#The Haunting Of Hill House Imagine

[michelle-is-writing]

Christmas Love, Luke Crain

Word count: 1.4k~

When I sent Luke out to grab a few things before his siblings came over for Christmas in a few days, I didn't expect him to come home with a gingerbread house kit and only half of the groceries I sent him to get. According to him, he got “distracted” when looking for the reindeer themed sprinkles I wanted so the kids could decorate sugar cookies. When he came back with the box containing the gingerbread house in hand, I presumed he thought the house would be better for the kids, but I was wrong.

He got it for us.

"Hey, hunny," I attract his attention, taking a bag of white icing into my hand. He hums back a response, currently focused on gluing the piece of red and green candy onto the house's side with the other bag of frosting. "You do realize that this is an activity for kids, right?" I question him, "And we're fully-grown adults?"

Looking over at me, Luke smiles. "The age requirement was three-plus, so I thought we were old enough," He jokes, smirking as he continues decorating. He's so goofy sometimes.

"Yeah, I don't think you meet the age requirement up here," I joke back while tapping my skull, laughing as I feel one of the tiny candies Luke was using collide with my cheek. "Don't be mad!" I shout, watching him grin as he continues staring over at me from his seat.

"I could never be mad," He tells me, his voice all of a sudden softer as he sits back in his chair with the same smile. Sighing happily, Luke crosses his arms together against his chest as his eyes flash between me and the ongoing gingerbread house on the dining table in between us. "I'm actually quite... relieved."

"Relieved?" I ask him, now piping the gingerbread roof with frosting. "Such an odd word to use, but please, enlighten me on why you used it."

With another smile, Luke gently laughs before doing as I say. "When I was younger, every Christmas, my aunt Janet made all of us kids sit down and decorate a gingerbread house she had baked herself," Luke explains, "Usually, Nell and I would take up one side while Steve did the front, Shirl got the back, and Theo got the other side,"

"We always had fun," He added on, sighing afterward. "Soon, all of us got older, and it soon turned into me, Nell, Theo, and Shirl decorating the gingerbread house while Steve went out to be with a girl for Christmas. Then, it was just like this pattern followed all of my siblings,"

Pausing, Luke frowns. "Soon, Shirl wasn't home for Christmas, then Theo, and then..." Swallowing, he closes his eyes and shakes his head. At this point, I put down the piping bag as all of my focus is now placed on Luke and his words. "Then I wasn't home, and I was out of the house on Christmas, fucking up as usual."

"But you don't do things you used to do now, right?" I question him before he can launch himself into a world of sadness. Leaning over the table with a smile, I take his hands into mine before kissing each one. "You have fought so hard to not only try and fix your mistakes, but to be where you are, Luke, and that's all that matters," I remind him, watching as the smile slowly returns to his face. "Never forget I love you, we all love you."

Nodding, Luke takes a moment to process my words before bringing our hands up to his lips. "I love you too," He tells me, pressing a kiss to each of my hands as I had done with his moments ago. "Thank you for decorating this house with me," He tells me as I stand from my chair to walk over to his side and plop down in his lap. At this, he smiles and holds me tight before continuing. "it's just, I saw it and all I could think about was being a kid and doing it all over again."

"I had fun doing it with you," I assure him, leaning close to kiss his forehead as his hands fiddle with my oversized sweater. "You know I'd do anything for you."

"Anything?" He asks, leaning back to face me with a raised eyebrow. Staring down at his coy smile makes me squint my eyes as the corner of my lip quirks up. I know he's trying to be flirty, but he ends up just looking like a curious puppy.

"What do you want?" I ask him, gaining a laugh in return. The pleasant noise makes me grin, loving the fact that he's genuinely happy.

"There's a grocery bag somewhere in the kitchen with a tube of white sparkle icing," He informs me, "Do you think you could grab it for me so I can finish the snow? Please?"

After a few seconds of melodramatic silence, I dramatically throw myself out of Luke's lap before stomping toward the kitchen. "Fine!" I yell, smirking as Luke continues laughing behind me, still in his seat.

While in the kitchen, I search through every grocery bag, and somehow, I don't find the decorating gel anywhere. The closest thing I find is a jar of white sanding sprinkles that I asked Luke to get. Other than that, I don't see any other decorating item.

"Babe, I don't see the sparkle gel anywhere," I tell him, walking out of the kitchen as I stare down at the plastic jar of sprinkles in my hands. "All I found was the sprink..." My words are cut off a I look up from the sanding sugar and to the gingerbread house resting in the middle of the dining table.

Instead of the plain brown roof that Luke was supposed to decorate, I find it to have the words written out in frosting, "Will you marry me?" The only unusual thing is the 'O' in 'you' is replaced by a dazzling ring that's slightly embedded in the icing.

Standing beside the table is Luke, his arms behind his back as he bites his lip and lightly bounces on his toes, awaiting my answer. Awestruck, I move a hand up to my agape mouth while tears make their way to my eyes, crying out of happiness and complete shock. I don't waste another second of standing as I run to Luke and practically lunge at him, wrapping my arms around his neck as his wrap around my midsection, holding me tighter than ever before.

“Yes,” I mutter in his ear, holding my hand to his head as he leans down a bit to embrace me. “Yes, Luke, I’ll marry you,” I continue on, my voice growing hoarser with each word that passes through my lips thanks to my tears.

Pulling back in the hug, Luke reveals his face to be covered in happy tears as well, a grin takes over his mouth. "Oh, thank you," He practically sobs, moving his hands to the sides of my face as he pulls me in for a kiss. After a few seconds, he pulls away and reaches over to take the ring off of the gingerbread house, the bottom part covered in white icing.

At the sight, Luke and I both lightly laugh before I take the ring from him and swipe the frosting off, licking it off my finger afterward. I don’t miss the dazed expression that appears on Luke’s face for a second as he watches me do this, only making me smirk. "How'd you know I always wanted a frosting covered ring?" I quip, Luke taking the ring from my grasp and sliding it onto my ring finger with ease. The main jewel is a diamond, but the two around it are our birthstones, nearly causing my heart to skip a beat.

At my comment, Luke shakes his head with a small laugh before kissing me once again, his hands rising up to wipe away my fallen tears. "How in the hell did I get so lucky?" He asks, resting his forehead against mine as he encases my left hand in his over his heart, the new addition to one of the fingers pressing against his palm.

"I should be asking the same thing," I tell him, leaning in for another kiss as my eyes flash back to the dining table. I think the gingerbread house is going to become a tradition for us too, and this time, it'll stay forever.

[fangirl-writes]

Ghosts

Steven Crain x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): canon-level things: death, drinking, swearing, etc.

Notes: My yearly re-watch of this show reminded me that I'm in love with Steven Crain. So...have this.

Summary: You’re Steven’s wife, someone who, not dissimilar to his siblings, can feel the supernatural- sorry, the "preternatural". Turns out you’re about to feel a lot.

It’s the books on the shelf that make Steven grimace.

The entire collection of his books are sitting neatly on the top shelf, “Crain” staring at him in big letters on the spine.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you I was a fan,” Irene says.

He tries not to hold it against her, but the truth is that it’s hard.

He’s run into it before, a fan trying to slip their way into his books through made up stories or things they’ve convinced themselves they’ve seen.

Things he never has.

“That’s my favorite, the first one,” she says.

The Haunting of Hill House lies in Steven’s hands, the chapter book of family trauma that got his work off the ground.

“Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone at Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes at her perfect quotation.

“I can’t imagine what it was like living there,” she says, not catching the way his express has soured slightly. “The most famous haunted house in America.”

“In fairness,” he says, almost bitterly. “It wasn’t famous when we moved in.”

Memories long repressed peak towards the front of Steven’s mind, but more specifically that night…the last night.

So, he says, “besides, you’ve got me beat.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you actually saw your husband hanging upside down over your bed, you’ve seen more than I ever have. I’ve never seen a ghost.”

He slides Hill House back in its place on Irene’s shelf.

“But your books?” She questions, a wrinkle in her brow.

“Not in Arlington, Denvers, Alcatraz,” he gestures dismissively at the rest of the set. “On the Queen Mary or in Williamsburg. And not in Hill House.”

Irene seems taken aback by this, like someone had just told her her favorite love song was written by someone who’d never been in love.

“The way you write, I just assumed-“

“Other people’s stories,” Steve clarifies quickly. “People like you, Irene. I give them the right voice, that’s all.”

The creak of the front door opening distracts them from the conversation and you step through the door.

“Sorry!” You chirp. “It was open and I didn’t want to disturb the interview.”

“That’s all right,” Steven says. “We’re finished up with that part.”

You nod, walking over and handing him a folder that he thanks you for before sliding it into his bag.

“This must be your infamous wife,” Irene says.

“Oh, yes,” Steven replies, sliding his hands into his pants pockets as he stands back up. “Follows me to every house. Heck, she’s half my research team…I’m the other half.”

Irene chuckles politely and you smile at him.

“Y/N,” you say to her, offering a hand.

“Irene,” she replies, taking it lightly.

Your smile is soft but bright and Steve’s mood is brought back up by your mere presence.

“Well, I hope tonight is a game changer for you,” Irene says, directing her attention back to him.

“How so?”

“Maybe my Carl will finally give you a story of your own,” she says. “You were one of his favorite writers so maybe that’s the reason…for all this.”

You easily see the pessimism rising in your husband’s eyes as he turns his gaze to the ground and sighing before answering.

“You know, I can tell you one thing about Hill House that isn’t in the book.”

“Oh, yes, please,” Irene replies, eagerly moving forward to listen more intently.

You wander around the house, eyes scanning over everything, just as Steven had done minutes prior.

“All those years trying to understand what happened in that house, you know what I never found?”

Your fingers trace over a picture frame, Carl’s photo placed behind the glass.

“A reason.”

Setting the frame back down, you ask, “Irene, may I take a look at the bedroom before he gets set up?”

“Certainly,” she says.

“Thank you.”

Once you’ve made your way up the stairs and out of earshot, Irene speaks again.

“I have to ask,” she says, making Steven look up from his notebook. "Has she ever been to-"

“No.” He replies, harsher than he meant. “No…never that house.”

It's not that he's hiding anything from you, on the contrary, you probably knew more about it than anyone who'd read the book.

And while Steven doesn't believe in ghosts, he believes in you.

After growing up with siblings who are...open to certain things, he took you in stride.

You had a particular ability to know when a place has ghosts. Similar to Theo, you could feel it.

Steven wonders if it was one of the reasons you were drawn to each other in the first place. As if you could feel the ghosts from his past haunting him.

That's why he'd never take you to Hill House, even if you asked.

Because if it was as haunted as his family swears it is, he couldn't expose you to that. It would eat you alive.

"How are your brothers and sisters doing? I wondered since the book..." Irene asks.

His phone rings. It's Nell.

"You know who I wish would write a book? Your dad."

Slightly annoyed, he declines the call.

Upstairs, your eyebrows are furrowed.

You can feel a sort of tugging in your lower belly, like it's asking you to leave the house. To follow wherever the string wants to take you.

It's not Irene's house. It's something else.

“Anything?” Steven asks, making you jump. "Sorry."

You wave a hand. "Nothing…well, not nothing. I can feel the grief in the walls, the bones are aching."

“I’m using that,” he teases, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“I have no doubt. You get your best material from me.”

Steve smiles and kisses you, warmly, and for one moment everything slips away.

His family issues, his trauma never put to rest, the haunting in the back of his mind. It all fades into the background as he takes you in.

Then his phone rings.

It's Shirley, this time, apparently Nell had called her, too.

"I know you don't need me to tell you this, but literally everything is an emergency with Nell," Steven says, adjusting his equipment.

You're sitting on Irene's bed and frown at him.

He gives you a look that reads, 'come on, you know I'm right.'

You get up and leave the room, making Steven huff.

"I know," Shirley says on the other end. "But she sounded rough."

"Shirl-"

"Rougher than usual," Shirley protested. "She said it was about Luke."

"Call Luke."

"I did, straight to voicemail."

"All right, then he sold his phone for cash, or he's still in rehab. Which means we stay out of it."

"Okay-" he sighs. "I can't deal with this right now, I'm working."

"Yeah?" Shirley says, bitterly. "You working?"

Steven stands up. "That's right, Shirl. Something else you wanna add?"

"Fine." Shirley bites. "I'll just handle it shall I? That's why everybody dumps their shit on me, isn't it, Steve? Cause I'm the oldest, it's my job."

Steven looks down, getting increasingly annoyed.

"Oh. Wait. That's you."

"Fine," Steven replies. "I'll handle-"

The dial tone rings in his ear.

"Jesus."

"Tea?"

Steven turns to Irene in the doorway, she's holding two mugs full of, obviously, tea. You're just behind her with your own mug.

"Sure," Steven says, thankful to have the distraction.

"So," she starts. "Does this stuff capture the supernatural?"

"Here we go," you say with a smile, passing Irene to take up an arm chair in the corner.

Irene gives a confused and curious look.

"Don't believe in that word," Steven supplies. "Which side of the bed do you sleep on?"

Irene points to the left and he moves his equipment accordingly before continuing.

"Talking about the word itself, supernatural," he begins. "There's natural phenomena that we understand and then there's natural phenomena that we don't."

He pops the lens cap off his camera.

"Primitive humans used to die of fright during an eclipse, they had no idea what it was. The eye of an angry god, an evil spirit."

"A sign the world was ending," you add, smiling at Irene, who seems to be growing more and more weary as Steven's explanation went on.

"Nothing supernatural about it though," he continues. "Once we understood what it was, well, it was just natural."

Steven stands up, grabbing the mug and sitting himself next to his laptop on the bed. "I prefer preternatural. Natural phenomena that we don't quite understand, yet."

"Makes him sound pretentious, doesn't it?" You ask, smirking.

Steven sends you a playful glare and Irene laughs.

"So does it capture that?"

You tend to Irene after that, taking her into her kitchen to talk about Carl as Steve gets more of his equipment from the car.

You can see him just out of the window, talking to who you suspect to be Luke's rehab center.

And then that feeling it back, that tugging. It's so distracting that it's hard for you to focus on your conversation with Irene.

Thankfully, Steve comes back in the house as a momentary distraction, allowing the feeling to dissipate if only for a second.

You throw a quick, "Got everything?" to him and replies with a "yeah!"

"Sorry," you turn back to Irene. "What were you saying?"

She leaves to stay at a friend's not long after that, trusting you and Steve to watch over her house. And, even though she didn't mention anything, you made sure to let her know you'd be sleeping in her guest room.

You did another walk through afterwards, running your hands along her walls, taking in the pictures that were hung around, the magnets on the fridge, getting a feel for who Irene was, what remnants of Carl she kept around besides his picture.

Something that could be calling him back to the house.

You found some things; an old pocket watch on a shelf, a classic car catalog on the counter. Things that someone wouldn't remember to get rid of after their owner was gone.

A picture of Irene and Carl together almost brings tears to your eyes. You can't imagine losing Steven in any way, especially not in such a horrific way as Carl...or Olivia Crain.

Having a suddent need to hug your husband, you ascend the stairs towards Irene's room.

"I told you there's no reason you and I need to talk," Steven said. "You don't just get to call me and tell me what to do."

You frown. You can't hear the response from the other end, but it's not a friendly call.

"Dad," he says and you let out a small 'ah' to yourself. ' "I'm not-"

He stops and removes the phone from his face, scoffing. "Even home right now."

You stand in the doorway as he sets the phone to the side, contemplation on his face.

"Something about Nell again?" You ask, gently.

He turns to you with a small shrug. "You know Nell."

You nod. "I do. But if you're dad's calling too, on top of Shirley-"

"Nellie's just got something in her head is all," Steven assures. "My dad can go running to her side if he wants, but there's no reason for me to upend this trip because Nell is worried about Luke."

The animosity in his voice is clear.

Steven hadn't gotten along with his family in a while, his father even longer.

You'd barely met the man, though he'd been at every wedding, including yours. You supposed Steve liked it better that way.

No need for his crazy and your crazy to mix.

As if taking your silence as permission, Steven knelt down and began setting up his laptop for the night, the infrared camera showing everything as it usually would. Orange bed, blue wall.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," he said, walking over to you, taking one of your hands in his. "We'll check on her in the morning, okay?"

You sighed, brushing his hair out of his face. "Okay."

He kissed your forehead. "Let's both get some sleep. Maybe I'll see my first ghost tonight."

"Wouldn't that be something?"

Steven huffed a laugh. "Yeah, yeah it would."

You squeezed his hand. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He let your hand drag out of his as you left the room, missing you already. And then he went to lay down.

And woke up at 12:03 a.m. with a gasp, a choking feeling in his throat.

Something that woke you, a floor down, as well.

Bleary eyed, you peered into the darkness as it adjusted, not sure why you were suddenly conscious. And gasped.

In front of you was the dark silhouette of a woman...with a crooked neck.

Nellie immediately came to mind.

You'd spoken at length with her about the "bent-neck lady" that often haunted her.

The chill that ran up your spine making you understand the fear she'd carried for the figure all these years.

Then it was gone, as if in the blink of an eye, leaving an empty room before you.

And the honking of a horn to scare you straight out of bed. You put a hand to your chest and closed your eyes.

Okay, you didn't feel anything different. No presence above you (Carl) or in front of you (bent-neck lady), just the same as before, a house working through the grief of its inhabitant.

You opened your eyes to a knock on the door and Steven came in, "Hey. The horns wake you up?"

Knowing he wouldn't want to have the conversation now, you just nodded.

What Steve didn't know couldn't hurt him.

He sat down on the bed next to you. "It wasn't anything. There's a leak in her ceiling that's dripping water. And the cars outside, well, there must've been a stop sign removed. It was all a nightmare."

"Not to her," you whispered, laying back down.

Steven sighed, laying down next to you. "I know. But isn't this explanation more peaceful? Knowing it wasn't real?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes seeing things like that are how people work through their grief. Ask Theo about it."

He laughed at that. "Yeah, I'm sure Dr. Crain would be thrilled to teach me a lesson."

You shook you head at him, tugging on his arm when he tried to move. "Stay."

Obeying his wife, Steven laid back down and wrapped you in his arms.

Already, you felt safer. And so did he. Like when you were together it was a buffer to everything else.

Whether that was a good thing or not, well, you supposed would be answered with time.

As you suspected, Irene wasn't happy with Steve's explanation, but she understood what he was saying.

"Better than never seeing him again" really resonated and she told you as such when he was putting his equipment back in the car.

So, he signed her copy of Hill House and thanked her for her time.

The book haunted him as much as the house, it seemed. When he presented the manuscript to Shirley she'd responded with a less than polite "what the fuck, Steve."

The anger in that room had lasted for a whole week, not to mention Steve stewing on it himself for nearly that long after. He was never not going to publish it, but he'd be damned if he didn't know what it would cost him.

It effectively burned his relationship with Shirley, something that neither side had made an effort to rebuild.

"I'll write your story," Steven said to Irene. "It's a good story. I researched your house; did you know that it was used as a hospice briefly in the 60s?"

"I didn't," Irene replied, watching as Steven stood to put his coat on.

"I'd like to talk to you some more about your marriage, get some background on Carl. Who he was, who you both were. That's what matters really."

Irene looks at him with curious, almost sad eyes.

"I'll need to take some liberites," he continues. "I always do, but I promise to be respectful. He was a fan. I'll do it in a way he would've really liked."

That doesn't seem to be what Irene is concerned about, though. She says, "you really didn't see anything?"

He smiles at her sadly. He wishes he did. God, he wishes he did.

But instead, he says his goodbye, promises to call her about the interview later, and meets you outside in the car.

You'd been awfully quiet since the night before, noticably tired, like something was weighing on your mind.

"The grief in the house get to you?" Steven asks on the drive home.

"Made me think about how awful it must be," you reply. "To lose a loved one like that."

He catches the way you're talking about multiple things. The subtle hint to his mom. He admires the way you can dig into people like that, but that doesn't mean he likes it when you do it to him.

"You wanna try to call Nell?" He says, changing the subject.

You nod, pulling out your phone to press her contact and putting it on speaker.

It rings for a while and then goes to voicemail.

"Strange," you comment.

"No answer?" Steve asks.

"No. And usually she picks right up."

Steve reaches over and takes your hand. "I'm sure she's fine. You know how Nell is, she probably just missed your call and will be hitting you back any minute."

"I don't know," you mutter. "Something feels...off."

Before he got a chance to ask about that, a call from his publisher, Richard, came through.

He answered. "Hey!"

"See any ghosts?"

You almost laugh.

"I've got a title," Steve says instead. "The Leaking of Walker Roof."

"Anything useful?"

You tune the conversation out, staring at Nell's contact in your phone, wishing for it to ring.

And that tugging feeling was back, like someone was tugging on the invisible string again.

"You know what I could really sell, though?"

"Hanging up now."

You tune back in just to catch the last bit of conversation, Steve's nerves immediately on edge again.

"People wanna know where you guys are these days," Richard says.

"No way, Richard" Steve replies.

"None of your other sales ever topped Hill House," Richard says. "There's so much interest. I mean your dad, your siblings, what the hosue looks like today."

You couldn't help but wonder yourself. About the house, of course. You probably kept more up with Steven's siblings than he did.

"Eh, it looks like shit," Steve mumbles.

"It would sell," Richard says.

There's a silence.

It's so prevelant you begin to wonder if he's actually considering it.

"Not interested," he finally says.

"Just think about it? Please?"

Steven reluctantly agrees before hanging up, slotting you two back into silence for a moment.

"It's not that I don't want to," he says, suddenly. "It's just...that house. It tore my family apart. Then I tore it apart more when I published that book, I just- I can't. I can't do it again."

It's your turn to take his hand and squeeze it.

"I know," you say.

Your magic touch seems to help because he takes a deep breath and relaxes.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"For what?"

He shrugs. "Everything, I guess. That I'm so negative all the time. That I'm failing as a writer. That...that we can't have kids."

The last bit hits you.

You'd had the conversation a long time ago, before you got married, but it still was one of those things that you'd never been able to really talk about again without one of you feeling guilty or angry.

"Well, I forgive you for all those things. And I love you anyway."

By the time you guys get back to your house in L.A., it's dark and you are both tired.

You share the weight of the luggage and equipment and then freeze before you could get to the house.

Because there, standing guiltily on your front porch, was Luke.

He was holding an ipad and a camera.

"Hi Luke," Steven says, in an almost dejected, but not surprised, tone.

"Hi Steve," Luke replies. "Y/N."

You smile at him sadly. "Whatcha doing here, Luke?"

You'd only met Luke a handful of times. He was always in and out of trouble or rehab. He was one of the few siblings you hadn't been able to bond with...well, minus Shirley after the book.

"This isn't what it looks like," he says, tripping over his words and shivering.

"Are you cold?" Steve asks.

It's guilty. He knows it. But he's honest. "Yeah."

Steven sighs, setting down his share of the equipment. "I'll tell you what. I got, let's see...200 bucks here. You hand me that iPad and you can keep the cash and sell that old camera."

You don't like it. It feels like Steve's enabling him, but there's no alternative. He'd just run if you tried to take it, leave if you offered for him to stay. You'd been through it all with Luke.

Which is why the dejection and exhaustion is evident in Steve's voice. "I need the iPad. It stays here."

It's a fair bargain. One that Luke takes as he comes down the steps of your porch to stand eye-to-eye with his brother.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"I know," Steve replies.

They trade, the cash for the iPad.

"It really isn't what you think," Luke insists, eyes passing between you and Steven.

"Good."

And then he's gone.

He hands you the old camera, pockets the cash, and takes off down the street.

You and Steven watch him go.

"Believe him?" Steven asks.

"You know, somehow, I do," you reply.

"Good," he says again, picking the equipment back up and putting an arm around you. "Let's just get inside."

The door's already unlocked, Luke knew where you kept the spare key even when you moved it for the hundreth time, and Steven walks into the dark house first.

He moves to turn on a light and jumps, startled. "Thanks. I needed a good scare."

You’re frozen at the doorway, paralyzed with that sinking feeling.

“Steve,” you manage to choke out, but he doesn’t hear you; he’s engrossed in conversation with-

"Dad send you here?" You hear the clatter of him setting the bags on the floor. "I tried to tell him we weren't home. Did you bring Luke here?"

Your heart is pounding, the sound filling your ears.

"You just stood there and watched him loot me? Christ, Nell."

No. No, no, no, no, no. Not Nell. Please not Nell. You just tried to talk to her. Just that day.

"So, you hit up everybody, drag Luke out, make dad hop on a plane, make Y/N crazy with worry. Why didn't you answer your phone?"

Steven sighs at the lack of response.

"Fine." he says. "You got us all listening, what do you want? What's so damn important, Nell?"

His phone rings and your shaking, trying to move but it's like your having sleep paralysis standing up. You're frozen.

"Shit, I didn't give him the address," Steven says, answering the phone. "Hey, I tried to tell you we're-"

There's rough static on the other end and Steve's eyebrows furrow. "Dad? I can't hear you."

"Did you hear me? it's about Nell."

"I know, I just walked in and she's, uh-"

"Nell's running."

Steven huffs. "Shocking."

"She wasn't in L.A., she was at the house. She was at...the house."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed.

“She’s dead... She’s dead.”

The tears spill over your eyes before you even realized they'd been welling up.

You try to call Steven’s name again but you can’t even open your mouth before Nellie is screaming and you’re hitting the floor, the world going black.

The only sound that echoes through the house is Steven’s heavy breathing and his dad's voice echoing from his phone.

"Steve?...Steve?...Steve?"

[rootsmachine]

misty quigley // the haunting of hill house, shirley jackson

[lonelyslutavatar]

Had a dream where I read a fanfic (but it was more like watching a show) where Jon and Martin ended up in a peaceful pocket dimension where they have a choice to live out their lives there or exit through a door that takes them to their final destination which is the main world where all the Fears went. Martin wants to go through the door because he thinks they're obligated to at least soften the blow by keeping the entities at bay while Jon vehemently refuses because for once they're living in peace. Jon wins out and the rest were just them having a domestic life until Martin gets sick with the same sickness his mother had and dies early (the whole scene suspiciously resembles that opening scene from UP) and Jon finding out a little too late that it was The Lonely's absence that caused it and that Martin knew and never told Jon because he knew that would force him to finally enter through the Door just for his sake. So Jon, now an old man, decides it's time for him to fulfill his end of the deal and finish his journey through the dimensions and the last scene was him disappearing behind the door.

There was also B-side of the dream where I moved into a shared flat and there was a face-sucking demon. Otherwise everything was normal.

[mochasucculent]

Yea idk how I haven't shared them here yet but here's some doodles of Tabitha and "Apathy" (she ain't got a name yet), the two protags of my ghost story!

Grieving after the sudden loss of her grandmother, Apathy accidentally becomes bound to the spirit of Tabitha, a young girl who was murdered in the 1870s. Stuck together in unfamiliar circumstances, the two must discover how to send Tabitha on to the afterlife, and if they even can.

UPDATEEEEEEEEE Apathy's name is Naomi :)

[mervynbunter]

A genre I love: that which straddles/blurs the line between the paranormal and the naturalistic, leaving the horror perfectly ambiguous. Picnic at Hanging Rock (particularly the 2018 miniseries) does this very well; there are parts of Barkskins (2020) that do this; The Haunting of Hill House could have easily been this; I think this is why I love the first episode of The Terror; a touchstone is M. R. James’s short story “The Malice of Inanimate Objects”.

Are the misfortunes that befall the characters simply bad luck or an implacable inhuman ill intent that stalks them? Perhaps the cause was their hubris or ignorance; perhaps the reason cannot be discerned because the thing that stalks them is beyond understanding and therefore cannot be bargained with; perhaps there really is nothing but themselves, alone.

[skylermoyer]

WHY IS THERE SO FEW OF STEVEN CRAIN FANFICS?! Or am I looking wrong?? Like good stories or a fanfic book?

Where can I find please???

[hangsawoman]

knuckle tattoos that say HILL HOUS

[michelle-is-writing]

True love, Luke Crain

Word count: 1.2k

Every night, Luke and (Y/n) would fall asleep under warm covers with the sound of silence filling their room. Even though this night was no different, Luke found himself fast asleep until waking up with a sudden startle, his throat feeling as if a pair of hands were clenching it. The last time this had occurred was the night Nell had committed suicide. He could vividly remember shooting up in bed with his hand grasping his neck, gasping for air as soon as he opened his eyes.

Although, this time was different. This time, the feeling of being choked was not the only thing unusual as a simple click sound pushed the silence out of the room, this being the cause of him waking up. In the quick second that Luke had to register the noise, he knew the click was undeniably that of the handle on his childhood room's door.

Shooting up in bed, Luke throws his hands to his neck while panting in an attempt to get air to his lungs. However, the amount of air that does manage to enter his body is quickly stuck in his windpipe as his eyes instantly catch a familiar figure standing at the end of his bed. In his heart and soul, Luke knew that the tall stature and bowler's hat was undoubtedly that of the tall man that had been haunting him for years.

Fear rushing through every part of his body, Luke was quick to turn on his bedside lamp and let bright light infiltrate the room, only for the figure to disappear at a second's glance. Still gasping for air, he felt the adrenaline slowly flowing throughout his body just like the fear had moments ago. With the absence of the omniscient figure that had been standing just a mere six feet away from him, Luke released a sigh of relief before noticing the beautiful body lying next to him start to stir in her sleep.

Hoping that she wouldn't wake up in response to him, he guiltily watched as her eyes opened to reveal her beautiful (e/c) irises while her hands found their way to his arms, the warm touch of her skin causing him to practically shiver. "What are you doing up, Luke?" (y/n)'s soft, sleep-filled voice asked. Listening to her speak was like a godsend at this moment.

Even though he hated waking her up early in the morning, Luke still loved hearing her slightly raspy yet gentle voice showing that she had just woken from her slumber. It made his heart beat ten times faster than any other time - excluding that of the more private noises that left her lips on different occasions.

"N-no reason," Luke quickly answered his concerned girlfriend, the stutter in his voice practically giving him away along with his diminishing pants. Sliding back down into their shared bed, Luke had hopes of falling back asleep with no unwanted visitors this time. He was still frightened by what had just happened; that was obvious.

"I just... had a bad dream," He explained, his voice revealing that he was terrified. (Y/n) quickly noticed this as she leaned over him to wrap her arms around him and pull his now shaking body close to hers. He hadn't realized he was quivering in fear, but now that he did, he felt even more fearful of what it meant. After three years of absolutely nothing paranormal in his everyday life, why would he now be seeing the tall man in his own bedroom? To simply put it, he felt like he was going through withdrawal - something he hadn't experienced in several years.

"You saw him, didn't you?" His loving companion whispered to him. She didn't need to say his name for Luke to know who she was referring to, for he had confided in her many times before. What was surprising was that she always believed him and never questioned him. In a sense, (Y/n) truly knew how he felt despite never going through the experiences herself. He blamed it on the way he would tell the stories, but in (Y/n)'s heart, she knew it was much deeper than that. (Y/n) didn't exactly believe in soulmates; however, she did believe in true love - and what Luke and (Y/n) shared was precisely that.

Not trusting himself to speak again, he only shook his head with a small nod in response. Frowning, (Y/n) pushed her face into his neck, her soft locks of hair falling over Luke's neck. She then placed a leg over his hip and slowly began rocking the two of them back and forth, a ritual she did when Luke was particularly upset or sad about something.

"Count with me," She told the love of her life, knowing it had always been one of his methods on calming down. "One," She stated the first number, Luke quickly following after her beautiful voice. "Two," She said the next number, Luke doing the same thing he had done a few seconds earlier.

Finally, after counting to seven three times, Luke was able to calm down as much as he could by letting all the fear and tension in his body go. He had to keep reminding himself that the only way the tall man would be able to hurt him would be by letting him devour Luke's mind and body - and he certainly wasn't going to let him win.

As a kid, Luke would've never been able to persuade himself into thinking something so complex and true, but with the person he undeniably felt to be his soulmate, he felt as if he could take on anything that came his way. Whether it be fighting to quit his addiction to heroin or getting over the horrifying experience at hill house, (Y/n) was there for him. She didn't even have to say anything to him to try and comfort him; all she had to do was hold him in her arms and promise to never let him go.

With Luke now lying comfortably on his back, (Y/n) reached over and turned his lamp off before laying back down beside him. Luke didn't waste a single moment in wrapping his arms around her body and holding her close to him again, his arms wrapped around her waist with her arm gently laid across his bare chest and her head laying against the soft flesh of his shoulder. Kissing the skin there, (Y/n) stopped after a few seconds before lightly smiling up at her boyfriend. "It's just us in the room," She assures him, her hand sliding up to rest against his stubble-covered cheek. "Only us," She whispers the last part, leaning up a little to kiss his slightly smiling lips before lying back down in his embrace.

It wasn't long until (Y/n) was back asleep and lightly snoring in Luke's grasp, the sensation of her body warmth causing Luke to happily follow along shortly afterward. As he began to fall asleep, the harsh reminder of the evil ghost burrowed its way into his mind, only to be pushed away by that of the scent of (Y/n)'s hair. The truth was: no ghost could win over Luke's mind as it had already been filled with that of (Y/n)'s love.

[ghostfaceprincess]

I still don't know why tumblr put us as mutuals, but I am going to roll with it.

What your favorite scary movie?

ah, i grew up on the classics; so like House on Haunted Hill, Last Man on Earth, The Bat, Dracula, etc but i also love Scream, Terrifier 1&2, Jeepers Creepers 1&2, Halloween, Halloween (2018), Halloween Kills, and Halloween Ends to name a few, but i have a whole list in my get to know me thing!

yours?

[aspiringhexgirl]

"I've never been wanted anywhere" "all I want is to be cherished, and here I am talking gibberish with a selfish man." "you can't come home with me"

[woahjo]

“and those who walk there, walk together”

[cmbdragon98]

Who told Shirley Jackson to go So Off with The Haunting of Hill House?? Who told her to make me question the sanity and reality of the main character we follow, and whether the house was ever supernatural to begin with, or simply an eerie spectre, silently watching over its occupants, as they lost themselves to unease and delirium?

Anyway, I reread it itching about my lack of having The Crucible or Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf on hand. Man.... Man, at least I had this one to thumb through and finish again.

[tenitchyfingers]

Alright so I finally did finish watching the thing and.. yeah, it’s kinda rushed in the last episode. The last episode could have really benefited from being split in 2 and from the story breathing a little bit more, but overall? Holy shit. Holy shit. What a great fucking job @ everyone involved.

[ahsgotham]

somebody had requested a masterlist but i lost my draft as a response for it, so i’m gonna write it out here and hope they say it. these are my main interests and what characters i’ll write for, there are still tons of things not mentioned i’ll write for (such as, i’ll still write for ahs and gotham.)

i primarily write smut now, which is why i post on ao3 more, but i’ll still write sweet stuff, sad stuff, etc.

DEXTER

- dexter morgan

- debra morgan

- joey quinn

- angel batista

- rita bennett

- brian moser

- miguel prado

- travis marshall

- oliver saxon

PENNY DREADFUL

- ethan chandler

- vanessa ives

- sir malcolm murray

- dorian gray

- victor frankenstein

- brona croft

i’ve only seen up to the end of s1 so far, but i will write for dracula and jekyll in the future <3

PREACHER

- jesse custer

- tulip o’hare

- proinsias cassidy

- eccarius

- jesus

AMERICAN GODS

- shadow moon

- laura moon

- mad sweeney

- bilquis

- mr world

- tech boy

- mr wednesday

STAR WARS

- originals (han solo, luke skywalker, leia organa, boba fett, lando calrissian, darth vader)

- prequels (anakin skywalker, obi-wan kenobi, padmé amidala, bail organa)

- sequels (finn, poe dameron, general hux, rey skywalker, han solo, d.j.)

- stand-alones (cassian andor, bodhi rook, han solo, lando calrissian)

- shows (din djarin, cobb vanth, cassian andor, syril karn, obi-wan kenobi)

HORROR

for these ones there’s too many characters i’d write for to list off, so just request someone and see if i’ll write them. if not i’ll tell you.

- the scream films

- the final destination films

- the evil dead films/ash vs evil dead

- interview with the vampire (1994/2022)

- fright night (2011)

- twin peaks

- the mike flanagan-verse

HBO SHOWS

same deal as horror, rq someone and i’ll let you know

- true blood

- boardwalk empire

- six feet under

- the righteous gemstones

- band of brothers

- the sopranos

- succession

- veep

- true detective (only seen s1 so far)

MISCELLANEOUS

- anything i’ve written for previously

- sons of anarchy

- the magic mike films

- you (tv show)

- the top gun films

- scoot mcnairy characters

- mozart in the jungle

- ray donovan

- workaholics

i’m sure i’m forgetting some things, but here you go !! <3 rq and i’ll get to it. some things i might post on my ao3, ianmckinley.

[erensbich]

my toxic trait is to picture any male character in the book i’m reading as pedro pascal