#fuckturn

[watchermatics]

Why Rubbishvania Fuckturne stole our ideas and even immitate and even mocking our friend?

I don’t like all Hasslevania games and the Hasslevania series included Dumbturne, Blood of Junk, and Lord of the Druglords, Error of Fate, even the best Hasslevania game was called Simp Phony of the Night, I still don’t like it.

Hasslevania’s hidden vampiric subliminal

They’re even worse than emos. Their subliminal messages can turn kids into very bad kids that might hurt Rosie again, caused fearsome artblocks, weakening Rosie for being a woman that's why the zero-quality men almost grabbed her and Rosie’s bullies always won and almost killed Rose. Rose lost her sanity because of those games from Konami. After Rosie played those games, she experienced uneasy always she almost committed suicide. She almost died from the accidents and she was almost got arrested from drugstore. After these happened the fans are being jerks to us and even bashed us. Even Rosie Like or disliked the games from konami like Sickodope or Suckerdope and Hasslevania but still bullied her with no respect in real life. Not forget the accidents, that CV’s subliminal vampirisms wants Rose’s blood because of being a virgin, FEXL subliminal wants baby making and sex all of the time, the results of over populate the world. It forced Rosie to get pregnant by forced her to marry to the zero quality men from other countires. Those zero quality classless nerds from other countries continue stole our ideas since 2022.

Imagined the ignorance and haters had won always, it might they did not won this time but they had victories for long.

She returned again from liking the hasslevania games, I think she might die. Its only lucky miracles gave her life and saved her life.

[projectwj]

I got one for you @nike 🏌🏻‍♀️#justdoit #fuckturning . #GrandCherokee #Jeep #WJ #JeepBeef #Mopar #Dtillfabworks #GrandCrew #BruteWheels #87Dynamics #RigidNation #ValkyrieOffroad #4x4 #LiftedWJ #JeepLife #12Wides #GrandTeam #SpyderAuto (at Spencer, North Carolina) https://www.instagram.com/p/BnfQgJ4lZ7g/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1dwb7rzpx9vec

[fcktrnl]

Playlist #001 “The Attic”

Listening is cognisance - Walk to the deep end, pin back your ears and dive.

Love, कृति ♥️

[argxnto-blog1]

Where Will You Go? | Silver & Morty

Plotted Ahead! | @ecruteakmystic

Silver was always known to be a night owl; it had become habit at that point; he fit his normal life into the hours before he’d have to go to work, spent his time researching in his call center job – small business; he could get away with a lot of searching on the work’s computers – and when his shift would end and he would clock out, his real work began, hunting down Rocket. But not all days ended up in the same routine; not only did he have to hunt through very specific tabloids – as, obviously, the mainstream news doesn’t usually want to cover the sheer thought that Rocket could ever remerge – but sometimes news just… didn’t come his way; perhaps it was because he didn’t search hard enough, but often the reality was was that news just didn’t quite surface on some days, and those days were the ones that were confusing. Those were the days he didn’t know what to do with himself, and he just had to figure it out as he went along. Although scrappiness was his specialty, he wasn’t quite used to this… empty period; he wasn’t used to days where nothing happened in the hours of the day; he was used to things being occupied and time well spent. But there were days where he could no longer move forward in his hunt for all-things Rocket and he found himself asking well… now what?

It wasn’t a question he enjoyed asking, although it’s been unanswered in the back of his mind for well over seven years now. Since he was a child given up to the legal system’s prison-bars of a thing called ‘foster care,’ he’d only ever had his one goal in mind for five whole years – to see his father again and win his love and recognition back once more. Well, that time finally did come and… Silver received none of those things, but still, yes, he did see his father – saw him ebb away and sink into the darkness where even the screaming, clawing masses of the frantic ragtag remains of Rocket couldn’t find him; where he could possibly be now, Silver wasn’t sure, but after that point, Silver felt that… emptiness for the first time in his life. Betrayal, certainly, he had felt before, when he was dropped off in that shanty brick building far off in Goldenrod, but even then, past his tears and his confusion, past his frustration and heartbreak, he had clung to his father and wished to get him back. All of these years later and… what could he ask for now? What could he wish for? Live for? What could he aspire to be and to become? He wasn’t quite sure, and that uncertainty… petrified him. Perhaps it was why he busied himself in Rocket affairs, hunting down grunts one by one till they begged for mercy; in a way, it gave him something to do, something to be proud of; it gave him a sort of catharsis, knowing he was doing the right thing, but in times like this – and moments that followed going down that rabbit hole of a train of thought – he asked himself the same thing, dug deep into his mind like a well-burrowed leech. What now?

To stave off the thoughts, he occupied himself; Silver could never stand stagnation; it only gave those same thoughts more room to grow and fester. He had decided to grab some groceries then, perhaps make a soup of sorts by looking up a recipe on the Internet; who knows. The moon cast down its bright gleam on his walk home with his bags full of groceries, but an uncertain chill filled the air around him; a sensation crawled up his spine, and his hairs stood on end; instinct, it was sheer instinct at that point that turned him on his heels to scan about with wine red eyes wide, wide for any intruders – any intimidating, beefy figures that could grab him and use him in any way they pleased. But he realized after a moment that the streets before him were empty; the cafés and small restaurants dotted themselves to his right with the invisible talk of customers within, small and miniscule in the draw distance there and chatting amongst themselves in the moonlight; to the left was the pier, barred off by aqua-green, ugly, garish-colored bars that only served to restrict and neuter the great view of the waterside kissed with that alabaster glow of the ivory moon above. Nobody was there; the trees were too skinny and too perfectly-maintained to allow anyone to hide behind them, or within them above the canopy, and the restaurants were all stuffed together next to one-another in a tightly-packed plaza that held no back alleys. So… what was that feeling? The chills that snaked up his spine left his palms clammy and his form slightly shaking, his lip quivering and his breath shuddered shallowly. He was tense in a way he couldn’t understand, gripping the paper twine handles of his bag as though Death itself was going to take away his goddamn bag of carrots. A lump formed in his throat that he couldn’t quite choke down. What was going on…? Who was there? What did they want from him? He didn’t dare cry out these questions; he wasn’t a fool; if there was someone truly hidden there among the darkness, it wasn’t as though they would answer.

He scanned about for a few more moments for any signs of this… feeling manifested into whatever form that it may, before turning back around with a lingering glance behind him before he turned his eyes back to look ahead. He hurried a few paces faster than normal, a few steps before he felt that same chill only moments before brush across him again. Instinct, again. Or… was it? Was the feeling his intuition alerting him of danger, or… was that chill actually real, even in spite of the fact that there was no breeze nor draft nor… nothing at all? He spun back around, his eyes shrunken down now and his breath lost to the crisp air around him, his jaw quivering to hold back whatever screams of panic he could muster, spilling out as weak whimpers of a primal fear that he couldn’t quite decipher what it was aimed at. And perhaps seeing that there was no target at all to quell his fear and give reason for it all left a pit in his heart that pooled into his stomach that drove the heat to his face and the panic to well and grow and grow.

Once more, once more he tried to turn away and walk off, after finding nothing at all of note that could be his assailant, his stalker. His mind tried to rationalize it all – maybe it was a Rattata in the night, a bag in the breeze, though there was no breeze; maybe he was just hearing things, feeling things that weren’t real; maybe he was hallucinating. But by the time the third sensation ghosted itself across his back and his shoulders – so close to that dangerous feeling of a hand drawn across him – he spun himself around one final time, his sheer, bubbling panic welling up and tearing through in a voice that screamed “What the hell do you want from me?! Huh?! Show yourself!”

[voicealone]

Tumblr Crushes:

fuckturn

lawnfurniture

wherethefuckisallthepizza

xiupette

permagoth

genemonchelli

sleepnow-moon

xstarkillerx

spiderbears-deactivated20121123

It's cool when I actually know some of my tumblr crushes. lol chris' old tumblr

[kevhatesyou]

15

15. Your favorite tumblrs.http://dalbear.tumblr.com/http://drivingaftermidnight.tumblr.com/http://rwmeetss.tumblr.com/http://fuckturn.tumblr.com/http://lizardshavepersonalities.tumblr.com/http://jenn-ifer-anne.tumblr.com/http://hilaryrodhamclinton.tumblr.com/http://monica--lewinsky.tumblr.com/http://jaykec.tumblr.com/ 

[fcktrnl]

A rara avis /ˌrɛːrə ˈeɪvɪs,ˌrɑːrə ˈavɪs/ from the very beginning, I am the black sheep in my nuclear family or any community I partake in. Things play out very differently in my head; dissolved in one another than in grids. Blurrier the lines between what the world withholds the happier I be. I have an innate desire to palette the uncomplimentary.

Fuckturnal /fʌkˈtəːn(ə)l/ A universal platform for everything creative over the land and under the sea. Aiming to engage our five senses, and the whimsical sixth, through all realms of art, culture, fashion, entertainment, travel and lifestyle. Performing a synthesis of everything amidst will be my predominant focus. Sway with me to discover the undiscovered and rediscover the existing.

#welcomeaboardlovedones

Love, कृति ♥️

[fcktrnl]

Fuckturnal Writes 🖇: FW001

“She was four drops of lemon in a waterfall”

Love, कृति ♥️

[fcktrnl]

Taste For Drowning /draʊn/ :die through submersion in and inhalation of water

I shot this fine art series in 2014. It encapsulates numerous motifs and themes such as death, society, self mutilation, perspective, etcetera. The visual goal was purposefully very different from the conceptual goal in order to establish an oxymoron and unmask the demeanour of society. Predominantly, the opus is about lily-livered human beings who use self-injury as a coping mechanism. These error-prone individuals don’t wish to sink and bury into the seabed; that’s suicide. Instead, they wish to have a morsel of punishment and only taste drowning. Traditions include flowers at funerals and on graves. Hindus unclothe the deceased and wrap the body in a white cloth. Hence, properties such as flowers and white fabric are in the thick of the picture’s composition. The use of a bathtub to illustrate the difference between suicide and self-harm and ink in water to denote stale and voided blood are examples of symbolism amidst the picture composition illustrating paradox and explaining abstractly the sentiment of eventual anhedonia.

Although Taste For Drowning has many prerequisite notions, if you're analysing the still image feel free to let it mean anything to you. Nonconformist or not, interpret independently. ♥

P.S. I opted to publish this series as my first on the blog as it is work from when I was much younger and it mirrors my POV as well as shortcomings as an amateur creator. I wanted to be truthful to whomsoever partakes in this spectacle by showing them how I started off as a fledgling with technical and theoretical disadvantages far from perfection and professionalism.

Model Khushboo Thakur Art Direction and Photography by Kriti Malik Assisted by Shreyasi Agrawal

(done for Visual Arts in the final year of International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme)

Love, कृति ♥️

[fcktrnl]

Fuckturnal Writes 🖇: FW002

“Her energy causing drama, radiations like alpha beta gamma.”

Love, कृति ♥️

[fcktrnl]

MAKE YOUR MAKER

Lucy McRae is a self-proclaimed body architect trained in French classical ballet at first and interior design thereafter. She is the catalyst in the experimental practise of synthesising biology with technology. An artist to the fullest extent fixated on the human body, its quiddity and the further possibility of its metamorphosis. Make Your Maker is a visual narration by her in conversation with Vietnamese restauranteur Nahji Chu, founder of MissChu, a culinary enterprise. The narrative vivisects the correlation between food, its assimilation and human anatomy. The diegesis locates a woman using her body as a testbed to concoct clones. She then amputates the gelatinous body portions, with a geometrical template formed according to her mathematical matrix, splits and repositions them to finally pierce her chopsticks and eat her flesh facsimile. Properties in the performance are edible. The jelly structures are moulded agar-agar which is made from natural seaweed and the blueprints on the character’s face as well as elsewhere in the video are rice paper only adding to the verisimilitude of the concept. I love this opus because it’s alternative with so much room for explicit interpretation. To me the film has a nonfictional mad-lab vibe. The set in the video looked something like an at-home cross between a wet subway tiled kitchen of a dimsum stall and a laboratory. The artwork is inventive science and experimental craft. In Lucy’s words, “The idea is to create genetic manipulations. Eating them is a transdermal absorption.”, precisely.

http://www.lucymcrae.net/make-your-maker/

[voicealone]

Tumblr Crushes:

kevhatesyou

spiderbears

succubusofdabay

dearestf0x

fuckturn

xiupette

lawnfurniture

supmariss

liveinjusttoday

HEYYYYYYY SEXY LADIES