《Blockage of Writing》Art of Torture
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Who says that murder can’t be art? Clearly these people are stupid. It’s quite obvious that murder is a form of art; in fact it is the finest form of art. Painting? Bah, only senile old farts consider painting art. Sculpturing? People with no sense of creativity sculpt. How about music then? Sound can’t be art, that’s just silly. How about poems and writing then? Surely that is art. Please don’t make me laugh. Anyone could take up quill and ink and write a smash novel or poem. But it takes real talent to turn murder into art. You must hon your skills, practice so often. The art of murder is so, so, so difficult. There are so many types of bodies that exist out there in the world: tall, short, skinny, fat, lean, muscular. So many different types of combinations that your canvas is always different. There are many ways to turn your body into a beautiful masterpiece of art. You could simply cut designs on the body, but that’s just like painting so it’s not very entertaining. You could, dismember people and reattach their limbs and organs in different places, making your own Frankenstein (dead of course). What’s that? You want to hear the highest and finest form of murder possible? Oh happy days, happy days! I’m happy you share the same views as me! Well I’ll tell you fellow artist. It’s torture! Torture is true art. You take what others call “art” with their music, their paintings and put it into one thing! You have so many different tools at your disposal as well. Torture has such a wide selection of equipment that you easily lose count my friend! You have all sorts of hammers, nails and screws, saws from chainsaws to regular saws, waterboarding, the electric chair, rope, poison (Painful poison of course), wrenches, guns, hammers-. Oh I already mentioned hammers? See, that’s how many tools we can use that you easily lose count! You can play music with your canvas, listening as they make sweet, sweet sounds as you cut off a finger or two, or slowly draw a knife over the skin. Beat them with a hammer to a bloody pulp to see how long your canvas stays in one piece! Open up your canvas and you can do so many things with the items inside! I hear some of those items are quite tasty when cooked. Wanna see how much paint your canvas holds? Make many, many, many cuts on it so it releases its crimson paint, but don’t go to fast or you’ll ruin your canvas. You got to go slowly and delicately. There are specific places on your canvas that holds more paint then others, but it ruins your canvas faster, so be careful. I’m so glad that I met you! I’ll make you my apprentice; I’ll help you master this true art. You’ll see how much fun it can truly be. Once we get out from behind these bars, we’ll assemble a group of fellow enthusiasts and make our work know to the world!
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Reborn as a Failure
*Dropped: don’t waste your time. In my previous life, I was a born failure. I made every wrong choices, took every wrong path, and in the end, died a dog’s death. But even a complete failure like me, was given a second chance at life. So I’ll take it. I’ll make the most out of it. I’ll aim for the stars and try my damn hardest to reach my dream. My heart’s desire. My greatest wish. To become… A Space Janitor! Spaceships. Wizards. Aliens. Cosmic horror beyond imagination. Planetary warfare. Here I come! I’ll make them all bleed, and scrub the floors afterwards!
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In the far future the descendants of humanity are moving back towards civilisation. A young warrior learns how to tame and ride horses which live on the far fringes of the forest near his farm. He hopes to export this skill to the larger country of his island but is foiled by their belligerent nature. Joining forces with them he discovers a secret third nation and unleashes a series of changes. He then finds that to achieve his goal he has to fight to the death against an unexpected rival.
8 205Mr and Mrs Shekhawat
An arrange marriage.A love journey.How love blossoms between Randhir and Sanyukta. Arrange marriages are beautiful.Trended 5th in fanfiction on 13th May 2017
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8 72Please...
Harry Potter is five years old now, though he does not look it. He looks more like a small four or three year old. But, that's not the end of it.The fact that none of his neighbors know he exists, that he sleeps in a cupboard, even that his parents are dead, is not the end, nor the worst of it. No, the worst, is his uncle. The reason he doesn't speak, look at anyone, barely even breathe. Each night, he hopes for someone to come and save him, but they never come. No matter how hard he wishes, how hard he hopes, it seems he will be stuck there forever, or until his slow, agonizing march to death ends.One night, after hoping and hoping, he starts to realize he will never get saved, helped, even comforted, for his entire life.What if he's wrong, and what if a certain Slytherin can heal this broken child?What if, in turn, this broken child can heal him?THIS IS NOT SNARRY!! If that's your thing that's fine, but HARRY IS FIVE IN THIS FANFIC!! NOT SNARRY!!Do not repost on any other website/account without my permission.
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