#slight gothic

[notsocatholic]

i swear to god. i thought i was losing my mind. i could faintly hear someone speaking like they were standing right outside my walls. but every time i looked out no one was there. then i started hearing music. true fear is an ominous threat of darude’s sandstorm at 08:43 pm on a friday in september from an unknown origin. i swear the bass is in my floorboards. i can smell the sweat soaked towels being flung through the air. i am alone in my living room & my dog is sleeping soundly & i can hear an announcer from the void of the backyard telling me to “pump it up! let’s make some noise!” but they remain formless. nothing else is making a sound, not even the crickets.

my heart is thumping through my chest. i am pacing a circle into the carpet as i check each window. the street lamps dimly show an empty street, & none of my neighbors have any lights on. i begin to believe i have finally snapped, & sanity is crumbling through my fingers with all the grace of a slinky down the stairs.

until i remembered i live less than a mile from the local high school.

anyway go team & also the tubas are fucking it UP

[ereyies]

frankenfreaks come here get your dinner

forcing myself to learn anatomy just to draw him 💘🥰

[sea-owl]

Ah Gothic Featheringtons, how I have missed you! Now all I can imagine is poor Colin not only having to be wary of Felicity and her shotgun but also Prudence challenging him to a duel.

You know, the funny thing is that I hc that Colin is the best fencer among his family. It mainly comes from that one line in season 2 when Anthony tells Colin that Benedict honors him by not holding back. That leads me to believe Colin does hold back mainly because Anthony is a sore loser and is better at fencing than he shows.

So I like to imagine the first time Prudence does this to him he doesn't hold back mainly because she got him by surprise, and he doesn't think too. Prudence also doesn't care for the padding like these English men do. She'll full out duel in a full ballgown if they let her.

Prudence cheers at the revelation that Colin is good at fencing because, finally! A worthy challenger!

The other Featherington ladies just watch on as Colin and Prudence duel throughout the house.

Colin will lay against his wife later, trying to figure out Philippa is gonna pull out next. He knows about his wife's pension for writing and knives. He knows Portia gravitated towards poison and potions. Felicity prefers her shotgun and duel pistols. Prudence has her swordplay. But what about Philippa?

Penelope giggles, but let's her husband think, knowing full well Philippa gravitates towards creatures like insects and animals. He has yet to meet Kitty, their pet Jaguar, or Sir Snakespeare, their per python.

[endlessnightskyshoutsback]

oh to be an unsupervised kid left to roam the local forests and eventually, become friends with the eldritch being hiding in the distant shadows (it looks like a frog) (it has treats for u)

[ghoul-night]

[prairiedeath]

📸: @prairiedeath ~ story behind this shot in the tags.

[quiet-imps]

Oc pencil sketch. I drew the pose in therapy and I just kept adding detail. ⚔️

[orchidsflowergarden]

Made this on canva!

[gophergal]

Ohio Gothic Moodboard Based On My Hometown, #4: Winter Edition

[r1c4rd4]

0utf1t tw0

fun fact ppl r metalscreaming at me to make fun of me but i actually find it funny bc theyre right and they keep on getting better at metal screaming LOL

[pursuitseternal]

So many secrets…Everyone one is in “Disguise”

New chapter on “Beautiful Creature of Darkness:” my Phantom of the Opera/ Gothic literature inspired AU…

A masked festival, a heated moment beneath a curtain, hidden identities, confrontations between friends and enemies…

“True is false, who is who?”

Read the story

@mamanmae @iamstartraveller776 @eowyn7023 @rebelrebelwrites @jhalya

[sea-owl]

The Gothic Featheringtons have officially started to move to AO3. I'm gonna do it as a collection of one shots to make it easier on myself. I'll probably end up going through my stuff today to track down a few of the one shots on Tumblr today.

Here's the link: Link

When Violet came back to London from her year in mourning of her husband's untimely death, now in half-mourning with her family. She truly didn't expect what was waiting for her in the city.

Violet was taking a stroll with her three older daughters, her sons off ridding somewhere else in the park. Her youngest two in the stroller as she pushed them along. Her older boys were coming around into sight again when something dark flashed by the corner of Violet's eye.

Of all the curious things it was a black bonnet being taken with the wind. Running after that bonnet was a little red haired girl, possibly around Violet's Eloise's age, in a dark purple dress. Try as she might the bonnet was always just out of her reach. Then came one final push from the wind and the bonnet flew even further . . .right smack into Violet's third son's, Colin's, face.

Colin proceeded to fall from his horse right into the mud.

The little girl squeaked, darting forward and pulling out a silk handkerchief. "I'm sorry!"

Colin, being Violet's good natured son, only laughed as he sat up removing the bonnet from his face. "Well that wasn't well to do of me."

The little girl's cheeks turned red.

"Penelope!" Another voice called from the direction the little red head came from.

Two older girls, both with red haired as well, and Violet assumed Penelope's sisters, rushed forward to pull her up. Both of them also wore darker colored dresses such as a navy blue and one a dark silver. Coming up behind them had to be their mother. Her dress was the darkest of all in black with a shall tying a baby to her chest.

Violet had not seen anything like it before. She honestly could not fathom why a family in full mourning was walking out in Hyde Park like this.

After checking to make sure the two children were alright Violet turned her attention to the other mama. She hadn't seen her before, a new comer? It would explain why Violet was coming up blank on a name. But still the full mourning clothes were odd.

"Lady Portia Featherington," the woman introduced herself, a Spanish accent in her voice. "My," she pushed, her nose wrinkled up. "My . . .what is the word? Oh never mind. Mi familia, had just moved to London from . . . Espana . . .no, oh Spain!"

So Violet was right. The woman was new. Perhaps they haven't gotten new dresses yet to signal they're coming out of full mourning or coming out of mourning all together due to the move. "Lady Bridgerton," Violet introduced herself.

The two women began to walk together, Portia introducing her daughters, Prudence, Philippa, Penelope, and baby Felicity. Violet then introduced her own brood of eight. Penelope seemed to get along well with Eloise and Francesca. Philippa and Daphne quietly talked while Prudence seemed more content to watch over her sisters. Violet did notice that the girls' English was better than their mother's.

"Why move to London?" Violet asked Portia.

"Mi esposo. . ." Portia paused again. "Um, Lord Featherington?"

"Your husband," Violet offered.

Portia nodded. "My husband, he is English. We had to move back for his estate."

Violet nodded. "We just recently moved back ourselves from our country home."

"I am glad you did," Portia said. "It is nice to see someone who knows black and darker colors are happy colors. All this pastel is nauseating."

Violet paused. "Are you not in mourning?"

Portia blinked. "No we are not. Is that why the English are all dressed in such bright colors? You use dark colors for mourning? How sad."

The two families were now approaching Gosvenor Square. Violet saw servants moving items into the house across the square from her's. All the items were dark. Dark wood, jewel tones in the fabrics, and accents of silver instead of the gold most other families of the ton preferred.

"Ah this is my home," Portia smiled. "If you excuse us. I have to go write to Tia Madea. I have to let her know Penelope has already stolen breathe out of a boy. Oh if we're lucky she'll be another Tia Circe!"

With that Violet watched her new neighbor gather up her daughters and lead them to the house Violet would never thought one would decorate like that.

[unfurl-th]

i need a film adaption of the haunting of hill house that is perfect

[fist-of-vengeance]

i have realized that there is no limit to what i'd like to see from tomgreg fanfiction. there is no au or concept too strange. in fact, the weirder the better. enough sex, let me see them as pokemon trainers. i will unironically sit down and read a fnaf au if someone writes one.

i also think i'd like to see more violence and bloodshed maybe. tomgreg is hannibal for business majors, i need more fics taking that to full extent. the more dead bodies involved, the better.

succession in general has so much potential for violence. why aren't there more fics of these characters killing each other

[can-of-w0rmz]

Hey so “you can barely even speak english”, that’s racist. It’s racist to include it in your arguments. Go sort that out.

I’ve already clarified in a reblog of that post that I didn’t mean it in any kind of serious manner and just meant it as a lighthearted dig at their grammar. There also wasn’t really any particular indication from their account that the person I was arguing against didn’t speak English as their first language. Obviously it was just a lighthearted “what is this. This is illegible.” comment and didn’t have any remotely racist intentions behind it. Also even if I did mean it in that way, it wouldn’t even be accurate to call it racism anyway, it would be xenophobic. Don’t come into my inbox taking something I said completely out of context and running with it mate, what is this Twitter? 💀

But just on the off chance that it was misconstrued that way by a lot of people, no, obviously I do not care remotely if people can not speak English particularly well as their second language. I’m absolutely dogshite at languages so that would make me a pretty bloody massive hypocrite wouldn’t it? But aye yes I’m allowed to make a dig at someone’s shite illegible sentence structure without meaning “oh yes how dare you not be able to speak perfect English while I myself probably absolutely failed my GCSE French”, what do you take me for, a bloody royalist or something?