a collection of thoughts that always abruptly en

Let me be vital. / I want to burn myself out. #39 Poetry - 11/6/16.

what a strange feeling

Hudson Ellis is good at his job. Somehow, he manages not to annoy people when he knocks at their doors and asks them to contribute to the charity he works for - instead, he gets them to sign up for sponsoring programmes and fish whatever spare change they have out of their pockets. Even the infamously tough residents of New York City are falling victim to Hudson's easy-going ways and wide smile; that is, until one woman renders him speechless with sarcastic refusals and slams her door in his face. Perhaps Hudson would be able to forget her - if it wasn't for the fact that she lives on the same floor of the next apartment over, and they both have floor-to-ceiling windows that allow for a rather generous view into each other's flats.

Of one thing she was sure: it can't be normal to get addicted to a voice, no matter how charming it is. It all started because of a small mistake. Something so trivial, it could happen to anyone. Could it be that there are no coincidences? *Awesome new cover made by the lovely @thelessthanthreegirl. Thank you so much! I love it :D*

All boys will grow into men.

Moira King had been cheated on, stabbed in the back, and broken beyond repair --be it her father, her best friend, or her boyfriend; she's had enough. So, with that in mind, she gave up on the idea of finding love and opted to become a mother through sperm donation. That way, she could have a child, sans having to possibly bear another heartbreak. With the baby on the way, her life went uphill. Until one day. ---------------------------------- WARNING: the majority of this story is unedited and there are a lot of plot holes. This was the first book I ever wrote at 15 years old, and I don't agree with the majority of its contents anymore, so expect the worst. In fact, please don't even read it ✨ Cover: beingellie

She'd shown up at the bookstore every day since the start of the winter season with a pen, a journal, and a pad of post-it notes stuffed in her bag. She spoke in metaphors, and sarcasm rolled off of her tongue like it was second nature to her. Her name was December, and Greyson Kaye couldn't keep himself from falling hopelessly in love with her.

this is the backwards story of how i [lost my mind] fell in love. lowercase intended. #83 in poetry | #150 in short story | 14-11-14

//Werewolf. Runaway. Prisoner// Annabel Young stands on the precarious edge between our world and the Otherworld: a dark, underground society of vampires, werewolves and witches. Ruled by three brothers, - Victor, Nikolai and Ragnar - the Otherworld is on the brink of war. Packs are hunted to near extinction, and Magicfolk are used in back-alley experiments. For the vampires, the party never ends, the champagne never stops flowing and they are superior. By day, Annabel spends her time as a Florist-in-training. The pay isn't bad and the customers are pleasant enough. She tries not to think of home; of the lakehouse or the accident. But there's only so far she can run. And the past has finally caught up with her. Kidnapped by vampires and forced to fight her own kind for their entertainment, Annabel can't quite believe her rotten luck. Being unaffiliated, she knows she has no one else to rely on to get herself out of this dangerous situation. That is, until she makes an unlikely ally in Ragnar, the youngest of the three undead brothers, who has more than one secret up his sleeve.