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!!dbKMts8jpHU/lit/24556003#24557311
7/17/2025, 5:52:36 AM
>>24556540
Stop gaslighting me, incel. I’m not the FFFag because I don’t write slop and find his cover to be disgusting. I’ll give his garbage a read and show you how much I hate it.
> Everyone except me. On the passenger seat of an expensive speedboat, clad in a reddish-brown wooden frame and powered by a cutting-edge magical engine, a young man casually reread his notes while a relaxing breeze was cooling down his worried mind and excited soul. The water is spotless, as if it isn’t afraid of me grasping at its private depths. And look at its surface—completely waveless. Wouldn’t it be good to live such a life? Wouldn’t it be good to live without a yesterday trying to devour my guts? Wouldn’t it be good to live without the weight of tomorrow crushing my back? Curb your enthusiasm, Rinaldo. Life loves irony, granting fools second chances so they can repeat the same mistakes. Well, as the foolishest of fools once said—third time’s the charm. He thought as he caressed the lake’s surface, noticing that, although the motorboat now racing across the water lacked a cheetah’s grace, the trail left by his hand was much wider than the boat’s.
Why is there a speedboat in a fantasy setting? Why are his descriptions and similes so bizarre and nonsensical? It’s garbage.
> ”For the last time, Rinaldo—don’t do it. You’re dishonoring our family and our republic. You are a Di Mario, and we don’t meddle with the Nobility.” The nephew appreciated his uncle’s effort to restrain the prideful roar that had made Gianroberto Di Mario---Maria’s Podestà---so feared and respected throughout the Empire and beyond.
He can’t use em dashes properly and just filled it with hyphens in one part, which is the cardinal sin of editing: being inconsistent with punctuation.
This was bad. Dropped.
Stop gaslighting me, incel. I’m not the FFFag because I don’t write slop and find his cover to be disgusting. I’ll give his garbage a read and show you how much I hate it.
> Everyone except me. On the passenger seat of an expensive speedboat, clad in a reddish-brown wooden frame and powered by a cutting-edge magical engine, a young man casually reread his notes while a relaxing breeze was cooling down his worried mind and excited soul. The water is spotless, as if it isn’t afraid of me grasping at its private depths. And look at its surface—completely waveless. Wouldn’t it be good to live such a life? Wouldn’t it be good to live without a yesterday trying to devour my guts? Wouldn’t it be good to live without the weight of tomorrow crushing my back? Curb your enthusiasm, Rinaldo. Life loves irony, granting fools second chances so they can repeat the same mistakes. Well, as the foolishest of fools once said—third time’s the charm. He thought as he caressed the lake’s surface, noticing that, although the motorboat now racing across the water lacked a cheetah’s grace, the trail left by his hand was much wider than the boat’s.
Why is there a speedboat in a fantasy setting? Why are his descriptions and similes so bizarre and nonsensical? It’s garbage.
> ”For the last time, Rinaldo—don’t do it. You’re dishonoring our family and our republic. You are a Di Mario, and we don’t meddle with the Nobility.” The nephew appreciated his uncle’s effort to restrain the prideful roar that had made Gianroberto Di Mario---Maria’s Podestà---so feared and respected throughout the Empire and beyond.
He can’t use em dashes properly and just filled it with hyphens in one part, which is the cardinal sin of editing: being inconsistent with punctuation.
This was bad. Dropped.
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