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bits:accueil [2021/08/28 14:35] (Version actuelle) – créée - modification externe 127.0.0.1
Ligne 1: Ligne 1:
 +===== Textbites of VN =====
  
 +  * [[jv:Better Half]]
 +  * [[jv:The Rose Of Segunda]]
 +  * [[jv:Dead End Junction]]
 +
 +==== Autres VNs que j'ai pas adoré mais avec des passages <3 ====
 +== Cupid ==
 +>Don't you *chérie* me, you bastard !
 +
 +>- You don't know what I have done
 +>- Then tell me
 +>- You'll hate me. I guarantee it.
 +>- Did you punch a baby ?
 +
 +
 +== Once on a windswept ==
 +>“I’m going to get married soon.”
 +>
 +>At that moment, the poet’s heart shattered.
 +>
 +>It hurt too much
 +>
 +>Now that it had finally happened, however... she had no choice but to nod her head.
 +>
 +>“Oh, is that so? I’m happy for you!”
 +>
 +>The dancer looked at her, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear, and said, “Are you sure?”
 +>
 +>Her eyes were large and imploring.
 +>
 +>Pleading.
 +>
 +>“Are you *really* sure?”
 +>
 +>And the poet had never been surer. She didn’t want... to ruin the dancer’s happiness.
 +>
 +>“But... B-But...”
 +>
 +>Surprisingly, it was the dancer who faltered. Her fingers trembled about the handle of her tankard, and her eyes began to swim with tears.
 +>
 +>“If... If I get married... You won’t be able to be my number one not-fan anymore,” said the dancer.
 +>
 +>“I-I won’t?”
 +>
 +>“But I love dancing...!” the dancer exclaimed. “I love dancing more than anything — and I love it when you watch me...!”
 +>
 +>The dancer stared at the poet, imploring.
 +>
 +>Her lips trembled.
 +>
 +>“Please...”
 +>
 +>But the poet did not know what she was pleading for.
 +>
 +>The poet’s throat convulsed, and all she could say was, “Congratulations.”
 +>
 +>Being a poet, it was almost funny she could not think of any words.
 +>
 +>Wasn’t that her job?
 +>
 +>But words had forsaken her now.
 +>
 +>"It was hard to say who that ill-placed, insensitive ‘congratulations’ hurt more.
 +>
 +>The poet hated herself for it. 
 +>
 +>Why hadn’t she told the truth?
 +>
 +>And so, just like that, the dancer left the poet’s life.