1. Clarice Lispector | 2. Egon Schiele | 3. Dylan Thomas | 4. Joseph Lorusso | 5. Jenny Slate | 6. Ron

as you drive to your final destination for the day, you pass a crossroads. there is a hitchhiker posted next to the stop sign.

they approach your window. had it been brighter, had there been more people in the car, you might've picked them up. it is far too late and too lonely in your car, so you shake your head and begin to accelerate.

they seem to keep pace with your car, running alongside it until you reach 35.

you pull up to the next stop sign, and try not to look. there's a hitchhiker there. staring at you, but they seem longer than before. taller, lanky. you begin to accelerate.

they keep pace with you, for miles they run next to you car, eyes unblinking.

close your eyes, just for a moment. they've gone. you're back at the first crossroads, and nothing remains but the feeling of someone watching from a distance. just a trace, like a memory

“In a game with no consequences, why are you still playing the ‘Good’ side?”

god i love coming home and being at home and sitting inside my home and staying home

I see you've noticed my overhead mural of mushrooms. That's myceiling.

one of my cousins has one of those wretched sequined nicolas cage pillows and today the rest of us received this photo of perhaps the most upsetting thing i’ve seen all year, slugolas cage

if you need me i’ll be in the forest, searching for portals to another dimension,

Writing is not about 'telling an epic story' or 'making something that will outlive you'. Writing is about going "You know what would be fucking awesome?" and then committing word crimes

lil 16 page zine that i made at the coffee shop this weekend! a sort of pick your path style mini game, because i love wizards + interactive fiction. hope you get out of the wizard dungeon!!