cryptid posts from a cabin in the arctic

sometimes a family can be a surgeon and a corpse and a blood-magician. sometimes a family is two boys who have died before and their still-living sister the doctor who wasn't there to save them. sometimes a family can be you and your baby brother and a man whose ribcage you have opened up in order to put your hands inside him and cut out his heart, on his request, because he begged you to, in repayment for which two years later he put his hands on your brother's naked soul and dragged him through that dark gate backwards and sealed him again in his own dead gutted body so he wouldn't ever leave you. and somehow im supposed to be normal about it

Official Post of Massachusetts

I remember an interview with a guy that did the camera work for nature documentaries and he said that baleen whales like these guys were the scariest things to shoot because “They’re the size of a train, they can suddenly appear out of nowhere in dark or murky water and they don’t make a goddamn sound. I was absolutely sure that one of them was going to hit me and well, ‘that’s all folks!’. Gave me a lot of perspective on how I handle myself when filming smaller animals now.”

has anyone considered that it was probably her house too. where else was she supposed to put her chintz?

Imagine being the gays at a pride event in 2004 living their lives when someone grabs the microphone and announces to the room that Ronald Reagan was pronounced dead. Can you even imagine the hype, the celebration, the pure elation

This is the Pride Month that It will happen. I feel it in my gay bones