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I suppose my third century of life, or whatever one can call this, has made me a teensy-bit unhinged. But it’s not like I can rely on the cops to actually do their job.
And frankly, men are like plants, if you don’t water them, they’ll die, and I don’t have a green thumb.
It makes me twitchy not having her nearby. Like I’ve lost something vital, and I’ll be the one bleeding out on the ground without it.
Obsession is quickly becoming too mild of a word for what I feel.
The club opening is tonight and she’s dead set on dressing me, or should I say undressing me, in the least amount of clothes possible. “Why can’t I just wear this?” Waving my hands at my jeans, leather jacket and t-shirt
I'm shocked you didn't also mention only wearing chucks while you were at it
Riffling through her closet she pulls out the same mini dress but in black. “How about we compromise on this one?” I sigh holding my hand out for it, accepting defeat. At least it’s black. “Fine but I’m wearing my leather jacket on top of it.”
I swear she's written to be the most insufferable not-like-other-girls girl rn
I’m practically humping her like a dog, and I’d let her leash me any day.
at least he's funny
I’ve come to accept the deaths of my family and friends, but every once in a while, I find a soul I know I will mourn when their time comes.
Celine is mine. I can’t help but want to get to know her, though. Slowly. Properly. She’s human and deserves to be courted. I want to do things right with her. The way she’d expect.
Except I’m me, and if I’m honest with myself I can never do things the ‘normal’ way.
I might be a lot of things; killer, stalker, psychopath—but I won’t take advantage of my mate like that.
I feel my muscles shift to a predatory stance
truly some golden writing going on here
Celine. My mate. This can’t be the end. She doesn’t know how big of a dick I have yet. I’m going to die and she doesn’t even know. This is the worst.
this is trying SO HARD to be quirky/funny
Blood steadily pumps out of the slices,
like how could this possibly be true if we just established that older vamps don't even have hearts?? like I'm just asking for a shred of continuity
“Zavier, you better not be dead! I haven’t gotten to interrogate you Detective Brennan style yet!”
I hate this, she's not even being funny this is 100% genuine
but now that immediate danger is out of the way I’m back to a state of what in the fuckery is this.
I haaaaaaate thiiiiissssss
“You never know when your last I love you is, so sprinkle them around like confetti.”
“Whoa. That’s freaking sharp.”
of all things, it seems this is the straw that broke the camels back. I’m out.
