IF WE'RE DOING A FUCKING TRICKSTER THING I'M HUNKERING DOWN. THERE IS NO REALM OR REALITY WHERE I INDULGE IN YOUR CANDY-COATED COTERIE AND DEBASE MYSELF FOR ALL OF THE TIMELINE TO WINCE AT. MY DOORS ARE LOCKED, MY WINDOWS LATCHED. STAY. THE FUCK. BACK.
YOU CAN'T GET ME FROM BEHIND THE COMPUTER SCREEN, BUT DO *NOT* CALL ME YOUR 'LOVELY DESCENDANT'. FUCKING YUCK. I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU, NO MATTER WHETHER YOU'RE SPORTING A SUGAR RUSH OR NOT.
YOU ARE THE SINGLE MOST VISCERALLY CRINGE AND EMBARRASSING FUCKER I'VE EVER MET. WE ALIGN ON BASICALLY NOTHING, HAVE NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT, AND I FIND HOW MUCH YOU LOOK LIKE ME BUT TO THE LEFT DISTURBINGLY OFFENSIVE TO MY GANDERBULBS. I WAS HOPING TO SPARE YOUR FEELINGS ABOUT IT, BUT HEY, IF YOU'RE GOING TO ASK DIRECTLY!
DO YOU THINK THAT MAKES YOU EXEMPT FROM MY SCORN? DON'T MAKE ME FUCKING LAUGH. THE VANTAS LINE IS PERHAPS MOST UNDEFENDED FROM THE LASER CONCENTRATED BORE OF MY HATE.
i am curling up around you and growling at any tricksters! they can hang out once they come down >:c