#novel snippet

[kouraissant]

The Sun is dead and love is an unbearable thing (On Yudrein Aile & Grief)

(Above) KOURAISSANT / (Aeschylus: The Oresteia, Aeschylus & The Oresteia: Agamemnon, The Libation Bearers, The Eumenides, Anne Carson) / Things Haunt, Joshua Jennifer Espinoza / Chapter 514, Turning, 쿠유 / Morning in the Burned House, Margaret Atwood / The opposite of a haunting is something very lonely, heavensghost / A Rosario Castellanos Reader:  ‘Memorandum on Tlatelolco’, tr. Maureen Ahern / Sue Zhao / The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller / The Empress Yamato Hime, tr. Kenneth Rexroth / Spring and All, Cathy Park Hong / UNDER A STAR CALLED SUN / there is no absolution for the fallen, only the dying, p.d / Chapter 1, Turning, 쿠유 / Lesbos (From Ariel), Sylvia Plath

(Below) The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020), dir. Mike Flanagan / 6CHO1

[transcendragon]

Distress: From the universe of "Unintended Designs"

I’m ending the new years by sharing a snippet from my science fiction novel WIP. I originally wrote this as a prologue, but decided it interrupted the flow of the novel too much as the POV character isn’t important to the rest of the story. It’s still canon to this universe, though, and I thought I’d share for fun! Happy New Years! Distress Tiago Martinez got the distress signal at 0251 hours…

[jadiealissia]

🌿I am uploading my fantasy novel as an audiobook for free! :)🌿

Maybe you've seen my audiobook before but weren't sure if you could commit to listening to it yet, or maybe it's the first time you're hearing about it.

So here's a small snippet that you can easily listen to without any commitment (!!!), just to see if you like the vibe :)

It's a fantasy story about a young vampire making friends with a necromancer who teaches him to forage mushrooms and herbs. There's also a bit of mystery in it. You can find a better summary on my profile (pinned post) as well as the link to the audiobook :)

[book-snippets]

- Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett in his Discworld series

Like whatever it is water slides off of.

[patternwelded-quill]

Find the Word! Tag Game

Hello all, my find the word game! My words were sweet, warm, and died. @the-octic-scribe tagged me.

Since it's my birthday and I won't be around much, I'm not going to tag *specific* people, but instead, anyone who wants to do it can consider it an open invitation, or a birthday present to me to play, lol. Tag me if you do!

Words are: wild, horizon, admit.

My snippets from Irae. below:

Sweet:

“Well, looky here, boys. Seems we found ourselves a lonely little knife-ear out for an afternoon ride. How sweet,” the central man announced loudly, probably for her benefit. Stupid girl! Fell right into an obvious ambush like a fucking recruit. Her gaze flicked from bandit to bandit, critically studying each as the two flanking men walked in her direction. The center held a readied crossbow, the other two a blade each. What were they doing so far south? “Hey, boss, this one’s a cripple. I bet she can’t even see me from there,” the one on her left said, pointing his blade at her eyepatch. I’m only blind in one eye, you stupid fuck.

Warm:

Relarial shot him a side-eye and dropped herself into a chair at the nearest table. She must have dozed, because the next thing she knew a bowl of warm stew as well as a plate of cheese and bread were being placed before her. Restraining the instinct to lash out in surprise, she blinked a few times and calmed her breathing. "Sorry to startle you," Aelas said, stepping back. She blinked in surprise a couple more times at it being him. "'s fine," she mumbled.

Died:

"Too stupid to understand simple language, now? I'll be plain. No wonder your pathetic family died to beasts if you're the best of them. Or did you run and let them die to save your own skin?" He took a duelist's stance with his twin blades. Like a man on a practice field. Someone fighting for an imaginary score. Upset your opponent, win by points. Time seemed to slow down for Relarial. She saw the arrogance in his stance, the pomp of his many awards and adornments fashioned to the richly clothed and gold-trimmed cuirass. He wanted her angry. That was his mistake.

[fnmanning]

The Frost or The Bite

Stumbling upon a gorgeous naked stranger is one heck of a first meeting. Here's an excerpt from M/M paranormal romance The Frost or the Bite.

Jack has a major magical decision on his hands in the Frost or The Bite. Ewan’s pack is in trouble. Naturally, meeting each other will complicate things in about a million ways, but will it also lead to love? Maybe! (Okay, probably. I do write paranormal romance.) Today I’m sharing an excerpt from the novel. To set the scene, Jack is an indecisive wizard, torn between earth and ice magic. He’s…

[biscuitfeatures]

Novel snippet just dropped for the upcoming nano “not Twilight” fic 👀

He stared at her, his expression tender, his eyes full of meaning. Fiona felt her heart rushing. Was this it? Was this the moment that he would kiss her? But abruptly he looked away, leaning with his arms on the rail of the bridge, staring out across the glittering black water. A hot flush swept up through Fiona’s belly, spreading up her neck, her cheeks, until she realised she was about to cry. She turned on her heel, stood with her back to the perplexing, disheartening puzzle behind her. Blinking furiously to fight back the mounting swell and taking deep, measured breaths, she fought to keep her emotions in check.

“Sorry,” she said simply, not trusting her voice with more, still calling up words that might somehow shield her from the bitter swirl of heartache and embarrassment that told her she was a damn fool for letting herself believe this man felt any romantic inkling toward her.

Jace barked a short, ironic laugh. “What are you sorry for?”

Another deep breath. “I think I have misread the situation. I should probably head home now, anyway.”

There was a pause. “Misread the situation?”

If they had not moments ago been baring their souls to each other, Fiona was quite sure she would never have worked up the courage to elaborate. As much as she wanted to run, to forget about this whole hideous moment, she knew she could not simply walk away from Jace and the inexplicable bond that had grown between them. Nor could she live with never knowing what it all meant, in the end.

Drawing up what strength she could from the tumult of emotion raging inside her, she turned back to face him, willing her tears not to spill over. Her voice, however, betrayed her as it came out in a hoarse whisper.

“I thought maybe you liked me.”

A peculiar, pained expression crossed Jace’s features and he snapped his gaze back to the river before closing his eyes, breathing deeply as Fiona had done, hands gripping the wrought iron of the railing as though holding on for dear life.

“I care about you,” came the answer, at length, and he tilted his face to look at Fiona. She sucked in a breath, hit with the full force of his sorrow, inscribed in the features of his beautiful face. She wanted in that moment to reach out and tuck the stray hair behind his ear, caress his face, hold him close and tell him it didn’t matter - she could live with whatever he could offer her, even if it was just friendship. But she held still and waited, sensing that there was more.

[lovecraftiancicada]

Edit: THIS IS THE FIC THAT MADE ME THINK HE WAS AN OLD MAN 😭 (there's implied nsfw, but it's mostly comedy!)

[lucky-draws]

is this anything ...

[tales-of-wocdes]

loved the demo! mc seems fairly interested in grandpa sheo (for obv reasons) and since they just heard mc speak in that void, I could see mc just talking aloud to grandpa’s cloak or the air like the ancient could hear them

Thank you! And that is a rather adorable thought! Well adorable because of MC, not necessarily adorable considering Sheo. Might even end up in the demo as an option...

-----------------

You settle down for the night, and settle your cloak in front of you. You sit cross legged on your bed and stare at the cloak.

Then start talking. About your day. What you ate. The snacks you had. The things you didn't understand. What you and the twins played today. Odd things Lexia said. Things Havard taught you. What you liked and did not like.

You go through your day, from being woken up by Havard, to the evening being tucked in.

Then you go to bed, feeling better for having told Grandpa about your day.

----------------------------

Somewhere far away, a traveler listens to a child speak about their day. The traveler does not answer, he just listens. He could block out the sound but he has time. Even as he senses the fortress full of cultists and calmly walks towards it, he has time to listen. Even as the gate turns to dust and he calmly walks inside, he can hear the description of a game of hide and seek between children. His face never changes, but he is glad that the child turned thing by cruelty is allowed to be a child again.

Innocence after all is worth protecting. Or so the traveler thinks as cultists burn and scream around him, pleading for mercy that will never come.

[childrenofcain-if]

AS THE WREN SHEDS HER FEATHER (ELIAS’S POV AFTER SEEING YOU OFF TO UNIVERSITY)

one of the servants unlocked the door to the manor and elias stepped inside, the peculiar quietness pressing down on him like an unexpected weight. it was strange—to be met with silence when he expected his little apple to come bounding downstairs or to be already lounging in the living room to greet him. he thought he’d have an easier time getting used to it, but now? he wasn’t so sure.

elias handed his tailor-made suit jacket to another servant, glancing at the framed picture on one of the mantles near the fireplace: you, as a young kid, perched on his shoulders, a grin lighting up your face. your mother’s arm is looped around his, a laugh in her eyes so identical to yours as she holds onto the two of you.

he could remember the day that picture was taken, but it wasn’t enough—just memories which grow blurry each day. so he went to his study, where he kept the home videos. the cabinet was hidden behind a stack of old books, almost as though he’d been trying to bury it. but tonight, with you miles away at yale and his heart feeling like it was suddenly too big and too heavy for his chest, he wanted to see her. he wanted to see both of you.

after a few minutes of sorting through the SD cards, he found one simply labeled, “to be remembered.” he slid it into the player, and the screen flickered, a bit staticky, before the familiar image of the manor’s living room filled the screen.

the camera was shaky at first, moving around as your mother laughed, “elias, you’re terrible at this. here, let me…” her hand appeared in the frame, reaching for the camera.

“no way!” elias’s voice, younger and far more cheery, filled with laughter, protested from behind the camera. “i’m the cameraman. you, mijn liefje, are the star.”

“oh, so you just get to sit back and watch, huh?” she teased with a fond roll of her eyes.

the camera settled, a little less wobbly, as elias zoomed in on you, toddling around with your hands outstretched for balance, your whole face lit up with excitement. you must have been barely two, still unsteady on your feet, wobbling a little as you reached for her.

“come here, sweetheart,” she said, crouching down to your level, arms open. “you can do it, just a few more steps.”

elias chuckled as he watched her coax you forward, a surge of warmth flooding his chest. he remembered how her face would soften every time she looked at you, the way her eyes would light up. and then he saw it again—how she laughed when you finally tumbled forward into her arms, her joy bubbling over.

the tape lurched forward in fits and starts, as if elias had just recorded whatever seemed meaningful at the time without thinking about how it would piece together later. the screen shifted to a birthday, candles on a homemade cake—your fifth birthday. you were wearing a crown made of a long balloon that you’d insisted on, sitting cross-legged at the table, and there were flecks of icing smudged on your cheeks. your mother was holding the cake, careful to keep it level, beaming as she leaned toward you.

“go on, make a wish!” she encouraged.

you closed your eyes so tightly, putting your hands together with exaggerated seriousness, lips moving silently as if asking the universe for something only a child could imagine. then, with a deep breath, you blew out all the candles in one go. the room erupted in cheers—your mother, your father, your kindergarten classmates, even some of elias’s business partners they’d invited over that day.

“what’d you wish for, apple?” elias’s voice asked from behind the camera.

“i can’t tell you, dada, or it won’t come true,” you said, grinning, eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

the camera lingered on your face, the pure joy and belief shining in your eyes. elias could remember how the moment felt then, with both of you so young and so certain that everything good could be held together just by love and laughter. he felt a pang in his chest, a memory too nostalgic to hold without pain.

the video cut to the christmas morning of 2009—your mother was filming this time, narrating with a chuckle as she zoomed in on the chaos of ripped wrapping paper and new toys scattered across the floor.

“look at this mess! who do you think is going to clean all this up?” she asked, mockingly stern, zooming in on you hiding behind the couch.

“dada!” you’d shouted, giggling as you peeked out from your hiding spot.

“wow, selling me out, huh?” elias’s younger self chuckled as he leaned into the frame, pretending to growl and chasing you around as you giggle and try to run away from him.

the frame then jumps to another clip of you in the center of the frame, small and wide-eyed, your tiny hands busy, your concentration fixed on hanging ornaments on the lower half of the tree. you were talking to yourself in that way only small children do, a quiet monologue about which ornaments went where and how important it was that they were balanced just right.

“that’s the glittery one!” your mother’s voice came through, rich with warmth and humor. the camera wobbled slightly as she adjusted the focus, trying to capture your handiwork up close. “are you sure it should go there?”

“mama,” you said, in that exasperated tone only a preschooler could muster, “i know where it goes.”

“oh, i see,” she laughed, the sound a warm, gentle ripple through the screen. she shifted the camera to capture elias as he stepped in, feigning seriousness, hands on his hips.

“is the decorating committee open to suggestions?” he asked, crouching down to your level with a grin.

“no,” you replied without missing a beat, making him chuckle.

he then reached over, lifting you off the ground in one swift motion, swinging you in a wide circle. you shrieked with delight, half trying to wriggle free, half clinging to him.

in the background, your mother could be heard laughing too, her voice just as bright and full of love as your giggles. as he lowered you back down, she moved closer, still holding the camera as she leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek.

“who’s the little ornament expert now?” she murmured, voice so close, so impossibly tender. she kissed you on one cheek, and elias joined in, kissing you on the other, making you squirm between them, giggling with each kiss.

“stop, stop!” you squealed, caught between pushing them away and clinging to them. “you’re both squishing me!”

“we just can’t help it,” your mother said, a soft laugh trailing off as she kissed you again. “you’re so loved, my sweet baby, you know that?”

elias’s voice was quieter but equally warm as he added, “we love you so, so much, little apple. more than anything.”

he pressed another kiss to your cheek, lingering, his voice almost catching, as if he was holding onto the moment where he truly felt like he was the richest man on earth.

elias hit pause. the screen froze on her face—her smile bright, eyes crinkling at the edges. he swallowed hard, feeling the tears well up before he could stop them. the years had done nothing to soften the edges of her absence. the house still echoed with her laugh some days, in small ways that felt like nothing and everything. he let the tears fall, a quiet acceptance of how deeply he still missed her.

finally, he pressed play again, as if he couldn’t bear to stop watching. he watched you grow through that grainy screen: you with your first lost tooth, your first day at school, your proud insistence on making dinner—omelette burnt to a crisp that elias and your mother had eaten anyway, praising every bite.

and then the last video came, a quiet day at the beach. the camera showed you and your mother on the sand, the waves lapping at your feet. she held your hand as the wind whipped through her hair, her smile soft and quiet as she watched you point excitedly at the seagulls swooping overhead. she bent down, saying something to you that he couldn’t quite hear over the sound of the waves, but he remembered the feeling of that day, of everything feeling just right in that one moment, sun dipping below the horizon in a blaze of color.

he watched as the sun began to sink lower in the video, casting a warm orange glow across the sand. and then she looked back at the camera, at him, her gorgeous eyes meeting his through the lens.

“come here, darling,” she called, beckoning him with a smile.

the camera dropped slightly as he walked toward her, and for a moment, all that was visible on the screen was a blur of sky and sand. then he set the camera down in the sand, angled just so, and the three of you were together, laughing as you stood side by side, the waves lapping at your ankles, the horizon stretching endlessly behind you.

and then, just like that, the tape ran out, the screen going to static.

elias sat there in the silence, his chest tight, the memories pressing in on him, so beautiful and aching all at once. he hadn’t let himself revisit these moments in years, too afraid of what they’d stir up, but now the memories felt as vital as air. he could almost hear her voice, feel the weight of her hand on his shoulder, see the way her eyes had softened every time she looked at you both.

he leaned back in his chair, one hand covering his mouth as he closed his eyes, letting the repressed emotions wash over him. the tears spilled over, hot and unbidden, the kind that left him feeling vacant and full at the same time.

he never cried in front of you like this, too afraid that it’d break the fragile tape that held the dam of your devastation upright. but now, elias didn’t even try to wipe the tears away. he let himself feel it all, the bittersweet ache of love and loss, the memories that filled the empty spaces your mother had left behind.

the silence seemed different now though, less hollow, filled with echoes of laughter and whispers of promises he’d made, long ago, to keep always keep going—for you, and for her.

[ri-writes-if]

What if Oracle, in there dying breath was thanking RO for everything? Not mad. Just genuine happiness that they, and there friends loved them, and for the time they spent together.👀

It would break their heart even more. I can't put their reactions into a couple words in a way that won't feel repetitive, so I'll write a snippet for one character.

I wrote the last one with Vez, so I'm writing this one with Os!

Os cradles you in their arms, a rare lost look on their face. Pain spreads through your body like a fire that devours you from inside, piece by piece. You barely have any strength left, but you force yourself to speak. "I'm happy," you mutter, choking on the next breath. "Thank you. I have your love, and it's more than I could've asked for. So don't make such a face. I'll leave... happy." Your reach your hand up and trail your fingers over their cheek. As it falls, smudging their skin with blood, Os catches it and lifts it to kiss your palm, closing their eyes for a moment. "Don't thank me," they murmur, looking down at you with tears welling in their widened eyes. "We should've more time. I should've done more for you. This isn't how it's supposed to end..." It is. You always knew your story would end in tragedy. They were too blind to see it. Blindfolded by their love for you. Too drunk on the sweet illusion you spun to notice the darkness waiting ahead with the patience of a hunter. You're not scared anymore. You know you'll leave loved. It's all that matters to you. "It's just a pity I have to leave you heartbroken," you murmur. Your vision blurs and darkens, and you can't see their face anymore. "Don't leave then," they beg, their voice broken by the cry they stifle. "Stay. You've always been too stubborn to give up. Do it again, like you always do..." Silence is the only answer they get.

Thank you for the ask! 💛

[thewrothode-if]

So, about the romance in this game...

Since every option allows for it to be romantic if the romance variable has been triggered for the specific character, this makes it easy to start a romance you did not wish to. In order to combat this, I added two precautions.

First, you can choose which character you do not want to romance whatsoever. So for every choice you pick, it will never be romantic:

Second, you can choose to turn on visual indicators for romantic choices and avoid choosing them:

I hope this is enough, because I really want this way of romancing to work in the game. 😭

[book-snippets]

- American Gods, by Neil Gaiman

Shadow was bookish as a child, after all. I suppose this is what he uses his dormant knowledge for.

[dual-domination]

I present you Shen Wei X Tech things, Guardian Vol 3 Edition :v

A true disaster.

[dallasgallant]

“Where’d you get this car, huh?”

“It’s bucks.”

“—don’t dal!”

“I got it”

*Whips across traffic into DQ lot*

“What are you trying to kill us?!

“Hope you guys are in the mood for BBQ, what do you want?”

—

Love how Johnny and Pony both loving being in fast cars but Dally somehow finds a way to scare them both (when they’re actually going down a mountain - can understand.)

Also generally just love the movie having little details I catch something new every time, including dialogue