First off, we got slammed here in Pensacola by Hurricane Isaias. We didn't personally experience much damage, but many people did. Trees down everywhere, and it's not hard to find huge oaks which crushed houses. And of course, many, many downed power-lines.

Weirdcore’s four arms and razor claws slashed forward toward the heart of Dreamcore. Where they struck the rival’s flesh, blisters bubbled and leaked, the fluid inside winding out like purseworms. The sinewy worms wrapped around Weirdcore’s paw, and with a sucking acidic slurp, severed it at the joint. When the wriggling tentacles unclenched, Weirdcore’s wound released a golden powder which buzzed upward in a spiral. Weirdcore howled with anguish and confusion, but within

scatterplat In personal news, I got the lease taken care of, I think anyway, so I don’t have to worry about that for a year. Planning a trip to New Orleans next month with Raven to see some oddities, so that should be fun, as well as various local events. I’m seriously mulling over the idea of moving huge elements of the Daydream Misfit project into a press and producing small batches of hard product. The website would then be considered the sandbox for excavating tangible

I will in fact be hanged in the morning. Or worse. They allude to it, they make bets on it in the halfway desk around the corner past the black alloy bars of the door and the thicker black bars of the gateway. They’re purposely not quiet about what’s coming to you, but purposely vague: “Permanent Conditioning.”

A long time ago, before you were a tickle between the thighs of your great-great-great-great grandfather’s mother, three apes ruled as kings on a long-lost jungle continent.

Back for one of my periodic check-ins. It's fun to look back at the previous update and see what I thought I would be getting accomplished and what did and didn't get done.

Daydream Misfit is your home for the very best fiction on Daydream Misfit. The following tales of revenge, lust, travel, and existential despair have been lovingly culled from our library of fascinating, experimental fiction. These stories truly represent the pinnacle of words.

For these regular updates, I'm going with a past/present/future thing. I'll talk about what I'm working on currently, what's on my Never-Ending List of Amazing Ideas (tm), and then talk about an old project with the benefit of hindsight.

Then I made the mistake of seeking out another video from the same profile. Now I get multiple videos in my feed from Sherry at artjusgrapeleaves every day. I watched a couple, still amused. After half a dozen, I had had my fill.

I went out one overcast morning with Raven Storm looking for fun textures. Sought out spaces where rusty metal meets weeds. Collected a ton of images from which to make "finder compositions."

The 2025 film Together, starring the astonishing Alison Brie and featuring exemplary body-horror special effects and Dave Franco, is an unconventional documentary which follows real-life couple Brie and Franco’s ongoing health and psychological struggles as they seek to reboot their lives and transition from celebrity life to quiet couplehood in a rural countryside town.

There was a young man of the village whose mother sent him on a long journey. "This cat catches no mice. You must take the animal to my sister, who lives at the base of the mountain. She knows herbs which will coax the cat to accept its own nature as a hunter. Only a stupid son would bring home a cat that doesn't know how to be a cat."

Humans and dogs have lived in symbiosis for tens of thousands of years, each adapting to the other’s psychology. But what if that balance tipped fully toward the canine side? What if dogs, with their pack logic and clear hierarchies, became the ruling species — and humans, willingly or not, became their loyal companions?

"If you fail, it's because you weren't hungry enough, or smart, or willing to work. The formula is simple enough - sacrifice sleep, joy, time, and doubt. Replace these with measurable outcomes. Why are so many unwilling to do what is required?

In the center, on an altar, lay the sacrifice: Bad Bunny, skin mottled by the fickle light, chest rising and falling slowly. He was drugged and bound in ritual knots, hair spread like ink, moustache and goatee untamed. He smiled faintly in confusion, whispering sounds none of the other Bad Bunnys could hear.

The next thing Blue realized was that the colors had changed, and it had become very cold. He found himself gliding high above a craggy landscape, with his flippers pushing gently against a thick ether. Looking down, he saw that shadowy puddles of a dark and oily substance spotted the landscape, mirroring an orange sky.

Knock at the door. What the hell? I hate this shit. Nobody knocks on your door when you own your house because they know they get the business end of a Glock in their face. What time is it? 11 am. Who is it? I am not to be fucked with.

Glancing out the passenger side, I see a girl in a Honda Civic, angelic and orderly, looking at me through the raindrops on her window and the raindrops on mine. I grin, embarrassed. She smirks. She's beautiful.

And up high, there’s a sweatshirt tangled in the branches, flapping rhythmically. Makes a little jam with the traffic, something to rock to, back and forth. Perfectly good sweatshirt. When I get woke up, I’m going to go over and get it.

"Isabella Heresy has gone to the mountaintop and returned with visions of a paradise in decay, regenerating itself through orgasm." Paul Clark of Emergence was similarly impressed, noting "Heresy is the lifeblood of a new kind of culture. Her work is a phenomenon."