#storms are so sexy

[1introvertedsage]

…and as the storm rolls in - the cleansing process begins.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

VINCENT PRICE - THE BARON OF ARIZONA (1950)

[searockmilk]

Just found out that these two are a canon couple. I’m obsessed to say the least… that’s her goofy ass white boy

[jimmyspades]

[littlestardescendants]

Just give me one good hit I'll knock the fucking beauty off his smug ass face! >:(

( WHB MC is the "Eren" of this game getting kidnapped 24/7 smh- )

[ Ch. 4 Spoilers ]

Bitch do it and I'll fucking peg you while your subjects watch!! >:0

[no1every1]

[marisa3636]

Always available for meetups, naughty chat and naughty content that will turn you ON and definitely will make you CUM while you see me jerking off without my panties on💦💦👅

Join My Snapchat ID ......

[yashley]

dorian silently ensuring that whatever the raven queen will use to humble him to the presence of a god won't affect him. he will not drown himself for a god.

[fearcanbeagift]

i still can’t believe they deleted this scene.

[stumpgirl]

I'm so weak for this man 🥺

[thelesbianthespianposts]

I just started watching season 5 so here’s a little sketch of eleven and amy

[bookaddictedrose]

I JUST SAW THIS ON PINTEREST

OH MY FUCKING GOD

IS IT REAL IS IT REAL IS IT REAL

WHAATTTTT ITS NOT REAL 😭😭

[shejustcalledmeafish]

give ur guy a little fear gas in the mail. for experimental purposes obviously

It wasn’t his package, sure. No one ever sent him any packages. But it had ended up at the door of his motel room, and fuck it. John was so bored, and he loved crime. He wasn’t above opening a stranger’s mail, especially when it had been given to him so temptingly.

It would be a mistake, of course, like every choice John ever seemed to make.

The package contained nothing but dust as far as John could tell. He was immediately wary, he knew about what could lurk in innocent enough particles. But at first, nothing seemed to happen, and he huffed and threw the package in the bin.

John was asleep in bed when the canister slammed in through the window and immediately began to spit gas. He shot upright quickly enough to clock what was happening, but not to stop from breathing in the tainted air.

He ran out of the room, and took in a deep breath of night air. Then he heard the click of a safety, and turned to see a gun inches from his head.

With no hesitation, John grabbed the gun with one hand, twisted the arm holding it hard with the other, then flipped his would-be assailant over the railing. There was a short scream and a shorter thud. John sighed. He couldn’t even have a decent night’s rest.

There was nothing he couldn’t replace in the room, so he made his way to the stairs with nothing but his newly acquired gun and exactly as much clothing as the readers decided to give him. He had to get out of here before someone else tried to kill him.

It was a rational thought, especially for John. But as he made his way down the crumbling stone steps, he felt his heart beginning to race just at the thought. He saw something glint in the distance and immediately ducked, fearing a sniper.

He was crouched on the stairs for almost a full minute before he decided they weren’t going to take a shot. His heart didn’t slow. But he did start to move again, taking each step with the utmost precision.

John didn’t know where he was going. He had no car or ship, but if people kept trying to kill him, he wouldn’t have time to program a jump. He crossed by the pool, quick and light, when he saw a shadow of a person drawing closer up ahead.

So he pivoted, going through the ajar gate and into the pool area. It was empty for the off season, covered by a poorly aligned tarp. It was easy for John to push the tarp aside, wincing at the crinkle of the plastic, and quickly slide into the four foot concrete pit. He would have to take his chances here, it was that or jump the fence and run.

His head was beginning to ache, from the gas or the stress or the lack of sleep, he couldn't be certain. He sat down, back resting against the pool wall. It stank of must and rot. He wasn’t the only animal that had attempted to seek refuge here.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, John decided it might be worth making a move. But as he tried to move, he realized he couldn’t. His muscles were clenched in fear, trembling, sweat pouring from his clammy skin. The gun he held so tightly his knuckles had gone white. There was no reason for him to be so scared, he knew logically. But if he moved an inch, he would be dead, so better not to move at all.

So he didn’t. He sat perfectly still until exhaustion overcame him and he slumped in sleep, gun clattering out of his grip.

John jolted awake to the sound of a piercing scream, only to find a bottle of window cleaner lying by his feet. He stared at it for a moment, confused, then scrambled to his feet, popping his head out above the tarp.

The man who screamed seemed harmless. The crumpled body at his feet in a cleaner’s uniform made John’s blood feel sluggish and thick inside him. Glancing upward, he saw his room. Window perfectly intact.

John sank back down before he could be spotted. No gas canister. No assassin. Nothing but an empty box. It wasn’t that empty after all, and neither was John’s threat to whoever had sent it. He didn’t know what exactly had been done to him, only that something had been. He was going to get answers. As soon as he snuck out of this pool and rooted around in his bin for a return address.

[imagine-mokey]

Ringo. Starr, with Rory Storm and the Hurricanes!

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price - Dragonwyck (1946)