Tennessee Williams Play

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.

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 Earth for the final? time.” – Lady Elizabeth Cholmondeley’s letter from her deathbed, written two days before her disappearance.

Neverhome Handcarved and pressed to wood by Drew Meger 

This and more now available in the shop!

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 Horror

Happy 103rd birthday, you smelly goat!

@wilburwhateley, by your request