roma★
hello vonnie
occasionally subtle
Cosimo Galluzzi
NASA
One Nice Bug Per Day
taylor price
Three Goblin Art
d e v o n
Game of Thrones Daily
noise dept.
★
Keni
Discoholic 🪩
PR's Tumblrdome
Show & Tell
Andulka
#extradirty
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Misplaced Lens Cap
seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Thailand
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Argentina
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Thailand
seen from Singapore
@kittenstorm
Idk if you’re active but hello, also big on the Bakers, wanted to say hi but I’m nervous af sorry lol
Wondering if you have any HCs on them? Also gotta check out your twitch soon!
Enjoy some Jack Pudding someone managed to capture
Omg - he got more ass than me thats for sure. I have TONS of headcanons as does @witch-of-the-west-country @gomakeawaffle @brimbrimbrimbrim and many others. I'd love to bring this part of the fandom back to life come join! One of us one of us
Weathered - 2017
This was a really interesting house to photograph, so much left behind and once we got upstairs there was a nice level of decay to add into the mix.
https://ift.tt/31BOqRa
I get the feeling that Jack would be the type dad who forbids a cat in the house and then days later is buddies with said cat.
Definetly lol!
Loved this ask as it's so fucking true. My Dad was the same. They act all stoic and stear well away but once the engine ... prrrr... they're like okay yeah can stay. Now it's they're favourite individual in the world.
Resident Evil 7|Jack Baker
Wow its been a while... Hello everyone 😊 how is life?
The moon was playing peekaboo behind the fast drifting clouds, and whilst it was hidden the sea looked like ink. So much so that when she put her hand into the chilly water, she was surprised her skin didn't come out stained.
The decision she'd made wasn't impulsive: She'd been considering it for years. It felt like the right thing to do, like a foregone conclusion that one one day she would be welcomed back where she belonged. It was a very comforting notion.
Her feet scuffed in the dark sand, making random sigils. She was putting off the moment, but not from any kind of doubt. Rather, she wanted to build up a momentum, make the actual moment more meaningful by delaying it.
Salt water lapped at the soles of her boots, and she let it tease. It gave her gentle kisses, letting her know it was waiting.
She had thought about taking off her clothes, but had discarded the idea early on. Her heavy coat and sturdy boots would absorb the water quickly, she reasoned, and hasten her demise. Besides, she wanted some kind of dignity to her end.
Distant lights flickered behind her, calling a wordless plea, but she stepped off the shore and into the water. It was cold, seeping between the stitches of her boots. It wasn't unpleasant.
She took a few more paces. The water reached her calves, circling them and drawing her deeper.
The ocean wanted her and rejected her in equal measure. As much as the waves urged her back, the tide pulled her in. She was being given a chance to change her mind, but her mind was set.
She wondered how long her physical instincts would struggle. How many opportunities she would be given to back out. She knew her survival instincts would kick in at some point, despite her wishes, and she would fight, but she would suppress those as much as she could.
The water reached her thighs, the icy embrace numbing her submerged limbs. So far, so good. She felt no more panic than if she was sinking into a warm bath.
Somewhere, far behind her, she could hear life continuing - cars and voices, the hum of existence - but it meant nothing. It was background audio, a radio playing in an empty room. The only reality was the ocean, and her imminent death.
The water was up to her chin, and a sudden surge sent a wave over her face. She wanted to welcome it but her irritating survival instincts kicked in, and she choked, kicking her feet, tilting her head back to gasp in the chilly air. No matter how much she tried to still her traitor body, to relax and let the sea take her, her limbs flailed, trying to carry her back to the surface. She fought against the water and she fought against herself.
Another wave smothered her, and she panicked, her throat closing up, her hands lashing out. It hurt to be so close to death, she realised.
She began to struggle in earnest, kicking and kicking and kicking. Her coat was a sodden weight enveloping her, her boots like concrete. Something nudged her leg and she tried to scream but the pitiless salt water filled the gap in her mouth. She was spun around, helpless, directionless, not knowing which way she should go, and in the tumult there was a noise she had never heard before, a squealing whine that pierced every sense she had.
Somehow, she was alive. She didn't know how. Maybe she had stopped fighting and the tide and carried her back to shore. She was pretty sure she wasn't in heaven. It was far too cold and dark, and everything hurt.
As her mind cleared and she returned to consciousness, the noise she had heard before grew louder and more insistent. It burrowed into her, starting at the ears and continuing into her skull to pierce some primitive part of her that made sure she couldn't ignore it.
!!!
She was in too much pain, her mind too traumatised, to be able to think in words, but the imperative to find the noise spurred her into some kind of action. She managed to get her numb arms beneath her and push herself upright into a clumsy crouch.
The high pitched squeals weren't heard by her ears, but by something deep inside her head, and it itched.
She tried to speak, but instead noisily vomited a thin gruel of salt water and bile. The sound she made herself seemed to energise the crying she heard, and it continued with renewed vigour, reaching a pitch that might split her sore head.
She retched and puked until her arms shook beneath her, then started to crawl towards the source of the sound.
It wasn't human. Even in the faltering light of the moon and distant traffic, she could tell that. But it was a baby, whatever it was.
She cradled it in her arms, forcing the stupid limbs to obey her instructions, and tried to see what she held.
It's skin was dark, with a subtle shimmer that seemed to reflect what meagre light it processed. It was clammy to the touch, with an oddly silky roughness that defied logic but made sense the more she held it. The mouth that emitted the unnatural sounds she'd heard was wide open, exposing a cavernous throat and a gaping jaw lined with a multitude of tiny, sharp teeth, but the sight of those teeth and the veined opening beyond didn't scare her. Mostly because of the eyes.
They were far too large for the head: Black and round and wet, with a thin film that seemed to flicker over them periodically, but they were the eyes of a baby. A pug's eyes were just as freakish, yet just as appealing.
She pulled the squalling form against her. It wriggled, and something thin yet strong hit her arm.
Mild curiosity made her look at what had struck her, and she was unsurprised to see that it was a tail.
"Hush, baby," she said, and though her voice was hoarse and thick with salt, her words seemed to calm the little creature.
It mewled, turned its head. There were narrow slits on its neck that flared and fluttered before closing again.
She sat up properly, hugging it close. She was freezing and miserable but the baby was worse off. She hunched herself over it, wet and straggled tendrils of her hair falling into its strange little face, and it gurgled a little, it's sobs hitching in its plump little chest.
"Hush, baby," she said again, and it cooed this time.
A tiny hand reached up and grabbed the wet snakes of her hair. The fingers on the hand had a thin veil of webbing between them. She smiled. The baby's black eyes widened, along with the jagged mouth, and it looked like it could be smiling too.
"It's OK," she said. "It's all OK. You're safe."
She bent down and placed a kiss on the chilly little cheek. It's skin sucked all the warmth from her lips, but the baby chuckled.
"Everything is fine," she said, and to her surprise, she was telling the truth.
She wasn't sure what to do, but at this moment it didn't matter. She sang to the baby instead, her voice cracked and splintered and far too high, but it seemed like the right thing to do. She sang nonsense syllables, as the words to the songs she'd always known had suddenly escaped her, but the baby didn't mind: Its eyes began to close, the little muscles in its body to relax, and she sang and sang until nothing mattered any more.
Hauntingly beautiful - I genuinely choked up when I was reading this morning. Give a follow guys @witch-of-the-west-country also does much horror fanfiction as well as stand alone beauties such as this ☄🌌🧜♀️☄
Toshirō Mifune in Snow Trail (1947) dir. by Senkichi Taniguchi
Twitch is the world's leading video platform and community for gamers.
Replaying limbo after many years
MORTAL KOMBAT (2021) dir. Simon McQuoid ››› Hiroyuki Sanada as Hanzo Hasashi / Scorpion ››› Joe Taslim as Bi-Han / Sub-Zero
"Strong Storms"
I’ve never had a proper look at this picture so I didn’t realise that it’s actually Andre sat in the chair on the far right - not Ethan. Behind him stands Eveline too.
Andre never did make it to supper :(
Go tell Aunt Rhody, Go tell Aunt Rhody, Go tell Aunt Rhody that, Everybody’s dead.
