I Love Hate Reading My Own Angst And Being Like

I love hate reading my own angst and being like

"Who would write such evil things"

Me, I would

Let get food chapter 3 snipping

Not edited at all

“Good boy”

They walked away

Leaving asher blushing and flustered

While they ordered asher tried to calm himself

But every time he felt okay their voice replayed in his head

Praising him

It was a form of torture he was secretly enjoying

When the returned

Full of life and smiling

His heart only beat faster, as his face reddened

“ You okay man? You're not allergic to peanuts are you?”

They joked, they knew asher was very proud of being allergic to nothing

Asher admired their face, so full of color, he wasn't use to it like that, at least not any more

He nervously stammered

“No, no . I'm not allergic to anything.”

He laughed A little

Making darlin laugh

“Well you're all red?”

Asher just continued to laugh in return

Then darlin had a revelation, they took their spit at the table

Leaning over the table to quietly share what they think

“ is it because I called you a good boy”

me? cheating? please! my family raised addicts not cheaters!

An abandoned amusement park, probably unsafe, I'll do something safer tonight

@professionallyyappinabtangst

"oh what's that? "vampire tends to your injuries"? ehhh maybe not"

I’d like to imagine, not for any good reason, that Adam is still alive. But not whole.

Very illogical ramble below:

I’d like to think his decapitated head is sitting far away from his limp body. Adam’s eyes have seen every crevasse of the basement room, he’s counted every brick on the wall, every strand of web spun the the spiders who inhabit the room. He’s watched his blood oxidise and turn into dust. He’s watched his body decay and be eaten by animals who’d stumble upon it.

But Adam’s head still rests there, still alive. Vampires don’t need their heart, what good is blood circulation to an already undead being. They don’t need air, what good are the lungs in his chest. Without his stomach he no longer feels his own hunger. But his mind does. All he knows is the taste of Lovely’s blood, all he craves, all he ever thinks about. One last touch, one last look, one last taste. One drop and he’d be satiated.

He’d wonder if they still said his name instead of Vincent’s, if their cries of ‘no’ still came out as ‘more’, wondered if their blood still tasted like heaven. Oh how he’d relish in the thought.

Adam’s decapitated head still sentient as he hears Bright Eyes and Fred getting attacked by Quinn, Adam hearing Sam turn them, Adam laughing at the irony of it all.

Adam’s decapitated head seeing the light as another vampire hears his laughter. Adam feeling touch as he’s moved from his home on the basement floor.

Adam’s living, seeing, knowing head sitting mounted on a wall as a piece of Quinn’s collection.

Adam wondering, but never asking, why there’s another podium next to him, a named place with no head. Adam reading the name ‘Samuel Collins’ over and over again, wondering who would be placed next to him after all his time alone.

Me: Okay, Brain. Think about what happens next in this chapter.

Brain: *Skips three chapters ahead*

Me: No, no. This one, this chapter, the one we are writing right now.

Brain:.......*47 scenes forward*

Me: NO