#ask-chad-warwick

He was craving into a body of some girl. Her screams kept piercing into the dark sky and Drake wondered if anyone would come save her. If anyone would care for the girl. If anyone would notice her missing.

Probably not.

But she continued to scream. Drake started to think she was just screaming for him. He liked it. Pulling her skin back the blonde looked down at the girl. "Stop squirming or this will hurt more." Starting down at her open chest, he watched her lungs pound against her rib cage, and her heart beat rapidly in fear. He wanted that heart. Reaching carefully Drake pulled on the sternum until it snapped in his hands.

When Jim Kirk dropped his back and the entrance to his newly purchased house, his bags hit the floor with a bit of an overwhelming echo. The house looked old but it was well taken care of, everything repainted and polished and much of the furniture already there. He didn't know for the life of him why the house had been so cheap, but he wasn't about to turn down a good deal, not one like this. Curiously Jim stepped forward, picking one of his bags up again to take it upstairs to the master bedroom he had seen the first time he had looked at the place. 

It was a cozy room with a big bed. He didn't really have sheets for it, just a comforter and a pillow that he had taken when he had finally had the chance to leave Sam's house. Jim sat at the end of the bed and looked around with a little smile on his lips, running his fingers along the bed post, glancing around. 

He had a huge house to himself, he was alone and able to pay for things himself (though he was pushing it, this house was a good deal but it wasn't exactly cheap), but he was excited for the independence he had been craving since before him and Sam had even got out of Frank's. 

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September 17, 2013

Why did it take me so long to find Chad? Why hadn't he appeared to me first, instead of Tate? Then again, I'd probably still be alive if I had met him first...or I would've committed suicide to stay with him. He doesn't like it when I talk about suicide, or being sad, or hurting myself. I think it's because that makes him feel like he's the one who failed, when in reality it's just me that screws everything up.

How can he think I'm perfect? How can he think that I'm worth anything? My death didn't even make the newspaper -- no one knows I'm dead except for the other ghosts, and Constance. It's not fair, no one will ever know. No one will ever know what happened to Violet Harmon, and I'll just be another female caucasian fatality statistic. Why couldn't have someone just have found my bones?

I think that Chad should really stop being so down on himself. Then again, he's just the male version of what I'm doing, so I understand why he gets frustrated when I'm down on myself. It's a vicious cycle, really. It's slightly ironic, in the way that nobody laughs, but everybody sees it. Chad makes me happy, though. I hope I make him happy. I want to do something special for him on Halloween, but I don't know what yet...

Sincerely,

Black: I would date you.

Green: I think you’re cute.

Blue: You are my tumblr crush.

Purple:  I really love your blog.

Teal: We have a lot in common.

Yellow: FUCK ME, LET’S FUCK.

White: Marry me.