- Pronouns
- 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 / 𝖘𝖍𝖊
I’ll get right to the point:
Pokémon are not ugly enough
you spit out your lovingly aged pimm’s cup and toss its goblet into the sea from the stern of your yacht
“𝓈𝓊𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓋𝑒,” you say, “𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓊𝑔𝓁𝓎 𝒫𝑜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓉 𝑀𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈”
feh! by the standards of fools!
is what I, warbound athena, retort from olympus on high
there is truth in what you say, though. I see it in your welling eyes. fixated on the spark, I soften my next blow:
“conviction. good. you will need it for the struggle to come.”
it wasn’t always so dire, you know. in the 𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝕬𝖌𝖊 we were tethered to imagination by fidelity’s pixel — graced by such beasts:
so near horrific beauty, near the inimitable esteem of disgust.
a glimmer of hope. a brighter path.
but success lifted its horned head from the soil and charged forth. it gored them all, every last game freak, swiftly and without recourse.
the pierced are honor-bound to slump. our falling angels, wings burning away, plunged towards the refined and adjourned. the sandblasted smooth nothings of this pitiful future.
all efforts to be ugly…
are betrayed by truth.
and all opportunities to be ugly…
are betrayed by choice.
but not all is lost... not even now. though we are hampered by the 𝕯𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖎𝖝𝖙𝖍 𝕬𝖌𝖊, we still have hope.
because though the damned have not graced us with truly ugly creatures, their creatures can be made ugly in extended canon
and though it is not 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖑𝖊, it’s a miracle nonetheless
so you stare out to sea, bob and sway. you will the goblet to return. you will it to fill once more.
the yacht is sinking into my undeniable truth. the mountain goes silent.
“𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈,” you say, ocean at your thighs.
“𝒾𝒻 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓊𝑔𝓁𝓎”
this post made in consideration of the Shitpost Bonanza. @Maronic03
Pokémon are not ugly enough
you spit out your lovingly aged pimm’s cup and toss its goblet into the sea from the stern of your yacht
“𝓈𝓊𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓋𝑒,” you say, “𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓊𝑔𝓁𝓎 𝒫𝑜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓉 𝑀𝑜𝓃𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈”
feh! by the standards of fools!
is what I, warbound athena, retort from olympus on high
there is truth in what you say, though. I see it in your welling eyes. fixated on the spark, I soften my next blow:
“conviction. good. you will need it for the struggle to come.”
it wasn’t always so dire, you know. in the 𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝕬𝖌𝖊 we were tethered to imagination by fidelity’s pixel — graced by such beasts:
so near horrific beauty, near the inimitable esteem of disgust.
a glimmer of hope. a brighter path.
but success lifted its horned head from the soil and charged forth. it gored them all, every last game freak, swiftly and without recourse.
the pierced are honor-bound to slump. our falling angels, wings burning away, plunged towards the refined and adjourned. the sandblasted smooth nothings of this pitiful future.
all efforts to be ugly…
are betrayed by truth.
and all opportunities to be ugly…
are betrayed by choice.
but not all is lost... not even now. though we are hampered by the 𝕯𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖎𝖝𝖙𝖍 𝕬𝖌𝖊, we still have hope.
because though the damned have not graced us with truly ugly creatures, their creatures can be made ugly in extended canon
and though it is not 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖑𝖊, it’s a miracle nonetheless
so you stare out to sea, bob and sway. you will the goblet to return. you will it to fill once more.
the yacht is sinking into my undeniable truth. the mountain goes silent.
“𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈,” you say, ocean at your thighs.
“𝒾𝒻 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓊𝑔𝓁𝓎”
this post made in consideration of the Shitpost Bonanza. @Maronic03
