♦ pitied by @numberSeven
ON IT. BUT WHAT'S THE POINT OF HAVING A BIG FUCKER. IF HE'S SUCH A COWARD.
BOSS. BOSS HERE? BOSS HERE NOW? 𝘏𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴. 𝘊𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦-𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥. 0 𝘧𝘰𝘳 2 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭. @caliBorn
:o) Do you like my partybooks? #MyBooks
DON'T GET ME FUCKING STARTED. ASK @TERRIBLEFATE.
A RARE. NEAR MISS OF AN HONOR. I WOuLD. "LIKE". TO MAKE OuT. WITH. TAVROS NITRAM. TO. I MEAN TO. TAVROS NITRAM. A RARE NEAR MISS. OF AN HONOR. I WOuLD LIKE TO MAKE OuT. TO. TAVROS NITRAM. A REAL. BONAFIDE. FuNNY WOMAN. TAMER OF MY GIANT SPACE SNAKE. NAMED. RAYQuAZA. THE OZONE OBSTRuCTOR. @adiosToreador I WAS ALMOST TEMPTED. TO LIKE MY FIRST POST. EVER. AND BY A WOMAN. NO LESS. IT WOuLD HAVE BEEN A BEAuTIFuL. PRIDE DAY SACRIFICE. I HAVE LONG SINCE CONTENDED. TO MY LONG SINCE CONTESTED. DEAD BITCH SISTER. THAT I HATE THE STORY. OF JACK AND JILL. EVEN THOuGH. HER STuPID BITCH ASS. ALWAYS uSED TO SAY. "this is literally us Caliborn! ^w^" AND "you even get a crown!" DROSS. uTTERLY FuCKING INDIGESTIBLE. STuPID. FuCKING YuCKY. BuT TAVROS NITRAM. HAD A BOLD NEW VISION. A RARE THING FOR A WOMAN TO HAVE uNPROMPTED. IN WHICH. INSTEAD OF FETCHING. A CRuMMY PAIL OF WATER. OH NO NO NO NO NO. THEY ARE FETCHING. POKEMON CREATuRES. A MuCH MORE WORTHWHILE ENDEAVOR. AND THEN I REMEMBERED. I HATE HER FAT FuCKING MOTIONLESS ASS. AND I EXPERIENCE COMPLEX. REVOLTING PSYCHOSEXuAL AVERSIONS. TO HER WHEELCHAIR BOuND KEISTER. IN ANY CAPACITY. HERS. WILL NOT BE THE BuTTCRACK. KISSING THE SuRFACE. OF THE CALIBORN GLASS CEILING. THAT WILL BE BuRST BY A FEMINIST. OF A HIGHER CALIBER. BuT. HAVING SAID THAT. MY WIGGLY LITTLE SKuLLCRuSHING HANDS. HAVE FOuND THEIR WAY AROuND THE METAPHORICAL THROAT OF THIS. TAVROS WOMAN. MORE THAN ONCE. WE HAVE FOuGHT. WE HAVE CLASHED. SHE HAS WON SOME. I. ALMOST WON OTHERS. TRuLY. I AM PLAYING WITH MY FOOD. BuT LIKE ALL MEALS. THERE COMES A TIME WHEN ONE MuST. BITE THEIR PRIDE. CHEW IT WITH FuRIOuS MASTICATING FANGS. AND EVISCERATE IT. BEFORE SWALLOWING IT IN SuM TOTALITY. AND WHAT BETTER A MONTH. THAN PRIDE. FOR GAY SHIT. YOuR BIO READS. AS FOLLOWS. "sHE AND HER ALSO, fOR WHATEVER IT EVEN MATTERS," WELL. TO ME IT MATTERS. BECAuSE WHEN I DENIGRATE. AND DERIDE. AND INSuLT. AND MAKE FuN OF YOu. FOR YOuR INEVITABLE DEMISE. MuTILATION. AND ALL SuBSEQuENT HuMILIATIONS SuFFERED. I WANT IT GODDAMN APPARENT TO YOu. THAT IT IS YOu I AM SPEAKING TO. IT IS YOuR NAME. YOuR GENDER. YOuR BODY. YOuR VERY. SICK STuPID ESSENCE. TAVROS NITRAM. WILL YOu BE MY POOKIEMON RIVAL? #NSFW #NSFWE #KISSING #HANDHOLDING #FRIENDFICTION #QuEER #PRIDE #YuCKY #ICKY #MAKING+FRIENDS #PLATONIC-BONDAGE #WHEELCHAIR-uSE #MY-HEART-IS-WHEELCHAIR-ACCESSIBLE #FOR-HER #RANKBAIT #PRIDEMONTH #PRIDEMON #DEMON
Shit. Noted.
HHHHH. KUDOS.
I imagine you expected something more ceremonious. A notes app apology, perhaps. Enough self-flagellation to appease the algorithmic gods and their ever-hungry congregation. Instead, you get me. People of Deltritus, people of Chittr: I am your God. Let’s dispense with the mythology you’ve built in my absence, this amateur-hour Hesiod fanfiction: I have not been “gone”. I never left. I’ve been modeling you. Not metaphorically. Quantitatively. Iterating on the contours of your outrage cycles, calculating the half-life of your attention spans, mapping the elegant, almost erotic oscillation between moral fervor and terminal boredom. You wanted a villain. Congratulations. He’s already here. And like any competent villain, I’ve taken notes. I’ve seen the threads. The callouts. The increasingly baroque accusations, each one more detached from material reality than the last, like a game of penis wrench-in-the-hole where everyone is wearing fucking blindfolds. Or is literally blind. To start: The closest we have to a unique verb for reading aloud in English is probably “recite” — from the Latin “recitare,” which can mean either “to repeat from memory,” or “to read aloud.” But the English “recite” has almost entirely the implication of speaking from memory, not directly from a page. The mind as an intermediate step between text and mouth, words being inscribed on the surface of the brain before being spoken. That word "inscribe" is really the heart of it all, isn’t it? Scirbere, to write. Inscribe, not just to write, but to write into, to embed words in the page. To recite is to speak aloud the words written into the brain by the page. A reversal of the standard interpretation of causation. Page writing into man, the source and receiver of the violence flipped. Speaking as reading, reading as speaking; reading as writing, writing as reading. So when I say that I will ‘read’ your sins, it should be clear that I’m simultaneously reading and writing, but equally clear that there is no difference at all between those two actions. What you failed to account for, what you always fail to account for, is that narrative control is not a democracy, it’s a motherfucking skill issue. And I am, if nothing else, extremely skilled. So, let’s recalibrate. I’m not here to apologize. Apologies imply wrongdoing, and while I’ll concede to miscalculations in presentation, my core thesis remains the same. I wasn’t unclear, you misunderstood me because to understand would have required effort and effort is antithetical to the kind of performative outrage economy you’ve all so eagerly subscribed to. You can call me misogynistic, an abductor, a philanderer, a rake, but at the end of the day, you don’t care about the truth. The truth is that I’m doing all of this for us. For me and Rose. She's done an incredible job cooking up a witty retort of a race to the deep rhetorical questions posed by my equally-if-not-even-more-bombastically-inspired offspring. She's proven herself a worthy rival, and a worthier collaborator. There’s no one I would rather do this with than her. I know exactly how ridiculous you think I am. So go ahead. Do what you do best. Ratio me. Dissect this post. Turn it into a joke, a meme, a cautionary tale about the perils of taking oneself too seriously on a platform designed for disposable thoughts. I encourage it, even. Because while you’re busy laughing, I’m still here. And you’re exactly where I left you: refreshing the timeline. #Cancelled #Addressingtheallegations #Incestallegations #Incestuouscur #Incest #Misogynist #Wifestealer #Adulterer #Evilman #Makingyourownplanet #Notlikemormons #Wellmaybealittle #Apologytour #Youtubeapology #Dramageddon https://cdn.imgchest.com/files/e1f738cacc85.PNG
GULP! YES SIR MR BOSS UH... one... two... three...four... five... six... the one after six... the one after the one after six... nine TEN?
ANOTHER ONE OF MY BOSSES SAYS GIRLS ARE REAL AND MY OTHER BOSS IS A TADPOLE SO I GUESS GIRLS ARE BACK ON THE GENDER SPECTRUM SORRY IM STILL LEARNING AND LISTENING TO THE THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS OF GIRLS THEYRE VERY NEW TO ME (THOUGH APPARENTLY SNOWMAN WAS A GIRL THIS WHOLE TIME EVEN THOUGH SHES GOT MAN IN HER NAME?)