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ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation
ellievsbear
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#extradirty
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@pro-garvey
Hey guys, hereās me posting my Preston Garvey discord server yet again
So like ššš join if you want š
https://discord.gg/WHGvy6B
Check out the simps for Preston Garvey community on Discord - hang out with 19 other members and enjoy free voice and text chat.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Confession: Sometimes when I see Preston in game I call him, āmy husbandā in my mind.
Not a question but a confession
Youāre so real for this, i confess that I too refer to Preston as my husband, Preston appreciation squad š¦¤
Take a shot everytime I paint Bo with an arrow injury
anything for Preston
Happy Black History month!
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thereās something about drawing your fav characters as your fav album
redraw of Tyler Childerās Creeker album cover
Thought Iād post this Preston sketch that Iāve had sitting
Thought Iād post this Preston sketch that Iāve had sitting
āHow to make cats and dogs happy at the same timeā
(via)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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This video is sacred
My three girlfriends. And yes, they smoke weed.
do they smoke weed?
Yes, actually.
you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette?
Itās called a buntā¦. Not weed cigaretteā¦ And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)
They donāt look like they smoke weed.
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.
YourĀ āweed smoking girlfriendā has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.
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
Well that escalated quicklyā¦ā¦
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*
haha oh my god
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.
*shoots you dead* Heh, idiotā¦ *leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*
this dude playin omgĀ
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.*
date of origin: 2015
ā„ ā„ ā„
me after watching this
Turn the sound on at your own risk
never forget that gintama once had an ms paint styled opening because the staff and author fought over the animation style
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ACTUAL IMPORTANT ADDITION:
Okay, in saying the following, I recognize that this is going to sound pretty āout thereā, especially if youāre someone who is younger on the internet.
And I will preface what I am about to say with some credentials: I am an Internet Old. I am also someone who is paid professionally to work in the horror genre from time to time. I am also someone who has studied psychology, as well as studying some NLP-type shit (that I do not find ethical in the slightest, as an aside, and I quickly noped out of)ā¦
I also want to let you know upfront that what I will tell you is NOT to make you worry or feel afraid. I am sharing this info only so that you can āsee through the curtainā as it were, and recognize media and stories like this for what it actually is.
The tl;dr is - please be very criticial of any online horror story that does not provide a sense of catharsis or release at the end, or at the very least a sense of closure or ending. Or anything that is about someone giving up control.
Why? Because creepypasta stories like this may seem merely surreal and/or hilarious to you, but shit like this is actually subliminally priming you to be more easily manipulated and controlled.
And a lot of these types of stories are absolutely aimed at teens and pre-teens, or college kids, fyi. There is also a really good video here by Ann Reardon about of stories being told over brightly coloured baking videos. Mostly though, these stories are about and aimed at WOMEN.
Basically, this story is linking a fear response (a sewer man! - that sounds bad and weird at first) with a violent action - or a taking away of rights/possessions (the coffee that gets poured in the sewer) that comes from someone with power (the soldier) who is āsolving a problemā (thinking rationally - how would coffee dumped in the sewer fucking help anyone?!?!) where the victim (the woman) is shown how the solider is ārightā to do what he did.
The subliminal lesson here is that the solider does what he wants to do, because āhe knows betterā than the civilian girl. This story basically ends on the action of āthe soldier did the right thingā and there is no real catharsis or sense of ending. You know, the kind of message that implies ābe scared, rely on those in powerā. The idea that we should just comply.
And, as a thought exercise: the story would be so, so much different if it were a sweet little old lady that took the coffee. The initial scare/weirdness factor could still be there, but it wouldnāt have that same āheavinessā feeling to it, you know?
Please just think smartly about media, okay?
By the way, I am the creator of the Sewer Man post, and here is the ONLY creepy pasta I have ever written:
Ooo look who hasnāt posted art of their sosu in years and randomly got hit with inspo
Heinz is listening to Danse go on about fascism or whatever dumb shit the BOS are doing
