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Divine F*ckery


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Spring Taylor

Being mindful not to snap this ciggy, trousers are pulled back up and zipped. “That wasn’t a f-cking invitation you daft meat virgin.” She doesn’t even look at him as she starts to move forward. Spring is the type of @sshole that makes the crowd move away from her. Damned be anyone in her way at the time. She shoulder checks, shoves, f-cking kicks, backhands children like she’s f-cking Moses parting the sea of plebeians. After taking the last drag she carelessly flicks the cig in a random direction. Not even looking to see what random poor sod gets nailed with a lit cig butt to their collar.

“Why the f-ck have you never ate anyone? Russians and Americans are the f-cking worst. Lard @rse f-ckers.” It wasn’t that long ago she was one of these ..people. But, she didn’t dwell on the days when the gaggle of children squared up over who got the last bit of casserole. The f-cking invisible unicorns those birth tweakers saw always ate f-cking first. Now, she didn’t have to wait. Gone were the days she would be stuck in her room listening to the sound of Billy Joel’s cassette tape from Twig’s hot stereo. A conniving grin appears for a few seconds of nostalgia, that her husband finally offed his f-cking self.

Spring’s voice projects irritably at the people that get in the way of their walk to the Scientology building. Evolving from her peckish state earlier, she’s getting f-cking hangry. “Move the f-ck out of our way. Stupid gits.” Every now and then she went toe to toe, usually with some bloke trying to redeem their masculinity. The very idea that a girl could shove them to the ground chapped their hind raw. She walks right into a wall of a man, and finds herself bending backward from the impact. His refusal to budge made her already hellish ire ignite a further step. She leaps up using the bottom of her boots to trample the man, Her legs scissor around the neck as her right fist swings unmercifully against his face.

Gray Taylor may have sang his heart out to Gaga in a closet, but his Jewish apprentice created the angriest renditions of Billy Joel classics. Especially when she was hangryaf. For example, she’s snapping with her left thumb and middle finger, while she decks with her right. Grudgingly grunting to ‘The Longest Time’ by Billy Joel. The walking mammoth tries to pry off the small rabid season. There’s blood dripping down her nose when he headbutts her, but she tightens her thighs around his neck like a rogue Python. Until one twist later and the inevitable snap of his neck. He timbers down as she moves her knees to dig into his unmoving chest. Spring is clearly still miffed about her nose, as she rubs the blood off with the back of her palm. Using all the strength rage gave her, she punches through the chest cavity and hooks her fingers around the man’s slowing heart. Yanking it forward she glares at any bystanders foreshadowing the same thing would happen to them if they detoured the pair.

Bringing the bloody heart to her lips she takes a small drink from it. Between the blood splatter from her vic and the blood that fell from her crooked nose it was hard to say which was more prominent. She lifts both bloody hands, and the heart, up to snap her nose back into place. Sipping the heart like some kid and a juice box, she starts her way back to the scientology building. Spring never hid what kind of monster she was, what the f-k were these pvssies going to do about it? Jack f-cking sh-te. They hadn’t done anything when she murdered for realm politics. Why would they even f-cking fart near her for killing a pedestrian they didn’t know?

Finally she points a bloody finger at a gaudy building. Where the words were framed with possibly real gold, and all that went inside appeared to be dressed to the nine. The statutes that usually would hold the saints, instead holds golden globes. As if they advertise to the world, ‘ We are rich mother f-ckers.” The doors made of the sturdiest wood. Silently she’s sure that she can use the wooden door to their favor to smash some d-cktard’s face against it.

Spring casts a glare to Nate, catching back up to his stride, chewing on the left ventricular of the disconnected heart. She’s still fuming, steaming like a tea kettle from her blood spotted ears. Yet, she doesn’t seem as f-cking angry as before. ”I forgot my f-cking clear level at home. But that won’t stop these f-cking chavs from becoming my f-cking tw@t burger. Be ready to fcking taste what you’ve blimey missed”
October 30, 2017 12:35 am
Actives (12) Fresh Blood (0) View All The Fallen (3) Graveyard
Isabeau LaSalle, Circe De Pont, Cristina Scabbia, Lesprit, Spring Taylor, Mallory Quarters, L A Doneoven, Ofelia Salazar, Orangesrlife, Cameal Ham, Fall, Nick Clark    Caera Marie
Delouis Whamchest
Sky Jackson 
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