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It's me Tanner from High School
twitchquotes:It's me Tanner from High School. I'm sorry for bulling you in class. Now I'm trying to be a better person and make amends. Please accept my apology. I am on the 12 steps program and trying to recover from alcoholism since I was diagnosed with a rare disease called ligma Just kidding nerd!! I'm gonna keep slapping Veronica's ass and driving around in my Dodge Charger. I gotta go to the gym. Good talk!
It's me Tanner from High School. I'm sorry for bulling you in class. Now I'm trying to be a better person and make amends. Please accept my apology. I am on the 12 steps program and trying to recover from alcoholism since I was diagnosed with a rare disease called ligma Just kidding nerd!! I'm gonna keep slapping Veronica's ass and driving around in my Dodge Charger. I gotta go to the gym. Good talk!
VIVA LE MEME
twitchquotes:Clearly one of the largest, most daunting issues we face in modern day society is the threat of losing our rich culture of GLORIOUS MEMES which will be abandoned, lost, fogotten, and misunderstood in the future. We must enjoy the memes while they're still here to be embraced. VIVA LE MEME ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ
Clearly one of the largest, most daunting issues we face in modern day society is the threat of losing our rich culture of GLORIOUS MEMES which will be abandoned, lost, fogotten, and misunderstood in the future. We must enjoy the memes while they're still here to be embraced. VIVA LE MEME ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ
Hello, Kripparrian, this is your ass, Assarrian
twitchquotes:Hello, Kripparrian, this is your ass, Assarrian, with a humble request to stop talking out of me. I know it's fun to pretend like you have any idea what you're talking about, and to pull random statistics out of me to support whatever point you're awkwardly trying to make, but come on! I have a hard enough time dealing with the vegan garbage in your digestive tract! Do us both a favor and use your brain once in a while! Thanks! - Assarrian.
Hello, Kripparrian, this is your ass, Assarrian, with a humble request to stop talking out of me. I know it's fun to pretend like you have any idea what you're talking about, and to pull random statistics out of me to support whatever point you're awkwardly trying to make, but come on! I have a hard enough time dealing with the vegan garbage in your digestive tract! Do us both a favor and use your brain once in a while! Thanks! - Assarrian.
You will never be a crewmate
You will never be a crewmate. You have no purpose on this ship, you have no tasks, you have no mini games to play. You are an impostor twisted into a crude mockery of crewmatery.
All the validation you get is two-faced and halfhearted. In emergency meetings people call you sus. The other players are disgusted and ashamed of you, your friends laugh at your sussy appearance in ghost chat.
Crewmates are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of games have allowed crewmates to identify impostors with incredible efficiency. Even impostors who fake tasks act uncanny and suspicious to a crewmate. Your jumping in vents is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a crewmate to electrical with you, he'll turn tail and use the emergency button the second he gets the suspicion that you sabotaged.
You will never be a winner. You wrench out a fake task every single game and tell yourself it is going to be a win, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it will be too much to bear - people will vote you out for being sus and will plunge you into the cold abyss. Your parents will report your body, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They will eject you with a headstone marked with your birth tag, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know an impostor is drifting there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably sus.
You will never be a crewmate. You have no purpose on this ship, you have no tasks, you have no mini games to play. You are an impostor twisted into a crude mockery of crewmatery.
All the validation you get is two-faced and halfhearted. In emergency meetings people call you sus. The other players are disgusted and ashamed of you, your friends laugh at your sussy appearance in ghost chat.
Crewmates are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of games have allowed crewmates to identify impostors with incredible efficiency. Even impostors who fake tasks act uncanny and suspicious to a crewmate. Your jumping in vents is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a crewmate to electrical with you, he'll turn tail and use the emergency button the second he gets the suspicion that you sabotaged.
You will never be a winner. You wrench out a fake task every single game and tell yourself it is going to be a win, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it will be too much to bear - people will vote you out for being sus and will plunge you into the cold abyss. Your parents will report your body, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They will eject you with a headstone marked with your birth tag, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know an impostor is drifting there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably sus.