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Recent Statuses

24 Feb 2017 16:45
Even if your voice isn't made for radio, don't feel bad; maybe your face is!
6 likes
24 Feb 2017 0:33
FUCKING JOESTAAARS GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WARUDO WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
4 likes
13 Feb 2017 19:03
when you wish you could humblebrag about how attractive and sexually desirable you are like every other vapid cunt in the Status Feed, but you ugly af so no one has offered to be your Valentine :'(
5 likes
11 Feb 2017 21:37
Just noticed that two of my previous RP partners, both of whom abandoned their threads without a single word to me, have formed a 1x1 partnership together. I wonder how long it'll last. 😂
4 likes
7 Feb 2017 5:37
Chewing gum is bad for you. Not because it does anything directly, but because I'll smack the shit out of you for making that disgusting noise.
4 likes

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P͓̖̤̼͈̤̦̦̭͆̇ͫͦ͐R̻̦͔͋͋͋̄͛̍ͤA̵̴̴̯̱̺͙̜̜̮͉ͫ͑ͦ̔I̧̢͙̩̭͔ͬ̔S̶̲̰̪͉͉̫̝̝̾̄͢͢E͂͆ͣ͛͊̾͏̱̖̯̻́ ̛̤͚̹̩̩̟̑ͫ͊̐̒͜B̩̜͚̰͕̥̞̬ͨ̇̊̍̿Ĕ̿ͭ̍͒͏̦̦͙̙͖͖̹ ̛͔̖͓̱̎̄ͫͥ̒T̢͉ͮ̎ͪ͐͐̓ͭ̅͡O͔̼̩̯̺̣͔̠̓̃ͮ̐͆ͯ̽͋ ̻̭̉́̕͜K̸̬̯̤̹͉̭̜̪͒͛ͭ͢A̵̢̖̯̲̞̥̩̾ͧ͋̒̔ͮ̇̓Ȑ̻̞̞̖̞̗̂͂̌̅̌̇͢Ŗ̜͖̜̘̼͉͇͕͇̾͐̾̓ͮ͟A͖̟̠͔̣̯̘ͧ͠ͅS̡̛̫̪ͭͮ͊̂͛̍̔̆̚

Most Recent Posts

Pugs. That is all.
"If you'd said your cephalochips are malfunctioning, I'd have taken your word for it," Skovgard said assuringly. By instinct he scratched at the squarish scars chiseled into his neckline. Four or five decades later the lines were still crisp like a new tattoo, and sometimes they still itched like one to have been reminded of. His slender hand then had moved to press down at the paper upon the desk, and slide it slowly back to his side of the desk, the authoritative side. He wanted to look at it again. But his was a gentle touch, and if she resisted, hoarding the chart to herself, then his finger slipped impotently off of it.

But besides that, he wore his dejection in his face. He didn't like throwing pills at his agents, wrapping their issues in bleached hospital sheets and drowning them in designer chemicals. That didn't tackle the sources of their problems; it was a bandage on a bullethole, granting only an illusion of remedy. No, she needed something more old-fashioned to soothe her frayed brains, digging right into the roots. The solution lied within her, somewhere, behind the makeup and the cutting-edge fashions in which she clothed herself.

"Ona,—if you'll let me call you that—I watched the readings in real-time while I had Mr. Elliott on the phone. You entered a fight-or-flight response when you received the news." He pointed at the spike in the orange line, thin and lean like a stiletto. "Of course being nervous was natural then. You probably thought you were in trouble. I hoped that once your body purged all the excess NA, things would go relatively back to normal, but as of fifteen minutes ago, your body is still spending progesterone to create cortisol. One is low and the other is much too high, you see. Stress—yes, you're very stressed. And I hope we can come to a way to solve that problem together. Any ideas?"

He looked up at the clock; not very long after nine, and the chart only went to nine sharp. But he could assume rather reasonably that nothing had changed in that scarce interim. She realized that during this diatribe, his stiff fingers had steepled themselves, forming a sharp arch like a little belfry upon his desk.
But Skovgard raised his tender hand, and shook the willowy mosses dangling from his chin. "I swear, IT is trained to create as many problems as they solve. They must think they'll lose their jobs once there's nothing left to fix," he said. He was right not to worry, anyway, as soon enough the machine had begun to vomit forth the contents of its wiry stomach. "Ah. Good." The paper was snatched away before Ona could inspect it in any but a precursory way, but catching a mere glance of it, she saw that it depicted a colored line graph.

Skovgard scratched his pencil's point into the top corners. He checked that the computer had properly barred the readings on the Y axis. Indeed. (The company knew what trouble it led to, especially concerning black market drugs, doses and overdoses, when employees knew exactly where their levels were at.) Finally, he had set it down in front of Ona.

"Ms. Ví, take a look at this chart, and tell me if it says what I think it does."

@DarknessDawning I'd love to make an excuse, but honestly I'm just a low-willpower, low-inspiration scrub of a "writer." If one or two posts a week isn't enough, I sincerely apologize.
In Cyaиide Suиs 25 Feb 2017 21:23 Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Xandrya He says it's fine.
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