Angst Starter Masterlist

he says that out of SPITE, out of his own PRIDE; he does it to grind into his skin.  

his mouth opens and closes in a grimace, wide and ugly as his throat grunts.  his thoughts rage, words trapped just beyond him as tangles of chords lay from his neck - a dangling pile of soundless voice.  eyebrows knit in frustration and eyes avert to stare at the dirt on his cheeks as what remains of him lays sideways.  if he had hands…

if he had hands, he wouldn’t know where to begin.  perhaps the neck; such an easy, accessible choice.  but there were ways to make it slower, ways to savour the blood-splatter for hours.  the organs were always a treat, leaving stabbing pain that would numb into dull heartbeats - that is, until they were pierced again and again and again, never resting, never a moments peace.  and then he would move onto the more sensitive things…eyes…fingers…tongue…

yes, he knows now where to begin.  he’d start with the heretics tongue, if only he could.  he itches for it, almost drools over the thought of giving the disrespectful bastard a lesson.  a simple cut at the tip to start with would get the show going, and he could only writhe further in his own pleasure from there.  

happiness is but an understatement.  o’lord, he is beyond ecstatic.  he is in pure ecstasy.  when he’s finally gone, his soul will fly.  his lord will exercise his divine power and his lord will make this little fuck s u f f e r.  

if only he knew, as he proclaims himself HIS god.  you are your own downfall.  

you are your own downfall.