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ARC readers wanted - Dark fantasy
I’m looking for a small number of ARC readers for my upcoming dark fantasy novel.
It’s a slowburn, character-driven story set in a guarded carnival that promises safety — and quietly decides what that safety costs. The focus is on atmosphere, power dynamics, and morally complicated characters rather than action-heavy plot.
Action absolutely does exist, but the main drive is on characters and their dynamics.
You might enjoy this if you like: Gothic or atmospheric fantasy Humor, without undercutting tension Character driven stories with no cliches Unsettling women / female antagonists Quiet dread over spectacle Found family with sharp edges
If you're interested, I can first send few chapters of my story, so you get the feel and style of it.
What I’m asking: Read an advance copy (digital)
Consider leaving an honest review on Goodreads and/or Amazon after release. (no obligation to review if it’s not your thing)
If you’re interested, please: Send me a comment or DM. Please like and reblog if possible.
Thank you for reading — and thank you for supporting indie authors. 🖤
Silent Heroes - ONE
DC Fanfic
ONE - The What If Masterlist
The couch was too small for two grown people, but they made it work — legs tangled awkwardly, the TV flickering in the background with some low-budget reality show neither of them were really watching.
Stephanie shifted, grimacing as her arm bumped the sling strapped to her shoulder.
Across from her, sprawled half-off the other side of the couch like he didn’t have a spine, Oakly snorted, eyes flickering away from the TV towards her with a grin threatening to break across his face.
"You fell off a fire escape, Brown," he said, dry as hell. "A fire escape. That's like... Gotham 101. What are you even doing out there?"
Steph stuck her tongue out at him and adjusted the pillow jammed under her elbow.
"Slipped," she said defensively, rolling her eyes. "It was raining. It was wet. Shut up."
Oakly grinned, sharp and easy, and then went right back to rambling, his voice loose, casual, the way it only ever got when he was at home.
"Anyway," he continued, tipping his head back against the cushion, "Mio tried to crawl into the laundry chute again. Fourth time this month. Leila practically begged me to fish him out before the fire department got involved — 'cause last time they made her fill out incident reports and she’s convinced they’re gonna put her on some CPS watchlist."
Stephanie laughed under her breath.
"You get him out?"
Oakly shrugged lazily.
"Bribed him with Oreos and the promise of learning how to pick locks."
Steph choked.
Oakly just smirked — that slow, easy smirk that usually meant I'm kidding and I'm not at the same time.
Stephanie leaned her head back against the couch, listening to him talk — about Leila’s stress, about Mio’s latest attempt at breaking the sound barrier on his skateboard, about the old neighbor upstairs who kept trying to leave "offerings" at Oakly’s door because she was convinced he was some kind of guardian spirit.
The sling dug into her shoulder — dull and aching — but she barely noticed.
Because somewhere between Oakly’s deadpan stories and the hum of the broken heater, a thought sneaked up on her:
He could have been something else.
Not just museum tours and babysitting rescues.
Oakly had been good at it — scary good. Fast, brutal, smart. The kind of fighter you didn’t see coming until he was already in your blindspot.
If he’d stayed, if he’d let himself be pulled deeper — he could’ve been one of Gotham’s best.
But he hadn’t.
He was here. Half-asleep, hair messy, laughing about a ten-year-old stuck in a laundry chute.
And Steph couldn’t tell if it made her heart ache or feel lighter.
Maybe both.
Oakly reached over, plucked the remote out of her good hand.
"When's Cass coming? Did she get tired of your ass yet?"
"Bite me," she said automatically, tossing a popcorn kernel at his forehead.
He caught it mid-air, smirking.
For a moment — just a moment — it was easy to forget that there was a whole other world outside this apartment.
A world that ate people alive.
Note:
We're just jumping right into it guys - buckle up
-.-- --- ..-
The Plot Against America - Part 2
"Creeping Dread" - By Yasunori Nishiki
Selfie with lava! 🔥 Our honeymoon is going great. Except tsa but they were really nice about it. Miss you guys 💐💞💋👀💍👰♀️💀🥂🍾🌋🔥
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 12/12 Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), spoiler/spoiler, background JBM, background Bahorel/his laughing mistress Characters: Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras (Les Misérables), Jean "Jehan" Prouvaire, Montparnasse (Les Misérables), Les Amis de l'ABC, Patron Minette (in the shortest appearance of their career) Additional Tags: Canon Era, non-canon compliant, Horror/Supernatural, evil creature is evil, Blood, Violence, i honestly have not mapped this out at all so if anything pops up i'll add it, and if you see something i really should have warned you about tell me and i'll add it, Angst, Rare Pairings, first fic, Am I Doing Tags Right, this is a scary story, it better be or i am missing the mark, evil creature is sexy, supernatural non-con, Creeping Dread, occasional epic run-on sentences used to hopefully excellent dramatic effect, i can't tag the pairings when half of them are plot points, patron-minette are the terrors that flap in the night, water/drowning, suicidal self sacrifice, necessary but horrible cliffhanger Summary:
His grandmére had spoken of such things, when he was a lad. But now it seemed that perhaps she’d not been trying to scare him for nothing, that perhaps she had known very well what she was speaking of. Perhaps he should have paid more attention. Because something was standing across the room from Grantaire, leaning too casually against the wall. Something that screamed “unnatural”, setting his nerves on edge, even in the middle of the busy cafe. Something that had followed him over and down the hill from the vineyard at Montmartre, and that something was watching him, with eyes that did not blink, not nearly as often as they ought. He refilled his glass, and hoped for his friends to arrive, soon.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN KIDS! Sharingvthis again for fulfillment of spooky needs you might have.
