#the turn of the screw

[illustration-alcove]

Audrey Benjaminsen’s illustrations for Henry James’s The Turn of the Screw.

[victoriansuggestion]

rather than going to bed, sit up reading, by the light of a couple of candles, an old book of last-century fiction

[ifangirlalot]

hiii, i just wanted to mention that i love your writing and if you could please write a finn smut with she/her pronouns? y/n and him could be actors and are working on stranger things together and they get hot and heavy in her trailer 20 minutes before shooting their scene, so someone knocks on the door and is asking if y/n's in there but finn doesn't stop ykyk doing his thing and so she's struggling to answer and this is such a long request im so sorry 😭😭😭

˗ˏˋ 𝐇𝐎𝐓, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 ˎˊ˗ | starring finn wolfhard

FINALLY AN ACTUAL PLOT TO WORK WITH! I love getting requests, but most of the time you guys just ask for smut/fluff with a character and don't give me any ideas as to what to include, so it takes me forever to actually write- But thank you Nonnie for your (thankfully specific) request!

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~*smut!*~ [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:] p in v, dirty talk, kind of public sex, exhibitation (if you squint), clit rubbing, basically porn w/o plot bc this is literally just smut the whole way through

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[Finn's POV]

With the scene finished, I immediately grabbed [Name] by the collar of her shirt and yanked her into my trailer with me. I've been pent up all morning from her little tease fest during hair and makeup. She thought she was so fucking slick, sliding her skirt up to show more of her smooth thighs, letting her shirt skid off her shoulder to show some more skin. Well now she was going to show me every bit of skin on her body. Since she so clearly wanted to anyways.

"Finn! Jesus, what is your problem, we're shooting again in twe-" I cut off her words with my mouth as I gathered her wrists into my hands and held them against the door of my trailer, my other hand holding her hip firmly in place. I was hardly ever this forward and blunt, but sexual frustration was enough to make any man crumble into a heap of desperation and desire.

[Name] stopped mid-sentence, her words dissolving into a quiet groan as her lips parted against mine. Her hands twitched in my grip, but I didn't let them go. My lips hurried to her throat in a frenzy as my hand slid off her hip and gathered her hair into a ponytail in my fist so I could kiss her neck without her hair trying to strangle me. I tugged the makeshift ponytail and flicked my tongue over her soft skin, so tempted to make a hickey, but still having at least a shred enough of common sense to know that it probably wasn't a good idea to leave one now… at least, not on her neck.

After sucking a few small red marks that would disappear completely within a few minutes, I slid both of my hands to her waist and picked her up. Turns out being horny made me a little stronger than I was usually.. I slammed her body down on the bed and crawled over her, pinning her body down with mine.

"Jesus Finn, what has gotten into you today?" [Name] panted quietly, tilting her head back while my mouth continued its exploration of her neck.

"Like you don't know." I shot back, gently placing my hand on her neck and pulling her head closer. "You teased me this morning and I haven't forgotten. I'm horny [Name]. And you're gonna fix this issue for me." Before she replied, I moved my hands to the hem of her shirt and pulled it off her body, tossing it away into a faraway corner; it crumpled to the floor, forgotten for the moment. I felt around on her back until I found the clasp for her bra. I struggled for a moment, trying to get it free, but when I couldn't, I groaned in irritation and flipped her body over roughly. My hormones were running rampid in my body, I couldn't wait for much longer, and it felt like [Name]'s bra was purposefully trying to ruin it for me.

I finally got the damn thing unhooked and shot it away quickly, letting my hands wander over her breasts, my fingers rubbing her nipples. I moaned quietly under my breath as I moved my head down and let my tongue flick her nipples into my mouth. Her tit felt so good in my mouth, so full, so perfect, so soft.

[Name] moaned quietly, her body arching up in my hands as her her hands wandered into my mouth. She was down to her panties now and I was absolutely loving it. This morning, I woke up planning to wake up and go to work just like every other day, but now I was in [Name]'s trailer with her tit in my mouth and my hand down her panties rubbing circles into her swollen clit while she moaned helplessly under me. Life was fucking great.

I couldn't wait anymore. I needed her now. My cock was throbbing so hard and painfully against my jeans that I felt like it might actually explode if I didn't shove it into her tight, pink pussy right fucking now. I pulled my fingers out of her underwear and lapped up her sticky juices from my fingertips, my eyes meeting hers as she watched me, her eyebrows crinkled up in arousal and her chest heaving from my tease. She moaned and tilted her head back, hips pushing forward into mine.

I grabbed her lush hips in my hands and shoved them into the mattress, keeping her body pinned down as I used one hand to unhook my belt and yank my dick out. I tugged a condom packet out of my back pocket and ripped the foil wrapper with my teeth.

Oh yeah. I came prepared to fuck her dumb with my cock.

I rolled the condom onto my cock and moved down slowly, taking the elastic band of her panties between my teeth and moving them down slowly, my tongue darting out to kiss her wherever it could reach- her thighs, her hips, even the entrance of her pussy, as my teeth slowly moved her underwear down her perfect legs and around her ankles.

[Name] kicked them off and wrapped her arms around my back as I pushed myself between her legs, holding her thighs in place on my waist as I eased my dick into her, inch by inch. I pulled a hiss of pleasure between my teeth, slowly exhaling as her warm core welcomed me in. "Sssss.. ahh.. Fuck, good girl, that's it.."

A cracked moan left my lips as I thrusted my hips into her. I could hear the fap of my cock penetrating her wet hole over and over as she moaned loudly beneath me, shouting my name over and over. For the first time in a while, I felt confident.

"Oh god Finn, yes, yes! Oh god yes, fuck, fuck. fuuuuck!" [Name] moaned, spreading her legs wider, her mouth open wide in pleasure as her eyes rolled back in euphoric pleasure. I pummelled my hips forward again and again, my hand grabbing at the headboard to keep it from smashing against the wall again and again. There wasn't much I could do about the mattress and bedframe creaking underneath us as I fucked her, though.

A knock at the door. "[Name]?" a producer said, knocking once more. "Hey, you're up in about five minutes and you haven't gotten your hair fixed up yet."

[Name]'s eyes went wide with alarm as she looked at me. Oh, was she expecting me to stop? Right now? She was fucking insane, if she was. No fucking way was I stopping now.

I smirked mischieviously and pulled her hips taunt against mine, ravishing her body faster and harder. She was drooling now, cock-drunk from my blatant usage of her body.

Try talking now, I challenged her silently. Do it. I dare you.

"I-I.. nghhhh. I-I, fuck I'm s-sssss…." [Name]'s apology died on her tongue as I slammed my hips into her harder than before and she bit her lip hard to keep from making a noise.

"That's it, good girl, keep quiet. Don't make it obvious what's happening here." I taunted in her ear as I continued to fuck her forcefully. I could feel a knot forming in my stomach, threatening to unravel completely in the next few minutes.

The producer knocked again. "[Name]? Hello? What's going on in there, are you okay?"

Her eyes begged me for mercy, but I just smirked and continued doing my thing. I could feel her pussy clenching around me, letting me know she was close to cumming. I just smirked at her expectantly, waiting for her to let the producer know she was perfectly fine and would be out as soon as we were done. With noticeably shaky legs, might I add.

"Y-yes!" she screamed, panting heavily, but somehow managing not to moan. "I-I'll be out.. s-soon!"

My eyes were locked on her breasts, watching them bounce with every thrust I made against her body.

The producer's footsteps receded and I smirked at her again, pushing my hips directly into her g-spot. [Name] moaned out before she could stop herself and her body shook desperately as she screamed out my name, her body emptying out every ounce of sweet, sweet cum. "Oh God, Fiiiiiiiiiiinn!"

I pushed my hips against hers a few more times before finally spilling into the condom with a load, throaty groan. I panted heavily, my body sticky with sweat as I rolled off her.

"I'm so fucking pissed at you." [Name] scolded breathlessly, but I could tell she wasn't really mad at me. She was more embarrassed than anything. I was sure I'd be embarrassed too, once the high from my orgasm wore off. But for now, I was cocky, smug, and pretty fucking proud of myself.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure you are. Just hush and get your pretty little ass out there before they come looking for you again." I smirked and gave her a cheeky wink as she groaned and tossed a pillow at me, hurriedly shoving clothes back onto her body and running out, leaving me alone, cackling at her as I cleaned up after us.

[mask131]

There's still a haunt on the hill...

In my previous post, I dug through the ghostly chain of adaptations of Shirley Jackson's "The Haunting of Hill House" starting by its various movie incarnations. But I am not done...

Because in 2018, Mike Flanagan released on Netflix his massively successful television series, "The Haunting of Hill House".

Flanagan's television series was strongly influenced by "The Shining", another major haunting-story of the 20th century, first marking American literature under the pen of Stephen King...

... Then marking American cinema by the movie adaptation of Stanley Kubrick.

Mike Flanagan never hid his passion and love for "The Shining", both the Kubrick and King versions, and it is for this reason he was the man behind the 2019 movie "Doctor Sleep"....

... an adaptation of Stephen King's sequel-novel to The Shining.

And fascinatingly, a lot of details and ideas of Flanagan's "The Haunting of Hill House" (or its sister-series, "The Haunting of Bly Manor") were reused for his Doctor Sleep movie...

But, speaking of Stephen King, did you know he made his own "The Haunting of Hill House"? Well, almost... He and Steven Spielberg worked on a project in the 1990s: a remake of The Haunting/a new movie adaptation of "The Haunting of Hill House". Unfortunately this movie never came to the light of day, as the two men split apart due to creative differences...

However this did not stop Stephen King from reusing the unused/unfinished script/concept for his "Haunting of Hill House" adaptation, throwing in a lot of elements from his own "The Shining", with several nods to the real-life Winchester Mansion, and tadaa! The result was 2002's mini-series "Rose-Red".

Stephen King has very often praised Jackson's novel. In fact, in his eyes it is one of the two greatest ghost stories of American literature... Alongside Henry James' The Turn of the Screw.

Do you recall Henry James? Sure you do! From the previous post... He wrote the "Ghostly Rental" story, that itself got adapted in 1999 into a horror movie called "The Haunting of Hell House" - confusing Jackson's "Hill House" with Matheson's "Hell House".

Do the links stop here? NOT AT ALL! Flanagan's "The Haunting of Hill House" was supposed to be the first season of an anthology series about ghost stories. This project got cancelled, but not before a sister-series to "The Haunting of Hill House" was made... a second season called "The Haunting of Bly Manor", which is a loose adaptation of "The Turn of the Screw".

AND THERE'S MORE! Because you see, before being re-adapted by Mike Flanagan, "The Turn of the Screw"'s most famous adaptation was a 1961 movie called "The Innocents". A movie which also became a classic of black-and-white haunted house horror movies, just like "The Haunting" that was released two years afterward... Film critics, cinema theoricians and movie enjoyers all agree that the two movies have to be compared, with something of a sibling relationship to each other.

"The Turn of the Screw" - and more specifically the 1961's "The Innocents" movie - also had a huge influence on one of the greatest Spanish moviemakers of the 21st century: Guillermo del Toro. In fact, it was to pay homage to both the classic of Gothic that was "The Innocents", and the behemoth of the traditional horror that was Kubrick's The Shining, that he decided to create his own Gothic horror movie... The wonderfully horrifying "Crimson Peak", released in 2015.

And not only does Crimson Peak unites The Turn of the Screw with The Shining (Guillermo also invoked the influence of other massive horror movies, such as The Omen or The Exorcist) - but this movie also is the final union, the ultimate blooming of Jackson and James' works. Because del Toro's original intention for this movie was to pay homage to the "two grand dames" of the haunted house movies... 1961's The Innocents, and 1963's The Haunting. The two ghostly tragedies finally united in one Gothic movie...

Well... To be fair, the uniting of "The Haunting of Hill House" and of "The Turn of the Screw" had already happened long before del Toro's Crimson Peak, but with a much less famous and successful movie: 1971's Let's Scare Jessica to Death... A cult piece (despite its lukewarm reception), it was created with only one goal in mind: recreating a psychological horror story with ambiguous implications, in the style of James' The Turn of the Screw, and Robert Wise's The Haunting.

(Think we're done? FOOL! Just you wait...)

[marzipanandminutiae]

so I'm reading The Turn of the Screw and uh

Quint sexually abused Miles, didn't he

it's hard to interpret this any other way. and I feel like assuming it Couldn't Possibly Be That would be a very naive view to take of the Victorians, and their ability to understand the world's horrors and to read between the lines

[ancestorsalive]

audreybenjaminsenart

‘She waited for us, not herself taking a step, and I was conscious of the rare solemnity with which we presently approached her.’

Interior illustration for The Turn of the Screw with @foliosociety now available

[flowerytale]

Henry James, from “The Turn of the Screw”

[faith-gigliorosa]

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Miles Fairchild (4/4)

Word count ; 4.5k

*Edited:3

I stirred, feeling warm as I pressed against Miles. I had never felt such strong, good emotions at the same time of such bad emotions. I felt somewhat guilty and regretful, but at the same time, it was the best night of my life. It was a rollercoaster. And now, waking up, that rollercoaster had finally come to a stop. I was completely winded, but in a pleasant way.

I nuzzled against his bare chest, eyes flitting upward to meet his peaceful, sleeping face. His hair was messier than usual, and some strands were stuck to his pale cheeks. His long eyelashes were shut firmly, and his lips looked dry from a good night’s rest. 

I sat up slightly, despite how tightly his arm was wound around my chest. My body felt cold as it separated from him, and I felt rather embarrassed from the state we were in, even if Miles looked adorable. If Mrs. Grose found out… 

Well, I shouldn’t think about it right now. I grabbed Miles arm and slid it off me so he was hugging his own waist instead. I sat up straight, holding the blanket to my bare chest. I gulped down the rising embarrassment, glancing around the bedroom. Strewn on the floor was our slightly damp clothes, and some dirt was trailing from the doorway. The bed was messier than usual and the lamp was still turned on, so I clicked it off.

I kicked my legs off the side of the bed, releasing a breath that was caught in my throat. My heart felt oddly tender, despite last night’s events. My gaze always returned to the sleeping boy, and I couldn’t help but think back to last night’s events.

“Calm down, Y/n! Just —"

“How fucking dare you tell me to calm down!” I shrieked, trying to push Miles away. He was holding my shoulders to the rocky shore, appearing to be very distressed. Despite his frail-seeming form, he was strong. He was straddling me to the ground while I flailed beneath him, gritting my teeth.

“It’s fine. Just breathe, Y/n. Please,” he pleaded, and I reluctantly sucked in my words. Miles had veins popping out of his lower arms, His chest was heaving and he did not look happy. “Listen, I know what it looks like. But everyone knows what that bastard did. He deserved it —!”

“That doesn’t mean you can let Mrs. Grose get away with it!” I retorted furiously, trying shove him away again. “We have to call the police —"

“Mrs. Grose didn’t do it,” he seethed, leering over me venomously. “She doesn’t have the pluck to do what’s necessary. I love you, Y/n. I relished the opportunity to strangle the life out of him. That asshole deserves to burn in hell.”

I fell silent, my knuckles growing paler from how hard I was clenching my fists. My mouth grew dry and it was like my worst nightmare had become true.

I always thought Peter Quint had made a run for it to avoid the cops. His disappearance was abrupt. And yet, everyone around me, minus Flora, acted like he deserved it. And I always found that odd, because he was a criminal. He didn’t deserve to get away.

It turns out that he didn’t. And Miles… had the hands and face of a murderer.

My mind went completely blank. I hated Quint with every fiber of my being because he hurt me and made me hate myself. And yet, he was a human being. I would’ve preferred he had just rotted in jail. And what would I do with Miles? I didn’t know what to feel —

Miles had inched closer to my face, and I could see the disparity in his eyes. Was I a bad person for still liking him? Was a murder really enough to convince me of him being a terrible person? I wanted so desperately to hate his guts, and yet I couldn’t. I was almost grateful for what he did.

“I love you, Y/n,” Miles whispered fervently. “Please… understand that.”

I gulped again, staring into his dark eyes. His grip on my shoulders loosened, and I propped myself up on my elbows slightly. My heart was beating erratically in my chest, but seemingly for a different reason now. Subconsciously, my tongue rolled over my bottom lip, causing the man to glance momentarily.

All of his anger dissolved, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. And just like that, he closed the gap, pressing his lips to mine. With one arm, I wrapped around his neck, and with the other, I pushed myself closer to him. One of his arms weaved around my waist and he pulled me into a sitting position, deepening the kiss. 

Miles suddenly pulled away, eyes half-lidded and prying for more. I couldn’t help but melt under his loving gaze. 

“We should get back home,” he stated, his voice hushed.

An unfamiliar feeling blossomed in my stomach and I found myself nodding, not breaking eye contact.

I blinked, just now noticing that Miles had turned on his side and was feeling beside him. His brows furrowed and his eyes finally fluttered open. He tugged on the blanket, forcing me to release a part of it. It made me feel a little more exposed, much to my shame. 

Miles finally flitted his eyes open, and a tired grin braced his lips. “Good morning, Y/n.”

“Good morning, Miles,” I tittered. “You might want to get yourself back into your own room. I mean, Mrs. Grose could come in any moment and chew my ear off —"

“Stop worrying about that old hag. I’m the boss around here. If she really bothers you that much, I’ll just fire her —"

Miles sat up instantly and wrapped himself behind me, arms tightly wound around my waist. He propped his head on my shoulder, his hair tickling my cheek. I couldn’t help but lean into him, although I made sure to keep a tight hold on the blanket.

“Jesus Christ, Miles, you can’t do that,” I exclaimed, nudging him with my shoulder. “Now, scram, Miles. As… lovely as this is, I have to get to work.”

Miles growled under his breath, pulling me back into his chest. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, peppering a few kisses across the nape of my neck. As much as I appreciated the affection, I also didn’t want our newfound… relationship… getting in the way of my job. Miles may see it differently because he was a spoiled and wealthy, but I still had to earn my keep for the sake of my sanity.

I finally detached his arms, letting the blanket fall, although I used my hands as a shield. I could feel Miles staring me down excitedly, but I tried to ignore that. I dashed over to the piles of strewn clothes and tossed all but Miles into my laundry basket before sifting through my dresser. I pulled out the maid outfit, hearing Miles roll back into bed, much to my chagrin. 

I looked myself over in the mirror, adjusting my outfit. I dolled myself up in the mirror, trying to clear my head. Mrs. Grose was an observant woman, so if even one behavior of mine was absent, and Miles was parading like a king, she’d know something was up. As much as she was like a mentor, she was much more a boss, and she could be terrifying when reprimanding me.

I finally exited the bathroom, seeing that Miles had fallen asleep again. I wanted to convince him to sleep in his own bed, but I knew that when the man made up his mind about something, there was no changing it. I could only hope that Mrs. Grose didn’t question his… unruly appearance if she so happened to check to wake him up.

When I was about to leave the room, I heard Miles mutter my name, and he rolled closer to the side. I withheld a worried sigh, stepping over to him. His thin hand reached out and grabbed my puffy skirt. I placed my hand on his, and he fluttered his gorgeous eyes at me.

“Are you really choosing to work, Y/n?”

“Seeing as this place would be a mess without me, yes,” I chuckled. “Just let me do your job, okay?”

Miles groaned loudly, grabbing my skirt tighter. “At least give me a kiss before you go. You’re my girlfriend.”

“Ah,” I hummed playfully. “Thanks for asking first.” 

I crouched down, and he finally released me, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. I stroked his cheek affectionately before giving him a quick kiss. He leaned into it expectantly, but let out a frustrated growl when I pulled away almost instantly. Smugly, I bid him one more good morning before rushing off for my morning chores.

~~~

“My only regret is not seeing you grow up.”

“The Fairchilds are your new family. They will take great care of you.”

“I love you and always will.”

Some days, my mom’s dying words from when I made my last visit to the hospital echoed in my head. I could still hear her voice when I needed it most. Even when her head was bald, her skin was frail and thin, and she could barely stay awake, her voice was light and positive. The cancer could never take that away from her.

So, I always rehearsed what she said on off days. But the past few weeks have been getting progressively worse. I had caught some sort of illness, and I dreaded the possibilities because I couldn’t help but think…

No. We only did it once.

Once again, I was rudely woken up by my twisting and turning stomach. I dashed over to the bathroom and threw the toilet seat up, retching violently. At first, nothing came out, but after a few minutes, out can chunks of last night’s dinner. It splattered against the side.

A few minutes of vomiting later, my stomach finally settled, although a dull ache still resided. I let out a quiet sob. All of the signs pointed to the inevitable, but I didn’t want to believe it.

My period was late. This was akin to morning sickness. I was constantly peeing and constantly tired. I could barely complete my daily chores like I used to.

Maybe it was the stomach flu, though. So thank god Mrs. Grose, with all of her suspicions, called a private doctor in to visit later this morning.

I heard my bedroom door open just as I rose to my wobbling feet and flushed the toilet. I assumed Miles had entered. He’d been waking up early and being more attentive ever since I caught this mysterious illness. He already brought up the idea of pregnancy. - and was oddly excited by the prospect - but I shot him down every time. It was possible, but not like, possible possible.

I rinsed my mouth out and did my morning routine. I used a hot towel for my stomach, tucking it neatly into my pajamas, before exiting the bathroom. Lo and behold, Miles was there, sitting at the edge of my bed with his legs crossed. He was in his usual morning attire, meaning loose pajama bottoms and no shirt. Usually he would be groggy, but it was like he was getting used to waking up at a decent time.

“Again?” he questioned with a quirked brow, eyeing my stomach.

I tensed, not meeting his intensely serious gaze. “It’s… just the stomach flu. There’s no way that happened.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his cheeks. “Yes way, actually. All it takes is one time —"

My nonexistent temper suddenly flared, and I clenched my fists. “Shut up, Miles! It’s not possible. I told you you should’ve pulled out, or at the very minimum gone to town and bought some meds for the aftermath, but you’re the one who said it would be fine!”

Miles had a prominent frown on his face now, and sent me a stern glower. “I don’t get why you’d be so against it, anyways. It’s not like there’s a money problem —"

Anxious shivers rolled down my spine and I rubbed my forehead. “God, you’re not making my morning any better. Just get out. I don’t want to see you. Leave me alone. I’m already stressed as it is —!”

Miles suddenly rose to his feet, just as irritated. His face had grown red and he took a few steps toward me. “You don’t have to be! It’s obvious what’s going on here. It doesn’t take a genius. Are you that scared of having a future with me?”

I had so many things I wanted to say. But I knew how stubborn he was. He wouldn’t get it. As much as I wanted to believe it was a stomach flu, he was right. It was obvious. But god, I wish it wasn’t. I wish, instead of letting my emotions control me, I had been rational and prevented the situation in the first place. In fact, I shouldn’t like Miles at all. He killed someone. A bad someone, who I preferred dead, but someone none the less.

His words were enough to make guilt-stricken tears roll down my cheeks. I was angry, sad, and all that good stuff that negativity preyed on. I was stupid. I became stupid the minute I came here with my mom. Something was always going to happen between me and Miles, but clearly, nothing should’ve.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I just don’t get what the problem is —"

“Out!” I shrieked, pointing at the door. “Get out, you psycho! Leave me alone!”

Miles was visibly taken aback by my fury, and I was grateful when he stepped down from the fight. With his tail between his legs and but a glower in his eyes, he stalked out of my bedroom. That left me alone to theorize and worry until the doctor arrived, because at the very least, I didn’t have as much work to do.

I plopped onto the bed, readjusting the hot towel. I massaged my stomach with the cloth, feeling somewhat soothed. I lay back on the bed just as the bedroom door opened again. Instantly, I assumed it would be Miles, but instead, in came Flora with a tiny plate of leftovers.

“Y/n! Mrs. Grose told me to bring you breakfast,” she greeted eagerly, an adorable smile plastered to her face.

I lifted some pillows to support my back as I sat up, smiling gratefully. The girl was so innocent and sweet. Like my own little sister. “Thank you, Flora. That’s very kind of you.”

Flora giggled, handing me the plate. As I took it, she hopped onto the bed next to me. She kicked her feet in the air, her puffy pink dress bouncing on her lap. She looked at me expectantly as I fiddled with the pieces of toast before shoving one into my mouth. It tasted like toast. It was perfectly fine, although I craved something else.

“Big brother says you’re having a baby,” Flora suddenly spoke up. “Are you really? How does it work?”

My mouth went dry and I stopped chewing. I cleared my throat, replying,” Well, maybe I am. And how it works… It takes two people that really love each other —"

“Wow! I always knew Miles was in love with you. That’s so-o-o romantic,” she giggled. “It’s just like the stories mom used to read to me!”

I strained a smile. The child knew absolutely nothing about what really was going on in the household, and it was better that way. I watched as she excitedly ran off, leaving me to my lonesome. I finished my meal before setting it on my bedside table. My stomach aches had left me once more, but I preferred to wait for the doctor in peace.

Just as I was dozing off, my bedroom door suddenly swung open loudly. I jumped, being met with an unfamiliar, posh man and Mrs. Grose, who was incredibly unhappy. Miles also entered, leaning against the wall. I sat on the edge of my bed, legs kicked off. Anxiety consumed me as the doctor pulled a seat over and opened his kit.

“So, Miss Y/n, care to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

I exchanged glances with Miles. He was smug. I was terrified. I gulped, though, answering, "Well, I’ve been feeling sick every morning. I feel really tired when I do too much. I threw up again just today.”

The doctor nodded, sending me a wary glance. He clasped his hands together in his lap. “Miss Y/n, have you been sexually active?”

My heart dropped. Of course that was the first answer to run to. Everyone thought it, but it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Mrs. Grose was staring at me with such intensity that I was about to melt there on the spot. And yet, I had to say it. I just had to.

“Well —"

“Yes!” Miles suddenly spoke up eagerly. “I’m - she - we’re dating. We’re, like, in love.”

Oh. Oh no, honey. That was the wrong thing to say. Mrs. Grose’s expression went completely blank, but when she returned to the real world, she was pissed. It was as clear as day. If not for mortal limitations, she would be ablaze on the spot from her anger. My knuckles grew pale as I stared at Miles incredulously, to which he just shrugged knowingly.

The doctor cleared his throat, sifting through the awkwardness. “Well, then, Miss Y/n. I think you know where this is going.” He began searching through his bag before pulling out a thin stick. “So, what you need to do is urinate on it and then ash it off for sanitation. The results will come in in a few minutes.”

In shame, I snatched it from him. I was completely in autopilot mode as I marched to the bathroom and did as he said. I was quick to rush out, though, not wanting to see the results. Surprisingly, Miles stole it from Mrs. Grose, who stole it from the doctor, who stole it from me. As long as I couldn’t see it, that was fine by me, though.

The passing moments were deafening. At some point, Miles clambered onto the bed beside me. Flora had also dipped into the bedroom, bugging Mrs. Grose about what was going on, although she was quickly shewed away. Miles was staring at the stick with such excitement and hope, and I almost felt bad for being so scared. After all, here he was, overjoyed at the prospect and rubbing my legs and arms while waiting for the result.

Miles eyes widened. “Hey. What does this mean? Is this the result? It’s just lines. Doctor, what does it mean?” he exclaimed, shoving the stick at the doctor.

The doctor took one glance. “Two lines means that you are pregnant, Miss Y/n. Mrs. Grose, I’m sure you’d like to talk about procedures and medical care outside —"

“Yes,” Mrs. Grose boomed, hardly containing her anger. “Let’s talk. Outside.” 

Mrs. Grose was gone in a flash, and so was the doctor. That left me and Miles. He was seemingly bursting at the sees with happiness, but I… I didn’t know what to feel. My hands found themselves palming at my stomach absentmindedly.

“Y/n,” Miles called, placing his hand on my knee. “This is perfect.”

I grabbed his warm hand, squeezing it without care of hurting him, He let out a tense grunt, rearranging his hand. He pulled it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it. My heart, which had seemingly stopped, began beating at his gentle affection. With blurry vision, I finally met his gaze. I furrowed my brows. 

He was staring at me with such unadulterated adoration. His eyes were not the one of violent teenager or a murderer. They were the eyes of Miles, a sweet man who had his faults, but still treated me like royalty.

“But…” I squeaked, my voice waiving with uncertainty, "I didn’t - I’m - we’re too young… I haven’t planned at all —"

“Shh,” he interrupted softly. “Y/n, I’ve dreamed of this happening my whole life. Life will be a breeze. We have the money, we have the love, we have the time —"

“I need to work. You need to work. Life isn’t this easy, Miles —"

“I know! I know it isn’t.. I’ll take over dad’s companies. It’s that simple. I’ll work from home and all that. Things’ll work out.”

I sighed, finally casting my gaze away. Miles was a stubborn guy. He always had been. And he looked so happy. I guess… I couldn’t really take it away from him. Things wouldn’t be that different anyways, would it? Just one extra kid running around the house and my relationship with Miles being far more intimate —

The bedroom door burst open, and in came Mrs. Grose. Her face was burning red and her fists were clenched. I didn’t even get the chance to mentally prepare myself as she slammed the door behind her.

“You terrible, terrible children! Miles, you are an adult with responsibilities who doesn’t have time for being irresponsible. And you, Y/n. I cannot stress my disappointment. You have lived in the Fairchild household rent free your entire life, and yet you still intend to shun your duties and use your boss for money! As far as I’m concerned, you’re done. Pack your things —"

“How fucking dare you!” Miles suddenly shrieked at the top of his lungs. He rose to his feet aggressively, stomping closer to the woman. He was red in the face with fury, and he was staring down at her. “Get it through your thick skull, old hag. I’m the adult here. I’m your boss. You have no right to insult her —"

“I do because I have dedicated my entire life to serving your family, Miles,” she retorted with just as much of a fiery passion. “You’re insulting me by bringing shame to the household. You two aren’t even married, and yet you’re to commit such heinous crimes!”

I could do nothing but clutch my belly in embarrassment. Mrs. Grose was right. It was irresponsible and there had to be consequences. I had fully prepared myself for her blowing up. But on the other side, Miles made it easy for things to be okay. He was my shield in all this. As violent and evil as he could be, he was angel to me, and that made all the difference in influencing my opinion of him. I trusted Miles.

“You’re the one that treats her like shit,” Miles growled, suddenly pushing Mrs. Grose, causing her to collide into the wall with a gasp. Worry washed over me, although it vanished when her glare washed over me. “You act like she’s not a part of the fucking family. Like she hasn’t been my fucking soulmate since she was brought here. Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, hag, because I’m your boss. I’m in control of this house.”

Mrs. Grose scowled, closing the distance. Despite how intimidating the man was, she refused to be pushed around any longer. She shoved his finger into his chest, meeting his enraged expression. “You’re nothing but a little boy. Stop disrespecting me and stop letting your little crush control you. If you started thinking clearly, you’d want the same as me. As to fire her and let her go —"

The old woman was mid sentence when Miles arm shot out, grabbing her throat. One hand was strangling her against the wall, and the other held her shoulder in place as she writhed against him, palming at his face and chest. Her face was quickly growing pale, and the realization of what he was doing dawned on me.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, but Miles was so concentrated he was deaf to it. I jumped to my feet, pain shooting through my stomach. I noticed the door creaking open slightly, but my focus was still on Miles. The woman was growing weak.

I grabbed the back of his shirt, tugging desperately. “Miles, stop, please! What would Flora think? Let her go!”

All of a sudden, he released her, and Mrs. Grose crumpled to her knees, clawing at her throat as she clawed for air. Miles gaze was stoney as he watched the woman. My entire body was shaking with fright, but mostly concern. The argument had been blown out of proportion, and out of the corner of my eye, I knew that Flora had witnessed the entire thing.

But that wasn’t important. I finally released his shirt, bowing my head in shame. Oh, what a terrible person I was for tolerating such behavior. For loving a man like him so. I stepped away just as Miles, still panting from the adrenaline, turned to face me exasperatedly.

“Y/n, I told you everything would be alright,” he cooed, grabbing my shoulders gently.

A few tears escaped and I trembled in his hold. Mrs. Grose made her escape, taking Flora with her. Good. I shook my head, hair falling in my face like a curtain. “No, Miles, it isn’t. You’re a bad person. You almost killed her. She had a right to be angry —"

“Not at you,” he seethed. “Never at you. At me? I couldn’t give a shit. But I have a family to protect. Our family —"

“Not anymore,” I boldly declared, although my voice was reluctant. “Mrs. Grose was right. I should leave. For my own safety. How long will it be before that anger is directed at me?”

His grip tightened, and I gasped, but he pulled me into his chest. My tears stained his shirt as one hand held my waist and the other pet my hair. He buried his head in the crook of my neck, his voice muffled as he spoke. “No, Y/n, I would never. I love you. Mrs. Grose is just a bitch —"

“She’s doing her job, Miles. It’s a shit situation and if you loved me, you’d let me leave. You terrify me. I don’t care if I love you. I’m not stupid —"

“You’re not stupid for loving me!” he insisted, holding me closer. Somehow, all my fear dissolved, but I just became afraid of myself for being so forgiving. “I would do anything for you, Y/n. I’m only like that to people who deserve it. We should all just… calm down.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He sighed, his breath tickling my neck. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. 

“I’ll fire her. She can easily be replaced. But you could never. Especially now. Things will be easy from now on. Things will be good. Trust me, Y/n. You know I love you and you love me. Okay?”

[helena-bottom-farter]

"The Turn of the Screw", 1974 dir. Dan Curtis

Thriller Video VHS, hosted by Elvira

[2008hondacivic]

From the get-go, when we pitched [Yellowjackets] we called it equal parts horror story, psychological thriller, Gothic fairy tale, and pitch-dark coming-of-age comedy.

Henry James’ 1909 preface to The Turn of The Screw / Yellowjackets 2.04 “Old Wounds” / Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland / Coraline

[natreads]

Perhaps it’s time to rewatch the TV show adaptations of these two

[nostalgicacademia]

“Of course I was under the spell, and the wonderful part is that, even at the time, I perfectly knew I was. But I gave myself up to it; it was an antidote to any pain, and I had more pains than one.”

― Henry James, The Turn of the Screw

Hi! I'm doing a new survey on Dark Academia for my university research on aesthetics, if you like it or know what it is I'd appreciate it if you could fill in the survey: https://forms.gle/xZRvM5pxF62bhDyn7 (Copy and paste the URL, otherwise it won't open)

Best regards and thanks in advance!   🖤  

[tygerland]

Deborah Kerr in The Innocents (1961).

[spookycathymorshaw]

Note :

You'll find a poll about earlier gothic works, another about 19th-ish century ones, one about 20th-ish century ones, one about Dickinson's poetry and one about Poe's works in my 'gothic lit' tag on this post. There's also a cat versus raven poll in my 'edgar allan poe' tag.

[marzipanandminutiae]

also I can't be as pissed off about this as I was about Haunting of Hill House because the title is different, but

once again, Mike Flanagan read a Gothic story and failed to catch the central point of it at all

a tale of children haunted by dark figures from their own past- one of whom was likely a sexual abuser -and a governess who goes off the rails trying to "protect" them in increasingly unhelpful and unstable ways is not at all the same as a nanny having a gay love story while haunted by the ghosts of [checks notes] her abusive ex-boyfriend and also some staff who had very little to do with the children

like

this man seems to only ever enjoy the window dressing of every work of Gothic lit he reads, because that's all that ever makes it into his "adaptations"

(also once again avoiding the super-obvious, ball-on-tee gay pairing, this time of The Governess + Mrs. Grose. it was right there, dude. why bring in a totally unrelated character to be the love interest? there's already this great claustrophobic sense of them being the only real companion figures in each other's world, feeding into a mutual sense of paranoia and panic. why throw that all out?)