I keep musing about what would happen if Catherine went to Allerdale Hall from Crimson Peak:

Because on paper, it's everything she wants, old, musty rooms. Gothic architecture, falling apart. etc. But then on the other hand, it is freaking TERRIFYING and I think Catherine actually only wants to be scared in the abstract.

We have this passage about the storm at Northanger:

Yes, these were characteristic sounds; they brought to her recollection a countless variety of dreadful situations and horrid scenes, which such buildings had witnessed, and such storms ushered in; and most heartily did she rejoice in the happier circumstances attending her entrance within walls so solemn! She had nothing to dread from midnight assassins or drunken gallants. Henry had certainly been only in jest in what he had told her that morning. In a house so furnished, and so guarded, she could have nothing to explore or to suffer, and might go to her bedroom as securely as if it had been her own chamber at Fullerton. Thus wisely fortifying her mind, as she proceeded upstairs, she was enabled, especially on perceiving that Miss Tilney slept only two doors from her, to enter her room with a tolerably stout heart; and her spirits were immediately assisted by the cheerful blaze of a wood fire.

I think she would enjoy the first day at Allerdale, enjoy looking around all the rooms, and then run away after (or even during) the first night. Edith is made of sterner (and perhaps more stupid) stuff!

[1]

AH ACID GOTH QUEEN SAKURA TIME HERE WE GO 

Honestly this arc is just like. A rough ride. But?

BUT?

THE AESTHETIC 

The aesthetic is what dreams are made of 

The metaphor of it all is so clear and yet so anime that it feels so in place at the same time. 

Like, they’re playing human death battle chess because of course they are. But then again, haven’t they always been? From the very beginning they’ve been playing imaginary 4D chess with Evil Wolverine without seeing him or knowing he was there, but their lives were on the line every step of the way (some more than others). And just like a chess gambit, Evil Wolverine has a complicated plan in mind about which pieces he’ll lose when and how it will all lead him to victory. 

The difference in Infinity is Sakura. She’s no longer anything like a pawn, like she may have been before. She’s actively taking the Queen seat for herself and fighting Evil Wolverine at his own game. The fact that we SEE them playing chess is also a mirror to the fact that now they KNOW they’re playing chess. For the first time they can actually see an opponent and can begin making moves against him. And they might be physically playing the Angelic Layer game but it’s really only the surface level of the overall gambit, just a small piece of the whole tactic, and Sakura’s play will wrest their fates out of Evil Wolverine’s control and put it into their own hands. 

And like, spoilers for the rest of this arc, clearly, because that’s what we’re here for, but in a very CHESS move Sakura plans to sacrifice the Queen to save the King and win the game. 

AND SHE DOES IT. 

💀💀💀💀💀

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

My grandfather and my godfather (a beloved neighbor and dear family friend) had a long standing bet- for one dollar- about who would die first. Both of them being slightly pessimistic (in the funny way), they both insisted that they themselves would be the first to die. Any time my grandfather had a health scare, he’d gleefully call up my godfather to boast that he’d be passing “any day now” and he was sure to win the bet. It was a big family joke and they were always amiably sparring and comparing notes about who was in worse shape, medically speaking.

When my grandfather was in hospice care dying of liver cancer, my godfather was quite ill also. It took him great effort to make the journey to see his dying friend. As he came into the room, supported by a family member, he shuffled to my grandpa’s bedside and silently handed him a dollar bill. He was ceding his loss of the bet, as they both knew who was going first. My grandpa had been in quite bad shape for a while and was no longer able to speak but let me tell you he snatched that dollar with unexpected strength and literally laughed aloud. He knew exactly what the gesture meant and he couldn’t help but find the humor within the grief. It was the last time any of us heard my grandpa laugh, as he passed shortly after.

When I talk about my appreciation for “dark humor” I’m not so much thinking about edgy jokes, but rather the human instinct to somehow, impossibly, both find and appreciate the absurdity that is so often folded into the profound grief of life and death. When I tell this story I think it kind of perturbs people sometimes, but it’s honestly one of my favorite memories about two men I really deeply admired. I could never hope for anything more than for my loved ones to remember me laughing until the very end, and taking joy in a little joke as one of my final acts.

Wounds of the Earth

— by xis.lanyx

– Audrey Hepburn

— David Cronenberg, Consumed

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