The Queen in Blue - Queen to Rook Black

his isn’t just a poem. This is the spine-crack heard across the dreamlands.

In this episode of Queen to Rook Black, we go deep—deep—into the metaphysical engine room of the Queen in Bluemythos. Rhombus Ticks uncovers a poem so saturated with cosmic implication it rewrites the board: not just who’s playing the game, but what pieces mean what. The Black Rook stands revealed—not as a mere chess metaphor, but a literal necromantic waystation at the edge of death, memory, and myth. A cyborg warden, Blackjack, serves as its keeper. But today, he’s not in charge.

Because today, She comes.

The Queen in Blue arrives unannounced to rewrite the rules. And behind her? The Spirit of Humanity, skyscraper-tall, drenched in mourning, dragging a dirge of pipers to the gates of annihilation. She is ready to die. And she has good reason.

But the Queen isn't ready to let her.

What unfolds is no mere negotiation—it’s a showdown of archetypes. Dignity and despair. Mercy and judgment. Dream and entropy. The Queen reveals her rank not through force, but through checkmate. A single word—wait—freezes doom itself in its tracks.

In this episode, we bear witness to a metaphysical intervention: the literal salvation of humanity’s soul by a being whose only weapon is benevolence wrapped in unbearable truth. We explore the hidden laws of the dead, the forbidden contracts of the archetypal, and the strategic brilliance of the Queen’s play.

This isn’t horror. It’s prophecy.

And the game’s not over.

The Queen in Blue - The Lost Story

My Work is Not AI

Have you thought about using AI to help you write or do art? Well brother let me tell you; why the fuck not? If I've learned anything in the last week, it’s that it doesn’t matter if you do or don’t—some fucking commie fuck will accuse your best work of being AI.

2011: I've written 4 novels and they're all shit but one. SFWA and Worldcon get me robbed, nearly stabbed, and told by professional writers that I should literally stop the fuck writing. I shit you not, I paid to have that happen.

14 years later I keep fucking writing and I've got 10 in the can and 3 more coming. I got good, only my editor backs another friend who stabs me in the back. Friends and family almost all stop reading my shit.

I don't got 3000 bucks. So I say fuck it—AI or stop writing. And I'm not gonna let those SFWA fucks get me to stop. So I use AI to EDIT... and it fucking works. WELL.

But I make damn sure not even one fuckin word is AI. Not even a comma. I get good at it, and I like using it, but I remember the artists and their struggle, so I keep it to myself.

SEVEN FUCKING ARTISTS I try to get to do a Kickstarter for The Queen in Blue. SEVEN. Cash up front or not at all. OK, I plan to still do the Kickstarter, but I'm a lot less sympathetic... so privately I start sharing AI pics with family and friends.

I get flack for it, so I say FUCK IT and start sharing. But even then, when I WRITE with AI, I use a specific alias in a specific blog.

So not only does a bunch of Politically Corrupt Anarchs gang-rape my account, but they keep stalking it and mocking it, among other anti-AI shitheads.

You can't win. They don’t care about you. They're gonna call what you write fake anyway. Do what you fucking want. I may even hire human artists for my entirely self-published projects...

But I'll expect 'em to stab me in the back. Do what you fuckin want. Doing the right thing doesn’t fucking matter for AI. And moreover, I look at the PIECES OF SHIT kicking my muted account even now and I’m like:

DO WHAT YOU FUCKING WANT. Standing or lying down, the anti-AI SHITHEADS will stab you in the back anyway. #AI #OPENAI #ChatGPT

My blog started in 2007. FUCK anti-AI fucks. FUCK them all. FUCK Anarchs. FUCK EM.

[Poem] Pacto del Olvida

Anyone who thinks I write with Gen AI except on the one blog where it is pretty fucking clearly marked with the pseudonym I use it for is welcome to a live streamed video conference where I write a poem on any subject they fucking like...in 5 minutes or less, but if I do, then they go to a public urinal and scoop the water right in their filthy lying mouth.

Part one

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

[Poem] Was It Worth It

by Emmit Other

You lined up the pawn

like ducks in a row

then you sent a human missile

and they put on a show

the Perils of Pauline

was just Ventriliquist's throw

but the target took a left turn

and started to go

So you upped the ante

and then you hit low

Using every quivver

unleashed cupids poisened tip bow

But the watcher is watched

And the puppets in tow

theres a meaning to recurisve

but I dont think you know

that the reaping you has planned

isnt going to sow

For you cannot trick the trickster

Who has bribed your own shadow

We dont need what you think

Or even what we allow

The Queen in Blue - Destiny's Belfry

In this pulse-pounding solo episode, Rhombus Ticks cracks open a sealed folio containing what appears to be a redacted police report crossed with a metaphysical vigilante tale. What follows is the story of Manfred, a techno-vigilante from another dimension stranded in noir-era Los Angeles, navigating Nazi infiltration, occult conspiracies, and something far, far worse.

Manfred uses ultratech gear and brutal efficiency to infiltrate a fascist ritual taking place inside the Hugh-Gryss building—a twisted octagonal temple adorned with cicada symbology and ritual sex magic. As he attempts to liberate prisoners trapped in blood-draining silk columns, he confronts an otherworldly horror: a musclebound, worm-haired creature summoned via obscene pageantry. What begins as a stealth operation spirals into cosmic panic as Manfred realizes that he may be outgunned not just technologically—but spiritually.

Meanwhile, Ticks frames the whole tale as a disturbing anachronism: a case file sealed by a federal judge in 1943, commented on by the CIA and FBI for decades, and apparently "found" decades before it could have happened. Is this folio a prophecy? A confession? A metaphor? Or a glimpse into a war fought between timelines?

The Queen in Blue - The Lost Story

Fixing Blue Sky

Has your account been blocked by Rape Pill Tech Bros? Find out how to fix it.

[Poem] Yippy Little Dogs

by Emmit Other

they say

they say

they say

they say imma bot

laugh track on

thats nice

thats nice

they dont have a thought

no gods masters

masterbating doublethink acrobats

arguing with each other

arguing with their dog

using the tools of hierachy

while they fuck a lincoln log

misfits and weirdos

i thought they were cool

until i saw just gow cruel

these dog rapin assholes

their dicks got hard

their dicks got hard

their dicks got hard

to kick me while down

their fucks got long

hear them moan

like a revolutionary prostite

and i aint talking courtesan

cause aint they cute

i mean a five dollar briefcase

corproate suit

mutual aid and empathy like to project

but its really just their amway

that theyre trying to proteect

if you cross em they will fuck your cat

and you want some proof

let me show its where its at

libertarians are posers

cause they dont donate to party

put their money where their mouth is

their belches are farty

and lookin at the anarchists

theyre just a fucking hypocrit

cause if they make you other

then they really dint give a shit

liberals got problems

that the narcnarcs will mock

but when it comes to empathy

dey fucking a sock