#my type of snacks

[palmtreesx3]

*chefs kiss*

poonehghana

[starbluethunder]

sometimes its very important to imagine her wearing the kind of slop that i wear irl. its her pjs

[tea-cat-arts]

We can all just pretend finished this in May

[dvchvnde]

excerpt; hitchhiker au | Simon Riley x Reader gore. graphic descriptions of decomposition. implied noncon.

“You’re not real,” she whimpers, words a rough scrape out of her raw, torn throat. “You can't be real.”

He doesn't answer tonight. Silent in his appraisal, his hatred; the bloodlust rolls off of him in waves, a suffocating deluge that tangles in her chest. Heart pulsing at the base of her throat, clogging her airways. She can't breathe. Can't move. Can only watch as the man cocks his head slowly to the side in a mutated parody of consideration. Confusion. Taking her in as he stands in her doorway, massive body filling the frame in an outline of black, making him more shadow than man. An apparition that haunts her at devil's hour. Always.

The moon's glow casts a line through the open window. A pale meridian between them. 

Childishly, she thinks of hiding under her blanket. Bad things can't touch you under the covers. Curling into a ball with her eyes squeezed shut, fingers plugging her ears. Wishing for her mother. Howling for her dad. Waiting until morning when the thing haunting her finally leaves.

But he doesn't. Not tonight. 

And she knows if she tries to hide, he'll just crawl into the bed next to her—

“Fix your bumper yet?” He asks, measured in his mockery. The weight of his words makes her stomach churn. Nausea a cold, familiar comfort that tethers itself to her ribcage. “Better get that fixed before someone comes askin’ questions, pet. Clean the blood off it, too. Caused quite the nasty spill.”

His directive makes her want to curl into a ball. “I–I didn't mean to, I didn't—”

“What'd you tell everyone? Hit a deer? Left ‘im in the bushes to die? And now he's got maggots crawlin’ all around ‘is ‘ead. Eatin’ his brains clean outta ‘is skull—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up—you’re not real! You're not real—”

The man—Simon Riley, her mind supplies bitterly, brokenly; tinged full of regret and sorrow and hatred—lashes out in an instant, moves like water, like shadows on the wall, the too bright flicker of a moving car, until he's in her face, looming over her. A massive, unclimbable wall. And she hates it. Hates when he's this close to her. Close enough to smell the stench of rotten blood that dries on his chest, the side of his head. A brown stain that sinks into the too-large frame of his chest. 

He smells of death. Sickening. Tainted with a noisome sweetness that glues in her nostrils, leaks down her throat. She can taste him there, right on her tongue. Him. Simon Riley. 

Missing, the newspapers say. But only she knows the truth. Stowed away in a facsimile of a grave by the swamps, left to rot. Here, in her bedroom. Waiting for her whenever she tries for a modicum of sleep. A veteran. A drifter. Homeless, they write, and he barked out an ugly laugh as he read over your shoulder, but said nothing else as you scrolled. Tense. Shivering in your seat, waiting for the day the police show up and arrest you. You did a terrible thing. A horrible thing. Pay for what you've done—

His hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around the delicate arch of her throat. The width spans the entirety of it until the bone china, the vulnerable slope, is clenched tight in his slick, slippery palm. Moss, she knows; it grows over his hands and feet now. The earth reclaiming the body she threw into the swamp—

“Not real?” He mocks, wrenching her closer by her throat. Pulse thudding like the wings of a hummingbird against his thumb. “Oh, pet. M’very real—”

He leans in, too, until his horrid face is lit by the sliver of pale blue moonlight. Scraps of tissue slough off of his head, skin purpling beneath the balaclava that peels off in patches. Animals, he'd told her idly, like talking about his body being eaten away by creatures was piecemeal. The jaundiced bone of his cheek pokes out from raspberry skin. It shifts when he speaks, and draws her eye to the devastation of his mouth. Jawbone visible; muscle blackened, clinging by a strip of thin tissue to his lower mandible. His teeth gleam in the light. Yellow and crooked. The rest of his face is covered under the blood soaked fabric of his mask. A small mercy, she thinks.

But the worst is his eyes. 

Once black, midnight grey, is now filmed over. Milky. And the other—

Something moves in the cherryred chasm. A long, thin black line slinks out of the gaping hole. Another. Another. From the rotten socket, a large spider emerges, crawling over the craggy pieces of his broken nose, making his decomposing body her home. 

She whimpers as the bile surges up, swallowing it down when the blue skin of his mouth peel back in a horrifying grin—

Something white falls from the corner of his eye, rolling down the slick, damp skin of his oily face in a mockery of a teardrop, the image glueing to the bone deep remorse that coils like a noose around her neck. Tighter, tighter. 

His tongue lulls out. Cold, slimy, when it flickers over the trembling ridge of her jaw. Fingers digging into her skin, stealing the warmth from her flesh. The air from her lungs. 

He'll have her like this, she knows. Always does when he gets in these moods—the kind that makes him touch her more, sink boney fingers beneath the hem of her pants, and cooing in her ear about how much he wants to eat her alive. Buzzing with some strange, electric energy. She can't run. Can't scream. 

Going to the police isn't an option when she buried a body under loose rocks and sticks. Hit and run. Vehicular manslaughter. Life over in a blink—

No. No—

She just has to wait, she thinks, her eyes slipping shut as his rancid breath curdled over the tears on her cheeks. Wait until his body rots all the way. 

Until he's nothing but bones—

Only then will this ghost finally leave her alone. 

[snail-day]

Snail’s crash out: my phone deleted my 6.2k yan!sukuna x reader fic 💀 I genuinely feel like throwing up. Been dealing with screen issues for a while now (I have the Galaxy Flip6), and apparently all the screens are backordered for a month where I live?? 😭 I love the phone, but ngl I’m seriously debating going back to iPhone… at least then I can use my watch again. Just… big, slimy, sad snail energy.

BUT

On a brighter, sparkly note!! 🩷 I applied to a new job!! So fingers crossed something good comes soon!!

[hyohaehyuk]

Sam talks about Jacob being 'an exceptional person' and answers what would have happened if Dale interviewed Lestat and whether or not Dale and Louis would be "friends" in The Emsolation Podcast Extras!

Note: Unf this is not the complete video where he answears that question(s). I had to edit it with a few excerpts i found so it might not make much sense. if someone put the whole segment of this question(s) i will edit this with that video

Source: The Emsolation Podcast - Sam Reid talks the FINAL season of The Newsreader, urvampiregirls, loustatsoup, comeappraiseme and pixielayer

------

Him saying that he can't imagine Louis giving two f*cks about Dale 😞 Well the fanfics says otherwise 🙃 i am really surprised they didn't told im about the Louis x Dale fanfics on AO3 🤣

i cant find the tweet now but i swear that i saw someone one twitter saying that Michael Lucas and the lady in the video talked about it a few weeks ago in one of The Emsolation podcast eps.

Anyway, it's funny that Lestat possessed him both times: one (where Sam clearly was able to control him) where he was totally down to the idea of f*cking Dale and in the other where he cant stand the idea of Louis f*cking Dale (Lestat you fake poly. A cheater is what you are) I didn't believed 100% in the Lestat possession allegations until i watch this 🤯

[daemon-in-my-head]

Actually let me make this it's own post. Hi here's a description of the man™️ after I stared at his face for lord knows how long and tried to gather all his unique lil details:

- his jawline is the widest part of his face

- regarding the above; or it might just be deliberate, if you look closely his hair looks like he's using the middle part to frame his face beneath all the loose strands

- his nose isn't not straight but he has a kinda defined indent on the right side of his nose bridge making it look crooked without really having a crook?

- one of his 'wrinkles' next to his right eye actually looks like a faded scar or smth. The skin returned to its normal colour but it is as deep as a wrinkles without fitting into the symmetry of them and actively crossing another

- his weird makeup choice and his hollowed face kinda emphasise his wrinkles like fuck cuz his eyes r rly, rly sunken in and his emo makeup just deepends the shadows

- he's kinda giving 'not aged like fine wine' babyface except those pinchable cheeks surrendered to a very gaunt look aka very high cheekbones but now they're rly just bone casting rly weird shadows

- incredibly hooded eyes and the skin on his browbone is very exposed and has a slight curve, thx evil arched brows

- actually re the above they also kinda resemble deepset eyes. The parts of the eyelids that you can see are highlighted by the fact that his eyes r so sunken in

- after carefully starring at a bunch of characters for far too long; he probably has some of the fullest lips in all of Faerûn, but also slightly down turned - thinning them out when he smiles, or attempts it ig

- The scar on his chin is pretty darn deep, it's not that much discoloured it's just in constant shadow

- cupid's bow? He's never heard of that

-his smile lines are about as defined as Gale's but on his face there's more shadows that deepen them

-bald spots in his stubble

- very visible pores

Overall on very close inspection he's giving hair gel imperium that runs on 1h of sleep in the last 72h and if you cut him he probably bleeds espresso. Like that man looks kinda starved and very much unhealthy. His face is basically just highlights or shadows. No in-between.

He has a very attractive, very sharp face but it's very much hidden beneath all the unhealthy habits that you can see on it. Clean him up, feed him, teach him how to use a razor, replace the make up with something more subtle and he'd rise to fame thx to being a thirst trap in seconds. And if you just look at his side profile you kinda get a preview of that already. He does look young. Very much so (return of the babyface).

And he does look like a fuckboy.

[ask-everything]

What are the objects favorite foods or snacks?

[ The responses you get sound.. rather delicious, truly. Besides one or two. ]

[cervideity]

jackpot

The Enemy was published 15 years ago today! Wow! You should go and read it! Check out this scene for yourself! Nothing goes wrong!

[vellichorsdesire]

day 48367 of blue hydrangeas domestic life au being my most favorite au everrr… we’re going shopping!!! ^_^

==

taglist: (interact with this post/let me know wherever if you’d like to be added or removed!! first time doing this thank you guys eeee 💗💗💗)

@hauntedhallwayzzz @artistlara @melomacaron @milkmallow28 @champmorado @heartofbalemoon @astral-express-family @sunflawyer

[pcktknife]

ok tell me some basic gen 5 facts

victini was designed with the intention of appealing to female players

[akkivee]

cute bad ass

[arionaleilani]

hello ur local lesbian diabetic (dykeabetic, if you will) just had her endo appointment and almost cried happy tears (which is RARE) because i managed to go from a 9.1 a1c in february to a 6.6 a1c today so like. holy fucking shit.

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

Oh no I'm sleepy

[meowdei]

The difference between what I read vs what I write is comical to me

[screambirdscreaming]

I'm a strong believer in public spaces (and functionally-public spaces) as realms where you have to accept things happening and other people doing what they do as neutral and largely immutable forces, because to do otherwise leads to functional if not literal policing of public behavior in ways that are antithetical to the function of public space as somewhere that anyone can exist

However. Sometimes I am trying to get groceries while also having a headache. And i find myself thinking wretched nimby thoughts like "dogs should be banned" and "loud music in grocery stores should be banned also."