withered, once-beautiful matriarch: my, it sure is hot tonight in... the south. smoulderingly handsome, reckless heir to the family estate: *leans on a doorframe* hot- yes, just like the heat of my repressed homosexuality and barely concealed rage.
wintersoldierfell: *will graham voice* iS YOuR SOCIAL WORKer iNSIDE ThAT HORsE
coreypress: “I remember them - those long summer nights in the garden, so cool after the heat of day. I remember the children, my children, laughing and playing. But their faces… why can’t I remember their faces? I remember love.. and longing. I feel that longing again. Please. Find my children before I depart this… Continue reading
rosymaplemoth: rosymaplemoth: “It was in the township of Dunwich, in a large and partly inhabited farmhouse set against a hillside four miles from the village and a mile and a half from any other dwelling, that Wilbur Whateley was born at 5 A.M. on Sunday, the second of February, 1913.” – H.P. Lovecraft, The Dunwich… Continue reading