Speedl0rd
getting closer
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2013
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sounds a lot like me
Stuff.
- Thread starter Beetletoes
- Start date
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
Kleinfolk
cool beans
So, should I get a 2k monitor, a 3d printer or a puppy for Christmas
Kleinfolk
cool beans
That is the question
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
Get the printer, then print a puppy and a monitor... BOOM
IM A GENIUS
Kleinfolk
cool beans
Smart
Speedl0rd
getting closer
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2013
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- Reaction score
- 11,797
- Points
- 653
harvard: yo want a scholarship?
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
Nah, I'm gonna gain all my nowlegde when I have a threesome with the lizard man, zucky zucky, and the weedman, musky musky...
I was reading a magazine, and a woman screamed. So I looked up, and the sky had turned white. I tasted blood in my mouth, but spat and there was nothing. My skin felt soggy, like a wet paper towel. I felt like I could be torn apart by a gust of wind.
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
I had wondrously wearied upon the yielding hills of my festering home. Of which I brought my canine companion, an intolerant fellow, of simple complexion, but what's to be expected of such a beast, restrained upon a torturous chain, to stop travel from large distance.
Its hard to concept what precisely I was looking for in the trip. For, as many know, I'd come upon a case of epilepsy. For, I'd no glee, nie the nostalgia, intensified by such my condition. The situation would seem perplexing, intrinsically spiritual, but infitely illusioned. I looked for the joy, in the memories of my past. For, the road was nie travelled, a hidden route behind the expanse of the traditional of the villa. The road was ghostly, and I'd fond memories of the end of the road from my younger ventures. The end of the road was but an encampment, where the brush found density at a cultisack. I'd once found the tiniest pond, infested with tadpoles, hidden in the small yet vast expanse of forest. The cultisack had a small sign, state issues, that promptly stated "END."
The sign was peculiar. For, it blocked a small passage deep into the woods, that no soul dare enter, but always dreamed. The sign had been shiny, and had possibly seemed new, but the road was travelled so few, that most assumed the sign was ancient. But, it may have signified the end of the road, but it certainly did not signify the end of the meaning, nie the spirit, of the area.
The walk up the hill was simple, but I grew weary on a thought that I would return after nightfall. Fall had barely begun, so the leaves were only a toned tan, not barren sticks as they would become in later weeks.
The sooner portion of the walk was quite nostalgic, for an old comrade once lived upon the route, and I was fond of the experience I had spent at the now-renovated home. I'd finally almost gotten to the end of the Street, and my nerves quelled me. The portion up to the end was narrow, a desert by that time, with nothing by the aperture at the end and a single tree upon the side of the road, hidden in the adorning hills and accesorized by the vast yellow wasteland of the routen hillside. Out of the road of the hill, came a man on a dirt bike, zipping past me, quenching my largest fears, and encouraging the continuation of the trip.
It was this point that my conscious was tender, and my mood viscousous. This factor was what turned the next experience so frightening.
The end had changed much till my arrival. Some wise man had spray painted the word "war" under the end, to read out, "END WAR." The rest of the area seemed the same, magical and calmed, with the entrance to the entrancing forest and the desolation of the cultisack.
I had then looked to my side, for I had seen a crucifix placed on the ground, likely as rememberable of a man. Though, a closer examination sought that the cross was upside down, and painted red and black, with a small picture that I do not remember and a candle. A brief moment caused me to realize what afflictions this man had, and why this memorial was placed here, in such an isolated place. This really hit the tenderness of my mind, my soul. The implications slapped me upon the head and had me sharply turn left and haste up the hill with enormous pace. My mind was racing, the world was over. Had my theophysical pursuit angered a mighty being? I would never know. The rest of the trip was glum, and neatly finding my way around the hill and back home.
I had later come to figure out the memorial was that of a man who was recently notorious among local drama. He was a man who walked out in the middle of the street with a rifle, and blown his own head off, for all the neighbors to see.
I had lurched into the whims of my broken mind, and I had found evil, outside of it, alone, on a lone isle, on a lone hill, with my dog.
Goodnight fuckers.
Its hard to concept what precisely I was looking for in the trip. For, as many know, I'd come upon a case of epilepsy. For, I'd no glee, nie the nostalgia, intensified by such my condition. The situation would seem perplexing, intrinsically spiritual, but infitely illusioned. I looked for the joy, in the memories of my past. For, the road was nie travelled, a hidden route behind the expanse of the traditional of the villa. The road was ghostly, and I'd fond memories of the end of the road from my younger ventures. The end of the road was but an encampment, where the brush found density at a cultisack. I'd once found the tiniest pond, infested with tadpoles, hidden in the small yet vast expanse of forest. The cultisack had a small sign, state issues, that promptly stated "END."
The sign was peculiar. For, it blocked a small passage deep into the woods, that no soul dare enter, but always dreamed. The sign had been shiny, and had possibly seemed new, but the road was travelled so few, that most assumed the sign was ancient. But, it may have signified the end of the road, but it certainly did not signify the end of the meaning, nie the spirit, of the area.
The walk up the hill was simple, but I grew weary on a thought that I would return after nightfall. Fall had barely begun, so the leaves were only a toned tan, not barren sticks as they would become in later weeks.
The sooner portion of the walk was quite nostalgic, for an old comrade once lived upon the route, and I was fond of the experience I had spent at the now-renovated home. I'd finally almost gotten to the end of the Street, and my nerves quelled me. The portion up to the end was narrow, a desert by that time, with nothing by the aperture at the end and a single tree upon the side of the road, hidden in the adorning hills and accesorized by the vast yellow wasteland of the routen hillside. Out of the road of the hill, came a man on a dirt bike, zipping past me, quenching my largest fears, and encouraging the continuation of the trip.
It was this point that my conscious was tender, and my mood viscousous. This factor was what turned the next experience so frightening.
The end had changed much till my arrival. Some wise man had spray painted the word "war" under the end, to read out, "END WAR." The rest of the area seemed the same, magical and calmed, with the entrance to the entrancing forest and the desolation of the cultisack.
I had then looked to my side, for I had seen a crucifix placed on the ground, likely as rememberable of a man. Though, a closer examination sought that the cross was upside down, and painted red and black, with a small picture that I do not remember and a candle. A brief moment caused me to realize what afflictions this man had, and why this memorial was placed here, in such an isolated place. This really hit the tenderness of my mind, my soul. The implications slapped me upon the head and had me sharply turn left and haste up the hill with enormous pace. My mind was racing, the world was over. Had my theophysical pursuit angered a mighty being? I would never know. The rest of the trip was glum, and neatly finding my way around the hill and back home.
I had later come to figure out the memorial was that of a man who was recently notorious among local drama. He was a man who walked out in the middle of the street with a rifle, and blown his own head off, for all the neighbors to see.
I had lurched into the whims of my broken mind, and I had found evil, outside of it, alone, on a lone isle, on a lone hill, with my dog.
Goodnight fuckers.
Q1ntum_shot
Definitely not a serial killer
A: oh good I'm not the only one
2: you ruined my joke :'(
Legoclub22
The Antagonist's Right-Hand
this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
Somebody really needs to get voiceover pete to do a massive craft add
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
Like, "Attention all factions players and internet roleplayers! Massive craft, the original factions server, is in grave danger, and it needs your help... All you need to do is connect to the server ip {server ip I forgot it}, and begin your massive craft experience. The people there will be very welcoming... Make sure to check out the forums to help the imperial dragon defeat the mist and achieve the epic VICTORY ROYALE"
Legoclub22
The Antagonist's Right-Hand
how much do things like this cost
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
Well, his patreon has what we need for 50 dollars, but that tier is sold out. Pretty much all of it is sold out. We could make a custom donation and ask for it, but I don't know how well that would work.
Legoclub22
The Antagonist's Right-Hand
Q1ntum_shot
Definitely not a serial killer
So essentially it was too good?
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
I have no idea. But, I'm sure the meme could help rejuvenate our dying server
Server is only dying if you want it to be. The about of players joining each day shows that minecraft java is still popular. Memes will only make things slapstick.
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
Fair enough, it's just sad to see a constant 7 people in regalia, 3 of which are inactive, the other 4 in a hidden hut somewhere.
Kleinfolk
cool beans
RIP
Legoclub22
The Antagonist's Right-Hand
there's usually enough people online when I am
soapboxstage
a muppet of a man
I was on earlier and it was a lot better.
Kleinfolk
cool beans
Sad reacts only because time zones are mean
Legoclub22
The Antagonist's Right-Hand
they really are. I'm lucky to be in CST
Q1ntum_shot
Definitely not a serial killer
Eh when I join it's normally around 10 to 20 guys on when I leave to my job there's above 100
the chad tetris player vs the virgin massivecrafter
Legoclub22
The Antagonist's Right-Hand
tbh my two most prominent guard characters are a chad and a virgin. I should formulate a meme for it
Kleinfolk
cool beans
O
Kleinfolk
cool beans
O
Kleinfolk
cool beans
Kleinfolk
cool beans
Kleinfolk
cool beans
Only 149 posts left
Q1ntum_shot
Definitely not a serial killer
I have no idea what to say so I'm saying this
Q1ntum_shot
Definitely not a serial killer
Can I report myself?
Speedl0rd
getting closer
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2013
- Messages
- 1,179
- Reaction score
- 11,797
- Points
- 653
yes, you actually can. go to ur profile lol
