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/lit/ - Literature / Fanfic / Poetry

M-my hands are w-writing on their own~!
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I forgot to turn off the snow because I have only been checking the site from my phone and it doesn't show on mobile. Haha silly me.
And now, more snow!

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UBOA THREAD for my ongoing project…

> http://a.co/fleNkGA


No. What is it about? Why is it relevant to Uboachan? F for effort. Read rule 12 and try again.

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Hello /lit/!
What is your opinion on literate roleplaying?

Picture unrelated.
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Understandable, it's certainly a different writing style required, and reading it out as though it was one big segment would really flow weirdly, especially if it isn't wrote in the same tense from both authors.
I view Roleplaying as 'Co-authoring' in a certain sense, just written from two different perspectives.


Well, I love literate RP, and…

I agree with >>186 for the most part, but I've had RP partners I grew up writing with whose styles never evolved or improved. There was one who I enjoyed roleplaying with when I was 10, but when I picked up writing with him at 19 his style hadn't changed at all. He was still writing the same stuff in the same fashion he did when he was 11.

For me the most important thing is knowing the people you write with well enough to be able to come to agreements and have brainstorms together even when there's criticism. Of course, on the other hand that can create problems. My current RP partner (of six years) and I know each other so well and have such a huge established canon that it's really, really hard to introduce anyone into it even when we want to. Just introducing newcomers to our canon requires an massive encyclopedic overview of the story so far, the lexicon, the universe plus an overview of how it might relate to their established character… which often means that they say "fuck this" and it ends up being the two of us as usual.

I've noticed that this can happen to a lot of literate RPers who pair or group together. They end up with such a long story or canon that it's incredibly difficult for them to bring anyone else into it. This is even prevalent on message boards where cliques form. Sometimes it gets to a point where these groups don't even WANT newcomers to their story, which can lead to larger groups being inaccessible and sometimes downright unfriendly.

It's also really hard for me to find RP partners because I fear I might be an elitist fuck and I have VERY specific interests as genre and fandom goes, but that's my own fault. Also, I can be kind of a flake and tend to disappear on RPs if they don't engage me enough. It's a shitty habit I'm trying to break. But I really do love an engaging RP.

I would love a new RP partner or two to group with sometime. Just sayin'.


I'll role-play anything if my partner has a strong grasp of English and a good imagination. Unfortunately, however, I tend to become bored rather quickly when waiting for them to mull over details. I'm sure they find the duration it takes me to continue an in-depth scenario rather tedious as well.


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you sound exactly like my RP partner

anyone new would just throw off the feel of the setting and the party, so fuck it.


Only do it via e-mail and don't expect instant gratification.

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hey while we're talking about books: anyone else read this shit
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How bout the rest of you all? :D


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Oh here is where I saw that book
I started reading it when I saw it mentioned here, thought "why not", for fast learning and learning new stuff are my only positive qualities that I know of.
Anyway, I didn't read through because it brought out my Go autism (I don't play chess). It is written by a professional chess player, so that's why.
Anyway, the book is kind of well written, as in the text is clear and he transmits a definite idea in each paragraph and not just fodder.
But he spends too much time talking about his own experience: how he started playing chess, what he had to go through, how he found out about tai chi, etc.
He does it to convey some ideas about learning and such. But on the long run he does spend too much time talking about himself.
I read about half of it before I realized it was just triggering my autism and I wasn't really learning anything new

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As for me:
Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World - Haruki Murakami
The Trial - Franz Kafka
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - P. K. Dick
Slaughterhouse 5 - Kurt Vonnegut
A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess
Infinity Welcomes Careful Drives - Grant Naylor
Waiting for Godot - Samuel Beckett
A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snickett (I don't like it now, but that series was my entire childhood)
Metro 2033 _ Dmitry Glukhovsky
Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas - Hunter S. Thompson
Das Boot - Lothar-Günther Buchheim
The Plague - Albert Camus
Breakfast of Champions - Kurt Vonnegut
Post too long. Click here to view the full text.
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The Master and Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov (honestly surprised nobody else has mentioned this already)
The Good Angel of Death - Andrey Kurkov
In the Miso Soup - Ryu Murakami
The Night Watch - Sarah Waters
A Handful of Dust - Evelyn Waugh
When God Was a Rabbit - Sarah Winman
John Dies at the End series - David Wong
Out - Natsuo Kirino
Nation - Terry Pratchett
Discworld series - Terry Pratchett
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time - Mark Haddon


>underland chronicles

muh nigga


Not that anon. Norwegian Wood is definitely worth the read. IMO his best is Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, which you might like given that you enjoyed Hardboiled Wonderland.

>Out - Natsuo Kirino
This has been sitting on my shelf unread since I picked it up from a library sale a while back. Time to read it I think.



seconding wind-up bird as his best. i read it at least once a year when i feel like i need to. always find something different.

hurray for this thread and all the recommendations.


>Time to read it I think.
I did read this not long after posting this. It starts off well enough, reminding me quite a lot of black comedy films. When it all unravels and especially at the end it became tough reading, sad and brutal. I would still recommend it though.

polite sage.

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Any of you guys read fantasy? I'm reading Fool's Quest by Robin Hobb at the moment. I was making a list of the fantasy books I've read and realised I've forgotten a fair few of the books I've read and struggled to recall a few series which I loved. Now that I've gotten around to thinking about it I might just go digging up some old books. Anything up with you guys?


I'm on the third book of the lord of the rings right now. It's damn good honestly, each paragraph is so intricately fleshed out to create this world is great.
Plus, I've totally developed a hard on for ancient european culture and my own ancestry.


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I switched genres somehwere around 20, but back in my school days I read boatloads of fantasy - LOTR never did much for me but I loved the fuck out of Dragonlance and the Pern saga.

Thanks to the (shitty) tv series I picked up he Shannara books I was missing - Ilse Witch onward - and they're surprisingly solid. Most of them, at least. Grianne Ohmsford is one of the best, most rounded characters I have read in any genre.

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So, I have decided to go through my stack of Stephen King again. So, what are you currently re-reading at the moment?
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Journey to the End of the Night. Don't think it'll ever stop being "my book".


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yo this is my opinion and it might be crazy because lots of people think that my opinions usually are (who i think are all insane btw),

but i really think that when people use hieroglyphics to communicate then they should have to deal with the perils of not having people understand them

..well, probably you disagree since you provided a response, so maybe, this post is pointless, except to express my opinion and make me feel better about myself… always question reality man


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私は、 "L E A V E SのH O U S E」を読んで再よ。


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再 is a prefix used with nouns. In this case you'd say something around the lines of 今はこの小説が再びを読みます instead.
誰も means "everybody" here, the word you're looking for is 誰か. Additionally, you can use 勧めしませんか instead of 勧めしますか because the latter sounds kinda pushy, which doesn't blend with the polite tone.

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What are your thoughts on The Fall by Albert Camus?

Here are some resources on it I would like to share with you:

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQCsSuj3LgA (rare BBC documentary)

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYuEwEhOzRs (a lecture about The Plague and The Fall. He starts talking about The Fall about halfway through.)

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b7UiShv7a8A (continuation of the previous lecture, entirely dedicated to The Fall.)


The Plague is a far better-written book while still containing a fair amount of symbolic substance. I can personally relate to The Fall more, but that's not the point.

The Plague is also better written than The Stranger, by quite a ways.

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Alright…So, I'm not really sure if this fits here, but it's a story I wrote. It's kinda short, but I hope you enjoy it.
I had to break it up into parts because the it was too long.
1 post omitted. Click reply to view.


It's eyes left hers for only a minute, and instead directed it's blank gaze to her hand.
It wrapped it's hand gently around her waist, and stabbed her with one long dirty fingernail.
Her head swirled as the blood seeped through her night clothes. She lost her breath, and the fire in her eyes. She was going to die. She was going to die. This was her end. After this, there would be nothing. There would only be darkness. In the face of death, her pride and ego meant nothing. Everything she thought was important fell, and crashed on the floor, sending shards of truth as sharp as glass hitting her face, scarring her happiness. She feared they would cut deeper than the teeth of this goddamned thing ever could. All she felt was regret now, an excruciatingly painful regret. More painful that the fingernail going through her stomach. She let out a scream, like an animal. A scream she never knew she was capable of making. But she didn't close her eyes. For she wasn't dead.
She hadn't lost yet, she still had her will to live. For she still had her good memories. Memories of her loved ones, of her dreams, of things she found hilarious. Yes, that's right. In the future, she was going to laugh at this memory. Laugh at the stupidity of the monster for underestimating her. Laugh at how she deemed it death. Her shaking hands that gained a new found strength gripped the scissors so tightly in her hand that blood ran down her fingernails. She mustered her courage, her strength, everything she had left, and swung. They cut the monsters cheek, so she swung again. Now knowing that the monster did in fact bleed, she dove the scissors deep into it's main eye. The monster let out a satisfying shriek, she smiled, and struck it again, and again. She eventually, seeing how weak it had become, leaped on top of it. Her scissors drenched in blood stabbed it everywhere. She didn't know whether or not it was dead, but she didn't care. She was getting her revenge! She giggled and giggled until her little laugh bellowed.
Until she finally stabbed it in the heart.
Until she noticed she was covered in it's blood.
Until she noticed it wasn't a monster.
But a human.

Her fear of the monster had turned her into the monster.


Aaaand that's it.
That's the end.
I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please inform me on what I should work on, and what you liked about it.
Thank you for reading.


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You find me in the deepest depths of the ocean. My lovely being floating brilliantly across shades of blue, I give a sense of calm to others. Like a single cloud in a wide blue sky, I stand out in a way where I almost seem like a dream. From afar, I'm beautiful, majestic…admired. My mysterious nature beckons some to come closer. If you happen to be one who comes closer, you will experience a sense of overwhelmation, a state of surreal intensity. A state where it's only you and I in this big blue, and the only thing that brings you even deeper into that intensity, so deep that it's painful, is the sharp stinging of my tentacles, as I swallow you up into my being, and devour on your every morsel, every secret. But by then, it's too late. Your being starts to go numb, as my deepest depths swallow you. As my world swallows you. As the bare bones of your being merely become a source of an energy to me. An energy I feel a never ending crave for. And once I'm finished with you, I swim deeper into the endless ocean, moving on. Never to be seen again by your eyes.

"What sea creature do you relate to most?"


Nice work, Dust. Keep it up.


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>Super old work being brought back up
T-thanks, Wilfre.

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What are your favourite books from your country?

Example: "Capitães da Areia" (Captains of the Sands) is my favorite brazilian book, it's a masterpiece from Jorge Amado. So, what are yours?
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The Great Gatsby. It's so god damn American and shows how bad that American culture can be.


My problem with Machado de Assis is that his books only gets interesting halfway through, like Dom Casmurro. Because of that, i prefer his tales.

Someone recommended me this book a while ago. It is really worth the reading?


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These children series. Today I found out the author is gay
WTF BROS https://www.instagram.com/thomasbrezina/


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it shocked me to the core, i read these books as a child a lot. oh nonono


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i wrote this for a roll story thread on /x/ that fell off the last page a month ago pls tell me what parts you hate most. (correct answer: all of them.)


I hate losing. It’s aggravating, humiliating. Like last night. My brother had his friends over, and I have mine over. I was supposed to go out, to the theater, but someone fucked the movie reels, and my and my friends’ plans were ruined. So we stay, and eventually everyone’s playing those party packages with a bunch of minigames, the four- and eight- player ones. We move on to Just Dance and DDR, and I do fine, well enough to keep my good mood. When everyone’s tired of jumping around, and most of them are sitting around snacking or going to the pool out back, my brother puts in Generic FPS 1000 and starts a little tournament. I join in, seeing as I’ve kicked his ass before and can certainly do so again. And I do.
But. His friends. They are so good at this game. It infuriates me. The first one absolutely wipes the floor with me, and I take it pretty well. I’m only a little ticked when the next tournament starts, a half hour later, and I get beat again. It’s un-fucking-believable how good they are. I’m shaking a little the third time, and when the guy who kicks my ass makes an offhand remark about how good I am for a girl, it’s all I can do to set the controller onto the coffee table and not into his eye socket.
I decide to go swim to cool off, but I’m still fuming. I was so goddamn stupid, thinking I could beat them just because I could beat my brother.
The little tournament ends around six, and they start playing zombie games. I figure, surely I’m good this. I play these enough on my own.
These fucking people. Now everyone else is playing, and some of the people who sat around snacking are kicking ass. The girl who drank most of my favorite soda got double my kill count. Game after game, I’m humiliated. How is this possible? How are they doing this? My score keep going lower and lower. It’s a fucking wonder they don’t all turn on me and laugh now. Or maybe they are, maybe everyone’s laughing and I can’t notice because I’m just doing that bad.
Later, much later, it's time for everyone to leave. My parets take my brother to drop off his one friend that lives in another suburb. I wait until I shut the door and the last person is out before I burst into tears. I can’t believePost too long. Click here to view the full text.
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I see one stumble through the bushes along the field and reach for my bow. I slip from under my blanket and creep closer, readying an arrow. I see its face and remember my brother's dying mask, twisted, sick, not immune. It lurches towards my little camp, moaning low but loud. I remember my brother's mindless humming and tears blur my vision.


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Still writing shitty first-draft OC.

The Long Claw

You stop, beside a stream, with your mate and child. You look back, at the valley far off, and think of home. Two other members of your group stand guard, scanning the trees. You wait, still wary of the darkening woods, for your mate and child to dip their mouths down to the water before you relax and bend for a drink. You lift your head just as one of the others touches you, taps you, and nods their head towards the low area behind you. You alert your mate and child, and everyone looks to the low space, to the edges of a clearing.
They are there, long-limbed, strangely tall, moving in your direction. Your group begins backing away slowly, moving to hide behind the bushes and trees, out of sight, when the things all suddenly crouch down, looking away from you. Seizing the moment, you spur your group away, fleeing as silently as possible from the idling threat.
You look back several times, and see nothing.
It is night already when you find a good cave, one with a wide but short entrance, but a comfortable space within. Your friends immediately lay down to sleep, tired from keeping many days' guard. You play with your child a little before it tires, and curls up to sleep beside your mate. You sit next to them, quietly watching the entrance, until your eyes begin to close.

A scratching sound wakes you. Eyes snapping open, you see it in the low moonlight - the long limb ending in the weirdly splayed paw, feeling around the cave mouth. Slowly and without a sound, you rouse your group, push them against the opposite side of the entrance. The thing's head appears around the bend, and you stifle a cry at the disgusting thing, smooth and furless, large white eyes searching; your comrades give you a look and you pass this to your mate, who holds the child closer. A moment, and then a flash of movement - all rush out, out and away, but the thing cries out and another appears, as if by magic, waving its long, long arms, unnatural claw lashing. There is a fire searing through your leg but you push your mate and child ahead; you feel as if you can not run, but you do, and the only time you look back, you see them, the things, tearing into your friend, your friends, twitching, the things, the thing, the one who looks up and back at you.

You stop, beside a stream, with your mate. It has been a few hours, and you listen ever vigilant to the sound of the Post too long. Click here to view the full text.


Found out five seconds after I posted that the correct term is "persistence hunting".


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Another /x/ roll story.


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Found a stupid passage I wrote angrily on the back of a napkin at work a few months ago.

…Indeed, the typical Wal-Mart customer is incapable of looking down, and does not believe that either the floor or the trash cans exist.
I recall one day long past in which I witnessed a legless man pulling himself around the store. Exhausted, he took his heavy basket off his back, and settled onto his chest to catch his breath. Terror overtook his features, and I rushed to ask him what was wrong. With a loud wailing and wringing of hands, he cried out: "I LAY, BUT I KNOW NOT WHAT ON."
I told him it was no great mystery, but he crumpled into tears. Shaking his head, he screamed at me, "THOSE ON LEGS CAN NOT UNDERSTAND SUCH PROXIMITY TO TERROR."
My attempts to comfort the man failed, and he left the store without purchasing anything.

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