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valerieamanda09.bsky.social

🩰 COVER REVEAL 🩰

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June 24, 2025 at 10:03 PM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Jan 12

Oddly, many of Pan's games seem to involve upset feelings and skewered body parts.

#DarkRetellings #QueerWriters #WriteSky #AmWriting #Fantasy #Horror #LesFic
In a low voice, Pan muttered, "You broke my throne." The words stoked the fires of animosity within me. The words reverberated in my ears. In an explosion of pent-up anger, I screamed, "You broke my life!" I no longer had any control over my actions. With a surge of primal instinct, I lunged forward. My stolen cutlass became an instrument of vengeance as I mercilessly plunged it through Peter's gut. Pushing them back with all my might, the blade found its final resting place, pinning Pan helplessly against the unforgiving earthen back wall. I felt as if I should have been breathing heavily from the exertion, that I may have felt more satisfaction were I struggling for breath, yet I was denied that outlet to my excess anger. I wanted to gasp for air, to feel a pounding heart, yet my new body seemed incapable of such functions, a short, solitary breath the closest I came. All I could do was stand there watching Peter pinned to the wall, head hanging slack and lifeless, as they bled from the wound to their belly. The aroma of their blood permeated the air, but it was different, markedly distinct from Archie's. It possessed an inexplicable depth, layers I struggled to properly explain. I was just reaching out to the alluring puddle when Peter raised their head to me, a smile slowly spread across their face. It was an expression somehow both youthful and yet profoundly ancient. “What a magnificent sneak attack! First blood to you,” they exclaimed with seeming genuine admiration. Taking a few horrified steps away from them, I watched in shock as Peter, teeth clenched, pulled the blade from their own wounded abdomen with exaggerated slowness. The unremarkable cutlass had now taken on glistening crimson sheen with the addition of Peter’s blood, the edge shimmering in the candlelight. Taking hold of the hilt, Peter gave a couple half-speed swings. “If your heart desired a game of blades, dear Wendy, you only had to say so.”
January 12, 2025 at 2:24 PM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Dec 3

No witty commentary, sometimes situations just suck...

#DarkFantasy #QueerWriters #LGBTQFiction #DarkRetellings
“You shouldn’t be here, John,” I said, turning away to retreat into my small sitting room lest he decide to do something foolish, like attempt to embrace me. “You haven’t come around to meet Michael,” he said, and the name gave me pause for a moment, a sickening tightness in my chest, before I remembered learning through my spying that this was the name John had given his newborn son. My innocent, fragile baby nephew. I carried on into my parlour, replying, “You knew I wouldn’t, John. We’ve spoken of this.” “We didn’t, in point of fact,” my brother countered, “You simply declared it would be this way.” “It is for the best.” I said, settling onto one of the chairs. It was an uncomfortable thing upholstered in worn emerald fabric. My eyes fell on the knitting I’d left half-finished on the table, a colourful baby blanket. If I had expected John’s visit, I would have hidden the project, my plan having been to leave it anonymously at his front door when it was complete. “Wendy,” he said, using the name I had already abandoned, and I knew he was looking at the gift. I refused to meet his gaze. “You’re an aunt. I want you to come meet your nephew. He has your eyes.” I flinched at this, and he hastened to add, “How they used to look.” “It isn’t safe,” I said in a whisper. John sat down in the chair next to me, turning to face me. “You won’t hurt us…I trust you.” “I do not trust myself!” I said with a hiss, finally facing him again. My anger was a bolt of lightning, gone nearly as swiftly as it arrived, but it was enough to make John press himself against the back of his chair, to make his heart race in his chest. I knew he saw the Child Taker, the one who was the true source of our family’s torment, in the inhumanly iridescent sheen of my eyes, fierce and dangerous. I immediately felt a sense of shame for my outburst and quietly slid my chair further from him. This was why I could no longer be around my family.
December 3, 2024 at 2:07 PM
valerieamanda09.bsky.social
If you haven't heard through the grapevine. @authorgreerrivers
Is coming out with the second generation from The Tattered Curtain Series 🫶😏🎉🩷🖤🎀🦢

#GreerRivers #GreerRiversBooks #FrayedSatinSeries
#DarkRomance #DarkRetellings #RomanceBooks
#UnveilByGreerRivers #valerieamanda09 #romancebooks
June 15, 2025 at 12:53 AM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Jan 9

That feel when you get the munchies for the first time...

#QueerWriters #DarkFantasy #Horror #DarkRetellings #LGBTQWriters #AmWriting #WriteSky
We hadn’t gone far when I began to feel something. An almost painful yearning within me. My throat felt parched, my stomach groaned. It was almost akin to hunger, but it was so much greater than any hunger I had experienced in my life, something that seemed to centre itself in my newly patched heart. “Peter, I feel strange…something within me…I’m not sure how to describe it," I groaned, desperate for an explanation for the raw, almost throbbing ache within me. “Precisely on time,” they responded enigmatically, propelling themself forward at an even greater speed. It was all I could do to keep up. We arrived at the grove of the Roost as the sky began to lighten with approaching dawn, and all was quiet. I spied children sprawled in the hammocks and makeshift beds spread about, Lost Ones and regular visitors both, and all around us were the sounds of slumber. Coming off some of the children were a wash of scents, ones that I could scarcely name except that they made my mouth water, and I found myself drifting towards them until Pan grabbed my hand, urging me towards the base of the tree. Landing at the door, Pan held a finger to their lips, indicating for us to be silent, and we entered his home. All the while, that bone-deep hunger only grew.
January 9, 2025 at 5:59 PM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Jan 11

Wendy and John Darling, as their adult lives take drastically different paths, but no less tragic.
#QueerWriters #DarkRetellings #Fantasy #Horror #LesFic #WriteSky #WritingCommunity
Swallowing to regain his composure, my fragile mortal brother leaned forward, resting his elbows on his smart linen pants. “Sister, you must come meet my son.” “You know what he did to me, John. What he made me into,” I said softly, fully feeling the humiliation of existing as the being I now was. “I have told you what my existence entails. Why in God’s name would you want me around your infant?” “Please, dear sister, nothing can harm you, and you can no longer die yourself,” John had said. I wanted to argue the point but he kept speaking, a look of quiet resignation in his eyes as he reached for my hand, “You must promise me, I beg you. Should something happen to me, you must look after my family.” I scoffed. “You are a clerk, John. What do you expect could possibly happen to you?” That was how I learned he had volunteered for Kitchener’s Army. As many young men at the time had, John signed up with his mates from work. I responded in anger, calling him foolish. I told him that it was a mistake, that he should have focused on looking after his wife and child rather than colleagues. He left my flat after another feeble attempt to sway me, my cruel dismissal still in the air. I wish I could have known that it would be the last time I spoke to John before he was lost at the Somme. I was forced to offer my apologies, and the assurance that I would watch over his descendents, to the silent audience of his headstone.
January 11, 2025 at 5:39 PM
valerieamanda09.bsky.social
🦢Unveil by Greer Rivers, a Dark Swan Lake Retelling, Book 1 of the Frayed Satin series, a Tattered Curtain second generation legacy series reimagining classic ballets with dark and twisty HEAs.

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#DarkRetellings
#UnveilByGreerRivers #valerieamanda0
October 2, 2025 at 2:28 AM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Dec 28

Spoiler: It's not because she's too British to drink coffee...

Lucy's such a sweetheart...I hope nothing bad happens to her... *spooky fingers*

#QueerWriters #AmWriting #DarkRetellings #Horror #SapphicFiction #WriteSky
Text Snippet: “Um,” Lucy mumbled after an awkwardly silent moment, “Did you have a good night, Ms. Dale?” “Fine,” I replied. My response may have perhaps been overly curt, but I could not seem to find my footing around my niece. That only served to stifle my already limited social skills. Trying once again, I added softly, “Thank you for asking, Lucy.” Lucy offered me a small, almost sympathetic smile. Maybe she recognized how long it had been since I had socialized with another, or perhaps it was an introvert interpreting me as one of her own. Whatever the reason, she gave a start as the phone in her pocket buzzed. Quickly checking the screen, she looked up at Mona regretfully. “Crap, mom’s out front. I forgot we have to go to that family thing.” Mona nodded and moved out of the kitchen towards the front door. Lucy followed, then seemed to have second thoughts and leaned back in to say, “Thank you for letting me stay over, Ms. Dale.” I smiled what I hoped was a friendly smile, but remained silent. I turned away, trying to find some activity to putter with in the kitchen. I settled on some of the remaining dishes from the wake, trying not to allow my enhanced hearing to intrude too greatly while the girls said their farewells. Still, I could hear Lucy quietly asking if Mona was going to be all right which Mona responded in the affirmative. There was silence and then the front door closed. Quietly, Mona returned to the kitchen as I dried plates with a soft towel, moving to the mug of coffee she had been preparing for Lucy that had been left behind. She picked up the cup to take it to the sink, pausing briefly to look at me with a questioning expression. “I never touch the stuff,” I said. “Too British, huh?” Mona replied.
December 28, 2024 at 4:28 PM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
I was noodling last night on procreate and make this, which I kinda like. ^_^ It sort of gets across how creepy Peter Pan is in my story.
#QueerWriters #DarkFantasy #DarkRetellings #CharacterSketches #NonAIArt
A figure with wild, spiky hair sits or crouches on the ground amongst bushes completely in silhouette. The only thing visible is their eyes, which glow an inhuman yellow. Written on top of the image in scratchy, blocky letters is -PAN-
January 7, 2025 at 8:06 PM
valerieamanda09.bsky.social
🩷🦢 ARE YOU READY 🖤🦢
#GreerRivers #GreerRiversBooks #FrayedSatinSeries
#DarkRomance #DarkRetellings #RomanceBooks
#UnveilByGreerRivers #Romancebookstagram #valerieamanda09 #booksky
June 22, 2025 at 1:14 AM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Dec 31

Happy New Year's Eve, writer friends! I hope today is wonderful for you!

I did not sleep enough last night, but here's another snip! 😆 This takes place right before Wendy's fateful last last trip to Neverland as a human.

#DarkRetellings #Horror #QueerWriters #AmWriting #WriteSky
For nearly a month, we heard nothing, and I believed our times of adventure were truly finished, until that evening in June. I remember it was unexpectedly warm after weeks of dull, wet weather, and the air smelled like blooming orchids. My relations with Michael had been tense ever since Peter left, so I was surprised when he softly knocked on my door that evening, asking me to join him downstairs. There, I was shocked to find Peter, grinning brightly. “Peter! You’ve returned!” I exclaimed. Peter’s brow furrowed, as if there was ever any question of this happening. “Of course I have,” he said, seemingly forgotten about the vitriol he had spewed towards me when we last parted. “Have you come back for Michael?” I asked, hopeful for my brother. Peter tilted his head to the side, confusion etched on his face. In that instant, it became clear: he had forgotten my brother completely. My eyes drifted to Michael, who’s shoulders sagged slightly in disappointment and I felt a tight knot of pain in my chest. Peter followed my gaze, glancing at Michael before he broke into a wide grin. “Of course I have, haven’t I, Michael?” he said, and my brother’s brief disappointment was immediately forgotten as he returned Peter’s smile and nodded enthusiastically. I felt an impulse to be offended on my brother’s behalf but Peter then turned his attention back to me. He beamed with utmost excitement, bounding effortlessly around the room on long, leaping strides with an uncontained enthusiasm that was hard not to share. “But that’s not all,” he exclaimed, “Wendy, I have unlocked the answer to all our troubles." This was a surprise. His captivating golden eyes shimmered with enthusiasm, and what seemed to be a twinkle of hope. If possible, his intensity had reached new heights, making him seem more manic than usual.
December 31, 2024 at 1:36 PM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips 1/26

Went with vibes today, and the word 'horrible', from shortly after Gwen/Wendy is changed, then locked in a small room with her fiance as her first meal.
#QueerWriters #Horror #DarkRetellings #LGBTQWriters #WriteSky #AmWriting
I sat in that abominably tiny room, that cage, for a long time. Entombed in silence. There, I sat alone, my heart heavy with grief as Archie's lifeless form grew colder by the second. The minutes stretched into hours, and the feeble flames of the three tiny candles flickered and faded into oblivion. I thought the darkness would offer some sense of freedom, but the horrible, magnificently otherworldly eyes I now possessed still allowed me to see poor Archie in the gloom. A stray curl fell across his forehead. I longed to brush away, as I had done many times in the past, but it felt disrespectful to disturb him after murdering him. Time lost all meaning and I half imagined I would be entombed until decay or madness claimed me In this endless gloom, my mind wandered to my family. I thought of my mother, wondering what had become of us. I had a complicated relationship with my father and often had arguments with him in the past, but all I wanted at that time was the comfort of his embrace, his sturdy chest to cry upon. I thought of John, off at school and wanted to tell him how thankful I was he’d been spared this adventure. I wanted to grab Michael out from under Peter’s sway and go home and put Neverland behind us for good, never to even let thoughts of it pay us any mind once again. But I was unable to do any of that. Helplessly, I sat there, consumed by uncertainty, waiting for whatever lay ahead. I may have slept, the sequence of events has all become hazy with the passage of time, but I remember eventually startling at the sound of dirt shifting against dirt, and finally, the hidden door opened and there they stood. Pan, wearing a pair of heavily patched trousers that only reached their calves and a short-sleeved red tunic that appeared to be made from a combination of cotton fabric and leaves. They were so beautiful it made me ill. My first love and greatest tormentor.
January 26, 2025 at 2:57 PM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Jan 3

The first description of The Roost, Pan's home, as Wendy steps towards an unknown future...odd that her own brother is the only one not eager to see her.

#QueerWriters #DarkRetellings #Horror #WriteSky #AmWriting #LGBTQWriters
The Roost was built around an absolutely enormous banyan tree, larger I’m certain than any that existed in our world. Streamers and ropes in brilliant colours hung from its branches, holding up tents and all manners of hammocks for the children to rest in. Crude structures emerged from the nooks and crannies of its branches, some of which held weapons, others toys and games, and often the two were intermixed. In the grasses around it, children ran around with wild abandon. And at its base a path down was carved into the dirt, amongst the tree's roots, leading to a door beautifully etched with images from Peter’s adventures that led under the earth. As we emerged from the forest, Quill let out a triumphant crow, and all eyes fell on us. Time seemed to stretch, as if the universe had paused to witness our arrival, then all at once we were descended upon. All around me, I heard various names called. Mother, Wendylady, Wendybird, amongst others. Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, I struggled to orient myself. I had never received such a reaction in all my time in Neverland. I saw faces I recognized ― the round cheeks of Tootles, Petit’s shimmering green eyes―and those I didn’t. As the commotion threatened to drown me, a piercing high-pitched whistle rang out. The crowd parted, and there stood Peter, hands on his hips and pleased as punch. “You did take your time, didn’t you Wendy?” he called with an infectious brightness in his voice. “Looks as if we’ve gotten to you just in time.” “In time for what?” I asked softly. Peter was already striding towards me, shaking his head. “No, no, no, we have no time for stories yet. We have to solve your troubles now.” His words bewildered me, leaving me clueless about his intentions. Without the slightest idea what he was referring to I accepted it when he took my hand and led me towards the door to his home underneath the banyan tree. As we passed the children, I caught a glimpse of Michael amongst them, but he scarcely met my eye.
January 3, 2025 at 3:28 PM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Dec 4

Congrats on 3k followers!

Wendy with Peter. Content warning: this snip has blood.

#DarkFantasy #QueerWriters #DarkRetellings #LGBTQFiction
“Your situation vexed me greatly,” Peter said, shaking his head, “And I reacted poorly when you told me of it. But, I have found the answer!” Turning to face me, Peter smiled. Brow furrowed with confusion, I said, “So you said back in Michael’s room, Peter, but I still don’t understand. If you have the answer, what is the question I’m meant to have?” “Soon, dear Wendy, soon,” Peter said as he leaned in closer, his voice filled with a soothing tenderness. “First, we must get you flying once again. Please close your eyes.” “Close my eyes?” I asked, my confusion only growing. “Please,” Peter whispered, reaching out and brushing a lock of my dark hair behind my ear, golden eyes twinkling. “You must trust me.” Memories of my daring leap from the bedroom window flooded my mind. I thought of all the many times I had put my life in Peter’s hands only to emerge in triumph. I could do it once again. “I trust you, Peter,” I whispered back, and closed my eyes. Even as I plunged myself into darkness, I could sense Peter's presence drawing nearer. My heartbeat increased and the hairs on my arms stood on end. “Now please, Wendy. I need you to summon your most blissful feelings, your happiest of thoughts,” Peter said. I felt his warm breath against the shell of my ear, producing a shiver. “The pain will be over quickly.” An agony the likes of which I had never known, searing and inexplicable, erupted in the centre of my chest. My eyes flew open and I looked into the sympathetic gaze of Peter Pan, my first love, with his dagger buried between my ribs, piercing my heart. “What did…wha…” I rasped in ragged confusion, pawing at Peter. I can’t say for sure if I intended to push him away from me or hold him close but I failed on both counts as my arms fell limply to my side. Ever so gently, he lay me on the earthen floor of his room, kneeling beside me. His hand remained on the dagger in my chest. I tried to speak again but only managed to cough up bubbles of blood.
December 4, 2024 at 4:15 PM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Jan 18

A late submission for today. I went with a synonym: Separation, from when Gwen talks about how J.M. Barrie 'came up' with the story of Peter & Wendy.

Also, this is my girl, Bug. 😻
#QueerWriters #DarkRetellings #WriteSky #AmWriting
The story that most people know is fairly accurate, after a fashion. Mr. Barrie was a dear friend of my parents, and a cherished presence in our lives. A truly sweet man, his heart overflowed with innocence, as if he held on to a spark of the childlike wonder most adults lose with the inevitability of time. After Pan came to our window, and our first adventures to Neverland, we confided in Mr. Barrie all our tales of Peter, and Neverland, and the fearsome Captain Hook. We told him everything. But even with his open mind and tender heart, Mr. Barrie was still an adult, and never truly believed us about our experiences travelling to worlds. When retelling our tales for the world he took liberties where they appealed to his sensibilities as what you would now call a white, cisgender, heterosexual man raised in the nineteenth century. It remains somewhat bittersweet to this day, knowing that our stories were dismissed as simple fables we told one another in the low-light of our bedroom lamps. Children, with their boundless imagination, hold the key to worlds most adults have forgotten. What reason did Mr. Barrie have to believe us about Pan? The separation that time grants us has given me added clarity. I can’t really blame him for his scepticism. It just so happens some of the creatures children imagine also happen to exist. Even now, after more than a century of walking this earth, I’m certain I know only a small handful of the otherworldly beings that walk amongst us, the ones conventional wisdom would have you believe are pure fiction. In time, Mr. Barrie’s captivation with our stories translated to a stage play. The manner in which Mr. Barrie presented the story seemed to speak to audiences in a profound way, and it became wildly popular. And from that point, our facts became muddled with the fiction. A cute, cuddlely tabby cat
January 19, 2025 at 4:07 AM
thehauntedpulpit.bsky.social
Reclaiming dark fairy tales is how we survive.

My thesis for The Haunted Pulpit is live: Re-telling these stories breaks their original curses.

Featured reading list inside, including Rebel Folklore and Tales from the Hinterland. Come wander the woods.

#FolkHorror #Folklore #DarkRetellings #Books
The Original Folk Horror: Why Fairy Tales Are the Dark Retellings We Need
Hello, Pulpit faithful.
bit.ly
October 28, 2025 at 6:39 PM
alexfromawen.bsky.social
#WIPSnips Dec 27

This is probably longer than what constitutes a snip, it's practically an entire page, but I'm really proud of it, of setting up my MC's feelings about her life and her expectations for it when she first met Pan.
#QueerWriters #DarkRetellings #Horror #SapphicFiction #LGBTQWriters
Text Snippet 1/2 I always tried to be a responsible older sister, to look after my brothers. My father was a bank clerk and we were what could be considered middle-class. But even early in the twentieth century, with three young children and an expectation to better his station in society, financial struggles were an ever-present reality. Our parents hadn’t the money for a proper nanny, but we had a dog, a lovely great big Newfoundland dog whom we affectionately named Nana, to look after us. As I grew older, I did what I could to aid my parents and Nana in seeing to my younger brothers. I was two years older than John, and nearly six and a half years older than our younger brother Michael. I felt very mature, but at twelve-years-old, this mainly entailed the telling of enchanting tales to captivate their imagination, finding games for them to play, and ensuring they had their baths. I can’t recall where the idea for the boy in our window first came from; whether it was a tale my mother had recounted first when I was Michael’s age, or an impression sprinkled into one of my dreams, like faerie dust or a whisper on the spring breeze. But for weeks leading up to that fateful night, our games of make-believe had incorporated a mysterious flying boy. He was brave, and brash, and able to hold his own while battling with full grown men, particularly pirates. I created him, or so I believed, in part to offer my brothers a new tale of excitement and adventure. Text Snippet 2/2 But I’m certain I needed it for myself as well. Even at twelve, I was beginning to be aware of the limited expectations of growing up as a girl at that time. I had little to look forward to apart from a life similar to my mother’s. I would be expected to marry—hopefully to a kind man, but that surely was not a certainty—and have sons whom I could be proud of. It would be all about the men in my life, as I existed somewhere in the background. It would not have been a bad life, I suppose, but deep down I craved more. At twelve, I was still very much a child, and I refused to permit the circumstances of my birth to define me, to stifle my potential. Thus, I told tales of a mysterious flying boy, whom I called Peter after a neighbour’s child who was similar in age to Michael. Imagine our shock when one unseasonably warm May evening, after we had been sent to bed, someone claiming to be Peter arrived at our window. Real, vibrant and magically, fantastically alive. Michael believed, with all of a six-year-olds conviction, that he had single-handedly summoned this magical being as a belated birthday gift for himself. But he was gracious enough to say that the rest of us could play with him as well.
December 27, 2024 at 4:24 PM
lavampiresa.bsky.social
Check out the slides to see all of the tiers and rewards that have been unlocked!

You can find the link here, or a clickable links in @dawndarlingauthor and @rebeccagarciabooks bios. 

www.kickstarter.com/projects/the...

#kickstarter #thegirlwhodreamedinthorns #darkretellings #dawndarling
The Girl Who Dreamed in Thorns: A Dark Fairytale Romance
Deluxe Boxsets & Book Box of The Girl Who Dreamed in Thorns and The Boy Who Devoured the Stars, a Dark Fairytale Romance Complete Duet
www.kickstarter.com
May 1, 2026 at 3:47 PM