#hauntedhotels

[otaviogilbert]

Is the Luxor really haunted | Traveling Kids

Have you heard of the haunted history of the Luxor hotel in Las Vegas? The Luxor Hotel and Casino, located in Las Vegas, is often associated with stories and rumors of hauntings. The hotel's unique design and historical connections have contributed to its reputation as a potentially haunted location

[f0restpunk]

@lasallehotel_ in Bryan, Tx. First night out in Bryan, Tx. last night for First Friday, scoping out haunted hotels and Art Deco architecture, visiting delicious panaderias and watching refajos drift by. . . . . . #lasallehotel #bryan #bryantx #bryantexas #hotel #hotels #hauntedhotels #artdeco #artdecoarchitecture #architecturehistory #hauntedtexas #firstfriday #architecture #architecturalphotography #texasphotography #signage #neonsigns #ouija #downtownelixirsandspiritscompany #darktourism #hauntedhistory #hauntedtravel #traveltexas #lastnight #jsimpson #ontheroad #letsgetlost #notallwhowanderarelost #adventure #visualdiary https://www.instagram.com/p/CnIS_4uPG49/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[its-dawns-blog-blog]

#loveneverfails #loverejoiceswiththetruth #frenchquarter #hauntedchurch #hauntedhotels #thepit (at New Orleans French Quarter) https://www.instagram.com/p/BQ25nHVgFjb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[hellhoundlily]

[nat-20s]

I also really agree with what you said about coming-of-age stories because I think it's easy to forget that a lot of people - especially queer people- don't necessarily have the same teenage experience that other kids do and often we're having our coming-of-age stories in our 20s and 30s. I spent most of my teens so self-conscious I wanted to fade out of existence when anyone so much as glanced at me, I was definitely in my 20s before I started really figuring anything out!

LITERALLLY LITERALLTY LITERALLY EXACTLY!!! YOU GET ME!! it really is buck wild how many recommended queer things are about teens and only teens im like. damn if we don't know who we are at 19 do we just fuckin die i guess? also teen romances i know a very few select number of people stay with their high school sweet hearts but god i can NOT get invested in romance between two 15 year olds i just cant. like okay sure THIS is the end all be all of your life just these four years. That's it. that's the only time anything interesting can happen to you i guess??. Also even being inundated with teen media i STILL haven't seen a single piece of teen media that was actually anything fucking like my teen years. Me gently taking showrunner's hands: it's okay to have a life after high school. High school was, imo, mostly boring and forgettable and sometimes kind of shitty. let's all move on bc i KNOW some of this teen media is absolutely not actually for teens. it is not to help them feel seen it's not to make them feel normal it's for showrunners to live out an exciting alternate version of their teen years. again that's not all teen media but it sure as shit is a lot of the stuff im getting recommended.

[mangor]

At 3AM, please ignore the children's laughter on the 2rd floor.

[uncommonincorrectquotes]

A: good morning, how are you today? B: I have welcomed jesus into my heart and so I am well today and every day B: ....okay then! B: is there something I can help you with? A: well Jesus can't help me with my fucking Iphone so I came here.

[mossysparkles]

Scenes from the Overlook Hotel bar in The Shining, before Jack Nicholson’s arrival. Created with Midjourney AI, captions & tags from Genie: Lloyd is waiting to serve you at The Shining's bar. But beware, you might not be the only guest there. #Lloyd #TheShining #hauntedbar #ghostbar #hauntedhotel #goldenlight #vintagebar #horrorfan #spookyvibes #bartenderlife #goldenlight #ghostlyencounters #spookybar #goldenlighting #ghosts #barlife #horror #horrormovies #vintagebar #goldenhued #nostalgia #shining #kubrick #stanleykubrick #overlookhotel #stephenking @stephenkingofficialpage (at The Overlook Hotel from the Shining) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqHA3bYO0Ep/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[velvet702]

😏 . . . . . . . . #photogenic #photography #circuscircuslasvegas #circus #lasvegas #vegasphotography #casino #hotel #hauntedhotel (at Circus Circus Las Vegas Hotel & Casino) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqA8R2Drxx8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[fla-paranormal-researcher]

#scary #Haunted #paranormal #hauntedhotel #theshanleyhotel #ghost #youtube

[theadventuresoftyrah]

This angle gives the Historic Copper Queen Hotel a new feel. She looks pretty good for being over 100 years old. #historic #bisbeearizona #hauntedhotel #playingtourist (at Copper Queen Hotel) https://www.instagram.com/p/CktzWgPvr4c/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[pygmy-puffle]

Hope @wearewatcher saw that Trisha's video from the Magnolia Hotel was debunked 😭

[veryace-ficrecs]

IT fix-it fanfic recs

as someone who reads a lot of fanfiction for media I have never seen, this is one of the juciest. (￣﹃￣)

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :) 

Richie Tozier’s Guide to Childhood Crushes, Poor Coping Mechanisms, and Bitch-Ass Clowns by soisserieux - Rated M

“Richie said it the b-b-best when we were here last,” Bill says.

Richie blinks. The house. The Neibolt house. It’s standing again. Right there. In front of him. And Bill… Bill said that already. He said that… yesterday. Before—

“Oh fuck. Oh no no no. No, there is no fucking way I’m doing this shit again. No no no no no. Fuck.”

caught up in circles by sloppybxtch - Rated T

He wondered what would happen if he just sat Bill down and made him listen. If he did what he did best and talked.

If he said: Hey Bill, I’m in a bit of a pickle because I’m actually from the future and I love Eddie so much it kills me, I love Eddie so much it hurts, I love Eddie so much that half the time I wanna puke and the other half I wanna cry but all the time I love him. In a big, dumb, gay sort of way, and I never stop. But I just saw Eddie die a thousand times and a Turtle from outer space (I think) sent me here to fix it and I need your help and I don’t know what to— “Richie? Eh-earth to Richie?” Bill had stopped walking, and was looking at him funny.

“Hearing you loud and clear, ground control,” said Richie without meaning to, again on autopilot. He couldn’t help himself. He never learned how. “I’ve just disengaged hyper-speed and I’ve got a beautiful view of Uranus.”

Bill looked at him for a moment, and then shook his head. Richie didn’t get a laugh, but he came close.

--

Or: Richie seeks cosmic help to save Eddie's life, and gets sent on a time-warp grand tour of his past in order to change his present

the word's been passed (this is our last chance) by quarterdeck - Rated E

“Uh, Spaghetti?” Richie waves a hand in front of his face, looking worried now. “Hello? Do you want to let me know whatever it was that was so important you had to drag me awake for it or -”

“I have a turtle in my pocket that speaks to me in my head and is possessed by Bruce Springsteen,” Eddie blurts out. “Also I think it may be God.”

Richie stares blankly at him.

“What,” he asks flatly, “the fuck.”

“Or a god, at least, I don’t know,” Eddie continues, “Either way, I think it was the one who brought me back to life, so. You know. The chances are very good.”

--

It's been forty years. Eddie Kaspbrak is just trying to make it out of the river.

Despite Your Destination by starclipped - Rated T

Eddie's smile is sweet, tinged with something bitter. Before Richie can frown, Eddie turns the other way and sighs.

"Richie to the rescue, huh." The way Eddie says it makes Richie wonder if he remembers how he brought him back to consciousness. If he does he's being oddly cavalier about it. Maybe it simply doesn't matter. Now that's a thought that makes his heart twinge. "Well, maybe it's my turn."

"Sure, Eds," Richie cautiously replies, not quite certain what they're talking about anymore. "Maybe it is."

[Or: Thirteen year old Eddie Kaspbrak gets caught in the Deadlights. Twenty-seven years later, forty year old Richie Tozier does too.]

As a Secret Loves by HauntedHotel - Rated G

It's Christmas Eve and Bev and Eddie can't sleep after having bad dreams - what better time to gossip about Eddie's feelings for Richie than the middle of the night when no one else is awake to overhear them...

“Y’okay Eddie?” she says, spread out across one side of Ben’s horseshoe-shaped sectional couch, her legs out in front of her and a rainbow of nail polish bottles on the coffee table. Eddie heads around the side of the couch and sits down by her feet; each toenail is painted a different bright, clashing color.

“I’m good,” he says, and then rolls his eyes at himself. “I mean, I’m not, obviously, because I’m awake at—” Eddie glances up at Ben’s weird, spiky metal clock hanging on the wall to his left, “— three in the morning.” He sighs, and scrubs a hand through his hair anxiously. “I had a bad dream. What about you? I’m assuming this isn’t just your standard nail painting time.”

“Same hat,” she says quietly, a slightly bitter twist to her smile. “I can go for a week without any nightmares at all and then all of a sudden – bam! – every shitty thing I saw in the deadlights all cut together in one greatest hits collection from hell.”

 single and ready to jingle by sleep_deprived - Rated T

“Hey, Eds. I’m single. You down to jingle?” Eddie knew he was joking. For the love of fuck, of course Eddie knew he was joking, but he was incredibly buzzed and so in love with his best friend that this time he couldn’t stop himself.

“I got a divorce.” Mike choked on the eggnog he had been drinking and the room grew scarily quiet as all eyes fell on Eddie. The smile on Richie’s face disappeared as he stared at him in disbelief.

“You what?”

[Or: Eddie says too much and has two life-altering conversations in Bill Denbrough's bathroom]

Go on, it'll be late soon by Mere_Mortifer - Rated T

And Richie’s in love, in love, in love, now that it’s all about to end more than ever. He spends the next three days thinking how easy it would have been to lean down and kiss Eddie’s bloodied mouth – because, to be fair, that doesn’t sound any worse a promise than slicing your hand on a broken bottle to swear that if, when, needed he’ll be back to do it all over again.

Or: five times Richie almost kisses Eddie and one time Eddie takes matters into his own hands.

same souls, both sides of the banks by trashedmouthtozier - Not Rated

He remembered growing up with five-foot-nothing, anxious Eddie Kaspbrak as his best friend; his partner in crime. He remembered the hideout, the broken arm, he remembered Eddie’s slowly gained confidence. He remembered the confusion bubbling in his chest watching all of this happen. He remembered it all — that’s why he was there, wasn’t it?

[alt. title: eddie lives and richie takes him to the kissing bridge]

the light that makes my darkness disappear by ShowMeAHero - Rated E

“‘I’m not doing shrooms with you in an airport bathroom, Richie,’” Richie echoes, in a fairly good impression of Eddie’s voice. “‘I’m not getting drunk in an airport bar, Richie,’ ‘Why the fuck did you drive here so early with me, Richie—’”

“Those are all valid,” Eddie snaps. He looks at the board again. Their flights are leaving within half an hour of each other, now. After a beat, he sighs. The thought of anything that might make it marginally more bearable to get on his airplane back to his miserable fucking life in New York is tempting. “Is there actually a bar here?”

the sidewalk angels echo hallelujah by ShowMeAHero - Rated E

Richie’s not sure what he expects when Eddie calls on the night of December 24th, but it’s certainly not for Eddie to immediately demand, “What are you doing for Christmas tomorrow?”

“Uh, hi,” Richie says pointedly.

“Dickhead,” Eddie replies.

Work Friends & Emergency Contacts by naminejamie - Rated G

Damon Peters worked hard to make Eddie Kaspbrak his best friend, and he doesn't intend to let the return of his childhood memories wipe him out. He also doesn't intend to let their coworkers talk shit behind Eddie's back while he's out recovering- it isn't Eddie's fault that he doesn't want to let any of them know him.

Richie Tozier Breaks the Internet (Multiple Times) by Grey_eyed_Birdie - Rated T

The events of IT Chapter Two and later as told by a group of Richie's confused theorizing fans. 

Together Alreddie by NeedsCaffeineRightNow - Rated T

When Mike calls them 27 years later, he's surprised to find that Richie and Eddie already remember each other. 

all i ever wanted is here by butiamhome - Rated G

“So obviously Derry was fucking batshit,” Eddie says.

Richie hums in an affirmative tone, determined to keep his mouth shut.

The rest all comes out to the signature rapid-fire Kaspbrak beat.

“I’m not good at talking about shit but I talked to Stan and he said a therapist was probably a good idea so I got one and I figured some things out and you wouldn’t talk to me and you didn’t answer your fucking phone, but you said – you said I could come visit anytime, before we all went home, and if you didn’t mean it you’re a real fucking asshole, because I’m here now and I didn’t really have anywhere else to go or stay because I’m, because,” He sighs and drags his left hand down his face, conscious of his scar, and Richie clocks something before his brain catches up, “Because I got divorced. Also, I’m gay.”

(Or: Eddie shows up on Richie's doorstep. You know the drill.)

[milkteamoon]

12 and jon for the ask game!

hauntedhotel asked: Jmart and 12 or 4, they both sound fun 😊

Thank you for the prompt!! This one is meant to take place directly after mag177 and is based on a very small inconsistency I noticed from something Martin says lol. Hope you enjoy!

Prompt: "What? I have never-" with jmart (ao3 link)

—

Jon waits until Basira is far enough away.

Not too far, not out of sight — just coasting over the horizon where she’ll be too focused on what’s ahead of her to pay attention to anything going on behind her. It helps that she’s already on a mission and has a gun. Jon thinks the gun should probably make him feel more at ease, but in reality, it ends up doing the exact opposite. He’s just not sure how good a hearty “Ceaseless Watcher” will do against metal and propellant, is the thing — not that he really thinks Basira would turn her weapon on him but...well. Hm.  

That’s not the point. The point is Jon is pulling at his braid and walking just slow enough for Martin to take notice, which is what he wants. Just him and Martin. Time doesn’t mean much in the grand hellscape that was maybe once Leeds, now a lifeless Extinction domain, but it feels like an eternity’s passed since their time alone in the safehouse. Should have ended the world sooner, Jon thinks morbidly; hard to feel Lonely when there’s the wailing screams of the damned for background noise.

“So,” Jon begins, even-timbre.

“So,” Martin says back, equally neutral. He looks over his shoulder at Jon, and his expression is...unreadable at best. Not cartoonishly affectionate or biting back anger, just curious. Like he’s waiting for Jon’s opening move. Like he’s assessing how much weight that “so” has as it hangs between them like a puff of smoke. God, Jon could go for a cigarette right now.

“Two weeks, huh?” Jon says, still pulling on his hair in an evenly-paced compulsion, until he recalls Martin saying that he always does that when he’s thinking too hard, and then Jon stops doing that. He pulls his hands away. He puts them to his sides, awkwardly, and then finds the opening to his jumper pocket instead.

Martin raises an eyebrow. “Two weeks?”

“Back with Helen,” Jon clarifies, “you mentioned being in the Distortion’s hallways for two weeks.”

Martin slows his pace. “That’s right,” he says, still in that ever cautious tone.

Jon chews his lip. Nods slowly. Huffs out a bland, humorless laugh as he takes in the domain around them — dreary and depressing, with the oil-slicked water lapping at his boots. There’s something that looks like a mangled, mutated bird pecking at a cardboard box to their left, but it pays them no mind as they pass. “See, that’s funny,” Jon finally says, “because I recall you saying it was a month.”

That makes Martin slow to a stop. “Really?” 

“Really.”

“Hm,” Martin says, positively neutral. “Perhaps you’re misremembering.”

Jon grits his teeth into a mockery of a smile. “No no, I’m quite certain I remember you saying a month. Actually, I believe it was part of a conversation that went something like ‘no Jon, I can’t go to the laundry, the hallway reminds me too much of the Distortion’s.’”

Martin winces, just barely, and Jon knows he’s caught him.

“Y’know, I don’t recall that.”

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” Jon says, raising his hands placatingly in the picture of innocence, “I just think it’s funny that—”

And then it hits him, or rather, hits them both as Martin’s eyes grow wide and Jon’s ears fill with the sonorous hum of static as the puzzle piece clicks in place. A drop through the door. Just enough for everything to swirl together into a semblance of understanding, and then Jon’s pointing an accusatory finger at Martin.

“Y-you just told me that so you wouldn’t have to do laundry!”

Martin’s mouth falls open as he scoffs out a befuddled sound. “W-what? I never—”

“Martin.”

“Would even consider doing something like that. I can’t believe you would even suggest—” 

“Martin.” 

“That I would do such a— What happened to not looking in my head?!”

Jon crosses his arms, unbudgingly.

For a second, Martin looks as if he’s going to continue his excuses. And then he chews his lip. Then shakes away whatever snappy reply brewing as he pivots back around on his heels, pointedly breaking eye contact. “You know what? No, we don’t have time for this conversation.”

“Oh, we don’t, do we?” 

“No, Jon, if you haven’t noticed, we’re kind of in the middle of an apocalypse.”

“Well,” Jon retorts, marching around to cut off Martin’s direct line of exit, “then at least answer this: how long were you actually in there?”

Martin stares at him for a long moment. Martin’s eyes are very brown and his nose is very cute. Martin’s glasses sit perched on the center of his face, the left lens cracked just slightly from their run-in with the slaughter domain, and Jon thinks about how cute he would find Martin if he wasn’t currently supposed to be mad at him. Which he is. Obviously. That’s why he’s looking so intently into Martin’s very brown eyes, until Martin looks away to the space between their feet. And then Martin mumbles something, just under his breath, just barricaded by the scowl he’s trying to make look very threatening that Jon only catches the tail end of it. Something containing a string of “fuck” and “honestly” and “two.” Or “two.” Or “to.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Two...”

“Two...?”

Martin’s shoulders slump with his sigh. “Like...maybe two hours?”

Distantly, Jon wonders what would happen if his eyes rolled out of his skull — if they’d simply grow back, or magically appear back in their sockets, or if that might just be the thing to finally sever him from the Eye’s connection. He only wonders this because he’s certain it’s a real possibility in this moment, given how much they widen at what tumbles out of Martin’s mouth.

“Martin!”

“What?!”

“I literally cannot believe you!” Jon exclaims, failing to find a suitable place to put his hands in his exasperation as they flail wildly about. “Y-y-you have literally been guilt tripping me into washing your bloody socks for the past month!”

“Okay, that is not fair,” Martin retorts, “it was a very — and yes, I’m going to say it — spooky hallway, and for the record, I never said that I wouldn’t wash them.”

Jon scoffs as he throws up his hands. Sure, the revelation isn’t the highest on the list of “horrible things that have happened to Jonathan Sims lately,” but it does feel like a kick to the gut. Martin’s right — as much as Jon hates the word, the hallway to the laundry was spooky, which makes the knowledge that he’d been heading down there twice as often as necessary that much more of a blow. Jon’s still circling himself, making punched-out noises of disbelief, when Martin winds up once more.

“A-and you know what?” he begins, marching closer to Jon for emphasis. “Since we’re having this conversation, why don’t we talk about you stealing my jumpers?”

“W-w-w-what?” Jon chokes out. “Stealing your— that’s—”

“Don’t you try to wiggle your way out of this one, Jonathan Sims. I found your stash under the dresser.”

Oh shit.

Jon opens his mouth to protest before opting for the more survival-savvy method of clamping his jaw shut.

Martin continues, “Yeah. Yeah! I found that, so don’t try to argue with me. You literally let me go around believing I was— was vanishing things on accident just so you could keep them for yourself!”

“Well you could have just asked—”

“You could have literally just asked me to borrow them!”

“See, this reaction here is exactly why I didn’t.”

“Jon, you—” Martin fights for some word against the tension between his teeth. Then he whirls around. Clenches his hands into fists. Lets out some frustrated, bitten off noise that sounds about the midway point between a scream and a groan and a growl. “You,” he says, pointedly not looking at Jon, “are being such a bellend right now.”

Jon barks out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I’m being the bellend, am I?”

“Yes, you rather are.”

“Well, you know what? You’re being an arsehole.”

“Prick.”

“Bastard.”

“Tosser.”

“Jerk.”

Martin stops his slew of insults as he gives Jon a baffled look. And then leaning in, he softly repeats, “Jerk?”

Jon blinks, brows scrunching up as he attempts to chisel through Martin’s unplaceable expression. “Um,” he says finally, uncertainly, “yes...?”

Martin looks at him for a long, silent moment. He chews his lip. And then his demeanor splits down the middle as he suddenly turns away and snorts. 

“Wh—” Jon chokes, bewildered. “Why are you laughing?!”

“Jerk, Jon? Seriously?” Martin doesn’t even try to hide his wicked smile as he laughs. “That’s the best you could do?”

“W-well, pardon me for not having a list of insults to call my boyfriend!”

Martin just laughs. And laughs, and laughs some more, until he’s wiping away his eyes under his glasses and panting to catch his breath. And then he settles himself. And then he holds out his hand.

“Okay,” he says firmly, smile still pulling at the edge of his very serious expression, “okay. Truce.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “...Truce?”

“I will do my own laundry, but no more stealing my jumpers.”

Jon looks at Martin’s hand. He looks up to Martin. He looks back at Martin’s hand, and then back up at Martin, and— god, fuck, how does Martin expect him to ever go against him when he’s looking at him like that? He can’t even blame the Eye for this shortfall of his — curse his lingering humanity for his undeniable weakness to his boyfriend.

Jon takes in a slow inhale through his nose. “Fine,” he says finally, rolling his shoulders back. “I won’t take your jumpers, but I’m not washing any more of your bloody socks.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Jon takes his hand and gives it a firm shake.

And that’s that. What’s done is done. Martin says something about catching back up to Basira before he turns back around and slogs his way through the swampy domain. Which just leaves Jon, standing in his wet, oil slicked boots, trying to find something to do with his hands. He finds the pocket in his — well, technically Martin’s, and he supposes soon to be Martin’s once again — jumper and slides them inside. He takes them out, after a moment and lets them hang by his side. Then he finds the hem and pulls on it. Then he finds his hair and pulls on that instead.

Jon chews his cheek pensively as he looks down at his jumper. Curse the man for having the best outerwear.

“Um, M-Martin!” Jon calls, finally snapping out of his stupor as he stumbles after his boyfriend. “What if we talked about this more—”

[malevolentmischief]

Chilling Motel Tales To Keep You Up at Night | Malevolent Mischief

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGgsfqNyyC0 Are you prepared for the most terrifying motel encounters that will leave you sleeping with the lights on? Get ready to indulge in the scariest and most unsettling tales of motel horror that will make you think twice before booking your next room. Unlock Exclusive Content! Get early access to our dark and twisted stories, enjoy ad-free videos, and receive monthly shout-outs. Check out our Patreon to join the community. ✨Patreon: https://ift.tt/jxuONis #RealHorrorStories #CreepyHotelStories #HauntedHotel #TrueHorrorStory #TrueCrimeStories #ScaryStories #CreepyRealStories #UnsolvedMysteries #TrueGhostExperiences #ScaryStrangerStories #CreepyStories #TeenageHorror #TrueCreepyStories #scaryrealstories #CreepyStories #InternetCults #OnlineMysteries #DarkWeb #CreepyPasta #UnsolvedCases #DigitalHorrors #InternetLegends #TrueCrimeCommunity #BizarreWebsites #CreepyInternetPosts #MysteriousDisappearance #OnlineAnomalies #TrueCrimeAddict #InternetDeepDives Timestamps: Intro: 0:00 Story 1: 0:20 Story 2: 4:53 Story 3: 18:31 © Malevolent Mischief via Malevolent Mischief https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCVxJEHnkpAzQsu1e87chHKA October 28, 2024 at 02:27AM