(To my normal followers) don't worry I won't make a portal to blood hell, I basically don't care about it at all (to my horny weirdo followers) we gotta make that portal NOW
A simple idea. One work. All characters. All skills. All stories. This is a fragment; the work continues. Note: This is a study/visualization. Details may evolve as the full composition develops.
Current progress: 1/14
Been working on this piece since late last year, and it took me forever to finally wrap it up! Tons of characters to draw, and now a million tags to type out :-(
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Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Fuck You.
Iām so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down Iām so mad.
I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerpā¦. Donāt ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Donāt wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNINGĀ
What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they arenāt worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. Iām yelling so loud and now Iām crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I canāt take anymore. Iām opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*
who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.
love how he keeps reminding us that āI HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDSā, āTHEY ALL KISS MEā, and āTHEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURRā.
and letās not forget the āBlaizā and her āwicked tatā, or that he doesnāt āwanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever againā, and that this is āthe FINAL FUCKING WARNINGā.
āthe goo pile that is now your bodyā
iām dying over here, jesus
please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, itāll be fun.
Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. Iām clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and heās muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals Iām still Ā at the bar. You look to the exit, thereās still time. But thereās not, thereās not, thereās not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you. Ā I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I havenāt shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and Iām missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, itās like that only instead of boots itās my muscles and instead of walking itās punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your familyā¦ Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insultedĀ theĀ Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playingā¦ no playing you fuck. No playingā¦ it was real.. the realest thing Iāve ever know.. feltā¦ Love. I loved themā¦ Blaizā¦. Chas-Chasā¦ Funkā¦ I loved all three of emā¦ but theyā¦*My face is wet with tears and Iām blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left meā¦ leftā¦ *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?!Ā *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging.Ā āPft, you brought this upon yourself dude.ā He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left meā¦ * I fall to the floor and sob.*
Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
I need a polite and effective way to say "hey your heart is truly in the right place and your anger is often righteous but I think sometimes youāre getting recreationally mad about things that are frankly not worth the amount of energy youāre spending on them, and every time you do this you're driving yourself slightly more insane with nothing to show for it," and then I need a way to broadcast that message through a loudspeaker to roughly 30,000 people at once, and THEN I need a time machine to send that message to my past self lol. and maybe a second time machine in case past me tries to be clever and sabotage the version of me who comes through the first time machine
me watching wasian characters and actors face racist harassment on one side while the other says that actually they're white-passing so it's okay to hate them for not being diverse ENOUGH
just saw a pigeon doing the puffed up courtship dance thing to another pigeon, and as he was strutting around he suddenly stopped for a split second to do a very brief preen-peck at his own side, then returned to the strutting around. and i surprised myself by instantly losing respect for the male pigeon in that moment, like come on man i appreciate you had an itch or whatever but how is she supposed to feel special when you're getting distracted by bullshit like that? which on reflection i don't endorse, i mean those are pretty harsh dating norms i'm imposing on these pigeons, from a total outsider perspective, for no reason. probably not all girl pigeons are as uptight about that sort of thing as i would apparently be if i was a girl pigeon, maybe she even found it endearing who knows, i don't know her. it's none of my business really. sorry pigeons.
Please stay safe and please make sure to warn others about this scam if you see them questioning if it's real or not! People are more than welcome to @ users in my scam examination post I made about this scam too!! In fact I encourage it!
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drives me nuts when ppl act like its somehow feminist to be a huge asshole to people because 'men are allowed to behave that way,' or whatever. ok. well i dont think men should be treating people like that either. and if they talk to me like you are talking to me, i will judge and avoid them as well.
"society gives men a pass for behaving in hurtful and selfish ways without consideration for the impact it has on the people around them, particularly those with less power" yeah
"so I'm going to deliberately emulate this behavior, and it will be feminist of me to do so" incorrect
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
andulkaphoto
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
turnnoffyourmind
tangentwithtanner
