#usagi official

[usagi-official]

What do u think about chiikawa?

Chiikawa is a dear friend to me, I enjoy their company greatly.

[usagi-official]

There is no more well-meaning Usagi. Only evil Usagi exists now.

[usagi-official]

Happy Pride Usagilites

[usagi-official]

I am evil-maxxing.

[usagi-official]

I was birthed in the dashcon ball pit.

[usagi-official]

usagi im a man but i wish to offer my soul to you do you accept

Accepted.

[usagi-official]

Hello everyone, it's been a while, hasn't it? I suppose you were all quite worried about me, thinking that the French have got me at last. If that is indeed what you thought, then I regret to inform you that you were not entirely wrong.

About 3 days after my last post (16th of April), the French came after me, about 5-6 of those baguette munchers to be exact, and I had to flee Chiikawa-land. I had to leave everything I owned in the care of my friend Chiikawa, as they're the only friend I have with a house. That, of course, included my phone, because I can't have the opps tracking me when I'm trying to flee the country (duh). Therefore, I could not post.

I left in a makeshift boat, a giant pie tin, and made my way to Chile, as I decided I was going to cross the border to Argentina to temporarily live as a hermit on Anconcagua until I felt it was safe to go home.

I had no food or water, only my giant pie tin, a blanket, and my indomitable spirit that would not be broken by escargot-loving, pin-stripe wearing freaks.

It was on those mountains that I finished the world domination manifesto I mentioned in one of my last posts before my departure, which I will be releasing to the public soon. (I have to write it out again, as all I had on the mountain was my nubs and the snow. But fret not, my memory is extremely impressive.)

Thank you to all who worried about me while I was away, I appreciate you all more than I have words to say (which means a lot, because my vocabulary is elite)

[usagi-official]

This is not sublime, everyone.

Just as I open my phone device, I go to my favourite blog on Tumbler to get some insight into if I can speak to men with an interpretor. But, where is the blog? Is it gone?

I gasp and fall to the floor, bursting into tears.

My idol, my inspiration, the prophet; Hymen Restoration Project (Also known as Bethany Rage) is missing. She vanished straight off the interweb.

"Why!" I shriek, pounding the floor. "Bethany, why have you forsaken me?"

I will now never know if I'm a true misandrist.