#iinore

[occtava-blog]

iinore

                             “ QUINTA ! ”

     The word rang out above his usual measured volume, as if      greeting an old FRIEND. As much as Szayel Aporro valued       careful alliance, the Fifth was hardly ‘ CAREFUL ’, and their       only alliance to speak of had been short-lived.  Besides, he      reasoned,   behind thin smiles and narrowed eyes,  Caesar      had had FRIENDS, too, and where had THAT gotten him ? 

         It was far safer to rely on himself alone, and on          the small comforts careful planning and thorough,          comprehensive testing could bring him. And now           that Yylfordt had been DONE AWAY WITH, Szayel           Aporro was forced to resort to mingling with the          DREGS of society, like some sort of common man,           if he wanted subjects he did not have to grow in          a Petri dish. 

                    CLOSER, CLOSER . . .  

         Surely someone seated as high as FIFTH wouldn’t           hardly notice a few harmless parasites here and           there. 

    JUST A BIT FURTHER . . . 

           CLICK.

                “ Wonders never cease.                    What brings you here ? ”

[occtava-blog]

THIS WEEKEND AND NEXT WEEK, i will have time to queue up starters. i’m trying something new. since getting starter calls attention is like pulling teeth, here is what i am doing: 

new mutuals: 

ichikaras

caeruleus-excidium

godkilller

iinore

like  this  post  if  you  are  on  the  list  and  you  D O    N O T  want a long starter.      i repeat:   if you like the post,      i WILL NOT make a starter.              otherwise, i start drafting starters for my new mutuals. if you want the starter, just DO NOTHING. 

[occtava-blog]

iinore

            “ To what do I                 owe the . . .                 PLEASURE,                       Quinta ? ”

[nihillmancer-archive-blog]

   ♛ | ancient relics, citadels

   gold plated in the reflections of time im-    -memorial and in memorial grave -- dug    up with naught but the creaking sighs of    dust to pummel the heavens and jewel to    besmirch the pallid values of bones upon    bones upon bones. theirs is no shame, to    be counted amongst sarcophagi unearthed,    for they are truly not of that world but trans-    -cendent to such higher planes. theirs is no    need for the inflated infatuations of speed,    of tower qualities which end in only rubble    and windstorms the gods spindle with laughter    to bring down stone from mortared stone, the    strength of their flesh. what guarantee is there    for those who are not explicitly of godhood?    false shepherds, the disciples their own scythes.    behold, modernity at its finesse; speaketh of    strength and giveth the shine of crescents, flay    him underneath the moon he so desires and let    his inked tongue loll from his lips like quicksand.