Log from September 22nd:
You know what I love?
Well, a lot of things.
You know what I don't love, aside from stop signs (seriously, how dare they make 'red' mean 'stop'. I mean, have they met me?) and poorly-written porn? People trying to take my things.
This morning, my Priestess is quiet, and you know what they say; communication is the key to any relationship. Seeing as I don't 'do relationships' I went the sneaky route instead. Turns out she's packed up most of her things and she's been perusing comments left by a particular fuck-bag who, if I'm not mistaken, is talking pretty big for a guy on the run.
Also happened to notice that someone among my Scarlet-marked ranks gave him an account on this site. What the actual fuck, guys. Was I not perfectly clear about the loathing?
In any case, I've actually gotten pissed to the point of directing all of my Marked your way, Russ. I'm sure you're reading this, and I can only hope that in the time it takes to make it through this latest log, they've hunted you down and slit you open sideways.