- Joined
- Dec 16, 2019
October 24 - Gone and Forgotten
Remember that guy
The one that used to do that thing?
I'm the only one?
Remember that guy
The one that used to do that thing?
I'm the only one?
Kiwitober 2021 - Inktober's autistic cousin - Thank you for a great one!
- Thread starter Celestine
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pursuitsnail
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 13, 2021
Gone and Forgotten
As we'll all be one day.
As we'll all be one day.
- Joined
- Sep 10, 2021
trash game i played religiously til ben sold out, for gone and forgotten.
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Everybody
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jun 17, 2021
Day 24: Gone and Forgotten
Sweden's one and only dictator of Trelleborg- Korea: Herkko Siponen
Last seen by me in may 2021 in one of his many youtube channels that he keeps starting in order to organize his sex clubs (or go to war) but they keep being struck down for some weird reason (him showing his baby carrot is the reason most of the time).
May 2021 was a long time ago and I feel like he has been forgotten so I bring you some translated content for you to enjoy!
Herkko explaining where the cock goes:
(in response to being cross pollinated with another autist who has a fetish for putting his dick o women's bellies)
A bit longer reference to the fanart below:
Join Herkko in the fight for Korea in space and underground together with invisible dolls and pissed off indians!
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Hongourable Madisha
You see, some of us don't know English properly.
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2019
Gone And Forgotten
- Joined
- Jan 16, 2021
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2019
October 25 - Consoomer
How do I decide
Merchandise that will sum up
My identity
How do I decide
Merchandise that will sum up
My identity
pursuitsnail
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 13, 2021
Consoomer
With a side order of waifuism
With a side order of waifuism
Weeb Slinger
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2019
Day 26: Triggered
The first thing the journalist did, after he sat down, was to turn over the clipboard containing the list of approved talking points.
Ever since then I've been playing a game of 10-dimensional chess.
I am not sure what game he thinks he's playing. KerPlunk, perhaps.
“Is there a conflict of interest between your well-publicised online work as a thot, and your behind-the-scenes role as armourer in this movie?” he enquires.
With one eye, I flash the mansplainer my best 'Yes girls can be armourers too; haven't you seen the Mandalorian?' expression. My other eye is focused on the screen of my mobile, as I pout my lips for my 9:15am Instagram selfie and apply the Lana Del Rey 1950s-chic filter.
“I mean, in your work as a thot, you are very much the focus of attention,” he clarifies. “Where-as working as an armourer effectively buries your name deep in the end credits of the film.”
“All I see are transferable skills,” I reply, coolly. “As an armourer I am responsible for firearm safety on set. As a thot I have a responsibility to ensure there are no wardrobe malfunctions. If I decide to go braless and then slide the spaghetti strap of my top partway down one shoulder, I need to be confident that the remaining strap will maintain its integrity. Because if it fails during a livestream, then I can kiss that Tik Tok sponsorship goodbye.”
To illustrate the seriousness of this situation, I withdraw my Glock from its shoulder holster and point it towards the man's head while mouthing a gunshot.
“The safety is off,” he remarks, blankly.
“That's correct. There are no safety nets in life.”
“No I mean the safety is off on the gun you are pointing at me.”
He ducks just in time to avoid the bullet that punctures the wall of the trailer behind him.
“They pay me to prevent accidents like that from occurring,” I explain, as I kiss the smoking barrel of the gun, withdrawing my lips a split second before a second bullet punches a ragged hole in the roof of the trailer. A sudden shaft of sunlight spotlights my tanned, heavily moisturised kneecap.
“That's right, drink it all in boy,” I murmur to myself. “If you want to see more then you'll have to pay me, piggy.”
“Well, I guess you should be getting back on the set,” says the journalist, flexing his manspread like he is performing sexist yoga.
“I could hang for a while,” I reply. “Pour me a shot of that tequila.”
A nearby gunshot is followed, a few moments later, by screams.
The journalist half looks up from his notebook.
“They're just rehearsing a scene,” I explain with reassuring confidence.
He nods and returns to his scribblings.
“So I have to ask you – is there any truth to the rumour that you accepted a donation of 5000 pastel-toned pant suits from the Clinton Foundation?”
The first thing the journalist did, after he sat down, was to turn over the clipboard containing the list of approved talking points.
Ever since then I've been playing a game of 10-dimensional chess.
I am not sure what game he thinks he's playing. KerPlunk, perhaps.
“Is there a conflict of interest between your well-publicised online work as a thot, and your behind-the-scenes role as armourer in this movie?” he enquires.
With one eye, I flash the mansplainer my best 'Yes girls can be armourers too; haven't you seen the Mandalorian?' expression. My other eye is focused on the screen of my mobile, as I pout my lips for my 9:15am Instagram selfie and apply the Lana Del Rey 1950s-chic filter.
“I mean, in your work as a thot, you are very much the focus of attention,” he clarifies. “Where-as working as an armourer effectively buries your name deep in the end credits of the film.”
“All I see are transferable skills,” I reply, coolly. “As an armourer I am responsible for firearm safety on set. As a thot I have a responsibility to ensure there are no wardrobe malfunctions. If I decide to go braless and then slide the spaghetti strap of my top partway down one shoulder, I need to be confident that the remaining strap will maintain its integrity. Because if it fails during a livestream, then I can kiss that Tik Tok sponsorship goodbye.”
To illustrate the seriousness of this situation, I withdraw my Glock from its shoulder holster and point it towards the man's head while mouthing a gunshot.
“The safety is off,” he remarks, blankly.
“That's correct. There are no safety nets in life.”
“No I mean the safety is off on the gun you are pointing at me.”
He ducks just in time to avoid the bullet that punctures the wall of the trailer behind him.
“They pay me to prevent accidents like that from occurring,” I explain, as I kiss the smoking barrel of the gun, withdrawing my lips a split second before a second bullet punches a ragged hole in the roof of the trailer. A sudden shaft of sunlight spotlights my tanned, heavily moisturised kneecap.
“That's right, drink it all in boy,” I murmur to myself. “If you want to see more then you'll have to pay me, piggy.”
“Well, I guess you should be getting back on the set,” says the journalist, flexing his manspread like he is performing sexist yoga.
“I could hang for a while,” I reply. “Pour me a shot of that tequila.”
A nearby gunshot is followed, a few moments later, by screams.
The journalist half looks up from his notebook.
“They're just rehearsing a scene,” I explain with reassuring confidence.
He nods and returns to his scribblings.
“So I have to ask you – is there any truth to the rumour that you accepted a donation of 5000 pastel-toned pant suits from the Clinton Foundation?”
Hongourable Madisha
You see, some of us don't know English properly.
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2019
Consoomer. With apologies to Junji Ito.
- Joined
- Jan 16, 2021
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2019
Alternative computer has MSPaint's inbred cousin Paint...
10/19 - NewFag
10/20 - Byuu's Revenge
10/21 - Deathfat's Neighbor
There once was a neighbor called Anna
Who jumped on her balcony nonstop
She was 600 lbs and in a bikini she slammed
Through the balcony onto the asphalt.
10/22 - The Harvest - Troon Ralph Rainbow Edition
10/23 - Freaky Furry
There once was a con called RainFurrest
Whose furries caused freakouts and unrest
They shit in diapers galore and broke a few doors
And yiffed until the hotel needed Sominex and therapists
10/24 - Gone and Forgotten
Laika Russian Dog
Sent to space, No choice, No Breathe
Suicide Canine
Laika was the first living thing sent to space. They sent him with one meal and 7 days of oxygen and knew he would not survive.
10/25 - Consoomer
Glitter and Lazers is an epitome of consoomer. She spends over $10,000 on items for rooms, hundreds on fake pumpkins and treats everything else in her life like shit.
10/19 - NewFag
10/20 - Byuu's Revenge
10/21 - Deathfat's Neighbor
There once was a neighbor called Anna
Who jumped on her balcony nonstop
She was 600 lbs and in a bikini she slammed
Through the balcony onto the asphalt.
10/22 - The Harvest - Troon Ralph Rainbow Edition
10/23 - Freaky Furry
There once was a con called RainFurrest
Whose furries caused freakouts and unrest
They shit in diapers galore and broke a few doors
And yiffed until the hotel needed Sominex and therapists
10/24 - Gone and Forgotten
Laika Russian Dog
Sent to space, No choice, No Breathe
Suicide Canine
Laika was the first living thing sent to space. They sent him with one meal and 7 days of oxygen and knew he would not survive.
10/25 - Consoomer
Glitter and Lazers is an epitome of consoomer. She spends over $10,000 on items for rooms, hundreds on fake pumpkins and treats everything else in her life like shit.
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2019
October 26 - Triggered
Little normal things
Cause me to lose all control
Fear my snowflake wrath!
Little normal things
Cause me to lose all control
Fear my snowflake wrath!
- Joined
- Apr 15, 2021
10/25 Consoomer.
The backstory: basically, as depicted. This deathfat, fat activist lesbian couple who are known for their immature, reckless consooming went on IG to complain about how they were being rejected for an FHA loan because the loan officers noticed the insane amount of money that they spent on food (Doordash was specifically cited). Closure on the story: they eventually got the loan and immaturely, recklessly bought a house with a tiny bathroom too small for them to fit, shit or shower in in a county they're already complaining about having to live in. It's gonna be a great saga for Kiwis who follow Corissa's thread.
10/26 Triggered.
Angey Lee a.k.a. Angry Ree / Angry Leech. Child-neglecting, animal-abusing, pothead welfare leech who is permanently mati. Canadian Shanny For Christ (who is also internet friends with and a defender of the actual Shanny For Christ) who takes great umbrage at Kiwi Farms' disgust with her and shows it by chewing and spitting gobs of kiwi fruit all over her own home.
I basically drew a frame from this short video directed at the Farms. IMO, if you pause it and skip through the frames, every frame is a masterpiece of REEEEE!
The backstory: basically, as depicted. This deathfat, fat activist lesbian couple who are known for their immature, reckless consooming went on IG to complain about how they were being rejected for an FHA loan because the loan officers noticed the insane amount of money that they spent on food (Doordash was specifically cited). Closure on the story: they eventually got the loan and immaturely, recklessly bought a house with a tiny bathroom too small for them to fit, shit or shower in in a county they're already complaining about having to live in. It's gonna be a great saga for Kiwis who follow Corissa's thread.
10/26 Triggered.
Angey Lee a.k.a. Angry Ree / Angry Leech. Child-neglecting, animal-abusing, pothead welfare leech who is permanently mati. Canadian Shanny For Christ (who is also internet friends with and a defender of the actual Shanny For Christ) who takes great umbrage at Kiwi Farms' disgust with her and shows it by chewing and spitting gobs of kiwi fruit all over her own home.
I basically drew a frame from this short video directed at the Farms. IMO, if you pause it and skip through the frames, every frame is a masterpiece of REEEEE!
pursuitsnail
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 13, 2021
Triggered
Guinevere knows it'll always be sir. She's made her peace with that. Instead, she focuses on cultivating her femininity in ways that affirm herself and honor the achievements of the women, trans and natal, who surround her in her daily life. But there is still one matter where her passion breaks through into uncontrollable rage: BREAKFAST.
Guinevere knows it'll always be sir. She's made her peace with that. Instead, she focuses on cultivating her femininity in ways that affirm herself and honor the achievements of the women, trans and natal, who surround her in her daily life. But there is still one matter where her passion breaks through into uncontrollable rage: BREAKFAST.
Hongourable Madisha
You see, some of us don't know English properly.
True & Honest Fan
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2019
Triggered, featuring CommieDickGirl and Terry Davis (and a couple of randoms being called names).
Weeb Slinger
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2019
Day 27 – Halal
“It is a female clitoris,” said Kamil. “I know this for a fact. I had my first wife's removed on the occasion of her ninth birthday.”
The three men peered down at the fleshy, greying pink nub that was gathering dust on the floor of the train carriage.
“I am not so certain,” said Hibr. “There is a penis-like quality to it, as if it originated from within the body of a man.”
“And I suppose you are an expert on the penis, having seen so many.” criticised Qabar. “It is this expertise that allows you to confidently pass judgement.”
“I know my own penis,” replied Hibr, patiently. “I laid eyes upon it only a few minutes ago, in the station toilet. It is beyond the reach of my prayers if you cannot recollect the last time that you were able to see your own genitals.”
“Qabar is so fat, his mother was stoned to death in Revolution Square for leavening the vice of gluttony in her son,” observed Kamil.
“It is funny because it is true,” added Hibr.
“When you are finished in your mockery of my God-given shape and my mother's well-deserved execution, then maybe you will see that the question that lies before us is not one of identity, but one of origin,” argued Qabar. “From where did this clitoris come from? Clearly it did not fall from the wanton and wretched body of a woman.”
“It is true that women seem intent on keeping their clitoris,” admitted Hibr. “They become tearful and angry when any attempt is made at removing it.”
“It fell from the heavens,” said Kamil. “In this I am confident.”
“But to what greater purpose?” enquired Qabar.
“As a sign!”
“But a sign of what exactly?”
“That is why we must delve more deeply into the matter of identity. Then the way forward will become clear to us.”
“Could it be a gift of manna sent from the heavens?” speculated Qabar.
“Are you suggesting that we eat it?” queried Kamil.
“I am merely submitting this course of action as a possibility.”
“I must strongly voice my disagreement,” said Hibr. “We do not know that the clitoris is halal and have no way of establishing whether it is lawful or forbidden. It may have been placed here by Satan to trick us.”
“It is true,” conceded Qabar, sadly. “ We do not know.”
They would have discussed the matter further but the train had arrived at their destination.
Rising from their seats, they let out a ragged cry of “Allahu Akbar!” and detonated their explosives.
“It is a female clitoris,” said Kamil. “I know this for a fact. I had my first wife's removed on the occasion of her ninth birthday.”
The three men peered down at the fleshy, greying pink nub that was gathering dust on the floor of the train carriage.
“I am not so certain,” said Hibr. “There is a penis-like quality to it, as if it originated from within the body of a man.”
“And I suppose you are an expert on the penis, having seen so many.” criticised Qabar. “It is this expertise that allows you to confidently pass judgement.”
“I know my own penis,” replied Hibr, patiently. “I laid eyes upon it only a few minutes ago, in the station toilet. It is beyond the reach of my prayers if you cannot recollect the last time that you were able to see your own genitals.”
“Qabar is so fat, his mother was stoned to death in Revolution Square for leavening the vice of gluttony in her son,” observed Kamil.
“It is funny because it is true,” added Hibr.
“When you are finished in your mockery of my God-given shape and my mother's well-deserved execution, then maybe you will see that the question that lies before us is not one of identity, but one of origin,” argued Qabar. “From where did this clitoris come from? Clearly it did not fall from the wanton and wretched body of a woman.”
“It is true that women seem intent on keeping their clitoris,” admitted Hibr. “They become tearful and angry when any attempt is made at removing it.”
“It fell from the heavens,” said Kamil. “In this I am confident.”
“But to what greater purpose?” enquired Qabar.
“As a sign!”
“But a sign of what exactly?”
“That is why we must delve more deeply into the matter of identity. Then the way forward will become clear to us.”
“Could it be a gift of manna sent from the heavens?” speculated Qabar.
“Are you suggesting that we eat it?” queried Kamil.
“I am merely submitting this course of action as a possibility.”
“I must strongly voice my disagreement,” said Hibr. “We do not know that the clitoris is halal and have no way of establishing whether it is lawful or forbidden. It may have been placed here by Satan to trick us.”
“It is true,” conceded Qabar, sadly. “ We do not know.”
They would have discussed the matter further but the train had arrived at their destination.
Rising from their seats, they let out a ragged cry of “Allahu Akbar!” and detonated their explosives.
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