♣ mediated by @abstractCollector
that's how an alternian do
၄⋆၃ im xool with it bexause its not my blood #silly
hopy $hit
r̶e̷s̴c̵u̶e̸ ̴m̶i̴s̶s̵i̷o̶n̴
⦓ Don't go to the places where the memories are that's where the memories are. Except here I am. In my hive. Where the memories are. Except the ones I can't even recall because they were taken from me. There's a whole floor I don't even go in. There's bloodstains I can't scrub out. Things are missing that should have been there. I don't sleep in my respiteblock anymore because it reminds me of her, and I never look at the stairs going up to the gates because the damage done to them reminds me of the final fight. ⦔ ⦓ ... Ugh. Floor time again I guess. What else can I even do? What else even is there? And I feel like shit because its not Eve or Thisle's fault but also since we're currently living together its not like they can avoid me when I'm in these moods... ⦔ ⦓ I think I might be a terrible roommate. Fuck. ⦔ ⦓ Do you think if I lie on the floor for long enough I will become something with worth? Don't answer that... ⦔
Though perh★ps now th★t I h★ve #mysoulbl★de this will be mitig★ted.
M★ybe, m★ybe. I w★s thinking of just destroying my br★in ★nd then finding ★ w★y to destroy the destruction.
I like women ★nd ★re neutr★l on igu★n★s ★ctu★lly.
Hmm. I think I have heard about that guy.
I'm kind of just munching popcorn about it.
:)
a thou⚡︎and mile⚡︎
Attention, The matter has officially concluded. Captain Mirith was victorious. There is no way to refuse the official record of the Duel, as I have also been made to file it myself. He was prepared, as I required. He pressed with force, capitalized on an opening I should not have so freely offered, and disarmed me before the assembled Witnesses. He was swift to have me bent and weakly holding onto my blade in front of the spectators. The field received enough of my hue to satisfy whatever appetite the Captain had chosen. I find it very moving that Captain Mirith was able to pReserve, through all that sweat, pressure, exertion, pinning, slickness, breathlessness, consumption, and thorough satisfaction, the presence of mind to assure the public that this was merely a Duel. His dedication to martial clarity remains one of his more theatrical virtues. Still, I will grant him this: he earned the right to gloat. He may keep it for as long as he can carry it elegantly. As for a rematch, I will consider the matter when I am done considering the failures I made. A rematch is a vulgar word, as opposed to the truth of the matter. It will be a necessary correction. I have considered the weight of his blade, and the pressure he exerted when he placed it upon my face. I recall the precise moment my guard was forced open for far too long. His breach of my sanctity is the only honest thing he has ever done in his position of office. It would be easy to pretend my interest is purely procedural. That I seek only to restore balance, amend the record, and demonstrate that a single defeat does not settle the quality of an Officer. All of that is true, of course. Unfortunately, truth can be very indecent when arranged correctly. I remember the impact. I remember the heat of my own hue spilling where it had no permission to be. I remember the Captain above me, unkind enough to be beautiful in victory, watching my composure come apart one measured breath at a time. I remember my face marked by the consequence of him, stained until even dignity had to look away. One does not forget being opened so thoroughly before Witnesses. One also does not forgive it. So yes, Captain Mirith may rest assured that I am thinking long and hard about a rematch. I am thinking of his blade. I am thinking of the place it found me. I am thinking of whether, when next it pierces through my defense, I will permit the expression on my face to be mistaken for surrender. Or whether I will make him earn that misunderstanding twice. That is right. I will be coming for you, Captain Mirith (@diligentAcquisitions). I will keep coming for you until I catch you. Then, you will come for me. Our game of meowbeast and squeakbeast will continue until one of us is dead, or worse. For the sake of Chittr's Content Policy: #NSFW, as our blades are rather violent and cause chaos in the Reserve Offices of the Threshecutioners. #Violence for violence. Signed and Ratified, Marech Veylor 1st Officer of the Threshecutioner Reserve
Jack Beam
There isssss a reassssson it isssss a prince.
Me ★nd me hole in sp★ce don't like wh★t you s★id very much.
.shit quality chocolatE .mint zanzibar swirl is betteR .with brownie chunkS .for real discount budget mint chiP .LAMEEEEEEe
... I'VE BEEN CHECKING THE CLOCK FOR AT LEAST TEN KARKAT HOURS, NOW. NORMALLY, I WOULDN'T COMMIT THE UNSPEAKABLE WORKPLACE BLUNDER OF LOOKING AT *ANY* TIMEPIECE IN THIS SAW TRAP MANOR, BUT SOMETHING KEEPS KNIFING ME IN THE WRONG THORASSIC PROTECTIVE BONE CURVATURE. IT'S 6/12. WHY IS IT STILL 6/12. IT CAN'T *STILL* BE 6/12. CAN IT?
I'm Not Sure. Perhaps I Could Attempt, Not Exactly The Smartest Move However.
al$o we ¢an definitely al¢hemize you more $udoku
damn... not even a h1nt of self care...
but i ¢an 🪷
i didn't $ay he own$ them i $aid you ¢an't be one
Oh th★t's me I think, sorry.
√(He's like if Mallum was snivelly and didn't get better basically. Have at 'im)²
Keep having visions of horrible actors outside my field of view guiding my every action, maybe I should lay off the liquor for a while #substance #nightterrors
H★ve something to s★y Cooper?
uh yeah actually That's a lot