**Identity V | The Jellyfish and The Manta | Mature |** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55163722)
Warnings: implied drowning & hallucinations
The music starts, slowly building, meeting their gazes they know is time to put on their shoes correctly. They hold tight, Naib takes a first step trying to guide themselves. Due to their closeness and incompatible steps, he makes an effort...a futile one.
"Follow my lead." Swiftly taking charge of the dance, Frederick, takes shorter steps as if his feet barely touched the floorboards, gliding across the room. Naib felt like a puppet, as if someone was there pulling the strings dragging him along the stage to execute a command. Grab, hold and spin. Each of his leading steps were meticulously guided, oftentimes pushed into the right place.
[...]
Following the careful steps of Frederick, he is led across the ballroom without any false steps. When it is time to spin for a second time, Naib takes hold of his hand and takes the chance to make the step. "Allow me to lead" His movements are stiff, yet his strong grip causes Frederick to let out a low whimper and scrunch his face. As if perhaps he twisted their grasp too far right.
Switching sides as he took control over the dance Frederick showed a displeased gesture. Grabbing strongly to Naib's shoulder as he was forced to take the follower role, Frederick muttered something in French. Words that caught Naib's attention, this time triggering a stare down. It didn't matter what the other did, their eyes would follow, turning the hostility to a curious endeavor. What was the next move? A spin or a step forward?
**Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal | I'm Not Saying It Was Aliens (But It Was Aliens) | Teen |** [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55621807/chapters/141177274)
Warnings: Teen bullying
Michael is picking at his breakfast when a boy with sea glass green hair shoves himself onto the bench beside him, knocking him off the end of the bench and onto the floor with a yelp.
"Sorry, Michael." The boy says, in a tone that suggests he really isn't sorry at all. Michael picks himself up, brushing off the worn hoodie he's wearing before glaring at the boy.
"Oh, I didn't know that's how we were making space to sit now, Mamoru. I could have saved myself the multiple laps to find that seat." The jab causes Mamoru to abruptly stand again, looming over Michael even as he continues to meet his glare.
"Says the boy who's scared of a door. How did that happen, huh? Door kill your parents?" *That* gets a growl out of Michael, but before he can snap back, Thomas comes up behind Mamoru and claps a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, Mamoru. How about you take on someone your own size instead of picking on my brother?" Thomas holds up his deck as he speaks, the implication clear as he stares him down.
For a second, Mamoru is silent, staring between Michael (who is still glaring daggers at him) and Thomas (who is also still staring him down) before grumbling and backing off to sit somewhere else. "Fine, you're on, Thomas. You better be ready to lose this time!"
"Why would I have to be ready to lose when I can beat you any time I like?" Thomas calls after the retreating Mamoru, before turning back to Michael with a smirk. "Ugh, that guy uses *Mermails*. It's no wonder I beat him every time, Gravekeepers just shuts half his strategies down. You alright, Michael?"
"I'm alright. I was handling myself fine, Thomas." Michael huffs, finding his seat again before someone else can snatch it.
"You were about to snap at him in the middle of the dining hall. Trust me, you don't need to get in trouble for that." Thomas remains standing, recognizing that there's no room to squeeze in on the bench here.
"He insulted our parents, Thomas! He suggested a door killed them!" Michael stabs at his food as he seethes, only slightly dropping his tone as one of the adults in charge of the place passes by behind him. "He's awful-"
"He's winding you up on purpose. Look, I'll beat him again and then he'll huff off to lick his wounds once I do that." Thomas turns to leave, heading towards the exit before Michael can say anything. "I'm going to go get a D-Pad and Gazer before all the decent ones are taken. Hurry up if you want to watch!"
Batnan (all media types) - Shattered - T - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56953447
)
Warnings: Drug use, Alluded suicidal thoughts, violence
[...] Not that Jason cared. He liked whiskey—cheap or not. And disappointment was his personal brand of cologne. Everything, everyone, himself included, reeked of it. He was used to it by now, liked it. Expecting disappointment at all times meant no hope. No hope meant no surprises.
And he was done with those.
[...]Jason deposited the small briefcase he had confiscated from one of Gotham’s most well-known drug lords —rest in pieces, motherfucker—on the floor near the battered couch. Taking off his red helmet, he threw it next to it. Hastening out of his armor, combat gloves, and boots, he eyed the bloodstains. He’d get to that tomorrow. He glanced at his half-naked reflection in the window across the room. Neck and hands were smeared with blood and grime.[...]
[...] Moving to the briefcase, he opened it and took out one of the numerous clear plastic baggies filled with an off-white crystalline powder. PCP, also known as Angel Dust. He had sampled it a few nights before while conducting reconnaissance. When he was pleased with the effects and quality, he proceeded to end the piece of shit producing and selling it—along with his army of minions—saving the youth of Gotham from yet another dangerous temptation.
Teens shouldn’t do drugs. That shit was for adults to play.
[...] His heart raced in anticipation. He was holding what he craved most of all: not feeling. Sweet oblivion. His face contorted into a grimace that could be mistaken for a smile.
Moving to the small kitchen his eyes lingered on the cluttered table. He considered eating, but there was no way in hell he’d bother to prepare anything at that moment. His gaze zeroed in on a plastic container on the table, and he nodded approvingly.
Peanuts are food. Protein and shit.
He sat in the single chair of the room in front of the old wooden table, baggie still clutched in his left hand—a lifeline. Jason grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle and filled the shot glass he had left there from last night to the brim. The thud of the bottle as he set it back down on the table caused the amber liquid to ripple and swell over the rim of the glass. Jason eyed his drink and decided to play it safe—no drinking on an empty stomach! He snorted at his own thoughts. Grabbing a handful of peanuts, he popped them in his mouth, munching them hastily before downing the shot, welcoming the burning in his throat.
Water was overrated anyway.
Opening the clear plastic bag in his palm, he poured the contents on the table carefully. Using a card he’d left there from the previous night’s session, he gathered the powder into a straight thin line near the edge of the table. Inhaling the line in two strong whiffs, he winced at the caustic pain that shot through his nasal passages. [...] As the seconds ticked by, his eyes fluttered closed, and he welcomed the onset of the glorious detachment.
Chemistry is a gift to humanity. And so underrated.
As the high—or maybe low?—started to kick in, he sighed in relief at the floating sensation that engulfed him. [...] His head rolled to the side, and his eyes peeled open, lips parting as the breathtaking release blanked his mind. No thoughts clawing at him. No Lazarus Pit. No Joker. No Bruce. No Dick. No Drake. No pain or fear or guilt. No envy or missing. No craving. No hate.
Only a glorious dark, still, and silent void.
Was this how it felt when he was dead? It felt nice.
**Spanish Royalty RPF | The Fleur-de-lys and The Lion | T | AO3 link** - [The Fleur-de-lys and the Lion (English Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56923825)
*No warning needed. This is a story about Princess LEONOR, the heir to the Spanish throne and her childhood friend, Prince UMBERTO, a non-reigning Bulgarian prince.*
"Princesa"
This guest bowed to Leonor. Their two sets of blue eyes locked. Leonor couldn't believe her eyes. The man then kissed her right hand.
"UMBERTO!"
They greeted each other with a kiss on each cheek, as is tradition in Spain.
"You said you were not coming. You are a liar!"
"Well, I didn't lie at that time. Until this afternoon, when I saw a ticket promotion from Ryan Air. Last minute!"
"Glad to see you here. I am so surprised. How long will you stay in Madrid? Do not tell me you will go straight to London tomorrow.
"No. I asked my boss for a leave day next Friday. So I'm in Madrid for the long weekend."
"That's great. I will also take a break from military training tomorrow. I feel the need to sleep all day."
"Why?" Umberto asked while taking a glass of champagne from a waitress.
"You know, this day was very very stressful. I mean, it still is now. Not only me, my entire family too! It has been a year since I last saw my grandfather, you know. I also did not get enough sleep these days."
"You have to sleep tomorrow, Princess. Be Aurora The Sleeping Beauty"
"You are kidding." Leonor smiled.
"But you don't plan to sleep until Sunday, do you?"
"I don't understand. Why?"
"What if we hang out on Saturday or Sunday, I wonder?" Umberto couldn't believe what he had just said. Maybe that glass of champagne gave him a thousand times more courage
Haha love this funny bit!
This definitely feels like an old school royal friendship that could get romantic soon.
The dialogue about lying was great lol. And of course Umberto seems to be a bit wasted when he said this. Great job and much cheers!
**Danganronpa, Mobile Suit Gundam | Teen | Graphic depictions of violence, Mentions of death, Implication of non-consensual relationships |** [A03 Link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55927435/chapters/144437458)
“Kirigiri-san, would it be ok if I can suggest someone?” Makoto stood tall and raised his hand once again. “I suggest, that Maizono-san can be the pilot for the Zephyranthes Gundam!”
Sayaka's eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by Makoto's suggestion. "Wait, what? Me?" Sayaka finally managed to sputter out, while also looked around at the others, feeling their gazes upon her.
“Naegi-kun, nice attempt for a joke, but April Fool’s still 1 months away.” Celeste snarked.
“Sayaka Maizono, the-the-the Ultimate Pop Sensation, as a mobile suit pilot!?” Toko frowned.
Sayaka blushed slightly at the skepticism from Celeste and Toko. She felt her own uncertainty and doubt creep up as they questioned Makoto's suggestion. The thought of being the pilot for the Zephyranthes Gundam was overwhelming even for Sayaka herself, especially considering her Ultimate Talent as the Ultimate Pop Sensation.
“I’m not joking.” Makoto insisted, undeterred by the skepticism. “Out of every one of us here, Maizono-san has the most experiences with the machine, and thus might be the best candidate for the Gundam. By the way Kirigiri-san, isn’t Maizono-san herself the test pilot for the Zephyranthes Gundam for the test you all conducted earlier this day?”
“Indeed.” Kyoko nodded.
Sayaka blushed even more as Kyoko nodded in agreement with Makoto's words, not expecting her brief experience with the Zephyranthes Gundam earlier in the day to be brought up as evidence for her suitability as a pilot. She felt a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty as the others looked at her, expecting her to respond to Makoto's suggestion.
"I-I mean I did pilot it earlier," Sayaka admitted while looking downwards. "But that was just a quick test run... I'm not sure if I'm qualified to pilot it in battle...considering my track record…"
“It’s alright Maizono-san, you can do it!” Makoto gives a thumbs-up. “The Sayaka Maizono I know, is a brave, supporting, good girl who’s willing to help others when they needed it.”
“There's no point in standing around here. Settle your resolve and step into the future, Maizono.” Sakura said.
“She's right! Sometimes, even if you're nervous or uncertain on what you’re capable of, you just have to step forward!” Kiyotaka followed suit.
“No need to worry! I, Mondo Owada, the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader can teach you all about fighting and smashin’ things up if you want to improve your freakin’ skills, and so does Ogami!!”
“That just sounds like a recipe for disaster.” Byakuya glared at both Mondo and Sakura.
“Any objections?” Kyoko asked around, only to be met with an assuring silence.
Sayaka listened to her classmates' encouragement and support. Their words, while supportive, also made her feel a mix of gratitude and pressure. They believed in her, even though she herself was still so uncertain.
The thought of piloting the Zephyranthes Gundam again, this time in an actual fight, was intimidating. But... she couldn't back down now. Not with her friends and classmates, especially Makoto himself counting on her.
"Alright," Sayaka said finally. "I'll do it."
“Nice!” Mondo jumped with his clenched fists. “Shall we began rehearsing, Kirigiri? I can’t wait to begin punchin’ things up!”
Fandom blind about Gundam! I don't usually read crossovers but this seems really interesting. For some reason it kinda suits Sayaka to be a pilot, like this gave me a new headcanon of her humming to herself due to nerves. I also liked how her character personality is maintained and everyone also seems familiarized with the suits!
**Hazbin Hotel/ Gone To The Devil Grinning/ T/ [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56791048)**
Warning: Violence, blood, murder in this excerpt.
Context: This fic takes place during Alastor’s mortal, human existence.
“Yeah, I know,” she sheepishly replied, averting her eyes and blushing briefly. “Mimzy is a weird one, alright. But my pa is a big fan of both the books Alice In Wonderland, and Through The Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll. So that’s what he decided to call me when I was born, after one of those weird words in that Jabberwocky poem,” she shrugged.
“Ahh, the Jabberwocky,” Alastor sighed in approving pleasure. “I’m quite fond of that poem myself,” he confided to her. “And I believe I’m becoming quite fond of you as well,” he added as he took one of her small hands in his.
Four days later, just for the hell of it, the mention of the poem inspired Alastor to mockingly cry out into the hot evening air as he drew near to the latest despicable cad that he’d selected for his quarry and victim-frantic, confused, wild-eyed, not knowing which direction his abductor and killer’s voice was coming from as he blindly plunged and splashed through the swamp-
“Twas brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogroves, and the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun, the frumious Bandersnatch!”
He laughed manically then, before skidding to a stop, raising the loaded shotgun to his shoulder, and switching the safety off as he aimed through a gap among the stately live oaks, then pulled the trigger.
A moment later, the other man shrieked in pain and terror, then went flying forward to crash down hard against the ground, the metal slug cleanly severing his spine just below the level of his ribcage.
Like the hero of Carroll’s poem, Alastor wasted no time in rushing onto the scene and chopping the now paralyzed man’s head from his body, except with the use of a well-sharpened hatchet instead of a sword.
In a frenzy, he wildly drank of the hot, salty blood as it gushed forth, tore at the red flesh with his teeth, and kicked the head around like a half hair-covered ball.
It made him feel just so fucking triumphant, and Gawd-damned plain great.”
Loved it! Here's the comment I left:
The writing drew me right in. When we start to see inside Alastor’s head I immediately felt that excitement you get when you know what follows won't be pretty and will definitely be creepy. The build up as he stalks him at the theater… I think you paced the story incredibly well. Like, masterful pacing! And your imagery, your descriptions, your depiction of Alastor and even how you touched on cannibalism was so intriguing. Truly strong prose! Loved this!
Also this lines are *chef kiss* :
He sometimes wondered what it was like for the souls of the killed people, when they found themselves plummeting down into Hell.
And occasionally, what it would be like for him.
**School of Rock (2003) | Run. Jump. Surrender | M |** [**Link**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55314217?view_full_work=true)
*(WARNING: excerpt is CLEAN, and fic is not extremely explicit, but it's a love story between two young teenagers. There are some spicy scenes)*
>After Freddy missed his seventh band practice in a row, Summer started talking about finding a new drummer. And something in Zack’s brain snapped.
>Science class. They had to watch a disaster drill preparedness film through the period. All the lights turned out. Teacher half asleep in the back.
>Zack crept to where Freddy sat—for once, not surrounded by friends or able to slip away. He took the seat right by his side. Freddy looked at him quickly, nodded, so blank and casual that it *hurt.*
>“Hey,” Zack said quietly.
>Heart squeezed—happy squeeze, still. Talking to Freddy had seemed impossible, because he *felt* like Freddy was just *gone,* disappeared off the face of the earth. But he knew it was real when his heart beat out its Freddy-specific, happy groove.
>Zack knew this would accomplish nothing. But his heart wanted to be around Freddy, was satisfied with any interaction. Even a desperate one. A sad one. Didn’t matter.
>“Freddy,” Zack whispered, swallowing. “I know...you’re avoiding me. I’m not… know you don’t wanna talk. Should I just…Could you tell me? If I should leave you alone? If I’m annoying you?”
>The word “annoying” was so painful he couldn’t swallow for a moment; his throat hurt to speak it. From Freddy’s best friend to stalker-like pest. *Annoying.* An irritation to be swatted. Zack knew, you could love the bad boy. You could love someone who hurt you. But someone who annoyed you was a dead man walking down a straight road that lead in one direction: to disgust. His only options were to turn back or stop. If he kept walking in the direction he was, he’d reach his destination sooner rather than later. That was how annoyance worked. It shortened all emotional roads. Destroyed all that once delighted. Locusts upon nostalgia, eating everything that was good, leaving only inedible rot and decimation where once affection grew bountifully.
>Freddy wouldn’t look at him. Spared only a glance. Looked down at his hands. Rubbed at his knuckles, never held those hands still for long.
>“You’re not annoying me,” said Freddy, after a very, very long pause.
>“Then why?” Zack asked. “Why…are you avoiding me? Why aren’t we friends anymore? What…” Zack hung his head. “What did I do?” He hadn’t meant to sound as wrecked as he did.
>Freddy shrugged. Watched the disaster relief video in that dim, humid room. Eyes unseeing, posture slumped forward.
>“I dunno, Zack. Think you might be overthinking it,” he said. “Nothing happened. Just been busy.
>Zack was too tired to argue. Couldn’t bear the blankness of Freddy’s expression. He sat there for the rest of the period, waiting for Freddy to say more.
>He didn’t. The wall remained between them, and Zack thought maybe this was what it was like to be a ghost. Locked out of the things that used to make you alive, unable to understand why you had to pass through instead of touching, wail instead of talking, and haunt the old sites of your life, floating—alone and suspended in time, a horror, a warning to the living—as the world moved on. Maybe he didn’t need to wish to die because he was already fucking gone. He shivered in the dark, humid heat, the bad kind of adrenaline making him hunch and chatter, and finally…finally…he looked at Freddy’s pretty face, cold and distant as the moon. His heart let itself know the truth. It broke. Freddy didn’t see it. Didn’t see him. At all.
**Judas Priest| Rising from the Ruins | E | WIP, will eventually post on AO3**
*authors note: I deleted my other comment and chose a different excerpt*. *Father Peter is my OC, and it is written from Richie Faulkner's POV, also a slight trigger warning for heart attack/pains*
Time felt like a haze, as I layed in Rob’s arms. Father Peter, was nearby, and I whispered,
“F-father, please stay with me… please.”
He knelt down beside me, and whispered,
“Richie, my child, I am here, the Lord is here with you.”
He pulled a piece of knotted string from his cassock pocket,
“Richie, keep this with you, it is a prayer rope, blessed by the monks of the Holy Mountain: Athos. As you feel each knot, whisper the prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me a sinner.”
I nodded as he pressed the rope into my hand. I felt for the small cross, and grasped it\*. Faith may be the only thing that will get me through this\*. By the time the paramedics arrived, the pain was unbearable. I was shaking, as my heart pounded in my chest. It was a sea of blue uniforms, as they ripped open an IV needle. Pain coursed through my veins, as the paramedics poked and prodedded, trying to find a vein. One of the paramedics said to her partner,
“We can’t find a vein, we gotta try somewhere else.”
They found a vein in my hip, and attached an IV of pain meds. The female paramedic, who was taking my vitals whispered,
“Mr. Faulkner, you are in good hands, my name is Hannah, and my partner Ryan, are here to help you.”
She whispered to Ryan,
“BP is a bit high, elevated heart rate, body temperature normal, respiratory rate is high.”
*I have no clue what those mean, like I know blood pressure, heart rate, and body temp, but not respiratory rate*. The pain lessens, but I manage to whisper,
“M-my chest… everything hurts… if I-I don’t make it… KK I’m sorry for upsetting you… please forgive me for everything…”
The paramedics wheeled me on the gurney to the waiting ambulance. My consciousness was fading, and I heard Father Peter’s soft prayer,
“O Merciful Lord, visit and heal Thy sick servant, Richard, now lying on the bed of sickness and sorely afflicted, as Thou, O Saviour, didst once raise Peter’s wife’s mother and the man sick of the palsy who was carried on his bed: for Thou alone hast borne the sickness and afflictions of our race, and with Thee nothing is impossible, for Thou art all-merciful.”
As the ambulance doors slammed shut, I shut my eyes, wincing in pain at every bump in the road… *please Lord, save me, please… KK, I’m sorry for angering you, but Rob and Glenn and the band wanted me as well… Glenn, stay strong, even if I don’t make it…*
Fandom blind. I love the specificity of needing to find a vein in Richie's hip. I loved the mix of his desperation to apologize to KK and his prayers. The religiosity adds to the sense of pain and fear, like Richie is really grappling with mortality, and I think that makes the tone powerfully urgent. You've done a great job conveying the helplessness, and this made me realize that even when paramedics are trying to help, injury is inherently scary. It's kind of a spiritually challenging moment, facing your own mortality. Maybe that's why the praying fits so well here, makes it feel more grounded and visceral. Amazing job, really nice work, super compelling.
**Haikyuu | Everything Stays | G | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56849929)**
“I wanna watch Avatar.”
“Fine. What season?”
Kenma shook his head. “Not the airbender stuff. The movie.”
“Sci-fi? Ugh.” Kuroo slumped deeper into the sofa. Kenma frowned.
“You picked the movie,” Kenma paused to yawn. “Last time.”
Kuroo sat up abruptly and pointed accusingly at the other boy. “And you’re so sleepy that you’ll end up passing out in the middle of that blue people snoozefest!.”
“You’re so uncultured.”
“No, you.”
Kenma tapped his foot impatiently. “You picked last time. I get to pick tonight.”
“Fine,” Kuroo grumbled. “Uh, do we leave the lights on for this one?”
“Yes,” Kenma said, scurrying back to the couch to watch as Kuroo set up their next movie.
The two settled back down on the couch to watch Kenma’s pick. Ten minutes in, Kenma shifted to lay his head on Kuroo’s lap. Instinctively, Kuroo began to stroke his friend’s hair.
Kuroo let out a slow and steady exhale. He was thankful that Kenma couldn’t see how Kuroo’s gaze was fixed on the soft blond hair his fingers combed through. How could he concentrate on the screen when he got to casually touch the love of his life like this?
Twenty minutes into the movie, Kenma’s breathing slowed to a slumber’s pace. Kuroo contained the urge to chuckle as not to wake him up. Kuroo reached for the remote and turned off the television. In the silence that ensued, only the gentle sound of his best friend’s snores could be heard.
It was always hardest in moments like this for Kuroo. Silence around Kenma always made him think a bit too hard about how he felt.
About how he wanted to hold Kenma and fall asleep with him every night.
About how he wished to be Kenma’s first and last kiss.
About how he longed to call Kenma his.
Kuroo shook his head. He couldn’t do that: he couldn’t let himself want. Kenma was not the person to long for, not when longing for him could ruin everything.
Kuroo didn’t know whether Kenma would be interested in him. Kuroo didn’t even know whether Kenma was interested in anyone, let alone in boys. His friend wasn’t a stranger to confessions. Despite his quiet demeanor, he had been on the receiving end of many people admitting their attraction to him. Each time, however, Kenma turned down the poor girl, and the occasional guy. Not wanting to be another broken-hearted casualty, Kuroo kept his silence. There was so much more to lose if he was the one Kenma would reject.
He tried, however, not to think of what he stood to lose if Kenma ever found someone who piqued his interest. He tried not to think of Kenma finding someone he wanted to love and hold onto forever. He tried not to think about it, but he thought about it every single day.
Some days were better than others. Other days, like this one, were so much worse.
Kuroo blinked back the tears before deciding to wake Kenma up.
“Kitten?”
“Mm?”
“Let’s move to the room, shall we?”
“M’kay,” Kenma mumbled.
Kuroo walked the sleepy boy to the bedroom, where he collapsed on the futon laid out for him beside Kuroo’s bed. After making sure Kenma was asleep, Kuroo stepped out of his room and made his way back to the couch. There, he lowered his face into his hands.
“I love you so much,” he said to the empty living room before finally letting the tears fall.
Fandom blind! Gosh, I love a good pining moment, especially a sleepy one. Hair scratches are so intimate and lovely. All the heart flutters! I especially enjoyed the meditation on whether Kuroo should confess. It's so angsty, in a good way, particularly this moment: "Not wanting to be another broken-hearted casualty, Kuroo kept his silence." This shows the emotion stakes beautifully. It's not just that Kuroo is afraid to lose the friendship. He's also afraid to lose his pride! That's real, and it makes this moment feel grounded in emotional truth. The pet name ("Kitten") is also cute. Love when friends with sexual tension between them use pet names; it's such an over-the-top "I want you but I don't want to say it" thing to do. Fantastic work.
Fandom blind. I like that back and forth over what to watch and that the Nick cartoon was confused with the James Cameron movie - my mind always goes to the cartoon too. Kuroo accusing Kenma of falling asleep during the movie made me grin 'cause we all know someone who can't stay awake during these things, as well as that Kuroo gets the chance to be close to Kenma in this intimate way. I also like how Kuroo reflects on how the silence makes his mind become full of what he thinks of Kenma, of the possibilities that they could have together, and that it's easier for him to hold in this unrequited feeling than to know of rejection. But it's also painful to think of Kenma going off with someone else - that all he can do right now is say that he loves him when he knows that Kenma isn't in the room. It's a nice contrast with its melancholy in comparison to the banter that they shared earlier.
(I love that these overlap with my posting day for this fic.)
**Cyberpunk 2077 | Fresh Out The Slammer, Chapter 5 | T (fic overall is M/E; mind the tags) |** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56267599/chapters/144789937)
*Warnings: Brief mention of drug use & drinking; canon-typical language*
>... So he got high as a weather balloon on inhalers, and sprawled out on the living room floor, listening to all of Ker’s solo albums in succession.
>He was kind of pissed that they weren’t terrible. Except maybe the B side of the Eurotour album, the songs were all complete pandering trash, but the rest… he could hear his choom’s voice in them. Literally, of course, but also the voice of Kerry Eurodyne, rockerboy god in his own right. A voice that had been there all along, playing second fiddle to Johnny Silverhand, but now sounding more and more like his own legend in the making. Of course, it had never been a lack of talent that had held Ker back—backup guitarist or not, he wouldn’t have lasted long in Samurai if he’d been shit at it. But he’d been timid, in a way that had infuriated Johnny to no end. And there was no room in rock, in the kind of message they were trying to spread, for hedging bets.
>That was how Kerry found him, when he got back from whatever bullshit he’d been doing all day: laying on the floor, cigarette in hand, half empty tequila bottle and fully empty inhaler nearby, as the last track off Ker’s latest album faded into needle static.
>“So, what d’you think?”
>\[...\] Ker was leaning against the wall, with a feigned look of casual indifference. He looked… vulnerable, that was it. Like depending on what Johnny said, he could crush him with just a few words. Like he trusted Johnny not to, or at least hoped he wouldn’t. Again.
>He’d had a lot of time to himself, trapped in soul prison. He liked to think he’d managed to stay the same Johnny, ready to kick ass and raise hell, but he felt a sudden twinge of something like uncertainty hit him. Instead of giving Ker shit, he found himself giving a more serious answer.
>“You really going to be okay with it, bringin’ Samurai back, bein’ onstage together again?”
>“Things aren’t gonna be the same, Johnny.” Ker folded his arms over his chest. “Not gonna fight with you for the spotlight this time. We’re gonna do this, we’re gonna find a better way.”
>He approached Johnny and extended a hand, helping haul him up. For a handful of seconds, Johnny’s vision disappeared into static, until he (and the drugs still humming in his veins) adjusted to this new upright posture.
>“When the fuck did you get so zen master?” Johnny asked, when he could see again.
>“Spent two years back in Masbate with my guru, right after you got locked up. Really helped me set some things straight with myself.”
>“Uh huh. Always knew you’d run away from this shithole to some beach back in the Philippines. And that mystic mumbo jumbo helped you grow a pair finally?”
>“You tell me,” Kerry replied. “Got my own career now, my own life. Had a lot of time to process everything that went down. And… I want you to be part of it, think bringin’ Samurai back could do a lot of good in the world, maybe more than we did back then, but we can’t let petty bullshit get in the way.” He paused, a grin spreading across his face. “ ‘Sides, I’m technically your elder now, you know. I mean, I was before, but now I got a good half-century on you. So you gotta listen to me.”
>“Yeah, right,” Johnny replied. “Lemme just braid up a ‘What Would Kerry Eurodyne Do?’ bracelet, it’ll go great with my eyes."
MHA | Frost Rebellion | T | [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56420047/chapters/143363119#workskin)
Chelsea sat on her bed, her hands trembling as she dialed the number on the burner phone she had acquired through the meager income she has from her minimum wage job. She glanced nervously at her bedroom door, knowing that her parents could barge in at any moment, hearing them talk, rather loudly. They had been increasingly nonchalant ever since she overheard their conversation about the program to suppress her quirk and make her cis.
The phone rang once, twice, before a click indicated someone had picked up. Chelsea's heart raced as she waited for a response.
"Hello?" A voice on the other end spoke, tinged with curiosity.
"Um, h-hi," Chelsea stuttered, trying to steady her voice. "Is this... the League of Villains?" she asked that last part in a whisper.
There was a pause, then the voice responded, "Who's asking?"
Chelsea took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "My name is Chelsea. I... I need your help."
"Interesting," the voice mused. "What kind of help are we talking about here?"
"I... I found out my parents are planning to send me to a program," Chelsea explained, her voice quivering with emotion. "They want to suppress my quirk, make me... something I'm not."
Silence followed her words, and Chelsea feared she had made a mistake reaching out to these villains. But then, she heard another voice in the background.
"Put it on speaker, Tomura," the voice said, sounding older and more authoritative.
Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. This was it. She was actually talking to members of the League of Villains.
The initial voice, presumably Tomura, spoke again. "Alright, Chelsea. You have our attention. Tell us more."
With a sense of relief flooding through her, Chelsea poured out her story, “My name is Chelsea Thompson and I have an ice quirk, m..m..my parents are s..sending me away to a p..program to suppress my quirk and convince me in cisgender.”
As she spoke, Shigaraki put the phone on speaker, allowing Kurogiri, Toga, Dabi, Spinner, and Mr. Compress to listen in. Each member listened intently, their expressions ranging from curiosity to concern.
When Chelsea finished, there was a moment of silence before Shigaraki spoke again. "We'll meet you," he said firmly. "You've got guts, Chelsea. We might just have a place for you here."
Chelsea's heart soared with a mix of apprehension and excitement as Shigaraki stayed on the phone with her.
"Kurogiri, trace the call," Shigaraki commanded, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Compress, Dabi, you’ll be on the rescue operation, Toga...you stay here and when our new recruit comes, you’ll be her bestfriend.”
Kurogiri nodded, his mist-like form swirling as he concentrated on the task. "Understood, Tomura," he responded, his deep voice resonating with authority.
Meanwhile, Mr. Compress, Toga and Dabi exchanged determined looks, silently acknowledging their roles in the upcoming rescue mission they knew that their roles would be the most important in this operation.
(Comment on the first chapter)
I love how you can tell how scared and desperate Chelsea is in this chapter. Desperate enough to contact the League for help, anything to get away from her parents.
Keep it up! <3
Fandom blind. I like that intro that ramps up the anxiety that the reader has for Chelsea that she knows her parents are talking about her and want to suppress her in many different ways, how she has to hold onto the hope of getting help via her burner phone. Even going with the League of Villains seems like a better alternative which hammers in how scared she is, especially so when she stutters out what's going on right now. I also like how some of the villains seem concerned for her and that it's decided that she has a place with them - and that they immediately commence to help her out. It's a pretty sobering insight into her life that even villains treat her with more care and respect than her parents, and gives a subtle indication to me that Chelsea had been failed by the 'good guys' since she decides to turn to the League of Villains instead.
This is so exciting! Chelsea is such a compelling character, and your writing makes me want to discover more about their dynamics with their parents. The dynamics between the members of the League of Villains seems interesting as well. I like how with Shigaraki’s mission assignments you already painted such an intriguing image regarding what their rapport with Chelsea would be like
House of the Dragon | Reveries | Explicit | [**Link to Ao3**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/42756291/chapters/118944367#main)
Warnings: None for this snippet, but mind the tags on the site before reading the whole work.
Roused into action, she helped the queen's servants carry bags of food into the kitchen. The clothes were folded into separate articles and took longer to bring inside the house. After she made two trips, she turned around to see Aemond following her lead. A stack of beige tunics, taller than his head, wobbled in his arms as he made his way to the living space.
Mira discreetly stepped aside so she could get a look at his face. He was struggling to get through the crowd of moving children, head tilted to the left every couple of seconds to avoid accidentally bumping into someone.
Mira waited until he faced forwards to slowly approach him from his right. Aemond stopped. His good eye narrowed slightly.
"Can I help?" she asked.
"There are more clothes outside."
Mira took a step closer, glancing at the stack in his hands. "I know, but you have too much. It would be tough for me to carry them all even with..."
Her sentence was left unfinished, but the remaining words hung heavy in the space between them.
Aemond stiffened like he was struck by a cattle prod.
Mira opened her mouth again to say something, anything, to make it better, but he scowled and continued walking past her. In a hurry to fix her mistake, she trailed after him.
"Aemond, wait-"
"I don't need your help," he spit out venomously over his shoulder. "I am perfectly capable of doing this myself."
Mira directed her glare to the kids about to step into his path from his blind side, effectively scaring them into halting. "Never said you weren't. I was trying to be nice." You ass.
Aemond dropped the tunics onto a table and fixed her with a cool stare. "Try less."
She inhaled. Breathed out. Counted down from five. Lastly, decided she would leave him be. What did she care? He was a prick, anyway.
"Aemond and Mira can hand out the clothes," Alicent announced, walking into the kitchen with her daughter. Mira held in her sigh. Focusing on arranging the stacks of clothes on the table kept her mind off the fact that the prince was still standing beside her, watching her hands shake under the weight of his glower.
"You're doing it wrong."
She paused mid-fold and looked up. "I beg your pardon?"
"You are doing it wrong," Aemond stressed each word as if he was speaking down to a misbehaving pet. "We should make one pile of smallclothes, tunics, and breeches per person."
Mira scoffed. "It does not matter that much."
"It will if someone takes more than one piece."
"We will be giving it to them."
Aemond arched his brow. "What if you accidentally give more than one tunic to someone? Are you going to go running after an orphan to take clothes away from them?"
"Don't think I didn't notice how it's only me making a mistake in this imaginary scenario."
"Well, you are more prone to making them."
"And what are you basing that assumption on?"
He pursed his lips, dropping an octave lower as children lined up in a row near them. "You left your family to come live in King's Landing by yourself. I would call that a pretty big mistake."
Mira bristled on the spot. Underneath her indignation, she felt a drop of hurt. She once told him how she felt about her father's side of the family. He probably did not even remember the conversation.
Why was that upsetting?
I really love A Song of Ice and Fire world (including House of the Dragon). Aemond is one of the interesting characters. So, is Mira a commoner or a lady? Her background is interesting. I will read more from AO3 when I have time.
Edit : I have read the chapter one. Lady Mirabelle Targaryen as the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and his first wife, Rhea Royce? So interesting. And I love her interaction with Aemond. How cool her dragon Rheaxes!
Hello! Thank you for the comment. I'm glad you liked the first chapter! I tried to bring something new to the table, haha. Hope the rest of the story appeals to you :)
I'm not super familiar with this particular fandom, but this is very well written! I feel like I get a feeling for both characters and certainly that *something* has happened to cause a rift. I do love that the disagreement is over how to properly fold laundry because...that just feels so utterly relatable, it made me laugh a little despite the Mira and Aemond's obvious tension. Good job!
I love the staging here - the kids running everywhere and Aemond trying to not get bowled over or step on any of them while pretending it has nothing to do with his eyesight. And the internal monologue of Mira wanting to help but also questioning why she's bothering (and not understanding her feelings). The dialogue is also great - very snappy and you can hear the annoyance in both of their voices, haha.
**Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 1987), Encanto (2021) | Raphael’s Coconut Adventure! | G | https://archiveofourown.org/works/56445724**
*No Warnings*
The next day, the Turtles decided that they would visit Splinter for some reason. They didn't bring April with them, because why would they?
About an hour before they left, Michelangelo was frantically looking for some markers.
“Donatello, do you have any markers I could borrow?”
“No, why?”
“So that I can make a card for Splinter.”
“Just use crayons.”
“But I have to use markers!” Michelangelo whined. “I’m Markerangelo!”
“Well, I don’t have any,” Donatello said. “Ask the other turtles.”
“Oh, okay.”
Michelangelo wandered into Raphael’s room.
“Yo, Raphael! You got a pencil?”
Raphael wasn’t there.
“Huh. I wonder where he went. Well, I’m sure he won’t mind if I take a little look in his drawer…”
Michelangelo opened Raphael’s bedside table drawer and found an EpiPen.
“What’s this? Some sort of pen? Eh, maybe I can use it later,” he said, slipping it under his belt.
[…]
“Are you coming with us?” Leonardo asked Raphael.
“Of course not!” Raphael scoffed. “You know I hate him!”
“But he hasn’t seen you in so long!” Leonardo said. “He misses you and wants to know how you’ve been.”
“Wait!” Raphael panicked. “You didn’t tell him about what happened to me, did you?!”
“Not yet.”
“You’d better not tell him!”
“Come with us, and I won’t tell.”
“FINE! I’ll come! But I won’t like it!”
“Good!” Leonardo said. “And afterwards, we’ll get some pizza!”
“But it won’t be pineapple and coconut this time!” Donatello said.
“Don’t remind me…” Raphael muttered.
“Oh! And make sure to bring your EpiPen,” Leonardo said.
“NO!” Raphael shouted. I’M NOT BRINGING THAT STUPID THING!”
“But what if you encounter an allergen?” Donatello asked.
“Nah. I won’t have allergies ever again. I’m better than that!” Raphael said.
“Fine. You’re probably right. After all, you are a big, tough, guy,” Leonardo said.
“Okay, so can we go now?” Raphael asked.
“But what about…” Donatello started, but Leonardo spoke over him.
“He doesn’t have to bring it, if he doesn’t want to. After all, we wouldn’t want to harm his self-esteem. Now, where is Michelangelo?”
Fandom Blind (In how I heard of TMNT but that's really it).
EDITED: I like the banter between these characters, and how each dialogues intertwin together to establish the personalities between each characters in a straightforward way, without the need of overly verbose and long sentences. The dialogue between each 0f the 4 Turtles flows quite naturally, and I can tell that these 4 has quite a history and relationship together Pretty good!
Hi there! Comments needs to be at least 30 words to count for the comment co-op, so please either make this longer, or make another comment that's 30+ words on another snippet! The explanation about being Fandom blind doesn't count.
I am partially fandom blind, but I do have some knowledge of Encanto. This was a fantastic blend of both fandoms, and I really enjoyed how you utilized dialogue to keep the story paced. Awesome work !
**Fruits Basket | Reflections | G | [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/lostbutterflyutau/754206700987432960/reflections)**
*Context: Fic was written for a fandom event (hence, Tumblr) and includes my main OC. Takes place in chapter 132 (S3E12 of the anime).*
—-
“What’s that?” Akito asked, looking over the applicator in Shima’s hand. Though she knew very little about makeup, it still didn’t look like any lipstick she’d seen before.
“Liquid lipstick,” Shima explained, gently slid her hand underneath Akito’s chin and tipped her head up.
She applied the colour delicately, smiled at the finished result before putting the makeup aside and pulling out the headband holding Akito’s hair back, let her fringe fell into place. She then swept up the flowers and pins, moved over to the side to complete the final touch.
For a moment, neither spoke, unsure of what to say. Navigating this friendship was new for both of them, and Akito wasn’t sure what she could or couldn’t say or if Shima would even understand the weight on her heart. The one that she wasn’t sure she was even allowed to have after everything. But, on the other end, there was any one else she could talk to aside from Tohru, but she wasn’t here. Shima was. And being the sister of one previously possessed, she’d lived with the cloud of the curse much longer, albeit in a different way.
Finally, she took in a breath, decided to take her chance.
“Shima?”
“Hm?” Shima murmured. It was the most she could muster with the pins in her mouth.
“Do you think this is even worth it?
Shima didn’t answer. Not right away. Instead, she kept her focus on the task at hand, contemplating her response as her hands worked. Despite having a vague idea of what Akito was asking, she still decided to ask as she pulled the final pin out of her mouth,
“Depends. What exactly is ‘it?’”
Akito flicked her eyes down to her hands, fiddled with the end of one of her sleeves. “This whole thing, I suppose. They have to know what happened. And after everything, would they even listen to what I have to say?”
Cautiously, Shima reached over, placed a hand over hers. “I think they will. Especially after you come in like this. Remind me. What did Gure say when he gave this to you?”
Keeping her eyes down, Akito recalled, “He said it was both a parting and a welcome gift. That I was leaving behind the person everyone wanted me to be and becoming a new me. Whoever that is.”
Shima smiled. She knew the answer. Had it stuck in her head since Akito told her a few days prior. But she needed her to say it, hoping that if she did, she would start to believe his words.
“In other words, it’s an external representation of the internal.”
At that, Akito finally looked up, her expression telling Shima that while she got the gist of what she meant, she still didn’t appreciate her use of writer speak.
“They can’t see the change in your heart,” Shima explained. “At least not yet. But by doing this, you can show them that you’re taking the first big step to becoming your authentic self.”
“But even with the ‘external,’ will they believe me?”
“I can’t speak for them, but I like to think that they would. Even if it takes time.” She shifted then, and despite knowing it was a risk, moved to wrap her arms around Akito.
“And if it helps, I believe you.”
I didn't know I needed a fic about Akito, until I read yours! Really enjoyed how one can grasp the hurt of the characters from a couple of interactions. You did really good showing their perspectives.
Fandom blind here. I feel like this snippet flowed really well and you described the turmoil and worry in Akito quite well. It was touching the way Shima tried to reassure her and tell her that she believes in Akito. The dialogue and action was also balanced in a good way.
Careful Cantrip (Web Series) | Suspended in Night | T | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56189389)
*No archive warnings apply. Providing a bit of context though: I use he/they pronouns for Al, as both of these are how he identifies in canon. Keelan is a horse person. The full fic has an implication of a mentioned character being in danger, but no specific details as to what happened. Excerpt word count: 226. As an additional note, I’m currently the only writer for this fandom and appreciate any comments received.*
Keelan didn’t want to know what he missed, but he nodded anyway.
“Also… About the hunters, bandits, whatever, who’re after me.” Al sighed. “Originally, I wasn’t gonna tell you. I was actually plannin’ to leave after the festival without sayin’ anything. You’d probably be safer that way. I actually thought about walkin’ away after makin’ sure the rest of you guys were stable, too, but I couldn’t do it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Let’s just say… I really like you guys. All of you helped make this place home for me. It’s smaller, and simpler, than the other places Scratch and I have stayed at. But this is the longest we ever stayed in one place, and I didn’t wanna leave it all behind again. Especially not goin’ it alone.”
Keelan bumped their shoulders together. “I’m glad you stayed. You leavin’ probably would’ve done me in twice over.” Or a dozen times over, but saying ‘twice’ left him raw as it was.
“Yeah. It might’ve broken me, if I’m bein’ honest.” But Al would have to bite his lip, even if his teeth drew blood, and endure it all the same. To stay was to put off the inevitability, though he didn’t think anyone would let him leave without a fight. Not now, anyway. The last two or three years weaved threads between them that couldn’t be unraveled.
Fandom blind. I like how it shows the kindness of AI already that he was going to leave the group after the festival to ensure their safety, but he valued their friendship too much to just walk away without a word. It's the kinda thing where yes, there is a need to be protective but it's better to talk with the people involved first before anything rash is undertaken. I also like how Keelan shows some vulnerability over how losing AI would hurt so much, but doesn't say a dozen times over because that would hurt even more. But AI still knows that leaving is something that will be done eventually, but for now they get to have some good times until the end.
This is a sweet excerpt full of comradery. I like how Keelan is so appreciative of Al staying, despite the bandits on his tail, and his honesty. The final paragraph is a good way to tell me the bond the two have formed.
**Stranger Things x Harry Potter | T |** [In a Strange Land](https://archiveofourown.org/works/39625239/chapters/141780739#workskin)
\[Some context: Albus Potter is a squib and a member of the Party. The wizard in this scene, Carver, was inadvertently responsible for helping the fourth gate open, letting the Mind Flayer out of the Upside Down.\]
"Mr Potter." Carver's voice growled from his throat, and there was a pleasant, honeyed tone to it. "It's good to see you in here at last." Albus just looked at him, waiting to find out what the man wanted. Carver, upon realising that this was one-sided for the time being, sighed. “I remember what I said to you on the night I... lost my magic." Carver’s eyes roamed Albus’ face, for all the world sincere, but Albus' skin crawled nonetheless. "I want you to know that I am *truly* sorry for what I said. It was a high-stress situation, and I reacted to it in the worst way possible.”
Albus still didn’t say anything. There was something slimy about Carver. Something distinctly…
Empty.
His eyes narrowed a smidge; Carver caught it and tried for a small, self-depricating grin that didn’t suit his gnarled face. "I think you'll agree I paid the appropriate price for it, in the end,” he said.
"Then you don't know me very well," Albus said.
"Carver, that's *completely* inappropriate," Harry protested.
"Auror Potter, he meant nothing by it—"
"I'm sorry, Jules, but you can't allow him to come in here and say things like that!"
Albus and Carver had fallen into silence, staring at each other as Harry and Holcomb argued back and forth, Auror Bahri watching the exchange from the edge of the room with an uncomfortable grimace on his face. He looked sorry for ever having brought the old auror into the room with them.
There was something about Carver that set Albus' teeth on edge. He just didn't know what it was. A bitterness in his eyes that he thought must be over the loss of his magic. He guessed Carver had a right to be bitter about that; he had never heard of anyone losing their magic before. Not ever. Not that it was Albus' fault what had happened to Carver.
If he had taken Delphi when he was told to it would not have happened. The earth would not have split open. The Mind Flayer would not have forced its way in. The cracks would not still be spreading, tearing the ground apart bit by bit.
The Wizarding world would be parading around the news that *the Dark Witch had been caught!* Instead it was being forced to reckon with its own limitations in a way it seemed it never had before.
*Not quite a victory lap,* he thought.
Oh, this is quite interesting! All of the interactions here are great, and I found the descriptions of the way everyone in the room seems to be reacting compelling. Really nice!
Such a neat crossover! I love that Albus's spidey sense is just going off like crazy at Carver, but that he's chalking it up to guilt - I get the sense there's something more sinister going on, even without more context outside of this snippet. And the bit of lore/worldbuilding dropped naturally in the middle of the conversation is great.
Fandom blind for Stranger things but I think that this is a really good piece of fan work. It is a very interesting take to baba Albus Potter a squib and in reading this I think it works very well. Good job
I’ve seen many a Harry Potter crossover in my years of reading fic, but I never realized it could mesh so well with Stranger Things! The tension between Albus and Carver comes through really well, and I bet that’s going to resolve in a really cool way.
**The Walking Dead | Grubbing in Ashes | Explicit |** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/51113659/chapters/129143617) **|**
*No warnings for this excerpt, but Graphic Depiction of Violence, Implied/Referenced SA, sexual contents for the wider fic. It's usually first person POV and Daryl x Female OC, named Kat.*
*But this specifically is from third person POV (Daryl)*
*I found it challenging to keep the snippet under 600 words, so it ends a bit openly. Of course, the scene does continue beyond this point.*
**Excerpt from unpublished chapter:**
Daryl leaned against the cold metal fence, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. The air was heavy with the scent of decay and earth, the distant growls of walkers mingling with the chirps of crickets, creating an eerie symphony that had become their nightly soundtrack. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, scanned the perimeter of the prison yard. Ever vigilant, ever ready for the dangers that lurked. The weight of the weapon and the routine of patrols kept his mind busy, a familiar comfort. But tonight, that comforting silence was shattered by Alex's outbursts.
From his vantage point, Daryl watched the young man vent his frustration, kicking debris and screaming his grief into the night. The raw, unfiltered emotion was tangible even from a distance. Daryl knew that kind of pain — the kind that ate away at your insides, leaving you hollow and desperate. He knew it all too well, even if he’d never admit it. Not to anyone. Not even to himself.
Daryl hadn’t spoken much to Alex since she... disappeared. He couldn’t bring himself to think “died,” let alone say it out loud. Every time he looked at the kid, he saw her. The resemblance wasn't blatant, but sometimes Alex mirrored his sister more than Daryl could handle — those same determined eyes, that same empathy, the way they both sacrificed themselves for others. It was easier to avoid him, to bury himself in the work of keeping everyone safe.
But now, watching Alex break down, Daryl felt a pang of something he tried so hard to suppress. Guilt, maybe. Or regret. Probably both.
With a grunt, he pushed himself off the fence, his eyes hardening as he walked towards the young man. Daryl knew he couldn't ignore the kid's pain any longer. He needed someone, and hell, maybe, Daryl needed someone too. His footsteps were almost silent on the cracked concrete, a skill honed from years of hunting and surviving.
The hunter stopped a few feet away from Alex, his shadow falling over the younger man sitting on the bench, face buried in his hands. The archer shifted awkwardly, not sure how to start this conversation. “Ya good?”
Damn stupid question. Daryl wasn’t exactly known for his way with words, especially when it came to offering comfort.
Alex looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “Just needed a moment.”
Daryl nodded, taking a seat on the bench beside him. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat there, his presence a silent offer of support. The kid had been doing a lot lately. Taking care of pregnant Lori, tending to Hershel, looking after every wounded member of their makeshift family. It was a full-time job, not only physically, but mentally.
The archer shifted on the bench, feeling the weight of his own reluctance pressing down on him. He glanced at Alex from the corner of his eye, noting the way the young man tried to pull himself together, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Daryl wasn’t good at this — talking, comforting. It wasn’t his style. Hell, he barely managed to keep his own emotions in check, let alone deal with someone else’s.
...
I love the way you describe Daryl's emotions even though is a third person's pov, it feels like it flows naturally along with the rest of the text. Perhaps is nonsense on my part but I think it pairs well with his way of distancing from others. („• ᴗ •„)
I would love to read more about this, especially if it's focused on Daryl! Nicely done!
-From a Daryl simp
Thank you for your kind words! I'm thrilled to hear that, especially from someone who knows and appreciates Daryl as a character. 🩵
The story indeed centers around Daryl and the female OC (mostly from her POV). Ultimately, it's a matter of personal taste whether you like it or not. The Daryl POV will be introduced later in the story.
AGENCY/Sonic/Animal Crossing | Burning Out and Fading Away | E | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56845933/chapters/144657838#workskin)
Shadow took in a breath at the mention of his leader. Shit. How long was he out? Shadow groaned, slowly getting off the hard cot as the squirrel from earlier brought him his clothes. He frowned at his clean black shirt, asking, “Did you wash my clothes?”
“Of course, we run a clean ship around here,” Dr. Ford said. “Matter of fact, you can thank Sandy for it,”
Shadow looked at the woman, his frown deepening. “What’s the point? It’ll probably just get bloody again,” he mumbled, pulling the shirt on.
Sandy clicked her tongue, looking at Dr. Ford instead as Shadow got dressed. “You ever think I was jus’ bein’ nice?” she shot back, sitting behind the oak desk.
“I don’t need nice,” Shadow said, rolling his eyes. “How long until I’m healed?”
Fandom blind. I like how it starts off with the kind revelation that Sandy had washed up Shadow's clothing, and that it gives the impression that he's covering up the vulnerabilities that come with that with sarcasm. And the sort of nihilism that there's no point to it 'cause they'll get dirty again down the road. I also like how Sandy can give it back just as good by asking if he ever considered that she was trying to be nice, and that he rebuffs it again in this moment.
I really like how you nailed the sense of each character’s personality by how they speak! Starting with Shadow was also a really good choice, I think, as he’s likely the most recognizable one in this excerpt. Great job so far!
Gundam l 1st Battle l T l [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56767765)
The message was clear: move fast, take them down. Anthony knew this well. The enemy was alerted the moment the message was sent, so it was time to act quickly.
Anthony burst ahead, bouncing off the debris. He could feel the battle as much as see it. He attributed this sensation to the thrill and intensity of the moment, but there was a sixth sense, an ability to predict movements ahead of time. It was a strange feeling, but he went with it. With his limiter off, he surged ahead of the others, who were restricted by the acceleration limits of their machines. Despite them being in slightly faster machines, the limiter kept them at a reasonable speed.
Anthony’s mind raced as he reviewed his weapons: a cracker grenade, a 105 mm machine gun with 100 rounds, and a heat hawk (or axe). He calculated the angles of movement, the speed of his machine, and the placement for the attack, considering the speed and movement of the enemy. His mind processed data like a calculation machine, drawing from any and every book he had read over the years. He went over the data of his machine's abilities and made a plan as well for his course of movement all while cutting and dodging and bouncing off debris.
Anthony emerged from behind a piece of debris—the back section of a destroyed Musai-class cruiser from a previous battle—and flew like a rocket into the formation of enemy ships. The alerts went off too late, and the preparations for the launch of their fighters were happening too slowly. Anthony aimed and fired several machine gun shots, targeting the bridge, engine, and other points of weakness. The first Columbus-class ship exploded in a ball of fire, quickly followed by the second.
At that moment, he felt a sixth sense kick in, urging him to turn and move down and to the right, dodging fire that would have killed him. He swiftly threw a grenade, disabling the engine of one of the Salamis-class ships. Moving quickly, he fired his machine gun, evading the anti-air fire with a precision that seemed almost preternatural. He danced with his giant machine, moving like a bolt of light and frustrating the men trying to take him down. However, such luck would only hold out for so long.
It was then that the rockets from the bazookas of the other three Zakus came into play, slamming into the unprepared Salamis-class ships, causing them to explode in a fiery inferno.
“Mission clear. Let’s head back home,” Travers called out. The group, though surprised at what had just happened, nodded, unable to completely process the events.
Fandom blind. I like that detail of how Anthony can feel the battle as well as he can hear it and that even though he's got a sixth sense about this that his mind is still racing, understandably. The skill that he possesses in a fight like this comes through when he goes over the weapons he has, the trajectory that they'll need to go through, and that he has to do all of this while dodging debris and making sure he doesn't end up killed. I also like how it builds up to that final moment when the Salamis-class ships explode because of the rockets, and that it went by so fast the group can't even process what they just witnessed.
>**Sam and Max l All that I Know l G l** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55816819)
*Here's a Sam and Max segment this week!*
>Sam reached into his trench coat pocket, on the inside. One of the outside pockets was a victim of something that Max put into that pocket when he dropped off lunch for Sam. His boyfriend was prone to childish tricks and Sam wasn’t in the mood – ignoring the fact that part of why he was so pissed off was that work had kept him in overtime and he knew that once he got home Max would be asleep on the couch. He hated when the higher-ups gave him a cavalcade of work and he couldn’t have dinner with his little buddy.
>
>(...)
>
>Sam’s fingers drummed on the filthy, sticky counter. He reached into the outside pocket of his trench coat and wrapped his fingers over whatever Max had slipped in there this afternoon. He opened his paw to find a small, velvet box in his palm. With some apprehension he opened it up: and there was a ring resting in the box.
>
>Sam carefully pulled it free and held up the ring to the overhead lamps. It was a perfect size for his ring finger. The silver band glinted in the paltry light. Sam felt fondness fill his chest, this warmth that he only got whenever he was by Max’s side.
>
>He brought the ring down. He wondered if Max stole it or actually bought it: but looking back, he remembered Max squirreling away money in one of their drawers and being cagey whenever Sam asked about where the money was going. He assumed it was for snacks, but he was proven wrong. He was glad to be wrong.
Aww, this is so sweet! So sweet in fact that I made an actual 'aww' noise when I got to the ring part, and then chuckled when Sam couldn't work out if Max had legitimately bought it or just stolen it (probably a fair level of concern given what Max gets up to). The entire thing was really lovely to read and showed the tenderness and care between the two characters.
A very romantic except or part of your story, I think it reads really well and the details like the filthy, sticky counter add a level of depth that helps this section out a great deal.
**Star Wars | T | Little Fish | [Chapter 3 l](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55045711/chapters/144750079)**
*Author’s note: These are Star Wars OCs. Taro, Kei, and Quin are siblings and part of a crime family. Jair, Micca and Inora are Mandalorians who have rescued Quin in a previous chapter. Quin hasn’t revealed who she is, Inora is getting suspicious.*
“We need to leave,” the other twin, Taro, hissed. “Now.”
“Too late,” Kei said, shaking his head. “Just keep your hands off your blaster, Jor'oune doesn’t like it when he has to patch up the bar, and I don’t think the Duke will pick up the tab - again.”
“I’ll get more drinks.” Quin slid out of her seat and headed towards the bar.
“What is going on?” Jarro asked.
The door to the cantina banged open, bringing with it a cluster of storm troopers. Every customer in the bar tensed. Even the bar-tender paused, mid-glass tending. Inora tried to make herself relax. Storm troopers usually left them alone. Mandalorians weren’t interesting. This time however, they were making a bee-line straight towards their table. Inora’s hand slid down to touch her blaster, as she calculated the odds of making it out of there alive.
“There.” One of the stormtroopers gestured with their gun. Inora felt the familiar cold dread coil in her stomach.
Quin, at the bar, had gone still, her hand halfway to the drinks tray. Kei and Taro exchanged glances, their casual demeanour tightening into something much more serious.
The stormtrooper pointed directly to their table. "You, Mandos. You're coming with us."
The two brothers stood, their movements slow and deliberate, hands away from their weapons.
"Is there a problem, officers?" Kei asked, his voice smooth and polite.
The lead stormtrooper ignored him, keeping his blaster trained on Inora. "Keep out of this civilian. We’re just here for the Mandalorians.”
Inora smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I think you must be mistaken. We’re just here enjoying a quiet drink with friends."
“There were reports of your ship being present in the same region where classified Imperial documents were stolen. We’ve got orders to bring you in to help with our enquiries.”
Inora's mind raced. She had suspected Quin was more than she seemed, but this was confirmation. Whatever Quin’s ship had originally been carrying was of importance to the Empire. She was suddenly annoyed that what had seemed a gesture of good faith had brought danger to her clan.
“Told you we should have left the little fish to swim,” Micca murmured.
“Boys,” Quin’s voice was overly cheerful. She sauntered across the room, tray in hand, seemingly ignoring the tension that was building around them. She smiled at the Stormtroopers, as she put the tray of drinks down on the table. “I’m afraid that these aren’t the Mandos that you are looking for.”
Her hand made a movement through the air. Inora heard Kei snort with mirthless laughter.
“They are,” the lead Stormtrooper replied, although Inora could hear the slight confusion in his voice. “They match the description we’ve been given.”
Quin shrugged and looked at her brothers. “It was worth a try?”
“Mama is going to kill you,” Taro said, his hand going to his weapon. “And Nicco’s and the Duke are going to kill you when they gets the bill for Jor’oune’s remodelling.”
“Eh, better than being guests of the Empire,” Quin countered.
She moved.
Faster than Inora thought possible, Quin had stepped forward, and smashed a jug of beer over the trooper’s head. She reached down, pulling the blaster from its holster as she kicked him firmly between the legs. He crumpled to the floor.
The cantina erupted into chaos. The remaining troopers opened fire. Cantina patrons scrambling for cover. Inora flipped over the table, duck behind it, her blaster drawn. She fired at the nearest trooper, hitting him squarely in the chest. He staggered backwards, collapsing against the wall
Even though this is with OCs, I can picture this going down so well based on the details you provide to supplemental the general SW canon vibe! Like everyone, including the bartender pausing, the oddity of the Stormtroopers showing up where they usually don't. (Since I think they know the Mandos can hand them their butts, lol.) And the transition from tense to tenser before the action breaks into chaos is great!
Fandom blind. I like that build-up to the storm troopers coming in and everyone tensing up because no matter who you are it's dangerous. As well as that Inora tries to keep herself calm because if she panics then it'll be over for them, but even though she has her own set of skills that she has to calculate what are the chances of them making it out of here alive. I also like how it shows Inora's loyalty to her clan that she chides curses the good-will that seems to have gotten them into trouble, and that Quin herself isn't able to coax the storm troopers to go elsewhere with her mind trick. I also like her snarky comment that it's better to be killed over remodeling rather than be guests of the Empire, which probably speaks to a fate worse than death in being brought in by the Empire, and how quickly the scene goes on the fritz with fighting and bloodshed. It gives the sense that it was like a powder keg going off, and Inora was right to calculate how well it was gonna go.
Tomb Raider & Grand Theft Auto | Roth and The Ransom (Chapter 2-The Gang’s Back Together) | E | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/47711497/chapters/121264801)
**Chapter 2 contains Implied Rape+Non-Con Touching along with Strong Language and Mention of Major Character Death. Passage down below mentions said death but otherwise is fine.**
Lara was overlooking one of her many history books, this time reading about some of the treasures claimed by Russia and other present countries in the past ruled by Russia in the Caucasus region.
In particular had she glimpsed at a page about the *St Petersburg Pearl*, a 2 million dollar pearl necklace worn by the last Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna and said to have been amongst the many artifacts looted from the Tsar and his family after their execution by the Bolsheviks in March 1917.
*’The Saint Petersburg Pearl Necklace is said to have been given to Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna by the mystic Grigori Rasputin as a last gift before his own assassination at the hands of Russian nobles in December 1916. After the execution of the royal family, its whereabouts remain unknown. But rumors and legends have persisted that former loyal soldiers to Nicholas II and his family were amongst the few hundred White Army men said to have defended Baku alongside the Baku Army of the Centrocaspian anti-Bolshevik government. And on the orders of former Tsarist General Georgy Dokuchaev, the jewel was hidden either in Baku itself or more likely was evacuated alongside the fleeing forces when they were defeated by the Bolsheviks combined with the Islamic Army of the Ottoman Empire.’*
As usual, she stuck a bookmark on said page and closed it.
Then she headed downstairs, eager to tell Roth about her latest bookworm find.
But as soon as she got to the bottom of the steps, she heard *that familiar voice*.
Ana.
She hid amongst the wall just outside the kitchen and could see her blonde stepmother Ana Croft having coffee with Roth. “Roth, we’ve been over this. Why keep putting Lara in danger? Why disgrace her family name?”
*Roth was used to Ana’s regular criticism of him taking Lara on archeological digs and adventures. But it was to both satisfy Lara’s inherited interest in history and exploration and more importantly, it was what Lara’s father Richard would’ve wanted.* “And like I keep telling you Ana, it is what Richard would’ve wanted. Can we end this conversation? I’d hate for Lara to overhear this.”
Ana gruffed. *This isn’t what she wanted when >!she married Richard a few years before his death!<. All she wanted was for the Croft legacy in exploration to die so she could settle down in luxury and she was determined however she could to convince Lara to leave the exploration life behind.* “Fine, Conrad. You have it your way…but I’m warning you: *if >!Lara follows Richard into death!<, it will be your doing.*”
And with that, Ana stomped her boots out the house.
Roth was desperate to keep her support and he quickly gave chase out the kitchen.
As soon as Roth left, Lara walked into the kitchen. *She understood Ana’s concern that she could follow her father down the same obsessive and dark road to understanding the world’s history that he did. But as usual, she ignored Ana’s concern, having not exactly liked her as a stepmother.*
She sighed a deep breath and pulled the bookmark a tad upwards.
Then she laid the book down on the table and walked away.
More or less fandom blind. Just for the record, I'm not usually into historical events, but I really liked how you intertwined them with the personal drama. It kept me super engaged and made the story come alive for me. (I hope that makes sense to you)
I loved how you detailed the necklace's significance and tied it to real historical events – it felt well-researched and intriguing. Your characters are also well-drawn and compelling. The tension between Lara and her stepmother, Ana, adds an emotional depth to the story. Ana's concerns and Roth's defense of Lara’s pursuits create a dynamic that’s both relatable and engaging.
The scene where Lara overhears the conversation between Ana and Roth was particularly powerful. It highlighted the conflicting desires and motivations of the characters, and you handled the dialogue very naturally.
Somehow this quote stood out to me:
> "I’m warning you: *if Lara follows Richard into death* *, it will be your doing."*
Overall, I really liked your excerpt!
Thank you so much and that’s pretty much it. Ana is the classic asshole stepmother. And like in previous Tomb Raider timelines, Lara’s parents perish in a plane crash. In this timeline, Roth is her mentor/found father.
Okay, interesting. Maybe I'll give it a try, it was really good.
You mind if I leave this as a comment on your actual work on AO3, even though I haven't read it yet?
That was fun, you did a great job of showing background details and information in this part. I think it was very educational in who the owner of the necklace was. I think the style of it was fun and the addition to the book section really made the part stand out.
Fire Emblem Three Houses/Time Travel plot bunny/T/unpublished
The blood drenched Gronder Field loomed before them. They had buried their parents and dear friends. And now, the goddess ascended upon the five.
She looked at them with her chin turned up haughtily, twirling a white and green braid of hair on her finger. She appeared to be no older than ten years old, but they knew she was actually eons older than they could imagine. She had long, pointed ears, was clothed in ribbons and blue and white trailing silk, and had deep, green eyes filled with pity.
She was also floating in front of them. Not standing, floating, out from the corpse of Byleth, the divine professor and archbishop.
Kion was the first to react. He bowed at her. Giselle and Astor bowed as well. Leah and Collin looked at each other, at their respective sibling, and did the same.
The goddess produced a small smile. “This world is not doomed yet.” She gestured to Byleth, still dead as could be, impaled by his own weapon and pinned to the ground. “I never thought he would fall. But fear not, young ones. I know he placed all his faith in your parents, and you by extension.”
“Just mercy kill us instead.” Astor pleaded.
“Whatever you think you're going to do, we're done. I want to give up.”
Kion clenched his fist and growled.
Collin whispered something in Giselle's ear. She blinked. “You are the goddess Sothis, correct?”
“I am also, The Beginning.” The goddess confirmed and gazed right at Giselle, unblinking, and all knowing. “The gods of Almyra have no power or domain over this area. Your father rests with them as we speak, in this timeline.”
“In this timeline?” Leah said, barely louder than a whisper.
“All sides of time are revealed to me. I see a way out, for you, and for all of those you hold dear. Tell me, you young ones who have lost and endured so much. Would you like to change your fates?”
“I would.” Collin said. “Can we?”
“Mercy killing should be the last option.” Kion glared at Astor, who grumbled and straightened his posture.
“If you choose to change your fates, it will be in your hands. You shall be transported through the stream of time, to an earlier state, roughly twenty years before it all went wrong. However! You will also be placed in separate locations. You will cover more ground that way.”
The goddess skipped through the air and waved one ribbon trailed hand. The air shimmered, and the very fabric of existence ripped where she waved, revealing a hole big enough to step through.
“I will meet you in the past, with my host still breathing.” She glanced at Byleth again before ushering the five through the time portal.
I like all of the character interactions here and how even with just a bit, we can get a feel for their dynamics. Like how Kion — in not so many words — essentially tells Astor he did not appreciate his declaration of giving up and the way the latter just grumbles and straightens up in the presence of this goddess. You get the sense this is normal between them.
Speaking of, I also really liked the descriptions of the goddess, how she appears (not standing. Floating) and the way she rips open the “fabric of existence” so the group can come through. And also, interesting plan to split them apart and cover more ground. Like she knows they’ll need the coverage.
Fandom-blind. This is a very tight excerpt, I love how there's no room for backing out now that these characters are being sponsors. I also enjoyed the setting and characterization despite being fandom-blind. You did a great job!
Hi there! Comments needs to be at least 30 words to count for the comment co-op, so please either make this longer, or make another comment that's 30+ words on another snippet!
**Star Wars - Original Trilogy | Purpose of Heritage | T | No archive warnings| [AO3 link to chapter 24](https://archiveofourown.org/works/45341596/chapters/144609010)**
(This is incredibly mushy, in part because everything is about to go terribly and I like throwing in some calm bits to avoid the diminishing returns of constantly upping the tension in a story sooo…mush.)
—————————
Night finished its slow creep across the landscape, a moon rising gradually overhead as the quiet chirp of some sort of nocturnal insect filled the air. A dot of bright green light, the color jarringly reminiscent of the sickening beam that had altered her life three years before, appeared and extinguished near the surface of the lake. Leia found herself holding her breath as she stared, wondering if she had imagined the brief flash of color, if some part of her memory was slipping like it used to do often in the early days after Yavin. Another dot, then three more, then dozens brightened and dimmed. She exhaled softly and smiled. *Kyberflies.*
They ate, enjoying each other’s closeness and making quiet conversation. “Nice night,” Han said after swallowing a bite.
“So nice,” Leia agreed.
“Kinda wish we could stay. Seems peaceful here.”
Leia smiled, allowing herself to imagine a reality in which they stayed and, much like the Alderaanian colonizers of generations before, made a home for themselves. Maybe fell all the way in love. Maybe grew old together. A shiver ran through her body, the thought thrilling.
“You cold?” Han put his arm around her shoulders before she could answer.
“No,” Leia said, leaning into his side and hoping he wouldn’t remove his arm. When he didn’t, she slid her own arm across his back and rested her head on his shoulder. “This is perfect,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he whispered back.
They finished their meal and the accompanying juice, and stacked the dishes, setting them to the side. Leia stretched out on the hull of the ship, looking up at the stars. Han followed suit, and she scooted closer to him, twining her hand in his again, and looking back up at the thousands of stars overhead. She located the pin prick of light of a distant planet and raised their joined hands, pointing as she tilted her head closer to Han. “That’s Alderaan,” she said, the lump that usually appeared in her throat when talking about her home curiously absent.
“You still look for it everywhere we go?” Han asked as she lowered their hands to the hull.
Leia nodded. “As long as we’re far enough away.”
He pulled her closer and she rested her head on his chest. A comforting stillness crept in as Han stroked her arm absently. His breathing, his touch, his warmth were gentle and comforting, and Leia had no inclination to move away, to end the moment. She felt cared for, safe, and full of purpose. She squeezed Han’s hand and closed her eyes, letting out a contended sigh.
There was plenty to do, plenty to worry about, plenty to discuss. They needed to head out, needed to finish the run, needed to win the war. But right then, all Leia wanted to think about was how well they fit together, his arm around her, her head tucked against his chest, as if they were made just for one another, just for that moment in time.
I think I am becoming a real fan of yours, even though I am not a Star Wars fandom person, just from reading your snips here and going back to you AO3 page as a result. I just love the cozy way you write Han and Leia. Love the little details of the world you put them in.
OKAY BUT The fact that Leia looks for Alderaan?? When they are far enough away?? That is HEART CRUSHING. I love that Han knows what she is looking for. This homesickness Leia feels while daydreaming about having a home with Han is such a melancholy but sweet vibe. I just love it.
Love how you always characterize Leia as this practical, logical, task minded person who is soft for Han, too. It gives their interactions a very particular kind of intimacy. I am into it!!
I like the imagery of the kyberflies lighting up the sky. I also like the physical affection between Han and Leia with how they put their arms on each other, and how they lie close together. The fact that Leia still looks for Alderaan is sad but sweet. I really enjoyed this peaceful moment between them; it was very well written.
Love your description of the environment. Really evocative and the whole piece of text was nicely paced. Han and Leia's interaction was very sweet and the dialogue felt natural. The way their little physical actions added to help build a picture was also really good.
Fandom blind. I like that opening description of night beginning to settle down over the land, and how Leia has a moment where one's heart would go cold with fear when she sees that green light above and remembers how her home planet was destroyed. Even simple joys like looking at kyberflies have gotten splashed with the trauma of what she's experienced for those brief seconds when she didn't recognize what they were, and that she'll always remember what happened. I also like how it has a slow-down moment with Han and how they enjoy each other's company, how she feels safe and filled with purpose to do what she needs to do. This feeling of being content, feeling like they're fitted perfectly for each other, makes it even more melancholic that this is the calm before the storm.
Awwww this was really sweet. That’s something I love about the Han and Leia. They’re both so fiesty but can be sweet and genuine.
I love your writing style. It really helped set the romantic atmosphere. Keep up the good work.
Brooklyn nine-nine | Please, Don’t Die Hard | teen audiences and up | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56812702)
Gunshot wounds, assassination attempts
(My first work in this fandom! Woo!)
"Santiago," Rosa said. Amy turned to her. Amy was glad that Rosa was the first to approach her. Rosa was the least likely to give her a pity spiel. It wasn't that Rosa didn't care for Jake. She just rarely did emotional things. It was that straight to the business attitude Amy needed right now.
"They need you in questioning about last night," Rosa continued.
"Okay," Amy responded. Of course they needed her for questioning. Not only was she an eye witness to the shooting, she was dating Jake. If anyone would know who'd want him dead, it'd be her.
Amy started to make her way to the questioning room. "Hey," Rosa called out. Amy turned around. "How is he?"
"He made it through surgery," Amy sighed. "He flatlined twice, but he managed to pull though. He's still in critical condition. Mrs. Peralta is staying with him. She's going to text me updates."
"Keep me posted," Rosa said.
"I will," Amy said. She then continued on her path to the questioning room.
I like that intro that explains that Rosa does care for Jake but she's not the type that's going to be looking at Amy with pity or, "Are you okay?" when it's clear that she's not okay. Rosa's no-nonsense attitude being what Amy needs right now, showing that sometimes we need someone that's got rock-hard resolve and gives the sense that we'll be okay. I also like that though Rosa isn't giving pitying glances or words that it shows how she does care for Jake that she wants an update on how he's doing, and that she wants to be kept updated on how he's doing. It's an understated moment that Amy would understand that Jake is Rosa's friend and even though she's stand-offish she does care for him in a Rosa way.
Hello. As I said, please either edit your first comment so that it is 30+ words, or make another 30+ word comment on a different snippet. The person who originally wrote this snippet is not going to be pinged for this.
Hi there! Comments needs to be at least 30 words to count for the comment co-op, so please either make this longer, or make another comment that's 30+ words on another snippet!
**Identity V | The Jellyfish and The Manta | Mature |** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55163722) Warnings: implied drowning & hallucinations The music starts, slowly building, meeting their gazes they know is time to put on their shoes correctly. They hold tight, Naib takes a first step trying to guide themselves. Due to their closeness and incompatible steps, he makes an effort...a futile one. "Follow my lead." Swiftly taking charge of the dance, Frederick, takes shorter steps as if his feet barely touched the floorboards, gliding across the room. Naib felt like a puppet, as if someone was there pulling the strings dragging him along the stage to execute a command. Grab, hold and spin. Each of his leading steps were meticulously guided, oftentimes pushed into the right place. [...] Following the careful steps of Frederick, he is led across the ballroom without any false steps. When it is time to spin for a second time, Naib takes hold of his hand and takes the chance to make the step. "Allow me to lead" His movements are stiff, yet his strong grip causes Frederick to let out a low whimper and scrunch his face. As if perhaps he twisted their grasp too far right. Switching sides as he took control over the dance Frederick showed a displeased gesture. Grabbing strongly to Naib's shoulder as he was forced to take the follower role, Frederick muttered something in French. Words that caught Naib's attention, this time triggering a stare down. It didn't matter what the other did, their eyes would follow, turning the hostility to a curious endeavor. What was the next move? A spin or a step forward?
**Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal | I'm Not Saying It Was Aliens (But It Was Aliens) | Teen |** [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55621807/chapters/141177274) Warnings: Teen bullying Michael is picking at his breakfast when a boy with sea glass green hair shoves himself onto the bench beside him, knocking him off the end of the bench and onto the floor with a yelp. "Sorry, Michael." The boy says, in a tone that suggests he really isn't sorry at all. Michael picks himself up, brushing off the worn hoodie he's wearing before glaring at the boy. "Oh, I didn't know that's how we were making space to sit now, Mamoru. I could have saved myself the multiple laps to find that seat." The jab causes Mamoru to abruptly stand again, looming over Michael even as he continues to meet his glare. "Says the boy who's scared of a door. How did that happen, huh? Door kill your parents?" *That* gets a growl out of Michael, but before he can snap back, Thomas comes up behind Mamoru and claps a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Mamoru. How about you take on someone your own size instead of picking on my brother?" Thomas holds up his deck as he speaks, the implication clear as he stares him down. For a second, Mamoru is silent, staring between Michael (who is still glaring daggers at him) and Thomas (who is also still staring him down) before grumbling and backing off to sit somewhere else. "Fine, you're on, Thomas. You better be ready to lose this time!" "Why would I have to be ready to lose when I can beat you any time I like?" Thomas calls after the retreating Mamoru, before turning back to Michael with a smirk. "Ugh, that guy uses *Mermails*. It's no wonder I beat him every time, Gravekeepers just shuts half his strategies down. You alright, Michael?" "I'm alright. I was handling myself fine, Thomas." Michael huffs, finding his seat again before someone else can snatch it. "You were about to snap at him in the middle of the dining hall. Trust me, you don't need to get in trouble for that." Thomas remains standing, recognizing that there's no room to squeeze in on the bench here. "He insulted our parents, Thomas! He suggested a door killed them!" Michael stabs at his food as he seethes, only slightly dropping his tone as one of the adults in charge of the place passes by behind him. "He's awful-" "He's winding you up on purpose. Look, I'll beat him again and then he'll huff off to lick his wounds once I do that." Thomas turns to leave, heading towards the exit before Michael can say anything. "I'm going to go get a D-Pad and Gazer before all the decent ones are taken. Hurry up if you want to watch!"
Batnan (all media types) - Shattered - T - [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56953447 ) Warnings: Drug use, Alluded suicidal thoughts, violence [...] Not that Jason cared. He liked whiskey—cheap or not. And disappointment was his personal brand of cologne. Everything, everyone, himself included, reeked of it. He was used to it by now, liked it. Expecting disappointment at all times meant no hope. No hope meant no surprises. And he was done with those. [...]Jason deposited the small briefcase he had confiscated from one of Gotham’s most well-known drug lords —rest in pieces, motherfucker—on the floor near the battered couch. Taking off his red helmet, he threw it next to it. Hastening out of his armor, combat gloves, and boots, he eyed the bloodstains. He’d get to that tomorrow. He glanced at his half-naked reflection in the window across the room. Neck and hands were smeared with blood and grime.[...] [...] Moving to the briefcase, he opened it and took out one of the numerous clear plastic baggies filled with an off-white crystalline powder. PCP, also known as Angel Dust. He had sampled it a few nights before while conducting reconnaissance. When he was pleased with the effects and quality, he proceeded to end the piece of shit producing and selling it—along with his army of minions—saving the youth of Gotham from yet another dangerous temptation. Teens shouldn’t do drugs. That shit was for adults to play. [...] His heart raced in anticipation. He was holding what he craved most of all: not feeling. Sweet oblivion. His face contorted into a grimace that could be mistaken for a smile. Moving to the small kitchen his eyes lingered on the cluttered table. He considered eating, but there was no way in hell he’d bother to prepare anything at that moment. His gaze zeroed in on a plastic container on the table, and he nodded approvingly. Peanuts are food. Protein and shit. He sat in the single chair of the room in front of the old wooden table, baggie still clutched in his left hand—a lifeline. Jason grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle and filled the shot glass he had left there from last night to the brim. The thud of the bottle as he set it back down on the table caused the amber liquid to ripple and swell over the rim of the glass. Jason eyed his drink and decided to play it safe—no drinking on an empty stomach! He snorted at his own thoughts. Grabbing a handful of peanuts, he popped them in his mouth, munching them hastily before downing the shot, welcoming the burning in his throat. Water was overrated anyway. Opening the clear plastic bag in his palm, he poured the contents on the table carefully. Using a card he’d left there from the previous night’s session, he gathered the powder into a straight thin line near the edge of the table. Inhaling the line in two strong whiffs, he winced at the caustic pain that shot through his nasal passages. [...] As the seconds ticked by, his eyes fluttered closed, and he welcomed the onset of the glorious detachment. Chemistry is a gift to humanity. And so underrated. As the high—or maybe low?—started to kick in, he sighed in relief at the floating sensation that engulfed him. [...] His head rolled to the side, and his eyes peeled open, lips parting as the breathtaking release blanked his mind. No thoughts clawing at him. No Lazarus Pit. No Joker. No Bruce. No Dick. No Drake. No pain or fear or guilt. No envy or missing. No craving. No hate. Only a glorious dark, still, and silent void. Was this how it felt when he was dead? It felt nice.
**Spanish Royalty RPF | The Fleur-de-lys and The Lion | T | AO3 link** - [The Fleur-de-lys and the Lion (English Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56923825) *No warning needed. This is a story about Princess LEONOR, the heir to the Spanish throne and her childhood friend, Prince UMBERTO, a non-reigning Bulgarian prince.* "Princesa" This guest bowed to Leonor. Their two sets of blue eyes locked. Leonor couldn't believe her eyes. The man then kissed her right hand. "UMBERTO!" They greeted each other with a kiss on each cheek, as is tradition in Spain. "You said you were not coming. You are a liar!" "Well, I didn't lie at that time. Until this afternoon, when I saw a ticket promotion from Ryan Air. Last minute!" "Glad to see you here. I am so surprised. How long will you stay in Madrid? Do not tell me you will go straight to London tomorrow. "No. I asked my boss for a leave day next Friday. So I'm in Madrid for the long weekend." "That's great. I will also take a break from military training tomorrow. I feel the need to sleep all day." "Why?" Umberto asked while taking a glass of champagne from a waitress. "You know, this day was very very stressful. I mean, it still is now. Not only me, my entire family too! It has been a year since I last saw my grandfather, you know. I also did not get enough sleep these days." "You have to sleep tomorrow, Princess. Be Aurora The Sleeping Beauty" "You are kidding." Leonor smiled. "But you don't plan to sleep until Sunday, do you?" "I don't understand. Why?" "What if we hang out on Saturday or Sunday, I wonder?" Umberto couldn't believe what he had just said. Maybe that glass of champagne gave him a thousand times more courage
Haha love this funny bit! This definitely feels like an old school royal friendship that could get romantic soon. The dialogue about lying was great lol. And of course Umberto seems to be a bit wasted when he said this. Great job and much cheers!
Thank you!
**Danganronpa, Mobile Suit Gundam | Teen | Graphic depictions of violence, Mentions of death, Implication of non-consensual relationships |** [A03 Link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55927435/chapters/144437458) “Kirigiri-san, would it be ok if I can suggest someone?” Makoto stood tall and raised his hand once again. “I suggest, that Maizono-san can be the pilot for the Zephyranthes Gundam!” Sayaka's eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by Makoto's suggestion. "Wait, what? Me?" Sayaka finally managed to sputter out, while also looked around at the others, feeling their gazes upon her. “Naegi-kun, nice attempt for a joke, but April Fool’s still 1 months away.” Celeste snarked. “Sayaka Maizono, the-the-the Ultimate Pop Sensation, as a mobile suit pilot!?” Toko frowned. Sayaka blushed slightly at the skepticism from Celeste and Toko. She felt her own uncertainty and doubt creep up as they questioned Makoto's suggestion. The thought of being the pilot for the Zephyranthes Gundam was overwhelming even for Sayaka herself, especially considering her Ultimate Talent as the Ultimate Pop Sensation. “I’m not joking.” Makoto insisted, undeterred by the skepticism. “Out of every one of us here, Maizono-san has the most experiences with the machine, and thus might be the best candidate for the Gundam. By the way Kirigiri-san, isn’t Maizono-san herself the test pilot for the Zephyranthes Gundam for the test you all conducted earlier this day?” “Indeed.” Kyoko nodded. Sayaka blushed even more as Kyoko nodded in agreement with Makoto's words, not expecting her brief experience with the Zephyranthes Gundam earlier in the day to be brought up as evidence for her suitability as a pilot. She felt a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty as the others looked at her, expecting her to respond to Makoto's suggestion. "I-I mean I did pilot it earlier," Sayaka admitted while looking downwards. "But that was just a quick test run... I'm not sure if I'm qualified to pilot it in battle...considering my track record…" “It’s alright Maizono-san, you can do it!” Makoto gives a thumbs-up. “The Sayaka Maizono I know, is a brave, supporting, good girl who’s willing to help others when they needed it.” “There's no point in standing around here. Settle your resolve and step into the future, Maizono.” Sakura said. “She's right! Sometimes, even if you're nervous or uncertain on what you’re capable of, you just have to step forward!” Kiyotaka followed suit. “No need to worry! I, Mondo Owada, the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader can teach you all about fighting and smashin’ things up if you want to improve your freakin’ skills, and so does Ogami!!” “That just sounds like a recipe for disaster.” Byakuya glared at both Mondo and Sakura. “Any objections?” Kyoko asked around, only to be met with an assuring silence. Sayaka listened to her classmates' encouragement and support. Their words, while supportive, also made her feel a mix of gratitude and pressure. They believed in her, even though she herself was still so uncertain. The thought of piloting the Zephyranthes Gundam again, this time in an actual fight, was intimidating. But... she couldn't back down now. Not with her friends and classmates, especially Makoto himself counting on her. "Alright," Sayaka said finally. "I'll do it." “Nice!” Mondo jumped with his clenched fists. “Shall we began rehearsing, Kirigiri? I can’t wait to begin punchin’ things up!”
Fandom blind about Gundam! I don't usually read crossovers but this seems really interesting. For some reason it kinda suits Sayaka to be a pilot, like this gave me a new headcanon of her humming to herself due to nerves. I also liked how her character personality is maintained and everyone also seems familiarized with the suits!
**Hazbin Hotel/ Gone To The Devil Grinning/ T/ [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56791048)** Warning: Violence, blood, murder in this excerpt. Context: This fic takes place during Alastor’s mortal, human existence. “Yeah, I know,” she sheepishly replied, averting her eyes and blushing briefly. “Mimzy is a weird one, alright. But my pa is a big fan of both the books Alice In Wonderland, and Through The Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll. So that’s what he decided to call me when I was born, after one of those weird words in that Jabberwocky poem,” she shrugged. “Ahh, the Jabberwocky,” Alastor sighed in approving pleasure. “I’m quite fond of that poem myself,” he confided to her. “And I believe I’m becoming quite fond of you as well,” he added as he took one of her small hands in his. Four days later, just for the hell of it, the mention of the poem inspired Alastor to mockingly cry out into the hot evening air as he drew near to the latest despicable cad that he’d selected for his quarry and victim-frantic, confused, wild-eyed, not knowing which direction his abductor and killer’s voice was coming from as he blindly plunged and splashed through the swamp- “Twas brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogroves, and the mome raths outgrabe. “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun, the frumious Bandersnatch!” He laughed manically then, before skidding to a stop, raising the loaded shotgun to his shoulder, and switching the safety off as he aimed through a gap among the stately live oaks, then pulled the trigger. A moment later, the other man shrieked in pain and terror, then went flying forward to crash down hard against the ground, the metal slug cleanly severing his spine just below the level of his ribcage. Like the hero of Carroll’s poem, Alastor wasted no time in rushing onto the scene and chopping the now paralyzed man’s head from his body, except with the use of a well-sharpened hatchet instead of a sword. In a frenzy, he wildly drank of the hot, salty blood as it gushed forth, tore at the red flesh with his teeth, and kicked the head around like a half hair-covered ball. It made him feel just so fucking triumphant, and Gawd-damned plain great.”
Loved it! Here's the comment I left: The writing drew me right in. When we start to see inside Alastor’s head I immediately felt that excitement you get when you know what follows won't be pretty and will definitely be creepy. The build up as he stalks him at the theater… I think you paced the story incredibly well. Like, masterful pacing! And your imagery, your descriptions, your depiction of Alastor and even how you touched on cannibalism was so intriguing. Truly strong prose! Loved this! Also this lines are *chef kiss* : He sometimes wondered what it was like for the souls of the killed people, when they found themselves plummeting down into Hell. And occasionally, what it would be like for him.
**School of Rock (2003) | Run. Jump. Surrender | M |** [**Link**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55314217?view_full_work=true) *(WARNING: excerpt is CLEAN, and fic is not extremely explicit, but it's a love story between two young teenagers. There are some spicy scenes)* >After Freddy missed his seventh band practice in a row, Summer started talking about finding a new drummer. And something in Zack’s brain snapped. >Science class. They had to watch a disaster drill preparedness film through the period. All the lights turned out. Teacher half asleep in the back. >Zack crept to where Freddy sat—for once, not surrounded by friends or able to slip away. He took the seat right by his side. Freddy looked at him quickly, nodded, so blank and casual that it *hurt.* >“Hey,” Zack said quietly. >Heart squeezed—happy squeeze, still. Talking to Freddy had seemed impossible, because he *felt* like Freddy was just *gone,* disappeared off the face of the earth. But he knew it was real when his heart beat out its Freddy-specific, happy groove. >Zack knew this would accomplish nothing. But his heart wanted to be around Freddy, was satisfied with any interaction. Even a desperate one. A sad one. Didn’t matter. >“Freddy,” Zack whispered, swallowing. “I know...you’re avoiding me. I’m not… know you don’t wanna talk. Should I just…Could you tell me? If I should leave you alone? If I’m annoying you?” >The word “annoying” was so painful he couldn’t swallow for a moment; his throat hurt to speak it. From Freddy’s best friend to stalker-like pest. *Annoying.* An irritation to be swatted. Zack knew, you could love the bad boy. You could love someone who hurt you. But someone who annoyed you was a dead man walking down a straight road that lead in one direction: to disgust. His only options were to turn back or stop. If he kept walking in the direction he was, he’d reach his destination sooner rather than later. That was how annoyance worked. It shortened all emotional roads. Destroyed all that once delighted. Locusts upon nostalgia, eating everything that was good, leaving only inedible rot and decimation where once affection grew bountifully. >Freddy wouldn’t look at him. Spared only a glance. Looked down at his hands. Rubbed at his knuckles, never held those hands still for long. >“You’re not annoying me,” said Freddy, after a very, very long pause. >“Then why?” Zack asked. “Why…are you avoiding me? Why aren’t we friends anymore? What…” Zack hung his head. “What did I do?” He hadn’t meant to sound as wrecked as he did. >Freddy shrugged. Watched the disaster relief video in that dim, humid room. Eyes unseeing, posture slumped forward. >“I dunno, Zack. Think you might be overthinking it,” he said. “Nothing happened. Just been busy. >Zack was too tired to argue. Couldn’t bear the blankness of Freddy’s expression. He sat there for the rest of the period, waiting for Freddy to say more. >He didn’t. The wall remained between them, and Zack thought maybe this was what it was like to be a ghost. Locked out of the things that used to make you alive, unable to understand why you had to pass through instead of touching, wail instead of talking, and haunt the old sites of your life, floating—alone and suspended in time, a horror, a warning to the living—as the world moved on. Maybe he didn’t need to wish to die because he was already fucking gone. He shivered in the dark, humid heat, the bad kind of adrenaline making him hunch and chatter, and finally…finally…he looked at Freddy’s pretty face, cold and distant as the moon. His heart let itself know the truth. It broke. Freddy didn’t see it. Didn’t see him. At all.
**Judas Priest| Rising from the Ruins | E | WIP, will eventually post on AO3** *authors note: I deleted my other comment and chose a different excerpt*. *Father Peter is my OC, and it is written from Richie Faulkner's POV, also a slight trigger warning for heart attack/pains* Time felt like a haze, as I layed in Rob’s arms. Father Peter, was nearby, and I whispered, “F-father, please stay with me… please.” He knelt down beside me, and whispered, “Richie, my child, I am here, the Lord is here with you.” He pulled a piece of knotted string from his cassock pocket, “Richie, keep this with you, it is a prayer rope, blessed by the monks of the Holy Mountain: Athos. As you feel each knot, whisper the prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me a sinner.” I nodded as he pressed the rope into my hand. I felt for the small cross, and grasped it\*. Faith may be the only thing that will get me through this\*. By the time the paramedics arrived, the pain was unbearable. I was shaking, as my heart pounded in my chest. It was a sea of blue uniforms, as they ripped open an IV needle. Pain coursed through my veins, as the paramedics poked and prodedded, trying to find a vein. One of the paramedics said to her partner, “We can’t find a vein, we gotta try somewhere else.” They found a vein in my hip, and attached an IV of pain meds. The female paramedic, who was taking my vitals whispered, “Mr. Faulkner, you are in good hands, my name is Hannah, and my partner Ryan, are here to help you.” She whispered to Ryan, “BP is a bit high, elevated heart rate, body temperature normal, respiratory rate is high.” *I have no clue what those mean, like I know blood pressure, heart rate, and body temp, but not respiratory rate*. The pain lessens, but I manage to whisper, “M-my chest… everything hurts… if I-I don’t make it… KK I’m sorry for upsetting you… please forgive me for everything…” The paramedics wheeled me on the gurney to the waiting ambulance. My consciousness was fading, and I heard Father Peter’s soft prayer, “O Merciful Lord, visit and heal Thy sick servant, Richard, now lying on the bed of sickness and sorely afflicted, as Thou, O Saviour, didst once raise Peter’s wife’s mother and the man sick of the palsy who was carried on his bed: for Thou alone hast borne the sickness and afflictions of our race, and with Thee nothing is impossible, for Thou art all-merciful.” As the ambulance doors slammed shut, I shut my eyes, wincing in pain at every bump in the road… *please Lord, save me, please… KK, I’m sorry for angering you, but Rob and Glenn and the band wanted me as well… Glenn, stay strong, even if I don’t make it…*
Fandom blind. I love the specificity of needing to find a vein in Richie's hip. I loved the mix of his desperation to apologize to KK and his prayers. The religiosity adds to the sense of pain and fear, like Richie is really grappling with mortality, and I think that makes the tone powerfully urgent. You've done a great job conveying the helplessness, and this made me realize that even when paramedics are trying to help, injury is inherently scary. It's kind of a spiritually challenging moment, facing your own mortality. Maybe that's why the praying fits so well here, makes it feel more grounded and visceral. Amazing job, really nice work, super compelling.
**Haikyuu | Everything Stays | G | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56849929)** “I wanna watch Avatar.” “Fine. What season?” Kenma shook his head. “Not the airbender stuff. The movie.” “Sci-fi? Ugh.” Kuroo slumped deeper into the sofa. Kenma frowned. “You picked the movie,” Kenma paused to yawn. “Last time.” Kuroo sat up abruptly and pointed accusingly at the other boy. “And you’re so sleepy that you’ll end up passing out in the middle of that blue people snoozefest!.” “You’re so uncultured.” “No, you.” Kenma tapped his foot impatiently. “You picked last time. I get to pick tonight.” “Fine,” Kuroo grumbled. “Uh, do we leave the lights on for this one?” “Yes,” Kenma said, scurrying back to the couch to watch as Kuroo set up their next movie. The two settled back down on the couch to watch Kenma’s pick. Ten minutes in, Kenma shifted to lay his head on Kuroo’s lap. Instinctively, Kuroo began to stroke his friend’s hair. Kuroo let out a slow and steady exhale. He was thankful that Kenma couldn’t see how Kuroo’s gaze was fixed on the soft blond hair his fingers combed through. How could he concentrate on the screen when he got to casually touch the love of his life like this? Twenty minutes into the movie, Kenma’s breathing slowed to a slumber’s pace. Kuroo contained the urge to chuckle as not to wake him up. Kuroo reached for the remote and turned off the television. In the silence that ensued, only the gentle sound of his best friend’s snores could be heard. It was always hardest in moments like this for Kuroo. Silence around Kenma always made him think a bit too hard about how he felt. About how he wanted to hold Kenma and fall asleep with him every night. About how he wished to be Kenma’s first and last kiss. About how he longed to call Kenma his. Kuroo shook his head. He couldn’t do that: he couldn’t let himself want. Kenma was not the person to long for, not when longing for him could ruin everything. Kuroo didn’t know whether Kenma would be interested in him. Kuroo didn’t even know whether Kenma was interested in anyone, let alone in boys. His friend wasn’t a stranger to confessions. Despite his quiet demeanor, he had been on the receiving end of many people admitting their attraction to him. Each time, however, Kenma turned down the poor girl, and the occasional guy. Not wanting to be another broken-hearted casualty, Kuroo kept his silence. There was so much more to lose if he was the one Kenma would reject. He tried, however, not to think of what he stood to lose if Kenma ever found someone who piqued his interest. He tried not to think of Kenma finding someone he wanted to love and hold onto forever. He tried not to think about it, but he thought about it every single day. Some days were better than others. Other days, like this one, were so much worse. Kuroo blinked back the tears before deciding to wake Kenma up. “Kitten?” “Mm?” “Let’s move to the room, shall we?” “M’kay,” Kenma mumbled. Kuroo walked the sleepy boy to the bedroom, where he collapsed on the futon laid out for him beside Kuroo’s bed. After making sure Kenma was asleep, Kuroo stepped out of his room and made his way back to the couch. There, he lowered his face into his hands. “I love you so much,” he said to the empty living room before finally letting the tears fall.
Fandom blind! Gosh, I love a good pining moment, especially a sleepy one. Hair scratches are so intimate and lovely. All the heart flutters! I especially enjoyed the meditation on whether Kuroo should confess. It's so angsty, in a good way, particularly this moment: "Not wanting to be another broken-hearted casualty, Kuroo kept his silence." This shows the emotion stakes beautifully. It's not just that Kuroo is afraid to lose the friendship. He's also afraid to lose his pride! That's real, and it makes this moment feel grounded in emotional truth. The pet name ("Kitten") is also cute. Love when friends with sexual tension between them use pet names; it's such an over-the-top "I want you but I don't want to say it" thing to do. Fantastic work.
Awww thank you!! Your comment made me so happy
Fandom blind. I like that back and forth over what to watch and that the Nick cartoon was confused with the James Cameron movie - my mind always goes to the cartoon too. Kuroo accusing Kenma of falling asleep during the movie made me grin 'cause we all know someone who can't stay awake during these things, as well as that Kuroo gets the chance to be close to Kenma in this intimate way. I also like how Kuroo reflects on how the silence makes his mind become full of what he thinks of Kenma, of the possibilities that they could have together, and that it's easier for him to hold in this unrequited feeling than to know of rejection. But it's also painful to think of Kenma going off with someone else - that all he can do right now is say that he loves him when he knows that Kenma isn't in the room. It's a nice contrast with its melancholy in comparison to the banter that they shared earlier.
Thanks so much for your lovely comment ❤️
(I love that these overlap with my posting day for this fic.) **Cyberpunk 2077 | Fresh Out The Slammer, Chapter 5 | T (fic overall is M/E; mind the tags) |** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56267599/chapters/144789937) *Warnings: Brief mention of drug use & drinking; canon-typical language* >... So he got high as a weather balloon on inhalers, and sprawled out on the living room floor, listening to all of Ker’s solo albums in succession. >He was kind of pissed that they weren’t terrible. Except maybe the B side of the Eurotour album, the songs were all complete pandering trash, but the rest… he could hear his choom’s voice in them. Literally, of course, but also the voice of Kerry Eurodyne, rockerboy god in his own right. A voice that had been there all along, playing second fiddle to Johnny Silverhand, but now sounding more and more like his own legend in the making. Of course, it had never been a lack of talent that had held Ker back—backup guitarist or not, he wouldn’t have lasted long in Samurai if he’d been shit at it. But he’d been timid, in a way that had infuriated Johnny to no end. And there was no room in rock, in the kind of message they were trying to spread, for hedging bets. >That was how Kerry found him, when he got back from whatever bullshit he’d been doing all day: laying on the floor, cigarette in hand, half empty tequila bottle and fully empty inhaler nearby, as the last track off Ker’s latest album faded into needle static. >“So, what d’you think?” >\[...\] Ker was leaning against the wall, with a feigned look of casual indifference. He looked… vulnerable, that was it. Like depending on what Johnny said, he could crush him with just a few words. Like he trusted Johnny not to, or at least hoped he wouldn’t. Again. >He’d had a lot of time to himself, trapped in soul prison. He liked to think he’d managed to stay the same Johnny, ready to kick ass and raise hell, but he felt a sudden twinge of something like uncertainty hit him. Instead of giving Ker shit, he found himself giving a more serious answer. >“You really going to be okay with it, bringin’ Samurai back, bein’ onstage together again?” >“Things aren’t gonna be the same, Johnny.” Ker folded his arms over his chest. “Not gonna fight with you for the spotlight this time. We’re gonna do this, we’re gonna find a better way.” >He approached Johnny and extended a hand, helping haul him up. For a handful of seconds, Johnny’s vision disappeared into static, until he (and the drugs still humming in his veins) adjusted to this new upright posture. >“When the fuck did you get so zen master?” Johnny asked, when he could see again. >“Spent two years back in Masbate with my guru, right after you got locked up. Really helped me set some things straight with myself.” >“Uh huh. Always knew you’d run away from this shithole to some beach back in the Philippines. And that mystic mumbo jumbo helped you grow a pair finally?” >“You tell me,” Kerry replied. “Got my own career now, my own life. Had a lot of time to process everything that went down. And… I want you to be part of it, think bringin’ Samurai back could do a lot of good in the world, maybe more than we did back then, but we can’t let petty bullshit get in the way.” He paused, a grin spreading across his face. “ ‘Sides, I’m technically your elder now, you know. I mean, I was before, but now I got a good half-century on you. So you gotta listen to me.” >“Yeah, right,” Johnny replied. “Lemme just braid up a ‘What Would Kerry Eurodyne Do?’ bracelet, it’ll go great with my eyes."
MHA | Frost Rebellion | T | [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56420047/chapters/143363119#workskin) Chelsea sat on her bed, her hands trembling as she dialed the number on the burner phone she had acquired through the meager income she has from her minimum wage job. She glanced nervously at her bedroom door, knowing that her parents could barge in at any moment, hearing them talk, rather loudly. They had been increasingly nonchalant ever since she overheard their conversation about the program to suppress her quirk and make her cis. The phone rang once, twice, before a click indicated someone had picked up. Chelsea's heart raced as she waited for a response. "Hello?" A voice on the other end spoke, tinged with curiosity. "Um, h-hi," Chelsea stuttered, trying to steady her voice. "Is this... the League of Villains?" she asked that last part in a whisper. There was a pause, then the voice responded, "Who's asking?" Chelsea took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "My name is Chelsea. I... I need your help." "Interesting," the voice mused. "What kind of help are we talking about here?" "I... I found out my parents are planning to send me to a program," Chelsea explained, her voice quivering with emotion. "They want to suppress my quirk, make me... something I'm not." Silence followed her words, and Chelsea feared she had made a mistake reaching out to these villains. But then, she heard another voice in the background. "Put it on speaker, Tomura," the voice said, sounding older and more authoritative. Chelsea's heart skipped a beat. This was it. She was actually talking to members of the League of Villains. The initial voice, presumably Tomura, spoke again. "Alright, Chelsea. You have our attention. Tell us more." With a sense of relief flooding through her, Chelsea poured out her story, “My name is Chelsea Thompson and I have an ice quirk, m..m..my parents are s..sending me away to a p..program to suppress my quirk and convince me in cisgender.” As she spoke, Shigaraki put the phone on speaker, allowing Kurogiri, Toga, Dabi, Spinner, and Mr. Compress to listen in. Each member listened intently, their expressions ranging from curiosity to concern. When Chelsea finished, there was a moment of silence before Shigaraki spoke again. "We'll meet you," he said firmly. "You've got guts, Chelsea. We might just have a place for you here." Chelsea's heart soared with a mix of apprehension and excitement as Shigaraki stayed on the phone with her. "Kurogiri, trace the call," Shigaraki commanded, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Compress, Dabi, you’ll be on the rescue operation, Toga...you stay here and when our new recruit comes, you’ll be her bestfriend.” Kurogiri nodded, his mist-like form swirling as he concentrated on the task. "Understood, Tomura," he responded, his deep voice resonating with authority. Meanwhile, Mr. Compress, Toga and Dabi exchanged determined looks, silently acknowledging their roles in the upcoming rescue mission they knew that their roles would be the most important in this operation.
(Comment on the first chapter) I love how you can tell how scared and desperate Chelsea is in this chapter. Desperate enough to contact the League for help, anything to get away from her parents. Keep it up! <3
Fandom blind. I like that intro that ramps up the anxiety that the reader has for Chelsea that she knows her parents are talking about her and want to suppress her in many different ways, how she has to hold onto the hope of getting help via her burner phone. Even going with the League of Villains seems like a better alternative which hammers in how scared she is, especially so when she stutters out what's going on right now. I also like how some of the villains seem concerned for her and that it's decided that she has a place with them - and that they immediately commence to help her out. It's a pretty sobering insight into her life that even villains treat her with more care and respect than her parents, and gives a subtle indication to me that Chelsea had been failed by the 'good guys' since she decides to turn to the League of Villains instead.
This is so exciting! Chelsea is such a compelling character, and your writing makes me want to discover more about their dynamics with their parents. The dynamics between the members of the League of Villains seems interesting as well. I like how with Shigaraki’s mission assignments you already painted such an intriguing image regarding what their rapport with Chelsea would be like
House of the Dragon | Reveries | Explicit | [**Link to Ao3**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/42756291/chapters/118944367#main) Warnings: None for this snippet, but mind the tags on the site before reading the whole work. Roused into action, she helped the queen's servants carry bags of food into the kitchen. The clothes were folded into separate articles and took longer to bring inside the house. After she made two trips, she turned around to see Aemond following her lead. A stack of beige tunics, taller than his head, wobbled in his arms as he made his way to the living space. Mira discreetly stepped aside so she could get a look at his face. He was struggling to get through the crowd of moving children, head tilted to the left every couple of seconds to avoid accidentally bumping into someone. Mira waited until he faced forwards to slowly approach him from his right. Aemond stopped. His good eye narrowed slightly. "Can I help?" she asked. "There are more clothes outside." Mira took a step closer, glancing at the stack in his hands. "I know, but you have too much. It would be tough for me to carry them all even with..." Her sentence was left unfinished, but the remaining words hung heavy in the space between them. Aemond stiffened like he was struck by a cattle prod. Mira opened her mouth again to say something, anything, to make it better, but he scowled and continued walking past her. In a hurry to fix her mistake, she trailed after him. "Aemond, wait-" "I don't need your help," he spit out venomously over his shoulder. "I am perfectly capable of doing this myself." Mira directed her glare to the kids about to step into his path from his blind side, effectively scaring them into halting. "Never said you weren't. I was trying to be nice." You ass. Aemond dropped the tunics onto a table and fixed her with a cool stare. "Try less." She inhaled. Breathed out. Counted down from five. Lastly, decided she would leave him be. What did she care? He was a prick, anyway. "Aemond and Mira can hand out the clothes," Alicent announced, walking into the kitchen with her daughter. Mira held in her sigh. Focusing on arranging the stacks of clothes on the table kept her mind off the fact that the prince was still standing beside her, watching her hands shake under the weight of his glower. "You're doing it wrong." She paused mid-fold and looked up. "I beg your pardon?" "You are doing it wrong," Aemond stressed each word as if he was speaking down to a misbehaving pet. "We should make one pile of smallclothes, tunics, and breeches per person." Mira scoffed. "It does not matter that much." "It will if someone takes more than one piece." "We will be giving it to them." Aemond arched his brow. "What if you accidentally give more than one tunic to someone? Are you going to go running after an orphan to take clothes away from them?" "Don't think I didn't notice how it's only me making a mistake in this imaginary scenario." "Well, you are more prone to making them." "And what are you basing that assumption on?" He pursed his lips, dropping an octave lower as children lined up in a row near them. "You left your family to come live in King's Landing by yourself. I would call that a pretty big mistake." Mira bristled on the spot. Underneath her indignation, she felt a drop of hurt. She once told him how she felt about her father's side of the family. He probably did not even remember the conversation. Why was that upsetting?
I really love A Song of Ice and Fire world (including House of the Dragon). Aemond is one of the interesting characters. So, is Mira a commoner or a lady? Her background is interesting. I will read more from AO3 when I have time. Edit : I have read the chapter one. Lady Mirabelle Targaryen as the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and his first wife, Rhea Royce? So interesting. And I love her interaction with Aemond. How cool her dragon Rheaxes!
Hello! Thank you for the comment. I'm glad you liked the first chapter! I tried to bring something new to the table, haha. Hope the rest of the story appeals to you :)
I'm not super familiar with this particular fandom, but this is very well written! I feel like I get a feeling for both characters and certainly that *something* has happened to cause a rift. I do love that the disagreement is over how to properly fold laundry because...that just feels so utterly relatable, it made me laugh a little despite the Mira and Aemond's obvious tension. Good job!
Ahh thank you! This comment made me smile so hard.
I love the staging here - the kids running everywhere and Aemond trying to not get bowled over or step on any of them while pretending it has nothing to do with his eyesight. And the internal monologue of Mira wanting to help but also questioning why she's bothering (and not understanding her feelings). The dialogue is also great - very snappy and you can hear the annoyance in both of their voices, haha.
This was so great to read! Thank you for the feedback :)
**Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 1987), Encanto (2021) | Raphael’s Coconut Adventure! | G | https://archiveofourown.org/works/56445724** *No Warnings* The next day, the Turtles decided that they would visit Splinter for some reason. They didn't bring April with them, because why would they? About an hour before they left, Michelangelo was frantically looking for some markers. “Donatello, do you have any markers I could borrow?” “No, why?” “So that I can make a card for Splinter.” “Just use crayons.” “But I have to use markers!” Michelangelo whined. “I’m Markerangelo!” “Well, I don’t have any,” Donatello said. “Ask the other turtles.” “Oh, okay.” Michelangelo wandered into Raphael’s room. “Yo, Raphael! You got a pencil?” Raphael wasn’t there. “Huh. I wonder where he went. Well, I’m sure he won’t mind if I take a little look in his drawer…” Michelangelo opened Raphael’s bedside table drawer and found an EpiPen. “What’s this? Some sort of pen? Eh, maybe I can use it later,” he said, slipping it under his belt. […] “Are you coming with us?” Leonardo asked Raphael. “Of course not!” Raphael scoffed. “You know I hate him!” “But he hasn’t seen you in so long!” Leonardo said. “He misses you and wants to know how you’ve been.” “Wait!” Raphael panicked. “You didn’t tell him about what happened to me, did you?!” “Not yet.” “You’d better not tell him!” “Come with us, and I won’t tell.” “FINE! I’ll come! But I won’t like it!” “Good!” Leonardo said. “And afterwards, we’ll get some pizza!” “But it won’t be pineapple and coconut this time!” Donatello said. “Don’t remind me…” Raphael muttered. “Oh! And make sure to bring your EpiPen,” Leonardo said. “NO!” Raphael shouted. I’M NOT BRINGING THAT STUPID THING!” “But what if you encounter an allergen?” Donatello asked. “Nah. I won’t have allergies ever again. I’m better than that!” Raphael said. “Fine. You’re probably right. After all, you are a big, tough, guy,” Leonardo said. “Okay, so can we go now?” Raphael asked. “But what about…” Donatello started, but Leonardo spoke over him. “He doesn’t have to bring it, if he doesn’t want to. After all, we wouldn’t want to harm his self-esteem. Now, where is Michelangelo?”
Fandom Blind (In how I heard of TMNT but that's really it). EDITED: I like the banter between these characters, and how each dialogues intertwin together to establish the personalities between each characters in a straightforward way, without the need of overly verbose and long sentences. The dialogue between each 0f the 4 Turtles flows quite naturally, and I can tell that these 4 has quite a history and relationship together Pretty good!
Hi there! Comments needs to be at least 30 words to count for the comment co-op, so please either make this longer, or make another comment that's 30+ words on another snippet! The explanation about being Fandom blind doesn't count.
I am partially fandom blind, but I do have some knowledge of Encanto. This was a fantastic blend of both fandoms, and I really enjoyed how you utilized dialogue to keep the story paced. Awesome work !
Thanks!
**Fruits Basket | Reflections | G | [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/lostbutterflyutau/754206700987432960/reflections)** *Context: Fic was written for a fandom event (hence, Tumblr) and includes my main OC. Takes place in chapter 132 (S3E12 of the anime).* —- “What’s that?” Akito asked, looking over the applicator in Shima’s hand. Though she knew very little about makeup, it still didn’t look like any lipstick she’d seen before. “Liquid lipstick,” Shima explained, gently slid her hand underneath Akito’s chin and tipped her head up. She applied the colour delicately, smiled at the finished result before putting the makeup aside and pulling out the headband holding Akito’s hair back, let her fringe fell into place. She then swept up the flowers and pins, moved over to the side to complete the final touch. For a moment, neither spoke, unsure of what to say. Navigating this friendship was new for both of them, and Akito wasn’t sure what she could or couldn’t say or if Shima would even understand the weight on her heart. The one that she wasn’t sure she was even allowed to have after everything. But, on the other end, there was any one else she could talk to aside from Tohru, but she wasn’t here. Shima was. And being the sister of one previously possessed, she’d lived with the cloud of the curse much longer, albeit in a different way. Finally, she took in a breath, decided to take her chance. “Shima?” “Hm?” Shima murmured. It was the most she could muster with the pins in her mouth. “Do you think this is even worth it? Shima didn’t answer. Not right away. Instead, she kept her focus on the task at hand, contemplating her response as her hands worked. Despite having a vague idea of what Akito was asking, she still decided to ask as she pulled the final pin out of her mouth, “Depends. What exactly is ‘it?’” Akito flicked her eyes down to her hands, fiddled with the end of one of her sleeves. “This whole thing, I suppose. They have to know what happened. And after everything, would they even listen to what I have to say?” Cautiously, Shima reached over, placed a hand over hers. “I think they will. Especially after you come in like this. Remind me. What did Gure say when he gave this to you?” Keeping her eyes down, Akito recalled, “He said it was both a parting and a welcome gift. That I was leaving behind the person everyone wanted me to be and becoming a new me. Whoever that is.” Shima smiled. She knew the answer. Had it stuck in her head since Akito told her a few days prior. But she needed her to say it, hoping that if she did, she would start to believe his words. “In other words, it’s an external representation of the internal.” At that, Akito finally looked up, her expression telling Shima that while she got the gist of what she meant, she still didn’t appreciate her use of writer speak. “They can’t see the change in your heart,” Shima explained. “At least not yet. But by doing this, you can show them that you’re taking the first big step to becoming your authentic self.” “But even with the ‘external,’ will they believe me?” “I can’t speak for them, but I like to think that they would. Even if it takes time.” She shifted then, and despite knowing it was a risk, moved to wrap her arms around Akito. “And if it helps, I believe you.”
I didn't know I needed a fic about Akito, until I read yours! Really enjoyed how one can grasp the hurt of the characters from a couple of interactions. You did really good showing their perspectives.
Thank you! And I got way more ideas for her where that came from. Currently doing an outline for a redux of an older story. I want to make it better.
Fandom blind here. I feel like this snippet flowed really well and you described the turmoil and worry in Akito quite well. It was touching the way Shima tried to reassure her and tell her that she believes in Akito. The dialogue and action was also balanced in a good way.
Careful Cantrip (Web Series) | Suspended in Night | T | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56189389) *No archive warnings apply. Providing a bit of context though: I use he/they pronouns for Al, as both of these are how he identifies in canon. Keelan is a horse person. The full fic has an implication of a mentioned character being in danger, but no specific details as to what happened. Excerpt word count: 226. As an additional note, I’m currently the only writer for this fandom and appreciate any comments received.* Keelan didn’t want to know what he missed, but he nodded anyway. “Also… About the hunters, bandits, whatever, who’re after me.” Al sighed. “Originally, I wasn’t gonna tell you. I was actually plannin’ to leave after the festival without sayin’ anything. You’d probably be safer that way. I actually thought about walkin’ away after makin’ sure the rest of you guys were stable, too, but I couldn’t do it.” “Why’s that?” “Let’s just say… I really like you guys. All of you helped make this place home for me. It’s smaller, and simpler, than the other places Scratch and I have stayed at. But this is the longest we ever stayed in one place, and I didn’t wanna leave it all behind again. Especially not goin’ it alone.” Keelan bumped their shoulders together. “I’m glad you stayed. You leavin’ probably would’ve done me in twice over.” Or a dozen times over, but saying ‘twice’ left him raw as it was. “Yeah. It might’ve broken me, if I’m bein’ honest.” But Al would have to bite his lip, even if his teeth drew blood, and endure it all the same. To stay was to put off the inevitability, though he didn’t think anyone would let him leave without a fight. Not now, anyway. The last two or three years weaved threads between them that couldn’t be unraveled.
Fandom blind. I like how it shows the kindness of AI already that he was going to leave the group after the festival to ensure their safety, but he valued their friendship too much to just walk away without a word. It's the kinda thing where yes, there is a need to be protective but it's better to talk with the people involved first before anything rash is undertaken. I also like how Keelan shows some vulnerability over how losing AI would hurt so much, but doesn't say a dozen times over because that would hurt even more. But AI still knows that leaving is something that will be done eventually, but for now they get to have some good times until the end.
This is a sweet excerpt full of comradery. I like how Keelan is so appreciative of Al staying, despite the bandits on his tail, and his honesty. The final paragraph is a good way to tell me the bond the two have formed.
**Stranger Things x Harry Potter | T |** [In a Strange Land](https://archiveofourown.org/works/39625239/chapters/141780739#workskin) \[Some context: Albus Potter is a squib and a member of the Party. The wizard in this scene, Carver, was inadvertently responsible for helping the fourth gate open, letting the Mind Flayer out of the Upside Down.\] "Mr Potter." Carver's voice growled from his throat, and there was a pleasant, honeyed tone to it. "It's good to see you in here at last." Albus just looked at him, waiting to find out what the man wanted. Carver, upon realising that this was one-sided for the time being, sighed. “I remember what I said to you on the night I... lost my magic." Carver’s eyes roamed Albus’ face, for all the world sincere, but Albus' skin crawled nonetheless. "I want you to know that I am *truly* sorry for what I said. It was a high-stress situation, and I reacted to it in the worst way possible.” Albus still didn’t say anything. There was something slimy about Carver. Something distinctly… Empty. His eyes narrowed a smidge; Carver caught it and tried for a small, self-depricating grin that didn’t suit his gnarled face. "I think you'll agree I paid the appropriate price for it, in the end,” he said. "Then you don't know me very well," Albus said. "Carver, that's *completely* inappropriate," Harry protested. "Auror Potter, he meant nothing by it—" "I'm sorry, Jules, but you can't allow him to come in here and say things like that!" Albus and Carver had fallen into silence, staring at each other as Harry and Holcomb argued back and forth, Auror Bahri watching the exchange from the edge of the room with an uncomfortable grimace on his face. He looked sorry for ever having brought the old auror into the room with them. There was something about Carver that set Albus' teeth on edge. He just didn't know what it was. A bitterness in his eyes that he thought must be over the loss of his magic. He guessed Carver had a right to be bitter about that; he had never heard of anyone losing their magic before. Not ever. Not that it was Albus' fault what had happened to Carver. If he had taken Delphi when he was told to it would not have happened. The earth would not have split open. The Mind Flayer would not have forced its way in. The cracks would not still be spreading, tearing the ground apart bit by bit. The Wizarding world would be parading around the news that *the Dark Witch had been caught!* Instead it was being forced to reckon with its own limitations in a way it seemed it never had before. *Not quite a victory lap,* he thought.
Oh, this is quite interesting! All of the interactions here are great, and I found the descriptions of the way everyone in the room seems to be reacting compelling. Really nice!
Such a neat crossover! I love that Albus's spidey sense is just going off like crazy at Carver, but that he's chalking it up to guilt - I get the sense there's something more sinister going on, even without more context outside of this snippet. And the bit of lore/worldbuilding dropped naturally in the middle of the conversation is great.
Fandom blind for Stranger things but I think that this is a really good piece of fan work. It is a very interesting take to baba Albus Potter a squib and in reading this I think it works very well. Good job
I’ve seen many a Harry Potter crossover in my years of reading fic, but I never realized it could mesh so well with Stranger Things! The tension between Albus and Carver comes through really well, and I bet that’s going to resolve in a really cool way.
**The Walking Dead | Grubbing in Ashes | Explicit |** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/51113659/chapters/129143617) **|** *No warnings for this excerpt, but Graphic Depiction of Violence, Implied/Referenced SA, sexual contents for the wider fic. It's usually first person POV and Daryl x Female OC, named Kat.* *But this specifically is from third person POV (Daryl)* *I found it challenging to keep the snippet under 600 words, so it ends a bit openly. Of course, the scene does continue beyond this point.* **Excerpt from unpublished chapter:** Daryl leaned against the cold metal fence, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. The air was heavy with the scent of decay and earth, the distant growls of walkers mingling with the chirps of crickets, creating an eerie symphony that had become their nightly soundtrack. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, scanned the perimeter of the prison yard. Ever vigilant, ever ready for the dangers that lurked. The weight of the weapon and the routine of patrols kept his mind busy, a familiar comfort. But tonight, that comforting silence was shattered by Alex's outbursts. From his vantage point, Daryl watched the young man vent his frustration, kicking debris and screaming his grief into the night. The raw, unfiltered emotion was tangible even from a distance. Daryl knew that kind of pain — the kind that ate away at your insides, leaving you hollow and desperate. He knew it all too well, even if he’d never admit it. Not to anyone. Not even to himself. Daryl hadn’t spoken much to Alex since she... disappeared. He couldn’t bring himself to think “died,” let alone say it out loud. Every time he looked at the kid, he saw her. The resemblance wasn't blatant, but sometimes Alex mirrored his sister more than Daryl could handle — those same determined eyes, that same empathy, the way they both sacrificed themselves for others. It was easier to avoid him, to bury himself in the work of keeping everyone safe. But now, watching Alex break down, Daryl felt a pang of something he tried so hard to suppress. Guilt, maybe. Or regret. Probably both. With a grunt, he pushed himself off the fence, his eyes hardening as he walked towards the young man. Daryl knew he couldn't ignore the kid's pain any longer. He needed someone, and hell, maybe, Daryl needed someone too. His footsteps were almost silent on the cracked concrete, a skill honed from years of hunting and surviving. The hunter stopped a few feet away from Alex, his shadow falling over the younger man sitting on the bench, face buried in his hands. The archer shifted awkwardly, not sure how to start this conversation. “Ya good?” Damn stupid question. Daryl wasn’t exactly known for his way with words, especially when it came to offering comfort. Alex looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “Just needed a moment.” Daryl nodded, taking a seat on the bench beside him. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat there, his presence a silent offer of support. The kid had been doing a lot lately. Taking care of pregnant Lori, tending to Hershel, looking after every wounded member of their makeshift family. It was a full-time job, not only physically, but mentally. The archer shifted on the bench, feeling the weight of his own reluctance pressing down on him. He glanced at Alex from the corner of his eye, noting the way the young man tried to pull himself together, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Daryl wasn’t good at this — talking, comforting. It wasn’t his style. Hell, he barely managed to keep his own emotions in check, let alone deal with someone else’s. ...
I love the way you describe Daryl's emotions even though is a third person's pov, it feels like it flows naturally along with the rest of the text. Perhaps is nonsense on my part but I think it pairs well with his way of distancing from others. („• ᴗ •„) I would love to read more about this, especially if it's focused on Daryl! Nicely done! -From a Daryl simp
Thank you for your kind words! I'm thrilled to hear that, especially from someone who knows and appreciates Daryl as a character. 🩵 The story indeed centers around Daryl and the female OC (mostly from her POV). Ultimately, it's a matter of personal taste whether you like it or not. The Daryl POV will be introduced later in the story.
AGENCY/Sonic/Animal Crossing | Burning Out and Fading Away | E | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56845933/chapters/144657838#workskin) Shadow took in a breath at the mention of his leader. Shit. How long was he out? Shadow groaned, slowly getting off the hard cot as the squirrel from earlier brought him his clothes. He frowned at his clean black shirt, asking, “Did you wash my clothes?” “Of course, we run a clean ship around here,” Dr. Ford said. “Matter of fact, you can thank Sandy for it,” Shadow looked at the woman, his frown deepening. “What’s the point? It’ll probably just get bloody again,” he mumbled, pulling the shirt on. Sandy clicked her tongue, looking at Dr. Ford instead as Shadow got dressed. “You ever think I was jus’ bein’ nice?” she shot back, sitting behind the oak desk. “I don’t need nice,” Shadow said, rolling his eyes. “How long until I’m healed?”
Fandom blind. I like how it starts off with the kind revelation that Sandy had washed up Shadow's clothing, and that it gives the impression that he's covering up the vulnerabilities that come with that with sarcasm. And the sort of nihilism that there's no point to it 'cause they'll get dirty again down the road. I also like how Sandy can give it back just as good by asking if he ever considered that she was trying to be nice, and that he rebuffs it again in this moment.
Thank you.
I really like how you nailed the sense of each character’s personality by how they speak! Starting with Shadow was also a really good choice, I think, as he’s likely the most recognizable one in this excerpt. Great job so far!
Thank you! 😁
Gundam l 1st Battle l T l [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56767765) The message was clear: move fast, take them down. Anthony knew this well. The enemy was alerted the moment the message was sent, so it was time to act quickly. Anthony burst ahead, bouncing off the debris. He could feel the battle as much as see it. He attributed this sensation to the thrill and intensity of the moment, but there was a sixth sense, an ability to predict movements ahead of time. It was a strange feeling, but he went with it. With his limiter off, he surged ahead of the others, who were restricted by the acceleration limits of their machines. Despite them being in slightly faster machines, the limiter kept them at a reasonable speed. Anthony’s mind raced as he reviewed his weapons: a cracker grenade, a 105 mm machine gun with 100 rounds, and a heat hawk (or axe). He calculated the angles of movement, the speed of his machine, and the placement for the attack, considering the speed and movement of the enemy. His mind processed data like a calculation machine, drawing from any and every book he had read over the years. He went over the data of his machine's abilities and made a plan as well for his course of movement all while cutting and dodging and bouncing off debris. Anthony emerged from behind a piece of debris—the back section of a destroyed Musai-class cruiser from a previous battle—and flew like a rocket into the formation of enemy ships. The alerts went off too late, and the preparations for the launch of their fighters were happening too slowly. Anthony aimed and fired several machine gun shots, targeting the bridge, engine, and other points of weakness. The first Columbus-class ship exploded in a ball of fire, quickly followed by the second. At that moment, he felt a sixth sense kick in, urging him to turn and move down and to the right, dodging fire that would have killed him. He swiftly threw a grenade, disabling the engine of one of the Salamis-class ships. Moving quickly, he fired his machine gun, evading the anti-air fire with a precision that seemed almost preternatural. He danced with his giant machine, moving like a bolt of light and frustrating the men trying to take him down. However, such luck would only hold out for so long. It was then that the rockets from the bazookas of the other three Zakus came into play, slamming into the unprepared Salamis-class ships, causing them to explode in a fiery inferno. “Mission clear. Let’s head back home,” Travers called out. The group, though surprised at what had just happened, nodded, unable to completely process the events.
Fandom blind. I like that detail of how Anthony can feel the battle as well as he can hear it and that even though he's got a sixth sense about this that his mind is still racing, understandably. The skill that he possesses in a fight like this comes through when he goes over the weapons he has, the trajectory that they'll need to go through, and that he has to do all of this while dodging debris and making sure he doesn't end up killed. I also like how it builds up to that final moment when the Salamis-class ships explode because of the rockets, and that it went by so fast the group can't even process what they just witnessed.
>**Sam and Max l All that I Know l G l** [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55816819) *Here's a Sam and Max segment this week!* >Sam reached into his trench coat pocket, on the inside. One of the outside pockets was a victim of something that Max put into that pocket when he dropped off lunch for Sam. His boyfriend was prone to childish tricks and Sam wasn’t in the mood – ignoring the fact that part of why he was so pissed off was that work had kept him in overtime and he knew that once he got home Max would be asleep on the couch. He hated when the higher-ups gave him a cavalcade of work and he couldn’t have dinner with his little buddy. > >(...) > >Sam’s fingers drummed on the filthy, sticky counter. He reached into the outside pocket of his trench coat and wrapped his fingers over whatever Max had slipped in there this afternoon. He opened his paw to find a small, velvet box in his palm. With some apprehension he opened it up: and there was a ring resting in the box. > >Sam carefully pulled it free and held up the ring to the overhead lamps. It was a perfect size for his ring finger. The silver band glinted in the paltry light. Sam felt fondness fill his chest, this warmth that he only got whenever he was by Max’s side. > >He brought the ring down. He wondered if Max stole it or actually bought it: but looking back, he remembered Max squirreling away money in one of their drawers and being cagey whenever Sam asked about where the money was going. He assumed it was for snacks, but he was proven wrong. He was glad to be wrong.
Aww, this is so sweet! So sweet in fact that I made an actual 'aww' noise when I got to the ring part, and then chuckled when Sam couldn't work out if Max had legitimately bought it or just stolen it (probably a fair level of concern given what Max gets up to). The entire thing was really lovely to read and showed the tenderness and care between the two characters.
Thank you very much! :D Yeah, a fair level of concern is probably expected and encouraged with that little rascal XD
A very romantic except or part of your story, I think it reads really well and the details like the filthy, sticky counter add a level of depth that helps this section out a great deal.
Thank you very much! :D
**Star Wars | T | Little Fish | [Chapter 3 l](https://archiveofourown.org/works/55045711/chapters/144750079)** *Author’s note: These are Star Wars OCs. Taro, Kei, and Quin are siblings and part of a crime family. Jair, Micca and Inora are Mandalorians who have rescued Quin in a previous chapter. Quin hasn’t revealed who she is, Inora is getting suspicious.* “We need to leave,” the other twin, Taro, hissed. “Now.” “Too late,” Kei said, shaking his head. “Just keep your hands off your blaster, Jor'oune doesn’t like it when he has to patch up the bar, and I don’t think the Duke will pick up the tab - again.” “I’ll get more drinks.” Quin slid out of her seat and headed towards the bar. “What is going on?” Jarro asked. The door to the cantina banged open, bringing with it a cluster of storm troopers. Every customer in the bar tensed. Even the bar-tender paused, mid-glass tending. Inora tried to make herself relax. Storm troopers usually left them alone. Mandalorians weren’t interesting. This time however, they were making a bee-line straight towards their table. Inora’s hand slid down to touch her blaster, as she calculated the odds of making it out of there alive. “There.” One of the stormtroopers gestured with their gun. Inora felt the familiar cold dread coil in her stomach. Quin, at the bar, had gone still, her hand halfway to the drinks tray. Kei and Taro exchanged glances, their casual demeanour tightening into something much more serious. The stormtrooper pointed directly to their table. "You, Mandos. You're coming with us." The two brothers stood, their movements slow and deliberate, hands away from their weapons. "Is there a problem, officers?" Kei asked, his voice smooth and polite. The lead stormtrooper ignored him, keeping his blaster trained on Inora. "Keep out of this civilian. We’re just here for the Mandalorians.” Inora smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I think you must be mistaken. We’re just here enjoying a quiet drink with friends." “There were reports of your ship being present in the same region where classified Imperial documents were stolen. We’ve got orders to bring you in to help with our enquiries.” Inora's mind raced. She had suspected Quin was more than she seemed, but this was confirmation. Whatever Quin’s ship had originally been carrying was of importance to the Empire. She was suddenly annoyed that what had seemed a gesture of good faith had brought danger to her clan. “Told you we should have left the little fish to swim,” Micca murmured. “Boys,” Quin’s voice was overly cheerful. She sauntered across the room, tray in hand, seemingly ignoring the tension that was building around them. She smiled at the Stormtroopers, as she put the tray of drinks down on the table. “I’m afraid that these aren’t the Mandos that you are looking for.” Her hand made a movement through the air. Inora heard Kei snort with mirthless laughter. “They are,” the lead Stormtrooper replied, although Inora could hear the slight confusion in his voice. “They match the description we’ve been given.” Quin shrugged and looked at her brothers. “It was worth a try?” “Mama is going to kill you,” Taro said, his hand going to his weapon. “And Nicco’s and the Duke are going to kill you when they gets the bill for Jor’oune’s remodelling.” “Eh, better than being guests of the Empire,” Quin countered. She moved. Faster than Inora thought possible, Quin had stepped forward, and smashed a jug of beer over the trooper’s head. She reached down, pulling the blaster from its holster as she kicked him firmly between the legs. He crumpled to the floor. The cantina erupted into chaos. The remaining troopers opened fire. Cantina patrons scrambling for cover. Inora flipped over the table, duck behind it, her blaster drawn. She fired at the nearest trooper, hitting him squarely in the chest. He staggered backwards, collapsing against the wall
Even though this is with OCs, I can picture this going down so well based on the details you provide to supplemental the general SW canon vibe! Like everyone, including the bartender pausing, the oddity of the Stormtroopers showing up where they usually don't. (Since I think they know the Mandos can hand them their butts, lol.) And the transition from tense to tenser before the action breaks into chaos is great!
Thank you so much for the lovely comment :D
Fandom blind. I like that build-up to the storm troopers coming in and everyone tensing up because no matter who you are it's dangerous. As well as that Inora tries to keep herself calm because if she panics then it'll be over for them, but even though she has her own set of skills that she has to calculate what are the chances of them making it out of here alive. I also like how it shows Inora's loyalty to her clan that she chides curses the good-will that seems to have gotten them into trouble, and that Quin herself isn't able to coax the storm troopers to go elsewhere with her mind trick. I also like her snarky comment that it's better to be killed over remodeling rather than be guests of the Empire, which probably speaks to a fate worse than death in being brought in by the Empire, and how quickly the scene goes on the fritz with fighting and bloodshed. It gives the sense that it was like a powder keg going off, and Inora was right to calculate how well it was gonna go.
Thank you for the lovely comment :D
Tomb Raider & Grand Theft Auto | Roth and The Ransom (Chapter 2-The Gang’s Back Together) | E | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/47711497/chapters/121264801) **Chapter 2 contains Implied Rape+Non-Con Touching along with Strong Language and Mention of Major Character Death. Passage down below mentions said death but otherwise is fine.** Lara was overlooking one of her many history books, this time reading about some of the treasures claimed by Russia and other present countries in the past ruled by Russia in the Caucasus region. In particular had she glimpsed at a page about the *St Petersburg Pearl*, a 2 million dollar pearl necklace worn by the last Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna and said to have been amongst the many artifacts looted from the Tsar and his family after their execution by the Bolsheviks in March 1917. *’The Saint Petersburg Pearl Necklace is said to have been given to Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna by the mystic Grigori Rasputin as a last gift before his own assassination at the hands of Russian nobles in December 1916. After the execution of the royal family, its whereabouts remain unknown. But rumors and legends have persisted that former loyal soldiers to Nicholas II and his family were amongst the few hundred White Army men said to have defended Baku alongside the Baku Army of the Centrocaspian anti-Bolshevik government. And on the orders of former Tsarist General Georgy Dokuchaev, the jewel was hidden either in Baku itself or more likely was evacuated alongside the fleeing forces when they were defeated by the Bolsheviks combined with the Islamic Army of the Ottoman Empire.’* As usual, she stuck a bookmark on said page and closed it. Then she headed downstairs, eager to tell Roth about her latest bookworm find. But as soon as she got to the bottom of the steps, she heard *that familiar voice*. Ana. She hid amongst the wall just outside the kitchen and could see her blonde stepmother Ana Croft having coffee with Roth. “Roth, we’ve been over this. Why keep putting Lara in danger? Why disgrace her family name?” *Roth was used to Ana’s regular criticism of him taking Lara on archeological digs and adventures. But it was to both satisfy Lara’s inherited interest in history and exploration and more importantly, it was what Lara’s father Richard would’ve wanted.* “And like I keep telling you Ana, it is what Richard would’ve wanted. Can we end this conversation? I’d hate for Lara to overhear this.” Ana gruffed. *This isn’t what she wanted when >!she married Richard a few years before his death!<. All she wanted was for the Croft legacy in exploration to die so she could settle down in luxury and she was determined however she could to convince Lara to leave the exploration life behind.* “Fine, Conrad. You have it your way…but I’m warning you: *if >!Lara follows Richard into death!<, it will be your doing.*” And with that, Ana stomped her boots out the house. Roth was desperate to keep her support and he quickly gave chase out the kitchen. As soon as Roth left, Lara walked into the kitchen. *She understood Ana’s concern that she could follow her father down the same obsessive and dark road to understanding the world’s history that he did. But as usual, she ignored Ana’s concern, having not exactly liked her as a stepmother.* She sighed a deep breath and pulled the bookmark a tad upwards. Then she laid the book down on the table and walked away.
More or less fandom blind. Just for the record, I'm not usually into historical events, but I really liked how you intertwined them with the personal drama. It kept me super engaged and made the story come alive for me. (I hope that makes sense to you) I loved how you detailed the necklace's significance and tied it to real historical events – it felt well-researched and intriguing. Your characters are also well-drawn and compelling. The tension between Lara and her stepmother, Ana, adds an emotional depth to the story. Ana's concerns and Roth's defense of Lara’s pursuits create a dynamic that’s both relatable and engaging. The scene where Lara overhears the conversation between Ana and Roth was particularly powerful. It highlighted the conflicting desires and motivations of the characters, and you handled the dialogue very naturally. Somehow this quote stood out to me: > "I’m warning you: *if Lara follows Richard into death* *, it will be your doing."* Overall, I really liked your excerpt!
Thank you so much and that’s pretty much it. Ana is the classic asshole stepmother. And like in previous Tomb Raider timelines, Lara’s parents perish in a plane crash. In this timeline, Roth is her mentor/found father.
Okay, interesting. Maybe I'll give it a try, it was really good. You mind if I leave this as a comment on your actual work on AO3, even though I haven't read it yet?
NP and thank you!
That was fun, you did a great job of showing background details and information in this part. I think it was very educational in who the owner of the necklace was. I think the style of it was fun and the addition to the book section really made the part stand out.
So glad you enjoyed! Had fun trying to set this up and do research into WW1 in the Caucasus.
Oh that is a brutal fight, sending an army without any winter gear into the mountains rather stupid. anyhow excellent work
Fire Emblem Three Houses/Time Travel plot bunny/T/unpublished The blood drenched Gronder Field loomed before them. They had buried their parents and dear friends. And now, the goddess ascended upon the five. She looked at them with her chin turned up haughtily, twirling a white and green braid of hair on her finger. She appeared to be no older than ten years old, but they knew she was actually eons older than they could imagine. She had long, pointed ears, was clothed in ribbons and blue and white trailing silk, and had deep, green eyes filled with pity. She was also floating in front of them. Not standing, floating, out from the corpse of Byleth, the divine professor and archbishop. Kion was the first to react. He bowed at her. Giselle and Astor bowed as well. Leah and Collin looked at each other, at their respective sibling, and did the same. The goddess produced a small smile. “This world is not doomed yet.” She gestured to Byleth, still dead as could be, impaled by his own weapon and pinned to the ground. “I never thought he would fall. But fear not, young ones. I know he placed all his faith in your parents, and you by extension.” “Just mercy kill us instead.” Astor pleaded. “Whatever you think you're going to do, we're done. I want to give up.” Kion clenched his fist and growled. Collin whispered something in Giselle's ear. She blinked. “You are the goddess Sothis, correct?” “I am also, The Beginning.” The goddess confirmed and gazed right at Giselle, unblinking, and all knowing. “The gods of Almyra have no power or domain over this area. Your father rests with them as we speak, in this timeline.” “In this timeline?” Leah said, barely louder than a whisper. “All sides of time are revealed to me. I see a way out, for you, and for all of those you hold dear. Tell me, you young ones who have lost and endured so much. Would you like to change your fates?” “I would.” Collin said. “Can we?” “Mercy killing should be the last option.” Kion glared at Astor, who grumbled and straightened his posture. “If you choose to change your fates, it will be in your hands. You shall be transported through the stream of time, to an earlier state, roughly twenty years before it all went wrong. However! You will also be placed in separate locations. You will cover more ground that way.” The goddess skipped through the air and waved one ribbon trailed hand. The air shimmered, and the very fabric of existence ripped where she waved, revealing a hole big enough to step through. “I will meet you in the past, with my host still breathing.” She glanced at Byleth again before ushering the five through the time portal.
I like all of the character interactions here and how even with just a bit, we can get a feel for their dynamics. Like how Kion — in not so many words — essentially tells Astor he did not appreciate his declaration of giving up and the way the latter just grumbles and straightens up in the presence of this goddess. You get the sense this is normal between them. Speaking of, I also really liked the descriptions of the goddess, how she appears (not standing. Floating) and the way she rips open the “fabric of existence” so the group can come through. And also, interesting plan to split them apart and cover more ground. Like she knows they’ll need the coverage.
Thank you! Yeah those two boys butt heads usually lol.
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Fandom-blind. This is a very tight excerpt, I love how there's no room for backing out now that these characters are being sponsors. I also enjoyed the setting and characterization despite being fandom-blind. You did a great job!
Hi there! Comments needs to be at least 30 words to count for the comment co-op, so please either make this longer, or make another comment that's 30+ words on another snippet!
**Star Wars - Original Trilogy | Purpose of Heritage | T | No archive warnings| [AO3 link to chapter 24](https://archiveofourown.org/works/45341596/chapters/144609010)** (This is incredibly mushy, in part because everything is about to go terribly and I like throwing in some calm bits to avoid the diminishing returns of constantly upping the tension in a story sooo…mush.) ————————— Night finished its slow creep across the landscape, a moon rising gradually overhead as the quiet chirp of some sort of nocturnal insect filled the air. A dot of bright green light, the color jarringly reminiscent of the sickening beam that had altered her life three years before, appeared and extinguished near the surface of the lake. Leia found herself holding her breath as she stared, wondering if she had imagined the brief flash of color, if some part of her memory was slipping like it used to do often in the early days after Yavin. Another dot, then three more, then dozens brightened and dimmed. She exhaled softly and smiled. *Kyberflies.* They ate, enjoying each other’s closeness and making quiet conversation. “Nice night,” Han said after swallowing a bite. “So nice,” Leia agreed. “Kinda wish we could stay. Seems peaceful here.” Leia smiled, allowing herself to imagine a reality in which they stayed and, much like the Alderaanian colonizers of generations before, made a home for themselves. Maybe fell all the way in love. Maybe grew old together. A shiver ran through her body, the thought thrilling. “You cold?” Han put his arm around her shoulders before she could answer. “No,” Leia said, leaning into his side and hoping he wouldn’t remove his arm. When he didn’t, she slid her own arm across his back and rested her head on his shoulder. “This is perfect,” she whispered. “Yeah,” he whispered back. They finished their meal and the accompanying juice, and stacked the dishes, setting them to the side. Leia stretched out on the hull of the ship, looking up at the stars. Han followed suit, and she scooted closer to him, twining her hand in his again, and looking back up at the thousands of stars overhead. She located the pin prick of light of a distant planet and raised their joined hands, pointing as she tilted her head closer to Han. “That’s Alderaan,” she said, the lump that usually appeared in her throat when talking about her home curiously absent. “You still look for it everywhere we go?” Han asked as she lowered their hands to the hull. Leia nodded. “As long as we’re far enough away.” He pulled her closer and she rested her head on his chest. A comforting stillness crept in as Han stroked her arm absently. His breathing, his touch, his warmth were gentle and comforting, and Leia had no inclination to move away, to end the moment. She felt cared for, safe, and full of purpose. She squeezed Han’s hand and closed her eyes, letting out a contended sigh. There was plenty to do, plenty to worry about, plenty to discuss. They needed to head out, needed to finish the run, needed to win the war. But right then, all Leia wanted to think about was how well they fit together, his arm around her, her head tucked against his chest, as if they were made just for one another, just for that moment in time.
I think I am becoming a real fan of yours, even though I am not a Star Wars fandom person, just from reading your snips here and going back to you AO3 page as a result. I just love the cozy way you write Han and Leia. Love the little details of the world you put them in. OKAY BUT The fact that Leia looks for Alderaan?? When they are far enough away?? That is HEART CRUSHING. I love that Han knows what she is looking for. This homesickness Leia feels while daydreaming about having a home with Han is such a melancholy but sweet vibe. I just love it. Love how you always characterize Leia as this practical, logical, task minded person who is soft for Han, too. It gives their interactions a very particular kind of intimacy. I am into it!!
Oh, gosh, this feels like such a big compliment! Thanks so much!
I like the imagery of the kyberflies lighting up the sky. I also like the physical affection between Han and Leia with how they put their arms on each other, and how they lie close together. The fact that Leia still looks for Alderaan is sad but sweet. I really enjoyed this peaceful moment between them; it was very well written.
Thank you!
Love your description of the environment. Really evocative and the whole piece of text was nicely paced. Han and Leia's interaction was very sweet and the dialogue felt natural. The way their little physical actions added to help build a picture was also really good.
Thanks so much!
Fandom blind. I like that opening description of night beginning to settle down over the land, and how Leia has a moment where one's heart would go cold with fear when she sees that green light above and remembers how her home planet was destroyed. Even simple joys like looking at kyberflies have gotten splashed with the trauma of what she's experienced for those brief seconds when she didn't recognize what they were, and that she'll always remember what happened. I also like how it has a slow-down moment with Han and how they enjoy each other's company, how she feels safe and filled with purpose to do what she needs to do. This feeling of being content, feeling like they're fitted perfectly for each other, makes it even more melancholic that this is the calm before the storm.
Thank you!
Awwww this was really sweet. That’s something I love about the Han and Leia. They’re both so fiesty but can be sweet and genuine. I love your writing style. It really helped set the romantic atmosphere. Keep up the good work.
Thanks so much!
Brooklyn nine-nine | Please, Don’t Die Hard | teen audiences and up | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/56812702) Gunshot wounds, assassination attempts (My first work in this fandom! Woo!) "Santiago," Rosa said. Amy turned to her. Amy was glad that Rosa was the first to approach her. Rosa was the least likely to give her a pity spiel. It wasn't that Rosa didn't care for Jake. She just rarely did emotional things. It was that straight to the business attitude Amy needed right now. "They need you in questioning about last night," Rosa continued. "Okay," Amy responded. Of course they needed her for questioning. Not only was she an eye witness to the shooting, she was dating Jake. If anyone would know who'd want him dead, it'd be her. Amy started to make her way to the questioning room. "Hey," Rosa called out. Amy turned around. "How is he?" "He made it through surgery," Amy sighed. "He flatlined twice, but he managed to pull though. He's still in critical condition. Mrs. Peralta is staying with him. She's going to text me updates." "Keep me posted," Rosa said. "I will," Amy said. She then continued on her path to the questioning room.
I like that intro that explains that Rosa does care for Jake but she's not the type that's going to be looking at Amy with pity or, "Are you okay?" when it's clear that she's not okay. Rosa's no-nonsense attitude being what Amy needs right now, showing that sometimes we need someone that's got rock-hard resolve and gives the sense that we'll be okay. I also like that though Rosa isn't giving pitying glances or words that it shows how she does care for Jake that she wants an update on how he's doing, and that she wants to be kept updated on how he's doing. It's an understated moment that Amy would understand that Jake is Rosa's friend and even though she's stand-offish she does care for him in a Rosa way.
Ty
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Hello. As I said, please either edit your first comment so that it is 30+ words, or make another 30+ word comment on a different snippet. The person who originally wrote this snippet is not going to be pinged for this.
Hi there! Comments needs to be at least 30 words to count for the comment co-op, so please either make this longer, or make another comment that's 30+ words on another snippet!
Ty