Does anyone know where I can find all the current volumes to read online? So far I've only been able to find volume 1, but I know volume 2 and 3 are out there somewhere.

An offshoot of the shooting thread, let's see the final coup de grace, anime style.

Bonus points for exit wounds, brain splatter, large calibur!

Love the site, been looking for a place to share and get feedback/inspiration for my photo manipulations. Almost all involve semi-consensual/coerced girls getting impaled or stabbed between their legs. (For world-building this all takes place in a reality where women outnumber men 20,000:1, thus population control is needed)

I think the theme fits in with the community here, but I don't see any other manips. I'm wondering if these are welcome, or else if someone can suggest another site/community? Love everything I see here!

Rather than actually upload images for now, here are a several links. (I actually have several hundred of these in my archive…) If they're liked I'll start a thread on /art

https://images2.imgbox.com/a6/06/quGScNnP_o.jpg
https://images2.imgbox.com/53/3b/Sl8wVA2P_o.jpg
https://images2.imgbox.com/30/9f/VVII2nJz_o.jpg
http://ist3-7.filesor.com/pimpandhost.com/1/_/_/_/1/5/g/d/D/5gdDo/Knife%20159%20House%20Girl%20Retirements.jpg
https://images2.imgbox.com/ca/9e/9yYjnsFd_o.jpg
https://images2.imgbox.com/8c/e7/8ukuoA69_o.jpg
http://ist3-6.filesor.com/pimpandhost.com/1/_/_/_/1/4/T/y/1/4Ty1v/Knife%2067.jpg
https://images2.imgbox.com/d2/09/tnB9kV6G_o.jpg

Sorted pics not connected with stories. Mostly dead or ways to die. Some children, not little. The first picture is part of s study on Welesley, son of a Christian missionary in China in 1900. The 55 bodies were on display naked for two days.

So since the previous thread refuses to let me post more, lets try a new one.

Girls who are tortured/abused for long periods (hours, days, or even years)

it's been a few years since i've been gone, can someone please tell me what happened to gurochan's activity?

Any girl being torture by slowly baking alive.

The entire point is so we can identify things we either preferentially want to read, or absolutely want to avoid at all costs, WITHOUT clicking through to the actual thread and scrolling down to wherever the tags are hidden. Sort it out.

Clarissa sat on the plush couch, her finger nervously twirling a stray bang of her golden blonde hair. The waiting room was minimalist, consisting of plain white walls, ceiling, and floor, and containing only the couch, a small table with a scattering of magazines, and a bottle of water. She reached over and grabbed the bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a deep gulp of water. It was unseasonably hot, and her sweat stuck to her shirt, causing it to cling tightly to her breasts.

The young single mother grimaced as she thought back to the events that brought her to the room. It started with a letter in her mailbox. The royal stamp was on it, so she had quickly opened it and read the letter. She had been chosen by the king to attend his yearly birthday. The wording implied that it wasn't a voluntary invitation. The king had a reputation for choosing attractive women off the street and taking them to his castle. They were never seen again, although their families were compensated very richly. As expected in a small citystate like San Venizio, rumors ran wild about what exactly happened to these women, but no one knew for sure. Now it seemed like Clarissa was about to find out for herself.

The door swung open, making Clarissa snap out of her reverie, and a prim looking woman in a business suit walked in with a briefcase in hand. Clarissa didn't fail to notice the two large, burly guards flanking the woman, their pistols holstered on their chest plate carriers. "Ms. Clarissa Overmeier, I am the secretary and legal aide for His Majesty", the woman began. As she talked, her fingers unlocked the briefcase and withdrew a single sheet of paper and a pen. "Before we proceed with the ceremony, I'm going to need you to sign this form". Clarissa took the pen and paper, her eyebrows furrowing as she read the form.

"Name: Clarissa Franklin Overmeier. Age: 31. Social Identity number: 4558710". Her eyes wandered down, taking in the small print, and her unease only increased. "By signing this form, I hereby declare myself property of His Majesty, with all human rights afforded to me prior now forfeit. Any attempt at escape or causing bodily and mental harm to His Majesty will lead to severe punishment for the immediate family of the subject."

Her fingers trembled as she signed the last line with her name and initials. The secretary took the sheet and slipped it back into the briefcase. The woman gave a cold smile. "Rest assured, as long as you cooperate, your family will be looked after". She stood up, and motioned for Clarissa to follow. They exited the room, the two guards following behind. Their faces were emotionless, and Clarissa awkwardly looked away.

His Majesty was waiting in his bedroom when Clarissa arrived with the secretary. Clarissa gasped when she saw the room. It was huge, larger than the dingy one bedroom flat she rented. Her shock increased when she saw the sovereign at last. The king was a private person, so private that no one aside from his most trusted advisors and guards even knew what he looked like. Well, now Clarissa knew.

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this is op's amazing video and i want to know who is voice actor of this video
video name is Poison Sting

this is op's amazing video and i want to know who is voice actor of this video
video name is Poison Sting

Tales from the Canterlot Mortuary is a collection of stories surrounding the mortician Mort Momento and looking through the many corpses that head his way, figuring out their means of death, carrying out their terms for a funeral, and having some fun along the way.

This first entry is more of a pilot story. I had written it a long while ago (like a couple of years now) and I'm just now deciding to publish it here. If you have any ideas for future entries, please suggest them in this format:

Name: (this would be a character from MLP. It might branch out to other series, but for now, it's MLP. If your suggestion is an OC, please link to their appearence)
Cause of Death: (how did they die and how were they found at the crime scene?)
Death Outfit: (how were they dressed when they were processed by CSI?)
Funeral Arrangements: (what, if anything, have they requested happen to them for their funeral?)

Without further to do, let's begin!

Bittersweet (Pinkie Pie, 2nd person)

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I just think it's neat

This is sexy, but I can't find the source, please help

Did anyone else growing up like the chose your own adventure deaths? I wish I could find the books and re-read some of them, I found some posted online, but most are just the pictures not the story parts anyone know where to get them?

Best ones I remember were:

the one you become a animal, and one of them has you turning into a zebra and getting eaten by lions.

Another one had to do with ghosts in a ghost town and your char gets stabbed in the back had some pics I really liked.

Last honorable mention, had you trying to escape from a snake, and you have two options going in the past or the future, if you chose the future you end up in the snakes stomach digesting.

Solo art 14 b

Okay, so I made a thing, a weird thing, in a whim. I hope you like it.

—

"Suzie, pleaaaaaase!" Tim begged. "I really need to pass this test. I haven't studied at all!" he explained.

"No." the blonde girl said firmly.

"Suzie! We need your help." Leah repeated after her friend. "Just this one time!" the brunette with short hair asked.

Suzanne sighed. It was always like this before the finals. Everyone knew that she had the best grades, so they were circling her, asking for advice here, there, and everywhere. "How about trying to study instead of begging my help? You know, it might help." the girl said tired. "Not to even talk about the idea." she said, barely resisting the urge to facepalm to the two. It was always fun to go and chat and hang around with the two, but sometimes their whims made her reconsider the friendship. It had been just a few weeks ago when Tim had gotten a great idea to try to climb on the roof of the school building. He had almost broken his foot when he had tried to climb the school's wall. Leah wasn't as bad as Tim, but she often got excited and dragged into the ideas of Tim. Like this time.

The three were standing just outside the doors of a local grocery store. They had been walking to get some snacks before the last exam of the semester, mathematics of course, when Tim had told them his brand new and absolutely flawless idea for how he could beat the exam without studying for it at all. And as far as Suzie had observed, without studying almost at all at the class during whole semester.

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Did someone save the thread with beautiful poems about autumn? I remember it vividly, (at least some of)the poems were in Russian, they were about fall, as the season of decay, and in one image she held up a gun to her head. The thread was from the old gurochan.

Pt 1.

Thank God, it wasn’t cold. I mean it shouldn’t be, it’s early may, but maybe my standing on the Greek theater of campus without a shred of clothing had something to do with it. Some of the first-year students in the podiums are already snapchatting. I can’t really blame them, I’m flattered, and really the more people see this the better.

The hilt of this knife is cold, wood, and shaped like a large penis. It’s amazing what your local carpenter will do for you if you say it’s for a “project”. My thesis advisor is the one who suggested the guy, cute, but a bit of a creep. Speaking of my advisor, there she is, in the middle of the front row, gorgeous, short skirt and shirt with the first two buttons undone, god what a slut, a sexy, super-smart, chain-smoking, slave-driving slut.

“Hi, everyone, I am Halley Valentina, my performance titled ‘The Other Sex’ explores the woman’s body as an object of anatomy. I wish to show, that beneath all this objectified beauty, there really is flesh and blood. That behind all the poetry about the feminine beauty, there is nothing but filth and gore, same as the ugliest man alive. Accompanying this performance will be Michael,” I quickly gesture backstage to a male porn star naked but wearing a blindfold.

“This performance is my final master’s thesis in feminist performance art theory, under Dr. Kate Pappi.” My advisor nods.

“Let’s begin”, I say, and with the same breath gently press the knife just below my sternum. This is it, I think. The crowd is deathly silent.

It doesn’t hurt, like at all, not at first. I slowly and meticulously bring the knife down, keeping my eyes at the crowd. Everyone has their phones out, as blood accumulates and slowly drips down the blade. I must hold the knife steadier and dig deep down as I come nearer my belly button, to cut through my abdominal muscles. I feel a sense of pride that my abdominal muscles are giving the resistance that they are, all those months of intense training have paid off.

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