Occred
Misha   Wisconsin, United States
 
 
:cswork: the most esoteric schizoid lainpilled hobbit in the dollar tree parking lot :lunar2019piginablanket:
Skjermbildeutstilling
The Behemoth Planetcraft challenges the Automated Dreadnought. The torch passes to a new generation of empire - swiftly, ruthlessly.
3
Nylig aktivitet
20 timer totalt
sist spilt den 21. nov.
1 586 timer totalt
sist spilt den 19. nov.
5,6 timer totalt
sist spilt den 18. nov.
Prestasjoner   10 av 59
Sjoji 13. jan. 2021 kl. 5.58 
Suri is Best Girl
Grand 15. feb. 2020 kl. 14.25 
"No mo' thumpin'."
Grand 15. feb. 2020 kl. 14.25 
PART II: Until today. This morning was my father's funeral. At the procession, my brother asked me to say a few words. I told him I only needed one. With confidence, I approached the podium. I gazed out upon the gathering of sad faces. I cleared my throat and leaned into the microphone. "Yeet," I spake. Suddenly, my father leapt from his hand-crafted mahogany coffin, the gunshot wound still in his chest. He sprinted up to the podium with the energy of a man without a gunshot wound in his chest. "Y'all hittin' that dirty ♥♥♥♥♥♥' yeet at my funeral?" he ejaculated. He raised his hand to thump me. "Not so fast, pa." I grabbed his hand. "Yaint thumpin' no mo'." My father looked at me with eyes as open as the gunshot wound in his chest. A tear fell from his right eye.
Grand 15. feb. 2020 kl. 14.25 
One day, when I was still but a wee lad, I became curious. I was in my room, watching Instagram videos of fellas my age hittin' that yeet all over town without a care in the world. My intentions got the better of me. I stood up, my knees trembling. Carefully, I leaned onto my right foot and raised my hand in the air. I breathed in. "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!" My father burst from my closet. "I told you I'd thump ya if I ever caught you hitting that yeet, ♥♥♥♥♥," he ejaculated. Then, he thumped me. I haven't hit that yeet since.
Grand 15. feb. 2020 kl. 14.25 
I was born into a family of non-yeeters.

Every morning before I went to school my father would say, "if I ever find out that you've hit that yeet, I'll thump ya." "Yes, pa," I would always reply. It was a regular occurrence for him to burst into my room unannounced while I was relaxing or doing my homework. "Y'all hitting that yeet?" he would seeth. "No, pa," I would answer. "Good." He would then walk out of the room and shout, "if I ever catch ya, it's a thumpin'." It was a difficult upbringing. I had seen my friends hittin' that yeet at school, and many of them encouraged me to partake. I would swallow my pride. "No, thanks. I don't want to catch a thumpin' from pa." As a result, I was an outcast. A loner. I became depressed, knowing that I would never be like my peers, that I would never fit in - I would never hit that yeet.
Occred 26. juli 2018 kl. 17.36 
Who am I kidding? It's pretty awful.