NAMING WANK STORMS LIKE HURRICANES THISBIS THE BEST THINGN IVE WVER HEARD FIGFDJVJDNCNSJNC “wank storm martha moving in from the northeast”
“Wankstorm Wanda was downgraded to a ‘polite discussion’ this afternoon when everyone kept their heads and no one was disgusting trash” JUST KIDDING WHEN HAS THAT EVER HAPPENED
soulmate au where instead of your soulmates first words to you written on your skin it’s their last words you ever hear them say so you don’t know who your soulmate is until you lose them
i have been called satan so many times because of this post
Imagine being in a dangerous setting alongside your soulmate and hearing the last words and realising they’re the last words and calling out to try and warn them – and this warning being the thing that distracts them for just long enough for them to be killed.
You live alone. Your desk drawer contains two items: an apple and a gun. You can’t decide which one to eat.
He is whipping a corpse. A woman offers him coffee. He looks up, surprised, because he didn’t know she was there. All he can think about is how thin her lips are. He returns to whipping the corpse.
Two men eat dinner by candlelight. London passes by the windows. A cab stops across the street and waits. It waits, and they wait. When it leaves they chase it. They run like wind, air stinging their lungs. Later they go home together and laugh side by side, but someone is waiting upstairs.
He sits inside an empty school room late at night. A man is waiting for him to kill himself when you pull the trigger. There is blood and the killer screams a name that is never said aloud. You pretend you didn’t save the other’s life.
The swimming pool is dim. You are wearing a bomb and threatening him, but they are not your words. You are just as trapped as he is. He tears your clothes off, and you collapse. The bomber enters. With a silent nod you agree to die with him.
You are taken in a strange car to an abandoned warehouse. A woman in black tells you things you don’t want to hear. Someone is watching you. Someone is listening.
He takes you hostage but it is a ruse. You run through London clasping hands until a double-decker bus barrels toward you. A stranger saves your lives, but when they shake your hand a bullet lodges in their brain. The stranger is dead, and you have no where to go.
Your phone rings. It is him and you answer and he tells you to look up. You look up. And then your eyes travel the height of the building and you run to the pavement where he lies in blood. You cannot feel a pulse. You cannot breathe.
You stand beside a black gravestone. You say things you could never say before. A dead man is watching from behind the tree.
You tell yourself you are in love. You bring the ring to dinner. You stumble over words. His ghost appears. He is corporeal and you fight him. You hate him. His nose is bleeding and you are angry. Your fiancee says she likes him.
You write a waltz and practice dancing to it. You always dance alone. It is not until the morning of his wedding that you realize you are a ghost. He can never love you.
A bullet is in your chest. You feel blood and cold. You are falling over and your mind is running through corridors looking for a memory of the man you love. You cannot find him. Instead you are locked in a room with a madman. He mocks you. He sings you a lullaby. This is when you realize you are dead.
It is Christmas and everyone is sleeping and he whisks you away in a helicopter. He has made a deal with the devil. He asks if you have your gun. Later he steals it and fires. The sun is setting and you are stood in the wind with the man you love and a corpse.
It is a blustery day on the tarmac. A dead man is trying to tell you his secrets, but instead he shakes your hand and leaves. You think of your old desk with the apple and the gun. You do not think about eating the apple. Relief washes over you, until you remember that your wife is pregnant.
