this little guy is awesome.
This little guy is awesome
Carson Reyes
David Roberts
The slap was staged. Dilate.
Oliver Barnes
Please someone post some copy pastas about torturing this minge and his freakish family.
Connor Ortiz
Any Forums is Warwick territory now lad. Take it out on lil' Dinklage next time
Luis Morris
I wanna strap him to like 10 balloons and watch him fly up into the atmosphere
Aiden Thomas
midge
Andrew Lee
How would you go about the ideal torture for someone like Warwick?
The sort of torture that you wouldn’t accidentally kill him but when you kill him it cannot be as a mercy or a relief to him it must be something that’ll leave him with unending despair im think something like the same ending that the photographer guy get at the end of the first saw movie.
Starve him long enough that he’ll eat the rotten corpse of his children.
Alexander Morgan
come frens do the dance of joy with me
Xavier Stewart
"Hostel" remake but with midges when?
Aiden Murphy
Warwick will never be a lad all pinklege has done has put him next in line beside Warwick has his wife and children to be dealt with before we move onto the dwarf.
Hunter Roberts
Imagine if that was Warwick going up on stage instead and he did a little jump to do it.
Ryan Reyes
>tfw you’ll never put a blowtorch to Warwick’s face.
Austin White
LOL. Watching his stubby legs kicking frantically as he gains height. Then when he gets high enough to die from the fall, start shooting at the balloons with an air gun - remember he's based in the UK, we have no fire arms. Hopefully he plummets on a set of railings like Charles Bronson's daughter in Death Wish 2.
Aiden Collins
All minges must die
Alexander Cruz
Overkill, you’d only need 3 or 4. Or a good prank would be to hand him one extra strength balloon with triple the gas density inside. He’d grab on and immediately be carried by the wind; his little legs kicking, reaching for anything solid to touch. They find only the air. Once he’s 6 or 7 inches off the ground he’s too far up to safely let go so he’ll be holding on for dead life.
Elijah Morris
pic related
William Taylor
>There's a difference between a little person and a dwarf...
>One of them's a fuckin dwarf. And they both know which one it fucking is! Don't give me that shite!
Oliver Bennett
You think Dinkler fucked Warwick’s wife just because he could?
David Young
Elijah Nelson
What sort of cruel cunt would have kids, knowing full well they'll end up with fucked up conditions like that?
Just adopt, you little gremlin.
Brandon Hernandez
This summer...
In a role of a lifetime...
Warwick Davis is...
PUTIN: The Return of Evil
Charles Roberts
I, for one, would like to stick my thumbs into Warick Davis's eye sockets. I want to feel his ocular organs squish into a bloody, viscous pulp beneath the soft, yielding flesh of my fingertips. I want to hear his screams of absolute terror and pain as he realizes he'll never see again.
Then, I would remove my thumbs from his eyesockets, giving him a brief respite as I grabbed a pair of barbeque tongs and a dull butterknife. with the tongs I would pluck out his ruined eyeballs and sever the optic nerves with the butter knife. at this point I would already have a hot plate going with a buttered pan ready to crudely sautee Warwick's juicy macula. As they sizzled in the pan, he would smell them, and after having been starved for days on end, he might even have the nerve to comment about how good whatever I was cooking smelled - not being able to see what it was, of course.
"Here, try some." I would offer, giving him a heaping spoonful of the fried, well-seasoned sight-flesh. He would gobble it down eagerly, begging for more like the deformed goblin he was, still not aware of what he was eating. I would feed him the rest, and only after he had eaten it all would I tell him what it truly was.
As he screamed in horror and retched, I would put my thumbs into his empty eyesockets for the last time. I would drive them deep, deep into his empty ocular cavities, until I broke through the fragile bone and began to push my fingers into his brain. Slowly, his musical shrieking of pain and terror would abate as his brain becomes too damaged to operate his vocal cords, let alone comprehend what is happening to him.
At this point, I place my massive, throbbing erection in front of his vegetative face and begin to powerfuck his eye sockets. In and out, in and out, over and over, until his brains are nothing more than a mess of dead cells and tangled dendrites. As I climaxed, I would push myself balls deep into his skull, seed mixing with ruined neurons in a perverse cocktail.
Blake Brown
based
Tyler Jackson
His deformed wife and sickly mangled children will serve me in the afterlife when I burn them alive in a car then shoot myself. They'll be my servants for eternity, being used to please me and lesser demons.
Lincoln Hill
Imagine this guy yelling at you. No, this isn’t just a meme post, just imagine it. You’ve had some kind of altercation in public, and before you is this deformed little creature, this sickeningly morphed little fucking gnome, screaming at you. The veins on his forehead popping out, his eyes bloodshot and his infuriating little brick head bright red as he spits out his curses. Modern society would have you believe this gruesome, odious midget it your equal, that you should stand here and take this. But that’s counter to your intuition and you know it. Your mind races back to the days of your ancestors, how their burning souls would have been inflamed by such a confrontation, this freak, this hideous little THING thinking it has right to talk to you in such a manner. That primal instinct kicks in, and without hesitation you do the sensible thing and let the foul goblin know it’s place- you stride forward with righteous zeal, his shouts cease for a moment. This is unexpected to the annoying little fuck, a flash of panic crosses his malformed, elongated cartoonish face as it contorts suddenly into a comical farce of what on a normal human would resemble fear. He almost trips stepping backward, the illusion of his right to speak, right to live, manufactured authority over you shattering as he can only let out a brief plea “No!” before you are upon him. A hook cracks right, that satisfying crunch as it connects with the hideous creature, the feeling of a bullet ripped from the barrel of a gun as your rage explodes into controlled, refined physical force. You feel his weak and unnatural bones twist and crunch around your knuckles, his flesh contort as you see his terrified and utterly shocked face fold around your fist. All for a glorious moment, before he crumples and folds like some kind of warped fleshy paper, his deformed little freak cartoon body falling like sand over the ground as the facade of his equality dissolves under nature.