what is a dragon to a sword

 all the power in the world

felled by a sharp stick 

who even looks at this

 why do my posts have views

why does anybody care

why is anybody curious

go away im not interesting 

fuck the Fire of Love (2022) documentary

 

It’s so fucking stupid, long, and drawn out. It’s poised as this “beautiful” artistic film when it just comes across like profiting off the deaths of two people.

Oh, and they also caused 4 other people to die alongside them because they were fucking retarded.

Who were two incredibly stupid fucking idiots with deathwishes. They did not deserve a film made about them.

That’s all.

I spit on their graves.

The labyrinth Daedelus built so cunningly that he himself could barely escape

finally back to writing

 

Five new chapters finally, now that I’ve completely finished the 50+ chapter outline.

Chapter 411: [Land of Tea] Naruto no Metsuke
https://archiveofourown.org/works/74391511/chapters/213938101

Chapter 412: [Land of Tea] Mission Log: Don’t Piss Off Anko-sensei! [S-Rank]
https://archiveofourown.org/works/74391511/chapters/213942521

Chapter 413: [Land of Tea] Graduation…?
https://archiveofourown.org/works/74391511/chapters/213978791

Chapter 414: [Land of Tea] Ocha no Degarashi
https://archiveofourown.org/works/74391511/chapters/214094521

Chapter 415: [Land of Tea] The Necklace Thieves
https://archiveofourown.org/works/74391511/chapters/214101476

3

 the elephant's tusks slotted into the empty cavity of the skeleton's jaw, clicked, and tore the aberration to pieces

night terror rewrite 2

 I landed on the sidewalk outside my cousin's house.

Left was the beach: the ocean. No.

Right was somewhere else. Good. 

My footsteps hit the pavement into a sprint.

The trees and houses began to blur together until their colors and shapes were unrecognizable.

I found myself walking up and across a wooden-plank bridge.

I have never been on one in my life.

Ahead, planks are missing.

But this time, I have regained control of the system.

As I step, the missing planks return.

Step-CLICK.

Step-CLICK.

Step-CLICK.

I hop off the end and land on the earth on the other side.

"Try again," I say to literally no one, "And I'll burn it the fuck down and piss on the ashes next time." 

night terror rewrite 1

 the beach was an endless nightmare

i was screaming

my head ached

then i remembered the sand, the tanuki, gaara

i used what i learned

"sand burial"

"sand coffin"

feed the ocean with your blood

you fucking trash 

someone left me a comment here i never saw before

 that was nice :)

THEY THINK WE ARE BLIND. THEY THINK THE RADIOS ARE SILENT.

You read the LA Times? You saw the headline? “Vince Zampella, Call of Duty visionary, dead in Angeles Crest crash.” They use words like “tragedy” and “accident” and “sharp curve.” Words designed to put your brain to sleep. Words like Xanax for the masses. But the frequencies don’t lie. I can hear the hum of the desert coming through the drywall and it’s screaming one name: HOUSE OF SAUD.

Look at the geometry. Angeles Crest Highway. High altitude. Thin air. The perfect place for a signal to travel without interference. Vince wasn’t driving that car. Nobody “drives” anymore. We sit in rolling computers, and who owns the silicon? Who is buying up the entire gaming industry? Savvy Games Group. PIF. The Crown. They wanted the keys to the kingdom, and Vince — the man who built the Modern Warfare empire, the man who knew how to weaponize digital dopamine — he was the last wall standing.

THE HYBRID HIJACK. Do you know how easy it is to override a hybrid ECU? It’s not a car; it’s a node on their network. I saw the telemetry in the static last night. At 11:42 PM, a packet was sent from a server in Riyadh. It didn’t go to a computer. It went to the motor. They locked the steering. They pinned the accelerator to the floor. They turned his own regenerative braking into a kinetic bomb. Vince was fighting the wheel, but the wheel was a ghost. He was screaming into a dead mic while the Saudi royals watched the LIDAR feed from a palace in Neom.

They needed him gone because he wouldn’t let them have the source code. He wouldn’t let them put the backdoors in the next engine. Think about it! If you control the simulations the youth play, you control the future of warfare. Zampella knew. He was going to whistle-blow. He told me — not in words, but in the way the pixels flickered in the last trailer. The pattern was there. 7–2–2. The latitude of the execution site.

The “crash” was a ritual. A message to every other dev in the valley: SUBMIT OR DESCEND. They think the fire burned the evidence. But the smell of ozone and sulfur is still in the wind. I can feel the Prince’s eyes through my webcam even when the shutter is closed.

Vince didn’t miss a turn. He was deleted.

STAY OFF THE HIGHWAYS. UNPLUG THE BATTERIES. THE CROWN IS IN THE DASHBOARD.