Throw your posts through this translator...

[Hijinks]

... And see what pops up.

http://www.gizoogle.net/textilizer.php

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Sendin Fable off ta go find tha Bloody Pilgrim was a blingin act up in Fabulaz relationshizzle wit her daughter, n' one dat she might not have thought of if not fo' tha two extra mindz inside her head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da hoe needed ta know dat Fabula believed up in her enough ta trust her wit suttin' entirely without supervision, n' retrievin a starshizzle from across tha galaxy would be tha slick way ta do dis shit. Much mo' blinginly, though, it gave tha elder clone some time ta spend on Dathomir.

None of Fabulaz memories had been ta Dathomir up in muthafuckin years whether dat shiznit was six hundred or six. Da taste of tha swamps n' forests n' bays n' mountains...it was all too much ta deal with. Da sound of every last muthafuckin animal, every last muthafuckin hustlin howl, every last muthafuckin rancor scream echoed all up in her n' shit. Dat shiznit was as if tha hood challenged her ta be thinkin of it as home. Could she straight-up consider it dat now, afta havin dropped so much time away, biatch? Did she even have tha right, now dat there was not a god damn thang fo' her here, biatch? Her crew was long dead, tha mutha whoz ass had capped her vanished tha fuck into nothingnizz afta cappin' any suckas she knew n' loved.

Maybe tha memories Dathomir brought up weren't so pleasant.

Her leg hurt. Fabula dropped ta sit on a rock nearby n' tried once again n' again n' again ta be able ta make soundz mo' fucked up than pained groaning. Turns up havin yo' blasted hamstrin cut by a laser blade n' then tryin ta strutt on it fo' minutes was a inadvisable course of action. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. She'd just rest here fo' a funky-ass bit, until tha Force moonwalked back ta her properly n' dat thugged-out biiiatch could heal away dat constant agony of a sliced tendon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Her plan was perfect. This was Dathomir. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. There was definitely not a whole lot of fucked up shiznit just waitin fo' her ta be vulnerable so it could make her its next meal.

Da sound of a rancorz footsteps was like distinctive. Fabula chose ta ignore them, cuz hell if dat biiiiatch was goin ta git up just cuz tha wildlife challenged her position. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Nope. Not until her skin knitted.

...What have you done. :mellow:

 

[Darth Carnifex]

First had come tha pain of demise, tha wack agony of feelin yo' game slip away slowly, yo' blood flowin outta yo' body until at last all cognitizzle thought ceased n' da perved-out muthafucka succumbed ta tha inky blacknizz of non-existence.

However; dat shiznit was not as dat schmoooove muthafucka had thought.

Of course, there was tha endless black dat gnawed at what tha fuck he assumed was his spirit yo, but fo' whatever reason he retained his crazy-ass muthafuckin individualitizzle as da perved-out muthafucka sunk further n' further down tha fuck into tha abyss, tha spiritz of tha slain, nuff of whom wore tha facez of tha innumerable souls brought ta they end by his own hands, clawin at his crazy-ass muthafuckin incorporeal form while utterin incoherent gibberish of tha insane. Endlessly they sought ta tear at him, loot away what tha fuck made his ass tha playa da thug was, ta covet his thugged-out lil' personalitizzle n' sense of self yo, but da thug would not let dem take what tha fuck was his. Fuck dat shit, he fought back, as much as his schmoooove ass could bein bereft of definite form, n' all up in tha sheer strength of his will da ruffneck drove dem back. Then came tha silence, tha deafenin void of sound dat threatened ta drive his ass made wit itz enormitizzle yo, but just as da thug was bout ta cross over than line between sanitizzle n' madness, da thug was sucka-punched by sudden, ferocious sound.

And tha clashin of blades.

Then, came tha color ta his vision, his schmoooove ass could make up distinct forms as he fell tha fuck from tha heavens ta crash down up in a gangbangin' field adorned by mutilated corpses, n' bloodied blades yo. Dude suddenly found his dirty ass wit form, garbed up in tha armor dat schmoooove muthafucka had worn durin game, n' wieldin tha weapon dat schmoooove muthafucka had wielded durin game as well. With a instinctizzle flick of his cold-ass thumb, he activated tha crimson blade, n' driven by a sudden bloodlust his schmoooove ass could not explain tha pimpin' muthafucka tore tha fuck into tha nearest body, carvin all up in flesh n' bone like a funky-ass bangin' knife all up in soft butter n' shiznit yo. Dude was driven, compelled, ta fight n' ta bust a cap up in n' be capped endlessly up in dis desert stained by millennia of conflict n' violins. But, even as his schmoooove ass carved all up in another body, he knew dat dis was terribly wrong...

Dude knew dat dis was all wrong... But then he remembered, he remembered all too well of what tha fuck had transpired up in tha ghetto of tha living.

Kaine Zambrano was dead, n' dis was his cold-ass torment.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

 

[Hijinks]

[member="Fabula Cavataio"] [member='Darth Vornskr']

*dies laughing*

 

[Nikolas Faselli]

Spoiler

Picture, biatch? Eh... she felt like dat biiiiatch would never let dat happen again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Unless dat biiiiatch was straight-up shizzle dat biiiiatch would peep what tha fuck was goin on round her, not what tha fuck tha galaxy struggled with. That was shitty.

But like takin different threadz tha fuck into her hand, her big-ass booty started rockin mo' n' mo' ripplez of tha Force, one by one, n' started ta peep a cold-ass lil cleared picture of every last muthafuckin thang fo' realz. All details became sharper, soon colours took tha place of black n' white... her dope ass didn't give a fuck what tha fuck colours they was or how tha fuck they was called yo, but they was dope.

Then her big-ass booty saw Connor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Da picture of seein another thug so sharp gots her ta lose her breath fo' a moment.

Dat shiznit was da most thugged-out dope thang dat freaky freaky biatch had eva seen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And even though dat freaky freaky biatch had just holla'd dat biiiiatch would never wanna peep anything, fo' once dat biiiiatch wished her eyes would work.

"Thank yo thugged-out ass."

Da lyrics came outta her ass wit no real reason fo' sayin em yo. Her lips just took tha needed shape on they own, tongue moved without tha aid of tha girlz dome n' tha vocal cordz seemed ta straight-up disobey tha girl.

WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Send help.

Can't breath.

[member="Ellya"]

 

[Vyse de Valorous]

Vyse standz on his ship, pacin back n' forth, as he often do when tha pimpin' muthakarka thinks yo. Dude has been up in his shizzle as chaos has taken tha galaxy yo. Dude knows he need ta do somethang yo, but has been unsure as ta what.

Dude wishes his schmoooove ass could restore order yo, but he knows aint gots tha means ta even cook up a thugged-out dent up in dis sea of chaos, so he must be thinkin of suttin' else ta do as tha galaxy falls down round his muthakarkin ass fo' realz. And then it hits him, his wild lil' karkin eyes brighten, tha look of findin tha answer on his wild lil' face; With all dem playas gone, most of tha bank accounts up in tha galaxy must be unguarded, n' wit there ballaz gone no one ta reclaim dem

Vyse now has a goal, tha mad drama n' panic is gone, a gangbangin' fire now burns inside his muthakarkin ass. But Vyse be thinkin tha question: But, how tha kark would I git tha kark into tha accounts, I aint tha dopest hacker....
Vyse knows what tha kark he must do, he goes n' sendz a cold-ass lil coded message ta the.....lower levelz of society.
Da message reads: Yo muthakarka, if yo ass is readin dis message, you must be a person...... wit a cold-ass lil certain set of game, I wish ta offer tha chizzle ta cook up a poodooload of scrilla, n' I do mean all muthakarkin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! If yo ass is interested, come ta these coordinates, I'ma be waiting.




What have you done! :lol:!

 

[Minna]

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Spoiler

658 ABY: Hell Hath No Fury

Bol-Jahir stood tha side of tha room silently observin his crazy-ass masta at work. In retrospect, tha plan was ingenious. Bol-Jahir was ta pretend as if da thug was a gangmember of tha Order of tha Lotus, a crew he n' his crazy-ass masta had destroyed nearly two hundred muthafuckin years prior.

Well, not straight-up destroyed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Bol-Jahir thought of tha chronic Jedi Masta they had fought only all dem months ago. Perhaps tha Order wasn’t like as extinct as they thought. Bol-Jahir turned his crazy-ass mind back ta tha task at hand.

Da visage of tha Celestial stood up in tha centa of tha room. Dat shiznit was Zero… Bol-Jahir knew dat shiznit was Zero. But dat schmoooove muthafucka had somehow chizzled appearizzle ta match they needz todizzle, n' dat shiznit was almost convincin even tha Apprentice his dirty ass dat they was up in tha presence of a almighty deity.

Or whatever tha Celestials were, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Zero had only talked bout dem once, n' when dat schmoooove muthafucka had, there had been nuff venom on his fuckin lips ta spew bout dat shit. "Asinine" was a word used straight-up heavily.​

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The Netherworld Event is much more fun in gangster talk.​

 

[Darth Voracitos]

In a realm beyond tha mortal plane, there existed a chillin consciousness... it had been slumberin fo' a long, long time. For decades, dis consciousnizz had lost its mortal form, n' had been subjected ta a cold-ass lil catastrophic identitizzle crisis. Upon its dirtnap, here, upon Dromund Kaas whilst chillin upon his Throne as tha Shadow Emperor, its ass had been prebound ta a artifact consistin of nine sentient crystals within tha latticez of a holocron, up in tha centa of a massive station two kilometas up in diameter n' poodoo. Da ass had inhabited these crystals, which had amplified his thugged-out lil' juice nine fold... fo' awhile tha semi-specta of Darth Voracitos had roamed tha galaxy as a enigmatic n' ethereal creature yo. Dude had destroyed a entire hood upon Rodia side by side ta tha Thronebreaker n' his thugged-out allies... dat schmoooove muthakarka had tried ta assemble bangin warlordz ta set tha galaxy aflame... dat schmoooove muthakarka had tried ta destabilize tha Mandalorians, each time only ta be unsatisfied, n' ta fail ta acquire his objectives. When finally da thug was capture of his own will, he failed ta initiate tha full extent of his thugged-out lil' plan... n' cuz of dat da thug was set up in wait upon his crazy-ass massive pimp ship. That same shizzle sat there still, yet even still tha half-chillin thang dat had become Voracitos believed dat schmoooove muthakarka had peeped a vision of a slick entitizzle dat was tha personification of tha force, n' tha darkside yo. Dude attempted ta unite all dem affiliated wit tha dark side ta follow up in dis grand vision, ta work as allies, ta work up in gangbang ta destroy tha light, ta set all dat shiznit burn... yet... da thug was only eva half-present. Why was that?

Dat shiznit was cuz dat schmoooove muthakarka had been lost fo' all dis time. Da crystals had amplified his thugged-out abilitizzles indeed... but it siphoned away at his crazy-ass muthakarkin identity... his karkin lack of chill, his karkin lack of hunger... destroyed his muthakarkin ass. Voracitos had come ta believe dat schmoooove muthakarka had been forcin his dirty ass tha kark into Chaos ta drank tha content of its bowels as it rejected his thugged-out lil' presence... yet up in truth, dat was only half true. Da identitizzle dat had traveled all up in tha galaxy ta accomplish thangs dat tha Shadow Emperor had never done, was a gangbangin' false creature. Dat shiznit was half of Voracitos... every last muthakarkin side of his thugged-out lil' personalitizzle dat was not dominated by what tha kark defined his ass as a funky-ass being... tha Masta of Gluttony. Da Masta of Gluttony did not live long without a funky-ass body, n' had instead... lost ta his dirty ass... been taken by Chaos tha kark into tha Garden of Thorns, where tha truly lost reside. Constantly, dat other personalitizzle remainin up in tha galaxy, tried ta recapture dis part of itself... ta simulate n' recreate what tha kark had been Voracitos... like karkin tha devourin of a Rodian hood, or tha protection of Dromund Kaas from destruction, or tha rage da ruffneck demonstrated at findin Ashin Varanin... tha anchor his schmoooove ass fronted dat allowed his ass ta remain up in dis realm.

They was a gangbangin' false-hood, divided tha kark into nine... yet tha centerfold had been missin fo' some time... fallen ta Chaos, chillin up in a gangbangin' forest of tha lost.

But todizzle?

Todizzle tha rulez chizzled.

Violet laced, amber glowin eyes opened up in tha foliage of tha damned, n' overwhelmin utta rage, incomprehensible hunger, blasted from tha forest tha kark into tha rift of Dromund Kaas... a massive call all up in tha force....

"FEED ME"

Lol, this is literally perfect.

 

[Hijinks]

Jink was unsurprised ta find his dirty ass up in yet another nightclub. This week had pretty much been a strang of slightly lonely nights waitin fo' Carliah ta git back from tha Sith Palace. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, his only companions had been (good) chicken n' (stiff) drinks. Da purple-haired pussaaaaay was bored, n' any revelry he engaged up in was not provin enough ta alleviate dat shit.

So, when da perved-out muthafucka saw, or rather felt another Shi'ido approaching, tha menstrual feelin a lil' bit like his own yo, but distorted, his schmoooove ass could have burst up laughing. There was no way up in hell his schmoooove ass could hook up two otherz of his species up in tha same month fo' realz. Afta all dis time of not seein any, biatch? No way.

 

[Placeholder 0123]

Galaar's death post in god speak:

Spoiler

So dis is how tha fuck it ends. This is they story, they epic ballad, as soldiers.. fo' realz. As brothers.. fo' realz. As Mando'ade. From tha sterile hallz of Kamino ta these blood stained battle fields, Galaar could feel tha blood drip chest. Its warm grip tuggin tighta a tigher n' as dat schmoooove muthafucka held onto body of his brutha n' shit. Da final moments ran all up in his crazy-ass mind, tha moments as his blade sunk tha fuck into Calicoz flesh n' Calicoz sunk tha fuck into his.


His bloodied lips then parted as da perved-out muthafucka spoke, a wheezy, fucked up tone fo' realz. And what tha fuck da perved-out muthafucka was rappin was entirely up in Mando'a. Da language they had been taught by tha closest thangs they had ta muthafathas.


"I be sorry as a muthafucka Ca'ika. I be slaggin sorry bout dat bullshit... I wanted ta be there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. I reall- straight-up done did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I just wish our crazy asses had time ta say our peace outs, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Th- Eheeezz." Dat shiznit was a unnatural breathe dat left his fuckin lungs, one fortellin his wild lil' fate. "That our crazy asses had time for--- For one last cup of cafe. But- I- I guess our phat asses aint gots time. Just like dis aint our time. This is barrowed time- We- We- hzzzhe- shouldn't be here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. We shou- Should have took a dirt nap wit our brothers fo' realz. At least- We bout ta finally peep dem up in Manda. I be bout ta peep you again."


"Us thugs weren't made fo' dis time, Ca'ika... My fuckin passin is now fo' da bomb. Its all gravy- I promise. Its all gravy. Just m--- Hzzz- Make peace... Please."


Fear washed over his ass fo' a phat moment. Every playa feared dirtnap, not matta how tha fuck stotic they was up in tha game. Dat shiznit was a gangbangin' fear dat dat schmoooove muthafucka hadn't felt since tha minutes on Kamino. Da minutes up in tha trenches on Geonosis. Dat shiznit was a gangbangin' fear dat blinded him, yet, like always he gripped onto his brutha n' shiznit yo. His head fallin against Calicoz bloodied chest plate.


His head fuckin started ta slip back as he gave his wild lil' final breathe... But as it did, a reel of images flashed all up in his slowly blackenin vision. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. What was mili-secondz felt like minutes as he faded tha fuck into tha cold grip of dirtnap wit his yo. Dude saw they faces. Da facez of Arca Company, Salem's, tha freshly smoked up generation of clones... Jainz yo, but finally, da perved-out muthafucka saw Calicoz yo. Dude saw his wild lil' grill up in tha barracks tha minute before Order 66. Everythang was so simple as his wild lil' fuckin eyes finally closed n' da perved-out muthafucka slumped backwards, still holdin tha limp body of his brutha n' in-the-end, his companion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch.

Calico would peep tha light ebb from his wild lil' fuckin eyes as da perved-out muthafucka stared up tha transiparsteel view port fo' realz. As Galaar slowly drifted tha fuck into darkness, goin up in dirtnap up in as da thug was up in tha game.

 

[Gareth Yalthik]

"Yo ass is bustin n' thankin too much, Ardeo," Gareth states, as his wild lil' karkin eyes shift upon his wild lil' frame, havin observed his thugged-out attempt at deflectin tha blasta bolts, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. "Allow tha Force ta guide yo' actions. Remember, you utilizin a movement meditation while struttin dis maneuver n' poodoo. Which means while you conscious n' up in a state of perpetual movement you need ta submerge yo ass up in tha Force fo' realz. Allow it ta anticipate tha boltz trajectory n' it will guide yo' saber where it need ta be," da perved-out muthakarka states, struttin between em. "That goes tha same ol' dirty fo' you as well, Steve."

"It aint nuthin but hard, I know. We accustomed ta meditatin while up in a stationary posizzle yo, but you mustn't allow dat ta become a g-thang fo' realz. A Jedi should be able ta meditate even up in da most thugged-out hard as kark of thangs. Yo ass won't always have tha luxury of a on tha down-low temple. Right back up in yo muthakarkin ass. So give it a try again," he motions Ardeo ta give it another go.

"Envision all dis shiznit. Place yourselves up in a funky-ass body of wata wit a school of fish. Each fish swims up in randomized patterns n' is hard ta catch. But kark dat shiznit yo, tha word on tha street is dat by focusin on tha Force round you which happens ta be tha wata up in dis case. Yo ass begin ta peep tha currents n' patterns up in they movements, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. They then become easier ta catch, so try that," da perved-out muthafucka say yo. Dude was unsure whether it would work yo, but dat shiznit was worth a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shot.

"Da fish is tha blasta bolts, yo' handz is tha blade, n' tha wata is tha Force dat permeates all thangs. Use dat shit."

Lol, that was fun.

 

[Asher]

A ghetto had separated dem once fo' realz. A ghetto beyond tha galaxy yo. Dude had not known it at first but suttin' bout tha way home had planted these grainz of shiznit within his muthakarkin ass fo' realz. A knowledge of points round tha galaxy where realitizzle had been pierced, ruptured by suttin' terrifyin fo' realz. A land of nightmare dat still had his ass dissin reality. Da force n' every last muthakarkin thang wit it had turned tha kark into a cold-ass lil catastrophe. Right back up in yo muthakarkin ass. Stealth mastas turnin theyselves permanently invisible, healaz without tha means ta aid dem playas whoz ass needed em.

These was just thangs observable from tha temple on Yavin IV dat [member="Falcon Gyndar"] had left Aton at as da thug went off ta help his -- What was tha word, biatch? Vod, biatch? -- elsewhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Da entire galaxy at dis point had become a severe vibe crippla n' poodoo. Dat shiznit was hard not ta be thinkin on dem missin but most specifically dat shiznit was [member="Mira Gyndar"]. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Da thought of her brought up a lump up in his stomach. They had always been there together n' shiznit fo' realz. Arguing, teasing, fighting, punching, huggin n' up in general been siblings together, n' twins nonetheless. Now one half of tha dynamic duo was missin which just severely messed up tha whole every last muthakarkin thang.

Nothang was funk no mo' except starin all up in tha floor yo. Had tha force not been actin as wonky as it had recently there could done been a hustlin session or similar ta git all up in in order ta keep mind off of thangs but there wasn’t fo' realz. All da perved-out muthakarka seemed ta do these minutes was take tha occasionizzle jog round tha Temple groundz ta keep dat healthy gamestyle up but even then every last muthakarkin thang was just so mind numbingly… Weird.

Stick up in one hand da perved-out muthakarka sat upon a rock pokin all up in tha gravel up in front of his muthakarkin ass yo. His elbow rested upon his knee n' his wild lil' free hand pressed gently against his cheek up in a pose dat could straight-up well cause his ass ta fall asleep should da perved-out muthakarka so desire fo' realz. A bust a funky-ass big-ass fart passed his ass by n' his wild lil' grill karkin started ta pout before excitedly wakin up all up in tha sound of a rustle up in tha distance.

"Mira?" Da pimp shone up yo, but no, dat shiznit was not his sista n' poodoo. Probably just some animal hustlin away all up in tha sight of tha lonesome pimp upon a rock. With a second bust a funky-ass big-ass fart he placed his head atop of his hand once again.

"Please, just come back home." Dude sighed again n' again n' again as tha eyes set upon tha gravel again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "And soon."

There was no tears. Either they had been dropped already or Mira would show up any second n' give his ass a hard time bout dat poodoo.

Every post in this thread will now be run through this. Thanks a lot.

[member="Mira Gyndar"] [member="Falcon Gyndar"]

 

[Uri Aureleos]

Spoiler

Uri bowed ta tha holograph of Masta Kian Karr then turned his thugged-out attention ta his opponent, his wild lil' playa yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin'. Da only advantage dat schmoooove muthafucka had was dat he knew her chosen form n' how tha fuck she played it fo' realz. Although dat schmoooove muthafucka had never faced dat shit. Knowin how tha fuck suttin' is countered n' bein able ta straight-up do dat shiznit was two different thangs yo. Dude went all up in all dem quick scenarios up in his head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude draws both of his sai fo' realz. Attacks wit a gangbangin' furry. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch waits fo' his ass ta tire n' cook up a mistake yo. Dude loses. OR Dude draws one sai ta start fo' realz. Attempts ta play her game of parry n' dodge. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch up maneuver his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude loses yo. His only chizzle was dumb luck dat Elizie would cook up a mistake. Uri smirked all up in tha thought of her bustin a mistake. If her dope ass did, dat biiiiatch would probably make it step tha fuck up like dat freaky freaky biatch had done it on purpose. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was elegant n' graceful like dis shit.

Dude offered his bangin rough hand ta her fo' a pre-match handshake. Once her four digits reached his wild lil' five tha pimpin' muthafucka twisted his wrist so her hand would be on top tha slippin his hand down ta her fingers as bowed similar ta dat of a noble gentleman. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. A noble da ruffneck definitely was not yo. Dude look awkward as da perved-out muthafucka stepped back wit his opposite foot leadin tha fuck into tha bow yo, but dat schmoooove muthafucka hoped da thug would git points fo' tha gesture yo. Dude thought fo' a second if da perved-out muthafucka should lick her hand but he knew dat would be too much. This was part of his thugged-out lil' plan up in hopes ta git her off her game. This was suppose ta be funk afta all, so why not?

"May yo' victory be elegant yet graceful, mah lady," he grinned as he raised from his bow lettin her finger slip from his hand.

If I typed all of that, I think I would need to call my momma and apologize. I bolded and italicized my favorite/most disturbed parts.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

"Ma'am."

Da soft call from Aeri Vyn, her Zeltron assistant would come from tha right, promptin tha draw from her reverie. Danger would glizzle up, a gangbangin' faint smile registerin over her lips.

"Yes?" dat biiiiatch would query, blinkin a lil' bit as dat biiiiatch would focus her attention upon tha biatch. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Aeri be a cold-ass lil companion, much like Alisha'ven had been up in tha past. Yet where Alisha'ven is her right hand biatch n' her voice, Aeri was Dangerz underground assistant. With how tha fuck wild-ass her schedule n' tha pressin needz of Corellia n' tha humanitarian aide effort, Danger knew dat biiiiatch was stretchin her muthafuckin ass thin.

Had it not been fo' Aeri as much as Alisha'ven n' Six, Danger had no clue how tha fuck dat biiiiatch would still be functioning. Then again, dat biiiiatch was already pushin her muthafuckin ass ta her limits, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Biatch was here afta all, afta a attempt on her game. Then again, ta be fair, Danger wasn't one ta strutt away from a gangbangin' fight.

"We is dockin onto tha the Soul of Corellia, " Aeri fuckin started ta tell her, her bright blue eyes n' spiky afro framin her pixie like face.

"Nuff props," Danger would tell her, risin up ta her feet up in a swath of black fabric.

"Mistah Starchaser is requestin yo' presence. Dude wishes ta personally greet yo thugged-out ass." Aeri would continue ta inform her, movin round Danger ta smooth tha line of her dress n' give her last minute bust a nut on ups.

"So far our crazy asses have tha interm Corellian Senator.." Aeriz voice would fade tha fuck into tha background as Danger stood still, her attention drawin back ta her reflection upon tha polished glasteel viewport.

Biatch was a sight ta behold, she knew dis well. Biatch had always been a gangbangin' fast girl. Now, from tha lookz of her, dat dunkadelic hoe traveled all up in tha speed of light. Her afro was set up in loose crimson waves, her eyes lined wit kohl, n' her lips a funky-ass bright cherry red. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Thirty-nine was gettin on up there fo' a biatch by tha galaxyz standards, but while Danger had hardened durin tha past ten muthafuckin years ta make Arceneau what tha fuck it is, dat freaky freaky biatch had not aged. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Some would say dat tha ice up in her veins had preserved her muthafuckin ass.

Truth be holla'd at, dat biiiiatch was startin ta wonder if they was right.

All dolled up n' no one ta show off to. Da slight bit of irony at dat would prompt her lips ta twist tha fuck into thin smile. For a biatch whoz ass had every last muthafuckin thang, dat shiznit was a soberin realization dat she straight-up didn't.

Not what tha fuck truly mattered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!

 

[Via Dolorosa]

Since time dat biiiiatch was a lil hoe livin ridin' solo n' as a outcast up in a cold-ass lil cave hidden deep up in tha swampz of Dagobah, her mind had begun show signz of instability. First da hoe fuckin started rappin' ta her muthafuckin ass, then moved onto rap battlez wit objects; even bustin lyrics fo' em. Then came tha whispered voices from tha cave hustlin her when dat biiiiatch was awake n' hustlin her up in her dreams. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch could not explain dis phenomenon nor could she find any evidence up in her cave ta prove they existence. Until one dizzle when her big-ass booty stumbled upon a amulet wit a hand engraved tha fuck into it wit symbols etched tha fuck into tha metal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Da moment she picked it up, every last muthafuckin thang chizzled.

This dope trinket had been infused wit tha game essence of five previous Sith, four Sith Lordz n' one Apprentice, all wit they own unique personalitizzles n' beliefs fo' realz. At dat moment, tha voices dat whispered ta her had now become one wit her n' shit. They promised ta help here find a cold-ass lil cure ta expel dem from her mind, which up in tha end was only a trick. Now they lived there permanently. Furthermore, her mind continued tha fuck into downward spiral tha fuck into tha ghetto of madness.

"My fuckin lady," tha radar technician holla'd grabbin her attention, "Da ships wit tha correspondin signature codes has been picked up. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shall I rely tha coordinates ta tha eastside landin platform?" So at last her guests had arrived. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch was takin a big-ass risk up in dealin wit outsiders, especially wit a member from Da Order of tha Gay. But fuck dat shiznit yo, tha word on tha street is dat Darth Venefica did not care bout dem risks, only tha potential of bein cured n' finally havin these voices exorcised from her n' shit. To ensure safe passage fo' her guests, da hoe bribed certain Admirals ta look tha other way as tha ships passed all up in Sith space. To further show she meant no harm or treachery, dat thugged-out biiiatch chosen tha ghetto of Typhon ta be they meetin place.

"Yes yes y'all...and inform dem we will hook up dem all up in tha platform," she answered tha tech then added, "And notify tha Nightshade Company they is ta protect dem at all costs."



Hmmm.....I can work with this

 

[Laith Varad*]

This is maybe the greatest material I have ever read on any board anywhere.

 

[The End Narrator]

I am losing brain cells, intelligence level going down and ocd is going haywire to correct the bullshit I am attempting to read.

God save me.

Lol.

 

[Aiden Zarc]

(I just typed in something random)

My mother smokes weed everyday and my dog walks itself. I am a very lonely boy.

Translates to:

(I edited the cuss word)
My f**kin mutha smokes chronic everydizzle n' mah dawg strutts itself. I be a straight-up lonely boy.

 

[Gherron Dragovalor]

Spoiler

"Sparky, take our asses in."

Da black astromech beeped a affirmatizzle n' pimped up tha shizzle ta go tha fuck into Arkaniaz atmosphere as Gherron peeped up in anticipation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Of all tha places he'd been, there was still hoodz dat schmoooove muthafucka has yet ta travel ta fo' realz. Arkania was one of em yo. He'd heard so much bout tha wildlife there, n' tha massively intelligent species dat hailed from it, n' now da thug wanted a look. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly, tha rader started goin crazy, n' his thugged-out lil' punk-ass bent down ta take a look. There was straight-up movement up ahead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Whatever was there, dat shiznit was large. Watchin tha surface come tha fuck into betta view, da perved-out muthafucka spotted a mountainous area over ta tha north, n' pointed ta a lil' small-ass forested area right next ta dat shit. "Take our asses down tha fuck into dat forest over there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Us dudes don't wanna attract ta much attention." Whatever was movin round up there, he figured it would be betta up in tha long run ta land tha shizzle somewhere away from it yo. Dude didn't git dis far up in tha game by bein reckless all tha time, afta all. Once they'd landed, Gherron threw on a grey cloak, n' slipped on a gangbangin' grill mask fo' phat measure yo. Dude even went as far as hidin his wild lil' force signature fo' realz. As tha shizzle opened up ta tha ghetto round him, he realized dat shiznit was a phat idea. Immediately, a wave of dark side juice rushed over his muthafuckin ass. "Woah... what tha fuck be happenin down here?"

Makin shizzle dat schmoooove muthafucka had his thugged-out lil' pistol, Animus on his side, Gherron drew his hood up over his crazy-ass maxed face, n' holla'd all up in tha drizzle ta peep over tha shizzle yo. Dude wouldn't try ta find tha source of tha darknizz outright, instead hopin fo' suttin' ta come ta his ass first yo. Dude didn't wanna find his dirty ass dead on some alien hood cuz da thug was stupidly curious. Besides, he knew dis hood had a shitload of da most thugged-out fucked up beasts up in tha galaxy-dragons. Walkin all up in tha forests slowly, he fo' da most thugged-out part found no resistance. There was tha occasionizzle predator, n' even all dem menacin branches dat seemed placed just so his schmoooove ass could trip. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes da thug wondered how tha fuck he'd straight-up juiced it up in tha few times da thug was cut off from tha force. Thatz why da thug was bustin mo' n' mo' time recently hustlin on his game up in other areas yo. Hence his thugged-out lil' pistol. Just up in tha time he'd had it, it had served his ass straight-up well already. Lookin tha fuck into tha lil' small-ass pouch he made fo' tha rounds, tha pimpin' muthafucka took up a slug. Unlike tha other round types he'd designed, dis was da most thugged-out deadly. Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck knew one lil' small-ass rounded piece of durasteel could so quickly end a game, biatch? Droppin it back tha fuck into tha bag, he quickly put it away yo. Dude hoped he'd never gotta use it yo, but he also knew tha time would come eventually. Then, as if programmed ta keep his ass off of such solemn ideas, Gherronz head fuckin started thankin on some potential upgrade there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. What if dat schmoooove muthafucka had a funky-ass belt ta place tha roundz in, biatch? One loop per inch, so dat he always had a locked n loaded amount of ammunizzle fo' his fuckin lil' disposal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Dope fo' thought. By dis time, it had grown ta night. Of course, da perved-out muthafucka should have expected he'd be up fo' a long-ass period of time. Climbin tha fuck into a tree, tha pimpin' muthafucka took his crazy-ass mask off fo' tha night n' rested on one of tha branches.

Why. Just... why? o_o