#dreamfeared

[tragicas]

hat is removed from his head and tucked beneath his arm , a sign of respect , not for the house but for those he knows inhabit it. he means the place no harm , doesn't want to be seen as a threat , for fear of what it might do to protect itself.  his plan was to return to gather some things , possessions that were left behind when he upended his children's lives and escorted them out of the house a few years back. most things were replaceable , but others weren't. he only wanted  a couple items of olivia's that he wanted to give to the children and some photographs. memories weren't easily bought.

when he pushes the door open he's met by a cold gust of air and he tenses his shoulders , preparing for a coming attack as he steps inside. he leaves his briefcase and hat by the door , taking in the sight of the large staircase that stretched out before him. the house had lost much of the glory he remembered , invaded by thick vines and all sorts of animals. jaw clenches , part of him is glad that it's slowly rotting away out here , but another part of him aches , wanting to return to the memories that took place there.

shaking himself free of the flashbacks , he hurries towards the stairs. hopefully he can get in and get out without drawing too much attention to himself.

@dreamfeared​

[magtitude]

change.

‘ you’re a different man. ’ @dreamfeared ( bc i still like that thing )

Steven hopes he’s dreaming, that this strangeness is only dream-strange and not his waking brain’s sputtering, not his mother. His mother had spoken so strangely here ( there ), and strange when in her final earthly days, and strange again after the House had turned her red. It doesn’t make sense here, when it should if he were dreaming.

“What do you mean?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows. The fabric of the bedspread is too real to not be real, and he knows he is awake now, and his heart thunders. Of course Mom wants them all to come home, still wanting to protect her babies from the world and it’s innumerable evils outside of the House. But Steve is home – with Leigh, reconciling and hoping and talking and baby-step-repairing as much as they could together. Home, where his remaining family can reach him and he can reach them.

But she doesn’t answer, instead sitting at the end of his bed like she’s about to tell him a story to help him sleep. Steven’s missed that, missed the all the parts he remembers of her and the sum of her and still does, and will for as long as he has memory.

Mom’s smile is very much her own, not one overlaid with House-puppetry or the infection of black mold. A shrug. “You’re different, now.” When she reaches for his hand, it is warm, like living blood flows through her, and he sits up to clasp her hand tightly. Just like Theo couldn’t drink Nellie back to life, Steven knows he can not love his mother back from the House, but he can still love her all the same. As if he’d ever stopped.

“Yeah.”

He thinks he knows what she means.

[witnessmarked]

8. the hug that comes after a bad dream

“It’s okay, Liv. You can come down now.” Hugh pulled her close against his chest, close enough to hear his pounding heart. One hand smoothed back her hair. 

“You won’t fall, I have you.” 

[witnessmarked]

💔

My muse finds yours unconscious in an alleyway.

"Liv?" Hugh's footsteps echoed off the walls of the alleyway. He was not a city person, had no idea how to navigate one but to circle the block. There were so many people, too, he got distracted at every turn, or confused.

She'd only been missing for a minute. He'd circled back around, tried to figure out where he'd lost her. It was a good thing the kids weren't here, good that they were safe with Janet while they scoped out the city. He certainly couldn't have handled all five of them in a place so big, loud.

But now it was silent but for his footfalls, the snoring of an old homeless man, the sound of traffic only distant. 

He spotted a shoe, slipped off from a stumbling foot, and then its owner slumped in a pile of garbage. One of her color storms, it had to be. He almost hoped that it was. 

"Olivia!" He picked her up, cradled her in his arms. "Wake up!"

[oncewarms]

❝ nothing’s gonna hurt you. ❞

you’re too old for this,      she inwardly scolded at herself;     curled up to her mothers side    &    almost trembling with the fear that she may very well be bid back to bed at any moment...      she was supposed to be growing up  after all.      steve spent his time helping---or what shirl knew to be his version of helping---their dad with the mold infested basement they weren’t even allowed to enter and she,      she merely felt worried about returning to slumber in her own room.      “ i know... ”      she breathed shakily,    her hands wrung inside one another.      she had to  at least pretend  like she had it all together.      that there was no way she could possibly be frightened.      shirley knew if she pretended long enough,      she just might start to believe it.      “ daddy said it was only the pipes. ”      IT WAS ONLY THE PIPES    /    SEPIP EHT YLNO SAW IT...     reiterated to serve as a reminder for herself.      “ but can’t i stay up just a bit longer? ”      a pleading set of eyes raised from hands to mothers eyes.      “ please... ”

meme      ,      caring sentence starters    /    accepting!

[aghostisawish-blog]

‘ you’re a different man. ’

shvt starters | accepting | @dreamfeared

Steven hopes he’s dreaming, that this strangeness is only dream-strange and not his waking brain’s sputtering, not his mother. His mother had spoken so strangely here ( there ), and strange when in her final earthly days, and strange again after the House had turned her red. It doesn’t make sense here, when it should if he were dreaming.

“What do you mean?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows. The fabric of the bedspread is too real to not be real, and he knows he is awake now, and his heart thunders. Of course Mom wants them all to come home, still wanting to protect her babies from the world and it’s innumerable evils outside of the House. But Steve is home – with Leigh, reconciling and hoping and talking and baby-step-repairing as much as they could together. Home, where his remaining family can reach him and he can reach them.

But she doesn’t answer, instead sitting at the end of his bed like she’s about to tell him a story to help him sleep. Steven’s missed that, missed the all the parts he remembers of her and the sum of her and still does, and will for as long as he has memory.

Mom’s smile is very much her own, not one overlaid with House-puppetry or the infection of black mold. A shrug. “You’re different, now.” When she reaches for his hand, it is warm, like living blood flows through her, and he sits up to clasp her hand tightly. Just like Theo couldn’t drink Nellie back to life, Steven knows he can not love his mother back from the House, but he can still love her all the same. As if he’d ever stopped.

“Yeah.”

He thinks he knows what she means.

[isconfetti-blog]

@dreamfeared liked for a starter.

Dad was out to the store. Luke and Nell were coloring downstairs, Theo in her room and he could vaguely hear the snaps of a camera going off, signaling Shirley somewhere down the hall. Everyone was off doing their own thing and just fine....except for...

“Are you okay?” came Steven’s soft tone of voice from the doorway, brows furrowed in worry as he stared at his mother on the bed. In the back of his head, he knew she wasn’t, a thought that quickly passed as he entered the room and hovered by the bedside. It was his Mother, of course she was okay. Except for times she wasn’t.