See l33 ramble. Ramble, l33, ramble.

( I've thoughtfully put the TMI first, under a cut. )

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Note for Highly Sensitive People: For the love of all that is holy, please, please, please grow a thicker skin. Welcome to scenic Reality, where it is not about you OR your Pweshus Feeeeewings, and where contrary to popular belief, not everything is a personal affront. I'm sick of constantly kowtowing to you and trying to soothe your ruffled feathers, and I'm not doing it anymore.

Oh, and rather than kiss all your boo-boos better, I really, really enjoy making it difficult for you horrible overgrown bawlbabies to live. It makes me feel like I've really done something worthwhile with my life.

And if one of you reads this and decides to share your feelings with me, expect to be summarily mocked.

Of Rose Bushes and Lost Fairy Wings

If you loved me, you'd write me some Communist slash.

PLLLLLLLLZZZZZZZZ?

PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ?

(And nobody point me to the Marx/Engels fic; I already know about it.)