I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS NECESSARY, BUT THE SHEER, UNMITIGATED VOLUME OF ALTSELF INCARNATIONS OF A DECIDEDLY SINGULAR ORIENTATION AND DISPOSITION TOWARD A SPECIFIC, UNNAMED STRIDER HAS REACHED A NECK-DEEP FLOOD LEVEL THAT I CAN NO LONGER IGNORE FOR MY OWN SAKE. HENCE THIS ARBITRARY STATEMENT OF MY POSITION, FOR THE POSTERITY OF HOWEVER LONG I REMAIN ON THIS CHARRED, SMOLDERING FIREPIT OF A HELLSITE. NOT TAKEN. NOT COMMITTED. FEMALES: MAY INQUIRE. MAY ASK. ALL AT YOUR OWN RISK. #TENTATIVELYNSFW #NOTREALLY #CONTAINSMULTITUDES
THIS "GENTLEMAN'S" DELIVERY, FOR YOUR CLARIFICATION, IS OF THE MOST FUNCTIONAL, MINIMALISTIC, AND STRICTLY NECESSARY DOSAGE. WE ARE TALKING MILLIGRAMS. WE ARE TALKING CCS. WE ARE TALKING THE BARE FUCKING MINIMUM OF PRACTICAL, ONLINE REPUGNANCE TO KEEP AWAY THE SLIMY, UNORIGINAL ASSUMPTIONS OF A DROOLING HORDE ACCUSTOMED TO SEEING ME WITH ONE OTHER PERSON. THAT IS ALL. FANCY SEEING YOU TURN UP AT THIS EXACT MOMENT, ON THIS EXACT POST, TOO.
It just seems like rather the nuclear approach when I doubt anyone would have held him to those expectations otherwise.
AUHHHGHGHGHHGHGHGHGHGHH--- LEAVE ME ALONE AAAAAUGH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGHGHHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGH--- HTTPS://MEDIA1.TENOR.COM/M/HSNUCAG6P8YAAAAD/AKIRA-LEAVE-ME-ALONE.GIF
SHE IS BLASTING ME WITH DAVEKAT IMAGES HELP HELP
Oh, keep your britches on for ALL intents and purposes. You happen to be the only familiar face on my evening scroll. I expect you're something of a newcomer, so I'll take this moment to enlighten you: you will witness iterations of yourself so contrived- fetched SO far from any semblance of your own identity- that it will make your melon spin. You're as liable to date [he who shall not be mentioned here, apparently] as you are to climb up before a live theatrical audience in a bedazzled pink suit. This crowd expects the unexpected at the baseline.
NEED TO REACH FOR THE IMAGE FILE ALMOST GOT IT THERE
HTTPS://CDN.IMGCHEST.COM/FILES/B025C6F4BCF9.JPG
(NOW THAT MY THINKPAN IS NO LONGER BEING BEAMED BY A JEALOUS, SPITEFUL HARPY.) MY BRITCHES, MELON, AND ALL OTHER RIDICULOUS HUMAN MISNOMERS FOR THE LOCALIZED COMPONENTS OF MY BODY — SAVE FOR MY TWO MIDDLE FINGERS, WHICH ARE BEING FLUNG IN YOUR DIRECTION WITH VELOCITY SUFFICIENT TO GENERATE A FUCKING SHOCKWAVE — ARE IN CHECK. LOCKED DOWN. RIGHT WHERE I WANT THEM. THE AFOREMENTIONED UNMENTIONABLE AND I ARE ON PERFECTLY GOOD TERMS. I AM TAKING ONE UNBOTHERSOME *MILLISECOND* OUT OF MY NIGHT TO MAKE THE PREEMPTIVE STIPULATION THAT IN MY CHAPTER OF THIS PAN-UNIVERSAL FARCE, THAT IS ALL WE ARE. EXCEPT THAT NOW I AM TAKING ADDITIONAL TIME TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU. BECAUSE YOU APPARENTLY CANNOT HELP BUT LITIGATE AN OTHERWISE INNOCUOUS CLAIM, OR THE BLACK, SLUDGY PETTINESS WILL START POURING OUT OF YOUR EARS AND THROUGH YOUR TEAR DUCTS. AND FRANKLY, I'M SURPRISED YOU CONSIDER A PINK-SUITED STAGE MUSICAL NUMBER TO BE THAT FAR INTO THE REALM OF IMPLAUSIBILITY. IT FEELS LIKE A THING YOU WOULD HAVE ASKED ME TO DO FOR ANOTHER WORTHLESS PR STUNT AGES AGO. AND THERE IS NOT A ZERO PERCENT CHANCE THAT I MIGHT — IN AT LEAST ONE VERSION OF EVENTS — CONSIDER IT.