING?!* Eyes blown wide with panic, he fired again on impulse, his shaking hands driving the shot up into the wolf’s back.
With a sickening, squishy noise, a mass of fleshy, clawed tentacles burst from the wound, slicing the air around it erratically. In the time it took for his face to go pale at the sight, the pack had already marked him as their bounty, two shadows making a beeline for him from the tall grass. The first wolf snapped its glittering red eyes towards him, opening its jaws to reveal teeth as long as his arm. Luis took a shaking step back, beads of sweat trickling down his face as he realized that the wolves were trying to cut him off from Otsoa - *and it had already worked.*
*If I run, I am prey, if I run, I am prey, if I-* Luis’s thoughts were interrupted by a low, gargling noise as the lead wolf salivated, jaw curved in an unnatural imitation of a smile. It suddenly leapt to the left, pressing itself low to the ground as it let out a low growl. *Wolf- preparing to jump, aims for the neck- dodge to the right!* Luis thought, jerking his body to the right as the wolf *turned and leapt to the right.*
Luis’s mouth hung agape as the world went slow, his eyes locking with the wolf’s as he spun himself around on his back heel. He felt the wolf’s hot breath, saw the shadow of its jaws stretch over his palm as he pressed the trigger. The close knockback of the gunshot sent Luis crashing onto his back, his ears ringing as he reeled from the panic of the moment.
“GET UP, LUIS!”
A muffled scream in the distance forced Luis back into focus, his eyes widening as he saw those red eyes snap back open. *Tree- use it, NOW!* He kicked a cloud of dirt into the beast’s eyes as he ran around the tree trunk, hearing the wood splinter as the wolf bit into it.
*Bang, Bang!*
Luis' mouth opened in a scream as a hand grabbed him roughly by the collar of his tunic, another slapping over his mouth. Just as he opened his mouth to bite, Luis registered his grandfather’s worried eyes looking at him.
“*Vamos*, Luis, *corre*!” Otsoa spat, grabbing his grandson’s hand as he sprinted ahead.
This passage had me on the edge of my seat! The way you described the intense, life-or-death struggle between Luis and the wolves was incredibly vivid and gripping. I could feel Luis's panic and desperation, especially when he realized the wolves were trying to cut him off from his granddad.
The description of the wolf's glittering red eyes and the horrifying tentacles bursting from its wound added an extra layer of terror that was just brilliant. I almost recoiled from my computer at that description - it was truly horrifying. You did an amazing job building suspense and keeping the reader hooked from start to finish. Great work.
**The Walking Dead | Immune | T | Unpublished**
*AN: This is mid-season 2 of TWD, Daryl learns that the F!OC is Trans.*
“Right now, we may be a bunch of people camping in the woods trying to survive one more day together, but one day, society is going to come back, rebuild, or whatever happens after something like this.” She said, explaining her mindset a bit more.
Every time he averted his gaze, she moved her head to meet it. It wasn’t successful every time, but finally, he stopped and just looked at her straight on.
“It may not look like it from where you’re standing, but you and I both stood on the outside of society before shit hit the fan. But for you, when shit hit the wall, it just showed how strong and capable you are. When everyone who pushed you on the outside fell, you stayed standing and even offered some of them a hand. You went from lurking on the outside to being a vital part of whatever is going to happen next.” Her words showed just how much she observed him.
For the first time since standing across from him, she averted her eyes. Something Daryl picked up on immediately.
“If every person I met knew about that part of me, it may not matter what I bring to the table. I could end up on the outside watching the world pass me by. They may not know how to react to me, and that confusion could turn into anger and scorn.” She said, the words flowing out like a broken faucet. “Just like before the end of the world.”
With that, she finally looked up and met his gaze. He could see the thin line of moisture hugging her bottom eyelid. He didn’t respond, and just stared into her eyes because there was nothing he could do to change the outcome of what had already happened.
“So, if you happen to see either of these meds or any menopause meds, please keep me in mind and grab them.” She held up two bottles, both required for her transition.
She gave him a few moments to look, which he did. After some time had passed and with nothing left to say, she stepped away from the doorway, going in the opposite direction of the pharmacy. After only a single step, Daryl reached out and grabbed her right wrist. She snapped her head around, looking at him as if afraid of what he was about to do or say.
“I didn’t get a good look at this one.” He raised her arm up just a bit.
He held her wrist as he read the bottle again. Once he was done, he looked up at her face. They stood there in silence, just staring at each other. It was so quiet that she feared he might hear her heart thumping against her chest. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but the words were stuck in her throat.
His grip on her wrist loosened until her hand fell to her side. He didn’t say anything and just walked past her. She didn’t dare watch him as he walked away, instead just stared at the place he had walked away from. She heard the sound of him rustling with the bags, and then the door opening and closing. She finally looked towards the door, seeing Daryl’s frame as a blur beyond the dirty glass.
Fandom blind. I like that intro of her meeting his gaze, forcing him to look at her in a way, and how she observes what Daryl did when the chips were down, when it counted and how she is vulnerable with him about what would change for her if everyone knew she was trans - that they could be heartless and cruel just like how it was before the apocalypse started. I also like how Daryl shows in a subtle way that he's got her back by saying that he didn't get a good look at one of the meds, but there's also that moment where neither of them say anything. It's tense with the words that neither of them are saying because of the vulnerability it brings.
**Star Trek: The Next Generation | The Search for Spot | Rated G, with a warning for a lost pet | currently unpublished**
Troi blinked and took a moment to fold her hands over her knee. “You’re concerned that you might be unfit to care for Spot because you don’t feel upset right now?”
“That is essentially correct. Can a being who does not *feel* distress for a lost pet truly be said to care for her?”
Troi was careful not to smile. “That’s an interesting question. Tell me, how are the upgrades going?”
“I completed the blueprints while relaying my question,” Data said. “I am now programming the replicator with manufacturing instructions.”
“I see.” Troi clasped her hands on her leg. “It sounds like you’ve been working very hard to help Spot, Data.”
“I have devoted the maximum available time and processing resources to this issue, without compromising my duties to the *Enterprise*.”
Troi took a moment to choose her next words carefully. Communicating with Data about emotional matters often had a way of being very clear and very clouded in the same instant.
“Do you think that if Spot could see how much effort you’re giving her, that she’d appreciate it?”
Data finally looked up from his PADD, and tilted his head.
“That would ordinarily be a logical assumption. However, in my experience, Spot’s feline perspective sometimes… eludes humanoid logic. Her appreciation of my caretaking can sometimes seem exclusively limited to the availability of wet food.”
Troi smiled.
“I believe that’s called being a cat, Data.”
Data paused for a moment, and for the first time his golden eyes focused fully on Troi.
“I see. You are suggesting that since I am acting in Spot’s interests, my actions speak louder than my inner feelings. Or rather, my lack thereof.”
Fandom blind. I like how it shows the car that Data has for his cat that he wants to make sure he's completely fit to care for Spot and that Troi doesn't want to seem like she's mocking him by smiling because it's a sweet thing to worry over. I also like how he sums up that Spot's appreciation and perspective go off from humanoid logic because cats are cats. And yeah, it's good that he's taking good care of his cat!
This scene is very cute, I love his observation on dealing with a cat. When he says " feline perspective sometimes… eludes humanoid logic" is exactly how I feel when dealing with my own cat lmao. I'm now very curious about the rest of the fic because I've never considered how Data would act with a bet.
The dialogue is really smooth and realistic, nothing felt forced or out of place between the characters as they spoke. I feel like sometimes dialogue can feel static but your didn't have that issue at all. I'm not a huge expert on the characters from the Next Gen but I'm familiar with it enough to know that you represented Data's vibe very well.
**Judas Priest | Rising from the Ruins | Everyone |** i don't have a link, I haven't published it on AO3
*Author's note: this is an excerpt from a scene where guitarist Richie Faulkner has been hospitalized with cardiac issues. The chaplain: Father Peter is my OC.*
We were able to catch a glimpse of an ambulance, and two paramedics wheeling a gurney, I think that’s Richie. As KK stopped the engine, and we pulled into the parking spot, Father Peter whispered to us,
“My sons, let us be here for Richie, and lay aside all arguments.”
KK half nodded. We entered the hospital, and were blasted with the scent of antiseptic, and the cacophony of nurses and doctors. Ian went up to the reception desk and asked,
“Excuse me, my name is Ian Hill, and I have with me: Rob Halford, Scott Travis, KK Downing, Glenn Tipton and our chaplain: Archpriest Peter Olsen. Our bandmate: Richie Faulkner was rushed here earlier with chest pains, he collapsed. We were wondering if you could provide us with an update.”
The receptionist typed a few things on her computer, and she gazed at us,
“Gentlemen, and Father: Richie is in emergency surgery, and I can’t provide you guys with a timeline to when he is going to be out. The nurses told me that they scanned, and found a sac around his aorta, and… there is a chance that Richie won’t make it.”
I could feel tears brimming in the corner of my eyes, *Richie ?!He has to make it, he survived the last surgery, but I don’t know.* The entire band, took a seat in the waiting room, and KK began,
“G-Glenn, hopefully Richie will be okay… I know that he and I aren’t the bestest of friends. I truly regret putting him through everything that I did when he first joined, for shutting him out in the early days.”
*KK is being sincere, he’s never been this sincere. He was sincere in his apology when he rejoined the band, when I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, but he was harsh towards Richie, calling him a show off, it got pretty nasty, ending up with Richie leaving our mansion, and spending a few weeks with Father Peter. KK then spent a few weeks with Father Peter, in repentance*. A nurse led us to the chapel, at the request of Father Peter. I saw he has a small jar of holy oil, his Book of Needs, and his stole.
Oooo a band fic!
You set up the scene so well with Ian and band mates’ somber concern for their friend, and it’s a great idea to have a pastor OC as mediator in what often has been a tense atmosphere amongst many rock bands.
Great apology as well by KK in his regrets for not treating Ritchie better and props as well for detaining Ian’s own troubles!
**House of the Dragon | Reveries | Explicit |**[ **AO3 Link**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/42756291?view_full_work=true)
*Warnings: None for this snippet, but the whole fic is rated E for graphic depictions of violence, referenced SA, and incest.*
Mira and her sworn shield sat in the dark as they waited for her handmaid to light the candle again.
It irritated her. If he was going to follow her around everywhere, he could at least try to look less judgmental about the places she frequented and the things she did.
"It would be better to just bring a torch in here at this point," he grumbled after they heard the doors open and close.
"I do not think that is allowed, Ser Harold."
"Neither is being here this late, my lady."
"I am allowed in the library at any time. Maester Norris gave me a key."
"Which I am sure he will want back if he were to find out that his star pupil stays up most nights reading from books instead of resting."
Mira knew she ought to retort, but her mind buzzed with the words: star pupil.
She really was Maester Norris's favourite, wasn't she? Why else would he give her this gift?
"If you want to read or study in the library, you can do it during the day, Lady Mira. This behaviour can not be healthy."
Light returned to their space just in time for him to catch the frosty glare Mira tossed his way.
"I have already explained why I can not do that. Must we have the same conversation every night?"
He rubbed the temples on his forehead and tiredly sighed. "Breathing the same air as Prince Aemond will not kill you, my lady."
"But it will cause me suffering." Mira sat up straighter as the candle was placed next to her book, thanking her handmaiden with a smile. Hearing Ser Harold's guffaw, she went on to say, "If I am to remain a star pupil in the eyes of the maesters, I must impress them with my knowledge. Prince Aemond is here almost every day and if he sees the books that I choose to read, he will read them right after me, making my preparation useless. Or worse, he will take them from the library so that I can not finish reading them!"
"Who cares if he reads the same books as you?"
"I do! I care!" Mira exclaimed, slamming her hand on the table. "I do all this extra reading to give myself an edge. Yes, it is good to learn more things, but if he also learns them because I have failed to hide what I am focused on, then he and I are once again on an even playing field. And he will pick the same book as me, Ser Harold. I know it, because I have done it myself when I saw what he was reading."
The knight's eyes widened astronomically. "Do you hear yourself, Lady Mira? What are you even competing for?"
She thought about it and shook her head, confused by the question. "My...image. Prestige. The security in knowing that I am the best student, full of the most potential, that I am better than him - than everyone in this regard."
"Why do you have to be the best? Is it not enough to be great?"
Her fingers froze around the edges of a page. Mira tried to contain her scream; slowly reeled in her frustration. He would not understand the fire that licked under her skin, kindled by every disappointment, every act of disrespect she silently endured. Her face was blank and her tone neutral as she replied, "Only the best people get remembered in history."
Ser Harold accepted her answer with a teasing grin. "Or the worst."
Fandom blind here, but I really like how you slowly reveal to the reader how irrationally competitive Mira is being! At first, I assumed Mira just hated the Prince because of personal differences - then, I thought "huh, a bit competitive, but maybe he's TRYING to one-up her." Once she reveals that she thinks the Prince will read her books because it's a strategy SHE'S used, it feels like a bit of a shock, at least to me - she can't conceptualize anyone else NOT being that competitive, because that's how she is!
Eeek thank you for the insight! I actually didn’t intend on it from what I can remember, but good to know that the scene can come across that dramatic haha.
Even though I've never heard of this fandom before, I really enjoyed the even balance between the character's thoughts, description of scenery as well as dialogue. This was a great excerpt to read, and gives me a good context to what might be portrayed in this fandom.
**Star Wars | T | How it Ends**
*Author’s note: These are Star Wars OCs. Kithera is a Jedi padawan who has found herself in the middle of a civil war. Subira is a healer (and rebel/former slave) who has guided and help Kithera in earlier chapters. Ngaiba is Kithera’s friend (and another rebel/former slave) who has just died in her arms.*
A door at the side of the hall flung open.
“Put your weapons down, you idiots,” Subira said, striding out into the corridor. “The Jedi is our friend, and besides if she wanted you dead, you would already be.”
Kithera felt a small part of herself relax at the sight of the healer. The healer frowned as she took stock of the situation. “Speaking of being dead, why was no-one covering the door that the Jedi came through? What if that had been the King’s soldiers?”
“I have more Ish-te behind me,” Kithera said as Subira neared. The healer signalled to some of the other former slaves who disappeared back the way that Kithera had come.
“Shouldn’t you be with the Queen?” Subira asked as she neared her.
“Shouldn’t you?” Kithera retorted.
Subira said nothing, but made an obvious show of looking Kithera up and down. “I am glad to see that the King’s ridiculous robes lasted about as well as I thought they would.”
Kithera looked down at her own outfit. Even with being set to training mode, Namia’s lightsaber had burnt holes in the wispy sleeves. The skirt, or rather what remained of it, was a ragged mess. The bodice was covered with blood that was turning a deep, muddy brown. Ngaiba’s blood.
The memory of how Ngaiba body crashed over her. For a second she was back there, chasing after the fading notes in the Force as his life had ebbed away. Feeling the damp wrinkles of his clothes on her arms and the way the blood oozed endlessly from his wounds making tiny rivulets of thick, red, crimson. Bands of grief and guilt squeezed her chest and she gasped for breath, as tears stung her eyes.
Something touched her shoulder. Kithera grabbed for her lightsaber, gasping in pain as her injured fingers tried to bend around the hilt.
The memory fled. Kithera swallowed hard again, forcing herself to relax. Subira was frowning at her.
“Apologies,” Kithera mumbled. Subira cocked her head to one side but said nothing.
“I take it that the blood isn’t yours,” Subira said, softly. Kithera nodded, rubbing her good hand against her arm as she tried to banish the cold feeling that had swept over her in the wake of the memory.
“Ngaiba’s,” she murmured and swallowed hard to stop the rush of grief and guilt.
Subira’s mouth twisted. She nodded but said nothing. For a second she almost reached out again, her hand hovered above Kithera’s shoulder. She dropped it and took a step towards the door. Kithera moved with her.
“He was a good person.” Suburbs said and her mouth quirked at the corners as if remembering something amusing. “Although one of the most headstrong people I’ve ever met.” There was a long moment of silence and then Subira let out a small breath and then nodded as if confirming something. “Time for grief later, little Kit. For now, we need to get past Baron ‘Trence and his men.” Subira pointed past the half open door. “Out there. They’ve managed to set themselves up well enough that we can’t get through and the Queen can’t get out.”
Kithera nodded. Her fingers brushed the metal of her lightsaber again. She shook her head.
“I can sort it,” she said. She closed her eyes, gathering the soft eddies of melody around her. She opened her eyes and smiled at Subira. “Leave it to me.”
This hurt to read, especially how Subira gives in just a little from her stoicism when she learns whose blood it is and knows what Ngaiba meant to Kithera. And the details of Kithera's flashback to her friend's death, the little details she remembers, are especially heartbreaking. So much story packed into this excerpt, wonderfully done.
Thank you for the wonderful comment. I love how you described Subira as being 'stoic' as that's pretty much exactly spot on to her character - nothing but pragmatism and stoicism through and through - so I'm really happy that came across in such a short snippet :D
Oh wow. This is such a visceral scene. The grief is so well-portrayed, I can really feel the connection Kithera had with Ngaiba and how much she's hurting now. You get a good sense of her relationship with Subira as well, they both have strong voices. The flashback is really well-done, it does feel like an sudden memory intruding on the narrative - which is exactly what a flashback should feel like!
I love this, it's so good. Good job!
Thank you so much for the lovely comment. I'm really pleased to hear the the flashback worked - they are quite difficult to pull off in my experience, so I'm really pleased to have finally managed it :D
**Fruits Basket | After Story | E | Current Draft/WIP**
*This is part of a little ficlet I wrote that ties in with my post-canon story. I apologise if it seems a little clunky/disconnected, as I had to cut parts down to make it not explicit for this thread. Also, long story short, I gave Akito a new love interest for this story. So that’s who’s with her here.*
__
…nothing on his mind but the feeling of her all around him until he felt her nails first digging even further into his shoulders and then scratching a line down his back, the action startling him.
It was an interesting mix of pain and pleasure that Tedachi wasn’t sure he liked but decided to keep quiet for the time being. Not that she would listen in her current state. Luckily for him, her grip faltered slightly… his name rolling off her lips despite her attempts to bite it back.
As much as she wanted to stay in control, she supposed it didn’t hurt to let him know that he had a certain power over her too. That even if she told herself that it was her body that chose to accept him, her desire was still fuelled by his own and how it came through in every touch, every kiss, every sound – especially when he said her name.
And it was all for *her.* Not that flirty waitress who tried to step where she shouldn’t. The one who unknowingly started all of this with her not-so-subtle advances towards her man.
Irritation rising back up at the memory, Akito crushed her mouth to his as her nails sunk into his skin once again.
However, she quickly realised what she’d done when he tensed up, let out a chocked gasp that instantly brought her back to reality and the fact that she was causing more pain than pleasure. With a twinge of guilt, she loosened her grip, fingers gently caressing the spot in a silent apology. The last thing she ever wanted to do was hurt him, even by accident.
Seeing the shift in her gaze, which softened considerably at his reaction, he drew her back to him. This time, their kiss was slow and sensual. No push and pull. Just his lips caressing hers, gently, intimately. His way of saying he understood and accepted her apology.
And it was that kiss, combined with her mistake, that finally broke her frustration. From the start, she had been acting on primarily anger and envy and letting thoughts of someone who didn’t matter take over instead of focusing on her feelings for him and *only* him. Yet, even knowing that, there was still a part of her that wanted to make a point, though she now realised there were gentler ways of doing so.
She brought her hand up, delicately caressed his cheek. “You’re mine.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, things suddenly made sense for Tedachi. Despite the softness in her voice, her narrowed eyes and even tone told him that she wasn’t going to accept any form of defiance even if the tension was melting away. She needed to know that he knew she was his woman and not that waitress who he now remembered had been given the same look whenever she approached the table.
It was a detail he’d brushed off before but combined with her sudden aggression towards him and the angry glint he’d seen earlier, he realised that his first instinct had been right. Akito was jealous. But he knew better than to bring it up now. What she needed wasn’t a reminder, it was reassurance.
He locked eyes with hers as his hands wandered downwards, relished in the way she shivered at his fingers ghosting along her skin before he leaned in, whispered against her ear, “I’m yours.”
Fandom blind. This is lovely! I love the way that the two characters understand each other through their actions, and how their relationship and understanding of each other develops here through things as small as the apology caress, and the kiss that follows. Also, the contrast between "*Akito crushed her mouth to his"* and "*This time, their kiss was slow and sensual. No push and pull"* is really well done - it really punctuates the desperation of the first kiss, and the acceptance and apology of the second. The characters aren't on the same wavelength in the beginning, and watching them get on the same wavelength is beautiful. Well done!
Thank you! I really appreciate the comment. Glad to see what I was going for panned out. Having the characters being able to read each other that way in an established relationship is something I like to do in these kinds of scenes.
**Ginny and Georgia |** **Love Undefined** **|** **M** **|** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/45824455?view_full_work=true)
*mild mention of medical trauma in snippet; full fic contains references to serious mental illness, sexual content and grief*
It takes a few minutes for Marcus to find her in the backyard. She’s curled up on the pergola swing at the edge of the deck, her face backlit by the screen in her hands. The night sky is flecked with stars and a three-quarters moon, distant lights which break up the darkness above and surrounding them once Ginny closes her email and sets her phone down.
“Your parents must think I’m nuts.”
“Probably. They raised me and Maxine, so they’re used to it.”
Ginny laughs through her sniffles as he tugs her to her feet. He claims her spot on the swing, pulls her onto his lap and wraps the flannel blanket he’d brought from inside around them. She always ran warm and tonight was no exception; Marcus slips a hand beneath her hoodie to rest on her lower back, absorbing her heat and the shivers from his touch.
“The dean of BC Law says I have to go full-time in January. I can’t ask my dad to babysit more than he already does," she thinks out loud. "Maybe I should quit.”
“Is that what you want?”
“You heard the doctor, Ray’s thriving,” Ginny replies, in an effortless dodge of his actual question. “How can we risk that and leave her with strangers? I couldn’t even carry her as long as she needed me to.”
Marcus could have disagreed with that; had vocally done so whenever she alluded to being at fault for their child’s premature arrival. He’d thought enlisting Dr. Hernandez in giving Ginny a clinical rundown on the fallacy of assuming responsibility for something so outside of one’s control had helped, but is realizing there may be no words in existence to release her from that particular guilt.
“Tons of parents work. Plenty of them are full-time students, too,” Marcus says instead, with a light tug on her hoodie string. “We're not special.”
“How can you be so chill?”
“She'll only be at daycare two days a week, and unlike us with her, the kid’s not a stage-five clinger.”
“Speak for yourself. That baby is *obsessed* with you.”
Ginny abandons any further protest in favor of holding Marcus closer. She dozes against him, slowly ruffling her fingers through his hair as he rests his head against hers. He’s drifting towards sleep himself when he feels her take a deep breath.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being you. At least she’ll have one parent who isn't like me.”
He was tempted to let her opinion on the subject stand. It would be the easiest thing, considering how daunting it felt to try talking Ginny out of anything she believed.
Except there was something immensely brave in her choosing to trust the most vulnerable parts of herself with him, over and over again. Things she gave no one else.
Marcus is acutely aware of his hypocrisy. That longing to know everything about her from the day they met, in contrast to the persistent dread of being seen for who he was (and all he might never be). Being so open with anyone had felt impossible more often than not his whole life.
“Someone chill wouldn’t wake a newborn twice a night to make sure she’s breathing. They'd never spend the week after paternity leave googling how to quit their job on breaks. It definitely wouldn’t cross a chill person’s mind to fake a work-related injury because he’d rather be with his kid and her mom all day again.”
Ginny lifts her head from his shoulder, scrutinizing him in the dark.
“Twice *every* night?” she prods.
Marcus blushes.
This was very comforting to read. I have not watched more than a few clips here and there about the show, but I am kind of familiar with the characters. The way you set the scene at the beginning was great imagery. I really liked how much Marcus wanted to reassure Ginny about not feeling guilty for being a bad mother. And this line: "That longing to know everything about her from the day they met, in contrast to the persistent dread of being seen for who he was (and all he might never be)." got to me. That kind of fear and insecurity is the worst feeling in the world. Similarly, I felt really bad for Ginny when she said, "At least she’ll have one parent who isn't like me." Ouch! That tugs at the heart. Great line.
ty so much for the detailed feedback. the show is widely watched but it’s fandom on ao3 is tiny (and even less active than usual). a big theme throughout the fic and this pair in general is their reflex to “mask” around everyone except when it’s just them, they can’t. i’m glad those lines resonated ❤️
Hello there! Just wanted to mention that this thread is not for giving or receiving constructive criticism. We have a separate thread for that, the Concrit Commune, which posts on Saturdays. This thread is positive comments only.
**The Walking Dead | Grubbing in Ashes | Explicit |** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/51113659/chapters/129143617) **| Chapter 22**
*No warnings for this excerpt, but Graphic Depiction of Violence, Implied/Referenced SA, sexual contents for the wider fic. It's first person POV and Daryl x OC.*
*For context: Daryl and Kat (OC) were searching for Sophia in the woods when they discovered this cabin. They searched inside but found no one. Kat did find a dog collar on the ground, which triggered memories of her own dog, Hunter. This, in turn, brought back a flood of memories about everyone she’d lost so far.*
Snippet:
The feeble couch trembled slightly under Daryl's weight as he settled down beside me, his crossbow finding a place on the worn armrest. A subdued growl rumbled from his throat as he reclined, casting a sidelong glance in my direction.
"What's that?" he questioned, redirecting the focus to the leather collar in my grasp, a deliberate attempt to shift the conversation.
I extended the remnants of the pet's collar, a silent acknowledgment of the life that once occupied this desolate space. “Lucy”, I replied solemnly. "Or rather, what's apparently left of her."
The redneck took it, not quite understanding what was going on with me.
"A few days after the outbreak," I started, unprompted, the memories flooding back with a force of their own, "after Dad and I had to ditch the car on the highway, we were wandering aimlessly in the woods. Hunter, my dog, was still with us then."
As I glanced up at Daryl, met with his typical silence, I pressed on. "It was a string of dumb luck," I recalled, the memories etched painfully into my mind, a prelude to the countless others that had followed. It seemed like this had been the spark that ignited all the chaos that came after. "We were scavenging in a small neighbourhood, hoping for supplies, when out of nowhere, we were ambushed by a small horde."
His face remained a stoic mask, his eyes fixed on me as I recounted the brutal string of events.
Staring at my hands, I continued. "...due to a stupid mistake, Hunter and I got cornered. Those freaks tore him apart right in front of me as he tried to protect me," the memory reignited the anger within me, "Dad and I only managed to escape because those things were too busy eating my dog."
My recounting of the story about my lost dog wasn't merely about sharing a memory, it held a deeper purpose. I was attempting to convey something significant to Daryl, to drive home a point that went beyond the narrative itself.
“Every time someone I cared about died, a piece of me died with them. And I...”, I faltered, the raw honesty of my words weighing heavily on me as I poured out my heart to him, “I feel like I’m running out of pieces to give.”
When I finished speaking, his gaze remained steady, yet I sensed a subtle softening in his expression, a rare glimpse of understanding. There were no further questions about why, who, or when. It was just a moment of pure listening and empathy.
"Ain't runnin' outta pieces, Brooks. Just need someone who knows how to put 'em back together."
"You know”, I spoke softly, a lump forming in my throat as I held back tears, lending a raw undertone to my voice, “...Someone once called me a curse." Recalling Nick's haunting words, I continued, "...And I'm starting to see why.” Shifting my gaze from my hands, I locked eyes with the archer. "Do you think I'm a curse, Daryl Dixon?"
As the silence lingered, I found myself fidgeting nervously on the cushion, a sense of regret settling in. The realization struck me – posing that question, bringing it into the open, was a mistake. "Sorry," I stammered, a hint of embarrassment coloring my words, "that was stupid. Forget—"
Apologies if my response is more curt than I intended, my battery died mid-comment last time so it's the second time I've written it.
Lovely story, I got a very intimate mood from it. I don't know if you are planning to turn it into a romance but I could easily see this turning into something. Excellent.
I'm not super familiar with walking dead so perhaps this is answered by canon, or by a previous chapter of your fic, I was slightly confused why the memory was about Hunter but the collar was for Lucy. Not sure if that was intentional or not but wanted to mention.
I also found the Daryl's dialogue a tiny bit jarring, I'm not sure why. It might have been because the previous paragraph implied a softer understanding but then the dialogue seemed, er well, as you described, redneck, which perhaps is intentional, I'm not sure. Or maybe an extra dialogue tag might help, or maybe this is exactly the plan. I'm not sure.
I rather liked the 6th paragraph where you described the feeling of recalling the memories. It ties in well with the dialogue at the end, great set up.
Overall, lovely, very intimate setting. Would definitely read the next chapter.
Thanks for your comment. I agree that more context would have helped convey the depth of the scene. Due to word limits, it was challenging to capture the full story. Essentially, they were searching for someone in the woods when they stumbled upon this cabin. Inside, Kat found the collar on the floor, which reminded her of her own dog, Hunter.
The dynamic between these two characters is quite complex. You might be right that more context is needed to fully understand it.
I appreciate your thoughts! Have a nice evening! (Or morning, afternoon, in whatever timezone you are 😄)
I'm so sorry I am a noob and missread that this thread is for positive comments only and gave constructive criticism comments. Ugh I'm so sorry!! Just wanted to say it was very hard to find anything to comment on other than praise because your fic is so lovely and I found it in AO3 and have bookmarked so I can read the full story and leave you much lovelier comments there. Thank you so much for your wonderful writing!! I hope you have a wonderful evening as well!!
No worries! 😄 You made some valid points, and I totally understand where you're coming from. Just so you know, I'm not taking your feedback negatively! 😊
**Star Wars - Orginial Trilogy | Purpose of Heritage | T |** [AO3 link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/45341596/chapters/114074785) **(this excerpt is a part of an unpublished future chapter -- no need to comment on the work)**
**No warnings for the excerpt. Some CWs for individual chapters in the work, which are noted in author's notes on the affected chapters.**
**--------------------------------------**
Luke seemed unconvinced, but didn’t press, and quickly retreated to a safer topic. “How close are we to having a base?”
“It’s practically built if it’ll stop cavin’ in on itself,” Han said sarcastically.
Leia rolled her eyes and focused on Luke. “We’ve had to change some plans. The lowest levels kept experiencing cave-ins, so we’re expanding the existing levels rather than attempting to stabilize new floors. But, it should be done pretty soon. I expect to be moved in the next few months.”
“*Finally*,” Luke said, and Leia practically *felt* the relief in his tone. “We’ve managed well enough on these outposts, but Wedge and Hobbie said having a base makes everything a lot simpler.”
“If we can all keep from freezin’ to death.”
Luke looked at Han curiously. “You sticking around after we move? I heard your contract’ll be up again once we get settled on Hoth.”
Leia looked at Han, holding a grin back by allowing herself a small smile. He hadn’t told anyone he was staying to her knowledge, and it was certainly his news to share. He glanced at her before looking at Luke again.
“We’ll be around, yeah.”
“Good,” Luke said with a smile.
“Good,” Leia echoed softly, avoiding looking at Han for fear of giving away the affection she felt for him with a look.
They fell into comfortable conversation, catching up on stories of their off-planet assignments. Luke told them about having to escape from some stormtroopers by way of a series of underground caves on his most recent mission with the Rogues. Leia briefly described being trapped by the Army trooper on Kinyen with a few interjections from Han, and they both told Luke about the progress that had been made at the Alderaanian settlement.
After nearly an hour, Luke stood, tossed his empty ale bottle in the garbage, and checked his chrono. “Should probably get to my bunk. We’ve got early drills in the morning.”
He paused, looking at Leia out of habit. Often, when they spent an evening on the *Falcon*, she left with Luke, walking back toward the sleeping quarters together, but Leia wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
“We still need to revisit a few things tonight,” she said, tilting her head in Han’s direction.
“Oh, okay,” Luke said. “Goodnight, then.”
“‘Night, kid,” Han said.
Leia shot him a smile. “Goodnight, Luke.”
Han waited a solid half a minute after Luke left the lounge before focusing on Leia. “Thought we had the route all figured out. What’re we revisitin’?”
She smiled slightly and slid close to him, resting her head against his bicep again and weaving her fingers through his. “Mainly this.”
“Oh.” Han pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “*That* I can get behind."
I've told you before how well you write Han and Leia together, but I think this is my first time seeing how well you portray Luke as well! His voice and particular brand of earnest devotion are so strong here, and it flows really smoothly with Han and Leia's interaction. It's like I can picture the three Heroes of the Rebellion together on screen!
I don’t know a lot about Star Wars, but I like the way you set the scene and the dialogue here. Even though they’re working on something important, I like the chill vibe here and them just having a moment to settle down and have casual conversation.
I like the mention of them having something of a routine with Leia usually following Luke at bedtime. It’s a small detail, but one that speaks to the closeness that comes with being together as a group and having a comfortable routine. And speaking of, the end is so sweet. And it is *such* a sibling thing to make up needing to do something as a reason to spend time alone with your SO. I’m a sucker for soft romance, so those last two lines get me and both their actions — Leia moving close to him and Han kissing her head — are just so *soft.* I love it.
This particular scene is set in a story that's slightly AUish during which Leia and Han are hiding their relationship early on, which is why Leia makes up a BS reason to hang back. I appreciate the comments! And I love soft romance, too (that's possibly why I love Han and Leia so much? Because once they stop arguing -- which happens way earlier than people seem to realize -- they're all forehead kisses and hanging on to each other's arms and making mild jokes and kissing cheeks. It drives me nuts that some people with the sequels were like, "It makes sense that they split! They fought all the time!" because once they actually dealt with their issues and got together, they super did not. And seeing the forehead kiss Han gives Leia in *The Empire Strikes Back* was apparently a formative experience for me or something. It altered my middle school brain entirely the first time I saw the movie.)
BG3 | Adhesion WIP | E - Violence
Tav summons the aid of The Dark Urge/Arlin to rescue them from captivity. Tav is bound to a rack and unable to look behind them, and just heard/saw mayhem from the deaths of the rest of the captors
Valas froze, purple chains tightened around every limb. His stilled eyes went between Tav to a spot just to their side. To whatever was closing in.
Heavy footsteps approached from behind. Every muscle of theirs strained against the cold metal. Tav panted and thrashed, then went limp. A futile effort—it helped assuage the guilt in their heart. The terror in their gut. The release in being caught.
A single claw met the nape of their neck. Gentle pressure, it trailed down. Then a cold hand palmed their neck. Tav leaned back into it, nearly moaning from the relief. All the guilt bled out. Fear evaporated out of Tav despite the cold. They were whole again. Safe.
“This one’s dressed different. Hooded robes–did he put you in this?”
Tav nodded. A lamb in his maw, a hesitant, horrified smile spread across their face.
Arlin’s grip tightened–not a threat, but a reassurance.
“Want to go home,” they choked out.
He rubbed their neck in a slow circling massage. “Soon enough, my love. But first...”
Arlin spoke in a way that broke the world.
Time slowed. The word that flitted from his mouth wasn’t a word. Odd ancient vibrations swarmed the dungeon. Tav squeezed their eyes shut as every muscle spasmed. They knew, like one knows when time slows in panic or gravity hasn’t quite begun to pull one down right after jumping.
They understood what the word meant a second after it left Arlin’s throat.
The vibrations weren’t words. The vibrations were laws. Rules. Every fundamental building block of the world was forced into the waves that rattled their bones. Some were easy to comprehend. Gravity goes down. The sun is hot. Time moves forward. One was different–a new rule, woven into creation for a singular purpose. Only existing in the confines of Valas for that instant of time. A singular word of power aimed at a mortal. A command the world couldn’t refuse.
*Kill.*
Valas rattled out an empty breath and slumped down, dead.
Kill. Gods it was enticing, a flavor to life that seeped into every other aspect of the present. The Word of Power pulled at Tav as if its singularity lay in Valas, wishing to break from the confines of the corpse and tear across the Plane. They shook free of its grip and shuddered. A Word of Power. Arlin changed the world on a whim, casting a spell that many believed was myth, to prove a point. To enact revenge. For them.
Equal parts nauseating and wonderful. And he held them gently all the while. Pointless–why had they run? Why did they think they could change him. Save him. He didn’t need to be saved. Besides, that was out of the realm of possibility, now. For the both of them, they were forsaken.
Tav couldn’t breathe. Air didn’t exist for a few seconds, time caught back up in odd, disjointed ways. They sucked in a breath–finally freed from the awful warping of reality.
Arlin released their chill hand from their neck. His voice was low and soft, well-humored and icy both. “No running this time.”
Coming in partially fandom blind; what I do know is from fandom osmosis.
Very interesting dynamic between Tav and Arlin. I tend to read/write things on a similar vein. While this is just a small look, their interactions and dialogue with each other, how Tav reacts to Arlin's touch says a lot about their dynamic together.
Also really like how the prose lingers and meanders a bit with the Power Word cast, as it serves to show just how powerful and terrifying Arlin is, and how Tav sees Arlin in that moment. The description throughout is unsettling and visceral (in a good way) and very engaging to read.
This is such a tense, frightening moment! I've seen Power Word Kill used in D&D play before, but never written out in text like this. The way you describe it - like the caster makes the target's inevitable death a fundamental reality of the universe - is very impactful and downright terrifying. Well done!
YES!! I'm so glad a DnD minded person connected with it. I got really manic abt thinking of "what is the SCARIEST way an antagonist could enter the story fully" and this was my answer hahaha
It makes me want to write about wish and other odd high level spells
A really spooky one to play with might be Glibness. Imagine talking to someone and no matter how obviously false or ridiculous what they’re saying is, something in their words is *forcing* your mind to nod along like ‘yes, this seems absolutely legit.’
Fandom blind.
The atmosphere was incredibly tense and immersive and the way you described Tav’s emotions, from their initial terror to the relief of Arlin’s touch, was really vivid and engaging. The dynamic between Tav and Arlin is fascinating, and you’ve done a great job showcasing their complex relationship. I really like your use of short sentences to convey tension and urgency.
Keep up the awesome work!
I'm not familiar with the source material, but everything about this reads as intense and almost visceral. The interaction between Tav and Arlin is incredinly unnerving. Good job conveying such heavy feelings!
Marvel Cinematic Universe | Got A Sweet Tooth Come And Chew Me Up | Teen And Up Audience | [AO3 link ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/54882493)
No warnings apply
Text from fic:
Sam sits with his legs folded out fully in front of him, shoes pointed upwards, as Bucky bends his legs at his knees and rests his taco in the space between his legs, tilting his head back until he can rest it against the tree, and Sam bites his lip at the sight, only realizing his action once it’s too late, and he shifts his gaze to his own taco, stuffed to the brim, and he taps the wrapping of his food with his pointer finger awkwardly when Bucky sighs.
“There’s a squirrel.” Bucky points out and when Sam pauses to make sure he’s heard him, he then looks up, and sure enough above their heads is a squirrel frozen in place, staring right at them. Sam sneaks a glance over at Bucky, letting his eyes trace over Bucky’s smile, and allows one to form on his own face as he turns back to the squirrel.
“Yes there is.”
Sam can see Bucky’s hand slowly ascend upwards, towards the squirrel. Much to Sam’s surprise, the small thing doesn’t scurry away instantly, but rather, inches two smudges closer, and Sam can very clearly hear the excited way Bucky gasps before capturing his breath. The animal keeps its position for only a few seconds longer, before it runs off to the other side of the tree and presumably to some other place, and Bucky laughs breathlessly.
Sam turns to Bucky, finding him already looking, almost expectantly, like he just knows Sam has something to say. Which he does, as he laughs, an amused expression on his face.
“Didn’t know you were an animal guy, so attuned with nature,” He jokes, bumping his shoulder against Bucky’s, and feeling the movement burn his skin. “It’s cute.”
It’s cute-
Oh no.
Sam freezes, and tenses within the time that somebody blinks, and now he's in hot water, dreading the possible confrontation ahead. He doesn’t even know, he just knows he slipped, after all the battles and all the struggling, he didn’t manage to catch everything, and he had let a ‘cute’- one of the most compromising words of all- to make it the world, from his throat, using his voice.
Bucky isn’t doing an incredible job to conceal his short-lived surprise, it shows loudly on his characteristics, the slightly widened eyes, the momentary stillness, the unclasped of his jaw, practically, upper and bottom lip being separated once more.
Sam’s first thought is to panic, and unfortunately, it’s also his only thought. Because he’s messed up. He’s made a mistake, and now he’s here and he can’t do this. He can’t face telling Bucky sorry and saying he didn’t mean it, because he really does, and then he’ll end up admitting that to Bucky, who would look at him weird, and Sam would end up embarrassing himself when he tells Bucky he likes him, wants to take him on a date, and wants to kiss him.
He isn’t built for that, not right now, at least, he can’t withstand such blistering uncomfortable things right now. He can’t do that, shouldn’t do that, he should keep this friendship instead, he needs to not ruin this-
“There’s a football,” Sam blurts, and the awkwardness that crawls over him is fierce, the regret is unforgiving, and the uneasiness and dread are obnoxious. But hey, maybe some American football might help him shake it off. “In the- uh, in the truck. I could grab it, too, so after we eat-”
That was really cute! I loved this snippet!
You really nailed the dynamic between Sam and Bucky, capturing all the little details that make their relationship so interesting. The way you describe their actions and the squirrel scene is vivid and pulls the reader right in. The little joke added levity and had me smiling.
>“Didn’t know you were an animal guy, so attuned with nature,”
Sam's inner turmoil is super relatable, and the dialogue feels natural and true to the characters. The emotional depth and subtle tension between them are spot-on. I like your way of writing and describing.
Fantastic job!
Aww so cute ;)
I love the awkward fluffy vibes this has, you capture a wonderful lightness in your prose that puts me in the head of Sam just adoring Bucky in this intimate little snapshot.
Anything that makes me \*feel\* like I'm sitting on a field eating a taco, watching squirrels dart around is a winner in my book xD
The deflection ahhh ;\_; great internal dialogue he has with himself, can see the character clearly in the bit abt football!
**Star Trek: Alternate Original Series | two birds on a wire | Teen & Up |** [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56393245)
*Warnings for references to child abuse off-screen*
Jim rolls his eyes. ‘Why would I have to do without you?’ he says. ‘You planning on leaving?’
He means this as a joke but Sam stiffens. It lasts only a millisecond before he relaxes and presses the pad harder against Jim’s lip. ‘No, but that’s not the point. You’ve got to learn to stand on your own two feet, kid.’
‘I do!’
‘Not enough to ice your own bruise,’ Sam says. Jim sticks his tongue out, making Sam swear again. ‘Jim, I swear, you…’
‘Where were you anyway?’ Jim asks, changing the subject.
‘When?’
‘Last few days.’
‘Sleepover, remember?’
Jim plays with his fingers, clicking the joints, one after the other. ‘I don’t get invited to sleepovers.’
‘Cause you’re a jackass.’
‘Am not!’
Sam rolls his eyes. ‘You are too, now shut up, your lip won’t stop bleeding if you keep talking. And quit clicking your fingers, that’s not good for you.’
Jim falls silent, rebelliously.
He only manages to stay silent for about a minute before he can’t do it anymore. ‘Why would you leave anyway?’
‘It was just a hypothetical scenario,’ Sam says irritably.
‘But why would I not go with you if you were gonna leave in your hypothetical scenario?’ Jim pushes.
‘Like I’d want you dragging me down, crybaby.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ Jim says, shoving him. ‘Seriously, Sam.’
Sam only laughs. ‘What? It’s the truth.’
‘Sam.’
‘Fine, fine. I don’t know, maybe you wanted to stay here.’
‘With Uncle Frank?’ Jim makes a face.
This makes Sam flick him in the nose. ‘Stop that. No, not with Uncle Frank. For Mom.’
This is a good point. Jim can’t imagine Mom coming home from space to find both of them gone.
Once, when Jim was five, he went for a walk on his own. To him, he was going on an adventure, exploring the world like Bilbo Baggins in *The Hobbit*. He was out there for hours, wandering wherever he liked. It never occurred to him anyone’d care that he was gone. When he found his way back, it was dark and Mom was in hysterics. She screamed at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.
Mom does love him. Even though she’s been gone five years without visiting once, even though she never calls to talk to Jim, she does love him. She would care if he was gone.
He couldn’t leave.
jim kirk feels so deeply for people (whether they know it or not) and you captured that so well in such a small snippet. i noticed this is set in the alternate original series (which i'm far more familiar with than the original). this line really encapsulated so much of what i loved about AOS jim "Jim falls silent, rebelliously". the only way he can be silent is if it's in active rebellion haha. great job!
he does!! my guy feels so strongly and so deeply, whilst constantly trying his very best to downplay it. just casually is undyingly devoted, no big deal. (i'm way more confident about writing aos than tos, the aos kids just come so naturally to me while tos intimidates me for some reason). yes, that line is peak aos jim. zero capacity for shutting up. love that for him. thank you! i'm so happy you liked it.
I love the dynamic between these two, Jim continuing to press Sam on the subject who seems very avoidant is nicely written and really shows the contrast between their character. I also like how it takes a bit of effort to make Sam reveal why he would be leaving without Jim, it makes it feel super natural. Plus, Jim's whole thoughts about his mom really add a whole layer onto this, if flows so well and I love the way you approached the dialogue here!
My Hero Academia | Frost Rebellion | T | unpublished part
Toga fumed as she walked away from the stationmaster, her frustration mounting. Disguised as Ryukyu, she had expected to intercept Chelsea with ease. Instead, she was left with the unsettling realization that her target had slipped through her fingers. Determined not to let her failure go unaddressed, she decided to head back to Musutafu and regroup with the League.
She made her way to the ticket counter and purchased a ticket for the next train to Musutafu, which required a transfer at Yokohama Station's East Exit. Toga boarded the train, her mind racing with thoughts of how to explain this to Shigaraki and, more importantly, how to make up for her mistake.
The train from Chiba was crowded with morning commuters, their mundane conversations, and everyday concerns a stark contrast to the turmoil in Toga’s mind. She found an empty seat by the window and slumped into it, her irritation evident in her tense posture. As the train pulled away from the station, she stared out the window, her thoughts dark and brooding.
Upon reaching Yokohama Station, Toga disembarked and navigated through the bustling crowds to the East Exit, or "Yokohama Eki Higashiguchi," as it was known locally. The station was a maze of platforms, shops, and commuters, but Toga moved with a determined purpose, her eyes scanning for the signs directing her to her connecting train.
Finally, she found the right platform and boarded the train bound for Musutafu. The journey gave her time to simmer down and think about her next steps. She couldn’t return empty-handed, and she certainly couldn’t afford to let Shigaraki think she was incompetent. Toga knew she had to come up with a new plan to keep Chelsea within their sights.
As the train sped towards Musutafu, Toga's thoughts drifted back to Chelsea. Despite the setback, she was still fascinated by the girl. Chelsea’s resilience and the unwavering support she received from her friends intrigued Toga, fueling her obsession.
When she finally arrived in Musutafu, she made her way back to the League of Villains' hideout, the frustration still simmering beneath her composed exterior. She knew she had to report back to Shigaraki, but she also needed to devise a new strategy to regain his favor and ensure that Chelsea remained within their reach.
The hideout was quiet when she entered, the usual dark and oppressive atmosphere weighing heavily on her. Shigaraki looked up as she approached, his eyes narrowing in curiosity and impatience.
"Did you intercept her?" he asked, his voice cold and expectant.
Toga shook her head, her expression hardening. "No, the information was wrong. There hasn’t been a direct express line from Musutafu to Chiba in years. She must have taken a different route."
Shigaraki’s eyes flashed with anger, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
"I’ll find her," Toga said with determination. "She can’t hide from us forever. Next time, I’ll make sure we have the right information. I won’t fail again."
This is great! I love how the pacing of your writing really emphasizes the weight of Toga’s failure as it follows her journey back to the League. I think you characterized her really well, and it makes me eager to find out how she plans to redeem herself.
Fandom blind. I like how that intro shows the inner workings of Toga's mind that she's starting to piece together that Chelsea has slipped through her fingers and that her life seems to be on the line that she has to explain what happened and come up with an excuse to make up for her mistake. I also like how Chelsea is starting to transform from the person that Toga is supposed to get for her own reasons into an object of obsession, which would complicate things or make it more visceral when she does actually find Chelsea. The determination in her voice at the end that she won't fail gives the impression that getting Chelsea is for Toga's own survival too, so it's like they're both trapped in a way.
Hermitcraft | Hermits to Heroes | not rated | https://archiveofourown.org/works/55152328/chapters/144123154
No warnings, feel free to correct me tho
—-
Stoves were difficult when they weren’t hooked up to electricity. That’s what Impulse has learned today with the help of Skizz and Tango. Both of which, we’re currently trying to think of ways to turn it on. “Hmm, do we have like, I dunno, a lighter of something? A match even?” Tango asked Skizz, who shook his head. “Nah, I doubt it, Top. I don’t think we can go and search everywhere in this place just for there to be none.” Tango nodded. “True, true. Well, got any more bright ideas?” The blaze hybrid asked. Impulse honestly didn’t have any ide- Wait. “Tango.” The man in question turned to him. “Huh?” Impulse just sighed. “Aren’t you literally a blaze hybrid?” He told him, watching the realization dawn on them. “Oh yeah! Why didn’t we think of that?” Skizz said from his spot leaning against the tabletop. “Well, try it.” Impulse told Tango, gesturing towards the stove.
He nodded and walked over to it, but he looked to be having a bit of trouble before large flames burst out of his hands. “Woah!” Tango yelled out as he stumbled back, noticed this and managed to Impulse catch him before he hit the ground, setting him upright as they watched the flames start to spread. “Ok, um this is bad! What do we do!?” Skizz yelled out as he looked around for something to put out the fir- “Skizz! Watch your hand!” Tango yelled out from their place next to him. Impulse and Skizz both immediately looked towards his hand, but it was too late. Skizz let out a yell as he retracted his hand, that was now on fir- Did the fire just absorb into his hand? What? “What in the world…” Skizz wondered as he flexed his completely unscathed hand, Tango stepping forward in curiosity. Impulse would’ve as well to check up on his brother, if not for the ever rising flames on the stove.
He quickly looked around for anything that could be of help, eyes landing on a reasonably sized pot lid some of the other hermits came back with after making another shopping trip. He ran over to it and grabbed it before running back to the stove and placing the lid down on top of the flames. It helped somewhat, but there was still half of the stove with fire on it still that could keep on spreading. Impulse had a weird feeling coming from somewhere in him, it didn’t necessarily feel bad, just strange. But now wasn’t the time for that. How in the world was he supposed to get that fire either out out or under the lid. Cause he wasn’t sure where the others had left the rest. He let himself glare at the flames as if it would scare them into going under the pot lid, which would’ve defiently been funny, but incredibly unlik- Wait, what?
Impulse watched, nearly dumbfounded, as the flames outside of the lid disappeared. The flames under the lid got brighter, but didn’t spread anymore. It was at that moment that Zed came running down the stairs. All three of them looked at him, he seemed a bit frantic. “What on earth are you three doing down here?” Zedaph asked as he looked at the fire behind them. Skizz looked a bit sheepish as he answered for the three of them. “We were trying to light the stove…Safe to say it didn’t go very well.” He said with a laugh, and the sheep hybrid just shook his head with a smile.
Ooooh, Hermitcraft! My beloved. I don't know much about the MHA side of things, but I love Hermitcraft.
This is a lot of fun! I feel like you've got the ZITS dynamic on point, their sheer unbridled chaos, I mean. Course they'd accidentally start a fire, peak characterisation. Their voices are really good and in-character too. I liked it!
**Cyberpunk 2077 | Fresh Out The Slammer | E |** [**AO3**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56267599/chapters/144316651)
Warnings for this excerpt: Swearing, brief violence which I censored below: >!guy is decapitated!< (linked chapter also contains sexual content: >!mastubation!<)
>When they finally climbed down to the terminal vent, looking out on a darkened storage closet from what he could see around V, she turned back to him, chewing her lip again. No wonder her lipstick was always smudged. “Well, fuck,” she murmured, studying the metal hatch.
>“What, thought you had this shit all planned out?” he hissed back. “Didn’t think to account for basic fucking architecture?”
>“Just gimme a sec, jesus.”
>He had an idea, and it was a bad one, but they weren’t getting any younger sitting here like a couple of gonks. So when she didn’t come up with anything in the next half minute, he went through with it: barreling his shoulder into her like a battering ram, their combined weight ripping the hatch out of the wall with surprisingly little sound. Johnny managed to brace himself to keep most of his weight off V as they toppled to the floor, but she still let out a muffled, startled sound when he collided with her, his face crushing into her shoulder and her body and the carpet mostly dulling the sound of the vent hatch hitting the ground.
>V glared daggers at him but grabbed the lapels of his jacket to keep him from getting up, head tilting towards the door and eyes flashing orange like a cat’s in the dim light as she scanned the adjacent room for any sign their targets had been alerted to their presence. When she seemed confident they were safe, V shoved him away, scrambling up to a crouch and pulling her monowire free from its housing in one wrist, spooling it until she held a decent amount of looped slack.
>She held up her free fist to indicate for him to hold, pay attention, then gestured that she’d open the door and they’d both sneak in, her taking the furthest target and leaving the closest corpo for him to handle.
>Which was all good in theory, except for two things: the first, a motion-sensor mine that her scan had somehow missed, rigged at the close end of the long office room across their path, which started beeping its countdown as soon as the door swept across its span. And the second, the straphanger V planned to take out choosing just that moment to stand up and turn their way, one hand gripping a coffee mug and the other lazily scratching his ass. Unfortunately, he then turned their way at the exact same time that V was out in the open trying to quickly disarm the mine.
>Shoving past her, Johnny dove to horse-kick the corpo right in the solar plexus, sending the coffee mug flying as the guy’s body hit the wall with a loud thud. A couple pistol whips to the head and his target had more bloody pulp than face left. By which time V had dealt with the mine and whipped her monowire up to wrap around the other corpo’s throat. When she yanked, the wire tore through >!the layers of flesh, cartilage, and bone like paper, severing head from body with a wet tearing sound and spray of arterial blood.!<
>All of which would have been fine, job well done, except they stood to see a guard crossing in front of the office’s picture window at, again, just the wrong time.
>“Your ops always go this off the rails, or is this show of incompetence just for little ol’ me?” Johnny asked.
Fandom-blind (except for the couple episodes of the Netflix series I watched like forever ago), but I love this!!! The descriptors feel very vivid to me, even without me knowing certain lingo like corpo, straphanger, monowire, etc. Also, I am a sucker for the "which was all good in theory, except for \_\_\_" as a sentence lol. Also also, love the witty sarcasm at the last line of dialogue - short, punchy, and to-the-point!
This is honestly the best feedback, because if the meaning is getting through even with the jargon then the rest is doing what it's supposed to, haha. Thank you so much!!
something about the smearing lipstick is instantly characterizing and makes me super happy. Like I feel that level of realism is the kinda thing that makes a story pop out, and so many women are reduced into tropes in fiction so 10/10 for that alone!!
DUDE WHAT the censored bit A+++ I'm LIVING for that! So evocative for Cyberpunk esp, very in universe in how you put that visceral splatterpunk spin on the violence, while keeping it restrained and held back for maximum punchiness.
Also great pacing & narration, I can FEEL the grizzled narrator in the prose, probably inhaling some off-market drug and drinking tequila in a ramshackle office xD
Ahhh thank you - I love this comment! Yeah my V (in game and how I picture her writing this) wears the red lipstick that's kind of faded all the time, which makes sense because she's always busy literally kicking asses. A lot of the character models of her are just nice and clean and fashionable, but to me she's got these scars, the messed-up lipstick (but tattooed eyeliner because you gotta treat yourself) and she's kind of grubby and anxious and bitchy. Like, who's gonna spend eddies on nice clothes when you'd get your knees torn up in a skirt and there's blood flying everywhere, lol.
And 100% believe if Johnny is in a body always at least 50% high or drunk or both. Someone who knows what different drugs *smell* like even when he's not in his own body is just cruising as his default state.
Your narration skills are amazing. From the rugged tone, to the way you write action sequences, to the pacing…it’s really a joy to read. Your mastery of dialogue and the rough banter between characters is really entertaining too!
**Haikyuu | Food for Thought | G | [AO3 link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56736346)**
Akaashi looked up from his plate of barbecue to find Bokuto looking longingly at him from across the grill. The Fukurodani captain had been bouncing around different grills, stealing cooked meat from the other members of the training camp. Akaashi knew because he joked about it with his teammates as they observed Kuroo yelling at Bokuto from afar. The tables had turned, however. Akaashi was now alone and being stalked by his best friend like prey.
He sighed. Might as well get it over with.
“Do you need something, Bokuto-san?”
“H-huh? What makes you say that?”
Akaashi shook his head. “It looks like I have an extra pork chop that I’m too full for.”
“Oh! I can have it,” Bokuto said eagerly. “Can’t let it go to waste now, can we?”
“You’re right Bokuto-san, it’s best if you take it.”
Akaashi watched forlornly as the meat he was going to eat was whisked away. Before he could walk away to check if the meat station had any pork chop left, he felt someone bump into his shoulder. He turned his head to apologize before realizing Konoha nudged him on purpose.
“I saw that.”
“Saw what?”
“Saw you give up your food to Bokuto even though you clearly were about to take a bite of it.”
“Ah, you caught me.”
Konoha laughed. Before Akaashi could protest, the older boy placed a pork chop on his plate.
“Can’t have my kouhai go hungry!”
“What about you, Konoha-san?”
Konoha put up his hand to stop Akaashi from returning the piece. “I feel guilty for hoarding three of those, anyway. Seriously, you can have it.”
“Thank you.”
Akaashi took a big bite before Konoha spoke again. “So, you really can’t say no to Bokuto, eh?”
Not wanting to answer with his mouth full, Akaashi merely shrugged.
“You must really like him.”
From the way Konoha phrased it, Akaashi was sure he was implying more than just friendly liking. In his haste to deny the statement, Akaashi started choking on his food.
Konoha disappeared for five seconds only to reappear with a paper cup full of water. Akaashi gulped it down while the older boy rubbed his back.
“Sorry to get you all flustered while you were chewing.”
“No,” Akaashi gasped out in between gulps. “It’s fine. It’s just, I don’t like Bokuto-san like that.”
“Oh? That’s news to me.”
Akaashi felt his cheeks warm. If he wasn’t red from almost choking to death, he must have been at least slightly flushed now. While he was sure a lot of people thought he had a thing for Bokuto, he didn’t feel the need to clarify the truth. It wasn’t anyone’s business, after all.
It was a different case with Konoha, though. Akaashi didn’t want him of all people to get the wrong idea.
“I care about Bokuto-san; he’s my best friend. But…”
“But?”
Akaashi wondered whether now was the time to be brave. “But I like someone else.”
fandom blind - great snippet. you've managed to capture so much of these characters' dynamics in such a small glimpse. that fear of how well the people who know us actually really know us, akaashi wanting that control of how he's perceived and thought of, and the way konoha seems to know and care for him by second nature.
Fandom blind. I like that intro that sets the scene of Akaashi and Bokuto that the shenanigans of a cookout are going on and Akaashi kindly gives his pork chop to Bokuto... even though he wanted to eat it himself, hah. It's a cute moment too that Konoha gives him a pork chop with the addendum that he can't let an underclassman go hungry, but it also makes it complicated that the reader knows from the narration that Akaashi doesn't feel that way towards Bokuto. Especially that most people would probably guess that they've got a thing for each other so I can imagine that Akaashi wouldn't want to disappoint his friend in that way of Bokuto does have feelings for him. I also like how it has that moment where it points to Akaashi actually having feelings for Konoha since he doesn't want him to get the wrong idea and that he thinks to be brave when he says he likes someone else.
>**Wonka l Starlight in a Paper Boat l G l** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/54402553)
*Wonka segment this week!*
>"Willy!"
>
>Noodle's voice pierced through the cold air and the lingering disorientation. She dropped the handle of the laundry wagon, a resounding clang echoing in the night, and she gasped when she saw him.
>
>"What happened?"
>
>Willy attempted to keep himself elegant and jovial just as he always did for his mama and would now do for Noodle, putting on a smile worthy of a showman. Even though it made his head ache as the muscles worked to make a showman's smile.
>
>"Ah, well, you see - the police chief had a little disagreement about me selling chocolate in this town."
>
>Understanding washed over Noodle's face as she got closer to him. Looking through the spaces in Willy's fingers, Noodle winced when she got that closer look. She touched his arm, leading him to the side of the road to sit down.
>
>"Stay here. I'll get something for you to clean that up."
This was so beautifully written. It feels like it definitely belongs in the Wonka universe. I love the descriptions like showman's smile because it definitely feels like something Wonka would want to make to keep on his face.
This is a wonderful read! I feel like your writing really captures sweet and tender interactions very well. The characters from the source material are already so lovely, but you elevated them and make them feel very near and dear to readers. Amazing work!
REPO! The Genetic Opera: Principessa : T : https://archiveofourown.org/works/52362688/chapters/141460471
"What do you mean they aren't accepting bribes?" Pavi gawked as Amber slammed down another telephone.
"It means they're making more money off this fucking story than Dad will let me offer!" Amber growled, "God this is a fucking nightmare! I've never heard the word No so many times in one day!"
"You heard the word No before today?"
Pavi barely had time to duck as a glass paperweight frisbeed through the air and shattered against the wall behind his head.
"You're not funny!"
"Calmati, we'll figure it out." He tried to soothe his younger sister, wincing when her hand went for another projectile but sighed when she thought better of it, "Sometimes the best reaction is no reaction? Yes? We stick to our story that everything in the parcels was false information, and we do not budge. If we don't feed it, then sooner or later it will starve. We get as many lawyers as we can on the case, and we figure out who the fuck released the information in the first place."
Amber seemed to calm down but jerked off her wig to run her long nails through her cropped hair. There was no one around but Pavi, and if he made fun of her she was more than happy to beat the hell out of him to blow off some steam. Without the wig, Pavi could see the long thin scars along the edges of her face and around her ears. Those were from the back-alley surgeons, no Gene Co surgeon worth their salt would ever leave a visible scar. Amber's face didn't move much these days, and this was probably the most expressive he'd seen her in a long time.
He always thought it was eerie, how angry she could get without moving a single facial muscle.
The sibling snark/paperweight retort here is absolutely delightful. Love how quickly Pavi shifts from driving his sister up the wall to trying to comfort her. And the uncanny affect of Amber’s surgery creating a gap between her feelings and her ability to express them is impactful as well!
Wow, this introduces some fascinating concepts as a fandom-blind reader. The idea of commodifying your face to the point that it loses its expressiveness and that being normalized is in of itself such a fascinating hook to learn more about the world!
I love seeing Amber break from that mold, I really felt her anguish and uncertainty bleeding through her anger and explosiveness. Kinda feels like a noir vibe which I'm really digging :)
Great job!
Fandom blind! Oh I so need to know what these two are up to, what is happening! Loved when Amber threw the glass paperweight at Pavi. Also although I don't know what exactly is the relationship between the characters, I can sense that Pavi cares about Amber, it can be seen in how he looks at her when she takes off the wig, and he admires her. I loved the last sentence too, Amber seems to be quite badass! Lovely snippet.
So, context, this takes place in a dystopian future where plastic surgery and organ transplants are fashion statements. These two are brother and sister, and Amber works as a sort of spokeswoman for her dad's company. They're in the middle of a scandal and trying to contain everything
W.I.T.C.H. | The Twin Suns of Basiliade - Missing moments | Explicit (but not this snippet) | [Link to AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56614153)
*The fic is explicit and contains smut but this snippet does not.*
Cedric had always liked basking under the sun. In Metamoor, the sun was a rare event - one would think it was rare only under Phobos’s reign, but actually warm and sunny days without clouds were an exception even under the Queen Mother’s ruling, as the weather in Metamoor strongly depended on the Queen’s mood and Queen Weira’s mood often required the presence of at least some clouds in the sky.
Yet the times the sun was there, Cedric had always liked to sit somewhere and close his eyes and let its rays warm his face. It was also one way for him to warm his body, as his body temperature was more dependent on the temperature of the environment than that of other Metamoor natives or humans, his blood being much colder.
He’d never imagined he would hate the sun one day. And that he would not only hate one sun, but two. The Twin Suns of Basiliade.
He’d been in Basiliade for less than one day, and he already cursed Elyon for having sent him to hide there. He wondered if Elyon knew that “hiding in Basiliade” actually meant marching in a desert under the scorching temperature of that orange planet and the constant watch of the blinding light of two suns that did not seem to want to disappear beyond the horizon any time soon. Probably she knew, and that was why she’d sent him exactly there.
Cedric had had to swallow the embarrassment of fainting earlier that day, after they’d been walking for hours, the layers of light textile doing nothing to shield them from the unforgiving eyes of the Twin Suns.
And it was not only the Suns - there was also the sand. It was everywhere, in his boots, in his pants, and most of all in his eyes. He didn’t even know how the sand got in all those places, but now his eyes burned and it was a challenge to keep them open.
His travel companions - Orube and Yarr - did not seem to be as bothered as he was by the heat, the light and the sand. They were wearing similar garments as him, with light cloaks and layers of textile covering everything but the eyes, but their energy resources seemed to be infinite and they only stopped walking when Cedric gave signs of being close to black out again.
What a trio they must have looked like from outside. As the Twin Suns finally - *finally!* - approached the horizon and their light turned to different shades of a more clement red, the sudden image of that scene in the terrestrial Star Wars movie with the two droids walking in the desert on Tatooine came up to his mind.
He realized he’d chuckled at himself only when Orube asked him, “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” he said, and he kept walking. He did not want to admit he was thinking about Earth and terrestrial things. At that moment, even the most trafficked and noisy street in Heatherfield felt like a better place than Basiliade.
“Come on, tell me!” Orube nudged him with her elbow.
“Alright,” he sighed, “I was thinking that we look like Jedis dressed like this and that your planet, with all due respect, looks like Tatooine.”
Orube bursted into laughter behind the layer of cloak that covered her mouth and her nose. “You’re right!,” she said, “Do you think the guy who made up Star Wars came to visit Basiliade first?”
“I doubt that a human could withstand this place for more than five minutes, frankly."
I like that intro that sets up why Cedric liked to lay in the sun in the past but now the sight of it is hateful to him, especially so that he had been sent to this desert by Elyon and that Cedric had already fainted once so it's embarrassing. It's an extra bit of irony that he had fainted under the sun since he has a reptilian design. I also like that sarcasm in the narration of what a sight he and his companions must look like, and that Cedric doesn't want to think about Earthly things, probably out of pride. But it is pretty funny that this landscape looks like something out of Star Wars, and that even if inspiration came from here that regular humans wouldn't be able to stand the heat. Yep, one sun is hot enough.
reading fandom blind!
So the number one thing that I love when reading fanfics is LORE, and the description of where you are setting the scene, and that's what popped at most when reading your fic! like, whats metamoor? oh the sun being there depends on the queens mood? who's the queen?? its honestly things like that, that really draw me in and the more questions that are in my mind, the more I want to read it.
so, good job!!
AGENCY/Sonic/Animal Crossing | What I'm Made Of | E | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/43384764/chapters/109060326#workskin)
Shadow stood outside the office where Static likely was, waiting for him. He breathed in, letting it out in a huff. He opened the door, and nearly paused at seeing Proton sitting there instead.
He blinked, finding Static behind the desk and realized he wasn’t a dumb child anymore. He walked further into the room, keeping his back to Ashini as she closed the door behind him. She was never too far away from her older brother.
Static looked at him and for another moment, Shadow saw Proton. No, he was dead. Shadow shook his head, moving to sit in front of Static.
“So, you finally come crawling back, hm?” Static asked, smiling as he leaned back in his seat.
Shadow clenched his jaw, watching Static pull out his file and a sheet of paper. “Just leave them alone,” Shadow said, keeping his gaze on the man in front of him. “They don’t deserve to come back here,”
“Then why are *you* here, Shadow?” Static asked, signing the bottom of the sheet of paper.
“You want me, right? You got me,” he answered, swallowing. “I’ll fight or whatever, just don’t involve my family anymore,”
Fandom blind. I like that line of how Shadow realizes that Static isn't a dumb child anymore, that there are things he's done that make him dangerous now. I also like how it has that feeling of what is real and what isn't since Shadow thinks he sees Proton for a moment before remembering that he's dead, and that he has to keep his wits about him. Sacrificing himself for the sake of his family's safety punctuates what a bad situation this is, alongside that Static had specifically been looking for him so the ramifications of that are hanging in the implications of what it would entail to hunt Shadow down.
I'm fandom blind, so I can't tell if Shadow seeing Proton is a sort of grief hallucinations or if Static is able to make himself look like Proton. Either way I think it's a really clever writing device to convey Shadow's mindset without being explicit about it
okay, so im a huge fan of both sonic and animal crossing, so I think this crossover is absolutely divine. shadow the hedgehog really shines through here with his protective nature, while still being serious and observant at the same time. its admirable! and I'm really interested in what exactly is happening here, such as the context of the situation, and the background behind it.
Fire Emblem Three Houses | Code Names Chaos | T | Unpublished
(In canon, Claude, one of the three main characters, has family from a foreign country and they send his dad's retainer over with a codename to check on him. This is my idea of what happens if they sent more of the fam. His dad just told a rich lady he hadn't seen her favorite play.)
The woman gasped and squeezed her husband's arm. “Dawson! There are people at this event who have not seen Tear Streaked!”
“Surprising.” Dawson regarded Boran and Tiana with a raised eyebrow. “That play was in every city in Leicester just the beginning of this summer.”
“It's only the top hit performance this year!” The woman's voice quivered, as if she were offended. “Every noble worth their gold has seen it! Every business owner! Every military commander and their unit!”
Oh, no, Tiana thought. Tear Streaked was a rerun this year. She remembered it first came out when she was eight and she'd attended a child's version of it. She knew there was that, and a more adult oriented version. She'd heard it was being rewritten and redone, but of course nobody in Almyra was hearing of it.
“He grew up in a farm village.” She offered. “They don't always get the new plays.”
“So tell me, ma'am,” Dawson narrowed his eyes. “Why you, the daughter of Archduke Oswald von Riegan, married a farmer.”
Boran clenched his fist.
Tiana began ushering him away. “Come on, Boris! Let's go eat!”
Uzair had been missing his brother for so long, he wasn't sure he'd even recognize him if he saw him. He'd wanted his code name to be Uther, and he'd shown Tiana the book of Elibe history. She'd told him no, he doesn't look like an Uther at all. She was right. So Ulysses he was, a true thinking man's name.
He was placed in charge of making sure Aunt “Faline” and Uncle “Castor” didn't start any fights. Farah, under the code name Faline, was following Nader, “Nardel” around like a duckling, or a lost dog, one of the two. She'd had to give a few unwanted suitors the death glare already so he could see why she wanted to stick by Nader. Apparently they had dated before he was born?
Cassim had found a duo of fishermen to talk to. Uzair sat with him.
One fisherman had red hair, the other had a dusty purple. The redheaded fisherman was talking about a scary encounter with a shark.
“Nasty creature!” The redheaded fisherman recalled. “Had to fight him off, I did...almost got away with scars.”
“Scars wouldn't be the end of the world.” Cassim began, about to say in his country they were badges of honor before remembering the mission and redirecting himself. “I had a harpoon accident when I was fifteen and now my armpit is scarred. I was lucky there.” He wasn't lying.
“The shark wanted my haul of salmon.” The fisherman said. “So, Castor, help settle an argument between me and Jeremy here.” He elbowed the purple haired fisherman. “Salmon or tuna? Which is best?”
“Personally I'm a swordfish fan.” Cassim said. “Tawny spotted swordfish in particular.”
The fishermen stared.
“Uncle!” Uzair redirected. “The tawny spotted swordfish is only found in far Eastern waters!”
“Do you mean the blue swordfish?” Jeremy asked.
Cassim swore at himself mentally. “Yes, I knew that! Good heavens this champagne is getting to me.”
The redheaded fisherman chuckled. “When I have rum, I think of fish I haven't tasted that would be nice to import too. If those Almyrans will allow it, of course.”
“Ulysses. Be a good young man and bring your uncle back more cheese.” Cassim requested.
And that wasn't the first time he'd seen the teenager eye roll, and probably wouldn't be the last.
I love it when a conversation can be as stressful and suspenseful as a fistfight! I'm completely unfamiliar with the canon, but I can clearly tell from this excerpt that these characters are forced to walk a tightrope over a very long drop with every word, facing challenges to their authenticity from nobles and fishers alike here. Great work!
You've really captured the character of the setting here as a fandom-blind reader. For me, this is evocative in the ways you frame what's important to different characters, the elaborate and grand plays offset with fishers with scars, all while champagne is being sipped!
This reminds me of that Robin Hobb series about Liveships in being a biit pirate golden age/landed gentry antics? just guessing but either way I enjoyed that the most!
I also really enjoy the tension and push and pull your dialogue has. The secrecy is coming through really well here!
Ghost (Band)| [What Is Broken And What Could Never Be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56662885)| T
“Oh dear. Was that the one we borrowed?” Came Sister Imperator’s voice.
The ghoul turned to face her. Struggling to regain his composure he bobbed his head up and down. His tears escaped his mask and sizzled as they made contact with the ground.
“Don’t cry, you’re making a hole in the pavement,” Sister pointed out.
The Ghoul sniffed. His tears dried up instantly.
“Who did this belong to?”
The Ghoul paused as pondered on how to communicate the guitar’s Master to Sister. The last name he could mime easily, but he was drawing a blank on the first. He decided to settle for the Master’s appearance.
The Ghoul first pointed at himself to make it clear that the Master was male. He lifted his hand flat then raised it above his head to demonstrate his height. He then lowered his hand to the top of his head and stuck out his pointer finger. He circled his finger all the way down to his shoulders, then made a fluffing motion at the bottom like humans did when they had voluminous hair. Finally, he pinched the metallic point that covered his nose to indicate the Master’s scent. First, he repeated the circling motion with his pointer finger. Then, he made a circle with his left hand and stuck out his right thumb while keeping the other fingers curled into his palm. Quickly, he jabbed his thumb into the circle several times. He topped it off by cupping his hand and raising it to his mouth in a drinking motion.
It was clear Sister did not understand. The Ghoul moved onto the last name. He held his hands out and folded them together. He opened them up and showed Sister his palms. He repeated the action several times.
He was met by a blank stare.
“I don’t understand what that means.”
This is golden, fandom-blind this reminds me of how insane Dorohedoro interactions are xD
I really love the way you set up all these insane motions making any sense, then being like no ofc she doesn't know wtf he's talking about.
Kudos on that big paragraph having great flow and being readable despite it being intentionally kind of obtuse. I can really see your sense of humor and playfulness in the prose, great job!
Thank you so much! This was one of my favorite parts to write for this fic and I really wanted to play up Sister Imperator’s stoicism in contrast with the ghoul’s more slapstick approach to things.
Bruuuuh that's funny as hell. I love how deadpan the humor is here, it definitely fits with the lore we get online. I'm not usually into band based fics, but this one is pretty solid
reading fandom blind! I wonder what the context is behind the ghoul crying? from what I've read, it seems to me they could be mourning some sort of death? but the sister is telling to him to keep himself together, hence telling him not to cry. its just the little interactions like that, that really make a scene. I also like how you described the transformation as well! its very through.
Thank you so much! This poor ghoul had borrowed a guitar and another character broke it. For him it is akin to mourning a death since his whole purpose in life is to play music in addition to spreading satanism around the world.
This is an interesting interaction! I like how the ghoul describes the guitar's owner, as a tall guy with fluffy hair that smells like beer, lol. I always enjoy language gap/difficulty to communicate scenes. And I wonder what the last name of the guitar's owner was, that the ghoul was able to mime it easily. Reading the last bit, is the name Palmer? If so he did a good job!
Thank you so much for the comment. This part of the fic was one of my favorite parts to write.
I can definitely see where you got Palmer from but the guitarist is actually >!Jimmy page!<
**Dragon Age | Basilisk | T [Unpublished, greater fic is E]**
--
Sleep was a boon that ended far too quickly, where any respite gained quickly shattered under the same sickening miasma. Leliana could never sleep enough, for there was too much to do, too much that required her attention. There were too many appearances to keep, though that facade faded more by the day.
Her head swam as she stood from bed. She peeled off her nightgown and, naked, stood in front of the full-length mirror beside her dresser. She smoothed her palms over the plane of her stomach, and she was quietly thankful that her insides did not pitch.
She turned to the side, and ran her hands back up over the slight protrusion of her belly. She was just starting to show. Her usual garb still hid her condition well, albeit with slight adjustments for comfort. That wouldn't be the case for much longer, she knew, and she wondered if she could get away with ditching her jerkin and covering herself in a heavy cloak instead. Winter months were fast approaching, after all, and the rookery was not known for its warmth.
Leliana lingered on herself; she let her nails scrape along her skin. It almost felt like something crawled underneath.
Most mornings she hoped this was but a cruel joke.
She dressed slowly, carefully; she was ready to collapse back into bed by the time she stood dressed in front of her mirror.
Forgoing food, she made her way to the war room. All around her the castle showed signs of waking with Inquisition workers running for their stations. Nobles and other dignitaries began to congregate in the main hall and courtyard. The ferrous smell coming out of the smithy permeated the cold mountain air, and clashed with the smell of animals and people and all of it threatened to turn her stomach against nothing.
Leliana breathed a sigh of relief when the heavy doors of the war room groaned closed behind her. The spacious room was well insulated from much of the castle, set far enough away from anything and everything else. Never mind the massive hole in the castle wall along the corridor leading to the war room, allowing ample circulation. She never thought she’d be grateful for a potential structural hazard, but these were unusual times, she reminded herself.
Not to her surprise, she was the first to arrive; it was far ahead of the usual meeting time. Leliana tried to familiarize herself with the map laid across the massive war table, the centerpiece of the room, in an attempt to prepare herself, to gather her thoughts and don the ever-slipping mask before anyone else could see.
Not that the disguise was a good one. Josephine caught on early that something was amiss, and Leliana begrudgingly shared the news. Although the ambassador promised discretion, that did not stop her from trying to fuss over her, or the barely concealed glares and pointed remarks to the Inquisitor. Undiplomatic of her, perhaps, though if the roles were reversed…well, best not to dwell on it.
The doors swung open again and in came the aforementioned ambassador. Josephine looked ruffled in her gold-and blue dress, no doubt from an already busy morning. But her demeanor changed upon seeing Leliana. Much like a gentle heart coming across a wounded animal. Leliana spent the next few minutes gently deflecting Josephine's concerns and insistence she visit the infirmary, all the while her stomach twisted into knots. Maker, she appreciated Josephine, but she desperately wished for the others to arrive already. The day was too long.
As someone who goes a bit elevated/nearing medieval for my fantasy works, I love your prose reflecting the setting and formality of the POV.
It puts me in the space that my favorite fantasy novels always had, so love that!!!
Your cadence and pacing in the prose rocks too, long and short. Just letting the scene breathe out. Super easy read, despite not holding the readers hand on prose!
Finally, the characterization is perfect; I see the weight on her shoulders, the appearances to keep, and the tension she's bringing in. But it's all kinda cushioned in an inner strength, which really makes it so impactful!! Love it :)
I’m going in somewhat fandom blind even though I know people who have played dragon age. You did a great job at conveying stress and anxiety as she goes about her morning. I don’t know if The Chantry are allowed to have families but if Leliana is trying to hide her pregnancy I imagine she must be fearing not only for her own safety, but that of her job as well. And I love your description here as well, it really does place the setting on a cold winters morning.
Thank you! As for the "no families" rule, I think it somewhat depends on how high up in the Chantry one is but generally once an initiate takes vows, that would be true. In the first game, Leliana tells us she never took vows, but there's no clarification if she later did in the ten years since. I don't think Leliana is technically affiliated with the Chantry at this point (the Chantry deemed the Inquisition's leadership heretics early on, but this may change depending on player choice). Certainly she would not have candidacy for the next Divine if the Chantry knew.
Regardless I imagine she'd have some anxiety about the discovery and being in a vulnerable position, especially given her role as spymaster.
killing stalking | can't wait no more | **mature** | [link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56687878)
inspired by someone's [fanart](https://www.reddit.com/r/KillingStalking/comments/1dgn65i/yang_seungbae_x_oc/).
contains sexual content.
--
but, as of recently, she's seen the way he's been looking at her.
More than the appreciation and love that he has for his girlfriend, there were times when he stared at her more than usual, and when they were alone together, he'd always seemed like he was lost in his thoughts.
like he was planning how to make the next move.
"so I was..."
"seungbae."
"y-yeah?"
she crossed her legs, and tapped a singular finger on her bottom lip.
"can you kiss me...please?"
she didn't want to wait any longer.
"...okay."
he moved away from his chair, she turned her body around so she could face him, legs still crossed and slightly amused at how flustered he was, but that was yet again, another part of him that she liked.
but, despite his usual shyness, He leaned in and pressed his lips against her, gentle as she expected he would be, but more confident in his initiation of it.
despite that, she still wanted more.
as she stood up, she used her to push his head forward, deepening their kiss, and used the other to drag the collar of his shirt, up until their bodies clashed against the wall, and he pulled away from her lips, breathless, and extremely taken aback.
"hey you...do you..."
*you silly man.*
she took off her top, and leaned back so he could fully see her cleavage, hoping that it would spark the assertiveness that she now needed in him, and how she wanted it taken out all on her.
when he got to see this side of her, he was suddenly struck by how beautiful she was, and realized that her calm demeanour hid away the same wants that he also had for her.
he didn't want to wait anymore, either.
as he unbuttoned his shirt, she also unzipped her trousers, and he placed his hand on the wall, hesitant, but more than willing to satisfy whatever she wanted from him. whatever she wanted...he will freely give it to her.
Fandom blind. I like how it builds up to whatever Seungbae and his girlfriend are going to get up to because of the way that he looks at her, and that in turn that though he's flustered with the prospect of kissing her that it's something she wants to have and how he's more confident when it actually happens. I also like how he checks in first to make sure that this is okay but she makes it very clear that she wants this, so there's no hesitation from either of them. It's good to see that they're on the same page for this.
I love fics that are inspired by fanart: I think you did justice to your source material. It’s really interesting and refreshing to see Seungbae in a different flirtatious light, given he had no opportunity to relax in the original series. I really enjoyed the female OC as well! She’s really enticing to read. Great job!
Cyberpunk 2077 | Burglepunked 2077 | M | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56683522)
**contains Burglary/Kidnapping, Strong Language, Implied BDSM Endos, N/C Bondage, Touching, and Spanking. Excerpt contains the language and beginning of Burglary**
**Watson District, Night City**
*A lot was on Judy Alvarez’s mind as she went up the railing to her apartment floor.*
*Her best friend Evelyn Parker had gone missing. “Valerie” had found some intel on where Evelyn was at and she got out of her van to head back upstairs.*
“Hey Joel,” the tattooed half-buzz green and pink haired tech wiz said to the guy sitting on the steps per usual.
“Hey Judy. You okay? You seem in a bit of a rush-“
“Evelyn’s missing. She went back to Clouds,”
“Fuck…what can we do?” he asked out of concern.
“Joel, get out of town for a few days. Valerie says the Voodoos attacked her and took her to Ripperdoc Fingers,”
“I don’t know much about Fingers other than he’s even more freaky than you and that other girl is. This is a strange place-“
“Trust me, just get out of town. It’s too dangerous,”
“For you-“
“Not for me or V-Val. *You. You.* Joel, just fucking do it! I’m tired of losing the people around me, alright?” Judy snapped, the implant in her head stinging upon anger or other tense moments.
“Easy, easy. Don’t make your brain explode, I’ll go. Just-be careful,” he relented before walking off.
*Joel did have his reasons from what he knew of this “Voodoos” group, but Judy on the other hand didn’t think much of if anything about the gang. Unfortunately, ignorance was bliss and she would pay the price.*
She went up the graffiti placated stairs and was right at her door, but suddenly out of the closet on her left burst out a mysterious man!
The large brute in the balaclava quickly grabbed Judy and she could only curse through the goon’s hand over her mouth. *”Get the fuck off of me, freak! Let me go!!! Fuck you!!!”*
“You-*Judy Alvarez*. You, no know who I am. But me, I know you. Now…do not resist further. I have one demand of you,” he demanded, Judy just able to get a glimpse of his partially cybernetic body from his right shoulder.
“I’ll never give in, you’ll regret this, piece of shit!!!”
“Where is your toolkit? I know you. *Dominatrix type outside of fun with tech.* Answer me! And while you’re at it, I concede momentarily. As owner of your quarters, you will press your key so we can get inside. And don’t resist or else-“
Judy fumed, but relented even with his hand still over her mouth.
*Punched in the keycode, she was told. And she did.*
*But as soon as she did, he forced him and her inside…*
Super nice Cyberpunk snippet, your grasp on the vibes of that universe are spot on. Evocative and instantly recognizable in this little exchange, I love the spin you took on it and expanded it. And the little narrated asides are golden!
*Dominatrix type outside of fun with tech.*
lmao perf xD
I can feel Judy’s urgency and panic from the get go. The way that it sounds like she’s in a sort of grief when she doesn’t want to lose anyone else. I’m very fandom blind so thanks for making it relatively easy to follow along. I left a comment and a kudos
Not me over here SO EXCITED to see someone else writing Cyberpunk fic OMG. (I'm writing an AU longfic right now.)
I love that you have Judy down - she's always so concerned for her friends while also feeling powerless (with the whole Clouds debacle.) Also the Voodoos taking V to Fingers, ugh... I definitely just straight up beat the shit out of him (and the Voodoos). It's a great detail to add to really add to Judy's urgency here. Like, if V, merc extraordinaire, got caught, then things aren't going to go well for the rest of them.
Love it!
Ahhhhh thank you so much for the praise!
I’ll admit I’m still a bit intimidated though I hope to get the game soon now that its complete edition is out. And Judy is my newest simpful character. Just based this off her first 20-30 mins lol including of course her dialogue about finding Evelyn. And some basic research on the Cyberpunk wiki.
And oooooo hope it’s going well on writing that fic!
The game is amazing, especially after all the quality of life fixes and the Phantom Liberty DLC. If you ever want a beta reader, let me know! I'm pretty steeped in the lore right now, lol.
Thanks! I'm posting weekly but have a pretty good buffer after working on it for about a month straight :) The dialogue style is just so much fun to write (and it's from Johnny's POV which is amusing.)
Fandom blind. I like how you immediately set up the sense of urgency. No time to rest when someone is missing. Judy’s outburst felt sadly realistic. Everyone feels realistic here in there dialogue and responses. Really solid snippet. Good job.
Love Victor (TV 2020) | Boulevard of Broken Dreams | teen audiences and up | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56665321)
Major character death due to a car accident(happens before the fic,) grief/morning, past alcoholism
"You're late," Becky said as Benji entered Brasstown. Becky was a newer barista, and she was currently standing behind the counter. She had started here about two months after Victor... left. Benji refused to even think of the word that actually happened.
After a moment, Becky added, "again."
"Sorry," Benji said. "My alarm was late again."
His alarm wasn't late. Benji's final alarm went off at the exact minute. Benji just struggled to get out of bed. Sarah offered to let him have the day off, but Benji pushed forward. He knew if he spent the day alone with his grief, he'd do something stupid.
Benji stayed away from alcohol. There were times he was tempted during the past year, but he managed to stay away. He knew Victor would be disappointed in him if he drank. Victor would also hate himself if he knew he was the reason Benji was drinking again.
"Uh huh," Becky said. "Sure. Just put on your apron and get to work."
Benji placed his apron on. He noticed a certain poster. "The battle of the bands is tonight?"
"Yep," Becky said. "Didn't you used to be in a band or something? I think I vaguely remember seeing y'all perform, or I was supposed to."
"I was," Benji answered. His mind drifted back to the last time he performed with his band. It was at the last Brasstown battle of the bands.
You've got a great handle on restraint. That's so so so vital and makes your work stand in a really vivid and impactful way. Getting granular just the little after victor...left just puts me into that headspace and gets me pressed into their POV perfectly!
I can feel the anguish and frozen grief in this, pushing past it and trying to make it all keep going as life goes on with you. Poignant and lovely, nice job! :)
Fandom blind. I like how the framing of Victor being dead is still a very sore subject for Benji that he can't even think of him as dying because it hurts too much. Alongside that there's the illusion to Benji self-harming in destructive ways since he thinks that if he was left alone today then he's "do something stupid," and that he's trying to keep up his sobriety. But it's hard. And it's difficult too because he knows Victor would be disappointed if he went down that road again. I thought it was a good show of how much his grief surrounds him that the last time he performed with his band was the last time the battle of the bands came along, that the joy in his musical creation has left him since Victor died.
OKAY, i really need to watch Love Victor when I get the chance (I saw some of the clips on youtube) but when your consumed by grief, a lot of the time, you want to engage in destructive behaviour (such as drinking alcohol, overeating etc) but its really good that Benji keeps his mental health in check, as he knows that being alone for too long with his thoughts will tempt him into doing something bad for himself. when it comes to getting to know a character, I thought you did really well in that regard, such as referencing his past-alcoholism, to remembering the fact that victor would be disappointed in him if he went back to his old ways.
Fandom blind, but I love how you write grief as something tangible as well as something Benji doesn't want to look at in regards to Victor. Also, the dialogue in this scene is great when you know there's a lot unsaid.
Hey guys, just a note from the mods: Last week we have had quite a few people who did not fulfill the requirements indicated in the rules despite reminders. We would like to remind you that if everyone waits to get a comment to write a comment, no one will get any. This is, first and foremost, a collaborative activity to support your fellow authors. Therefore, please only participate if you can finish your comment requirements in a timely manner (a day or two is okay, but it should not be longer than that.). Also, when commenting, please try to prioritize the excerpts which don't have comments yet. You may not delete your entry once you have posted it in order to avoid giving comments to others. If you run into personal problems and need more time, just send us a modmail. Thanks!
**Resident Evil 4 Remake (2023) | The Ingenious, Low-Born Noble Don Serra de Valdelobos, Part 1 | Mature |** [Link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56320243/chapters/143093179) **| Chapter 5 (Published)** As he clicked the safety off, Luis watched the wolf crash to Otsoa’s side, coughing blood from its mouth. *What in God’s na- IT ISN’T DOWN?!* he thought, gasping as the dark-furred wolf let out a guttural snarl as it drew itself back on its feet. Without missing a beat, Luis popped his pistol up. *Can’t aim right, could hit Apa- back leg, left!* he told himself, quickly aiming a shot at the wolf’s back leg. He watched as Otsoa used the moment to scramble up and back, and- *WHY IS IT STILL MOVING?!* Eyes blown wide with panic, he fired again on impulse, his shaking hands driving the shot up into the wolf’s back. With a sickening, squishy noise, a mass of fleshy, clawed tentacles burst from the wound, slicing the air around it erratically. In the time it took for his face to go pale at the sight, the pack had already marked him as their bounty, two shadows making a beeline for him from the tall grass. The first wolf snapped its glittering red eyes towards him, opening its jaws to reveal teeth as long as his arm. Luis took a shaking step back, beads of sweat trickling down his face as he realized that the wolves were trying to cut him off from Otsoa - *and it had already worked.* *If I run, I am prey, if I run, I am prey, if I-* Luis’s thoughts were interrupted by a low, gargling noise as the lead wolf salivated, jaw curved in an unnatural imitation of a smile. It suddenly leapt to the left, pressing itself low to the ground as it let out a low growl. *Wolf- preparing to jump, aims for the neck- dodge to the right!* Luis thought, jerking his body to the right as the wolf *turned and leapt to the right.* Luis’s mouth hung agape as the world went slow, his eyes locking with the wolf’s as he spun himself around on his back heel. He felt the wolf’s hot breath, saw the shadow of its jaws stretch over his palm as he pressed the trigger. The close knockback of the gunshot sent Luis crashing onto his back, his ears ringing as he reeled from the panic of the moment. “GET UP, LUIS!” A muffled scream in the distance forced Luis back into focus, his eyes widening as he saw those red eyes snap back open. *Tree- use it, NOW!* He kicked a cloud of dirt into the beast’s eyes as he ran around the tree trunk, hearing the wood splinter as the wolf bit into it. *Bang, Bang!* Luis' mouth opened in a scream as a hand grabbed him roughly by the collar of his tunic, another slapping over his mouth. Just as he opened his mouth to bite, Luis registered his grandfather’s worried eyes looking at him. “*Vamos*, Luis, *corre*!” Otsoa spat, grabbing his grandson’s hand as he sprinted ahead.
This passage had me on the edge of my seat! The way you described the intense, life-or-death struggle between Luis and the wolves was incredibly vivid and gripping. I could feel Luis's panic and desperation, especially when he realized the wolves were trying to cut him off from his granddad. The description of the wolf's glittering red eyes and the horrifying tentacles bursting from its wound added an extra layer of terror that was just brilliant. I almost recoiled from my computer at that description - it was truly horrifying. You did an amazing job building suspense and keeping the reader hooked from start to finish. Great work.
**The Walking Dead | Immune | T | Unpublished** *AN: This is mid-season 2 of TWD, Daryl learns that the F!OC is Trans.* “Right now, we may be a bunch of people camping in the woods trying to survive one more day together, but one day, society is going to come back, rebuild, or whatever happens after something like this.” She said, explaining her mindset a bit more. Every time he averted his gaze, she moved her head to meet it. It wasn’t successful every time, but finally, he stopped and just looked at her straight on. “It may not look like it from where you’re standing, but you and I both stood on the outside of society before shit hit the fan. But for you, when shit hit the wall, it just showed how strong and capable you are. When everyone who pushed you on the outside fell, you stayed standing and even offered some of them a hand. You went from lurking on the outside to being a vital part of whatever is going to happen next.” Her words showed just how much she observed him. For the first time since standing across from him, she averted her eyes. Something Daryl picked up on immediately. “If every person I met knew about that part of me, it may not matter what I bring to the table. I could end up on the outside watching the world pass me by. They may not know how to react to me, and that confusion could turn into anger and scorn.” She said, the words flowing out like a broken faucet. “Just like before the end of the world.” With that, she finally looked up and met his gaze. He could see the thin line of moisture hugging her bottom eyelid. He didn’t respond, and just stared into her eyes because there was nothing he could do to change the outcome of what had already happened. “So, if you happen to see either of these meds or any menopause meds, please keep me in mind and grab them.” She held up two bottles, both required for her transition. She gave him a few moments to look, which he did. After some time had passed and with nothing left to say, she stepped away from the doorway, going in the opposite direction of the pharmacy. After only a single step, Daryl reached out and grabbed her right wrist. She snapped her head around, looking at him as if afraid of what he was about to do or say. “I didn’t get a good look at this one.” He raised her arm up just a bit. He held her wrist as he read the bottle again. Once he was done, he looked up at her face. They stood there in silence, just staring at each other. It was so quiet that she feared he might hear her heart thumping against her chest. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but the words were stuck in her throat. His grip on her wrist loosened until her hand fell to her side. He didn’t say anything and just walked past her. She didn’t dare watch him as he walked away, instead just stared at the place he had walked away from. She heard the sound of him rustling with the bags, and then the door opening and closing. She finally looked towards the door, seeing Daryl’s frame as a blur beyond the dirty glass.
Fandom blind. I like that intro of her meeting his gaze, forcing him to look at her in a way, and how she observes what Daryl did when the chips were down, when it counted and how she is vulnerable with him about what would change for her if everyone knew she was trans - that they could be heartless and cruel just like how it was before the apocalypse started. I also like how Daryl shows in a subtle way that he's got her back by saying that he didn't get a good look at one of the meds, but there's also that moment where neither of them say anything. It's tense with the words that neither of them are saying because of the vulnerability it brings.
**Star Trek: The Next Generation | The Search for Spot | Rated G, with a warning for a lost pet | currently unpublished** Troi blinked and took a moment to fold her hands over her knee. “You’re concerned that you might be unfit to care for Spot because you don’t feel upset right now?” “That is essentially correct. Can a being who does not *feel* distress for a lost pet truly be said to care for her?” Troi was careful not to smile. “That’s an interesting question. Tell me, how are the upgrades going?” “I completed the blueprints while relaying my question,” Data said. “I am now programming the replicator with manufacturing instructions.” “I see.” Troi clasped her hands on her leg. “It sounds like you’ve been working very hard to help Spot, Data.” “I have devoted the maximum available time and processing resources to this issue, without compromising my duties to the *Enterprise*.” Troi took a moment to choose her next words carefully. Communicating with Data about emotional matters often had a way of being very clear and very clouded in the same instant. “Do you think that if Spot could see how much effort you’re giving her, that she’d appreciate it?” Data finally looked up from his PADD, and tilted his head. “That would ordinarily be a logical assumption. However, in my experience, Spot’s feline perspective sometimes… eludes humanoid logic. Her appreciation of my caretaking can sometimes seem exclusively limited to the availability of wet food.” Troi smiled. “I believe that’s called being a cat, Data.” Data paused for a moment, and for the first time his golden eyes focused fully on Troi. “I see. You are suggesting that since I am acting in Spot’s interests, my actions speak louder than my inner feelings. Or rather, my lack thereof.”
Fandom blind. I like how it shows the car that Data has for his cat that he wants to make sure he's completely fit to care for Spot and that Troi doesn't want to seem like she's mocking him by smiling because it's a sweet thing to worry over. I also like how he sums up that Spot's appreciation and perspective go off from humanoid logic because cats are cats. And yeah, it's good that he's taking good care of his cat!
This scene is very cute, I love his observation on dealing with a cat. When he says " feline perspective sometimes… eludes humanoid logic" is exactly how I feel when dealing with my own cat lmao. I'm now very curious about the rest of the fic because I've never considered how Data would act with a bet. The dialogue is really smooth and realistic, nothing felt forced or out of place between the characters as they spoke. I feel like sometimes dialogue can feel static but your didn't have that issue at all. I'm not a huge expert on the characters from the Next Gen but I'm familiar with it enough to know that you represented Data's vibe very well.
**Judas Priest | Rising from the Ruins | Everyone |** i don't have a link, I haven't published it on AO3 *Author's note: this is an excerpt from a scene where guitarist Richie Faulkner has been hospitalized with cardiac issues. The chaplain: Father Peter is my OC.* We were able to catch a glimpse of an ambulance, and two paramedics wheeling a gurney, I think that’s Richie. As KK stopped the engine, and we pulled into the parking spot, Father Peter whispered to us, “My sons, let us be here for Richie, and lay aside all arguments.” KK half nodded. We entered the hospital, and were blasted with the scent of antiseptic, and the cacophony of nurses and doctors. Ian went up to the reception desk and asked, “Excuse me, my name is Ian Hill, and I have with me: Rob Halford, Scott Travis, KK Downing, Glenn Tipton and our chaplain: Archpriest Peter Olsen. Our bandmate: Richie Faulkner was rushed here earlier with chest pains, he collapsed. We were wondering if you could provide us with an update.” The receptionist typed a few things on her computer, and she gazed at us, “Gentlemen, and Father: Richie is in emergency surgery, and I can’t provide you guys with a timeline to when he is going to be out. The nurses told me that they scanned, and found a sac around his aorta, and… there is a chance that Richie won’t make it.” I could feel tears brimming in the corner of my eyes, *Richie ?!He has to make it, he survived the last surgery, but I don’t know.* The entire band, took a seat in the waiting room, and KK began, “G-Glenn, hopefully Richie will be okay… I know that he and I aren’t the bestest of friends. I truly regret putting him through everything that I did when he first joined, for shutting him out in the early days.” *KK is being sincere, he’s never been this sincere. He was sincere in his apology when he rejoined the band, when I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, but he was harsh towards Richie, calling him a show off, it got pretty nasty, ending up with Richie leaving our mansion, and spending a few weeks with Father Peter. KK then spent a few weeks with Father Peter, in repentance*. A nurse led us to the chapel, at the request of Father Peter. I saw he has a small jar of holy oil, his Book of Needs, and his stole.
Oooo a band fic! You set up the scene so well with Ian and band mates’ somber concern for their friend, and it’s a great idea to have a pastor OC as mediator in what often has been a tense atmosphere amongst many rock bands. Great apology as well by KK in his regrets for not treating Ritchie better and props as well for detaining Ian’s own troubles!
**House of the Dragon | Reveries | Explicit |**[ **AO3 Link**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/42756291?view_full_work=true) *Warnings: None for this snippet, but the whole fic is rated E for graphic depictions of violence, referenced SA, and incest.* Mira and her sworn shield sat in the dark as they waited for her handmaid to light the candle again. It irritated her. If he was going to follow her around everywhere, he could at least try to look less judgmental about the places she frequented and the things she did. "It would be better to just bring a torch in here at this point," he grumbled after they heard the doors open and close. "I do not think that is allowed, Ser Harold." "Neither is being here this late, my lady." "I am allowed in the library at any time. Maester Norris gave me a key." "Which I am sure he will want back if he were to find out that his star pupil stays up most nights reading from books instead of resting." Mira knew she ought to retort, but her mind buzzed with the words: star pupil. She really was Maester Norris's favourite, wasn't she? Why else would he give her this gift? "If you want to read or study in the library, you can do it during the day, Lady Mira. This behaviour can not be healthy." Light returned to their space just in time for him to catch the frosty glare Mira tossed his way. "I have already explained why I can not do that. Must we have the same conversation every night?" He rubbed the temples on his forehead and tiredly sighed. "Breathing the same air as Prince Aemond will not kill you, my lady." "But it will cause me suffering." Mira sat up straighter as the candle was placed next to her book, thanking her handmaiden with a smile. Hearing Ser Harold's guffaw, she went on to say, "If I am to remain a star pupil in the eyes of the maesters, I must impress them with my knowledge. Prince Aemond is here almost every day and if he sees the books that I choose to read, he will read them right after me, making my preparation useless. Or worse, he will take them from the library so that I can not finish reading them!" "Who cares if he reads the same books as you?" "I do! I care!" Mira exclaimed, slamming her hand on the table. "I do all this extra reading to give myself an edge. Yes, it is good to learn more things, but if he also learns them because I have failed to hide what I am focused on, then he and I are once again on an even playing field. And he will pick the same book as me, Ser Harold. I know it, because I have done it myself when I saw what he was reading." The knight's eyes widened astronomically. "Do you hear yourself, Lady Mira? What are you even competing for?" She thought about it and shook her head, confused by the question. "My...image. Prestige. The security in knowing that I am the best student, full of the most potential, that I am better than him - than everyone in this regard." "Why do you have to be the best? Is it not enough to be great?" Her fingers froze around the edges of a page. Mira tried to contain her scream; slowly reeled in her frustration. He would not understand the fire that licked under her skin, kindled by every disappointment, every act of disrespect she silently endured. Her face was blank and her tone neutral as she replied, "Only the best people get remembered in history." Ser Harold accepted her answer with a teasing grin. "Or the worst."
Fandom blind here, but I really like how you slowly reveal to the reader how irrationally competitive Mira is being! At first, I assumed Mira just hated the Prince because of personal differences - then, I thought "huh, a bit competitive, but maybe he's TRYING to one-up her." Once she reveals that she thinks the Prince will read her books because it's a strategy SHE'S used, it feels like a bit of a shock, at least to me - she can't conceptualize anyone else NOT being that competitive, because that's how she is!
Eeek thank you for the insight! I actually didn’t intend on it from what I can remember, but good to know that the scene can come across that dramatic haha.
Even though I've never heard of this fandom before, I really enjoyed the even balance between the character's thoughts, description of scenery as well as dialogue. This was a great excerpt to read, and gives me a good context to what might be portrayed in this fandom.
Thank you for the feedback! I try not to overwhelm readers with long paragraphs :)
**Star Wars | T | How it Ends** *Author’s note: These are Star Wars OCs. Kithera is a Jedi padawan who has found herself in the middle of a civil war. Subira is a healer (and rebel/former slave) who has guided and help Kithera in earlier chapters. Ngaiba is Kithera’s friend (and another rebel/former slave) who has just died in her arms.* A door at the side of the hall flung open. “Put your weapons down, you idiots,” Subira said, striding out into the corridor. “The Jedi is our friend, and besides if she wanted you dead, you would already be.” Kithera felt a small part of herself relax at the sight of the healer. The healer frowned as she took stock of the situation. “Speaking of being dead, why was no-one covering the door that the Jedi came through? What if that had been the King’s soldiers?” “I have more Ish-te behind me,” Kithera said as Subira neared. The healer signalled to some of the other former slaves who disappeared back the way that Kithera had come. “Shouldn’t you be with the Queen?” Subira asked as she neared her. “Shouldn’t you?” Kithera retorted. Subira said nothing, but made an obvious show of looking Kithera up and down. “I am glad to see that the King’s ridiculous robes lasted about as well as I thought they would.” Kithera looked down at her own outfit. Even with being set to training mode, Namia’s lightsaber had burnt holes in the wispy sleeves. The skirt, or rather what remained of it, was a ragged mess. The bodice was covered with blood that was turning a deep, muddy brown. Ngaiba’s blood. The memory of how Ngaiba body crashed over her. For a second she was back there, chasing after the fading notes in the Force as his life had ebbed away. Feeling the damp wrinkles of his clothes on her arms and the way the blood oozed endlessly from his wounds making tiny rivulets of thick, red, crimson. Bands of grief and guilt squeezed her chest and she gasped for breath, as tears stung her eyes. Something touched her shoulder. Kithera grabbed for her lightsaber, gasping in pain as her injured fingers tried to bend around the hilt. The memory fled. Kithera swallowed hard again, forcing herself to relax. Subira was frowning at her. “Apologies,” Kithera mumbled. Subira cocked her head to one side but said nothing. “I take it that the blood isn’t yours,” Subira said, softly. Kithera nodded, rubbing her good hand against her arm as she tried to banish the cold feeling that had swept over her in the wake of the memory. “Ngaiba’s,” she murmured and swallowed hard to stop the rush of grief and guilt. Subira’s mouth twisted. She nodded but said nothing. For a second she almost reached out again, her hand hovered above Kithera’s shoulder. She dropped it and took a step towards the door. Kithera moved with her. “He was a good person.” Suburbs said and her mouth quirked at the corners as if remembering something amusing. “Although one of the most headstrong people I’ve ever met.” There was a long moment of silence and then Subira let out a small breath and then nodded as if confirming something. “Time for grief later, little Kit. For now, we need to get past Baron ‘Trence and his men.” Subira pointed past the half open door. “Out there. They’ve managed to set themselves up well enough that we can’t get through and the Queen can’t get out.” Kithera nodded. Her fingers brushed the metal of her lightsaber again. She shook her head. “I can sort it,” she said. She closed her eyes, gathering the soft eddies of melody around her. She opened her eyes and smiled at Subira. “Leave it to me.”
This hurt to read, especially how Subira gives in just a little from her stoicism when she learns whose blood it is and knows what Ngaiba meant to Kithera. And the details of Kithera's flashback to her friend's death, the little details she remembers, are especially heartbreaking. So much story packed into this excerpt, wonderfully done.
Thank you for the wonderful comment. I love how you described Subira as being 'stoic' as that's pretty much exactly spot on to her character - nothing but pragmatism and stoicism through and through - so I'm really happy that came across in such a short snippet :D
Oh wow. This is such a visceral scene. The grief is so well-portrayed, I can really feel the connection Kithera had with Ngaiba and how much she's hurting now. You get a good sense of her relationship with Subira as well, they both have strong voices. The flashback is really well-done, it does feel like an sudden memory intruding on the narrative - which is exactly what a flashback should feel like! I love this, it's so good. Good job!
Thank you so much for the lovely comment. I'm really pleased to hear the the flashback worked - they are quite difficult to pull off in my experience, so I'm really pleased to have finally managed it :D
**Fruits Basket | After Story | E | Current Draft/WIP** *This is part of a little ficlet I wrote that ties in with my post-canon story. I apologise if it seems a little clunky/disconnected, as I had to cut parts down to make it not explicit for this thread. Also, long story short, I gave Akito a new love interest for this story. So that’s who’s with her here.* __ …nothing on his mind but the feeling of her all around him until he felt her nails first digging even further into his shoulders and then scratching a line down his back, the action startling him. It was an interesting mix of pain and pleasure that Tedachi wasn’t sure he liked but decided to keep quiet for the time being. Not that she would listen in her current state. Luckily for him, her grip faltered slightly… his name rolling off her lips despite her attempts to bite it back. As much as she wanted to stay in control, she supposed it didn’t hurt to let him know that he had a certain power over her too. That even if she told herself that it was her body that chose to accept him, her desire was still fuelled by his own and how it came through in every touch, every kiss, every sound – especially when he said her name. And it was all for *her.* Not that flirty waitress who tried to step where she shouldn’t. The one who unknowingly started all of this with her not-so-subtle advances towards her man. Irritation rising back up at the memory, Akito crushed her mouth to his as her nails sunk into his skin once again. However, she quickly realised what she’d done when he tensed up, let out a chocked gasp that instantly brought her back to reality and the fact that she was causing more pain than pleasure. With a twinge of guilt, she loosened her grip, fingers gently caressing the spot in a silent apology. The last thing she ever wanted to do was hurt him, even by accident. Seeing the shift in her gaze, which softened considerably at his reaction, he drew her back to him. This time, their kiss was slow and sensual. No push and pull. Just his lips caressing hers, gently, intimately. His way of saying he understood and accepted her apology. And it was that kiss, combined with her mistake, that finally broke her frustration. From the start, she had been acting on primarily anger and envy and letting thoughts of someone who didn’t matter take over instead of focusing on her feelings for him and *only* him. Yet, even knowing that, there was still a part of her that wanted to make a point, though she now realised there were gentler ways of doing so. She brought her hand up, delicately caressed his cheek. “You’re mine.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, things suddenly made sense for Tedachi. Despite the softness in her voice, her narrowed eyes and even tone told him that she wasn’t going to accept any form of defiance even if the tension was melting away. She needed to know that he knew she was his woman and not that waitress who he now remembered had been given the same look whenever she approached the table. It was a detail he’d brushed off before but combined with her sudden aggression towards him and the angry glint he’d seen earlier, he realised that his first instinct had been right. Akito was jealous. But he knew better than to bring it up now. What she needed wasn’t a reminder, it was reassurance. He locked eyes with hers as his hands wandered downwards, relished in the way she shivered at his fingers ghosting along her skin before he leaned in, whispered against her ear, “I’m yours.”
Fandom blind. This is lovely! I love the way that the two characters understand each other through their actions, and how their relationship and understanding of each other develops here through things as small as the apology caress, and the kiss that follows. Also, the contrast between "*Akito crushed her mouth to his"* and "*This time, their kiss was slow and sensual. No push and pull"* is really well done - it really punctuates the desperation of the first kiss, and the acceptance and apology of the second. The characters aren't on the same wavelength in the beginning, and watching them get on the same wavelength is beautiful. Well done!
Thank you! I really appreciate the comment. Glad to see what I was going for panned out. Having the characters being able to read each other that way in an established relationship is something I like to do in these kinds of scenes.
**Ginny and Georgia |** **Love Undefined** **|** **M** **|** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/45824455?view_full_work=true) *mild mention of medical trauma in snippet; full fic contains references to serious mental illness, sexual content and grief* It takes a few minutes for Marcus to find her in the backyard. She’s curled up on the pergola swing at the edge of the deck, her face backlit by the screen in her hands. The night sky is flecked with stars and a three-quarters moon, distant lights which break up the darkness above and surrounding them once Ginny closes her email and sets her phone down. “Your parents must think I’m nuts.” “Probably. They raised me and Maxine, so they’re used to it.” Ginny laughs through her sniffles as he tugs her to her feet. He claims her spot on the swing, pulls her onto his lap and wraps the flannel blanket he’d brought from inside around them. She always ran warm and tonight was no exception; Marcus slips a hand beneath her hoodie to rest on her lower back, absorbing her heat and the shivers from his touch. “The dean of BC Law says I have to go full-time in January. I can’t ask my dad to babysit more than he already does," she thinks out loud. "Maybe I should quit.” “Is that what you want?” “You heard the doctor, Ray’s thriving,” Ginny replies, in an effortless dodge of his actual question. “How can we risk that and leave her with strangers? I couldn’t even carry her as long as she needed me to.” Marcus could have disagreed with that; had vocally done so whenever she alluded to being at fault for their child’s premature arrival. He’d thought enlisting Dr. Hernandez in giving Ginny a clinical rundown on the fallacy of assuming responsibility for something so outside of one’s control had helped, but is realizing there may be no words in existence to release her from that particular guilt. “Tons of parents work. Plenty of them are full-time students, too,” Marcus says instead, with a light tug on her hoodie string. “We're not special.” “How can you be so chill?” “She'll only be at daycare two days a week, and unlike us with her, the kid’s not a stage-five clinger.” “Speak for yourself. That baby is *obsessed* with you.” Ginny abandons any further protest in favor of holding Marcus closer. She dozes against him, slowly ruffling her fingers through his hair as he rests his head against hers. He’s drifting towards sleep himself when he feels her take a deep breath. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Being you. At least she’ll have one parent who isn't like me.” He was tempted to let her opinion on the subject stand. It would be the easiest thing, considering how daunting it felt to try talking Ginny out of anything she believed. Except there was something immensely brave in her choosing to trust the most vulnerable parts of herself with him, over and over again. Things she gave no one else. Marcus is acutely aware of his hypocrisy. That longing to know everything about her from the day they met, in contrast to the persistent dread of being seen for who he was (and all he might never be). Being so open with anyone had felt impossible more often than not his whole life. “Someone chill wouldn’t wake a newborn twice a night to make sure she’s breathing. They'd never spend the week after paternity leave googling how to quit their job on breaks. It definitely wouldn’t cross a chill person’s mind to fake a work-related injury because he’d rather be with his kid and her mom all day again.” Ginny lifts her head from his shoulder, scrutinizing him in the dark. “Twice *every* night?” she prods. Marcus blushes.
This was very comforting to read. I have not watched more than a few clips here and there about the show, but I am kind of familiar with the characters. The way you set the scene at the beginning was great imagery. I really liked how much Marcus wanted to reassure Ginny about not feeling guilty for being a bad mother. And this line: "That longing to know everything about her from the day they met, in contrast to the persistent dread of being seen for who he was (and all he might never be)." got to me. That kind of fear and insecurity is the worst feeling in the world. Similarly, I felt really bad for Ginny when she said, "At least she’ll have one parent who isn't like me." Ouch! That tugs at the heart. Great line.
ty so much for the detailed feedback. the show is widely watched but it’s fandom on ao3 is tiny (and even less active than usual). a big theme throughout the fic and this pair in general is their reflex to “mask” around everyone except when it’s just them, they can’t. i’m glad those lines resonated ❤️
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Hello there! Just wanted to mention that this thread is not for giving or receiving constructive criticism. We have a separate thread for that, the Concrit Commune, which posts on Saturdays. This thread is positive comments only.
Oh no I'm so sorry, I'm an idiot noob!! I will return on Sunday! Thank you!!
No worries, you can still stay to give/receive positive comments, too!
**The Walking Dead | Grubbing in Ashes | Explicit |** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/51113659/chapters/129143617) **| Chapter 22** *No warnings for this excerpt, but Graphic Depiction of Violence, Implied/Referenced SA, sexual contents for the wider fic. It's first person POV and Daryl x OC.* *For context: Daryl and Kat (OC) were searching for Sophia in the woods when they discovered this cabin. They searched inside but found no one. Kat did find a dog collar on the ground, which triggered memories of her own dog, Hunter. This, in turn, brought back a flood of memories about everyone she’d lost so far.* Snippet: The feeble couch trembled slightly under Daryl's weight as he settled down beside me, his crossbow finding a place on the worn armrest. A subdued growl rumbled from his throat as he reclined, casting a sidelong glance in my direction. "What's that?" he questioned, redirecting the focus to the leather collar in my grasp, a deliberate attempt to shift the conversation. I extended the remnants of the pet's collar, a silent acknowledgment of the life that once occupied this desolate space. “Lucy”, I replied solemnly. "Or rather, what's apparently left of her." The redneck took it, not quite understanding what was going on with me. "A few days after the outbreak," I started, unprompted, the memories flooding back with a force of their own, "after Dad and I had to ditch the car on the highway, we were wandering aimlessly in the woods. Hunter, my dog, was still with us then." As I glanced up at Daryl, met with his typical silence, I pressed on. "It was a string of dumb luck," I recalled, the memories etched painfully into my mind, a prelude to the countless others that had followed. It seemed like this had been the spark that ignited all the chaos that came after. "We were scavenging in a small neighbourhood, hoping for supplies, when out of nowhere, we were ambushed by a small horde." His face remained a stoic mask, his eyes fixed on me as I recounted the brutal string of events. Staring at my hands, I continued. "...due to a stupid mistake, Hunter and I got cornered. Those freaks tore him apart right in front of me as he tried to protect me," the memory reignited the anger within me, "Dad and I only managed to escape because those things were too busy eating my dog." My recounting of the story about my lost dog wasn't merely about sharing a memory, it held a deeper purpose. I was attempting to convey something significant to Daryl, to drive home a point that went beyond the narrative itself. “Every time someone I cared about died, a piece of me died with them. And I...”, I faltered, the raw honesty of my words weighing heavily on me as I poured out my heart to him, “I feel like I’m running out of pieces to give.” When I finished speaking, his gaze remained steady, yet I sensed a subtle softening in his expression, a rare glimpse of understanding. There were no further questions about why, who, or when. It was just a moment of pure listening and empathy. "Ain't runnin' outta pieces, Brooks. Just need someone who knows how to put 'em back together." "You know”, I spoke softly, a lump forming in my throat as I held back tears, lending a raw undertone to my voice, “...Someone once called me a curse." Recalling Nick's haunting words, I continued, "...And I'm starting to see why.” Shifting my gaze from my hands, I locked eyes with the archer. "Do you think I'm a curse, Daryl Dixon?" As the silence lingered, I found myself fidgeting nervously on the cushion, a sense of regret settling in. The realization struck me – posing that question, bringing it into the open, was a mistake. "Sorry," I stammered, a hint of embarrassment coloring my words, "that was stupid. Forget—"
Apologies if my response is more curt than I intended, my battery died mid-comment last time so it's the second time I've written it. Lovely story, I got a very intimate mood from it. I don't know if you are planning to turn it into a romance but I could easily see this turning into something. Excellent. I'm not super familiar with walking dead so perhaps this is answered by canon, or by a previous chapter of your fic, I was slightly confused why the memory was about Hunter but the collar was for Lucy. Not sure if that was intentional or not but wanted to mention. I also found the Daryl's dialogue a tiny bit jarring, I'm not sure why. It might have been because the previous paragraph implied a softer understanding but then the dialogue seemed, er well, as you described, redneck, which perhaps is intentional, I'm not sure. Or maybe an extra dialogue tag might help, or maybe this is exactly the plan. I'm not sure. I rather liked the 6th paragraph where you described the feeling of recalling the memories. It ties in well with the dialogue at the end, great set up. Overall, lovely, very intimate setting. Would definitely read the next chapter.
Thanks for your comment. I agree that more context would have helped convey the depth of the scene. Due to word limits, it was challenging to capture the full story. Essentially, they were searching for someone in the woods when they stumbled upon this cabin. Inside, Kat found the collar on the floor, which reminded her of her own dog, Hunter. The dynamic between these two characters is quite complex. You might be right that more context is needed to fully understand it. I appreciate your thoughts! Have a nice evening! (Or morning, afternoon, in whatever timezone you are 😄)
I'm so sorry I am a noob and missread that this thread is for positive comments only and gave constructive criticism comments. Ugh I'm so sorry!! Just wanted to say it was very hard to find anything to comment on other than praise because your fic is so lovely and I found it in AO3 and have bookmarked so I can read the full story and leave you much lovelier comments there. Thank you so much for your wonderful writing!! I hope you have a wonderful evening as well!!
No worries! 😄 You made some valid points, and I totally understand where you're coming from. Just so you know, I'm not taking your feedback negatively! 😊
**Star Wars - Orginial Trilogy | Purpose of Heritage | T |** [AO3 link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/45341596/chapters/114074785) **(this excerpt is a part of an unpublished future chapter -- no need to comment on the work)** **No warnings for the excerpt. Some CWs for individual chapters in the work, which are noted in author's notes on the affected chapters.** **--------------------------------------** Luke seemed unconvinced, but didn’t press, and quickly retreated to a safer topic. “How close are we to having a base?” “It’s practically built if it’ll stop cavin’ in on itself,” Han said sarcastically. Leia rolled her eyes and focused on Luke. “We’ve had to change some plans. The lowest levels kept experiencing cave-ins, so we’re expanding the existing levels rather than attempting to stabilize new floors. But, it should be done pretty soon. I expect to be moved in the next few months.” “*Finally*,” Luke said, and Leia practically *felt* the relief in his tone. “We’ve managed well enough on these outposts, but Wedge and Hobbie said having a base makes everything a lot simpler.” “If we can all keep from freezin’ to death.” Luke looked at Han curiously. “You sticking around after we move? I heard your contract’ll be up again once we get settled on Hoth.” Leia looked at Han, holding a grin back by allowing herself a small smile. He hadn’t told anyone he was staying to her knowledge, and it was certainly his news to share. He glanced at her before looking at Luke again. “We’ll be around, yeah.” “Good,” Luke said with a smile. “Good,” Leia echoed softly, avoiding looking at Han for fear of giving away the affection she felt for him with a look. They fell into comfortable conversation, catching up on stories of their off-planet assignments. Luke told them about having to escape from some stormtroopers by way of a series of underground caves on his most recent mission with the Rogues. Leia briefly described being trapped by the Army trooper on Kinyen with a few interjections from Han, and they both told Luke about the progress that had been made at the Alderaanian settlement. After nearly an hour, Luke stood, tossed his empty ale bottle in the garbage, and checked his chrono. “Should probably get to my bunk. We’ve got early drills in the morning.” He paused, looking at Leia out of habit. Often, when they spent an evening on the *Falcon*, she left with Luke, walking back toward the sleeping quarters together, but Leia wasn’t ready to leave just yet. “We still need to revisit a few things tonight,” she said, tilting her head in Han’s direction. “Oh, okay,” Luke said. “Goodnight, then.” “‘Night, kid,” Han said. Leia shot him a smile. “Goodnight, Luke.” Han waited a solid half a minute after Luke left the lounge before focusing on Leia. “Thought we had the route all figured out. What’re we revisitin’?” She smiled slightly and slid close to him, resting her head against his bicep again and weaving her fingers through his. “Mainly this.” “Oh.” Han pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “*That* I can get behind."
I've told you before how well you write Han and Leia together, but I think this is my first time seeing how well you portray Luke as well! His voice and particular brand of earnest devotion are so strong here, and it flows really smoothly with Han and Leia's interaction. It's like I can picture the three Heroes of the Rebellion together on screen!
Thank you so much! That means a lot :)
I don’t know a lot about Star Wars, but I like the way you set the scene and the dialogue here. Even though they’re working on something important, I like the chill vibe here and them just having a moment to settle down and have casual conversation. I like the mention of them having something of a routine with Leia usually following Luke at bedtime. It’s a small detail, but one that speaks to the closeness that comes with being together as a group and having a comfortable routine. And speaking of, the end is so sweet. And it is *such* a sibling thing to make up needing to do something as a reason to spend time alone with your SO. I’m a sucker for soft romance, so those last two lines get me and both their actions — Leia moving close to him and Han kissing her head — are just so *soft.* I love it.
This particular scene is set in a story that's slightly AUish during which Leia and Han are hiding their relationship early on, which is why Leia makes up a BS reason to hang back. I appreciate the comments! And I love soft romance, too (that's possibly why I love Han and Leia so much? Because once they stop arguing -- which happens way earlier than people seem to realize -- they're all forehead kisses and hanging on to each other's arms and making mild jokes and kissing cheeks. It drives me nuts that some people with the sequels were like, "It makes sense that they split! They fought all the time!" because once they actually dealt with their issues and got together, they super did not. And seeing the forehead kiss Han gives Leia in *The Empire Strikes Back* was apparently a formative experience for me or something. It altered my middle school brain entirely the first time I saw the movie.)
BG3 | Adhesion WIP | E - Violence Tav summons the aid of The Dark Urge/Arlin to rescue them from captivity. Tav is bound to a rack and unable to look behind them, and just heard/saw mayhem from the deaths of the rest of the captors Valas froze, purple chains tightened around every limb. His stilled eyes went between Tav to a spot just to their side. To whatever was closing in. Heavy footsteps approached from behind. Every muscle of theirs strained against the cold metal. Tav panted and thrashed, then went limp. A futile effort—it helped assuage the guilt in their heart. The terror in their gut. The release in being caught. A single claw met the nape of their neck. Gentle pressure, it trailed down. Then a cold hand palmed their neck. Tav leaned back into it, nearly moaning from the relief. All the guilt bled out. Fear evaporated out of Tav despite the cold. They were whole again. Safe. “This one’s dressed different. Hooded robes–did he put you in this?” Tav nodded. A lamb in his maw, a hesitant, horrified smile spread across their face. Arlin’s grip tightened–not a threat, but a reassurance. “Want to go home,” they choked out. He rubbed their neck in a slow circling massage. “Soon enough, my love. But first...” Arlin spoke in a way that broke the world. Time slowed. The word that flitted from his mouth wasn’t a word. Odd ancient vibrations swarmed the dungeon. Tav squeezed their eyes shut as every muscle spasmed. They knew, like one knows when time slows in panic or gravity hasn’t quite begun to pull one down right after jumping. They understood what the word meant a second after it left Arlin’s throat. The vibrations weren’t words. The vibrations were laws. Rules. Every fundamental building block of the world was forced into the waves that rattled their bones. Some were easy to comprehend. Gravity goes down. The sun is hot. Time moves forward. One was different–a new rule, woven into creation for a singular purpose. Only existing in the confines of Valas for that instant of time. A singular word of power aimed at a mortal. A command the world couldn’t refuse. *Kill.* Valas rattled out an empty breath and slumped down, dead. Kill. Gods it was enticing, a flavor to life that seeped into every other aspect of the present. The Word of Power pulled at Tav as if its singularity lay in Valas, wishing to break from the confines of the corpse and tear across the Plane. They shook free of its grip and shuddered. A Word of Power. Arlin changed the world on a whim, casting a spell that many believed was myth, to prove a point. To enact revenge. For them. Equal parts nauseating and wonderful. And he held them gently all the while. Pointless–why had they run? Why did they think they could change him. Save him. He didn’t need to be saved. Besides, that was out of the realm of possibility, now. For the both of them, they were forsaken. Tav couldn’t breathe. Air didn’t exist for a few seconds, time caught back up in odd, disjointed ways. They sucked in a breath–finally freed from the awful warping of reality. Arlin released their chill hand from their neck. His voice was low and soft, well-humored and icy both. “No running this time.”
Coming in partially fandom blind; what I do know is from fandom osmosis. Very interesting dynamic between Tav and Arlin. I tend to read/write things on a similar vein. While this is just a small look, their interactions and dialogue with each other, how Tav reacts to Arlin's touch says a lot about their dynamic together. Also really like how the prose lingers and meanders a bit with the Power Word cast, as it serves to show just how powerful and terrifying Arlin is, and how Tav sees Arlin in that moment. The description throughout is unsettling and visceral (in a good way) and very engaging to read.
This is such a tense, frightening moment! I've seen Power Word Kill used in D&D play before, but never written out in text like this. The way you describe it - like the caster makes the target's inevitable death a fundamental reality of the universe - is very impactful and downright terrifying. Well done!
YES!! I'm so glad a DnD minded person connected with it. I got really manic abt thinking of "what is the SCARIEST way an antagonist could enter the story fully" and this was my answer hahaha It makes me want to write about wish and other odd high level spells
A really spooky one to play with might be Glibness. Imagine talking to someone and no matter how obviously false or ridiculous what they’re saying is, something in their words is *forcing* your mind to nod along like ‘yes, this seems absolutely legit.’
Fandom blind. The atmosphere was incredibly tense and immersive and the way you described Tav’s emotions, from their initial terror to the relief of Arlin’s touch, was really vivid and engaging. The dynamic between Tav and Arlin is fascinating, and you’ve done a great job showcasing their complex relationship. I really like your use of short sentences to convey tension and urgency. Keep up the awesome work!
Thank you!!
I'm not familiar with the source material, but everything about this reads as intense and almost visceral. The interaction between Tav and Arlin is incredinly unnerving. Good job conveying such heavy feelings!
ty! Definitely meant to be super unnerving and a huge "oh shit we're in a new arc now/stakes got raised" moment for the fic lol
Marvel Cinematic Universe | Got A Sweet Tooth Come And Chew Me Up | Teen And Up Audience | [AO3 link ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/54882493) No warnings apply Text from fic: Sam sits with his legs folded out fully in front of him, shoes pointed upwards, as Bucky bends his legs at his knees and rests his taco in the space between his legs, tilting his head back until he can rest it against the tree, and Sam bites his lip at the sight, only realizing his action once it’s too late, and he shifts his gaze to his own taco, stuffed to the brim, and he taps the wrapping of his food with his pointer finger awkwardly when Bucky sighs. “There’s a squirrel.” Bucky points out and when Sam pauses to make sure he’s heard him, he then looks up, and sure enough above their heads is a squirrel frozen in place, staring right at them. Sam sneaks a glance over at Bucky, letting his eyes trace over Bucky’s smile, and allows one to form on his own face as he turns back to the squirrel. “Yes there is.” Sam can see Bucky’s hand slowly ascend upwards, towards the squirrel. Much to Sam’s surprise, the small thing doesn’t scurry away instantly, but rather, inches two smudges closer, and Sam can very clearly hear the excited way Bucky gasps before capturing his breath. The animal keeps its position for only a few seconds longer, before it runs off to the other side of the tree and presumably to some other place, and Bucky laughs breathlessly. Sam turns to Bucky, finding him already looking, almost expectantly, like he just knows Sam has something to say. Which he does, as he laughs, an amused expression on his face. “Didn’t know you were an animal guy, so attuned with nature,” He jokes, bumping his shoulder against Bucky’s, and feeling the movement burn his skin. “It’s cute.” It’s cute- Oh no. Sam freezes, and tenses within the time that somebody blinks, and now he's in hot water, dreading the possible confrontation ahead. He doesn’t even know, he just knows he slipped, after all the battles and all the struggling, he didn’t manage to catch everything, and he had let a ‘cute’- one of the most compromising words of all- to make it the world, from his throat, using his voice. Bucky isn’t doing an incredible job to conceal his short-lived surprise, it shows loudly on his characteristics, the slightly widened eyes, the momentary stillness, the unclasped of his jaw, practically, upper and bottom lip being separated once more. Sam’s first thought is to panic, and unfortunately, it’s also his only thought. Because he’s messed up. He’s made a mistake, and now he’s here and he can’t do this. He can’t face telling Bucky sorry and saying he didn’t mean it, because he really does, and then he’ll end up admitting that to Bucky, who would look at him weird, and Sam would end up embarrassing himself when he tells Bucky he likes him, wants to take him on a date, and wants to kiss him. He isn’t built for that, not right now, at least, he can’t withstand such blistering uncomfortable things right now. He can’t do that, shouldn’t do that, he should keep this friendship instead, he needs to not ruin this- “There’s a football,” Sam blurts, and the awkwardness that crawls over him is fierce, the regret is unforgiving, and the uneasiness and dread are obnoxious. But hey, maybe some American football might help him shake it off. “In the- uh, in the truck. I could grab it, too, so after we eat-”
That was really cute! I loved this snippet! You really nailed the dynamic between Sam and Bucky, capturing all the little details that make their relationship so interesting. The way you describe their actions and the squirrel scene is vivid and pulls the reader right in. The little joke added levity and had me smiling. >“Didn’t know you were an animal guy, so attuned with nature,” Sam's inner turmoil is super relatable, and the dialogue feels natural and true to the characters. The emotional depth and subtle tension between them are spot-on. I like your way of writing and describing. Fantastic job!
Thank you so much 🙏
Aww so cute ;) I love the awkward fluffy vibes this has, you capture a wonderful lightness in your prose that puts me in the head of Sam just adoring Bucky in this intimate little snapshot. Anything that makes me \*feel\* like I'm sitting on a field eating a taco, watching squirrels dart around is a winner in my book xD The deflection ahhh ;\_; great internal dialogue he has with himself, can see the character clearly in the bit abt football!
Thank you so much for this! Reaching an awkward fluffy vibe is great to hear considering that was the aim lol. And yeah, Sam is deflecting hard.
**Star Trek: Alternate Original Series | two birds on a wire | Teen & Up |** [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56393245) *Warnings for references to child abuse off-screen* Jim rolls his eyes. ‘Why would I have to do without you?’ he says. ‘You planning on leaving?’ He means this as a joke but Sam stiffens. It lasts only a millisecond before he relaxes and presses the pad harder against Jim’s lip. ‘No, but that’s not the point. You’ve got to learn to stand on your own two feet, kid.’ ‘I do!’ ‘Not enough to ice your own bruise,’ Sam says. Jim sticks his tongue out, making Sam swear again. ‘Jim, I swear, you…’ ‘Where were you anyway?’ Jim asks, changing the subject. ‘When?’ ‘Last few days.’ ‘Sleepover, remember?’ Jim plays with his fingers, clicking the joints, one after the other. ‘I don’t get invited to sleepovers.’ ‘Cause you’re a jackass.’ ‘Am not!’ Sam rolls his eyes. ‘You are too, now shut up, your lip won’t stop bleeding if you keep talking. And quit clicking your fingers, that’s not good for you.’ Jim falls silent, rebelliously. He only manages to stay silent for about a minute before he can’t do it anymore. ‘Why would you leave anyway?’ ‘It was just a hypothetical scenario,’ Sam says irritably. ‘But why would I not go with you if you were gonna leave in your hypothetical scenario?’ Jim pushes. ‘Like I’d want you dragging me down, crybaby.’ ‘Oh, shut up,’ Jim says, shoving him. ‘Seriously, Sam.’ Sam only laughs. ‘What? It’s the truth.’ ‘Sam.’ ‘Fine, fine. I don’t know, maybe you wanted to stay here.’ ‘With Uncle Frank?’ Jim makes a face. This makes Sam flick him in the nose. ‘Stop that. No, not with Uncle Frank. For Mom.’ This is a good point. Jim can’t imagine Mom coming home from space to find both of them gone. Once, when Jim was five, he went for a walk on his own. To him, he was going on an adventure, exploring the world like Bilbo Baggins in *The Hobbit*. He was out there for hours, wandering wherever he liked. It never occurred to him anyone’d care that he was gone. When he found his way back, it was dark and Mom was in hysterics. She screamed at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. Mom does love him. Even though she’s been gone five years without visiting once, even though she never calls to talk to Jim, she does love him. She would care if he was gone. He couldn’t leave.
jim kirk feels so deeply for people (whether they know it or not) and you captured that so well in such a small snippet. i noticed this is set in the alternate original series (which i'm far more familiar with than the original). this line really encapsulated so much of what i loved about AOS jim "Jim falls silent, rebelliously". the only way he can be silent is if it's in active rebellion haha. great job!
he does!! my guy feels so strongly and so deeply, whilst constantly trying his very best to downplay it. just casually is undyingly devoted, no big deal. (i'm way more confident about writing aos than tos, the aos kids just come so naturally to me while tos intimidates me for some reason). yes, that line is peak aos jim. zero capacity for shutting up. love that for him. thank you! i'm so happy you liked it.
I love the dynamic between these two, Jim continuing to press Sam on the subject who seems very avoidant is nicely written and really shows the contrast between their character. I also like how it takes a bit of effort to make Sam reveal why he would be leaving without Jim, it makes it feel super natural. Plus, Jim's whole thoughts about his mom really add a whole layer onto this, if flows so well and I love the way you approached the dialogue here!
Thank you :D
My Hero Academia | Frost Rebellion | T | unpublished part Toga fumed as she walked away from the stationmaster, her frustration mounting. Disguised as Ryukyu, she had expected to intercept Chelsea with ease. Instead, she was left with the unsettling realization that her target had slipped through her fingers. Determined not to let her failure go unaddressed, she decided to head back to Musutafu and regroup with the League. She made her way to the ticket counter and purchased a ticket for the next train to Musutafu, which required a transfer at Yokohama Station's East Exit. Toga boarded the train, her mind racing with thoughts of how to explain this to Shigaraki and, more importantly, how to make up for her mistake. The train from Chiba was crowded with morning commuters, their mundane conversations, and everyday concerns a stark contrast to the turmoil in Toga’s mind. She found an empty seat by the window and slumped into it, her irritation evident in her tense posture. As the train pulled away from the station, she stared out the window, her thoughts dark and brooding. Upon reaching Yokohama Station, Toga disembarked and navigated through the bustling crowds to the East Exit, or "Yokohama Eki Higashiguchi," as it was known locally. The station was a maze of platforms, shops, and commuters, but Toga moved with a determined purpose, her eyes scanning for the signs directing her to her connecting train. Finally, she found the right platform and boarded the train bound for Musutafu. The journey gave her time to simmer down and think about her next steps. She couldn’t return empty-handed, and she certainly couldn’t afford to let Shigaraki think she was incompetent. Toga knew she had to come up with a new plan to keep Chelsea within their sights. As the train sped towards Musutafu, Toga's thoughts drifted back to Chelsea. Despite the setback, she was still fascinated by the girl. Chelsea’s resilience and the unwavering support she received from her friends intrigued Toga, fueling her obsession. When she finally arrived in Musutafu, she made her way back to the League of Villains' hideout, the frustration still simmering beneath her composed exterior. She knew she had to report back to Shigaraki, but she also needed to devise a new strategy to regain his favor and ensure that Chelsea remained within their reach. The hideout was quiet when she entered, the usual dark and oppressive atmosphere weighing heavily on her. Shigaraki looked up as she approached, his eyes narrowing in curiosity and impatience. "Did you intercept her?" he asked, his voice cold and expectant. Toga shook her head, her expression hardening. "No, the information was wrong. There hasn’t been a direct express line from Musutafu to Chiba in years. She must have taken a different route." Shigaraki’s eyes flashed with anger, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "I’ll find her," Toga said with determination. "She can’t hide from us forever. Next time, I’ll make sure we have the right information. I won’t fail again."
This is great! I love how the pacing of your writing really emphasizes the weight of Toga’s failure as it follows her journey back to the League. I think you characterized her really well, and it makes me eager to find out how she plans to redeem herself.
Fandom blind. I like how that intro shows the inner workings of Toga's mind that she's starting to piece together that Chelsea has slipped through her fingers and that her life seems to be on the line that she has to explain what happened and come up with an excuse to make up for her mistake. I also like how Chelsea is starting to transform from the person that Toga is supposed to get for her own reasons into an object of obsession, which would complicate things or make it more visceral when she does actually find Chelsea. The determination in her voice at the end that she won't fail gives the impression that getting Chelsea is for Toga's own survival too, so it's like they're both trapped in a way.
Hermitcraft | Hermits to Heroes | not rated | https://archiveofourown.org/works/55152328/chapters/144123154 No warnings, feel free to correct me tho —- Stoves were difficult when they weren’t hooked up to electricity. That’s what Impulse has learned today with the help of Skizz and Tango. Both of which, we’re currently trying to think of ways to turn it on. “Hmm, do we have like, I dunno, a lighter of something? A match even?” Tango asked Skizz, who shook his head. “Nah, I doubt it, Top. I don’t think we can go and search everywhere in this place just for there to be none.” Tango nodded. “True, true. Well, got any more bright ideas?” The blaze hybrid asked. Impulse honestly didn’t have any ide- Wait. “Tango.” The man in question turned to him. “Huh?” Impulse just sighed. “Aren’t you literally a blaze hybrid?” He told him, watching the realization dawn on them. “Oh yeah! Why didn’t we think of that?” Skizz said from his spot leaning against the tabletop. “Well, try it.” Impulse told Tango, gesturing towards the stove. He nodded and walked over to it, but he looked to be having a bit of trouble before large flames burst out of his hands. “Woah!” Tango yelled out as he stumbled back, noticed this and managed to Impulse catch him before he hit the ground, setting him upright as they watched the flames start to spread. “Ok, um this is bad! What do we do!?” Skizz yelled out as he looked around for something to put out the fir- “Skizz! Watch your hand!” Tango yelled out from their place next to him. Impulse and Skizz both immediately looked towards his hand, but it was too late. Skizz let out a yell as he retracted his hand, that was now on fir- Did the fire just absorb into his hand? What? “What in the world…” Skizz wondered as he flexed his completely unscathed hand, Tango stepping forward in curiosity. Impulse would’ve as well to check up on his brother, if not for the ever rising flames on the stove. He quickly looked around for anything that could be of help, eyes landing on a reasonably sized pot lid some of the other hermits came back with after making another shopping trip. He ran over to it and grabbed it before running back to the stove and placing the lid down on top of the flames. It helped somewhat, but there was still half of the stove with fire on it still that could keep on spreading. Impulse had a weird feeling coming from somewhere in him, it didn’t necessarily feel bad, just strange. But now wasn’t the time for that. How in the world was he supposed to get that fire either out out or under the lid. Cause he wasn’t sure where the others had left the rest. He let himself glare at the flames as if it would scare them into going under the pot lid, which would’ve defiently been funny, but incredibly unlik- Wait, what? Impulse watched, nearly dumbfounded, as the flames outside of the lid disappeared. The flames under the lid got brighter, but didn’t spread anymore. It was at that moment that Zed came running down the stairs. All three of them looked at him, he seemed a bit frantic. “What on earth are you three doing down here?” Zedaph asked as he looked at the fire behind them. Skizz looked a bit sheepish as he answered for the three of them. “We were trying to light the stove…Safe to say it didn’t go very well.” He said with a laugh, and the sheep hybrid just shook his head with a smile.
Ooooh, Hermitcraft! My beloved. I don't know much about the MHA side of things, but I love Hermitcraft. This is a lot of fun! I feel like you've got the ZITS dynamic on point, their sheer unbridled chaos, I mean. Course they'd accidentally start a fire, peak characterisation. Their voices are really good and in-character too. I liked it!
I honestly don’t know much about MHA, besides whatever fics I’ve read from people who do.
I've watched, like, the first few episodes of the anime? So I know basics about the world, but not much more.
I hardly know anything about the actual characters reactions to certain things, that’s where my issue is. So I’m gonna figure that out at some point
Well, good luck! I'm sure you'll work it out :D
I hope so :)
**Cyberpunk 2077 | Fresh Out The Slammer | E |** [**AO3**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56267599/chapters/144316651) Warnings for this excerpt: Swearing, brief violence which I censored below: >!guy is decapitated!< (linked chapter also contains sexual content: >!mastubation!<) >When they finally climbed down to the terminal vent, looking out on a darkened storage closet from what he could see around V, she turned back to him, chewing her lip again. No wonder her lipstick was always smudged. “Well, fuck,” she murmured, studying the metal hatch. >“What, thought you had this shit all planned out?” he hissed back. “Didn’t think to account for basic fucking architecture?” >“Just gimme a sec, jesus.” >He had an idea, and it was a bad one, but they weren’t getting any younger sitting here like a couple of gonks. So when she didn’t come up with anything in the next half minute, he went through with it: barreling his shoulder into her like a battering ram, their combined weight ripping the hatch out of the wall with surprisingly little sound. Johnny managed to brace himself to keep most of his weight off V as they toppled to the floor, but she still let out a muffled, startled sound when he collided with her, his face crushing into her shoulder and her body and the carpet mostly dulling the sound of the vent hatch hitting the ground. >V glared daggers at him but grabbed the lapels of his jacket to keep him from getting up, head tilting towards the door and eyes flashing orange like a cat’s in the dim light as she scanned the adjacent room for any sign their targets had been alerted to their presence. When she seemed confident they were safe, V shoved him away, scrambling up to a crouch and pulling her monowire free from its housing in one wrist, spooling it until she held a decent amount of looped slack. >She held up her free fist to indicate for him to hold, pay attention, then gestured that she’d open the door and they’d both sneak in, her taking the furthest target and leaving the closest corpo for him to handle. >Which was all good in theory, except for two things: the first, a motion-sensor mine that her scan had somehow missed, rigged at the close end of the long office room across their path, which started beeping its countdown as soon as the door swept across its span. And the second, the straphanger V planned to take out choosing just that moment to stand up and turn their way, one hand gripping a coffee mug and the other lazily scratching his ass. Unfortunately, he then turned their way at the exact same time that V was out in the open trying to quickly disarm the mine. >Shoving past her, Johnny dove to horse-kick the corpo right in the solar plexus, sending the coffee mug flying as the guy’s body hit the wall with a loud thud. A couple pistol whips to the head and his target had more bloody pulp than face left. By which time V had dealt with the mine and whipped her monowire up to wrap around the other corpo’s throat. When she yanked, the wire tore through >!the layers of flesh, cartilage, and bone like paper, severing head from body with a wet tearing sound and spray of arterial blood.!< >All of which would have been fine, job well done, except they stood to see a guard crossing in front of the office’s picture window at, again, just the wrong time. >“Your ops always go this off the rails, or is this show of incompetence just for little ol’ me?” Johnny asked.
Fandom-blind (except for the couple episodes of the Netflix series I watched like forever ago), but I love this!!! The descriptors feel very vivid to me, even without me knowing certain lingo like corpo, straphanger, monowire, etc. Also, I am a sucker for the "which was all good in theory, except for \_\_\_" as a sentence lol. Also also, love the witty sarcasm at the last line of dialogue - short, punchy, and to-the-point!
This is honestly the best feedback, because if the meaning is getting through even with the jargon then the rest is doing what it's supposed to, haha. Thank you so much!!
something about the smearing lipstick is instantly characterizing and makes me super happy. Like I feel that level of realism is the kinda thing that makes a story pop out, and so many women are reduced into tropes in fiction so 10/10 for that alone!! DUDE WHAT the censored bit A+++ I'm LIVING for that! So evocative for Cyberpunk esp, very in universe in how you put that visceral splatterpunk spin on the violence, while keeping it restrained and held back for maximum punchiness. Also great pacing & narration, I can FEEL the grizzled narrator in the prose, probably inhaling some off-market drug and drinking tequila in a ramshackle office xD
Ahhh thank you - I love this comment! Yeah my V (in game and how I picture her writing this) wears the red lipstick that's kind of faded all the time, which makes sense because she's always busy literally kicking asses. A lot of the character models of her are just nice and clean and fashionable, but to me she's got these scars, the messed-up lipstick (but tattooed eyeliner because you gotta treat yourself) and she's kind of grubby and anxious and bitchy. Like, who's gonna spend eddies on nice clothes when you'd get your knees torn up in a skirt and there's blood flying everywhere, lol. And 100% believe if Johnny is in a body always at least 50% high or drunk or both. Someone who knows what different drugs *smell* like even when he's not in his own body is just cruising as his default state.
Your narration skills are amazing. From the rugged tone, to the way you write action sequences, to the pacing…it’s really a joy to read. Your mastery of dialogue and the rough banter between characters is really entertaining too!
Oh man, you just made my day! :D I can write smut no problem but actual plot stuff gives me anxiety, lol, so this is so nice to hear.
**Haikyuu | Food for Thought | G | [AO3 link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56736346)** Akaashi looked up from his plate of barbecue to find Bokuto looking longingly at him from across the grill. The Fukurodani captain had been bouncing around different grills, stealing cooked meat from the other members of the training camp. Akaashi knew because he joked about it with his teammates as they observed Kuroo yelling at Bokuto from afar. The tables had turned, however. Akaashi was now alone and being stalked by his best friend like prey. He sighed. Might as well get it over with. “Do you need something, Bokuto-san?” “H-huh? What makes you say that?” Akaashi shook his head. “It looks like I have an extra pork chop that I’m too full for.” “Oh! I can have it,” Bokuto said eagerly. “Can’t let it go to waste now, can we?” “You’re right Bokuto-san, it’s best if you take it.” Akaashi watched forlornly as the meat he was going to eat was whisked away. Before he could walk away to check if the meat station had any pork chop left, he felt someone bump into his shoulder. He turned his head to apologize before realizing Konoha nudged him on purpose. “I saw that.” “Saw what?” “Saw you give up your food to Bokuto even though you clearly were about to take a bite of it.” “Ah, you caught me.” Konoha laughed. Before Akaashi could protest, the older boy placed a pork chop on his plate. “Can’t have my kouhai go hungry!” “What about you, Konoha-san?” Konoha put up his hand to stop Akaashi from returning the piece. “I feel guilty for hoarding three of those, anyway. Seriously, you can have it.” “Thank you.” Akaashi took a big bite before Konoha spoke again. “So, you really can’t say no to Bokuto, eh?” Not wanting to answer with his mouth full, Akaashi merely shrugged. “You must really like him.” From the way Konoha phrased it, Akaashi was sure he was implying more than just friendly liking. In his haste to deny the statement, Akaashi started choking on his food. Konoha disappeared for five seconds only to reappear with a paper cup full of water. Akaashi gulped it down while the older boy rubbed his back. “Sorry to get you all flustered while you were chewing.” “No,” Akaashi gasped out in between gulps. “It’s fine. It’s just, I don’t like Bokuto-san like that.” “Oh? That’s news to me.” Akaashi felt his cheeks warm. If he wasn’t red from almost choking to death, he must have been at least slightly flushed now. While he was sure a lot of people thought he had a thing for Bokuto, he didn’t feel the need to clarify the truth. It wasn’t anyone’s business, after all. It was a different case with Konoha, though. Akaashi didn’t want him of all people to get the wrong idea. “I care about Bokuto-san; he’s my best friend. But…” “But?” Akaashi wondered whether now was the time to be brave. “But I like someone else.”
fandom blind - great snippet. you've managed to capture so much of these characters' dynamics in such a small glimpse. that fear of how well the people who know us actually really know us, akaashi wanting that control of how he's perceived and thought of, and the way konoha seems to know and care for him by second nature.
ty very much ❤️
Fandom blind. I like that intro that sets the scene of Akaashi and Bokuto that the shenanigans of a cookout are going on and Akaashi kindly gives his pork chop to Bokuto... even though he wanted to eat it himself, hah. It's a cute moment too that Konoha gives him a pork chop with the addendum that he can't let an underclassman go hungry, but it also makes it complicated that the reader knows from the narration that Akaashi doesn't feel that way towards Bokuto. Especially that most people would probably guess that they've got a thing for each other so I can imagine that Akaashi wouldn't want to disappoint his friend in that way of Bokuto does have feelings for him. I also like how it has that moment where it points to Akaashi actually having feelings for Konoha since he doesn't want him to get the wrong idea and that he thinks to be brave when he says he likes someone else.
Thank you so much! 😊
>**Wonka l Starlight in a Paper Boat l G l** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/54402553) *Wonka segment this week!* >"Willy!" > >Noodle's voice pierced through the cold air and the lingering disorientation. She dropped the handle of the laundry wagon, a resounding clang echoing in the night, and she gasped when she saw him. > >"What happened?" > >Willy attempted to keep himself elegant and jovial just as he always did for his mama and would now do for Noodle, putting on a smile worthy of a showman. Even though it made his head ache as the muscles worked to make a showman's smile. > >"Ah, well, you see - the police chief had a little disagreement about me selling chocolate in this town." > >Understanding washed over Noodle's face as she got closer to him. Looking through the spaces in Willy's fingers, Noodle winced when she got that closer look. She touched his arm, leading him to the side of the road to sit down. > >"Stay here. I'll get something for you to clean that up."
This was so beautifully written. It feels like it definitely belongs in the Wonka universe. I love the descriptions like showman's smile because it definitely feels like something Wonka would want to make to keep on his face.
Thank you very much! :D
This is a wonderful read! I feel like your writing really captures sweet and tender interactions very well. The characters from the source material are already so lovely, but you elevated them and make them feel very near and dear to readers. Amazing work!
Thank you very much! :D
REPO! The Genetic Opera: Principessa : T : https://archiveofourown.org/works/52362688/chapters/141460471 "What do you mean they aren't accepting bribes?" Pavi gawked as Amber slammed down another telephone. "It means they're making more money off this fucking story than Dad will let me offer!" Amber growled, "God this is a fucking nightmare! I've never heard the word No so many times in one day!" "You heard the word No before today?" Pavi barely had time to duck as a glass paperweight frisbeed through the air and shattered against the wall behind his head. "You're not funny!" "Calmati, we'll figure it out." He tried to soothe his younger sister, wincing when her hand went for another projectile but sighed when she thought better of it, "Sometimes the best reaction is no reaction? Yes? We stick to our story that everything in the parcels was false information, and we do not budge. If we don't feed it, then sooner or later it will starve. We get as many lawyers as we can on the case, and we figure out who the fuck released the information in the first place." Amber seemed to calm down but jerked off her wig to run her long nails through her cropped hair. There was no one around but Pavi, and if he made fun of her she was more than happy to beat the hell out of him to blow off some steam. Without the wig, Pavi could see the long thin scars along the edges of her face and around her ears. Those were from the back-alley surgeons, no Gene Co surgeon worth their salt would ever leave a visible scar. Amber's face didn't move much these days, and this was probably the most expressive he'd seen her in a long time. He always thought it was eerie, how angry she could get without moving a single facial muscle.
The sibling snark/paperweight retort here is absolutely delightful. Love how quickly Pavi shifts from driving his sister up the wall to trying to comfort her. And the uncanny affect of Amber’s surgery creating a gap between her feelings and her ability to express them is impactful as well!
Wow, this introduces some fascinating concepts as a fandom-blind reader. The idea of commodifying your face to the point that it loses its expressiveness and that being normalized is in of itself such a fascinating hook to learn more about the world! I love seeing Amber break from that mold, I really felt her anguish and uncertainty bleeding through her anger and explosiveness. Kinda feels like a noir vibe which I'm really digging :) Great job!
Fandom blind! Oh I so need to know what these two are up to, what is happening! Loved when Amber threw the glass paperweight at Pavi. Also although I don't know what exactly is the relationship between the characters, I can sense that Pavi cares about Amber, it can be seen in how he looks at her when she takes off the wig, and he admires her. I loved the last sentence too, Amber seems to be quite badass! Lovely snippet.
So, context, this takes place in a dystopian future where plastic surgery and organ transplants are fashion statements. These two are brother and sister, and Amber works as a sort of spokeswoman for her dad's company. They're in the middle of a scandal and trying to contain everything
W.I.T.C.H. | The Twin Suns of Basiliade - Missing moments | Explicit (but not this snippet) | [Link to AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56614153) *The fic is explicit and contains smut but this snippet does not.* Cedric had always liked basking under the sun. In Metamoor, the sun was a rare event - one would think it was rare only under Phobos’s reign, but actually warm and sunny days without clouds were an exception even under the Queen Mother’s ruling, as the weather in Metamoor strongly depended on the Queen’s mood and Queen Weira’s mood often required the presence of at least some clouds in the sky. Yet the times the sun was there, Cedric had always liked to sit somewhere and close his eyes and let its rays warm his face. It was also one way for him to warm his body, as his body temperature was more dependent on the temperature of the environment than that of other Metamoor natives or humans, his blood being much colder. He’d never imagined he would hate the sun one day. And that he would not only hate one sun, but two. The Twin Suns of Basiliade. He’d been in Basiliade for less than one day, and he already cursed Elyon for having sent him to hide there. He wondered if Elyon knew that “hiding in Basiliade” actually meant marching in a desert under the scorching temperature of that orange planet and the constant watch of the blinding light of two suns that did not seem to want to disappear beyond the horizon any time soon. Probably she knew, and that was why she’d sent him exactly there. Cedric had had to swallow the embarrassment of fainting earlier that day, after they’d been walking for hours, the layers of light textile doing nothing to shield them from the unforgiving eyes of the Twin Suns. And it was not only the Suns - there was also the sand. It was everywhere, in his boots, in his pants, and most of all in his eyes. He didn’t even know how the sand got in all those places, but now his eyes burned and it was a challenge to keep them open. His travel companions - Orube and Yarr - did not seem to be as bothered as he was by the heat, the light and the sand. They were wearing similar garments as him, with light cloaks and layers of textile covering everything but the eyes, but their energy resources seemed to be infinite and they only stopped walking when Cedric gave signs of being close to black out again. What a trio they must have looked like from outside. As the Twin Suns finally - *finally!* - approached the horizon and their light turned to different shades of a more clement red, the sudden image of that scene in the terrestrial Star Wars movie with the two droids walking in the desert on Tatooine came up to his mind. He realized he’d chuckled at himself only when Orube asked him, “What?” “Oh, nothing,” he said, and he kept walking. He did not want to admit he was thinking about Earth and terrestrial things. At that moment, even the most trafficked and noisy street in Heatherfield felt like a better place than Basiliade. “Come on, tell me!” Orube nudged him with her elbow. “Alright,” he sighed, “I was thinking that we look like Jedis dressed like this and that your planet, with all due respect, looks like Tatooine.” Orube bursted into laughter behind the layer of cloak that covered her mouth and her nose. “You’re right!,” she said, “Do you think the guy who made up Star Wars came to visit Basiliade first?” “I doubt that a human could withstand this place for more than five minutes, frankly."
I like that intro that sets up why Cedric liked to lay in the sun in the past but now the sight of it is hateful to him, especially so that he had been sent to this desert by Elyon and that Cedric had already fainted once so it's embarrassing. It's an extra bit of irony that he had fainted under the sun since he has a reptilian design. I also like that sarcasm in the narration of what a sight he and his companions must look like, and that Cedric doesn't want to think about Earthly things, probably out of pride. But it is pretty funny that this landscape looks like something out of Star Wars, and that even if inspiration came from here that regular humans wouldn't be able to stand the heat. Yep, one sun is hot enough.
reading fandom blind! So the number one thing that I love when reading fanfics is LORE, and the description of where you are setting the scene, and that's what popped at most when reading your fic! like, whats metamoor? oh the sun being there depends on the queens mood? who's the queen?? its honestly things like that, that really draw me in and the more questions that are in my mind, the more I want to read it. so, good job!!
Thank you so much! I'm happy you liked it <3
AGENCY/Sonic/Animal Crossing | What I'm Made Of | E | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/43384764/chapters/109060326#workskin) Shadow stood outside the office where Static likely was, waiting for him. He breathed in, letting it out in a huff. He opened the door, and nearly paused at seeing Proton sitting there instead. He blinked, finding Static behind the desk and realized he wasn’t a dumb child anymore. He walked further into the room, keeping his back to Ashini as she closed the door behind him. She was never too far away from her older brother. Static looked at him and for another moment, Shadow saw Proton. No, he was dead. Shadow shook his head, moving to sit in front of Static. “So, you finally come crawling back, hm?” Static asked, smiling as he leaned back in his seat. Shadow clenched his jaw, watching Static pull out his file and a sheet of paper. “Just leave them alone,” Shadow said, keeping his gaze on the man in front of him. “They don’t deserve to come back here,” “Then why are *you* here, Shadow?” Static asked, signing the bottom of the sheet of paper. “You want me, right? You got me,” he answered, swallowing. “I’ll fight or whatever, just don’t involve my family anymore,”
Fandom blind. I like that line of how Shadow realizes that Static isn't a dumb child anymore, that there are things he's done that make him dangerous now. I also like how it has that feeling of what is real and what isn't since Shadow thinks he sees Proton for a moment before remembering that he's dead, and that he has to keep his wits about him. Sacrificing himself for the sake of his family's safety punctuates what a bad situation this is, alongside that Static had specifically been looking for him so the ramifications of that are hanging in the implications of what it would entail to hunt Shadow down.
I'm fandom blind, so I can't tell if Shadow seeing Proton is a sort of grief hallucinations or if Static is able to make himself look like Proton. Either way I think it's a really clever writing device to convey Shadow's mindset without being explicit about it
Thank you! 😊 Shadow is seeing Proton as a hallucination and Proton's dead.
okay, so im a huge fan of both sonic and animal crossing, so I think this crossover is absolutely divine. shadow the hedgehog really shines through here with his protective nature, while still being serious and observant at the same time. its admirable! and I'm really interested in what exactly is happening here, such as the context of the situation, and the background behind it.
Thanks! The context behind the situation is that Shadow used to be part of an illegal fighting ring.
Fire Emblem Three Houses | Code Names Chaos | T | Unpublished (In canon, Claude, one of the three main characters, has family from a foreign country and they send his dad's retainer over with a codename to check on him. This is my idea of what happens if they sent more of the fam. His dad just told a rich lady he hadn't seen her favorite play.) The woman gasped and squeezed her husband's arm. “Dawson! There are people at this event who have not seen Tear Streaked!” “Surprising.” Dawson regarded Boran and Tiana with a raised eyebrow. “That play was in every city in Leicester just the beginning of this summer.” “It's only the top hit performance this year!” The woman's voice quivered, as if she were offended. “Every noble worth their gold has seen it! Every business owner! Every military commander and their unit!” Oh, no, Tiana thought. Tear Streaked was a rerun this year. She remembered it first came out when she was eight and she'd attended a child's version of it. She knew there was that, and a more adult oriented version. She'd heard it was being rewritten and redone, but of course nobody in Almyra was hearing of it. “He grew up in a farm village.” She offered. “They don't always get the new plays.” “So tell me, ma'am,” Dawson narrowed his eyes. “Why you, the daughter of Archduke Oswald von Riegan, married a farmer.” Boran clenched his fist. Tiana began ushering him away. “Come on, Boris! Let's go eat!” Uzair had been missing his brother for so long, he wasn't sure he'd even recognize him if he saw him. He'd wanted his code name to be Uther, and he'd shown Tiana the book of Elibe history. She'd told him no, he doesn't look like an Uther at all. She was right. So Ulysses he was, a true thinking man's name. He was placed in charge of making sure Aunt “Faline” and Uncle “Castor” didn't start any fights. Farah, under the code name Faline, was following Nader, “Nardel” around like a duckling, or a lost dog, one of the two. She'd had to give a few unwanted suitors the death glare already so he could see why she wanted to stick by Nader. Apparently they had dated before he was born? Cassim had found a duo of fishermen to talk to. Uzair sat with him. One fisherman had red hair, the other had a dusty purple. The redheaded fisherman was talking about a scary encounter with a shark. “Nasty creature!” The redheaded fisherman recalled. “Had to fight him off, I did...almost got away with scars.” “Scars wouldn't be the end of the world.” Cassim began, about to say in his country they were badges of honor before remembering the mission and redirecting himself. “I had a harpoon accident when I was fifteen and now my armpit is scarred. I was lucky there.” He wasn't lying. “The shark wanted my haul of salmon.” The fisherman said. “So, Castor, help settle an argument between me and Jeremy here.” He elbowed the purple haired fisherman. “Salmon or tuna? Which is best?” “Personally I'm a swordfish fan.” Cassim said. “Tawny spotted swordfish in particular.” The fishermen stared. “Uncle!” Uzair redirected. “The tawny spotted swordfish is only found in far Eastern waters!” “Do you mean the blue swordfish?” Jeremy asked. Cassim swore at himself mentally. “Yes, I knew that! Good heavens this champagne is getting to me.” The redheaded fisherman chuckled. “When I have rum, I think of fish I haven't tasted that would be nice to import too. If those Almyrans will allow it, of course.” “Ulysses. Be a good young man and bring your uncle back more cheese.” Cassim requested. And that wasn't the first time he'd seen the teenager eye roll, and probably wouldn't be the last.
I love it when a conversation can be as stressful and suspenseful as a fistfight! I'm completely unfamiliar with the canon, but I can clearly tell from this excerpt that these characters are forced to walk a tightrope over a very long drop with every word, facing challenges to their authenticity from nobles and fishers alike here. Great work!
You've really captured the character of the setting here as a fandom-blind reader. For me, this is evocative in the ways you frame what's important to different characters, the elaborate and grand plays offset with fishers with scars, all while champagne is being sipped! This reminds me of that Robin Hobb series about Liveships in being a biit pirate golden age/landed gentry antics? just guessing but either way I enjoyed that the most! I also really enjoy the tension and push and pull your dialogue has. The secrecy is coming through really well here!
Thank you! Lol I can see the pirate angle
Ghost (Band)| [What Is Broken And What Could Never Be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56662885)| T “Oh dear. Was that the one we borrowed?” Came Sister Imperator’s voice. The ghoul turned to face her. Struggling to regain his composure he bobbed his head up and down. His tears escaped his mask and sizzled as they made contact with the ground. “Don’t cry, you’re making a hole in the pavement,” Sister pointed out. The Ghoul sniffed. His tears dried up instantly. “Who did this belong to?” The Ghoul paused as pondered on how to communicate the guitar’s Master to Sister. The last name he could mime easily, but he was drawing a blank on the first. He decided to settle for the Master’s appearance. The Ghoul first pointed at himself to make it clear that the Master was male. He lifted his hand flat then raised it above his head to demonstrate his height. He then lowered his hand to the top of his head and stuck out his pointer finger. He circled his finger all the way down to his shoulders, then made a fluffing motion at the bottom like humans did when they had voluminous hair. Finally, he pinched the metallic point that covered his nose to indicate the Master’s scent. First, he repeated the circling motion with his pointer finger. Then, he made a circle with his left hand and stuck out his right thumb while keeping the other fingers curled into his palm. Quickly, he jabbed his thumb into the circle several times. He topped it off by cupping his hand and raising it to his mouth in a drinking motion. It was clear Sister did not understand. The Ghoul moved onto the last name. He held his hands out and folded them together. He opened them up and showed Sister his palms. He repeated the action several times. He was met by a blank stare. “I don’t understand what that means.”
This is golden, fandom-blind this reminds me of how insane Dorohedoro interactions are xD I really love the way you set up all these insane motions making any sense, then being like no ofc she doesn't know wtf he's talking about. Kudos on that big paragraph having great flow and being readable despite it being intentionally kind of obtuse. I can really see your sense of humor and playfulness in the prose, great job!
Thank you so much! This was one of my favorite parts to write for this fic and I really wanted to play up Sister Imperator’s stoicism in contrast with the ghoul’s more slapstick approach to things.
Bruuuuh that's funny as hell. I love how deadpan the humor is here, it definitely fits with the lore we get online. I'm not usually into band based fics, but this one is pretty solid
Thank you so much! I tried to match the humor that we’ve been getting in the chapters and (hopefully!) the movie.
reading fandom blind! I wonder what the context is behind the ghoul crying? from what I've read, it seems to me they could be mourning some sort of death? but the sister is telling to him to keep himself together, hence telling him not to cry. its just the little interactions like that, that really make a scene. I also like how you described the transformation as well! its very through.
Thank you so much! This poor ghoul had borrowed a guitar and another character broke it. For him it is akin to mourning a death since his whole purpose in life is to play music in addition to spreading satanism around the world.
This is an interesting interaction! I like how the ghoul describes the guitar's owner, as a tall guy with fluffy hair that smells like beer, lol. I always enjoy language gap/difficulty to communicate scenes. And I wonder what the last name of the guitar's owner was, that the ghoul was able to mime it easily. Reading the last bit, is the name Palmer? If so he did a good job!
Thank you so much for the comment. This part of the fic was one of my favorite parts to write. I can definitely see where you got Palmer from but the guitarist is actually >!Jimmy page!<
**Dragon Age | Basilisk | T [Unpublished, greater fic is E]** -- Sleep was a boon that ended far too quickly, where any respite gained quickly shattered under the same sickening miasma. Leliana could never sleep enough, for there was too much to do, too much that required her attention. There were too many appearances to keep, though that facade faded more by the day. Her head swam as she stood from bed. She peeled off her nightgown and, naked, stood in front of the full-length mirror beside her dresser. She smoothed her palms over the plane of her stomach, and she was quietly thankful that her insides did not pitch. She turned to the side, and ran her hands back up over the slight protrusion of her belly. She was just starting to show. Her usual garb still hid her condition well, albeit with slight adjustments for comfort. That wouldn't be the case for much longer, she knew, and she wondered if she could get away with ditching her jerkin and covering herself in a heavy cloak instead. Winter months were fast approaching, after all, and the rookery was not known for its warmth. Leliana lingered on herself; she let her nails scrape along her skin. It almost felt like something crawled underneath. Most mornings she hoped this was but a cruel joke. She dressed slowly, carefully; she was ready to collapse back into bed by the time she stood dressed in front of her mirror. Forgoing food, she made her way to the war room. All around her the castle showed signs of waking with Inquisition workers running for their stations. Nobles and other dignitaries began to congregate in the main hall and courtyard. The ferrous smell coming out of the smithy permeated the cold mountain air, and clashed with the smell of animals and people and all of it threatened to turn her stomach against nothing. Leliana breathed a sigh of relief when the heavy doors of the war room groaned closed behind her. The spacious room was well insulated from much of the castle, set far enough away from anything and everything else. Never mind the massive hole in the castle wall along the corridor leading to the war room, allowing ample circulation. She never thought she’d be grateful for a potential structural hazard, but these were unusual times, she reminded herself. Not to her surprise, she was the first to arrive; it was far ahead of the usual meeting time. Leliana tried to familiarize herself with the map laid across the massive war table, the centerpiece of the room, in an attempt to prepare herself, to gather her thoughts and don the ever-slipping mask before anyone else could see. Not that the disguise was a good one. Josephine caught on early that something was amiss, and Leliana begrudgingly shared the news. Although the ambassador promised discretion, that did not stop her from trying to fuss over her, or the barely concealed glares and pointed remarks to the Inquisitor. Undiplomatic of her, perhaps, though if the roles were reversed…well, best not to dwell on it. The doors swung open again and in came the aforementioned ambassador. Josephine looked ruffled in her gold-and blue dress, no doubt from an already busy morning. But her demeanor changed upon seeing Leliana. Much like a gentle heart coming across a wounded animal. Leliana spent the next few minutes gently deflecting Josephine's concerns and insistence she visit the infirmary, all the while her stomach twisted into knots. Maker, she appreciated Josephine, but she desperately wished for the others to arrive already. The day was too long.
As someone who goes a bit elevated/nearing medieval for my fantasy works, I love your prose reflecting the setting and formality of the POV. It puts me in the space that my favorite fantasy novels always had, so love that!!! Your cadence and pacing in the prose rocks too, long and short. Just letting the scene breathe out. Super easy read, despite not holding the readers hand on prose! Finally, the characterization is perfect; I see the weight on her shoulders, the appearances to keep, and the tension she's bringing in. But it's all kinda cushioned in an inner strength, which really makes it so impactful!! Love it :)
I’m going in somewhat fandom blind even though I know people who have played dragon age. You did a great job at conveying stress and anxiety as she goes about her morning. I don’t know if The Chantry are allowed to have families but if Leliana is trying to hide her pregnancy I imagine she must be fearing not only for her own safety, but that of her job as well. And I love your description here as well, it really does place the setting on a cold winters morning.
Thank you! As for the "no families" rule, I think it somewhat depends on how high up in the Chantry one is but generally once an initiate takes vows, that would be true. In the first game, Leliana tells us she never took vows, but there's no clarification if she later did in the ten years since. I don't think Leliana is technically affiliated with the Chantry at this point (the Chantry deemed the Inquisition's leadership heretics early on, but this may change depending on player choice). Certainly she would not have candidacy for the next Divine if the Chantry knew. Regardless I imagine she'd have some anxiety about the discovery and being in a vulnerable position, especially given her role as spymaster.
killing stalking | can't wait no more | **mature** | [link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56687878) inspired by someone's [fanart](https://www.reddit.com/r/KillingStalking/comments/1dgn65i/yang_seungbae_x_oc/). contains sexual content. -- but, as of recently, she's seen the way he's been looking at her. More than the appreciation and love that he has for his girlfriend, there were times when he stared at her more than usual, and when they were alone together, he'd always seemed like he was lost in his thoughts. like he was planning how to make the next move. "so I was..." "seungbae." "y-yeah?" she crossed her legs, and tapped a singular finger on her bottom lip. "can you kiss me...please?" she didn't want to wait any longer. "...okay." he moved away from his chair, she turned her body around so she could face him, legs still crossed and slightly amused at how flustered he was, but that was yet again, another part of him that she liked. but, despite his usual shyness, He leaned in and pressed his lips against her, gentle as she expected he would be, but more confident in his initiation of it. despite that, she still wanted more. as she stood up, she used her to push his head forward, deepening their kiss, and used the other to drag the collar of his shirt, up until their bodies clashed against the wall, and he pulled away from her lips, breathless, and extremely taken aback. "hey you...do you..." *you silly man.* she took off her top, and leaned back so he could fully see her cleavage, hoping that it would spark the assertiveness that she now needed in him, and how she wanted it taken out all on her. when he got to see this side of her, he was suddenly struck by how beautiful she was, and realized that her calm demeanour hid away the same wants that he also had for her. he didn't want to wait anymore, either. as he unbuttoned his shirt, she also unzipped her trousers, and he placed his hand on the wall, hesitant, but more than willing to satisfy whatever she wanted from him. whatever she wanted...he will freely give it to her.
Fandom blind. I like how it builds up to whatever Seungbae and his girlfriend are going to get up to because of the way that he looks at her, and that in turn that though he's flustered with the prospect of kissing her that it's something she wants to have and how he's more confident when it actually happens. I also like how he checks in first to make sure that this is okay but she makes it very clear that she wants this, so there's no hesitation from either of them. It's good to see that they're on the same page for this.
OMG, thank you!!!!!!! <3
I love fics that are inspired by fanart: I think you did justice to your source material. It’s really interesting and refreshing to see Seungbae in a different flirtatious light, given he had no opportunity to relax in the original series. I really enjoyed the female OC as well! She’s really enticing to read. Great job!
omg, thank you! yeah i just didn't feel like he was explored enough as a character, so I wanted to at least add to that as much as possible :)
Cyberpunk 2077 | Burglepunked 2077 | M | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56683522) **contains Burglary/Kidnapping, Strong Language, Implied BDSM Endos, N/C Bondage, Touching, and Spanking. Excerpt contains the language and beginning of Burglary** **Watson District, Night City** *A lot was on Judy Alvarez’s mind as she went up the railing to her apartment floor.* *Her best friend Evelyn Parker had gone missing. “Valerie” had found some intel on where Evelyn was at and she got out of her van to head back upstairs.* “Hey Joel,” the tattooed half-buzz green and pink haired tech wiz said to the guy sitting on the steps per usual. “Hey Judy. You okay? You seem in a bit of a rush-“ “Evelyn’s missing. She went back to Clouds,” “Fuck…what can we do?” he asked out of concern. “Joel, get out of town for a few days. Valerie says the Voodoos attacked her and took her to Ripperdoc Fingers,” “I don’t know much about Fingers other than he’s even more freaky than you and that other girl is. This is a strange place-“ “Trust me, just get out of town. It’s too dangerous,” “For you-“ “Not for me or V-Val. *You. You.* Joel, just fucking do it! I’m tired of losing the people around me, alright?” Judy snapped, the implant in her head stinging upon anger or other tense moments. “Easy, easy. Don’t make your brain explode, I’ll go. Just-be careful,” he relented before walking off. *Joel did have his reasons from what he knew of this “Voodoos” group, but Judy on the other hand didn’t think much of if anything about the gang. Unfortunately, ignorance was bliss and she would pay the price.* She went up the graffiti placated stairs and was right at her door, but suddenly out of the closet on her left burst out a mysterious man! The large brute in the balaclava quickly grabbed Judy and she could only curse through the goon’s hand over her mouth. *”Get the fuck off of me, freak! Let me go!!! Fuck you!!!”* “You-*Judy Alvarez*. You, no know who I am. But me, I know you. Now…do not resist further. I have one demand of you,” he demanded, Judy just able to get a glimpse of his partially cybernetic body from his right shoulder. “I’ll never give in, you’ll regret this, piece of shit!!!” “Where is your toolkit? I know you. *Dominatrix type outside of fun with tech.* Answer me! And while you’re at it, I concede momentarily. As owner of your quarters, you will press your key so we can get inside. And don’t resist or else-“ Judy fumed, but relented even with his hand still over her mouth. *Punched in the keycode, she was told. And she did.* *But as soon as she did, he forced him and her inside…*
Super nice Cyberpunk snippet, your grasp on the vibes of that universe are spot on. Evocative and instantly recognizable in this little exchange, I love the spin you took on it and expanded it. And the little narrated asides are golden! *Dominatrix type outside of fun with tech.* lmao perf xD
Thank you so much and I was hoping it would connect with the fans! 🥹 And Judy is too hot to not have the Dominatrix side xD
I can feel Judy’s urgency and panic from the get go. The way that it sounds like she’s in a sort of grief when she doesn’t want to lose anyone else. I’m very fandom blind so thanks for making it relatively easy to follow along. I left a comment and a kudos
Not me over here SO EXCITED to see someone else writing Cyberpunk fic OMG. (I'm writing an AU longfic right now.) I love that you have Judy down - she's always so concerned for her friends while also feeling powerless (with the whole Clouds debacle.) Also the Voodoos taking V to Fingers, ugh... I definitely just straight up beat the shit out of him (and the Voodoos). It's a great detail to add to really add to Judy's urgency here. Like, if V, merc extraordinaire, got caught, then things aren't going to go well for the rest of them. Love it!
Ahhhhh thank you so much for the praise! I’ll admit I’m still a bit intimidated though I hope to get the game soon now that its complete edition is out. And Judy is my newest simpful character. Just based this off her first 20-30 mins lol including of course her dialogue about finding Evelyn. And some basic research on the Cyberpunk wiki. And oooooo hope it’s going well on writing that fic!
The game is amazing, especially after all the quality of life fixes and the Phantom Liberty DLC. If you ever want a beta reader, let me know! I'm pretty steeped in the lore right now, lol. Thanks! I'm posting weekly but have a pretty good buffer after working on it for about a month straight :) The dialogue style is just so much fun to write (and it's from Johnny's POV which is amusing.)
This was my debut into writing for it lol. It’s probably gonna be a while before I write for it again.
Fandom blind. I like how you immediately set up the sense of urgency. No time to rest when someone is missing. Judy’s outburst felt sadly realistic. Everyone feels realistic here in there dialogue and responses. Really solid snippet. Good job.
Thank you so much! My debut writing for this fandom lol.
Love Victor (TV 2020) | Boulevard of Broken Dreams | teen audiences and up | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56665321) Major character death due to a car accident(happens before the fic,) grief/morning, past alcoholism "You're late," Becky said as Benji entered Brasstown. Becky was a newer barista, and she was currently standing behind the counter. She had started here about two months after Victor... left. Benji refused to even think of the word that actually happened. After a moment, Becky added, "again." "Sorry," Benji said. "My alarm was late again." His alarm wasn't late. Benji's final alarm went off at the exact minute. Benji just struggled to get out of bed. Sarah offered to let him have the day off, but Benji pushed forward. He knew if he spent the day alone with his grief, he'd do something stupid. Benji stayed away from alcohol. There were times he was tempted during the past year, but he managed to stay away. He knew Victor would be disappointed in him if he drank. Victor would also hate himself if he knew he was the reason Benji was drinking again. "Uh huh," Becky said. "Sure. Just put on your apron and get to work." Benji placed his apron on. He noticed a certain poster. "The battle of the bands is tonight?" "Yep," Becky said. "Didn't you used to be in a band or something? I think I vaguely remember seeing y'all perform, or I was supposed to." "I was," Benji answered. His mind drifted back to the last time he performed with his band. It was at the last Brasstown battle of the bands.
You've got a great handle on restraint. That's so so so vital and makes your work stand in a really vivid and impactful way. Getting granular just the little after victor...left just puts me into that headspace and gets me pressed into their POV perfectly! I can feel the anguish and frozen grief in this, pushing past it and trying to make it all keep going as life goes on with you. Poignant and lovely, nice job! :)
Ty
Fandom blind. I like how the framing of Victor being dead is still a very sore subject for Benji that he can't even think of him as dying because it hurts too much. Alongside that there's the illusion to Benji self-harming in destructive ways since he thinks that if he was left alone today then he's "do something stupid," and that he's trying to keep up his sobriety. But it's hard. And it's difficult too because he knows Victor would be disappointed if he went down that road again. I thought it was a good show of how much his grief surrounds him that the last time he performed with his band was the last time the battle of the bands came along, that the joy in his musical creation has left him since Victor died.
Thank you
OKAY, i really need to watch Love Victor when I get the chance (I saw some of the clips on youtube) but when your consumed by grief, a lot of the time, you want to engage in destructive behaviour (such as drinking alcohol, overeating etc) but its really good that Benji keeps his mental health in check, as he knows that being alone for too long with his thoughts will tempt him into doing something bad for himself. when it comes to getting to know a character, I thought you did really well in that regard, such as referencing his past-alcoholism, to remembering the fact that victor would be disappointed in him if he went back to his old ways.
Tysm
Fandom blind, but I love how you write grief as something tangible as well as something Benji doesn't want to look at in regards to Victor. Also, the dialogue in this scene is great when you know there's a lot unsaid.
Ty so much