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.
do your worst
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