I realized

Oh, I'm sorry, everyone, I forgot to introduce myself. Not really. I really don't care about any of you. My name is Dawson Jameson. I'm 26. I'm an Apostle. That's right, I talk to the big man himself. The Archangel.
Before we continue, let me be very clear on one thing.
I.
HATE.
DANIEL THOMPSON.
That little shit almost cost my career as a high-ranking timberwolf because I "failed to keep out intruders" eat shit, Thompson, and that goes double for your slut of a Mistress. She belongs in the front of a department store, not in a Tower in the Empty City.
I know you're going to read this Thompson, so keep in mind this one thing. I'm reading your blog. When you least expect it, that's when I'll strike, and you won't even see it coming. I know, I'm putting my plan for you to see. Because I want you to be afraid. I want you to sleep with one eye open. I want you to look behind you. I want you to be afraid to leave the safety of your tower, your room. Because I'll be waiting. It could be a shot from the top of a random building, or a knife in the back, but you're going to die, Thompson, and I'll enjoy every minute of it. I'll be the one grinning down as you bleed out on your back. I'll be the one to cut off your dick and shove it in your mouth and watch you choke it down with your dying breathes. I'll be the last thing you ever see. Who knows? I might bring along one of those Blood Vessels you love so much, so you can see your two favorite things as you die!
Also, besides that, Lydia or whatever, you seem to not like timberwolves. However, I'm sure that if you saw what was under THIS gas mask, you'd change your mind. I've made lesbians straight, I can surely get you to like me.

Embrace The Archangel.