Texas.

“If you hypothetically shoot up, will the bullet fall on your head?” Hypothetically.

“Mister doctor, I think this is a good time to tell you: I’m kind of alone & stupid.” A weak grin, scratching his face as he rested against his seat.

Lazy little stretch, with a brand new shoulder. “Good morning.”

“They’re a bunch of freaks.” The Seraphites won’t leave him alone.

“I am: not okay.”

“I am so close to letting them just shove an arrow in my head.”

Finger guns. “I use jokes to cope with my inability of facing real situations.”

/ someone find out abou Bastien’s bite pLs & thank u

Deep inhale. Haha. Why can’t his hands stop shaking?

It’s drowning your sorrows in vodka hours!

/ I love this, he’s stupid & sweet

If they find out, he’s dead. . . But what is he supposed to do?

Bursts into loud, nervous laugh. “W—What?! Are you crazy?!”

“Mother Nature, please take me away already.”

No one tell the good doctor but he might have fucked his shoulder again.