h0ney-hunny

[h0ney-hunny]

"congress investigating now :) but i stay silly :3" is honestly such a serve I've been thinking "but i stay silly :3" all day... holy fucking bingle

[h0ney-hunny]

US Elevation.

by @cstats1

[h0ney-hunny]

They’re going on an adventure

(via)

[h0ney-hunny]

I am attracting unconditional love, abundance, high-vibrational experiences, and sacred connections.

[h0ney-hunny]

stardew valley gothic

• the time passes so quickly yet so slowly. it’s been a week, it’s been months, it’s been years. you do not age. nobody ages. the children don’t grow up. you start forgetting everything about your life before. you live here. you’ve always lived here.

• when it rains, you hear strange faraway howls and screams that fill you with primal terror. you never stay outside for long on rainy days.

• your crops grow within days. you plant seeds in the ground. ten days later, the fields are overgrown with corn.

• you find things when you dig in the dirt. roots, clay, stone. books. skulls that don’t look like they belong to any animal you know.

• there are only two channels on tv. the weather and the fortune teller. it doesn’t matter when you turn it on, the weather program is only just starting. “it will be sunny tomorrow” the weatherman says with empty eyes and a too-wide smile. you flip to the fortune teller’s channel. “the spirits are in a bad mood today” she says, “be careful”. you shiver, and decide not to go to the mines today.

• have you always been so strong? you can chop down a tree in minutes and you can carry hundreds of stones in your backpack.

• you wake up at exactly 6 every morning. you can’t wake up earlier, or later.

• sometimes your scarecrows are not planted where they were yesterday.

• you hear whispers in the old community center. you can almost see something indiscernable out of the corner of your eye. you bring offerings, hoping to appease the spirits. • today it’s winter. you swear two days ago it was summer.

• the berries you found in the woods have a strange metallic taste. their juices stain your mouth red. you keep eating them anyway.

• nobody ages. nobody ages. nobody ages. what year is it?

• you keep bringing offerings in the old community center. honey, milk, wine, peaches, dead animals. there are never enough offerings.

• the fruit bats that live in the small cave near your house leave fruit for you. they bring you out of season fruit, exotic fruit, fruit that comes from halfway across the world, fruit that you’ve never seen before.

• the wizard granted you the power to understand the spirits that live in the old community center. now you wish he hadn’t.

• every night when you get home, you lock the door and close the windows. every morning when you wake up, your cat is somehow inside the house.

• the train passes through stardew valley sometimes, but never stops. you can hear howls coming from it.

• you try talking to the people in the village, but they always seem to be repeating the same things. “do you have any blueberries?”, asks lewis for the 14th time this month.

• there are things in the mines. don’t go into the mines.

• “we’re insulated from the rest of the world here” says demetrius. now that you think of it, you have never received a letter or a phone call from the outside world. is there even an outside world?

• there is a bath house, north of the town. there is never anyone there, but the electricity works and the water runs. when you enter the locker room, there is a bathing suit just your size waiting for you. the water in the big bath is milky. you can’t see the bottom. you enter it anyway. when you exit, you feel happy and energised. you have nothing to worry about. come back soon!

• the bus to calico desert is out of service. the road to calico desert is out of service. do not go to calico desert. do not ask about calico desert. do no think about calico desert. there is no calico desert.

• you are out late at night, gathering berries. at exactly two am, something knocks you out. you wake up in your bed the following morning. don’t think about it. go to sleep.

• you try staying up past two am the following night, only to be knocked out again. go to sleep. go to sleep. go to sleep.

• you have been here for a couple of weeks, or maybe for decades. nothing changes. you can’t die. you can’t die. you can’t die.

[h0ney-hunny]

tips for driving down back roads at night

check to make sure all of your headlight bulbs are working before you depart from your starting location. not only are broken headlights against the law, you could potentially be blindly stumbling into some dangerous territory. the more area you can see, the better. the last thing you want is to be stuck on their land.

do not let your eyes linger on the wheat fields. some have reported a sudden drop in temperature in their car. some have spoken of a tugging sensation coming from the fields. some have claimed they saw the devil himself grinning back. you do not want to find out what lurks within the wheat fields.

if you happen to come across a hitchhiker, check for wounds or anything out of the ordinary on their person. if their eyes reflect your headlights, drive faster. do not stop under any circumstances. do not slow down until you are absolutely sure they cannot catch up to you. they are not human.

do not slow down or stop to marvel at the cottage in the forest. do not go inside or get out of your car. you will not return unscathed.

if you see yellow eyes watching you from the corn, continue on. they are just the ravens.

if you see red eyes watching you from the corn, continue on. they are just the crows.

if you see green eyes watching you from the corn, get out of there as fast as you possibly can. they will follow you. they will hunt you down.

objects in your side mirrors indeed seem closer than they look. don’t glance over too often, though. they come nearer with every look.

the creatures in the woods are rumored to attack pickup trucks more often than any other type of automobile. make sure all of your windows are shut and your truck bed is empty and uncovered if you drive one. you wouldn’t want to ferry one of them home without knowing.

do not stare at the empty, broken-down cars on the side of the road. they do not welcome the gazes of strangers. it is best if you only say a quick prayer for them and drive on. you do not want to be next.

the radio may spit out some inaudible blubber occasionally. white noise may come through for a few seconds before reverting back to what you were listening to. just convince yourself you’re driving through a spot with patchy satellite signal. don’t mind what they’re saying through the static. ignorance is bliss.

some travelers claim they often hear shrieking while they are driving. contrary to popular belief, they do not want to hurt you. they are just playing tricks on you. just don’t slow down. just don’t stop.

whatever you do, don’t fall asleep. pull into a rest stop, at least. do not fall asleep on the side of the road. you may not wake up again.

the witching hour does not apply when you’re on the road. they roam after sunset. they are bloodthirsty. stay aware of your surroundings.

that stain on the grass over there was definitely from a deer. don’t think too much about it.

right?

not everything that you can see is real.

not everything that is real you can see.

the devil never sleeps. he is out for blood. he is nothing like anything you’ve ever seen before. you have been warned.

[h0ney-hunny]

things from my road-trip through the midwest that just (don’t) make sense

within the frigid apathy of minnesota, a gas station parking lot, lined with rusty pumps and cars with windshields freckled by the greasy stains of splattered bugs. the cashier inside refused to meet your eyes, only looking up from the counter to glance at the empty space behind you. his hands shook. you asked if he was okay, but he only flinched. when he handed you your receipt, the print was blocked by thick, black sharpie. ‘WATCH YOUR BACK.’

amidst the forgotten cornfields of iowa, an old boat discarded in a garden, the cold steel overrun with weeds and wildflowers and other rooted, unwanted things. there was no water nearby, but you could’ve sworn it was swaying on gentle waves. if you were to roll down your window, you would have heard the sharp whirr of a fishing reel and the voice of your long-dead grandfather– foggy, distanced, and stuck between somewhere and nowhere. 

in a ghost town waiting to happen, crumbling apartment buildings, sagging against concrete stairs and fire escapes. their shadows shifted and spilled into each other out of the corner of your eye, piling and folding and swelling on the cobblestone until the darkness had a depth that took up physical space in the alleyways. with time, those bundles of black shade would grow difficult to differentiate from the dull husks of the residents.

in the vast nothing of wisconsin, decrepit barns collapsed at the spine, dotting the side of the highway like corpses. as you drove by them, you could’ve sworn the a/c began to smell like spoiled meat. you flipped on the recirculation and continued on, trying in vain to ignore the swarms of black flies eating away at the wood.

among the sunken eyes of illinois, an overcrowded intersection, cars upon cars piled on top of one another at high noon. the midday sun bore down on you all, heating the field of metal until your fans were useless against the stifling heat. somewhere in the fever, you were reminded of ants under a magnifying glass, the way their legs would spark and smoke and splinter. you blinked, then opened your eyes to empty streets and a black sky. not that it shocked you. time never seemed to tick right in illinois. you kept driving.

in the heart of chicago, sloppy red graffiti under a bridge reading ‘punish the evil.’ you wished you could agree, but as you mulled over your own wrongdoings, your knuckles went white. you thought about things shameful enough to be left out confessional, ugly enough to let rot in the deep caverns of your ribcage. were you evil? did you deserve to be punished?

in the dry monotony of indiana, long stretches of prairie flattened into the dirt as if someone suffocated the land under their boot, the hills like deflated lungs. the longer you drove, the more the rushing wind sounded like wheezing.

on the horizon, a fiery explosion that only you saw, the sound inaudible over the race of cars on the highway. the smoke thinned in the breeze so rapidly your first thought was not ‘what happened?’, it was ‘did that happen at all?’ you stared mindlessly at the blank space where screams should’ve been, frozen. yet, the radio continued to blare, your mother continued her phone call, and the corn stalks continued to sway. the world sped by in your periphery and you just sat there, silent, cradling a secret known solely by you and the horizon, teetering on the divide between imagination and reality.

under the damp mold of michigan, a stray shopping cart blocking your way on a backroad, thoroughly abandoned in a puddle. it was completely empty but appeared heavier than it should have, its wheels sinking into the graveled earth beneath. it took all your weight to leverage the rusting frame into a ditch. the crash was deafening. 

in the dead plains of ohio, two barns with the words ‘PRAISE GOD. LOVE JESUS.’ scarring their faces. they felt like eyes. you hadn’t seen another building for miles, and you wouldn’t see any others for miles more, but that building saw you. 

amidst the blurry familiarity of lake erie, the horrible irony of a highway cross adorned with rotten forget-me-nots. you realized you die twice, and the second death always hurts worse than the first. you grieved at the steering wheel for a woman you’ve never met, then forgot about her an hour down the road. 

at a stoplight in pennsylvania, an eagle digging into a deer carcass. the smell lingered, sticking to your chest and to your hair and to your hands before you managed to roll up the window. the doe’s eyes melted into you, its jaw twitching as a strange bleating noise poured from your radio. ‘what if i were you and you were me?’ it asked. ‘would you be content with this end? have you led a fulfilling life?’ you fled without waiting for the light to turn green.

[h0ney-hunny]

LATE -SUMMER GOTHIC AESTHETICS vibes for the loamy waning of this bright season

Roadtrip Burnout: Bloodshot eyes, flickering neon motel signs, aviator sunglasses, magic 8 balls, recurrent dreams of grey aliens, beaded curtains, dusty denim and incense smoke,  sepia desert vistas, playlists of 1960s rock songs, coded messages in television static, comets in the night sky, fake IDs, gas station snacks, Jesus bobble heads, split lips, patchouli,  paranoia between friends. 

Southern Cemetery: Magnolia blossoms, chipping white porch swings, Spanish moss, suffocating humidity, faded photographs of lacy weddings, tire tracks in mud, mausoleum angels, family trees, the yellow-green eyes of alligators, repressed childhood memories bubbling to the surface, broken porcelain dolls, legs covered with mosquito bites, blood promises, crucifixes and barbed wire. 

Interdimensional Park Ranger: The yellow eyeshine of an unseen animal, circling turkey vultures, unnatural fluctuations in the passage of time, daddy long legs in rotting logs, distorted backwards speech through a walkie-talkie, unexplainable antler shrines, coniferous mountain horizons, star-like bonfire sparks whirling in an indigo night, nests of infant barn owls, claw marks in tent fabric. 

Haunted Boardwalk: Rickety Ferris wheels, carnival lights through fog, saltwater taffy and tarot card readings, childhood best-friends, thunderstorms over the sea, tear-streaked face paint, chipping animatronics partially submerged in brackish water, ill-fated games of truth or dare, vintage circus posters boasting mermaids and wolfmen, underwater caves marked with a skulls and crossbones. 

[h0ney-hunny]

A guide for exploring the woods

Only go in the summer. The winter court will do you no favours. The summer court is less malevolent, but no safer.

When you enter, know that time will not work in your favour. You may lose entire lifetimes within hours. 

Choose a new name, but don’t keep it for too long, otherwise you will belong to it. 

Bring cold iron, wear red.

Carry red berries from a rowan, mountain ash, or holly tree. St. John’s Wort or red verbena flowers are acceptable as well. They will keep you safe, but not for long.

To see through the glamours, place four-leaf clovers in a pouch around your neck. It may help.

Children should wear crowns of daisies. 

If you return home, and your child is different, do not go looking for what you have lost. 

Leave the same way you entered, but never return through the same entrance. The second time, they will know enough to keep you. 

Do not stand in the mushroom rings. If someone you know enters a ring, you cannot save them. 

Never accept a gift. They will want something in return.

Be polite, but do not say thank you.

The food will be the best you have ever tasted. Only eat it if you wish to never leave. 

If you must stay the night, sleep under the rowan, holly, or ash tree. The elder wood will make you tired. Do not close your eyes.

If you hear music, you are running out of time. If you hear harps, your time is up. 

Don’t join the dancing unless they give you a token.

You cannot become one of them, however much you desire to leave your life behind. 

If you see an alder tree, know you will not be lucky enough to go home unscathed. 

Sit under a hawthrone tree or an elderwood tree on midsummer’s eve if you need to find the courts.

Place salt on your windowsills if you make it back, otherwise they will follow you home.

If you meet other explorers in the woods, do not help them. They have been there too long. Do not let them know you can leave, otherwise they will try come with you. Do not let them help you, they will try make you stay. 

[h0ney-hunny]

[h0ney-hunny]

[h0ney-hunny]

rb to make a trans person feel loved 💕

[h0ney-hunny]

[A Special Agent sitting in a car, caption: Diane, 11:30am, February 24th. Entering the town of Twin Peaks.]

[h0ney-hunny]

Twin Peaks production stills

[h0ney-hunny]

A dream soul that wanders.

Sheryl Lee, Michael Horse, Kyle MacLachlan | Twin Peaks

[h0ney-hunny]

Bobby Briggs…

Twin Peaks: Coma (1990) dir. David Lynch

[h0ney-hunny]

The text reads,

“YOU WERE FRANTIC AND FOOLISH, YOU KEPT NO TRACK OF TIME, YOU RAN YOUR DELICATE BODY INTO ITS NATURAL END, YOU BURNED ALL YOUR CANDLES TO STUMPS, YOU ARE TIRED AND HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO LAY DOWN, YOU HAVE EARNED THIS REPERCUSSION, THIS REWARD, THIS RECKONING, YOU FINALLY  NEED TO KNOW

HOW TO DECAY GRACEFULLY

LIE STILL (x13) ”