Octavian, this is Brian Weiss with Grinding Gear Games
twitchquotes:Octavian, this is Brian Weiss with Grinding Gear Games. We understand there was an issue with our last financial restructuring that inadvertently canceled the auto-pay into your account. We've gone ahead and rectified the issue, as well as forwarding an additional 10% as an apology. We look forward to your updated commentary regarding our latest content expansion for Path of Exile.
Octavian, this is Brian Weiss with Grinding Gear Games. We understand there was an issue with our last financial restructuring that inadvertently canceled the auto-pay into your account. We've gone ahead and rectified the issue, as well as forwarding an additional 10% as an apology. We look forward to your updated commentary regarding our latest content expansion for Path of Exile.
REKT Not REKT
☐ Not REKT ☑ REKT ☑ REKTangle ☑ SHREKT ☑ REKT-it Ralph ☑ Total REKTall ☑ The Lord of the REKT ☑ The Usual SusREKTs ☑ North by NorthREKT ☑ REKT to the Future ☑ Once Upon a Time in the REKT ☑ The Good, the Bad, and the REKT ☑ LawREKT of Arabia ☑ Tyrannosaurus REKT ☑ eREKTile dysfunction
☐ Not REKT ☑ REKT ☑ REKTangle ☑ SHREKT ☑ REKT-it Ralph ☑ Total REKTall ☑ The Lord of the REKT ☑ The Usual SusREKTs ☑ North by NorthREKT ☑ REKT to the Future ☑ Once Upon a Time in the REKT ☑ The Good, the Bad, and the REKT ☑ LawREKT of Arabia ☑ Tyrannosaurus REKT ☑ eREKTile dysfunction
Amogus 700 years in the future
Imagine, 700 years in the future, through some last vestige of the internet kept in an underground server, a notification miraculously appears on your device (which has been preserved in nuclear dust from the 5th world war). One night, an alien working a late shift at the museum of archeology notices the cracked screen suddenly light up, and upon it, one word arises from the battered code: Amogus. They do not know what this word means. They ponder it deeply. They scour the ancient tomes, desperate to understand its mystifying origin. It drives them mad. Is it a primeval cipher? The motto of a bygone civilization? A message from God? Night after night they study it by candlelight. They flip through pages in books so old, the slightest cough would turn the paper to a fine off-white powder. The answer is nowhere to be found. And then they are struck by a revelation: I was not meant to know this word. Its esoteric nature escapes my grasp for a reason. What if its meaning is too enlightening to bear? With this revelation comes anger. Spite. Despair. Why shouldn't I understand it?! What cosmic forces are there at play to keep me from such knowledge?! In a fit of desperate rage, they shatter your device against a wall and exclaim, arms raised to the heavens: "This is literally 1984!" Silence... Their pleas are unanswered. Sadly, in the end, their inability to unlock the word's meaning drives them to suicide. Its secrets are never known. So I ask you this: is it better to die having never understood the true mind-bending nature of Amogus, or to be driven mad by the little spaceman in his blood-red suit? If you knew enlightenment would render you incapable of living on this mortal earth without making daily references to a game of space mafia, would you accept it? With knowledge comes power, but also endless suffering. Choose wisely, and be wary when standing at the edge of that great abyss we call "the Truth," lest you fall too deep.
Imagine, 700 years in the future, through some last vestige of the internet kept in an underground server, a notification miraculously appears on your device (which has been preserved in nuclear dust from the 5th world war). One night, an alien working a late shift at the museum of archeology notices the cracked screen suddenly light up, and upon it, one word arises from the battered code: Amogus. They do not know what this word means. They ponder it deeply. They scour the ancient tomes, desperate to understand its mystifying origin. It drives them mad. Is it a primeval cipher? The motto of a bygone civilization? A message from God? Night after night they study it by candlelight. They flip through pages in books so old, the slightest cough would turn the paper to a fine off-white powder. The answer is nowhere to be found. And then they are struck by a revelation: I was not meant to know this word. Its esoteric nature escapes my grasp for a reason. What if its meaning is too enlightening to bear? With this revelation comes anger. Spite. Despair. Why shouldn't I understand it?! What cosmic forces are there at play to keep me from such knowledge?! In a fit of desperate rage, they shatter your device against a wall and exclaim, arms raised to the heavens: "This is literally 1984!" Silence... Their pleas are unanswered. Sadly, in the end, their inability to unlock the word's meaning drives them to suicide. Its secrets are never known. So I ask you this: is it better to die having never understood the true mind-bending nature of Amogus, or to be driven mad by the little spaceman in his blood-red suit? If you knew enlightenment would render you incapable of living on this mortal earth without making daily references to a game of space mafia, would you accept it? With knowledge comes power, but also endless suffering. Choose wisely, and be wary when standing at the edge of that great abyss we call "the Truth," lest you fall too deep.
Sneaky goes 8th in TFT 8 times in a row
twitchquotes:After going 8th 8 times in a row, "Patient 8" hits his head on the wall 8 times in quick succession. The patient only communicates to his "chat"; a bunch of random sentences strung together to find out what will make the patient communicate. The word "Meteos" seems to trigger some sort of erotic response in the patient.
After going 8th 8 times in a row, "Patient 8" hits his head on the wall 8 times in quick succession. The patient only communicates to his "chat"; a bunch of random sentences strung together to find out what will make the patient communicate. The word "Meteos" seems to trigger some sort of erotic response in the patient.
Last night I shoved live gerbils in my ass for the first time. AMA
I went to the pet store and bought three lucky gerbils, a whole set up for them. I took them home, stripped down, lubed up my ass then put the first brave gerbil into a condom. I looked him in the eyes and I could tell he was just as excited but nervous as I was. Then I shoved him inside me and out of instinct due to being squished in my tight little asshole the gerbil tried to burrow to safety which felt AMAZING. I bent over and moaned uncontrollably as the gerbil flailed and burrowed trying to save his life. Unfortunately it was in vain. After a couple minutes he stopped moving. The first brave gerbil on my sexual journey had died. My legs still shaking from pleasure I pulled him out of my ass and out of the condom. I looked at his lifeless body and he looked so peaceful it almost brought a tear to my eye. I threw him in the trash can then grabbed another condom and another gerbil.
The second gerbil was quickly inside me and thrashed just as violently as the first. My legs buckled, my small flaccid penis started leaking. I laid on the bed, my legs shaking as I jerked my tiny penis as hard as I could. Unfortunately this one died quicker. A failure. I cast it into the trash and got the biggest gerbil ready. I swear he winked at me. It was hard to get him in but he started burrowing and thrashing directly on my prostate. I screamed in pleasure and came everywhere as that fat gerbil flailed helplessly in my asshole. My orgasm was so intense I lost control of my bowels and shit everywhere. As the diarrhea sprayed from me like a chocolate fountain the final dead gerbil plopped out of my ass and onto the bed. I laid there panting watching the mixture of shit and cum soak into the bed. Then I got up, cleaned up and got dressed, my legs still shaking. A truly unforgettable experience.
I need more gerbils.