This used to be a site. A proper website.

#yahoocensorship

gregory-peck:

I’m telling you, brother, it’s a frightful sight for what goes on Halloween night.
The Adventures of Ichabod (1949) dir. James Algar & Clyde Geronimi

I marry the love of my life at the end of the month.

My son will be born at the end of this year.

I’ve spent my whole life wanting to be a filmmaker, and tomorrow, the trailer for my feature film which features actors from some of my favorite films that I would have never believed I’d be directing.

My bands are writing my favorite music I’ve ever been involved in, with my favorite people I’ve ever played music with.

I’m exactly where I’ve always wanted to be, and that scares the shit out of me. I’ve been running for so long, and everyone around me is trying to remind me that I don’t have to run anymore.

I can stop running. I found my way home.

hungwy:

yeah i got it last time

knightofleo:

yikes-im-gay:

someone, anyone- pls

mudstoneabyss:

[you kill me but I clip through the floor so you can’t loot my corpse as my final act of revenge]

sewerfight:

two bros.. chillin in Antarctica… five feet apart ‘cause one of them might be The Thing

weheartevilwomen:

My arms are hungry for you, my darling.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula, 1992

tastefullyoffensive:

I know times are tough, but if you’ve got a few bucks to spare, Rowan could use your help.

plugyourselfin:

Thrice | “The Artist In The Ambulance”

I hope that I will never let you down.

onlybandlyrics:

“This time I’ll get it right.”

— Thrice // Black Honey

weirdlandtv:

WINTER GHOSTS by Sean Fitzgerald.

I wouldn’t have survived my divorce without Chelsea.

She refused to allow me to be treated the way I was being treated. She refused to allow my personal belongings to be thrown away when I had given up on life and was going to let it all be tossed out and unbeknownst to me, collected my personal effects and held on to them until I found a desire to live again, when she then revealed to me that she was in possession of all of it, and brought it all back to me.

She gave me a place to sleep when I had nowhere to go. She fed me when I couldn’t afford groceries.

She was the one who told me about the pregnancy. When other people I considered friends were quite content keeping it a secret and allowing that evil, malicious lie to hide under the surface, she found out, picked me up, and drove me to a safe place to tell me and then held me as I wept until I was nauseous. She platonically laid beside me until I fell asleep, making sure I knew I wasn’t alone in the world and that someone still cared about whether I lived or died. She made sure I knew that someone still loved me.

I need the world to understand, there was no one like her. I was incapable of being the friend that she was to me. Not for lack of effort, but because her level of compassion and love was one that I simply could never dream of reaching. I owe my life and everything in it to her by virtue of her refusal to let me die when I would have allowed myself to sink into the abyss. She refused to let me go. She carried me when I was too weak to walk. And I’ll forever be the lesser of a person without her.

Survivor’s guilt.

I was the one who was supposed to die young. I was the one who was supposed to leave. It was my funeral you were supposed to give the eulogy at. When you saved me from ending my life all those years ago, I feel like you took a part of my darkness away. And I’m terrified it latched on to you and never let go. I would trade me for you a million times over. It should have been me. It should have. And now the world lost one of the most brilliant lights to have ever illuminated its surface. I don’t know how I can do this, because you were the strong one, and I don’t think it was ever meant to be this way. Please come back and let me take your place. Please, Chelsea. I swear to God I would do it without even a moment of hesitation. I swear, and I’ll keep screaming it until you hear me.