Says the poor brainless console peasant. No mods, no money to achieve high performance, no creativity to set up your own devices. Calling me pathetic lol, I actually work and gather money for Gaming PC whilst you console peasants probably beg to your parents for buying you a console. So tell me, have you been a good brat by doing house chores?
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas
ForsenE Don't talk to me or my son ever again
twitchquotes:
don't talk to me or my son ever again 
don't talk to me or my son ever again
twitch chat
Forsen
Ben Shapiro YouTube title (not clickbait)
Ben Shapiro TRIGGERS and DESTROYES a libtard so hard WITH LOGIC AND FACTS that the libtrads brain IMPLODES and collapses INTO A FUCKING BLACK HOLE and that BLACK HOLE sucks up THE ENTIRE SOLAR SYSTEM and WIPES OUT ALL KNOWN LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE (triggered sjw compilation) (not clickbait)
Ben Shapiro
SpongeBob is asexual (spoilers)
SpongeBob is asexual
No this isn’t some lgbtq+ stuff
He’s a fucking sea sponge
They reproduce asexually
Qt has finally reached rank one
twitchquotes:
The year is 2050, league is played by less than 100 people. Qt has finally reached rank one, "Lisha I did it!" he yells excitedly. The sound echoes through the empty mansion. Lisha left long ago...
twitch chat
imaqtpie
Classic
League of Legends
It's not gay with socks on
When I was 13 years old a buddy of mine tried to convince me to fool around. I wasn't into it, and he told me it's not gay if you're wearing socks. I didn't believe him, went home, and asked my dad.
That's 'gentleman's gay', hardly gay at all. Don't see it much these days.
The 50s were a different time. What were we to do? We were typical boarding school boys, rich with vigor, skin slick with drying sweat and gritty earth from a game of pigskin.
At night our young, virile bodies filled the dorm with sweet-musky vapors, like game-meat stewed with apple and peppercorn. You'd awake in darkness to the hushed, melodic rhythm of two pairs of white tube socks, barely visible in moonlight, bouncing on the hardwood floor.
The deep bond of male friendship played like a thousand different human instruments. The wet claps of skin on skin, the gentle thud of heads on backboards, frenzied cries in the throes of climax. Wilbur, so fat and soft like tapioca pudding. His breasts were so like the real thing, what we fantasized of our future wives. Unwilling, defenseless Wilbur, so slow and uncoordinated in the dark. 10 of us would glaze his bare, pink flesh like a giant raspberry danish. He once had the audacity to tell Headmaster Redford. But Redford was a Deerfield boy once, he understood. So he joined us on our midnight hog hunts.
Through college and years after we'd find time here and there, away from the wives at a family lake house. But it's been decades now - the times have certainly changed. If you wanted to do something private with another man, in your socks, it wasn’t ‘gay’. It was just two men, celebrating each other's strength.