Fiery Little Thing

by Avina St. Graves

but dick for brains doesn’t notice the warpath I’m on, too distracted by Blaze to realize he’s about to fucking die.

😂👑🤴🏻

A trip to the shrink isn’t enough. I need to be put down.

Then she touched me—well, she slapped me. But she chose to put her hand on me. Me. And god it makes me giddy to think she willingly put her hand on me. She chose to slap me.

😂😂😂😂

If I have to admit that I’m wrong about something or apologize, I’m going to throw up.

Mood

“You put him in the hospital!” He has the audacity to look disappointed. “I was aiming for the morgue.”

“So hate me, Thief. Tell me you want me dead because you’re the only reason I’d end up in a grave.”

I would turn this earth into cinders—strike a single match and set this horrible world ablaze—if she asked me to.

Goals

“I told you bad things happen to people who touch what isn’t theirs. Let’s make it to the morgue this time, shall we, Thief?” I’ve never nodded so quickly. It makes the corners of his lips twitch up.

I told you once, your death is mine, Thief. If anyone makes you cry, then their death is yours. I just need to know if you want it served on a silver platter or gold.”

I want her heart to beat easily the second she wakes up in the morning. I want her to smile for the sake of smiling. Laugh, cry tears of joy, skip around until she’s shitting fucking rainbows. I want her to be happy. And if everyone has to die for that to happen, then I better get good at digging graves.

🥹

I will find you, even in another lifetime. If you’re in hell, then I’ll burn willingly. My soul is yours, Thief.”