I'm shaking. I'm fucking shaking. I never wanted to breed with anyone more than I want to with Nolan Grayson. That perfect, shredded body. The perfectly trimmed mustache. The planet conquering skills of a literal god. It honestly fucking hurts knowing that I'll never mate with him, have him pass his genes through me, and have me birth a set of perfect offspring. I'd do fucking ANYTHING for the chance for Nolan Grayson to get me pregnant. A N Y T H I N G. And the fact that I can't is quite honestly too much to fucking bear. Why would Robert Kirkman create something so perfect? To fucking tantalize us? Fucking laugh in our faces?! Honestly, I just fucking can't anymore. Fuck.
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Pulp Fiction
⠌⠊⠆⠕⠅⠕⠌⡆⣃⠪⠢⠣⡱⡑⢕⢅⢣⠱⡡⡣⡣⡣⡣⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⣀⣠⣀⢀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⡀⡀⡀⡀⡀⡀⢄⠢⢀⠄⡁⢀⠠⠄⠄⡀⠅⠈⡈⢸⢸⢪⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⣴⣿⣿⡿⣿⡟⣿⣻⣆⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠪⡐⡌⢆⢎⢢⠶⠿⠻⡟⠻⠾⠰⡕⡝⡜⣔⢕⢕⠄⡣⡣⡣⠄⠄⠄⠄⢰⣿⣿⡿⠯⠘⠄⠁⠄⠄⠉⢢⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⡊⢔⠜⡌⠎⢈⣬⣥⣤⣴⣶⠄⠄⠈⢪⡳⣕⡕⡧⡁⣇⢇⢇⠄⠄⠄⢀⣿⡏⠈⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡃⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⡨⠢⡑⡕⠄⢐⣿⣿⡿⠿⠟⢧⠄⠄⠘⣞⡞⡮⡳⡁⣇⢇⠧⠄⠄⠄⠄⢇⡂⠄⠄⠄⡄⠄⠄⠄⢠⢀⠄⠐⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠠⡑⢌⢺⡀⠰⣤⣖⣯⢶⣽⣟⠆⡄⠄⣗⡯⣯⣣⠃⣇⢇⢏⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠐⣠⡖⡦⣽⡿⢆⠄⠚⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⢐⠨⡐⣝⣇⠄⣝⣯⢭⢽⣻⡺⠅⠄⠄⣿⢽⣳⣳⠁⢱⢱⡑⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠃⠈⠢⢕⠝⠐⠄⡑⠄⣄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⣔⣅⣆⣗⢿⡀⢐⢡⢭⢼⠸⠈⠄⠄⠄⣻⣟⣷⢷⢅⡇⡇⡇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠅⠡⠄⠄⠄⠂⣊⣼⣿⠄⢠⣀⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⣿⡯⠏⠃⠋⠃⠘⣷⣄⡀⢀⣤⠆⡄⠄⠛⣛⢙⢋⠃⢗⡝⡌⠄⣠⣤⣶⣶⡲⡶⡲⡆⢒⣶⠂⣾⣿⣿⡟⠄⠄⠙⠻⡿⡶⣦⣤⡀
⠛⠈⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢻⣿⡯⢩⣿⣿⣥⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⠛⣿⣎⢇⢀⢼⠌⠪⠁⠄⢙⠽⠻⢸⠏⠐⣿⣿⣿⠇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠠⠁⠄⠠⠃
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣀⣤⣼⡿⠗⡚⢛⣯⢿⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⣯⣧⡶⠶⠇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⠄⠄⣿⣿⡿⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣝⠁⢐⣀⢁⠄⠆⠊⠚⠛⢢⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⢭⡛⠂⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡎⠄⢸⣿⣿⡇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⡧⢸⠄⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⣮⠃⠁⠈⠉⠉⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡇⠄⢸⣿⣿⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣸⣝⢈⡇⠄⠄⠬⠐⠄⠄⡼⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢰⠁⠄⢸⣿⡏⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣿⣿⡄⠁⢰⣶⣏⠄⠄⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠸⣟⠄⡁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⠄⠄⢸⣿⠃⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢰⣿⣿⠁⠄⠈⣷⣧⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣗⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⠭⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⣿⣿⠇⠄⠄⣿⡏⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡳⠄⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⡑⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⠕⡽⣿⠄⠄⠄⣿⡇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡀⠄⠄⣻⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⢠⢠⣬⣿⣻⡆⠄⠄⣿⡇⠄⠄⠄⠄⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⠄⠄⠄⢽⡂⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⠙⠛⠛⠻⠃⠄⠄⠿⠃⠄⠄⠄⠈⠁⠄⠄⠄⠈⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠪⡂⠄⠄⣸⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢠⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠘⡀⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢰⠞⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠠⢤⣀
⣷⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡶⠄⠄⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
⠟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣿⣧⡜⣾⣿⣷⢶⡠⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⠄⠄⠄⢀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⢀
⣺⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠉⠙⠄⠘⠉⠉⠉⠈⠈⠈⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⠠⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠐⠄⠄⠄⠈
⢷⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⡀⠈⠄⠄⠄
⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
American Freedom speaking to Kripp
twitchquotes:
ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴋʀɪᴘᴘ ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ғʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ ғɪʟᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴜɪɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴛ sᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғɪx ɪᴛ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴏᴠᴇʀ. sɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇʟʏ *** ****. ᴘʟs ɴᴏ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴀʟ ᴘᴀᴄɪɴᴏ ***ɪɴᴏ ****ʀɪɴᴏ.
twitch chat
Kripp
I'm Summit1g, and this is my stream
twitchquotes:
I'm Summit1g, and this is my stream. I PUBG here with my man JoshOG. Everything in here has a story and a meme. One thing I've learned after 5 years - you never know WHO is gonna camp at the other side of that bridge.
twitch chat
Summt1g
PlayerUnknown's Battlegrounds
Kreygasm
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Infinite poop
twitchquotes:
Infinite poop. You sit on the toilet to poop, but the poop never stops coming out of your butt. You have to start flushing the toilet every two minutes to keep up. You try to pinch your butt closed but that makes your insides hurt. The poop accelerates. You call 911. The paramedics call for doctors. The doctors call for specialists. The story trends on Twitter. You turn down talk show appearances. Your septic tank fails. People form a cult. Your toilet is finished. Volunteers arrive with buckets and shovels. You are completely used to the smell. The poop accelerates. You are moved to a stepladder with a hole in the top step. The poop accelerates. The shovelers abandon the buckets and shovel directly out the window. The poop accelerates. A candlelight vigil forms around your house. One of the workers falls over and can't free himself. The poop accelerates. A priest knocks over the stepladder and tackles you out the window. You land in the pile. The poop accelerates. The force now propels you forward and upward. Vigil goers grab at your legs. The poop ignites from their candles. The Facebook live event hits 1 million viewers. The poop accelerates. You are 30 feet in the air. The fire engulfs the vigil and your house. 60 feet. The poop accelerates. The torrent underneath you is deafening. 5 million Facebook live viewers. You try to close up shop but your butthole disintegrated long ago. 120 feet up. Your house explodes. The poop accelerates. 1000 feet. You are now tracked on radar. You try to change your angle of ascent but you should have thought of that way earlier. The poop accelerates. 4,000 feet. NORAD upgrades to DEFCON 3. Concentric circles of fire engulf your city. The poop accelerates. You have broken the sound barrier. 30,000 feet. You no longer take in enough oxygen to sustain consciousness. 60,000 feet. CNN is reporting on all the world records you've broken. 200,000 feet. You are no longer alive. The poop accelerates. Your body disintegrates but your poop contrail remains. NASA can no longer track you. You break the light-speed barrier and we can no longer bear witness. The poop accelerates. Forever.
twitch chat