#haunting of hill house inspired

[mendingbone]

River— ᴀᴇsᴄʜʏʟᴜs, ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀᴇsᴛᴇɪᴀ//@ɢᴏᴏsᴇᴋɪᴅ ᴘᴏsᴛ//ɴɪᴋᴏʟᴀʏ ᴅʏʙᴏᴡsᴋɪ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴇxᴀɴᴅʀᴀ ɢᴏʟᴜʙᴇᴠᴀ, ᴘᴀᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄ 𝟸: ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀʙʟᴇ ɴᴇsᴛ//ᴡɪᴋɪᴘᴇᴅɪᴀ, ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴛɪᴄ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴇɴsᴇ//ʀɪᴄʜᴀʀᴅ sɪᴋᴇɴ, ᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛ ᴏғ ʟᴏᴠᴇ//ᴄᴏɴᴏʀ ᴏʙᴇʀsᴛ, sᴀʟᴜᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴs//ғʟᴏʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄʜ, ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ʟɪᴀʀ//ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇs ʙᴜᴋᴏᴡsᴋɪ, ʀᴀᴡ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ//ᴀᴍʏ ᴡᴏʟʟᴀʀᴅ, ʟᴀᴜʀᴀ ᴘᴀʟᴍᴇʀ ɢʀᴀᴅᴜᴀᴛᴇs//ᴅᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴀʟʟᴏʏ, ᴛᴀɴɢᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇʀ.

[lunarmoves]

you weren't sure what had woken you up.

you only knew that one moment you had been dreaming—of what, you could not recall—and the next you were staring up at the textured ceiling of your bedroom. your eyes took a moment to adjust. moonlight, dewy and milky, yawned along the walls from the open-curtained window to your right. there was a stillness to the air befitting of the late hour. you blinked once, then twice, your mind hazy with lingering sleep.

that was when you heard it.

scritch scritch scritch.

slowly, you sat up, your blanket pooling around your waist. you rubbed at one of your eyes, groggily trying to piece together some vague understanding of what you were hearing. your room looked no different, honestly. boxes were still lined along the leftmost wall that you had yet to unpack. a desk tucked in the far right corner had your hunting weapons scattered across its surface—your bow and arrows. your silver dagger. the door directly across from you was slightly ajar, just like you'd left it earlier.

faintly, you could see small specks of dust as they floated in the moonlit air. you wrinkled your nose. you had yet to do a deep clean, preoccupied as you were with everything else. you wiggled your toes slightly from where they poked up from underneath your blanket.

it was quiet.

scritch scritch scritch.

you turned around, craning your neck back as you stared at the wall your bed's headboard was propped up against. it was a plain thing, painted a light lavender that looked midnight purple in the darkness of your room. you watched it for a moment, like you were expecting something to reveal itself or change. but nothing did.

you reached up and ran the tips of your fingers along the wall. then, carefully, you stood up. your feet sunk into the plushness of your mattress. it would be easy to lose your balance. you braced one hand on the top of the headboard.

you stared at the wall some more. and slowly, ever so slowly, you leaned forward to press your ear against it.

the plaster of the wall was cool against your skin. you could hear your own breaths, your own heartbeat. a steady rhythm that nearly wiped out all other sound.

you waited, terse and quiet.

scritch. scritch scritch.

it was like it was directly inside your ear. incessant. like someone was scratching a thin nail against concrete.

you huffed and leaned back to eye your wall once again. this house was old, handed down through generations until your grandfather had eventually gifted it to you. and thus you knew the prospect of rodents running inside the walls was not too absurd of an idea.

you rubbed at your eye again, too tired to deal with this at the moment. gently, you banged your fist against the wall—a muffled thump thump thump that echoed throughout your room. and after a few moments of silence, you plopped back down in your bed. hopefully that scared the rodents off.

you'd deal with them in the morning.

the next time you heard the scratching, it was just past sunset.

you were in one of the halls on the first floor of the house, repainting it after having ripped off the old, yellowed wallpaper. the lights flickered for just a brief moment, drawing you from your work as you glanced up at the bulbs on the ceiling. but before you could squint at them for too long, you heard it.

scritch scritch scritch.

right in front of you.

you paused and looked back down at the section of the wall you were painting. your eyes were level with discolored plaster you had yet to cover up. you'd bought rat poison a few days ago at the small town nearby and crammed it into whatever cracks in the walls you could find. you had hoped it would be enough. it was not.

your lips twisted as you frowned at the wall. you really did not want to contact anyone to deal with the rodents. it would cost a pretty penny, and you were trying to save up so you could make additional repairs on the house. you grunted and set your brush down on the top of the paint bucket. then, you stepped back and wiped your hands on your overalls as you scrutinized the wall.

further down the hall, you heard it again. faintly.

scritch scritch. scritch.

your head turned to stare in its direction. and after a short moment of consideration, you trailed after the sound. maybe it would lead you to a hole you'd missed.

the scratching moved down the hall and to the right, trailing all the way up to a peeling, white door with a large lock on it. you grimaced. the basement. you never did find the key to open it—especially with how cluttered everything had gotten once you'd moved in.

you weighed your options in your mind for a bit, then turned around to make your way over to one of the storage closets. rummaging inside for a minute or two, you let out an aha! once you found the perfect tool. a hammer.

gripping it in your hand, you made your way back over to the basement door. and with a few well-placed hits, you broke the lock on it and kicked it off to the side. you tucked the hammer into your overalls and pulled open the door. dust wheezed into the air.

wooden stairs led down to a dark room. it was stifling. musty. you could see the cobwebs that lined the rail and the corners of the staircase. you shivered slightly. this door had not been opened in a very, very long time. you could only imagine the amount of work you'd need to do for restoration.

you tugged the collar of your shirt up so that it covered your nose and mouth. just past the door frame, there was a switch on the wall. you flicked it.

light spluttered to life from a bulb that hung over the middle of the staircase. you peered down and caught a glimpse of a concrete floor. off to the sides of the stairs, you could see more boxes, their shadows stretching languidly towards you. you strained your ears, listening past the deafening roar of the basement's silence.

scritch scritch scritch.

you started your descent.

the stairs creaked and groaned with every step, protesting against your weight. you winced slightly at the sounds and found yourself skipping a few steps so you could reach the bottom faster. your skin crawled as you made your way past all the cobwebs. your shirt slipped off your nose once you stepped further away from the stairs. your eyes trailed around as you took everything in.

the basement was just that: a basement. another room for storage. moonlight from a small, rectangular window on the wall directly across from you filtered through the air. it cast everything in an ethereal glow, illuminating things just enough that you could decipher what you were seeing.

there were more wooden boxes scattered about. old, antique furniture and other miscellaneous items were interspersed between them. a lamp in the shape of a flower with curled petals. a rocking chair with carvings of small animals along its arms and legs. a chest with another lock tucked in a corner.

you marveled at it all as you ventured around the room, stepping between stacks of books and ornate dishware. you wondered why your grandfather never sold any of this stuff. though, you supposed he was a bit of a hoarder.

you kept your eyes and ears peeled as you glanced at the surrounding walls. there was no more scratching. no pattering of tiny feet against the floor. no holes from what you could see either, though you were going off of the limited lighting from the window, so perhaps you missed something.

you frowned. you'd have to come back when it was brighter down here, maybe get a few lamps to chase away all the darkness. mind made up, you turned back to head towards the staircase.

as you did, however, your eyes caught onto an object just under the window. it was covered with a white sheet—stark like a ghost against the shadows that surrounded it. and it was such an odd thing, wasn't it? the only covered thing you could see. curiosity got the better of you.

approaching the object, you took note that it came up to about chest height. your nose wrinkled as you caught sight of the layers of dust upon the cover. you used your arm to shield your nose and mouth. then, with your free hand, you swiftly tore the white sheet off.

you weren't sure what you'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't a small, metal cage stacked atop another box. you let the sheet flutter to the ground, waving your hand in front of you in a feeble attempt to disperse the cloud of dust that had burst in the air. on top of the cage was a slim, vertical piece of paper. you picked it up.

you... couldn't tell what you were looking at. there was some pattern of sorts on the paper, drawn in ink that nearly glistened in the dim lighting. squiggles and waves. dots and strange characters. you squinted at it—felt the thick material of the paper itself—then shrugged and let it fall to the floor to join the sheet. your grandfather had been a strange man, particularly in his later years. you'd learned long ago not to question the things you found in his old house.

bending slightly, you peered past the thin bars of the cage. you'd been expecting an animal of sorts, dead or taxidermied or something. what you didn't expect were two dolls.

you straightened up and reached up a hand to the small lock on the cage's door. what was with your grandfather and locks, honestly. you pulled out the hammer from your overalls and quickly disposed of the lock before shoving it back into your pocket. the cage door creaked open. you pushed past it to grab the dolls and tug them into the light.

they were similar yet different, with matching smiles and crescent markings on their faces. one was colored red and gold, with yellow protrusions from its head that you realized mirrored the sun. the other was silver and blue, a hat with gold stars nestled comfortably on top of its head. both the dolls had blank, grey eyes that stared up at you hauntingly. you ignored the goosebumps along your arms.

you squeezed them slightly, one in each hand. your fingers sank into the plush material of their torsos. your thumbs ran across the intricate stitching of their tiny clothes. and you wondered what they were doing down here, locked in a little cage seemingly made for their little bodies. it was strange.

shaking your head, you glanced up at the window to see the moon steadily rising into the sky. it was getting late and you still needed to clean up. you eyed the dolls in your hand and set them atop the cage, propping them up against each other so they were sitting upright. you'd come back for them later. maybe you could sell them to one of the kids in town.

as you turned around to make your way back out of the basement, you failed to notice the way the dolls' eyes suddenly glowed a gentle white. following your figure as you disappeared up the stairs.

[topquarkintown]

Haunting of Hill House, but make it in the style of 1950s lesbian pulp thrillers

[sandwichhut]

I cannot get The Haunting of Hill House (2018 series) out of my head. Living there rent free since it came out. Thinking about all the little things. Like today Shirley's episode poked my brain and said Hey, you remember when Olivia showed up at the morgue and the light played on her face like when she wore the sunhat and it ties what should have been a beautiful mother-daughter moment into another twisted tether that the House has on Shirley and. Yeah. When media's good it really imprints on you.

[jamesunderwater]

“so this is it?”

I am apparently in SOME KINDA MOOD right now because I really decided to take angst to the next level (((((: but here ya gooooo. cw: death.

James walked into the cold apartment, boxes and garbage bags where bookshelves and warm lamps and cozy furniture had been. Shadows climbed the walls, cast off from candles placed periodically on counters and across the remaining dining table, where once there’d been dinner parties and poorly made pasta and laughter over deep wine glasses.

“Hey, you.”

He turned around, and there she was. Standing in the darkness of the hallway like a centurion guarding the entrance to a room that was once his. Her long hair splayed across her shoulders, frizzy and unkempt, and her eyes carried dark circles beneath them. Still, she was gorgeous, standing there in a silken nightgown like it was just another night and they were just heading to bed.

“Lily,” he breathed, nearly choking on the sound. Before, that name had held infinite universes for him, had been the very sun around which he orbited. Now it was just a word, just another thing that could be snatched away without warning.

“Where have you been?” She asked, and the hurt in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees.

“Honey…we’ve talked about this, I can’t– I can’t stay here anymore.”

Her eyes filled with tears, then shifted suddenly to harried confusion. “Where is Harry? Where’s my baby?”

He was crying now, couldn’t remember when he’d started. If he stayed here much longer, there would be no getting out. “Harry’s fine, Lily, he’s fine. I had to…we had to go. Remember?”

She stared at the floor, trying to remember, then shook her head so violently her red hair whipped around her pale shoulders. “No, no, I don’t understand…”

“Lily–look at me, Lily,” James took a step closer, though he knew he shouldn’t. He had to go, but she was so lost, how could he leave her like this? She turned her eyes on him like he held all the promise in the world, like all of her hope was in his hands alone. “Lily…there was an accident, and you–you saved Harry, but…sweetheart…”

He was right in front of her now, and he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, how would he ever let go if he did, but he placed his hand where it should have met her cheek, and they both felt as it passed right through her.

She fell to the floor, wailing.

He sat with her as he’d done half a dozen times before, waiting for her breaths to steady. He would have done it a thousand times, his entire life, but this was killing him…and Harry deserved at least one of them.

“So…this is it?” She finally choked, tears streaming down her face, her eyes roving his, begging him for any other answer but this.

James knew that in doing this, he was cutting out a piece of his chest and leaving it behind in this hallway, in her hands. But a parent with half a heart was better than no parents at all, and if the roles had been reversed, Lily would have done it too. She would have left him. He could do this. He could be the man both of them needed.

“I love you, Lily. If you forget everything else, remember that.”

[elleinalavenderhaze]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: wolfstar - Relationship, Jegulus - Relationship, pandora/bella, Tedromeda, lucissa - Relationship, Jegulily - Relationship Characters: marauders and gang Additional Tags: Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Modern Marauders (Harry Potter), Psychological Horror, Inspired by The Haunting of Hill House Summary:

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place stands upright, made of impenetrable brick walls and solid wooden floors, standing in silent remembrance of the most noble family of Black. For generations, it has witnessed creation, success, failure, and love. It had even witnessed destruction, in most cases, of the Black families’ own self. Now it stands empty, quiet, in complete isolation. Its walls hold darkness, its grounds grown wild with neglect, but still it stands on as it has for hundreds of years, and will probably for a hundred more. Patient it waits, silent it watches, for the heir to return home and take their place once more within the walls of the most noble house of Black.

[waitinqroom]

i drew a bent neck lady

[lunaoblonsky]

Aesthetic Inspiration - Television

Her Spell That Binds Me: A Dark Sapphic Fantasy Romance

A spellbinding rivalry unraveled by fate... A sapphic romance born from the ashes of prejudice… A Regency Era tale of lust and magic.

Release Date: January 8th, 2024.

Free with Kindle Unlimited! Now available for pre-order here!

[batrachised]

Hi! I saw you were doing ao3 wrapped - writers edition - how amazing!

I'd love to get the answers for questions #3 and #29, if I may. Thank you so much in advance!

aww you're sweet! <3

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

realizing my blue castle fic exists, so I'm going to say that because of the title! Barking Up the Right Tree is (1) a pun (2) a play on words and (3) nature themed for john foster 😌(this is the deep and layered subtlety that I strive for in my work)

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I'm sweating over this one lol, nothing is coming to mind! In general, I don't have favorite lines - maybe favorite moments, but imo that's different. I don't really have an artist brain where I can be like "this...this was my peak" lol. The only thing I can think of is an ending i liked for a short horror-eseque star wars fic? but even that I just looked at and noticed a major punctuation error so maybe not 😂

[hajihiko]

gluing your horror to the insides of my eyelids it’s so genuinely striking and unsettling in the best ways. curious if you drew inspiration from anything for the horror elements or if this was straight from the mind of rhombus?

The general concept has been on my mind for a while and probably isnt going anywhere, uuuhh idk that the idea came from anything other than "Junkos bodyparts are still her, what could that mean"

[sealedfates]

i desperately need to know if taylor has read the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson

[juniperhillpatient]

realizing increasingly anyone who has seen lake mungo & ends up reading my wip is gonna be like. 👁️👁️ rose. girl.

[delicatebluebirdruins]

So imagine the Duke befriending a child and their parents then the child is very sick and he gets the little family out and away to get the child better medicine and it works and the parents keep away from the village only realising how bad it was when they were away

things happen and the child returns battered and bruised and wanting to make a difference somewhere but they can't and they die and then wake up in a strange world and they walk and find a child who has been there for a lot longer and is so weary for one so young and so old at the same time and they gather the child up and take care of her and they go on many years later (and many more children later who grow as people as much as they are able) they find another battered and bruised child who is not sad (yet) but angry at the world and everything in it and the child doesn't want them yet

and then something different happens something changes a rumble across the world and the first child realises her mother is dead and she feels relief utter relief and the weight on their shoulders on all their shoulders lessens and Eva this time leads them to what remains of a battle field and the two figures embracing one glowing and as they watch the one glowing disappears and they watch as the man gets up and smiles and also disappears

they leave and find the angry child but her edges aren't as sharp as they once and now she is just heartsick or heart broken perhaps where this time they don't say anything to her directly they just sit down and Eva for the first time talks about her mother, they were all aware of her mothers efforts to bring her back and as she spoke she used the mold to make a bowl and taking the cue the others did the same trying something that had been brewing since Miranda died the first time and from the bowl a flower grows

Eva is done talking now and another child takes her place all the while Evie watches despite her self and creeps forward curious and asks how to do that pointing at the 7 flowers and they shrug and just go try it its best if you're not really thinking per say just let your hands do what they want- Evie doesn't she grabs a handful and scoots back again (nervous that they would make her talk as well) and she begins to try and fails and tries again and fails getting frustrated and storming off this time Eva follows and finds Evie and just sits with her and goes you don't have to speak but listen to me and Evie is curious so she stays and listens for hours at the end Evie leaves again this time with a handful of mold and they Eva resumes her story as Evie try and manipulate the mold again going through the same cycle but this time Eva intervenes advising her to count and keep trying and on attempt something Evie is somewhat successful in making a vaguely recognisable shape of a dandelion

and Evies ability to see what happens in the world is still there and she doesn't use it as often but she does visit and observe Zoe who as luck would have it was talking about her and she watches it unfold and hears what Zoe has to say about her and Jack (and what Jack said in the mold to Ethan all those years ago) she goes back to mold and the group who now has a garden

Evie speaks now just the begining (before the Baker house) about the song one of the researchers sang near constantly (Go Tell Aunt Rhody)*1 and the many tests and the lives that were changed and her desire for a family only to be rejected by Miranda and later Mia*2

as she talked with Zoe's words in her head she realised that Mia rejecting her fucking hurt and she is still angry*3 and they understood through their own experiences at mother mirandas hands and things

it takes a lot longer for her to feel brave enough to talk about the Baker House and the Winters and Rosemary. Evie is afraid to be rejected again and condemned for her pain and her hate and her anger (they condem Mia yes but understand her to a extent what they heard about Lucas however? well they got pissed more so then ever before)

Evie grows and she wants to see the Winters again and visits one by one starting with Rose and Mia (she does not know how to talk to them yet just wants to see them), then with her family in tow finds Ethan and they talk (and Evie creates flowers) and listen and go their seperate ways and then Evie puts more thought into finding the Bakers and talking through it with them (it was both harder and easier then it was with Ethan... Marge does hold her hand for a short time)

all the while the mold itself changes grows calmer and more peaceful as a whole they find the masked Duke and heal him they heal the monstorous Rose clones (didn't heal more of changed they look like trees now unless you tilt your head in a certain way and you can see faces once contorted in pain and now looking like they sleep)

the inhabitants don't forget their pain and sorrow and some don't forget nor fully forgive but they do attain some semblence of peace

Developer interview

Mia did reject Evie and I will talk more on it when I finish replaying re7 it will be interesting to write to say the least (well it will be more Evie and Mia and Alan then Evie with the Bakers as a whole)

rejection in children link from pysch central

[silversiren1101]

Thinking about how Mino's and Regill's 'honeymoon' is clearing out Citadel Darvhage [which glows green at night and has mutated wildlife nearby and all the Hellknights that'd been in it were disappeareded by some Elder God they pissed off] and all the potential for both hilarious and terrifying antics that would happene. Literal haunted castle honeymoon.

Regill's demigoddess wife bigger than he is hiding behind him screaming as some horrid ghost monster jumps out at them. Them camping out in their "basecamp" room at night and getting no sleep from all the horrid monster noises, trying to guess what each one is. Ghosts and aberrations being a totally different foe than they're used to compared to demons, keeping records and having to actively update Order bestiaries as they encounter new horrors. Updating maps and blueprints as they find more rooms and areas, labeling the monsters they find and what they *think* the room was.

It's like a fantasy version of buying a fixer-upper but there's horrible monsters from beyond the stars involved lol. THIS PLACE IS OURS BY RIGHTS WE KILLED THE SHOGGOTH IN THE DUNGEON FAIR AND SQUARE!

[baubeautyandthegeek]

Kisses And Kindness – Hugh Crain/Olivia Crain/Poppy Hill

A/N: Day 6 for @polyamships Multiamory March. First GIF made for me by @whoreofthecottage

He walks in, of course, as Olivia leans into Poppy’s touch. It’s light, so light, reassuringly tender and he can see Olivia’s eyes glisten at the soft contact of ghostly lips to her own, Poppy shimmering into view at the contact. He should be used to this, he thinks, but he can’t help loving seeing them together. Olivia had bolted from him earlier, tears in her eyes, a headache so violent she’s tripping even as she runs. He’s followed slower, now, as he watches, Poppy smooths a thumb over Olivia’s cheek, kissing her again and promising she won’t let her suffer.  Olivia turns, sensing him, holding out a hand and Poppy beams as he comes closer. “Hi handsome, she’s all fixed up… you look after our sweet girl, please?” “Yes ma’am.” Hugh can’t help his smile, kissing Poppy’s cheek as she passes. “Thanks Poppy.” It's a weird relationship, sharing his wife with Poppy, sharing himself with her too, but he loves it.

[bird-of-eternia]

There is no without

We don't live on without those who've gone.

They are broken up into little pieces,

Scattered through our lives.

Through our memories.

We live on with them right there beside us

In a smell that reminds us of them

In reruns of their favorite show

In their favorite song

They stay with us. Here. Not without

They stay with us in our memories

They live here in the present in moments of remembrance.

They live in the future...in stories.

There is no without