🔥 | Latest

News, Tumblr, and Waffle House: ST 15 15 starafterdeath: schi-walker-locked: a-small-bowl-of-noodles: kakaphoe: of-another-broken-heart: kakaphoe: asymbina: iamsapphirecrimsonclaw: bluesey-182: captaindeadpoet: hiringdreamers: ezurad: commandtower-solring-go: kayas-wife: chandra-nalaar: viralthings: The more you look at this picture, the more anxious it becomes. this is just a normal waffle house there is a bloody handprint on the door There is somethung under the counter with the cups Blind man reading news paperSkull in the coffee Milk is $15 Lady’s hand is a tentacle the bleeding pie, the eyeball and fingers on the blind man’s plate… I was trying to find something nobody else had seen yet, when I realized… Look right above the tentacle arm. The second man at the buffet, what the hell is he doing? He’s either throwing up or eating an octopus. I think his face is just tentacles. The blind man has gills. Scariest detail: this image was ripped from the creator’s site and vandalized (edited to remove the watermark), then reuploaded for viral fame without so much as a mention of the artist’s name. SOURCE: http://jeffleejohnson.deviantart.com/art/Blue-Plate-Special-661961724 That said, the earlier observation about milk being $15 is off - artist confirms this is based on a 1920’s diner, so the price would be in cents. (http://comments.deviantart.com/1/661961724/4375070065)The table under the journal is lacquered with ants. The person holding the skull-creamed coffee paints the underside of their nails. Either that or their natural nails grow red.The journal’s writing, intentionally made hard to read and partially obscured, is somewhat of a cheat to all the things amiss in the scene. (http://comments.deviantart.com/1/661961724/4372574544) I can make out: “… and eyeball … have to think he is less strange than the horrifying creature that seems to have inhabited the cabinet behind him … all tentacles and teeth … (obscured by cup) … Where in the world can be found such nightmares?!” Reblogging for the correct source (I didn’t even notice the OP wasn’t the artist oops). There’s a second one, and there’s even more in this AAAHH, cool, but AAAAAHHHH Just a regular morning in Innsmouth.
News, Tumblr, and Waffle House: ST
 15
 15
starafterdeath:

schi-walker-locked:

a-small-bowl-of-noodles:

kakaphoe:

of-another-broken-heart:

kakaphoe:

asymbina:

iamsapphirecrimsonclaw:

bluesey-182:

captaindeadpoet:

hiringdreamers:


ezurad:


commandtower-solring-go:


kayas-wife:


chandra-nalaar:

viralthings:
The more you look at this picture, the more anxious it becomes.
this is just a normal waffle house

there is a bloody handprint on the door


There is somethung under the counter with the cups


Blind man reading news paperSkull in the coffee


Milk is $15


Lady’s hand is a tentacle


the bleeding pie, the eyeball and fingers on the blind man’s plate…

I was trying to find something nobody else had seen yet, when I realized…
Look right above the tentacle arm. The second man at the buffet, what the hell is he doing? He’s either throwing up or eating an octopus.

I think his face is just tentacles.

The blind man has gills.

Scariest detail: this image was ripped from the creator’s site and vandalized (edited to remove the watermark), then reuploaded for viral fame without so much as a mention of the artist’s name. SOURCE: http://jeffleejohnson.deviantart.com/art/Blue-Plate-Special-661961724 That said, the earlier observation about milk being $15 is off - artist confirms this is based on a 1920’s diner, so the price would be in cents. (http://comments.deviantart.com/1/661961724/4375070065)The table under the journal is lacquered with ants. The person holding the skull-creamed coffee paints the underside of their nails. Either that or their natural nails grow red.The journal’s writing, intentionally made hard to read and partially obscured, is somewhat of a cheat to all the things amiss in the scene. (http://comments.deviantart.com/1/661961724/4372574544) I can make out: “… and eyeball … have to think he is less strange than the horrifying creature that seems to have inhabited the cabinet behind him … all tentacles and teeth … (obscured by cup) … Where in the world can be found such nightmares?!”

Reblogging for the correct source (I didn’t even notice the OP wasn’t the artist oops).


There’s a second one, and there’s even more in this 


AAAHH, cool, but AAAAAHHHH



Just a regular morning in Innsmouth.

starafterdeath: schi-walker-locked: a-small-bowl-of-noodles: kakaphoe: of-another-broken-heart: kakaphoe: asymbina: iamsapphirecrimso...

Alive, America, and Another One: bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 11, 2018 bucky meeting peter parker, a skinny kid from new york who thinks it's his job to save the whole world: fuck. another one. t561 1.8K 4 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 11, 2018 steve in tfa: i apologise for going against orders sir, won't happen again steve in infinity war: im going to do whatever the hell i want and if general ross has a problem, he can go right ahead and suck my serum-enhanced ding dong t 465 1.5K 6 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 11, 2018 steve: im gonna go after bucky sam: that's a terrible idea. he tried to kill us all steve: you don't have to come sam: we leave at 2 1 114 1 653 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 11, 2018 my favourite movie is steve:bucky bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 10, 2018 captain america: the winter soldier is basically a movie called steve rogers: bucky barnes 1 t 67 430 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 12, 2018 the death triplets: steve: you get hurt? hurt them back. you get killed? walk it off. thor: "it'll kill you" "only if i die" bucky: "they're not planning on taking you alive" "that's smart. good strategy" ti 370 1.2K bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 13, 2018 steve: well, you know what they say. what doesn't kill you- bucky: should've tried harder steve: bucky no bucky: and should fear for its life because i know you will avenge me steve: sam: well hes not wrong t 261 1.1K 1 > bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 13, 2018 bucky, skateboarding into his therapists office with sunglasses on and a juice box in his hand: theresa, you would not fucking believe what suppressed memory resurfaced last night t805 2.6K
Alive, America, and Another One: bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 11, 2018
 bucky meeting peter parker, a skinny kid from new york who thinks it's his job
 to save the whole world: fuck. another one.
 t561
 1.8K
 4

 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 11, 2018
 steve in tfa: i apologise for going against orders sir, won't happen again
 steve in infinity war: im going to do whatever the hell i want and if general
 ross has a problem, he can go right ahead and suck my serum-enhanced ding
 dong
 t 465
 1.5K
 6
 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 11, 2018
 steve: im gonna go after bucky
 sam: that's a terrible idea. he tried to kill us all
 steve: you don't have to come
 sam: we leave at 2
 1 114
 1
 653
 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 11, 2018
 my favourite movie is steve:bucky
 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 10, 2018
 captain america: the winter soldier is basically a movie called steve rogers:
 bucky barnes
 1
 t 67
 430

 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 12, 2018
 the death triplets:
 steve: you get hurt? hurt them back. you get killed? walk it off.
 thor: "it'll kill you" "only if i die"
 bucky: "they're not planning on taking you alive" "that's smart. good strategy"
 ti 370
 1.2K

 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 13, 2018
 steve: well, you know what they say. what doesn't kill you-
 bucky: should've tried harder
 steve: bucky no
 bucky: and should fear for its life because i know you will avenge me
 steve:
 sam: well hes not wrong
 t 261
 1.1K
 1
 >

 bicky @incorrectbucko Sep 13, 2018
 bucky, skateboarding into his therapists office with sunglasses on and a juice
 box in his hand: theresa, you would not fucking believe what suppressed
 memory resurfaced last night
 t805
 2.6K
Apparently, Crime, and Dating: writing-prompt-s A dating service where matching is based on people's search history exists. You're a serial killer. You go on a date with a writer. endreams-s Serial Killer: metaphorically, if you were to kill someone, how would you do it? Writer: Air shot between the toes, it'll look like a heart attack Serial Killer who is obviously in love already: "sucks in a breath ok fangoddess817 Writer: how long would it take to die if you were to potentially stab someone in the guts Serial killer: anywhere from 2 to 30 minutes Writer, already bringing a ring out: "shaking thanks infinityonthot A++ addition tetsuskitten Writer: "shows the serial killer the murder scene they're writing actually work? babe, i'm not sure if this would Serial killer: "kisses writer on the forehead and leaves, comes back later, a suspicious scent of blood coming off them* it works baby, you're doing great tigerliliesandcherryblossoms ILOVE THIS vmohlere Oh no, murder comedy is my jam laziestofthedreamers Ilove this, I love all of this, but quick question, does the author know? Like are they aware that their significant other is a serial killer or do they just think that they have a morbid sense of humor? It'd be even funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like how Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly gulible, and on top of it they're a horror or crime novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop or something so it's completely normal for them to come home smelling like blood, no murders going on here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home from a long day at work. Now fast forward a bit and the author has managed to get their first book published, with loving support from the serial killer who helped them fine tune all the murder scenes, and it's a big hit. Enough so that a detective with the local police department has noticed some disturbing similarities to several active cases, including details that were never released to the press. Obviously he brings this up to his superior and convinces him that there's something to the theory, but it's all circumstantial right now. He stakes out the author's home and is super convinced that the author is the murderer, but they don't seem to do anything??? Like they literally are at the house all day, that's it. Most they do is leave for groceries. So you get this dynamic of the serial killer mining the author for creative murder schemes, the author being lovingly encouraged by the serial killer, and finally the detective who is just so sure that the author is the killer and that if he sticks it out long enough he'll FINALLY have proof. annieutimagines Plot twist, The serial killer and detective use to go out so it gets sub what personal. "You need to stop seeing them. I think they are a serial killer." Serial killer breaths in. "Look-" ladyhavilliard ..perfect theskystealerthebookthief I need 4 seasons and a movie on this I would watch the hell out of this
Apparently, Crime, and Dating: writing-prompt-s
 A dating service where matching is based on
 people's search history exists. You're a serial killer.
 You go on a date with a writer.
 endreams-s
 Serial Killer: metaphorically, if you were to kill
 someone, how would you do it?
 Writer: Air shot between the toes, it'll look like a heart
 attack
 Serial Killer who is obviously in love already: "sucks in
 a breath ok
 fangoddess817
 Writer: how long would it take to die if you were to
 potentially stab someone in the guts
 Serial killer: anywhere from 2 to 30 minutes
 Writer, already bringing a ring out: "shaking thanks
 infinityonthot
 A++ addition
 tetsuskitten
 Writer: "shows the serial killer the murder scene
 they're writing
 actually work?
 babe, i'm not sure if this would
 Serial killer: "kisses writer on the forehead and
 leaves, comes back later, a suspicious scent of blood
 coming off them* it works baby, you're doing great
 tigerliliesandcherryblossoms
 ILOVE THIS
 vmohlere
 Oh no, murder comedy is my jam
 laziestofthedreamers
 Ilove this, I love all of this, but quick question, does
 the author know? Like are they aware that their
 significant other is a serial killer or do they just think
 that they have a morbid sense of humor? It'd be even
 funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like how
 Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly
 gulible, and on top of it they're a horror or crime
 novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop
 or something so it's completely normal for them to
 come home smelling like blood, no murders going on
 here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home
 from a long day at work.
 Now fast forward a bit and the author has managed
 to get their first book published, with loving support
 from the serial killer who helped them fine tune all
 the murder scenes, and it's a big hit. Enough so that
 a detective with the local police department has
 noticed some disturbing similarities to several active
 cases, including details that were never released to
 the press. Obviously he brings this up to his superior
 and convinces him that there's something to the
 theory, but it's all circumstantial right now. He stakes
 out the author's home and is super convinced that
 the author is the murderer, but they don't seem to do
 anything??? Like they literally are at the house all
 day, that's it. Most they do is leave for groceries.
 So you get this dynamic of the serial killer mining the
 author for creative murder schemes, the author
 being lovingly encouraged by the serial killer, and
 finally the detective who is just so sure that the
 author is the killer and that if he sticks it out long
 enough he'll FINALLY have proof.
 annieutimagines
 Plot twist, The serial killer and detective use to go
 out so it gets sub what personal.
 "You need to stop seeing them. I think they are a
 serial killer."
 Serial killer breaths in. "Look-"
 ladyhavilliard
 ..perfect
 theskystealerthebookthief
 I need 4 seasons and a movie on this
I would watch the hell out of this

I would watch the hell out of this

Apparently, Ass, and Drunk: snarling-through-our-smiles I once lost my keys at a frat house. My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully- disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch. Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out do not remember The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house. I stood there, right in front of the front door. This was a novel experience for me. I'd never been at a frat house in broad daylight before. A boy, presumably, of the house, asked me what I was doing. "I lost my keys in here last night, I called back. "I was seeing if I could go in and look for them?" He opened the door and gestured for me o come in. "Go wherever you want." I'd never seen a frat house post-party Derore. Wandering up the stairs a by hungover and still-drunk frat boys sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light. A few of them threw puzzled glances my way. I'm sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination. I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller- esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed. "Do you like dog movies?" he asked, voice from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket. I told him I did. e mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing. I told him I was looking my keys. "Sorry, I haven't seen any keys around bere I didn't doubt him. Twenty minutes had passed. I'd searched just about every bedroom and nuclear- at dumn-site of a bathroom in that house. I'd given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommates' forgiveness and get a new set copied. As I stood there in the hallway, silently a particularly burly frat boy approached me. "You need help with something? "I lost my keys here last night and I can't find them, I've looked everywhere. "What do they look like? I'll put it into the group chat. He was already pulling out his phone. No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell. It was worth a shot. "Um, it's just a ring of keys. The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big. Like bright pink, you can't miss He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat. "Alright, I sent the message out. Good luck. e turned and left. And with that, A few moments later, I heard a distant and it was getting louder and louder, One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me. "Someone tell the girl!" One of them shouted, faceless in the mob. "Girl! Hey, GIRL! We found your keys, girl!!! They circled around me. I hadn't felt that old, One of them split himself off from the crowd. "Are these -"he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, "your keys? And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring. "Yes,"I whispered. "Oh my god, yes." "EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY YYYYYYYYYY!!" The cheer went up. Turns out he found them in the bathroom upstairs. I thanked them again profusely. There was a scattered round of "no problems" and then, just suddenly as they descended, they all dispersed, like ships in the night. gatorfisch THIS is boys will be boys Nice Frathouse
Apparently, Ass, and Drunk: snarling-through-our-smiles
 I once lost my keys at a frat house.
 My drunk ass had actually walked home
 without them, pounded on my apartment
 door, gotten let in by my rightfully-
 disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to
 pass out on the couch. Apparently I
 puked in the toilet before passing out
 do not remember
 The next morning, I schlepped back to the
 frat house. I stood there, right in front of
 the front door. This was a novel
 experience for me. I'd never been at a frat
 house in broad daylight before.
 A boy, presumably, of the house, asked
 me what I was doing.
 "I lost my keys in here last night, I called
 back. "I was seeing if I could go in and
 look for them?"
 He opened the door and gestured for me
 o come in.
 "Go wherever you want."
 I'd never seen a frat house post-party
 Derore. Wandering up the stairs a
 by
 hungover and still-drunk frat boys
 sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food
 and showers like moths to a porch light.
 A few of them threw puzzled glances my
 way. I'm sure they thought I was some
 post-bacchanalia hallucination.
 I entered one room where a boy was
 drunkenly watching some Old Yeller-
 esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of
 his room from his bed.
 "Do you like dog movies?" he asked, voice
 from the fact that his face was squished
 against his pillow and half-buried by his
 blanket.
 I told him I did.
 e mumbled again, pleased, and asked
 what I was doing. I told him I was looking
 my keys.
 "Sorry, I haven't seen any keys around
 bere
 I didn't doubt him.
 Twenty minutes had passed. I'd searched
 just about every bedroom and nuclear-
 at dumn-site of a bathroom in that
 house. I'd given up on ever finding my
 keys and was prepared to beg my
 roommates' forgiveness and get a new
 set copied.
 As I stood there in the hallway, silently
 a particularly
 burly frat boy approached me.
 "You need help with something?
 "I lost my keys here last night and I can't
 find them, I've looked everywhere.
 "What do they look like? I'll put it into the
 group chat. He was already pulling out
 his phone.
 No one ever checks a group chat, I
 thought, but what the hell. It was worth a
 shot. "Um, it's just a ring of keys. The
 keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like
 yea big. Like bright pink, you can't miss
 He nodded, presumably typing this
 description faithfully into the group chat.
 "Alright, I sent the message out. Good
 luck.
 e turned and left.
 And with that,
 A few moments later, I heard a distant
 and it was getting louder and louder, One
 assumes that how I felt in that moment
 was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest
 stampede through the ravine as a horde
 large young men all thundered down
 the stairs, making a beeling for me.
 "Someone tell the girl!" One of them
 shouted, faceless in the mob. "Girl! Hey,
 GIRL! We found your keys, girl!!!
 They circled around me. I hadn't felt that
 old, One of them split himself off from
 the crowd.
 "Are these -"he pulled out a ring of keys
 from his pocket, "your keys?
 And lo, there was the distinctive bright
 millennial pink cat keychain dangling off
 the ring.
 "Yes,"I whispered. "Oh my god, yes."
 "EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
 YYYYYYYYYY!!"
 The cheer went up.
 Turns out he found them in the bathroom
 upstairs. I thanked them again profusely.
 There was a scattered round of "no
 problems" and then, just
 suddenly as
 they descended, they all dispersed, like
 ships in the night.
 gatorfisch
 THIS is boys will be boys
Nice Frathouse

Nice Frathouse