Bo Reads

Thomas is energetic, spontaneous, up for anything, which brings some balance to Penny's kind of paint-by-numbers, order off the menu life. He's not as cruel or as much of an asshole as he pretends to be, and while he's sparing in his loyalty, once its given his devotion runs deep.

1/2

#Smutcember

I think Jax has"people waiting for him outside" in that he is in a lot of trouble if they get out. He has to know something really deep down flashbacks considered. Or they're all in trouble, or something so bad is outside that it's preferable to stay. That whole episode gave me the creeps. #tadc

#tadc I want to watch the Gaither's Pond reference again

You can’t just prepare yourself for doom.

You have to plan for it to work out

You have to have the audacity to look at the future and ask “what if it’s all right? What if we make it work?”

“What then?”

Thank you.

One of the worst things about insomnia is the boredom. Not awake enough to focus on anything, not tired enough to drift away. Just...existing and doing the mental equivalent of trying to pick up grains of rice with toothpicks.

Does it count as Whamageddon if you haven't actually heard the song yet this year but it's stuck in your head anyway?

Hi it's me coming here at the end. So, a little addendum. This isn't really a journal. It's actually a long text message sent to my other main character. But yeah what are we thinking chat?

If you get this message after I send it, which knowing the workaholic you are, you never get off of your phone, I just want to say that I am so excited to meet you, I could jump past your fence and run to your window, but not yet.

I can see you now.

Closer still I got and knew that you had to be mine. How I long to close the distance and speak to you, through endless pangs of yearning and sorrow. Not yet, but soon, my darling. We will be together, finally.

In the shower, when through the lens gradually, tragically obfuscated by steam, you wash your perfect body of the filth of this world. Each recorded frame I've collected instills in me pleasure, though also immense pain, as my fingers graze the cold screen through my imagination of your soft warmth.

My heart squeezed at the thought that it would be yours even after it stopped, from inside the cage of my chest. Then again as my wheels turned from the lot. Not yet.

I would die to have your hands inside of me, though I could never witness your ethereal shining gloves, as you pull from me red-handed the raw evidence of my passion.

I only got a glimpse of it once, but the sight caused a fire to course unforgettably through my blood, an angel haloed by sterile light. All at once I envied those who have crossed your table.

At your job, where they wheel in the inanimate remnants of those very fortunate souls who have wound up under your care after they met their end, for you to pick them apart and parse out how and why.

You were asking a monumental amount from me then, to unlatch my fingers from the raglan edge of your pit, to bolt in a fury as headlights cut through the slits in the blinds of your darkened room.

Which takes mountainous self control, a sense I have developed and honed to a sharp edge of deprivation, but enough about myself. Your scent filled my nose and flooded my brain like downing Everclear. Pure and absolute, almost, a distillation of your skin.

I thought about stealing it for my collection, but regrettably, I felt at that point in our relationship it would risk getting too close. We will be close, more than you could hope for, my love. More than you realize we have already been, but not yet.

I brought it to my nose, on another visit to your room while you were away, before you took it and you tragically washed your scent away from the bedraggled fabric.

Only this time it's a candid shot. I'll treasure it as I do with all of the others I have of you, my love, as I inched closer into your periphery. In the Laundromat, you really ought to throw out that green shirt with pinholes.

Just enough to be graced with a peek inside of your world. It's funny how our relationship started out as your photograph on your profile, and now when you jolt with the flash that flits through your blinds like lighting, it ends with another picture of you.

You know me, but you don't know how closely I have gotten to see both. At first, it was only with the hope that I could get a glimpse of you in your bed, through the blinds that I've maneuvered just a tiny bit while you were away.

Your smile is pretty, a bleached mouth impossibly bright, but anyone with eyes can see the unnatural gleam doesn't reflect your eyes. You aren't even there, as much of a stand in for reality in the flesh as you are in a photograph.

FEEDBACK WANTED: CHARACTER JOURNAL

The following is an excerpt from my Mavis, the deuteragonist of my crime thriller. She is stalking the other main.

The want for you is absolute torment. I have not planned out what I am going to do to make you mine, but doesn't God laugh at plans?

[ID: Photograph of a large piece of machinery, zoomed in on a warning label that reads: "It is possible / to survive this / but not unaltered." /end ID]

My MCs vs the plot

If you like:

-Dark horror-adjacent fantasy
-Deals with demons
-Morally grey characters
-Disaster bi protagonists
-Shadow Daddies 😈🌶️

You should preorder HELLBOUND!

Cool

Strange Appetites by Bo Smith (Ebook) - Read free for 30 days This anthology contains five comedy horror short stories. General existential angst blended with some weirdness, you know, for the laughs. One is straight up about the time I fell in love with kitchen...

www.everand.com/book/9594384...
Check it out I wrote an anthology! Please reskeet. God I can't believe that's the word we went with. Okay. 😭 #writers #authors

Shit I forgot this place existed. I thought to myself, twitter is deader than a doornail where the hell do I promote my book without getting yelled at? 😭

Hey y'all! 👋