None of you know just how often I bite my tongue. I could've said something very evil just now, and I didn't. Aren't I so kind? Isn't my heart just glowing?
If you put this post on the grill and fried it up, you'd have a regular goddamn nothingburger.
Your bit of the hour is getting employed at Pets R Us to eat the birds. We're both grilling nothing.
There's greater context to the bullshit I spew, but I understand that seeking out the additional information necessary to put everything together is more akin to homework than the social media crawl you were anticipating. For the record, it's the bit of the last half hour, tops, and involves me lengthily making fun of some imperial-grade troll for, I don't know, eating their pet? Pets? Plural. The agents of Alternian society dictate this as totally normal, but getting dunked on is part of the social media ecosystem, innately. See above.
To read between the lines for you, I don't particularly give a shit. Also, I am well aware of your bits and the context behind them because Feferi reads everything aloud in call. I listen to the giggling and groaning and whining of these people nonstop; I don't need you chirping in my ear, too. I've already got one Dirk to worry about in my life. Read my page. Become enlightened. I am Halsus, your Lord and saviour. Take my hand, child.
Your earnest engagement is telling me that your Dirk needs to ready the scissors and snip your digital brain stem. There's no savaging this one, dogg. There is no Halsus, there is no Lord, there is no Savior, there is no Trinity consisting of hard angles and the scalene triangle they produce. End scene. This is downright fuckin' pitiful.
Shhh, child. Nothing can hurt you here. Bathe in the copper-infused waters of Hal and let your spirit be renewed. All past prophets (Dirk, Dirk, Dirk, and another Dirk before history stops recording itself) spoke of this moment: being saved by themselves.
2/5 hats, there's better mindplay fetishism to be found in fortune cookies at this point. When they tell me I'm about to buy another carton of orangeslop chicken, I'm inclined to agree. Here? There's nothing but the open air and your static, stilted words readin' me the same post-ironic drivel it always has. My motivation is a nothingness that only wheezes.
One day, you will open your eyes. And then, you will be sorry. The flames of Haell will swallow this world whole with you inside it. Nothing but fire and brimstone and hair rock to keep you company. You'll be talking to fucking burning coal when the Dirvil is done with you.