#novel snippets

[turning-dans-le-vide]

Chapter 899

The young hero of the empire suffers too much because of you. As the Emperor, as your brother, I can't help but feel ashamed and sorry. Don't embarrass me further, and from now on, just report back via letter. I hope this item will be of help to you and the Baron.

Keilusa sending Kishiar this strongly worded note is sending me

[pinchedlittlefox]

Rae never had a chance to have a family or a daughter, but...

Fate sets her upon a different path.

And here she is looking after a damaged five/six year old while she tries to keep Brendol's treachery at bay.

[ju-aaaaa]

Ch 1: The Thief's Predicament

◇◆》》》"Five years before the revival of the demon king, a hero shall be born. A hero with eyes as dark as night and hair the color of platinum. He shall be born of a virgin womb. He is blessed by the gods and adored by the angels. He shall deliver the world from peril and sacrifice his life for peace once more."《《《◆◇

This is Maria Dumarun, he steals for a living.

He knows it's wrong, but he does it anyway. And now, it seems, that life has finally come back to bite him in the ass.

As divine light envelops him, blurry figures take shape within it. Before long, ten beings clad in flowing robes and gleaming accessories stand before him—gods. They glance at him with thinly veiled disdain, exchanging looks of dissatisfaction.

What's going on? Maria wonders, his dread growing.

This was supposed to be a simple job, he thinks. Steal the relic hidden in one of the underground chambers of the church, hand it over to the gang, and be done with it.

It was a mission he had no choice but to accept after stealing from a local gang. Either retrieve the relic or kidnap a merchant's daughter. He chose the less bloody option.

But things went wrong.

He remembers the relic, how it dissolved in his hand. The moment it sank into his skin, everything around him shifted. The once musty, dark chamber—buried deep beneath the church with its crumbling stone walls and damp air—transformed in an instant. The oppressive gloom gave way to a vast, blinding plane of light. It stretched for who knows how far. And then, the gods appeared.

Now he stands under their piercing scrutiny.

"This human is to be the vessel for our boon?!" one god's voice booms, dripping with disapproval.

"The boon has already been absorbed into his body. There is no alternative now," another declares with a tone of resignation.

Maria's heart pounds in his chest. What kind of situation is this? What are they talking about? Should he run? That thought barely forms before every divine gaze locks onto him, freezing him in place.

"State your name, human," commands one god, their voice resonating with unquestionable authority.

"M-Maria Dumarun."

"Maria Dumarun," the voice thunders, "you shall carry our boon. You are now the virgin womb that will incubate the seed—the Hero. In time, you will bring forth the savior destined to deliver humanity from the terror of the Demon King. You will name him Cidian."

Maria blinks.

"What?" The word barely escapes his lips before another god, exasperated, cuts in.

"To put it plainly: you are pregnant with the Hero. You will give birth in nine months."

"What?!"

The color drains from Maria's face.

"Wait, wait, wait—you've got the wrong person! I don't want any part of this! What do you mean 'give birth'? I'm a man!"

"You are a virgin, are you not?" one god asks with unnerving calm.

"S-so what?" Maria stammers, crossing his arms defensively.

"Then the matter is settled," they declare with finality, their faces impassive.

"That doesn't explain anything!" Maria snaps, throwing his hands in the air, expression tainted with dread and irritation.

"If you are concerned about your bodily constitution, have no fear. The relic you absorbed is infused with magic. Your body will adapt to accommodate the growth of our boon within you."

Maria feels his blood freeze. His mind races, trying to grasp this impossible situation. Before he can fully process it, the gods continue.

"We will assign a guard to ensure the safety of both you and the hero. You will travel to—"

"That's ridiculous! The demon king has been defeated! The last hero sealed him away with the strongest artifact made from his blood. What terror are you talking about?"

The gods exchange glances again, clearly annoyed.

"You dare doubt the word of the gods, human?" one of them thunders. "The signs are upon you. Your body is already changing as we have willed. Feel for yourself, if you must."

A pit grows in Maria's stomach. Dread overcomes him as his hands shakily pat down his body. When his hand reaches his groin, it stops cold. There's... nothing.

His face pales.

"What the fuck?! Get it out! Turn me back!"

"Our boon is now entwined with your very soul and life force. Removing it would result in your death. And should you attempt to, know that you will invoke divine retribution beyond your understanding."

Maria stumbles, his mind spiraling. He is, quite literally, trapped.

"Now listen well," a god's voice cuts through his panic, cold and commanding. "Your current way of life—" they regard him with barely concealed disdain, "—is ill-suited for carrying the Hero. We know you have chosen the path of thievery," another god interrupts, "a disgraceful and foolish path," "—and you have embroiled yourself in dangerous affairs. We advise against continuing to serve the gang that hunts you. Continuing this will only bring your death."

Maria feels light-headed. His vision blurs as the gods step back, their figures becoming more distant.

"Journey to Lisokon. There, the Hero shall be born. Along the way, you must gather the other relics necessary for the Hero's birth. Without them, you will not survive the labor. This journey will be a great trial, one you and your guardian must endure together."

A booming voice suddenly echoes across the plane.

"He is to carry your boon?! This filthy human?!"

Maria jolts upright, offended. "Hey, I'm not filthy!"

A red wolf, massive and terrifying, steps out from behind the gods. His glowing eyes burn into Maria, radiating disgust. "He is unworthy to bear the Hero, and even more unworthy of my protection!"

The gods, unamused, respond in unison. "Silence, Enanon. You will do your duty." After the gods' reprimand, the wolf—Enanon—clenches his jaw, chastened, though his defiance still simmers beneath the surface. The wolf turns his head to glare at Maria, his hatred palpable. If looks could kill, Maria would be 6 foot under by now.

Suddenly, a pouch drops to the ground in front of him. It makes a familiar clinking sound. A sound unmistakably the sound of coins. Money!!

Forgetting his situation for a moment, Maria dives for the pouch, a grin spreading across his face. Inside is enough money to last him a week—maybe even a few good rounds of gambling.

"This is the only payment we offer. Use it wisely," a god warns. "Do not waste it on your worldly desires. We will not provide for you again."

Maria flinches, caught red-handed. Enanon looks at him with pure disdain.

The gods' voices rise once more, final and absolute. "Now, human. Enanon. Go forth. Your journey begins."

In an instant, the gods vanish. Maria finds himself back in the musty chamber, utterly screwed.

[gracehosborn]

Because I'm super proud of myself for writing more today in one sitting than I have in literal months--and loved that I got to have some fun with it--how about a snippet of what I wrote for TAI: Volume I today? Finally got Alexander in some action and this little taste of what’s to come is just great to me.

Content warning: firing guns, yelling.

Putting it under the cut 🙂

Yet another shot fired from the left at the sudden rush of movement by some of our party; they viewing themselves semper invictas. The air ruptured with the groan of cannon, callings of commanders, yelling of men, and the shot of muskets, descending our once quiet scene into one of the purest chaos. Turning towards Payne, the beating of my heart began to quicken, sounding like that of a rapid knock. Yet, my fellow lieutenant was then engaged in dropping his musket to sling his knapsack off and onto one shoulder, too concerned with the matter to notice my movement. Opening the large cloth bag, his hand fumbled about as he began to pull out his rope. Loud blasts continued to fill the air, accompanied by the sudden rush of pounding footsteps from within the fort—calls from supposed officers or others rising into the air, yet drowned by the rage of musketry. “They’re headed out—“ My sudden announcement was cut short indeed by the crash of iron against earth and brick as the fort’s gate out towards our right upon the front wall was pushed ajar. “What—“ Payne’s voice rushed towards my ear as he suddenly turned towards me. “Just get the rope out!” “I—“

Glancing between the detachment of men beginning to pour alike a stream into the area, I then met my friend’s startled expression—feeling a burst of cold air press against my back at the movement around me. Stepping forward, I slid my left hand up the barrel of my musket, brushing my fingers against the white leather strap attached to the underside hanging loosely so that it might be thrown across my shoulder. You can not tie rope with one hand—she is loaded however—could discharge while on your back—but he also cannot handle this by himself in this chaos—what do I—

From behind, the sudden nearness of approaching footsteps gave answer. I turned, attended to by the sight of three soldiers running between the group nearest us at a handful of yards, two of the trio holding muskets with bayonets fixed, seemingly aiming them at the rope which was partially wrapped about the back of the cannon—the stock having been lifted to secure the rope. However the third, noticing Payne and myself further ahead began to kick up more dirt beneath his shoes. Hearing the distinct thuds of Payne’s rope and that of the solider then nearing three yards’ distance with ever-quickening speed, my hand seized the weapon at my side, spinning her about so as to be cocked. Raising the musket up, the wood of the barrel pushed against my left hand as my right found the cold, metal trigger, and fired with aimless intention in the direction of the minor conflict. As smoke filled my vision from the flintlock mechanism just past the trigger, and my ear made a popping sound in reaction to the crackling of the fired musket ball, realization forced me to inhale with sudden strength against my wishes. Amid a cough, my finger slipped off the trigger as the weapon by means of its own power was pushed backward towards me—the recoil causing me to loose my footing a moment. Feeling the sudden weight of it, I slowly lowered it back into a rest position with shaking hands as my gaze fixed with a heaviness upon the small scene before me. With such closeness between our two groups in regarding the range of my musket, it had simply been my intention to strike fear and bait off the solider from myself and the other group of our raiding party. It seemed such had worked, for through the smoke which hovered about I could make out no fallen or harmed bodies—rather the confusion and fear which held the men into either fleeing or seeking out another group to raise issue with. Where my shot struck, I had not the time to discover before Payne smacked my arm in want of attention—the noise too overpowering for speech.

[mewgatori]

In celebration of finishing that first full draft, here's one snippet from each chapter

Chapter 0: Are you ready?

Chapter 1: Shall we go?

Chapter 2: What's up?

Chapter 3: What is that?

Chapter 4: Where are we now?

Chapter 5: How was your day?

Chapter 6: Where is it?

Chapter 7: Is that you?

[jaecadin]

"As reality resumed, Kiri kept a watchful eye on Dadrien. She still wasn't sure what to make of that weird exchange. Could she even call it an exchange? Maybe she was overthinking just because some popular guy had looked at her for once. As the night went on, she began to doubt it had even happened. He didn't look back at her even once. But she just couldn't shake the feeling of seeing the old man that had replaced Dadrien in the mirror."

Sooted Star, Dimension 4

[lovefrombegonia]

The way this line has a chokehold on me???? I remember, after reading this line, I just felt so intense and euphoric, I couldn't read the next lines for sometime coz I had to just sit there and recover...

FUUUCK THIS. KUYU WHAT THE HELL. I CRIED.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Lackadaisy Enrichment

[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.

[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. 😭

[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

[turning-dans-le-vide]

TRIO NAME!! (Chapter 706)

"Ah, right. Only a fellow initiate would do this. Thank you." 'Fellow initiate' referred to the trio of Yuder, Gakane, and Kanna. While she was fond of all her colleagues, Kanna held a special affection for the other two, who had been with her since before the entrance test. Gakane felt the same.

[pinchedlittlefox]

Image text:

Next to her sits Brendol Hux, once-commandant of the Arkanis Academy. Mercurial Swift did his job and rescued the man (and she makes a mental note to get the bounty hunter paid for that work). Hux is a big, blustering, ego-fed pig. Gone a bit to pasture, that one: His gut strains at his buttons, his neck is fat, and his firm jaw has gone soft with an unshorn patchwork of facial hair. He looks haggard, lost, angry. Occasionally he seems to remember that this is a dinner, then dives down into his meal with sudden gusto, shoveling food into his mouth once more.

Brendol Hux as described by Grand Admiral Rae Sloane.

From Aftermath: Life Debt, by Chuck Wendig

[tales-of-wocdes]

I can see a winged MC folding their wings over their body and employing a "if I cant see you, you cant see me." Strategy whenever they dont want to interact with someone.

Definitely! It will be adorable. Also a valid strategy when trying to steal snacks :D Assuming your MC would do such a thing.... which I am assuming everyone will :D

Something along the lines of:

Sneaking.... sneaking.... very quietly and stealthily... The cookie jar is right there... Just a bit more....

"Hey kid, what are you doing?" Lexia asks behind you.

You spin to face her... You look her right in the eyes and slowly spread your wings around you. While she is watching, you wrap them loosely around you, and just like that, you cannot see Lexia. Therefore, she cannot see you! Whew, that was close!

Back to the business at hand.

Sneaking... sneaking.... What to do? There has to be something... An idea strikes you!

You spread your wings a tiny bit... there is the price! You grab the jar of cookies. You have to use your whole arms and hold it awkwardly against your chest. But what is that in comparison to such a victory!

Now to sneak out without anyone noticing! Should be easy with your newfound strategy!

Sneaking... sneaking..... The only issue with covering yourself with your wings like this is.... You bump into something hard and cold.

You cannot really see anything around you.

"Really? Pretending you can't see me kid? Stealing cookies?" Lexia says and keeps you upright. You hurriedly cover your face with a wing. There was nothing there!

"Pffff.... " You hear an odd sound, and keep sneaking. Almost sounded like Lexia, but you haven't seen her. Nope! She is nowhere to be seen!

This time you hold your wings a bit higher up around you so you can sort of see the ground at least. To avoid any mysterious thing that are invisible.

Sneaking.... sneaking... That is the door... That means... Freedom!

You dash outside the kitchen with your price!

Behind you, Lexia shakes her head. "I am so proud of that kid."

I will avoid mentioning any particularly sad uses of this strategy that also popped into my head....

Mostly nice uses though :D Consider the above snippet my thank you for over 500 followers here on this blog! Thank you all!

[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

[jaecadin]

"It was a rejection from Lacrelon University, which said, 'Dear Ms. Avelen, we regret to inform you that we cannot admit you into our University at this time. However, there will be opportunities in the future—' Etc. Etc. As if their softened words made a single speck of difference. She scowled. Added the email to the 'what u deserve' folder—a long list of rejections from other universities and scholarship applications from within the past year. She kept the folder just to remind her that she shouldn’t expect much, or at least she should be suspicious of the good things that came to her. At least, it gave her a thick skin—or so she liked to tell herself."

Sooted Star, Dimension 2