#stxries

            @stxries​

John Dutton never parted with an inch of his land in the all the time he’d had it. It had been his father’s wish that none of it ever leave the family name. But it wasn’t as though he sold the land to the Crains. He’d merely, bequeathed it upon verbal agreement so that the family of five, now six, would always have somewhere to call their home. After all, Evelyn and Olivia had been old friends, spanning decades, and when Evelyn died it was John’s job to take care of them as if they were his friends, his family.

Now the Crains were as good as Duttons. Not blood, but the family he’d chosen; they were the family he’d given to the rest of his family.

They were arriving today. It had been expressed to him by the husband and father, Hugh, that Olivia was very clearly going through some rehab and psychiatric therapies. She couldn’t be left alone for long with the kids. Which was fine. His kids were more adult for their ages, thanks to growing up in the west like this, on a ranch. And no one was ever really alone on this ranch, anyway.

Rip came around the side of the barn and broke him out of his reverie. “Sir! A car’s comin’ down the lane. Think they’re here, Mr. Dutton.”

A little Cara and little Kayce came barreling out of the house like it was on fire, keening at the top of their lungs about who was going to be the cowboy and who was going to be the Indian. “Hey now! Calm that down!” It had only been six months since Evelyn’s death and they were coping really well. But then, they had each other. He, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so hot. “We got the Crains comin’ t’day! They’re fam’ly an’ they’re gonna be stayin’ with us! Now shape up!” He barked the last bit and it caused Cara to turn into her trin brother and begin to cry on his chest.

“ No one ever told me that

                                    G R I E F

                                                 felt so like F e a r .”

                                                                        - C. S. Lewis

{{ an independent original character for the netflix original anthology series, the haunting of hill house. kelly nathaniel crain, the youngest of the now eight family members and the only crain to have not actually lived ( outside of his mother’s womb, anyway ) inside that house. an original character depiction as told by @silencexlayxsteadily and @stxries ( Morgan and Cara ). }}

he can feel the other’s gaze burning into his phantasmal flesh, heating his cheeks, boiling his insides. if she doesn’t stop fucking staring at him, he’s going to slit her throat. he grinds his jaw as subtly as he can, hoping he can just ignore her, that maybe she’ll go away, but she just keeps staring.  “take a picture, theresa caputo,” tate spits, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing over at her, something dark and angry in nearly black irises as his chest swells and his lips form a venomous smirk; when the young blonde man speaks again, it is undoubtedly a threat: “it’ll last longer.” 

The house had a body count, the house was dark and large, looming.  With the right work, it could be a family home, there was no denying it.  The disrepair lingered all over the home, and he’d given up on using the EMF reader.  It never stopped, the place was oppressive, pushing down on him, reminding him almost of hell, actually.

It wasn’t unusual to get bodies from neighboring towns. Greendale only had so many deaths after all, and she was very proud to say that she and Hilda had made a name for their remarkable mortuary services. What was odd, however, was receiving a pleading call to take a body, that they wouldn’t give the body anywhere else but with the Spellman’s. Very well, then. They would never turn down business. She had passed the phone along to Ambrose then to gather the information, but she lingered nearby with brows pinched in curiosity, and her hand held up to cradle her cigarette near her lips.

Olivia Crain, was the name belonging to the body brought to them. “Pity,” Zelda murmured to herself as she absentmindedly examined the body once it was brought to them. She had been a fairly beautiful woman, young too, but what was that saying? Only the beautiful die young? They had been informed of the cause of death, suicide by falling - Zelda tutted to herself - so all they needed to do was prepare the body for the funeral. She continued to examine the body, fingers grazing the marks along the head and pausing as she sensed... something. She knew all the energy that came from within her home, so this foreign sense she got must have been coming from the body. “What happened to you, Mrs. Crain?” She found herself inquiring the body, peering down at it with pinched brows.

@stxries​ asked : ❝ there are good days and hard days for me—even now. don’t let the hard days win. ❞ ( x )