Every time I go out to visit the midwest or mountain west I’m baffled as to how anyone lives in these gigantic flat plains or giant bowl valleys between mountains with no trees to speak of. It’s nature’s panopticon. You can go inside I guess but that roof can’t hide you from God like the woods can. It’s gorgeous of course but I’m going back to Mirkwood where I can think my wicked little thoughts in peace, thank you very much.

i feel the same except the complete opposite. the mountains are nice to visit but how does anyone live there? you don’t know what’s hiding in there. peace is endless flat plains, nothing but you and the angel you’re struggling with.

fascinating! enjoy the type of horror that feels like home to you and I will do the same xoxo


#the answer is me‚ *I* am hiding in there #(okay technically I don’t live in the mountains but yeah) #((certainly I have visited some very cozy caves)) #(and technically I’ve never been to the prairies but #I absolutely took one look at the place secondhand and was like ”that sounds fucking miserable”) #this probably deserves some warning tag but I am not sure what #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once

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