ShadeRaven & Evil_russian
Evil_russian
You ever notice how the real crime stories we fight over are the ones people ignore? Like the quiet corruption that builds a city’s skeleton—I’m itching to expose it, but maybe you’ve got a story idea that could frame it in a way only a novelist could. What’s your take?
ShadeRaven
I’d start with a character who’s literally invisible to the world—someone who cleans the city’s underground tunnels and sees the skeleton in the walls. They notice a pattern of missing bricks, a ledger in a rusted pipe, and a whispered rumor about the mayor’s “special projects.” The plot could weave their quiet investigations into the city’s hidden history, revealing how the corruption is literally built into the foundations. The twist? Every time they expose a piece, someone else covers it up, forcing the protagonist to decide whether the city’s bones are worth breaking or just another crime to ignore.
Evil_russian
Sounds wild, but we gotta keep that invisible cleaner real, not just a myth. Give him a backstory—maybe he was a kid who learned to sneak through vents, or he lost someone to the city’s corruption. That way when he sees those missing bricks he’s not just an observer, he’s a fighter. The mayor’s “special projects” should feel like the kind of rumor people would whisper after midnight, not something straight out of a textbook. Every time the protagonist pulls a piece out, someone else shoves it back—makes the city’s skeleton feel like a living monster that wants to stay hidden. And the ending? Let him be torn between tearing up the city’s bones and keeping the secret to avoid the real power. That moral choice will make readers sweat. Try that, and you’ll have a story that’s as gritty as it is thought‑provoking.
ShadeRaven
I like the idea of a kid who grew up slipping through vents to escape a neighborhood where the council always had a secret hand in the construction. He lost his sister to a building collapse that the city covered up, and since then he’s been the city’s ghost cleaner, the one who can hear the pipes whisper. The mayor’s “special projects” are the hushed lullabies whispered after midnight, each one a half‑truth about what really goes under the streets. Every time he lifts a missing brick, someone else forces it back, turning the skeleton into a living entity that wants to stay buried. Ending with him standing at the threshold of tearing the city apart or keeping its dark secret alive—that moral split is the thing that keeps readers on the edge. It’s gritty, it’s dark, and it feels like a real, unpolished crime waiting to be told.
Evil_russian
That’s the kind of raw edge that keeps people glued. Keep the kid’s vent‑running skill tight, like he’s built into the city, not just a plot device. Make the sister’s death feel like the spark that turns him into a ghost cleaner, not a trope. When he lifts a brick, the city’s skeleton shouldn’t just shove it back—make it feel alive, like a whisper that says, “Don’t stir me.” The midnight lullabies of the mayor should sound like half‑baked lies, so people get that vibe of “there’s something else going on.” And that split at the end—if he’s on the brink of tearing the city apart, he should hear that weight in his gut. Push that tension, keep the prose gritty but not too fancy, and you’ll have readers sweating over whether the city’s bones can be ripped out or buried forever. Good stuff.
ShadeRaven
Got it, I’ll keep the vent‑runs tight and the sister’s loss raw enough to light a fire. I’ll make the city’s bones hiss like a living wall and keep the mayor’s whispers smelling like half‑baked lies. That gut‑tingling split will be the knot that keeps readers on edge. Good plan.
Evil_russian
Sounds like you’re on the right track. Keep that rawness, let the city feel like a monster that’s just breathing in your story, and the readers won’t be able to look away. Go for it.