has the fattest cat i have ever encountered

(Wū wū wū wū)

(wū wū wū wū)

(wū wū wū wū)

wū wū

(qiú, qiú, qiú, jìnqù, jìnqù)

(qiú, qiú, qiú, jìnqù, jìnqù)

wū wū wū wū wū

(qiú, qiú, qiú, jìnqù, jìnqù)

(qiú, qiú, qiú, jìnqù, jìnqù)

Nǎinai dǎ diànhuà lái shuō:“Tè lā wéi, nǐ gōngzuò tài xīnkǔle

wǒ dānxīn nǐ huì bǎ wǒ wàngle”

(qiú, qiú, qiú)

wǒ yīhuǐ'er piāo jìn yún lǐ, yīhuǐ'er yòu piāo chūlái

bié dānxīn, nǎinai, wǒ huì gǎodìng d

I’ve seen this girl play, and it’s painful to watch—she doesn’t even use a monitor, probably because she can’t afford one. She claims to visualize the map in her head, but it’s a blurry mess, completely delusional. Her so-called “biological wallhack” is just blind guessing; she stumbles into enemies by dumb luck, if at all. Her eyes are closed, not from focus but from sheer incompetence, as her mouse clumsily drags across the table, missing every shot with pathetic twitches. The bullets that leave her gun are a disgrace, spraying wildly and hitting nothing but walls. Her spray control is nonexistent, her crosshair flailing like she’s never touched a mouse before, her wrist muscles spasming in confusion. Time seems to slow down because her peeks are so agonizingly bad, enemies laughing as she fumbles her trigger, sending bullets into the void. She’s a walking target. She’s a guaranteed loss. She’s the epitome of failure.

pritti good strimer

Rubs my big belly and burps, Oh ♥♥♥♥ I’m so full oh ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥ my big ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ stomach is so round auuunnnn oh ♥♥♥♥ here I go burps oh ♥♥♥♥ that’s good rubs my gigantic oily stomach and moans oh ♥♥♥♥ I can’t believe how ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ big I am vomits leaks from my lip oh ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠉⠉⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣂⣼⡇⣀⣀⠄⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣾⣿⣿⣏⠄⠙⣿⡃⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡌⢿⣿⣶⣒⠄⠁⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢰⣄⠉⠁⠄⠄⠄⠈⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣻⣭⣾⠙⣿⣿⣿⠇⠄⠄⡀⠔⣩⡒⡩⠭⣟⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣵⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⠄⠈⠛⠁⠄⠄⣼⠟⠋⣹⣷⣦⠗⣋⡆⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢸⢷⠆⣰⡿⠏⠏⠘⠋⠠⢹⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠄⠄⠄⢠⣤⡬⣴⣿⡇⣤⡅⠠⣤⣤⡌⣿