/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.3434143]

Post the opening of your latest writing project, /lit/.

[Anonymous No.3434149]

"Jenny likes anal rape". A nice scrawl, wouldn't win any caligraphy contests mind you but as good a drag of dark green ink as you would see on a bathroom stall. That particular assertion was still making it's way through the courts, where a few men were still deliberating over whether or not Jenny really did enjoy anal rape. Of course, if she did, she didn't.

[Anonymous No.3434170]

The city was built around the church, a monstrous monument of black bricks and bronze from across the sea dragged to the fringes of the empire

[Anonymous No.3434174]

>>3434170
sounds sinister

[Anonymous No.3434179]

As he observed the callipygian beauty of his neighbour's new wife performing her umbrella routine in front of the family XBOX Howard gave a sigh of contentment. Only Kinect, he thought.

[Anonymous No.3434182]

>>3434179
I have learnt a new word today: callipygian. Thanks, anon.

[Anonymous No.3434183]

>>3434179
lel'd

[Anonymous No.3434186]

My face is three inches from the mirror as the powder hoovers up my nose, letting a white halo frame my left nostril. I fucking love self-raising flour.

[Anonymous No.3434192]

I stopped beating her because I heard a laugh. I clutched my chest, and felt that it was my own.

[Anonymous No.3434196]

welp, that first post certainly set the tone for misogyny and lust.

[King Milkfart !!vdE6KJiYWqd No.3434197]

It was a dark and stormy night.

[Anonymous No.3434209]

>>3434192
You clutch your chest and realize it's your chest?

[Anonymous No.3434210]

There is a spectre haunting Europa. Men have seen her by day and by dark walking the corridors of Mining Base NGL, pallid, translucent and naked. There are whispers and rumours that she comes in the night to hagride the men, seizing for herself their means of reproduction.

[Anonymous No.3434215]

>>3434197
10/10 would preorder, obsess over and then immolate myself in front of your house

[sage No.3434239]

"This is a thread"

[Anonymous No.3434349]

Rain. Lush forest.
he rabbits were gathering. Chanting and rhythm drew their helpless numbers nigh. One, warpainted, wielded a flaming branch, awing the observers. He lead the chant lower in tone, thinking it powerful, deep. To one of us it would equal a child squealing.
The flame wielder flourished his object of power. The gathered crowds fell in an unseen wave, grovelling in beta-ness.
He pointed at a strung up rabbette(?) and shouted, commanding "Bring the bitch!". A pair of shivering bouncers appeared from behind the tree trunk. They untied the desperate, struggling rabbit cunt and dragged her before the flame wielder.
The rhythm keepers lessened their strikes.
He eyed her, grunted and announced "The ones above have spoken, chosen me, granted me their power!" Sobs and gasps ensued, faces meeting dirt. "You are now under my rule." Breathless silence.
"Observe, how I take her, so that you may know how I'll take your wives and daughters!" he said, intensity rising. The young rabbit kicked and screamed, refusing to give in. The two held her in the air, legs painfully spread. Still eating the dirt, but eyes pointed at him, the gathered produced a crying cacophony, helplessnes coloring their voices. He slapped her cunt with the back of his hand causing her to scream out in pain.
He grunted and a trembling elder came with a bowl of liquid in paws. He poured it over her crotch and sobbed quietly as she tried to scream out her disbelief that this was actually happening.
The chosen rabbit pushed the elder away and unfurred his big, red, smelling prodder.
He entered her easily due to the lubricant and began laughing maniacally, pounding away.
The rapee refused to give in but the two restraining her were resolved to keep her in place.
"Chant!" He screamed and it did rise to fuel him on. He slammed into her, wanting more to give hurt than enjoy. The two helpers observed him force himself into her again and again, drooling in lust, knowing she was theirs after.

Furry.

[Anonymous No.3434355]

>>3434170
I think dragged from across the sea would sound better
>>3434186
Your nose hoovers the powder, not powder hoovering up the nose

[Anonymous No.3434360]

The day is of slate and marshmallow mist and Alex helps me with my bindings.

[Anonymous No.3435327]

>>3434143
"I need a hat," I said.
"Pass me the orange," she said, gesturing to the crayons.
"This horse," screams a person from across the room, "HAS NO NAME."
I may have accidentally stopped liking Stevie Nicks while being in here, but I keep this factoid to myself. Maybe my meds are kicking in.
"I hate you," I say to the nurse. Maybe not.

[Anonymous No.3435357]

The wish to do meta-philosophical work has been dormant in my thought process for some time now. The reason, I think, that I have not more rigorously and doggedly acted upon it is because of the sense that such “researches” (for I very much like Heidegger’s work here) are somehow not philosophical at all, but in fact very much a product of “misguided” philosophy, which has so turned itself around til little is left but a glorified Narcissus, gazing upon itself with no regard for anything Other, not even the initial problems that first put fire into its belly and light in its eyes. All delight in anything seemed to risk being transfixed by such a creature, who was indeed a terrifying ouroboros, ever seeing and ever devouring itself. This is hardly, it seems, what we should want of the thing that is philosophy. Thus I shrank in fear from all too deep a questioning into the meta-rationale.
This was a mistake.

[Anonymous No.3435364]

>>3435357
This is a little later in the thing, but here's one bit more...

Philosophy addresses the answering of a question. Of an answer, a single statement which stands alone like a fixed point, it can say little beyond whether or not the properties are intentionally consistent. A dot, or a truly perfect universality, bears no weight. They displace nothing and order nothing, and so are difficult to address. Only in relation to some other thing, that which they are not, can they be addressed.
Give me otherwise an example of a property which is not one of relation... and here I must stress that includes possible relations, because otherwise the thing keeps already a relation to the possible. Indeed perhaps it is the case that many properties or concepts bear their only relation to _conceptually possible_ circumstances.

[Anonymous No.3435373]

(It's german. Tranlation is marked in green.)

Dort, unter der Haube, verstand ich, wer ich war, weil mir keine Luft mehr blieb,
die die Räume zwischen meinen Gedanken überdehnte; sie fügten sich,
scharf ausgestochen und arrangiert, Steine im Licht von tausend erloschenen Sonnen,
deren Strahlen die Kuppel des Etwas, das ich verstand, nicht verstand und doch
begreifen konnte,
abtasteten; verbunden ergab mein Leben, das ich bereits aufgegeben hatte, lange zuvor,
auf einmal Sinn, gab der volle Aschenbecher, denn ich rauche nicht, gab die Einsamkeit,
gab der Selbsthass auf einmal perfekt Sinn; gab Raum für mein Leben, das sich
in der Mitte
von Artefakten, denen mein Sein

nicht

angehörte, gab - gab Existenz und Richtung und, dort - was für eine Ironie! - dort,
dort in der nahenden Erstickung hatte mein Leben, dort hatte mein Leben,
in der nahenden Erstickung dort hatte mein Leben,
hatte mein Leben,
hatte Leben mein dort LUFT zum Atmen.

>There, beyond the hood, I understood who I was, because I had no air to breath that bent the rooms between my thoughts; they fell into place, neatly cut and arranged, [...]

(I will post the whole translation if someone wants me to.)

[Anonymous No.3435404]

Who created the City? No one planned it and no one built it. But one day It Was: a seemingly endless slum that stretches from horizon to horizon. Piss-drenched backalleys, cracked streets, lonely squares and rusting iron fences; everything seen through thick yellow smog. The buildings look like they are stolen from all the ghetto and all the industrial hell ever created; their lumbering shapes blotting out the sun. Turning every day into twilight. To move in the city is like walking through the shards of humpty dumpty... broken; never to be repaired.