#microstorie

[kommunic8]

Un libro che amo follemente, un capolavoro: Centuria di Giorgio Manganelli. È una raccolta di 100 microstorie, tutte rigorosamente di una pagina e mezza. In queste storie, Manganelli crea atmosfere surreali e inquietanti, utilizzando una scrittura semplice ma efficace. Ogni storia è come un piccolo universo. È un libro che vi farà riflettere sulla natura dell'esistenza, sulla realtà e sull'immaginazione. TRASCRIZIONE [Eng translation below] Vi ricordate il 'Club degli editori'? Per chi come me, da ragazzina, abitava in un posto un po' remoto, dove non c'erano tante biblioteche e non c'erano nemmeno tanti negozi di libri, era un modo semplice e più o meno economico per avere dei libri spediti a casa, libri che magari non avrei mai conosciuto. Spesso i libri li compravo perché mi affascinava la copertina. Uno di questi è uno dei miei libri preferiti, amati, letto e riletto tante volte in assoluto, "Centuria" di Giorgio Manganelli. È un libro che comprai perché mi piacque la breve descrizione che si faceva appunto nel catalogo del 'Club degli editori', poi per la bella copertina. Una volta letto da ragazzina, me ne innamorai follemente e penso che questo modello di scrittura abbia anche influenzato il modo in cui io, non dico che scrivo, ma aspirerei a scrivere. 'Centuria', il sottotitolo '100 piccoli romanzi fiume' sono delle microstorie, tutte rigorosamente di una pagina e mezzo, dove Giorgio Manganelli costruisce queste atmosfere surreali. È una narrazione incredibilmente semplice, però molto enigmatica, straniante, da realismo magico. Sono delle storie in cui solitamente inizia: "L'uomo che si era appena corto, che gli avevano rubato l'universo..." etc. etc. E ogni piccola storia racchiude veramente un universo che Giorgio Manganelli riesce a costruire con una facilità di espressione che non ti sembra che stai leggendo chissà che, perché le parole che usa sono sempre molto semplici, frasi molto brevi, però ti lasciano questo senso di sgomento, questo senso di irrequietezza. Immaginate un mazzo di 100 carte che voi le mischiate, ne togliete fuori una e la guardate e vengono fuori queste storie. È bravissimo Giorgio Manganelli ad avere la capacità di una sintesi fulminante, nel senso che lascia chi legge senza parole e ti viene voglia di andare avanti, di rileggerli ancora, di vedere quali altre storie incredibilmente inquietanti, molte sono anche gotiche, ci sono i fantasmi, ci sono le persone morte-non morte, ci sono le cose scomparse. Insomma, se avete voglia di una lettura che potete prendere a piccolissime dosi, perché ripeto, ogni romanzo fiume è di una pagina e mezzo, vi consiglio sicuramente di acquistare 'Centuria' di Giorgio Manganelli e vi assicuro che sarà una lettura che non dimenticherete così facilmente. TRANSLATION Do you remember the 'Publishers' Club'? For people like me who, as a young girl, living in a somewhat remote place, where there weren't as many libraries and there weren't as many bookstores either, it was an easy and more or less inexpensive way to get books sent home, books that I might never have known about otherwise. I often bought books because I was fascinated by the cover. One of them is one of my favourite, beloved books, read and reread many times ever, "Centuria" by Giorgio Manganelli. It is a book that I bought because I liked the brief description that was given in the 'Publishers' Club' catalogue, then because of the beautiful cover. Once I read it as a young girl, I fell madly in love with it, and I think this writing model also influenced the way I, I don't say I write, but I aspire to write. 'Centuria,' the subtitle 'One Hundred Ouroboric Novels,' are micro-stories, all strictly one and a half pages long, where Giorgio Manganelli builds these surreal atmospheres. It is an incredibly simple narrative, yet very enigmatic, alienating, magic realism-like. They are stories in which it usually begins like: "The man who had just come up short, that they had stolen the universe from him..." etc. etc. And each little story really encapsulates a universe that Giorgio Manganelli manages to construct with an ease of expression that you don't feel like you're reading who knows what, because the words he uses are always very simple, very short sentences, yet they leave you with this sense of dismay, this sense of restlessness. Imagine a deck of 100 cards that you shuffle them, take one out and look at it, and these stories come out. It is very good of Giorgio Manganelli to have the capacity for lightning-fast summarization, in the sense that it leaves the reader speechless and makes you want to go on, to read them again, to see what other incredibly creepy stories, many are even gothic, there are ghosts, there are dead-undead people, there are missing things. In short, if you are in the mood for a read that you can take in very small doses because I repeat, each river novel is one and a half pages, I definitely recommend that you buy Giorgio Manganelli's 'Centuria' and I assure you that it will be a read that you will not forget so easily.

#centuria #giorgiomanganelli #letteratura #lettura #libri #microstorie #podcast #podcastitaliano #realismomagico #surreale

[autumn-may]

dear diary i thought about how saix is one of the only nobodies to actually fulfill the ideas presented about nobodies+nobody goals and also his position as a child who put everything he had into a goal he would fail to attain in ten years and got so distressed i passed out

#kingdom hearts #kh #my art #kh fanart #Saix #saïx #Isa #braig #xigbar #xemnas #kh saix #kh saïx #kh isa #back on my bullcrap!!!!!!! bro was manipulated into an antagonist role over ten years of situations!!!!! #There are so many microstories within kh that are subtle enough to go unmentioned but not subtle enough to be unnoticed!!! Including his!!! #image id in alt #Wanted to mess around with color theory (read:i picked out colors for 15 minutes until finding a color that didnt suck on this bckgrnd)

[timidxtempted]

Too loud.

It's a constant cacophony. There is so much going on, it's hard to focus on anything that needs attention. It's too fast, or too slow, or too much, or too little; it's too light, it's too dark, it's too sharp, it's too abrasive. It's un-ending, it's overwhelming, it's so raw and it hurts and it's numb and unyielding and it's all over everything and it's nowhere. It's all at the same time and time is not relevant.

It's too loud.

It's too loud.

It's. Too. Loud.

There.

In her head.

She hides it well. The ceaseless noise.

She dons her daily masks and she fixes her face and she doesn't look anyone in the eyes because it's not safe.

Because it adds to the noise.

She spins her rings and she hums her tunes and she organizes the chaos outside her head

so. fucking. well.

while she hides the mess inside.

It's too loud.

It's too loud.

It's too loud.

All she'd ever known was too fucking loud.

Imagine her shock when he showed her she had a mute button.

#ask game #microstory #thanks for the ask! #i wrote a thing

[iheartgarrus]

N7 Month Day 1: Space

(AO3 Link - My goal for these prompts is microstory fills, but length may vary. Enjoy some Shakarian fluff for Day 1!)

Garrus was extremely considerate of Shepard’s space.

Maybe… a little too considerate.

And to be fair, she was a little less than forthright with her desires. She’d never had the “moving in together” conversation before.

“You can leave some things here if you want,” she tried to hint, and he hesitantly moved a single change of clothes and toiletries kit into the bedside drawer. He still never presumed to come up and spend the night unless invited.

One evening, halfway through climbing into bed, he froze. “Did… you buy a turian pillow?”

“You should’ve told me these existed,” she replied casually. “I’d have gotten one months ago.”

Quietly, he thanked her, and they went to bed. But she must’ve done something right, because he stopped waiting for her to ask him up after that.

#mass effect #shakarian #n7month #n7 month 2022 #fanfic #microstory #my work

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Some of my fics on Tumblr

With AO3 down, 34℃ outside at my place and me being utterly bored, I present to you all the fics I ALSO or EXCLUSIVELY posted on Tumblr, so you have something to read. Yes, I'm super altruistic, right? 😂 Without further ado:

EMRALT ====== Mine Is The Sunlight, Mine IS The Morning (918 words, M) Is It Love That Glows In Fiery Alignment? (2368 words, G-T) Die, Die, My Darling (8800 Words, T-M) Come Be Our Beacon Shining Bright (9289 words, T) All Is Not It Seems To Be On The Outside (3085 words, T) 'Cos You Know We've Got The Power Of Healin' Love (2183 words, T) For We Know The Joy Of Life, The Piece That Love Can Bring (1573 words, M-E) Take Hold Of The Flame (2897 words, M-E) Life's A Bitch And I've Been Shaken (12953 words, T) Beast of Gévaudan (5482 words, T) 3-Tweet-Fics

AIDEN/LAMBERT ============= What If? (3124 words, T) Five Times Lambert And Aiden Had No Choice But To Hold Hands... (500 words, T)

REGIS/GERALT, REGIS & DETTLAFF ===========================

Force Majeure (2795 words, T) Bygone Days Bound To Corrode (1084 words, T)

RESSLER/REDDINGTON (The Blacklist) =============================

Untitled (791 words, T) The Things You Love Or The People You Hurt (1194 words, T)

OTHER STUFF =========== Microstories Grogu Mini Story The Soapnutmattcrackfic (Daredevil G fic)

#writing #fanfiction #fanfics #my fics #Emhyr/Geralt #Emralt #Regis/Geralt #Regis & Dettlaff #Aiden/Lambert #mini fics #microstories

[littleferallamb]

No. Death wasn't beautiful. It wasn't divine or poetical or anything like that. Death was Death. It was the end of life, the fall to the oblivion and to darkness. It was never beautiful. It was scary. Once you are dead, there is nothing. There's no Heaven, no Hell, no light, no darkness, no here and there, no up or down or left or right. There is no poetry, no blood, no honor, no redemption. No pain, no hapiness, no peace. Just nothing, just death.

And I couldn't understand it until it was too late, because, above of all, there is nothing before that eternal nothingness. Death came, and no light was there to warn me about it.

⊱ ────── Versión en Castellano ───── ⊰

No. La muerte no es linda. No era divina ni poética, ni nada por el estilo. La muerte era muerte. Era el fin de la vida, el descenso al olvido y a la oscuridad. Nunca fue nada bello. Era aterradora. Una vez que mueres, no hay nada. No hay Cielo ni infierno. No hay luz, ni oscuridad, ni aquí, ni allá, ni arriba o abajo o izquierda o derecha. No hay poesía, no hay sangre, no hay honor, no hay redención, no hay paz. Solo el vacío, la nada... Y la muerte.

Y no lo entendí hasta que fue muy tarde, porque, sobre todo, no hay nada antes de esa nada eterna. La muerte vino, y no había ninguna luz para advertirme sobre ella.

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰

𝐺.𝑃 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑜

#random thoughts #poetry #poetas en español #poems on tumblr #microstory #microrelato #muerte #death #bilingual #original #dark academia #writing #escrituras #poesía

[neondreams2145]

He took a drag off his cigarette and looked loningy out the window.

"Is it everything you imagined it'd be?" She whispered softly from the bed next to him.

He looked around the room. It was beautiful, best that Soma Corp money could buy. So much more than a gutter rat like him deserved. He racked his brain thinking about it. This was it: the money, the tech, the respect. It was everything he'd ever wanted. People like him died for this. He had literally killed for this. So why did it all feel so hollow? Why did this room feel as far away from reality as it was from the ground?

"No, he whispered. I fucking hate this city"

"But it loves you, that's why you keep coming back." She said with only the slightest bit of scorn in her voice.

He looked across the room at the hardware on the table. His body armor and rifle and her deck and trodes stared at him the way he stared at the city. In a few hours, none of this would matter, and nothing would probably ever matter again.

"Whether it loves me or not, I'm gonna burn it all down." He said taking his last drag.

#cyberpunk #cyberpunk aesthetic #cybercore #netrunner #spilled ink #microfiction #microstory

[mountinez]

I’m so so late to the party so idek if your still taking requests😭😭 if you’re not it’s okay just ignore this

I’m a Neymessi girlie but I would love lichantony too if you’d rather write them🫶🏾

41. Comfort food

hi, meb! <3

i'm deeply sorry for the delay in answering this ask and writing your lil fic, but i did my best and i hope i can pay you for the delay with this. also thank you for giving me the option to write for lichantony, since i confess they are the football ship i've been writing for the most. i hope you like it! it is basically settled somewhere after the barcelona game. 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹����🌹🌹

Licha drags him away from the group, and wastes no time trapping him between his body and a concrete wall. One can still hear belated cheers, but he's focused on the sound of his own heartbeat against Antony's as he hugs him in relief. There was something about that game that could change everything. They couldn't send Antony away, it was like imagining half of his own body being ripped from him.

Antony feels a little suffocated. Maybe Licha shouldn't be squeezing him like that. They're both a little sweaty, but that's okay. There's a slight sense of attachment and intimacy that doesn't allow anything to get awkward. It's just the two of them as if the universe were made just for them. Thinking about it that way, they should be kissing, but the comfort in that hug was absurdly necessary.

Licha breathes softly,  with his face still resting on Antony's shoulder. Bringing his face even closer to Antony's, he lets the next kiss land on the tip of the Brazilian's nose. Antony frowns, but soon after lets a silly smile escape his lips. Licha smiles affectionately, seeing him having so much fun with something so simple. "Trust me. I'm not going anywhere." Antony’s words are slurred, but clear enough for Licha to hear and enough to calm his restlessness.

He is looking at Antony as if he sees his comfort food in front of him. That look has possessiveness and desire, but it's also full of affection. Licha lets his eyelids rest and lets out a low sigh. He is finally at peace and approaches to kiss Antony, this time on the lips. The kiss makes his wet lips slide across Antony's face until they reach the infamous dove tattoo. Then they go to Antony’s throat and then to his ear. Licha takes the earlobe between his teeth and gently bites the skin, feeling the soft metal of Antony’s earring against his lips. “Is it a pinky promise?” The whisper makes Antony shiver. Soon, he pulls away for a second just to look into Licha's eyes and let his thumb slide over the dimple in the Argentine's cheek. 

He was not the kind to keep promises, but this one is different. Belonging together, yes, this seems right.

about this ask game

#mebs <3 #lichantony #microstory #my fics #small fics #manchester united #lisandro martinez #antony santos #sorry for the mistakes D:

[ktheqw]

Building into the grief_of_the_elm_tree Feeling the buzz as the animals flee from sight Standing under the sky for a little longer

Beginnings and endings come together a joyous rapture thunders through flesh and bone in the distance, lightning hits the old tree

An explosion of wood sensations of gooseflesh and clarity Another tree hit closer

Fleeing for home

#grief of the elm tree #candkwords #gippsland poets #original poetry #poetry story #poets and poetry #poetry of tumblr #vss365 #storm #lightning strike #exploding tree #storm buzz #poemsbyme #microstory

[spaceclassifiedsection]

For Sale: 1972 Apollo Moon Buggy. 16.5 Miles. Minimal Rust Damage, Good Tires. Silver-Zinc Potassium Hydroxide Batteries, Non-Rechargeable, Some Dust On Radiator. All Original Upholstery. Would Make Good Weekend Driver. κ-α-ρ-148996

#classified ads #for sale #cars #moon buggy #moon landing #microfiction #sci fi #science fiction #humor #microstory #flash fiction

[sekwar]

The fly that landed in my alphabet soup now buzzes in anagrams.

#sekwar says a thing #poetry #microstory #i need some soup now

[timidxtempted]

39. accursed 🖋️🩶

Accursed.

She was so fucked.

She knew that she shouldn't just...touch stuff. He'd told her that at least a million times in the months since she'd started investigating supposedly "haunted" places with him.

But it looked so pretty. And soft. And nothing that pretty and soft could be dangerous.

So, she touched.

And now, she was fucked.

Because he was going to say, "I told you so" and that would make her flush with embarasment, but also because she knew with absoute certaintly that he was right.

FUCK.

......................

He watched her try to free herself, and he couldn't help but smirk.

He'd told her a million times that she couldn't just go around touching things in places like this.

She'd be mad as hell if he reminded her of that. But it might be worth it. He hid in the shadows a while longer and watched her try to free herself.

Then he found himself thinking of all the things he wanted to do to her instead.

She looked so pretty, and soft.

Nothing that pretty and soft could be dangerous, he thought to himself, feeling his cock stir.

FUCK.

#ask game #microstory #thank you! #i wrote a thing

[cassieuncaged]

30. harsh whisper xx

microstory beneath the cut!

A calloused hand tightens around her throat, squeezing as his stubble tickles a pointed ear.

"Now, darling. Tell me who you belong to?" His voice is a harsh whisper before the base of her skull is pushed roughly against the wall.

"You, Enver." Ilwyn spits through gritted teeth. "It's always been you."

#thanks stella! #drabbles #microstory #based on an upcoming au

[iheartgarrus]

N7 Month Day 6: Exaltation

(AO3 Link - Today I bring you some feels-y hurt/comfort-y Shakarian with a wee bit of steaminess. [It's quite mild but under a cut to be safe.])

The idolization started sometime after Akuze.

Shepard couldn't wrap her head around it - what had she done aside from getting lucky? Fifty good marines were dead. Maybe she'd be some kind of hero if she had saved anyone, but merely surviving wasn't an achievement.

And people kept talking to her about it. How did it cross no one's mind that she might not want to be reminded of the worst day of her life?

It turned into full-on hero worship after the Battle of the Citadel. That or calling her crazy for insisting on the reality of the Reapers; there was really no in-between.

She'd joined the Alliance because she didn't have anywhere else to go. All of this was never the plan.

Then, during the Reaper War, when all of her ignored warnings were proven to be warranted, it became outright exaltation. 'You're the only one who can save us, Shepard.' She heard variations of that multiple times a week. What the fuck was she supposed to do with that?

Exaltation. Worship. Reverence. She was sick of it. Except...

Garrus gave it new meaning.

Before him, she had never felt cherished for who she was, rather than what she could do. But in the sanctuary of their cabin, he showed her what she meant to him with every touch - every taste, breath, and thrust. He had an innate sense for when she needed to be reminded that she - Viola, not Commander Shepard - was nothing less than his universe.

'Because I need you.'

It was his brand of worship that empowered her to endure everyone else's without breaking. So the truth that only she knew was that if the galaxy would be doomed without her, it would absolutely be doomed without Garrus Vakarian.

#mass effect #n7month #n7 month 2022 #shakarian #angst #fanfic #microstory #my work #steamy #just a little

[dionte-goethe]

I’m trying to be better about sharing things across social media accounts.

A collection of MingCheng microstories, based on one hundred randomly generated words.

#mingcheng #nie mingjue #jiang cheng #fanfiction microstories #local writer/artist with social anxiety trying to be social

[littleferallamb]

1: Ascensor

Pronto subiría por el ascensor. Estaría atrapada en una pequeña cápsula, encerrada por unas grandes puertas de metal. Eran pesadas, frías y grises. Todo en el interior del ascensor tenía un aspecto extraño. Le gustaba. Le resultaba relajante el tono verdoso de la iluminación, el gran espejo y ese dibujo de un pescado a fibrón sobre la pared. Le gustaba que era todo tan silencioso que aunque no tuviese sus auriculares puestos y el volúmen estuviese bajito, podía escuchar su música. El ascensor era su parte favorita de volver a casa luego de la escuela, porque una vez que abría la puerta, todo cambiaba, como si entrase a otra realidad.

Abrió la puerta del ascensor y ni bien puso un pie en él, sintió como su cabeza se vaciaba y quedaba en blanco. No había nada, solo ella, flotando en algún lugar del espacio, protegida por madera y metal.

Podía escuchar el leve sonido del ascensor en una mezcla con la música de sus auriculares que colgaban en su cuello.

Su mente estaba flotando. Se sentía tan ligera. Sin preocupaciones, tristezas, ni pensamiento alguno. Se sentía segura y tranquila, y la inundaba un cosquilleo en todo su cuerpo que la incitaba a dormir. Apenas llegase a su piso, se tiraría en la cama.

Si hubiese podido, dormiría allí mismo. Nunca saldría de ahí. Era todo tan vacío y silencioso que le daba paz, suscitaba un deseo de arte, de naturaleza.

Se olvidó completamente de sus profesores y sus nuevos compañeros, de los exámenes y las tareas. Y quería quedarse allí para siempre, para mo pensar en ello nunca más.

Pero vivía en el segundo piso y el recorrido no duraba más que dos segundos. Cuando abrió la puerta verde, la realidad la golpeó como un frío y violento viento invernal y toda esa paz, silencio y vacío en su mente se volvió a llenar con gritos, angustias, fechas límites y todas las cosas que por alguna razón, cuando no deberían, nos importan.

#microstory #historia corta #random thoughts