Stuff on my notepad

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random crap I write goes here

====cc

White clouds cover our sins just as we do often–

I might say that the clouds don't have to try nearly as hard.

Maybe one day we will be just as good as them,

and end up seeming just as pure.

]]1414-2

Dreamers dream in a small night, periling over themselves

peril never ends, unlike them does not sleep

they could try harder

they couldn't try harder, but so is thought

afraid because they won't be who they want to be

won't be the image everyone made for them

they can't live up to it,

though they feel desires, suppress it

though they feel pride, don't possess it

they forget

and so it continues

dreamers dream of no one's self

only to find them not themself

]]1414-3

Find it and don't fix it, and don't think of how

you find it, you feel it, it comes back around

There

"There there there there there there there," there it appeared, seven times, the word "there." It wasn't pointing to anything, there was clearly nothing in the room worth nothing besides this wall mysteriously written upon. Like a logical person, I used this opportunity to introduce said wall to the power of 40 millimeter explosives – though to my surprise, the wall was actually a façade.

"Oi, konnanoka?" I shouted, wondering what language this story was being written in. It was probably whatever the writer's stream of consciousness pushed out, but I wasn't convinced that using foreign languages in dialogue was a good idea. Digressions aside, Jane quickly responded through proper communications (and language,) "Yes, that's the entrance. How did you find it?"

"There were a bunch of 'there's," I answered. She looked at me a bit funny and scratched her eye, before walking into the blaringly red cave entrance, without saying a word.

naruto was better than I expected

夢の中で三の井戸見られた。あの井戸に行きながら起きてしまったが、「命」なんてものを感じた・・・・

夢だったって思ったのだが。その井戸が命。その井戸が審理というもの、その見られた夢は現実であったもの。

命の井戸で一次の真力を思い出した。「変われ」という力。そういうものがある・・・・・

考え中で、ただ起きた。

Orion-1

Year unknown. The Earth is at constant war. There is no longer peace, and technology has forced the masses to submit.

An unknown force launches a gigantic spacecraft that engulfs the world in flame. Very few survived this attack, and only ten thousand humans remain on the planet.

20 years pass. Society has yet to fully rebuild. For years, they observe Mars, now mysteriously shrouded in metal.

Year unknown. The biological mutants of the last era are found roaming the Earth. Hunter Team are formed by a powerful family to exterminate the last of them.

After a night observing the metal planet, the head of Hunter Team, Graś, recalls a legend; the legend of ORION-1 — a cybernetic beast created to rend the world of sin not once – but twice. Yet while a hundred years ago this may have seemed just a folk tale, now he knows it to be real. Recalling odd details put out online such as the estimated weight of such a creature, it seems simply too accurate to the situation to not be true.

Year unknown. Hunter Team is mobilized to stop the legendary beast after gargantuan ion storms rain down from Mars, obliterating cities and killing hundreds – forcing humanity to once again retreat to the underground.

The first flame killed over 8 billion, enough to nearly wipe the earth clean. Now Orion is trying to finish the job.

I had an 80-round around here somewhere. Last I recall it was just sitting in this chair, but father must have hidden it just before the first attack. The young man sifts through various containers, looking for his gun.

Meanwhile, his fellow hunter cracks open the floorboard, and she gleams – Ooh, looks like there's a bunch of stuff down here.

The boy springs to action and begins sifting through the dozens of various broken lever-action rifles and beach towels for some reason contained within the floor, and finds an 80-round drum magazine in the rubbish. Here's the spare mag I had when I went hunting. Now where's... He wonders, while the girl holds something infront of his face. This it? She questions, holding a strange – and, in the pile of rifles – out of place sub-machine gun.

Yes! That's it. Thank you, he says, grabbing the gun rather hastily from her hands. With an ugly drum round and simple, un-ergonomic front grip, the gun is not the prettiest.

The Cake of Reason

It was midnight, and the being that had erupted from the southern volcano was rampaging still, throwing away the lives of millions.

Millions lost to our lack of foresight. But we cannot do anything now. The beast never sleeps. It only grows.

I saw a child, with her mother; the child looked up to me and said, Is my daddy doing good in the war? So I thought, this young lady knew too well of the sitaution. But still I replied to her, Yes, I saw him just a few minutes ago preparing to depart.

Her mother cried, but she stood silent.

So I said to him, my partner, David, is this not too far gone? Is it even possible to save merely one life at this point?

I can't leave this place knowing we didn't try. We must keep fighting.

David, surely you jest—

Can you still walk, fire a weapon? Invoke methods?

Yes, I answered reluctantly.

We will go, and we will win. If we don't…

I understand.

[insert things about fighting, then finally crashing back into The Place]

It always comes back to this place.

Doesn't it?

We need to use it, David.

I have, through seeing all possibilities, failed to find any other solution.

This sucks.

I got up out of the rubble, wiped the dust off my coat, and walked toward the kitchen. The cabinets were still pristine, unlike the rest of the house, now destroyed by us crashing directly into it.

The third cabinet from the right side of the room, on the bottom shelf, lay a small cake, not but the size of a miniature candle, round in shape and with four candles smaller than a nail burning strong. The cake made of chocolate, and the icing on the outside like a shell, vanilla.

Are you ready? Look into my eyes. I said, taking the cake and shoving it into my mouth, whole.

I chewed the cake, which must not have taken even five seconds, and swallowed it.

O divine cake of reason, forgive us but one treason; destroy this world, in place another, the time to go, for last summer.

The final sin laid out tonight, remove of us the fatal plight;

Conteret omnia haec, respice in hac mundi.

As the roof went crashing down, everything became a blur.

The ritual was complete.

[insert sections]

=31=4=134=

I jump into where the elevator should be. Nothing but tether now. I drop down a bit as my eyes adjust, and notice I am cornered not only above in the third floor but in this shaft, too.

Let's see, one, two… I count the demons. And then one, two, three groups of them. Oh fuck, that's 9.

where's the rest

Time is not flowing, but thrashing; our waking minds do not notice the inconsistency as they have always lived within it However, the unconscious mind can see far more than the awake... And thus begins our story: Hacker In a humble country ruled by three parties democratically: Anvil, Labour and independent parties owned by corporations, often backing capitalism Our story begins in a bank, owned by a capitalist party Ban'qi "Yeah. Yeah. I've got it. I know." The man talks on a phone, rather archaic looking in style. He stands tall clad in beige business garb, tuxedo and all. Yet the smell of sweat emenates from him. In his other hand is a small blue satchel. "Yeah, I've got it. I'll keep the weapon--" he stops. On the outside of the phone booth within the bank, a guard is looking straight at him. He stutters. "Hah, hahah, yeah I'll keep our secret weapon down until we're ready for that big stock! I've gotta go. Yeah. Bye." The phone clacks as he places it back on the receiver, but the guard still stands tall staring at him. Without a word, the guard forces the man's hand up to his chest and clicks a tracker to it, and quickly hands it back to the man. He nervously chuckles and rushes past the guard, but not soon after the tracker beeps to life and scans the item. "Shit." The guard sees quite literally right through him. "Fuck it." The man swiftly rips the satchel's zippers open and pulls out the fully loaded pistol from it. The lone guard is the first victim of this operation, and as he's shot down, vital scanners activate the silent alarm. The man does not hesitate. He's pulled the trigger on the gun and the op. He's going to deal with it. He picks up the satchel and grabs the two extra magazines and knife out of it and brings out his pager. "Op is on."

As soon as the pager beeps out the communication, in through the door bursts another man clad in blue business attire. He's thin, but in his hands are two guns. "Are you serious?" he asks rhetorically, wondering if he should have even brought along this idiot. No reply. The two go straight for the elevator. "Dan, we can't deal with starting too early," says the man in blue. "I fucking know. I did something dumb and I'll pay for it. But right now all we need to worry about is getting the fucking expplosives in place on the 73rd." "Whatever." He presses the button for the 50th floor. "We'll go up to 50 first. The elevator breakers will be offed by then. After that we'll have to walk." "...And Dan," he continues, "fuck you." The bad blood between them started many months ago, during their first operation. As rebels against the ruling capitalist party, they worked in secret to destroy vital components of their political framework. Often through more subtle sway than terrorism, of course. Dan did not agree with these acts of peaceful rebellion, but in their first outing, nearly got both of them killed. The two stand silent in the elevator as it hums along to the 50th floor. When planning, they had revealed that after the silent alarm is activated, it would stop after approximately 70 seocnds. This was enough time, he pondered, to make it up about 50 floors, a safe estimate. The elevator dings as it arrives at the 50th floor. This one was rather arhcaic and did not have any kind of announcement besides a ding, nor a elevator operator. The man in blue and man in beige make their way out and quickly get into trouble. Their guns burst like deadly firecrackers going off on a holiday. Of the dozen or so guards in their path, none of them even manage to raise their gun before being shot down by the deadly duo. As is in the plan, they make their way to a private service elevator, one that wouldn't be shut down so easily. In it is a woman, clad in beautiful middle eastern garments. The man in beige barely notices, but the man in blue stares for a moment. Thinking of the damage this could do to the civilians who get caught up in the crossfire. Thinking of the reprecussions of their actions. "Get the fuck in!" Dan shouts. His patience for these moments of reflection is nil. The man in blue quickly steps in the elevator as Dan reaches for the buttons. Just as he does, thouhg, in bursts two -- no, three, four men. They'd been followed the whole time by spec ops. In full black kevlar suits and balaclavas these four stood, machine pistols at the ready. They were ready to shoot regardless of the woman. The man in blue had enough. He could see in their eyes that they were going to open fire at a moment's notice, fingers on their triggers. Blue had had enough. His arm extended to the frame of the door and pulled it shut faster than the spec ops had time to react, and pulled it completely shut with inhuman strength. "72nd," As he barked the command, Dan pressed the button straight away. "What the fuck?" Dan asked, but to no reply. Their trip up was rather silent. The elevator moved quicker than feet could, and there was no other available due to the circumstances. As they reached the 72nd floor, Blue took a block of plastic explosives out of his jacket. The woman, scared and panicked but silent, stayed there without a word. The two got off and continued their violent rampage down the hallways of the giant building. They'd reached their final destination, an unmarked room with an unusual black door. Blue sets the explosives and they back away from the door. A medium sized boom crackles through the air, and the two walked right through the now-combusted doorway. Inside was a single server rack connected through the walls by dozens of cables. On the other side is a singular monitor, with nothing on display. Blue handed the rest of the explosives to Dan, as he walked over to the monitor and Dan walked over to the server. He turned on the monitor and after a few loading screens a login prompt appears. He exploits a security flaw in the printing dialogue for the help menu to log in as the administrator. As he looks through the files on the server, he notices a folder of alphabetized workers for the Ban'qi internal organization. And on that list of folders appears "Daniel Blackside." Dan finishes setting up the timer and wiring for the explosive and turns to see what Blue is seeing. His automatic response is to pull his gun and aim it to Blue's head. "I had a feeling...." remarks Blue. "I told you not to fuck around on this op," says Dan, bringing his gun up to Blue's temple and grabbing him by the neck from behind. "You'll be my shield now. They want you." Blue doesn't react, except to stand up from the chair and put his hands up to the air.Dan moves to the window, and jumps out of it with Blue in hold. The explosives detonate as they fall through the air.