games (mostly text-based) about houses and places-- exploring them, haunting them, feeding them:
childhood homes (and why we hate them) - after a decade, you return home.
return - a text-based horror game about coming home.
singing from the far side of the hill - about a trans woman, homeless after a bad breakup, who rents a stranger's spare room. it's a decision she comes to regret.
anatomy - Explore a suburban house, collect cassette tapes, study the physiology of domestic architecture.
leave house - leave house
the open house - We at Northtree Real Estate (in partnership with Optix Dynamix Labs) are proud to present our new, state-of-the-art, open house simulator! Come and take a quick tour of 15615 Hollow Oak Lane, a familiar and comfortable showcase home in one of our premier developments!
what girls do in the dark - This little game is based off one of the greatest fears they had as a teenage girl: showing up late to a stranger's slumber party.
unbecoming - a sonically-textured interactive horror fiction exploring cycles of trauma and unspeakable forces of nature in a mythic rural American landscape.
13 laurel road - an interactive fiction game about the relationships we have with places and reconciling with trauma. You play as a young man named Noah who has been tasked with picking up some things from his cousin’s old house.
domvs - a gothic mystery game in which you rely on your environment to uncover the truth.
flesh, blood, & concrete - you find yourself in a vast, empty apartment complex.
i am still here - a short, unconventional ghost story and vignette reflecting on the end of a long lockdown.
vacant - Film a ghost-hunting show.
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I am completely fascinated by this abandoned home some urban explorers came across in Belgium. It’s covered in moss, which only adds to its charm, but look at the Plexiglas sunroom.
Look at the big windows.
There’s a lot of mold inside, but this would be the kitchen.
There appear to be stairs going to an upper level in the living room. There may be a bedroom in that dome on top of the structure. I wish he’d taken more photos.
Looks like there’s a bathroom in there.
And, there appears to be a pantry here.
Apparently, it’s been abandoned for 30 yrs., but whoever lived here must’ve had a child, b/c there’s a Mr. Turtle sandbox. So fascinating.
https://www.instagram.com/realjefsteticsworld/
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Dp x Dc prompt #3
Steph stared at the beat-up, probably homeless, kid that was currently raiding her fridge from the doorway of her apartment.
That wasn't there before.
The kid looked up and they made eye contact. They entered a stare-down, neither speaking a word. After a while, the silence gets broken by the kid.
"This place sucks."
Which, rude.
The kid then closes the fridge, one of her juice boxes in hand, and takes a seat on her couch. Her couch, which is now getting covered in blood because the kid's still injured...
---
Steph has sent a picture to the group chat.
In it, she has her arm around the shoulders of a heavily injured black-haired blue-eyed kid who looks heavily disgruntled and like he might bite her, while Steph herself is full-on grinning at the camera.
The caption reads "im pulling a bruce ✌️😘"
Several people are typing...
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Of Tiny Tots, Mistaken Identities, and Reunions
Seventeen year old Damian Wayne is dragged to a business deal outside of Gotham (along with his father and Drake), mostly to keep up appearances that the family does work outside of Gotham, networking, and because Damian does need to learn the ropes of the company, he decides to head outside the meeting with the Manson family to get a breather (mainly cause the Manson's were annoying him fully, it was like they were trying to suck up towards Damian and trying to push their daughter on him but at the same time he caught them almost insulting and hostile towards him before they would stop and correct themselves) when out of the blue a three year old toddler with black hair comes running over with a cheerful "Daddy!" and latches onto his leg.
Damian is stunned in place but feels frozen when he hears a voice, older and almost identical to his own but he can detect a familiarity in it, a voice he only hears in his dreams nowadays say.
"Ellie, no! That's not me Starlight! I'm so sorry dude-"
When Damian turned his head towards the voice he's meet with an near identical face, granted there were some minor differences, but very, very familiar pair of striking blue eyes staring at him. Eyes that were somehow full of life, which shouldn't be possible because the last time he saw those eyes they had been dim and milked over years ago. The speaker had become startled at the his sudden turn and the words that he had been saying had quickly died out when he too took in Damian's features.
"D...Damian?..." the name came out so soft and small that Damian almost didn't hear it but he did.
And before Damian could stop himself, he spoke a name he hadn't dared utter in years.
"Danyal."
His twin looked like he had just seen a ghost, and Damian was sure he looked the same. And given the last time they had last saw each other it was no wonder they both looked like death warmed over them for a moment.
After all... Damian had failed to protect his brother, Danyal al Ghul all those years ago on a botched mission.
His bother who... wasn't dead.
His brother who was looking like he wanted to run but was keeping himself rooted in his spot.
His brother whose eyes were glancing downwards and seemed so nervous.
His brother who knew the little girl, Ellie, still hugging his legs.
His brother who had... responded and corrected her mix up when she had called Damian 'Daddy.'
And oh, she's looking up at him and making grabby hands wanting to be picked up and she has Danyal's eyes and his nose and-
Oh... Damian.... Damian's an uncle it seems.
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No Place Like Home
Sometime after everything, Mobius ends up in Don’s place on the timeline and settles in. Loki is slowly but surely figuring out a way to leave the tree for longer periods of time. He wasn’t sure if Mobius would remember him, but loves him too much to stay away entirely even if he didn’t.
But Mobius does remember him, and his script flies out the window.
—
I’m so utterly obsessed with these guys,,,, they just need to be silly dads in suburban cleveland,,,
for some reason I could not find any reference pictures for the kids? that’s why they’re a bit less fleshed out than loki and mobius. plus I don’t usually draw children, so 🤷♂️
I might have to make this a continuing au because my need for domestic fluff is already outweighing my need for sleep
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Look, friends.
Do you think this is a post about my adorable baby succulents? No. Look harder.
It's about the GIANT HOLE IN MY FENCE that I had to patch up with cardboard.
I can't blame Pampérigouste for this one; the brutish nature of the damage is not consistent with her usual modus operandi. Pampe outsmarts locks like Arsène Lupin; she doesn't charge at fences like a bull who saw a red cloth. This is Pampe Pondering A Fence Problem:
No, the damage to my fence looked a lot more mindless this time. Boorish. Boar-ish. I'm blaming a boar. A deer would have destroyed the whole thing rather than just the lower half. Note that there is not a single tuft of llama wool on the damaged wire mesh.
(Note no.2: the boar's smile was originally meant to be a tusk but it really just looks like a sardonic smile)
I brought some chicken wire to patch up the hole—but there wasn't enough of it. Then it started raining and I felt persecuted and decided to just cover the hole with cardboard and go have my morning coffee and get back to this later.
This is not an Innocent Pampe post; there is no such thing. My temporary cardboard solution lasted 8 to 10 minutes. I'm not sure exactly when she got out, but by the time I went back outside to repair the fence there was a Pampe-shaped hole in the cardboard.
(Not really; she just kind of lifted or ate a corner then wormed her way through the very small opening. I think.) (See, this is how you recognise a Pampe escape: you're not entirely clear on what went down, you just know there was a llama inside and now there is a llama outside.)
It was still raining and I didn't feel like going after her, plus it felt pointless to bring her back in her pasture before the fence was repaired, so I went in the barn to look for my tools and rummage through leftover pieces of previously-destroyed fences, hoping to find something the right size.
Then I heard Pampelune's hyena shriek, aka the llama alarm call. It was followed by:
horrified chicken screams and frantic feather noises; the soundtrack of a violent fox attack
infuriated barking from Pandolf
very loud panicked braying from Pirlouit
basically, chaos.
I ran outside just in time to see Pampe emerging from the woods at a full gallop, pursued by a bear. I didn't immediately identify the animal that was chasing her as the giant dog that he was, because he was running with a weird gait, with his legs going everywhere like he was frolicking at top speed (I now know that this dog is a puppy that has learnt to run just a few months ago, but that didn't occur to me at the time because this puppy is the size of a calf.)
Pampe was running towards the cardboard through which she had escaped and she managed to squeeze through her small corner hole again (I assume—there were trees blocking my line of sight and I only saw her again once she was in the pasture, running for her life along with the other 2 llamas + donkey.) Meanwhile, the dog didn't see the corner hole and tried to power through the cardboard much like a boar, or was carried away by his momentum and didn't brake in time; I don't know. In any case, when I reached him, he was stuck.
My large piece of cardboard was tied to the fence posts and still holding strong, but the middle was a bit soggy with rain and not too solid, so the dog's head went right through it. The rest of his body didn't.
He could have probably finished breaking the cardboard quite easily, but for some reason he instantly gave up. On life. By the time I got there the dog was half-in and half-out of the pasture and he looked defeated. Which made my piece of cardboard look like a mediaeval beheading apparatus with just a hole for the head.
I went to lock an angry Pandolf in the barn and checked on the chickens along the way (ruffled & offended but fine); I was hoping the dog would figure out how to extricate his head from the cardboard in the meantime. He did not. I tried to call him in a friendly tone (from behind) to encourage him to free his head by stepping back, but the concept of taking a couple of steps backwards in order to extract his head from the hole might as well have been advanced engineering. He clearly had no idea where his head was, where his body was, how to make the two a coherent whole again, and he started whining pitifully.
I untied the rope I had used to attach the cardboard to the fence posts, then wriggled the piece of cardboard a bit to try and free the dog's head. The dog was alarmed by the wriggling and took several steps back—but I didn't manage to hold on to the cardboard so it just moved with the dog. He clumsily ran away, taking the cardboard with him, wearing it around his neck like the world's largest cone of shame.
He immediately got stuck between two trees.
I was starting to find the situation hilarious, but the poor dog did not—he lay down and started making sad broken noises like a malfunctioning dog-robot. He didn't look very threatening but he was still a very big (and stressed) dog so I felt a bit wary of touching his head to help him, and decided to run home to get a box cutter. I figured I could easily rid him of most of the cardboard and leave him with just a soggy cardboard collar that would soon fall apart. I heard my landline phone ringing from afar and ran faster, and it was one of my nearest neighbours, the retired lady who lives on the plateau.
"I've been trying to reach you!! I saw your llama in my garden earlier, I was going to give her a little treat—" (she loves Pampe, for some reason) "—but then my dog saw her too."
I know this woman's dog—he's a tiny thing with fragile nerves who thinks the whole world is out to get him, so I asked anxiously, "Did Pampe scare your dog?" and she said "Oh no! Domino is here with me; but I have a new dog. His name is Texas."
I thought of the gigantic puppy currently sobbing in my woods, held prisoner by two trees, a self-inflicted cone of shame and his total lack of reasoning skills.
"Yes", I said. "I've met Texas."
The old lady asked worriedly if he'd scared Pampe ("Il est un peu zinzin" she said—he's a bit crazy. "I wanted to call him Rex, but then I met him and thought—Texas!!") I told her I was pleased with her dog for scaring Pampe, because she needs to learn that her pasture is her only hope for safety in this cold uncaring world and as soon as she steps out of it she returns to her lowly status as a prey animal. Then I ended the phone call because I was worried both about Texas and about the large hole in my fence. Thankfully all my animals were still terrified and hiding far, far away from Texas.
Texas actually managed to free himself before I attempted to cut the cardboard, but he still thought of me as his saviour and was very happy to follow me through the woods back to his owner's place. Before we left I propped up the cardboard against the damaged fence, and despite the hole in the middle no llamas escaped in my absence; I think the whole area still smelled like Texas and fear.
I'll admit I was initially tempted to leave Texas with his head stuck in the cardboard in a more permanent capacity in order to patch the hole in my fence with this amazing anti-Pampe Cerberus. Like this
(I know this artistic rendering makes my llamas look like frightened carrots and my donkey like a bunny but I will not be taking constructive criticism at this time)
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