#publishing serial fiction

[vanessaroades-author]

fav place to post free serial fiction?

hello kind folks of writeblr~

so, I’m searching for a home for Queensmen, my novel about war weapon elf gal, a cranky noble tied up with a death goddess, and a turncoat exile, and how they all try to pull a goddess back to earth and maybe fall in messy love in the process.

Is there somewhere that people favour to read or post free chapter-by-chapter fiction?

I know of Wattpad, AO3, & Royal Road, but that’s essentially it. (Queensmen is technically on RR, but doesn’t fit their genres and has not been getting much of an audience from that site.)

Thank you!! also sorry if this gets asked a lot i’m brand new here

[kenziewritesstuff]

Supernatural Horror Novel: The Exodus Killer

Religious Trauma + Autistic Fascination with Numbers and Death = A Book about a Serial Killer playing God.

Warning! Content Includes:

Mysterious dead mom who is totally dead

Depressed, ADHD-ish Main Character

Plague of Blood and Hail and Darkness...oh my!

Mom is still dead, right?

Angsty brotherly relationship

Add a tablespoon more blood

Pfft mom's not dead, she's right over there

*Gestures to nothing*

"I'm fine...what voices?"

Detectives!

Dead mom...probably...I think

Available on Amazon as Paperback or Ebook

[tafferling]

Book Release: Aphelion, The City of a Billion Stolen Souls

Aphelion is a love letter. In incomplete one at that, which is still being written as I make my way through the series. But as each of its seasons is finished, a book gets released! And here we are! My first official 'omg I published something' novel: Aphelion, The City of a Billion Stolen Souls

If you like science-fantasy with soul-harnessing magic and tech, a cyberpunk (or aetherpunk, those two are having fisticuffs) flair, and a slow burn simmering away in the middle of a (mysterious) zombie apocalypse, then Aphelion may just be right for your bookshelf. Literally, because you can buy all of book one's 531 pages in gorgeous print!

What's in it?

In a world where tech runs off the concept of one's soul and where dragons steady cosmic scales, heroes are shaped in the shadow of an ancient grudge. Horizon's Crown was an Earther triumph; a stage at the frontier of the settled systems, a city of hope and dreams and infinite potential. Now, under the watchful eye of its orbital island, it straddles the line between dead and dying; a city of nightmares and endless sorrow. Varrett Vild Vickers belongs into a pilot's chair. He's meant to dodge asteroids, to race dragons, not chase credits so he can pay rent while HC's major demographic clicks its teeth at him and tries to eat his face off. But it's fine. Really. He copes. Or that's what he tells himself, all the way until a woman falls from the sky and turns his already upside-down life very sharply sideways. Armed with nothing but her worst-kept secret and a ledger of lies, Sophya Soulwright tricks her way into Horizon's Crown, looking for not only her sister, but for redemption and a meaning to a life she’s never held dear.  What she finds instead is a city trying its hardest to live, and a man who courts death every step of the way. He's infuriating, tireless, and after a glitch binds their souls together, he is now stuck with her. 

Don't want this chunky darling on your shelf and prefer to read it digitally? Dontchu worry, Taff has you covered. I release Aphelion as a free-to-read web serial, both on Campfire (where you can tip me if you like to get world building extras) and Archive of Our Own. 'cause like I said; Aphelion is a love letter. I just want to write it and share it.

But that doesn't mean I don't want to hear from you if you choose to give it a chance.

Where to find Aphelion:

On Amazon (531 pages, paperback).

On Goodreads (oh gosh I have an author profile there now).

On Campfire Explore (where, if you choose to tip, you may feel the sudden sensation of an ethereal cat slinking around your ankles in appreciation).

And on Archive Of Our Own (where it all started).

BIG BIG BIG thanks to @hermit-writes for her amazing typesetting skills (and book photography) and of course @drawinglinestoconstellations for the cover and interior art.

[not-poignant]

Can I ask, why do you love BL romance better than het romance? What makes them better? I did not mean anything negative, and I know everyone have their own like and dislike but I want to know your thoughts....

Also what do you think that made Asian MLM (BL manga/manhwa/manhua/ danmei) romances better than western MLM romances?

Can I ask, why do you love BL romance better than het romance?

Because I had no choice for many years.

Because that choice was taken away from me by a homophobic, transphobic, queerphobic, acephobic society. So all the romances I read had to be heterosexual, all the romances I watched had to be heterosexual, all the romances I heard of had to be heterosexual.

Because I'm not heterosexual.

Because I never saw myself represented in any stories ever, for over about 20 years (queer stuff existed, but where I was situated in Perth, Western Australia, meant that I was not seeing it).

Because I was force-fed allonormative, heteronormative, heterosexual tropes, bullshit, toxicity, misogyny, patriarchal culture, rape culture and more, and because everyone assumed that was normal, which made me feel isolated, marginalised, alone, and bereft, and cut me out of knowing what a life could look like for myself, and made relationships harder, when you don't have the words or stories to latch onto.

People like me couldn't even be erased out of the media, we hardly existed in the media, and if we did, almost never under our real identities, and almost always having to pretend to be something we weren't, for many people who hated us, or wished we were dead, or simply didn't care about us at all.

So, when I finally got a choice, I made a choice.

And I do not want to read heterosexual content anymore, unless it's queer (like T4T). The only place I actually willingly consume heterosexual romantic content these days is like 80s and 90s and early 00s romantic comedies. It's the only thing I allow through my filter, because so many of them have a really strong bent of hurt/comfort in them, and it's rare to find movies that have this in general.

But yeah otherwise het is just not a thing I look for in fiction. Literally a squick. Literally reminds me of 20 years of oppression in the mass media. It's not inherently bad, it just wasn't good for me personally, to never have a choice.

So I made one :D And my life has been so much better for it. I'm never going back.

Also what do you think that made Asian MLM (BL manga/manhwa/manhua/ danmei) romances better than western MLM romances?

It's just better for me, anon! I find a lot of western published m/m (so not like m/m fanfiction which I still read) often feels stifled and too short for me, and the characterisation doesn't get as deep as I want it to get. I often can feel the rigidity of the novel structure on authors who are trying to rapid release, and the depth I'm looking for is rarely there. Sometimes that's what people want! Sometimes they don't know there's other options!

Sometimes that's true of some BL manga/manhua/manhwa etc. as well. Tbh it's probably true of a lot of it! Serial format doesn't always allow for depth either. But I find the visual format easier to read as well. If I reread western m/m it's almost always fanfiction. And tbh, I'm sure some amazing m/m was published last year, I just get tired of having to wade through it all to find something I like. It got to the point where I was reading like 60+ titles just to find one average read, and I gave up.

The recommendation systems for BL tend to be better and more on point for me, I find most people who recommend published m/m to me generally always miss the mark (which isn't their fault - I'm particular, there's a reason I write what I write - because I can't find it to read!!), but close friends like @morbidlizard who recommend BL to me almost always hit the mark!

I don't actually read much danmei, but mostly because I haven't had time to really sink my teeth into it. Aside from MXTX, I haven't explored much further.

But yeah, hope that helps! :D

[satisfactionbroughtthemback]

Bloodbound is a serial story following lesbian vampires. Faine Monroe is stuck in the in-between, not human and not vampire. She seeks the help of the Elder vampire Verris to understand what is happening to her, what it means to be a vampire, and why exactly someone else is so interested in her stasis.

Bloodbound confronts the complexities of relationships, devotion, ritual, and identity. This story contains mature themes and is for those 18 and older.

Read part one today! https://alilyflower.itch.io/bloodbound-part-one

~

If you want to support a trans, disabled writer and get your vampire fill in the same place, consider a patreon sub. Each part will be uploaded there for paid subscribers, as well as WIPS and other projects I'm working on!

[facetsofthecloset]

i'm sure it's been said but i feel like both Raxtus and Ronodin can be argued as "the only gay kid in the family and consequently shunned/rejected" and it's like. so weird bc Mull is so Mormon he'd probably rather eat his shorts than even acknowledge the possible existence of gays but

i mean. Raxtus literally has a fairy form. he's a fairy dragon.

Ronodin was just emo lol

and they both get so thoroughly rejected and sidelined by their families their whole lives and it turns Raxtus into an awkward but basically decent guy who runs back to the approval of his family once he's performed masculinity/violence enough to be accepted, only to then realize that he's basically just being used and still not fully trusted/accepted and having to betray them to save his real friends

(who sadly are probably actually homophobic but that's ok bc they're not dragon-phobic so that works out for him)

while Ronodin's like "fuck it. chaos and murder then!" and can you really blame him? he spent his entire life trying to conform to the "right" (in this case, Light) way of life, started spending time with the outgroup and learned to question things, then was told he was "too corrupt" to remain in his home

like. the symbolism is right there.

it's so funny, because sure Raxtus isn't a bad guy, but Ronodin definitely is and he pretty much gets sent to a type of hell at the end of Dragonwatch

and while Raxtus gets kind of a happy ending, like, him becoming an effective killer in a war and being accepted by his dad for being Good At Murder in the first Fablehaven series is presented as a happy ending. if Celebrant didn't wind up being the main villain for Dragonwatch, that probably would've been the end of it! gay kid learns how to soldier and is finally accepted by his homophobic family bc he's finally aggressive enough for them to love him

(i mean i have MANY issues with Celebrant being the main villain later and the reasons he's framed as bad but like. that's a separate rant lol)

the queer reading is right there. but also it's very bad and you can tell completely unintentional. or at the very least highly repressed. idk man i don't look into Mull as a personal individual bc i doubt i'll like what i see and i don't care that much but Dragonwatch was SO MUCH MORE MORMON than Fablehaven already was and it's so weird, seeing the fingerprints of it all over.

i feel like he either has a new editor or he's been doing this for long enough and sold enough books that he has the clout to veto changes made by editors or SOMETHING, bc i feel like? he's gotten worse?? and more unfiltered?? that or something happened and he's like. even more religious than before or something idk

like fablehaven was just kinda generic/bland fantasy with some fun ideas for magic items/powers/one sentence character premises, with just a hint of sus Mormon ideology, and then Dragonwatch just went. Full Mormon.

but then there's somehow even more weirdly queer shit. like. he's repressing so hard he's approaching queer from the other side??

idk man i wish this deeply mediocre man's writing wasn't a formative piece of middle school reading, leading to me still giving more of a shit than i really should over questionable children's literature now

[quincywillows]

as i reflect more, i have to say one of the biggest aspects that turned me away completely from traditional publishing is the social media prevalence. there was such a clear expectation, literally from the moment you submit your manuscript for consideration, that you either already had a following on insta/the-platform-formally-known-as-twitter or would be committed full throttle to creating one. there was no question about it. the idea that you would sell not just your book, but yourself, online was baked into the very potential of your manuscript seeing the light of day. and i remember lurking in those spaces and seeing every single aspiring author regurgitating the same plucky, quirky posts, and sharing the same "friends" on the platform, and justifying x y z aspect about themselves as an author rather than telling me anything substantive about their novel (no true synopses in sight here -- just a quippy, 240-character logline usually filled with tropes). it literally felt like being surrounded by clones, or generic-writer-bots, and i was supposed to be inclined to show interest in their writing because of their PRESENTATION on the-platform-formally-known-as-twitter, rather than the actual writing itself. it's even worse now with tik tok and "booktok."

every single book i have ever loved, have ever called a favorite, always grew from the book itself. not the author. most of the time, i didn't know who the author even was, and i rarely take the time to go investigate further. the value and heart of a book lies in the words on the page, the content inside the manuscript -- not the name printed onto the spine.

i just really hate this trend in publishing where the author has become more of a draw or more important than the story itself. we are writers, we're sharing our writing. the story is what it's supposed to be all about; if that isn't connecting with the readers, what else matters? certainly not that -- and it's simply not worth commodifying your literal personhood just to get another click.

[littleeyesofpallas]

EAGLE[イーグル]

aka EAGLE: The Making of an Asian-American President

[wyrdstonethenovel]

CH 23: The Ironoak

AN: Wyrdstone is a serial fantasy novel updating every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday here on Tumblr. Wyrdstone is a good ol' fashioned rivals fighting for the throne TM. With magic. And gods. And world building. And the gayz. Did I mention the gayz? Enjoy:

XXIII. THE IRONOAK 

Asho tightened his grip on Hellion’s reins as the massive warhorse came dangerously close to decapitating a few heads. Iornore’s narrow streets that switchbacked through the city had not been built to contain the sheer amount of people. The city had swelled with the population who had amassed for the triumph’s arrival from the surrounding villages. Men bowed their heads and pressed up against the legionnaires’ shields as they maneuvered past the wooden cabins. The wooden walkways that connected the cabins above the streets were bustling with children dangling their legs over the planks. They waved purple strips of cloth. Asho smiled up at them. He had always felt welcomed in Apki’s mountains and among his people. This had been his home for three summers, and he basked in his arrival after the long journey. 

I’m finally home. He thought. He cherished the crisp, cool mountain air as Hellion’s hoove dug into the next switchback. The crowd roared upon spotting them. After another tedious hour of winding through the dense cabins, the Triumph crested the ridge. The air grew cooler still, more ancient, more potent, as they left the screaming crowds behind them. The prince coaxed Hellion forward as the Ironwood trees on either side of the road swelled in size. We’ve entered the land of the gods now. Asho thought as they came upon the legendary Ironoak. 

The prince’s mind could never conceive where the Ironoak truly began, and where it ended. It simply was. Roots shot through the clumpy red soil as thick as horses, digging and rising through the earth. Asho ran his hand along a root as Hellion ducked to pass underneath the overhang. The rust brown tree’s bark was as hard as metal. His ocean eyes craned upward. The legendary tree’s branches reached far out over the forest like a dancer’s limbs. With it being midsummer, the Ironoaks forest green leaves shaded the entire clearing. The base of the mighty Ironoak was preposterously colossal; the perimeter easily the length of two triremes. It rumbled with the same ancient, undeniable power as Thrysne Island. 

The Governor’s great hall had been constructed on the forest floor and extended up the Ironoak with a series of platformed structures. The following rungs were connected by a series of ladders, bridges, and stairwells. The platforms roofs were slanted, built with the strong ironwood to fuse with the organic structure. The prince had always considered the Ironside’s home to look like a pinecone, with the middle rungs bulging out before narrowing at the ninth rung. 

The prince shifted on Hellion with anticipation as the triumph fanned out. The Governor’s party was already waiting for them. Governor Ream Ironside was a stout, burly man, with a rust red beard that had begun to fade grey in the two years since Asho had last seen him. The Governor approached the Conqueror’s horse and kissed his knuckles. He was followed by his wife, the Lady Maple, and his children. Kohl gave Asho a lopsided smile as he met his eye. Even from atop Hellion Asho could tell that his friend had grown considerably taller. His hazel wood eyes almost hidden by his overgrown rust red hair and beard. 

A candle lit within him at the sight of his younger sister. The prince hungrily drank in Morgane’s juniper green dress as it hugged her curves. A bronze hair clip pushed her fire red curls behind her ears and exposed her freckles and mossy green eyes. She had filled out in their years apart, her face losing the roundness of adolescence. 

Asho ran a thumb against his chin and the beard growing there. He flexed his arms when he caught her looking. The prince smirked as her face turned beet red. Morgaine never could hide her blush. 

The next three days were blissfully quiet. After months marching northwest, Asho relished the opportunity to relax and reconnect with the Ironsides. His meals were spent at the Governor’s table. Ream Ironside loathed court life, and his preference to dine privately with his family was well known. Without a hall of eager retainers, it was effortless to melt into easy conversation. Governor Ironside filled the table with his carefree banter, often getting so drawn into a story that his wife would have to throw him a rope to pull himself out. Even the Conqueror, for all of his stiltedness, would grunt in amusement on occasion. After a couple of drinks, Ream’s hearty laugh rumbled throughout the wooden walls of his fortress. 

After dinner one evening, Asho followed Kohl up onto the ninth ring of the Ironoak. High above the forest floor, as the wind whipped his hair, Asho felt  more at peace than he had for a long time. 

“Here, brother.” Kohl said, passing over a skin. 

Asho accepted the mead and took a long sip. He leaned over the platform’s railing, starting out into the dark clearing below. Up above, the stag was so close that the prince could trace the stars with his fingers. He passed the skin back to his friend. “How is the legionnaire life serving you?” 

“The coast is bare and desolate. The nearby villages have reported that no one has attempted to cross since, well.” Kohl shrugged. “But enough about my boring station. How goes your travels?” 

Asho thought of the bootlicking Ditas and the other magistrates who vied for his attention. “They are a poor substitute for your company.” He said shortly. “The march here was long, eight, twelve hours a day of heavy riding. We only stopped to sleep when we ran out of daylight.” 

“Surely you prefer it over Aegtrys. In your letters you said you loathed it.” 

“It was the two most boring years of my life, truly. Sea life is not for me.” Asho sighed, thinking back of the two years spent patrolling Aegtrys’ coast and the parties he had held to starve off the loneliness he felt. He didn’t want to mention his pursuits in front of Morgaine’s brother. 

Kohl took a long swig of the mead. “Well. I’m glad to see you now. Even though the Governorship is dreadfully dull. All my father does is attend meetings and listen to the people complain about their taxes. But I will do it, on your behalf—” Kohl paused dramatically. “While you marry my sister and make disgusting little babies.” 

Asho’s ears grew hot. Marry Morgaine? As if! Morgaine, who had gone from Kohl’s sister into a beautiful spitfire of a woman. Who made Asho’s insides burn red hot every time her moss green eyes landed on him. He let out a choked laugh. “The Conqueror has promised me to some Pi-Yenjan princess by the end of the year.” 

Kohl cleared his throat. “You could marry the princess off to your cousin.” 

“Admrilia?” Asho snorted. “I doubt the priestesses would take kindly to that.” 

“What? She acts like a man anyways!” Kohl snorted. “If she was here now she would be ordering us around in our own home. Remember that one time when she flung you into the harbor.” 

“Yes, Kohl.” 

“And when you finally surfaced you had kelp on your head.” 

“Yes, I was there. And that was years ago.” Asho said exasperated. 

Kohl smiled and settled against the wall. “Those were the days.” 

Asho took another swig and stumbled as he stood. “Asho—” He snapped, raising his voice to match Admrilia’s unchanging pitch. “You must respect your position and act like a true heir to the empire. Why I single-handedly sent three hundred poor pirates to the bottom of the Semperimar today.” He flicked his imaginary hair back. “The Conqueror will be so pleased. Cousin, I made water flow uphill today, what have you done? Nothing.” 

“Wait!” Kohl shook his hand through a fit of laughter. “Asho, what was that last part?” 

Asho sat back down, growing serious. “The Conqueror has made Admrilia and I swear an oath to the Stormlord.” He whispered, sentencing his friend to know his damning secret. “He will only select one of us as heir if we are able to tap into the wyrd. The magic that has killed the rest of our line. I’m scared, Kohl. Admrilia has already begun to figure it out. Because of course she has. She’s perfect at everything while I’m a dynastic disappointment.” 

“You are not a dynastic disappointment, Asho.” 

“I’ve spent the past two years hosting parties on a senator's barge and turning every noblewoman in Aegtrys against me.” Asho said. Kohl raised a knowing eyebrow as Asho continued. “And I’ve sworn this oath to my bloodline. And my god. And I think, I think I will not fulfill it. The Conqueror doesn’t favor me. He will choose Admrilia. And I will rot away in some Pi-Yenjan court if Admrilia doesn’t get to me first. I will fade into nothingness!”

“Asho, you need to stop.” Kohl ordered, any earlier mirth replaced by steel. “You are catastrophizing. You will become Emperor, and if it truly comes between you and your cousin, my family will stand beside you.” 

“It already has.” Asho stared up at the stag as it ran from the hunter. “I declared her my rival in Sugia.” 

Kohl whistled. “I’m sure she took that swimmingly.” 

Asho hiccuped. 

“Asho, your grandfather is a wyrdling. You are a literal descendant of the gods. Your lifeblood is tied to the very Skytops! But you are also human.” Kohl offered him his trademark smile. “And to be human is to challenge the gods. You will be alright. I swear it. And think, you are in the Horned Gods land. In his very seat of power. The wyrd flows through this tree. Where else would you get a better opportunity to practice?” 

“Thank you brother.” Asho said. He exhaled, composing himself. Steeling himself. Eyes hard. Like the Conqueror’s; Like the Stormlord’s. “Now tell me what I have missed since I have been gone.” 

[helenaheissner]

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[goshdangronpa]

I’m no mystery writer. I can’t promise airtight murder cases. Still, I have quite a lot of ideas for the first chapter of "I DISAGREE: An Ibuki Mioda SDR2 Protag Swap AU." Let me piece together something - or some of something, anyway - for our new protagonist to piece together in her first pitched battle against sheer despair. Strap in, cuz it’s a long one.

We've All Been Looking for the One: The First Trial

The Monokuma File only confirms the obvious. The victim: Chiaki Nanami, Ultimate Gamer. Time of death: when else but in the dead of night? Cause of death: impalement, as evidenced by the gushing tunnel connecting gut and back.

Ibuki screamed even louder than Hiyoko, drawing everyone - including the bear. Hajime vomited. Byakuya fell on his knees. Fuyuhiko bemoaned the bastard who did this. Mikan broke down. Monokuma cheered. Everyone else cried out. But with a limited window before the imminent trial, there was no time to grieve - only to investigate.

Let’s follow the investigation and trial through the main suspects:

Nagito finds the Ultimate Kendoka’s sword at the bottom of the swimming pool, definitely not where Byakuya had stowed it after confiscating it. Only this could be the murder weapon, and surely only its wielder could use it so effectively. Her do-nothing demeanor could be a put-on for all anyone knows, and her being barricaded like every other patient means nothing when Chiaki also somehow escaped.

<Peko Pekoyama!>

Fuyuhiko vigorously defends her, leading everyone to question why he paid so much more attention to her than anyone else. Ibuki notes that before even knowing the girl was sick, he noticed that she wasn’t at the restaurant and rushed to find her. Peko says they should stop hiding their connection. That’s how everyone learns that the two have known each other practically since birth. The Ultimate Kendoka is the Ultimate Yakuza’s lifelong bodyguard and companion.

Ibuki thinks it’s adorable that he did so much to protect her. The others feel differently …

<Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu!>

A few things become clear: the killer needed access to the sword, and they couldn’t have been stuck in a room. So, either a patient with help from staff (Fuyuhiko released Peko, who killed Chiaki) or a member of the staff on their own (Fuyuhiko did it himself to cure Peko). Fuyuhiko had already shown a willingness to kill before this sudden pivot to nursing. Maybe he volunteered specifically to become the blackened after all!

“No, that’s wrong!” Hajime’s been practically nonfunctional after seeing Chiaki’s corpse. Though he’ll never know it in this AU, her presence in the trials would’ve grounded him in a way no one else could, enabling him to suss out contradictions and find the truth. This is what allows another person to become the protagonist. With Fuyuhiko in the crosshairs, though, he’ll finally spring into action. “Peko would’ve died too,” he continues, “and he’d never let that happen.”

A few other clues will vindicate the pair. I like the idea that Hajime is Fuyuhiko’s alibi because they spent the whole night in bed together. Kuzuhina fans, rejoice! (Fuyuhiko, too straightedge to let the implications stand, insists they just watched samurai movies until they passed out.)

This is when Ibuki and Mikan realize something crucial. “She wasn’t acting like herself,” Fuyuhiko says about Peko’s recent behavior shift. He’s the only one who’d know what any patient was like before the island. It’s no coincidence that they started acting weird when they fell ill. The illness itself radically altered their personalities! “It’s like Opposite Day Disease,” Ibuki shouts, “or Being-Really-Different Disease!” (And this is why I chose Peko as one of the infected!)

Monokuma confirms their theory, but claims dibs on naming the malady he invented. He dubs it Despair Disease.

<Byakuya Togami!>

Up to this point, Ibuki’s mostly been little more than a contributor to the trial’s progress. Byakuya Togami dominates the conversation with his self-proclaimed leadership role. His keen observation skills and high intellect back him up. What he can’t quite manage is to piece together a clear narrative of the night’s events, though he still expects everyone to catch up with him.

Several things become clear:

The staff were around the contagious patients long enough that someone could’ve caught Despair Disease from them.

The symptoms of the infected cleared up after Chiaki’s murder, though the exact timeframe is unknown.

Hajime and Fuyuhiko are each other’s alibis.

Ibuki and Mikan, having also shared a bed (Hiyoko: “Hey, is that hotel a love hotel?”), are each other’s alibis.

(I've learned that two people can’t just be each other’s alibis. Just assume there was an awkward moment, very late at night, where Mikan and Fuyuhiko tried sneaking out of what they both know to be, respectively, Ibuki and Hajime’s rooms. They both ducked back in and apparently stayed.)

No one saw Byakuya after the group split and left Ibuki’s room.

Byakuya was the one who insisted on storing Peko’s sword.

He also insisted on keeping its location secret from everyone else.

The alleged leader and protector of the group doesn’t take the subsequent accusations well. (Being the only one on staff who slept alone that night doesn’t help.) Ibuki’s confident that he’d never murder someone in a million years, but vibes alone aren’t enough for others to drop their suspicions. This is her moment to shine as the protagonist! Her vivid imagination allows her to conceive possibilities that wouldn’t cross anyone else’s minds and devise creative solutions that most would immediately dismiss.

One funky idea I had for how his name gets cleared involves Chiaki’s nails. While examining her corpse, Ibuki notices dark marks beneath them - flesh, torn off when the victim fought back. Kitty had claws, but who bears the claw marks? Only one way to find out: “Quick! Take off your top!” With no choice but to remove his dinner jacket and undershirt, Byakuya shows no signs of that damage on his chest, arms, or back.

Pants are out of the question. At least, not until others expose their upper halves first. Despite Teruteru’s insistence, they start with the boys:

The slim Fuyuhiko is free of marks.

So is the surprisingly wide-chested Hajime … “but,” Ibuki teases, “you already knew that, didn’t you, Hiki-chan?”

Nagito has scars, but they’re old. Mikan correctly guesses they’re from past surgeries.

Kazuichi, who’s been near-catatonic since being discovered in his room, is reluctant to move, let alone strip. Ibuki recalls that his crazy pecs were exposed throughout his entire hospital stay. They thought that finding him with his jumpsuit zipped up was a sign of normalcy …

The others urge him to comply. With great reluctance, he unzips. This action reveals a bloodstained wifebeater.

<Kazuichi Soda!>

More on the murder and execution, next week.

PREV: The Killing Game's First Victim

NEXT: The First Blackened

[tafferling]

Aphelion: A Touch Of Ruin

Like Science-fantasy? Soul-harnessing magic+tech? Cyberpunk (sorta)? Slow burns simmering away in the middle of a zombie apocalypse? Then this free-to-read web serial might just be for you.

Varrett reflects on the dumpster fire that is his life. Sophya browses cute kitten videos. And then the consequences of her actions sneak up on her. Rude.

Episode Two continues. I know it's been a while since I updated, but life, ya'know?

Chapter Six: Cardio

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Varrett’s life had been wrecked when Elpis had buckled under the Twins. Totalled, you might say. In a unique kinda way that’d void any possible insurance claims, because who put planet-wide zombie apocalypse on their coverage sheet? Anyway. It’d turned into an unrecognisable mess made from grief and stress, with the only upside to it being how it couldn’t possibly get any worse. Ha. Ha Look at him now. On the third morning after Isaac and his conspiracy theories had taken a sledgehammer to what’d been left of Varrett’s life, Varrett started yet another day his day with enough anxiety he almost skipped his coffee. Almost. You didn’t turn down a slice of normalcy like that. A bit of steady in an otherwise unsteady (smashed to smithereens) life, even if the brew was of an instant variety and boiled with water out of a secret rebel hideout’s water tap which may or may not have been contributing to his belly ache. Clandestine coffee. Too bad it tasted like shit. The view was nice though. He leaned against the window backing the same nook where Whitram had waited for them on their first day, the mug raised to his lips and his eyes fixed on the Quarry’s bottomless pit. The Elpisan sky still held up a blanket of stars bright enough to see by; at least until you looked down. The pit quickly swallowed every twinkle. He grimaced. If this wasn’t an allegory to his situation then he didn’t know what was. Look up, and you found the hope of winking stars. Hope for all of this to come to an end. Hope for (actual) normalcy beyond a morning-coffee routine. Hope to board the Dream of Neverland and get the fuck out of here. Hope, which liked to twinkle at him like one of those stars. Look down, and it all got sucked down yet another dark hole. Unfailingly. And what do we do when that shit happens, champ? Why, we climbed down, picked up the shiny speck of hope, and climbed back up with it. It was tedious. Ex-fucking-hausting. But it was also the only thing he could think of doing. The alternative was to roll over. “Pff,” he told the window pane. No way. He’d not take the universe’s shit. No Sir. Mom’d raised a better man than that.

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[not-poignant]

I looked up "Love So Pure" after that ask and I've been binging it the last few hours instead of sleeping. I haven't laughed this hard in so long. I love Daeshik and the art and really all the characters. Thank you for telling us about it, I'm having such a good time.

IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD

(PLEASE READ PERFECT BUDDY / XXX BUDDY AS WELL IT HAS GENUINE LAUGH OUT LOUD MOMENTS)

dsalkjfasd you're gonna make me reread Love So Pure and I'm not mad AT ALL

Honestly my favourite m/m romances over the past two years have all been in webtoons. I feel like I've ascended lmao

[princehendir]

Had a very funny thought process in which I realized that you could in fact argue that like, Dickens stories & Sherlock Holmes, is not books.

[thedoubteriswise]

it's always so funny to me when I see posts go by that are like "I wish authors wouldn't delete their fics but of course that's their right :(((" like okay yeah. technically it is. I can't stop them, it's their intellectual property and all that. also, once it's out there it's not entirely yours anymore, like any other piece of art that's ever existed. if you really hate it that much, orphan it. I'm speaking as both a reader and a writer here. cope.