cunt toward enemy[11] 01:43

The vitals monitor beeps the countdown of the heart. Lazur sits next to the bed reading an old Lispector paperback of his mother’s, The Passion According to G.H. She was never the type to underline, but her presence is still felt. Paper is delicate and fibrous as any tissue. His mother’s hands dog-eared this page, spilled tea on that corner, and in every place the oil of her fingers lead to permanent near invisible changes.

Oh, my unknown love, remember that I was imprisoned there in the collapsed mine, and that by then the room had taken on an unutterable familiarity, like the truthful familiarity of dreams. And, as in dreams, what I can’t reproduce for you is the essential color of its atmosphere.

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Cunt Toward Enemy[9] Sciamachy

The shadow walks toward him, empty soles silent on the carpet.

Lazur reaches under the pile of clothes he removed from his body earlier, boxer briefs soft on the back of his hand. He pulls out his gun and aims at the shadow and pulls the trigger faster than he intended, still adjusting to his actual body, and he must have missed because the shadow keeps gliding toward him and there’s a crack on the window like the crack on his mind.

Then he sees the hole in the shadow, edges sparking around a coin of night.

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Cuntdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance

If you ‘act’ the most fatal ‘act’ of your life, the most fatal act of the epoch, you are depriving your life and the epoch of their deadly seriousness. From this consideration springs my first warning advice:
1. By no means should you consent to acting yourself, to become the actor of your life.

— Günther Anders to Claude Eatherly, the pilot of Straight Flush

Lazur stares into those hell blue eyes that reflect him without iridodialysis black or hyphemic red. Pupil, iris, sclera; clean circles of control.

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cunt toward enemy season 1 notes

💥 SPOILERS FOR CUNT TOWARD ENEMY 💥

COLOR

Bombs are associated with “colored wires”.
So everyone has their own color.

Lazur = blue
Cortázar = the language fits one of his backgrounds and it means something like “old stable”

Rubicon = a menacing but beautiful red word. Don’t cross him…

Calendula was the obvious name for the third character, as it is an orange flower (opposite on the color wheel from Lazur’s blue), means little clock (time is a theme of the book and Calendula seeks to minimize and control time), and it kind of sounds like Caligula. Triple significance.

ELEMENTS

A bomb is impossible to fit in the brain. So I explode it into Time + Destruction. These are impossible to fit as well, so I divide again.

Everyone has a wristwatch.
Everyone carries a countdown on their arm.
The mundane reflects the unspeakable.

Knowing these simple elements allows me to extrapolate the connective tissue between everything.

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Cunt Toward Enemy[6] Bone SeeKer


It’s raining but the rain is dry. It gathers on his hand, in his nails.
A clicking sound. He checks his watch but his wrist is empty.

The rain is dirty and it’s too late for him. There is contamination at the deepest level.
Something ticks under his pillow. He reaches under and his hand disappears behind the blank mass. He doesn’t know what is under the rock. He stares at the pillowcase where his wrist ends. The pillowcase is flat with wrinkles at the edges.

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Cunt Toward Enemy[5] Rattrapante

Snip. Snip.

The cutter in his hand grows wet, soft tissue brushing his fingers. Snip. Snip. Biological current severed. The house will be sold soon. His mother’s garden has to look decent.

She calls for him, weak as the wind.

*

“I want you to have something,” she says, eyebrows still dark under paling hair. Her voice is like autumn leaves crumbling from humidity.

He is acutely aware of bringing a loaded gun into his mother’s house, each bullet containing enough explosive potential to eradicate the face gently weathered across a lifetime.

“I put your father’s watch in the box.”

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Cunt Toward Enemy[4] The Birthday Effect

Lazur sits at the booth, the restaurant dim as always, black interior, cold morning light through half-drawn curtains. He wears blue jeans and a green field jacket and worn-out combat boots, black stripping to gray.

The only reason he knows about this place is because as a child he was taken in search of what was supposedly his dad’s favorite restaurant. They drove for hours looking for it as his dad explained the virtues of this particular location, hinting that it would reunite them with something that had been taken from them, imparted by proximity to an authentic mode of production, something honest and true pertaining to manhood and culture. Lazur still isn’t sure if this is the restaurant, or another restaurant his dad settled on in lieu of the perfect, still-undiscovered ideal, in whose absence their masculine trajectories have suffered. When they ate here, his dad seemed vaguely subdued, which his child-self didn’t think much of, but decades later he tried to decode the cloud of adult emotion in retrospect. Perhaps it was the restaurant, but it wasn’t as good as his dad remembered. Perhaps it would have been better never to find it at all.

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Cunt Toward Enemy[3] Demons of the Bomb

A photo floats on the ashy water, charred along the white edges. Lazur picks it up and it drips as if fished from a tray of developer fluid.

In the camera flash, the 5000K explosion of a false sun, his naked body looks snuff-film obscene, his face vulnerable and agonized from the stick of dynamite inserted in his ass, invisible except for the way his knees are thrust forward, chest arched, legs spread.
The boy next to him smiles, the half-boy, shattered boy, buried teeth glowing in the burst of light, jawbone strewn like a constellation through blasted flesh.
Their eyes are red from the flash bouncing off the blood in their retinas. They look like demons set apart from the rest of humanity. Demons of the bomb.

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Serious Weakness but with Girls

SPOILERS
This is an expansion pack for people who finished Serious Weakness. It is the entire story in girl form, hypercompressed, violently downloaded into your head.
I’m working on a lot of projects right now so I’m not able to get to my yuri stuff as soon as I wanted. So here’s Serious Weakness But With Girls as a little treat for the girlfags out there. <3

A painting with an X carved into it. A nice house with a stranger in it.

The first thought Tria has about Insul is that those fingers have no sensation. Looks like a chemical burn.

Then she wonders if Insul’s a tranny. She has excellent bone structure and her voice is kind of deep, but maybe that’s just because of her height. The world is full of all kinds of girls, Tria thinks in a self-satisfied way.

Insul says, “Want to play?”

There’s nothing lonelier than a golf course at night. The house’s private course can’t be that big, but at night it seems to extend infinitely.

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Serious Weakness aftermath

“Art, in fact, can be nothing but violence, cruelty, and injustice.”
-Marinetti

Simone Weil wrote, “Imaginary evil is romantic and varied; real evil is gloomy, monotonous, barren, boring.”
Serious Weakness tries to do both.

⚠️ (massive spoilers for Serious Weakness ahead) ⚠️

I thought it would just be a quick story. I called the document:

later I named it Serious Weakness as a translation of myasthenia gravis.
my runner-up title was Blind Cleavage, a play on the art conservation term (“Blind cleavage…is a separation that has no visible rupture, but one can tell there has been an underlying separation of layers.” (the weakness Insul detects in Trianon under the mask)), crossed with Trianon’s mutilated chest.
X_X. blind cleavage!!

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