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@huntedvideo sent: “Get out of my wife!”

it rolls its eyes, lips poking out in an exaggerated pout before it speaks. " -- i don't think i will. she's so comfortable. well worn, you know? i don't wanna leave. " it laughs, sinking down onto the couch. whatever the thing inside her is, it isn't her-- it's not even close. it fixes its eyes on him, cracked lips turning up into a wicked grin. blood drips down its chin, teeth bared. it's what you'd expect if you asked an animal to smile.

" -- i can't believe you'd want me to abandon her. that's what she's got you for, baby. she's so lonely, finley. it almost breaks my heart. she had to do something. " it knows what she's insecure about-- of course it's gonna use it against him. " maybe if you'd come home more often, i wouldn't have had to step in. and now i'm here. you're never getting rid of me. " it digs its nails into the skin of her arm, nails ripping up the flesh there. blood oozes from the wound and its smile grows. " besides, i'm still her. i'm just-- better. i know that's what you want, baby. you wish she was better; that she wasn't so sick. i'm happy to say your wish has been granted. why get rid of me when i'm doing you so much good? "

#huntedvideo #( answered. ) responses.#( alt. ) rest and remain here.#weheeeeee

im a litkel bit drunk tonigtj im hav it a hooooooooood time

#cara speka s #WEHEEEEEE #I JUtst sat down and the toilet aeat was down #i dont drink did u know????????????#8i had a bet hox and Three 3 miles harstardwbudst flavor #starvwberry falabor #WHEEEEE #8im yonan go back outaide and sit with ym friends

you know what? i love to have fun...so is sadie a...?

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secret morgue option

Voting ended onMar 31, 2023

#( ooc. ) this blog is sponsored by raycon.#weheeeeee

h h h h h baKA TTWEL EVE

#OOOOFF COOOUURRSSEE WE SEEE A FERRISWHEEL #WEHEEEEEE #yato talks

love stories N5 (inspired by adam hann)

“Can I help you find something?”

His voice is soft and warm like the sun. I turn around to see him standing beside me, leaning on the CDs I browsing through. He’s tall and lanky, his body almost morphing to the CDs racks. “Uh, I’m not really looking for anything imparticular,” I say.

“I’ve seen you in here before,” he says. “You like to come in and just look around.”

So he’s been watching me? It’s not like I haven’t seen him before —I have, I just tried not to look too hard in case he noticed me watching him. “Yeah,” I reply, “I like to escape sometimes in here.”

He smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. “Me too. What do you like to listen to?”

I list out my favorite bands to him, the variety of R&B, Pop, and Electronic that I listen to. He nods along as I list them out, and when I’m done, he waves me over to the register. “I’m going to make you a list and take you around.”

And he does. He makes me a list of his fifteen favorite CDs and shows each to me around the store. It takes two hours and we talk about music and what it means to us and I learn about the little things in his life that you don’t see when you watch someone from a CD rack. He tells me to come back and tell him what I think, and I do. Except I bring a stack of my favorite CDs and make him his own list and I show him around the store and I tell him about the bits and pieces of my life that are tethered to these CDs, and he listens intently, watching me as I speak.

We reach the Classical section and I explain how my mother played classical piano and my uncle played the cello, so I grew up listening to piano and cello duets. I pull out some CDs and I turn to him, handing him the Beethoven first. I look up at him and open my mouth to explain the emotion behind them, but he doesn’t let me.

Instead, he kisses me and presses me against the CD racks so they’re digging into my lower back but I don’t care because god his lips taste like heaven and his fingers are on my hips and I’m losing myself in the way he kisses me. I try to remember to breathe, but eventually I give up and stop thinking and instead let everything fall away and only focus on the way his body feels pressed into mine.

He takes me out to dinner at a small little restaurant across town and we drink red wine and he tells me about his parents and the house he grew up in and I tell him about the crazy life I grew up with and he listens with my hand in his. We walk through the streets of London under a blanket of stars with his jacket draped around my shoulders because I left mine on my couch, and I learn he plays guitar in a band with his mates from school and I ask to come and hear them play sometime and he says yes.

I learn to wake up in the mornings and press a kiss to his forehead and make him tea with two sugars and a hint of milk and he stumbles into the kitchen when the sun is up and wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my shoulders and I laugh and we drink tea on the couch. We strums his guitar and plays my favorite songs and sometimes I sing along with him but most times I let it just be him because I like to listen to the way his soft voice becomes strong when he sings. We make homemade pizza and I get flour all over his black jeans and he playfully traps my hands behind my back so I can’t make a mess and kisses my flour dusted lips and lets go of my hands so I can press them against his shoulder blades the way he loves.

We eat ice cream out of the same tub and he tolerates my addiction to dark chocolate ice cream as long as I get vanilla every once and a while, and sometimes he smokes cigarettes and when he does I steal one and he teaches me how to inhale and exhale the smoke without coughing and we kiss and it tastes like cigarette smoke.

His eyes are wet when he leaves and bright when he comes home and I don’t know what they’re like when he’s gone because he’s not here with me. I take care of our dog and I let her crawl up into bed with me because I can’t sleep alone anymore. He comes home and I kiss him like he’s the last sliver of oxygen left in the world and he picks me up and sets me on our bed and we pull each others clothes off because we have missed the way our hands feel on each other’s skin. And after I lightly trace the tattoos on his arms and he shivers and buries his head in my hair and says he hates leaving me behind.

We go to the record store and sometimes people recognize him and he doesn’t let me float off but holds me next to him while he talks to people and politely asks to be left alone because he’s with me and they leave and he kisses me against the CD racks like he did on the first time he said something to me. I fall in love with him in the summer and love him through the dark cold winter when the sun is only out for a matter of hours, but he becomes my sunshine and we lay in bed and sip tea and read books aloud to each other until our voices are hoarse, and then we just lay next to each other and I memorize the way his body feels next to mine.

And I see him on TV and I replay the program until I’ve memorized each words said and I can remember what his voice sounds like, except it’s louder on TV than it is in my ear when he tells me he loves me. I watch as he collects new clothing and he doesn’t shave for a couple days and I miss watching him shave from the closed toilet of our bathroom where I’d pass him his razor and make jokes because he hates shaving. And when he’s home he drives us around and we have red wine and hold hands on the table top and ignore the world around us because these are the moments that we wait for. The moments where he’s here and I’m here and we’re the only things that matter in the world except for maybe the music that we play on his old record player at eleven o’clock at night.

#WEHEEEEEE #my writing