despite being #nothing i still like to dress cute [The photo is taken from directly overhead with a harsh camera flash that flattens everything into pale glare and deep shadow. Vesica’s clothes are arranged carefully atop a stained industrial floor made of dark metal panels scratched by years of dragged furniture and chair wheels. Faint chalk markings and old adhesive residue still cling to the surface beneath the outfit. Nearby, the edge of a nutrient paste tray and several crushed energy elixir cans intrude into frame, half-cropped like they were kicked aside moments before the picture was taken. A loose bundle of cables snakes across one corner of the image. There appears to be pools of Chemononymous-addled blood dried onto the aforementioned objects. The outfit itself is almost aggressively shapeless. An oversized black sweater with stretched sleeves lies at the center, soft from overuse and slightly pilled at the cuffs. Beneath it are loose black sweatpants with faded knees and elastic gone uneven from wear. The waistband peeks open just enough to reveal hand-stitched repairs done with mismatched thread. A long charcoal undershirt is layered beneath the sweater, thin enough to almost be translucent under the flash. Off to one side are accessories arranged with strange care compared to the rest: a pair of glossy acrylic press-on nails curved into organic wave-like shapes, several rings tarnished dark with oxidation, and a black respirator mask with the filters removed. Folded beside them rests a cracked HuskHelm interface hood threaded with dangling wires and little warning labels in Alternian script. The whole thing feels less like a fashion post and more like evidence photographed at a crime scene by someone trying very hard to seem casual about it.]
DO NOT DELAY TO TELL ME THAT YOu ARE NOT DELAYING. DO YOu HAVE ANY IDEA HOW FuCKING COuNTERPRODuCTIVE. SuCH A SELF-SABOTAGINGLY STuPID MANuEVER IT IS. SIMPLY TAKE YOuR LuMPINGS. AND FALL INTO LINE. SNIVELING THING.
