Hungerstone

by Kat Dunn

“No,” I say, a little too quickly. “I do not.” Her smile is delicious and wicked and just for me. “Good. I think we have so much more to do together.”

✂️✂️✂️✂️ yknow?

She strokes the hair back from my face. “You will. There is so much for you to discover.”

like gay sex

“You know this story. When I was twelve and visiting the old works with my father,

proceeds to tell her the story

Oh, enough—it is as much as I can do not to tear the hair from my head and smash every mirror I pass. I cannot do this anymore. I cannot. I cannot.

you and me both, sister

Cora is watching me in horrid fascination, so I stick out my tongue with a masticated lump of fish on it,

once again....girly pop....youre thirty

I hook my nail beneath the wallpaper, tear off a strip and roll it into a ball, then put it into my mouth. The paper is sour, chalky.

well now shes eating wallpaper

Nothing. I come to a chair leg, and it is as thick and solid as a joint of beef. My mouth waters. I think of Molly with a fist of Carmilla’s hair in her mouth. The girl with her mouth red with chicken blood. The woman spearing the meat of her husband’s arm and tearing off strips with her teeth. I understand them perfectly. I take a bite, clamping my jaws around the wood, gnawing at it for splinters. I want more. I need more.

YOURE EATING A TABLE

“Why did you leave me?” “There was no need for me to stay. You needed to do the rest on your own.”

BUT SHE DIDNT EVEN DO THAT!!!!! she literally wouldve keeled over and DIED THIS BITCH WAS EATING /WALLPAPER /!!!!!!

I wish I could say he was a monster from the start, but it was not so. He was far from a perfect man, but he was no painted devil.

absolutely slapped in the face with the reminder of an undoubtedly much better book i should be reading right now..........HERE of all places

All we can hope for in life is to know one’s own desires in order to be able to act on them. To want is to surrender to uncertainty. To step into the unknown. To expose ourselves to all possible outcomes and trust we will not be destroyed by disappointment.

weve now come to the point where were turning to the audience and just stating the theme directly

Nethershaw has stood for five hundred years and may stand another five hundred more, whatever comes through its walls.

not the shirley jackson reference 😭 in THIS book....

Cora puts down her book where we are cloistered in the drawing room. “The weather is so fine, we simply must take the air, dear Lenore.” I am struck by a sudden anger at the epithet. That is Carmilla’s word for me. It is hateful and perverse from any other mouth.

oh my god PLEASE calm down. i know this book is all about how we call women hysterical when they have problems and are calling out for help but this is straight up unhinged, erratic behavior and idk how im supposed to just go with it when cora seems just...so inoffensive but every little thing she does threatens lenore to just spiral into rage

“We can take watercolors and paint this charming landscape—I am quite captivated by every vista, are you not? And a picnic, like rustics! Oh, do say yes.”

like she gets so hated upon by the narrative and FOR WHAT!?

Cora is too lively, and I curse myself for my praise of her yesterday. I have no patience for her when my very life lies in the balance of action.

we've stooped to hating on a woman bc theyre "too lively"

“I really thought you weren’t like other women. I was wrong. You’re worse.” I am choked with rage, lost for the words that will do justice to my feeling. “Yes,” I spit. “I am so much worse. You cannot begin to imagine.

"im not like other girls, im worse" is STILL just misogynistic "not like other girls" sentiment (the ONLY one allowed to say this is nat scattorcio!!) lenore youre not a badass, you just SUCK