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Shirley Jackson ― The Haunting of Hill House

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anyway, richard siken

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The Archer playing from the other room during a thunderstorm.

Pre-order Taylor Swift’s Lover, out 8/23 💘

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“I hope to arrive to my death late, in love, and a little drunk.”

— Atticus

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emmabvandenberg‌:

“You know, you’re probably right, and it might be better if I just rang him to let him know about his wallet. His ID had a number on it.” And she wasn’t entirely confident it wouldn’t get lost in the hustle and bustle of the store, as it had evidently gotten lost the first time around. “Oh, uh, thank you,” she smiled, “I like yours as well.” Her own wasn’t an accent back home but she’d found that in America people tended to comment on it at some point, even though they themselves had accents to Emma’s ears.

       She smiled at the returned compliment, something really of no control she realized and something so probably foreign to well, someone foreign. They were in New York City as it was, it wasn’t as if she didn’t hear a slew of sounds and accents throughout any given day. “I sometimes try and fake one like it,” that was true, a lot of the time it came with some play-like antics and most of the time she got weird glances or maybe only what she perceived as weird glances. “I’m no good though.” Hopping down a step again and making the other woman even more giant, “I get well buggered with the slang of it all.” 

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jolie-noelle-in-nyc‌:

Noelle smiled awkwardly at the blonde woman’s question. “No”, she shook her head. “I just felt some sort of distress next to me and I was wandering if..there’s anything I can do to help”, she pressed her lips together. “If that’s okay. If not…still okay”, she nodded and turned to her book, still not really able to concentrate.

     Camden’s watch lingered on a couple seconds too long once the woman turned back to her book— how diplomatic of her. Finally dipping into her bag once again, this time purposefully quiet. Pulling out another container she knew held either more cash and mini lighters with old cartoon characters printed on the sides or a container of that one object she was looking for and then some. Or, none of the above. 

     Reaching out to place it on the table in front of the either annoyed or sincerely generous person next to her; “You can help. Tell me what you find.” 

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emmabvandenberg‌:

“Oh, it’s fine…I don’t mind going back…someone else must’ve dropped it.” Emma shrugged but smiled slightly at the other woman, “you can walk back with me if you want to make sure I’ve done my part in full but I should return it. It’d be a pain to go back to the store and not have it be there. I’ve lost my wallet before. It’s such a nightmare.” So if she could help someone out of a similar mess, she would. 

    “I don’t need to check up on you.” she assured, the sentiment long gone, once there was do diligence. Besides she wasn’t the others police. She wasn’t her own most of the time. She also felt anxious at the prospect of being in a bookstore for longer than five minutes today, “Rob from Illinois will be singing your praise. Even if he’s been issued a new ID by the time this one reaches him.” She added, from one foot to the other Camden looked intently at the figure that looked like a giant in the steps before her, a little subject change never hurt those so pertinent in one direction, “I like your accent.” 

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ameliaxdonovan‌:

“I mean, I thought this was all hypothetical anyway. So you could already be down there waiting to catch me, right?” Camden was a bit out there but Amelia enjoyed the other woman’s company for that very reason. Too many people fell into line too easily whereas there was never a dull moment or conversation with Camden. “Like would a stranger just try to save me?” She laughed and looked over the crowd of people dancing below, “definitely not in the state their in. Maybe if you’d asked me earlier in the night I would’ve been more confident. What about you? Who do you think would save you?”

     “Sure. Hypothetical.” She gave a comically tinged shrug, a smirk on her lips before she said her peace. “I’ll be out there arms wide but, even then. We’re no hero’s, pavement is pavement. But yeah.” Would she really? Probably not, not at least in a realistic situation, but Amelia seemed to gravitate towards some kind of outlook Camden wasn’t prepared to give in to. Interesting she chose the less inebriated to take action when inebriation seemed to be key in a lot of scenarios, Camden took a breath, “That guy.” She pointed to the random man she’d been watching for the last ten minutes. Dark jeans. White shoes. Nothing fancy. A hoodie with a blazer on top. His movements, his laughter that seemed forced. Her own inebriation a pique that she felt she could register those others feeling exactly the same. “He’d be too late but he’d try.”

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emmabvandenberg‌:

“Oh –– it’s not?” Emma frowned, brows pulling together. She hadn’t even bothered to look inside, properly convinced it had been the woman before hers. “I didn’t even think to–– well, I didn’t want to lose you if it was.” She laughed slightly and shook her head, “oh, no, never. I’d be the worst at it too and the guilt,” her eyes grew wide, “it’d eat me alive, I can barely hang onto extra change if they give me too much at a register or something.” She’d gone back to return a quarter before and despite not carrying much cash around London, she did the same with pence. “I should probably give this back to the front desk then. Who knows who might be looking for it.”

      “—or you can give it me. Trust that I’ll do the right thing.” Camden said, reaching out a hand now for the tiny pouch of valuables. It was watching the other struggle with the concept put in front of her that quite possibly made her feel charitable. The other too unaware of her own connection now to that very accessory. Maybe it was karma or something like that, talking it out wouldn’t quite cut it. (For now at least, who knew how long that wallet would end up sitting on her bedrooms closet floor for..or again, maybe not). “Pay it forward. Isn’t that what it’s called? You’ve already done your part.” 

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     “I’m sure you weren’t the only one.” She said with a smile that mostly showed in her eyes, “There should be humor in death. Even fake death. Maybe the examiner will stitch his routine...” joking and morbidity aside, appreciating the staccato attached to such topic .... “Lively.” She answered, staying in tune.

“I was watching a medical examiner for a class and I guess he was slightly grumpy because the forensic expert asked if he woke up on the wrong side of the autopsy table. It was so hard for me not to laugh at how clever it was. I literally had to hide my face with my notebook so he didn’t see me laugh,” she gave a small giggle as she thought about it. “So how was your day?” @cityofdreamsstarters​

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       “My craving.” Camden answered the girl behind the counter, the sweet scent she got from the bakery was mouth watering and certainly the draw for this impromptu splurge. “This, what’s that?” The puff pastry grabbing her full attention. 

It was a slow day at the bakery. They were after all still getting things in order. But it was exciting that there was a newness to everything, something that Wynonna had really wanted. Holland had gone out to take care of a few things. In the mean time Wynonna had decided to stay up at the front and work on some paperwork. She sat behind the counter going through some orders and preplanning her week. She heard the front door chime a bell and she looked up to give a warm smile to the customer who had entered. “Hi there,” she said, a southern twang painting through her voice as she straightened up and headed over to the front counter. “And what could I help you with today?” She drummed her fingers against the counter top awaiting for the request. @cityofdreamsstarters​

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      Camden listened to the wistful blonde, dreaming of days gone by. Not not one for eavesdropping, it wasn’t like there was any salacious gossip only the sole fact that the other girl, at one point had a maid. Barely leaning in close enough, “You should try it again, exactly that. Even without the maid...parfaits are pretty simple.”

“I was walking past the Met earlier today and I saw a bunch of kids. They high school kids. They were sitting at the steps. They were wearing the uniform of my old school and it brought back so many memories of high school for me that I… I don’t know, I felt really nostalgic.” Millie recalled her high school days rather fondly. “I used to sit at the Met steps before school every morning and eat breakfast. My dad’s old maid used to make these really good yogurt and berry parfaits to have on the go. I would just sit there, just me and I’d have the yogurt for breakfast while I waited for my friend. I think I kind of miss that.” // @cityofdreamsstarters​

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       Not much of a reader—a reader with intent as she liked to think of it, the bookstore was certainly a place a segment of her past caught up to her. It felt good being in one, she’d purchase one of the relics and put aside with the rest that in turn made up furniture in her room. But today, it was a brief encounter, no spinal browsing, no sneezing at finding the oldest. It was a countdown location... now her cheeks were instantly bit as she took the stairs with a sense of not pride necessarily but something like satisfaction. Until she was taken out of her own head by a voice that grew until the touch was a part of the woman’s intentions. A bit surprised it was herself the other was after.

        “Did I?” Camden asked, turning back without a hint of actual shock or dismay because there would be no sense in that. Knowing full well it wasn’t hers and that the wallet was empty. The bookstore’s walls that easy out no one would follow once they realize their pockets had been picked. “I’m not sure this is mine, it looks heavy. Lots of photos. And like it’s a man from Indiana’s. But thanks. Good to know we aren’t all petty thieves.” Oh the irony. 

“Hey! Excuse me!” Emma called out to the blonde who’d just left the bookstore ahead of her, “sorry –– miss, you dropped your,” Christ, Emma thought, hating the cold combined with what was now a brisk walk to catch up to the woman, “hi!” she tapped her on the shoulder once she’d caught up, extending a fallen wallet to her, “you dropped this on your way out….figured it may be a bit important.” She certainly knew the pain of a lost wallet and wouldn’t wish that headache on anyone if she could help it. 

cc @camden–bright