snowrassa

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it’s because you’re always living in that damn castle

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no dad.. being tormented and endlessly suffering was YOUR dream

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So I started playing Dragon Quest 11 again...

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Just gonna leave this here

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Genevieve Tobin photographed by Edward Steichen for Vogue, 1923

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Inshallah they find him.

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which could mean nothing

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how do i fill the eleanor vance shaped hole in my life now that i’ve finished reading hill house?

you reread the book and think about her at night in bed and then make a playlist for her and think about her some more and then when you're starting to forget her a bit you'll see two stone lions or a cat named dancer and she'll find you in the middle of the street on a tuesday in july and you will cry. hope this helps

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actually I think I was in shock at the concept of Lancelot closing the show on his own instead of Arthur, Arthur/Raoul and Lancelot/Phantom characterisation makes perfect sense

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A post shared by Emmett O'Hanlon (@emmettohanlon)

one million curses upon instagram for not letting me screen record this but can we pleeeeeease talk about the choice to make Arthur Raoul and Lancelot the Phantom

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View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Emmett O'Hanlon (@emmettohanlon)

one million curses upon instagram for not letting me screen record this but can we pleeeeeease talk about the choice to make Arthur Raoul and Lancelot the Phantom

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x

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shirley jackson's the sundial illustrated by miles hyman

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Look, she said aloud once—it was much later; it was very dark, and no one knew where she was—look, here is where I buried a doll once, when I was so small, and I buried my doll on a wrong turning so no one would ever find her grave. Right here is where I buried my doll. I could always find my way out, from here; I used to try to lose myself on this very path—this is where I used to come and hide when I was unhappy, and just beyond this turn is the spot where I cut my hand on a sharp branch and my brother bandaged it for me, because my mother was dead. We both cried, I remember; I used to come along this path pretending I was lost and could never go home again—no longer, she thought in despair; these ways are wrong now.

— Shirley Jackson, The Sundial

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Nothing out there is real. Everything is made out of something else, and everything is made to look like something else, and it all comes apart in your hands. 

Shirley Jackson, excerpt from The Sundial

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Shirley Jackson, The Sundial

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the sundial (1958) by shirley jackson