` love me dead ! [storeh][PG-13]

[Storeh]

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[bg=#000000] Fuel. Tender. Tender? Compassionate touchings filled with yearning with strictly the acts of star-crossed-lovers. This relationship, fragmented beyond repair, disrepair, was not the whimsical happenings of the aged fairy-tales. There was no handsome prince, there was not a love at first sight, the blood seeping through the dresses would never cease. Loosing. Slipping. Separated by the thin binding sheet. Spyder could feel the borders slipping, a feral snarl rippling as the stallion was taken down. The jerking of his minding muscles as the rhythmatic transgression of the brute continued on with mere primal succession. Break. Something was about to break. The edges were far past the paper-thin, broken bottles inside scars. Every motion was torture, and it was bliss-passion-lust-memories rolled into one horrible second of terror. Those wretched canines scraped along the rising crescendo of her neck, arching with succession for she seemed to be lost within herself. Reality. Snap. Back. Then, it broke, less like a dam and more like the snap of a rope. Yet, the monster was not what was set free. Practical matters. This is not what you want. Some trash you are ravishing for the sating of your own sadistic manners. Fool! Thief! Why can't you just murder the pool hapless whore instead of wallowing in the pity you create! Yes, watch them suffer. The balance was tilted now, but it continued without the transgression of the mind. There was just no stopping what was the inevitable. There was just no stopping. A horrible shriek, gut-wrenching screech! More than the high-pitched laughter of a madman about to push himself over the edge. Spikes. Driven into the soul with hammer and nail! Bleed me Doctor! My heart is about to snap! The maniacal tone was shrill, shriller than the tongue of death that so casually beckoned to him. High. Pitched. And. Screaming. One by dreadful one he plucked individual hairs from the nape of her mane, as if plucking the strands of a harp's strings, making the angel's music with her screams. The teeth where gentle, but the eyes were ice, fire, shockingly smoothingly eccentric with the depths as cyanide. The brute knew the pain he wanted, the flavor, the vivid taste only she knew. The musical ballet, an orgy, an ode, a devious dance to the tormented souls of the damned. now, let us not be overenthusiastic in our describing. He was turning her inside out, but at the consequence, the lovely need for her to hate him with every single. itsy. bitsy. fabric. of her delicate. fragile. oh-so-breakable. form. Kill the itsy bitsy Spyder, though he is the puppeteer, my angel. He plays you better than a violin, a fiddle, tuning you to what he wants as you can only give in. Fight as you will. Fight as you must. He is someone you might just trust. Thrust. Thrust. Push. It. Harder. He was still going, he was still full and hot, still pulsing and pounding and breaking and cracking and bashing her little frame. Wanted to wedge between her ribs and force the sections apart with himself. There was not a tire in his muscles, nor a cramp in the style, harder, faster, hotter, longer. Spyder was new, Spyder was fresh, and the sweat on his pelt was worse than the blood that ran stagnant through his veins. Another thrust sank him deeper as she tore. Tearing. Bleeding. Why? Would his little play-thing ever survive. This beating? Only time would tell. Only it would give him the answer to the question left unasked. If I go under, you will too. My angel. Meet your demon, in the shadows of your mind. When you met me you thought you'd kill me, thought I was merely insane. Hiding in my skin and shaking in my bones. Fool! FOOL! Can you kill me now? Can you touch me now? Every scar you gave me signifies you can't escape. Even when I die-HA! Death is my buddy! My Pal! MY FRIEND! You will not hide. You will not die. You will live forever in this place where I reign. True love never dies, true pain never lies, and the crimson I have painted on your skin is more than a testament. I own you. Spyder was about to burst, but was not ready. Never would he be, in all honesty, ready to give her his spawn. The child would be crushed within his jaws. Blood, more than before, pooled like permanent plaster at their feet. Hers. His. It was theirs. It had always been theirs.

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Muse: Through the Roof.
OOC: Creepily the creepy creeper creeped behind the trees.
Music: My Chemical Romance {Anything and Everything}

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[L Y N X !]

Ashia

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Impossible, improbable, inconcieveable! What was locked up in the deep, cracked shards of her mind were open like a book, easily read by the presence stirring in the confines of her skull, writhing in glee of what it found, mad laughter vibrating throughout. it feels like tragedy's at hand.. an accident? such twitsed little lies, mare. vanity is such a sin.. Memories flashed in her mind's eye, like a movie screen projector. Younger version of herself. A cheery brindled mare. A handsome black stallion.. A whirlwind of emotions devoured the mare, and for a couple seconds instance, all her agony and the assault on her body was forgotten. Jealousy, that she didn't have a chance. Hatred, that she was better. Triumph, that she had ripped them apart. Heartbreak, that he still didn't love her, even though she got rid of the only horse standing in their way to being us. And then, betrayal! Oh, how it was such a slap to the face. He said he was going to snitch, afraid to accept that his little Maria was gone from him. And how she laughed at him, such a horrible, twisted laugh, that made him know that if she couldn't have him, no one can, ever again. Needless to say, his blood was sweeter than candy on her lips.

Pluck. Pluck. Pluck. It was the thing that brought her back to reality with a snap, a slight jerk of her bodice that was slowly caving in. The agony returned, fresh and vivid, and Spyder was still going within her encased womb with vigor. Lesson learned, though resistance was futile. There was no escape, no way out. She was his ragdoll to be taken, beaten, ripped limb from limb and skull placed on a stake. But there was a part of her he could not touch, no matter how he may stake claim to it by ripping it out of her chest. Cheesy as it may sound, her heart. It was untouchable, untaintable. Love never dies, it was true. She had loved him with all her aching being, but she realized her grave mistake in taking his life. Till death do us part... they had been reunited. It had driven her mad with the thought. She had lost! After all the effort she had placed, foiled by the relief of death. She would never be able to join the innocent, her death would be welcomed into the arms of demons. And she would accept it embrace it - God had turned has back on her! The proof was infront of her, ontop of her, ripping her from the inside, widening the tear he had created.

Blood rose from the depths of her throat, flooding her mouth and drizzling out of the corners of her maw, gleaming proudly on her face. Ashia's head began to pound, her vision swam and a wave of heat and dizziness passed over her as she stumbled forward with a desperate swipe at the Earth. Her body screamed in protest, but she only laughed in hysteria, blood splattering on the ground like a scene from a horror movie. Her hindquarters buckled on shaken legs, trying to free herself from the violent imprisionment she was eduring. Would it end? Certainly, not on her own terms. But it was worth trying to break the chains if it meant it was going to stop, even if it meant for just an instant. easier to wring its neck..

God sent you to tear me o p e n..
ooc: xx
music: screaming bloody murder - sum 41
word count: xx

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[Storeh]

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[bg=#000000] Reflection. Miniscule fault lines thinly etched in paneless glass. An intricate web of a spider's days, this one product the only calling for its hanging. It had made its own coffin with every single second of its life. Pity? Testament. We all dig our own graves. Spyder's was far deeper than most. A way to keep the hellion in when the breathing finally stopped. Behind the lids, these cracks whispered, widening to chip away, only to reveal what lay underneath. Lies. Or Truth. The entire world was a manner of perspective. You see high. I see low. You are a fabricated illusion made by yourself. There is no you. No reality. Is this why you hide in your hide? Created. Falsely committed. Deserving to life forever. Infinity. Snap my neck. There is no rest. Walking wire, wearing thin. Snap. Tear. Rip. Wear. Crushing your skull. No! Crushing my own skull! Penance in regretful wishes. Will they come around? Philosophy was useless to a brute deranged. Explosion inside. The End. The End. When the end came it was drawn, burning brand, less of scorching flesh with sick scent but the finality of final deed. Seed. Warmth. Unwanted by the stallion in himself, unwanted by the world as whole. A flourish to sign the soul away. Goodbye! Farewell! Features contorted as the dismount was made, extraction serrated. No expression. Vacancy? But disgust. Filth. Common filth lay practically crumpled at his feet. Used. Discarded. For good reason. Calm, deathly calm collection of thoughts. Spyder should be the gentleman and put this pitiful, miserable creature out of her mundane, meaningless, minimal existence. Down for. This would not be the last. Oh yes, that was clear. Tendons were hardly laxed, sweat feverishly drying, steaming, giving him another glance. Demon? Murderer? Not to her yet. A tilt of the head, flick of the ear. Mercy? Extended to this? No. Unworthy. This stag cared none for the fea. None. She was hideous to him just as the world was cold. Collected. Snapping. Faulting. Famous last words. 'Not even you deserved that. I would say that I would be the one filled with empathy, but I will not kill you from pity. Are you broken now? Violated? Sated? Pray to your god to save you before the one that is me returns.' There was of no use that she could do to him, pathetic the state she be. This act was not his doing, tone monotone as well as distant, with an aura of preacher speech to child. Measured. Composure. A rigid statue as splinters formed underneath his skin. There was a growing sensation sweeping. Flickering nail bites, scampering feet. Hair standing on nearsighted end. Spiders crawling under the flesh, seeking escape. Leaving traces of tainted. A quake, a thousand! Mind flashed as teeth lashed out to tear chunks of his flesh. Tearing! Tore! Get. It. Out. I. Feel. Them. Under. My. Skin. Crimson arched through the air in time with his squeals, and snorts, bites of stained skin collecting in the branches entangled. Embedded. Polished teeth where gleaming, eyes teeming with shreds, dripping acid to the floor as he turned. Mare. Fare thee well. Bare the creature for all to see, the flashing pictures in those terrible eyes. Such horrible things! So many more to be done. Whole. WHOLE. Ashia was still whole. Shame. Shame. More. More. Soon this be all adored. Already, the need to caress the skin with his fangs built. Built. Threads of sinew graced his maw in tangles. Mats. Then, with motions swaying as if in tune. He walked. Yes, he walked. Away. Humming. Singing. That same song. 'The itsy bitsy Spyder bathing in a bloody 'fount. Crawling down your throat to eat your stomach out. You puke me back up and hold me in your hands. See me in the nightmares, bashing in your head.'

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Muse: Through the Roof.
OOC: Creepily the creepy creeper creeped behind the trees.
Music: My Chemical Romance {Anything and Everything}

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