you and i both know that the ghost is me

am i walking toward something i should be running away from ?

[buriedgraves]

#BURIEDGRAVES   I AM ALIVE  affiliated original characters BECK BURRY, SABINE GRAVES and SLYVIA GRAVES,  written by kaeli. she/they 21+. affiliated to @diggsgraves, @silasgraves, @sloanegraves, @slashaer, @heroanti, and @ephemaera. follows from @herencias  IF ALIVE MEANS TO BE A MOTH CAUGHT IN THE HANDS OF SOME CHILDISH GRIEF

explorations in ; trying to stand out, drowning in your depression, harnessing your anger, not knowing how to let people in, picking every battle and finding your place in a family. 

[diggsgraves]

                                  𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐨. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐮𝐬.

being the child of divorce was freaking weird. no, scratch that. that would require sevyn's parents to be divorced. they weren't. technically, they were like, legally separated or whatever. was it even a legal one? they were separated. and that was probably for the better. the only thing they had in common was a child, and sevyn didn't know what they ever saw in each other. they were in love once, or something close to it. sevyn remembered seeing them laugh together a lot when she was younger. he was one of the only people that could make scarlet laugh. she didn't laugh anymore.

sevyn was over eighteen now, and they never had any type of custody agreement anyway, so it was always a surprise when she got to see her dad. everyone always said her mom was married to her job, but her dad was too. she was always at the restaurant and he was always at the garage. except when he wasn't. like now when he was sprawled out with one arm stretched over the back of the couch. sevyn leaned over to grab another slice of pizza, taking a bite before dropping it on a paper plate. "you know," she started up conversation again, pointing a marker toward @buriedgraves . "mom's going to kill you if she finds out you're feeding me cheap, greasy pizza," she told him, biting the cap off the marker so she could pick up where she left off coloring in one of his tattoos.

[buriedgraves]

THIS WASN’T HOW BECK HAD ENVISIONED HIS LIFE. he had never imagined a world where he would live separately from his wife and daughter. not that they were exactly married, although beck didn’t like to reference them as separated either. it was curious how when you’re tied up in so much history with someone how difficult it was to sever ties. some days he couldn’t tell if that’s what they actually wanted anyway. he tried to push that away and focus on being a good dad. a better dad than the kind he had experienced. any time that he got to spend with sevyn was precious to him. even though he was often stuck at the garage he tried to steal any moment he could. stopping by to drop off pizza, staying to watch a tv show, anything to acheive a sort of normalcy. 

beck slumped down onto the couch. he reached down his own slice of pizza and took a bite. there’s a big wolfish grin on his features. “if i don’t feed you crap how are we gonna build up your immune system? what if you encounter a two-dollar pizza in the wild and you have no resistance?” his left arm was held out as sevyn as an offering. "plus what's one more thing for you mom to be pissed at me about. she probably wouldn't like you knowing this but she used to be a big fan of stuff like this."

[sapphicaffeine]

Human Capital (2019)

[buriedgraves]

sloanegraves​:

   “so,” sloane echoes, brows lifted, expression pleasant. she can feel the way each vertebrae in her spine stacks upon itself, can measure every bit of tension in her jaw. things are the hardest with sabine. growing up, sloane had always wanted to be like her–– favored her spirit, her passion, her fire. sab never seemed to like that. sloane hadn’t understood it. hell, she still doesn’t understand it, not entirely. logically, it can make sense, sure–– but she’s never been able to rectify all her feelings about it.

      but all that doesn’t matter right now. she’ll be damned if she lets anyone see how it hurts her; the way they’re at arms length from each other sometimes. sabine, helpfully, and perhaps without knowing it, steers her back on track. the firm is always something to smile about. “it is,” she says, a slight sense of calm starting to wash back over her with the reminder that she has built something truly good, truly successful. but sloane’s not smug, really–– not right now, anyway. maybe with anyone else but sabine, she would be. but when it comes to her family, the firm is like a strong hand at her back. sloane has trained herself not to need that stability in most areas of her life, but when it comes to her siblings, their mom, their dad… she’s always teetering on her heels, searching everywhere for solid ground and never finding it. no matter what she does, she’s five years old wondering why all the other kids have normal lives.

      but sabine makes her laugh–– really laugh, and she feels herself standing upright again. this is good. they’re not fighting, there’s nothing to smooth over. not yet, anyway. this part is easier. “no, i’ve been pretty boring on that front, i guess,” she says, overacting a wince. “haven’t let anyone stick around long enough to think about marriage. but once i’m ready to fuck that all up, you’ll absolutely be my first call.”

sisters should know how to talk to one another. sabine always saw the ways that siblings seemed to know each other in television and movies. there’s a small ache that she refused to acknowledge. one that wished that things weren’t so hard between them all. that she could squash the sense of jealousy that washed over her when she realized that sloane was like a second shadow. that a good natured, television sister, would have been charmed by this knowledge. and all she could do was drive the wedge deeper between them. it couldn’t bother her if she wasn’t there to deal with it. 

sloane is good at masking her feelings, but sabine can tell. she knows how they both feel about it, even without it being said. she has always known when someone is lying to her. it was a blessing and curse. sabine thought she had gotten over how it stung, but no, she had just gotten used to the ache. most days she barely noticed it. pushing it down, down, down, because now wasn’t the time to deal with it. somedays she wondered if her siblings even liked her. if they wanted to spend time together. or, in sloane’s case, if they had known what sabine had tried to keep her from knowing. keep her from seeing. the graves family had a lot of skeletons in their closet that they weren’t so good at hiding. 

she watches sloane laugh before joining in as well. “you’ve got to shake it up for me. scar or si are going to be on their second marriages before we even get around to your first. or mine matter.” sabine smiles. “i mean if you want to pay full price to someone else you can be my guess, but it would hurt my pride.” a wide grin as she leaned back in her chair. “and i’ve gotten everybody a pretty good split.”

[prairienina]

You don’t tell me things, Joel.

[silasgraves]

it's a good day. silas can tell because the curtains are open, and the record player is on. just as was in his childhood, him and his siblings always knew their mother was having a better day when music was playing, loud through the entirety of the house. on those days, sylvia moved around, sometimes even danced with them. music meant that they were making cookies, or helping her paint, or listening to her vibrantly tell a story about her and their father. music was good. this sentiment is what made it impossible for silas not to have noise while he was writing, or really any time, at all. sound meant good ; silence meant bad. so he had caught her on a music on, curtains open kind of day ; silas supposed he should be happy about that.

' they make medicine for that very reason, ' silas tries ( he would know - he seemed to inherit the pollen allergy gene, and it was already effecting him, too ), hand on the back of her chair as he glances over the spread on the table. it's all of his favorites, something to be expected by now. if nothing else was consistent in silas's life, at least he had the strange traditions him and his mother shared on the anniversary of her husband's death. when silas finally moves, he sits down in the chair next to her, helping himself to the chicken tikka masala and rice first, placing a napkin over one knee before looking over to his mother again. he doesn't want to push. pushing could well take a good day and turn it into a bad one, but a walk would do her some good. or even a car ride. he could take her anywhere she wanted ( silas is sober enough to do it, this time ). ' so no letters, no paintings. might as well spend your time doing something else, today, ' he takes a bite and swallows. ' let me take you to slater's bakery. in town, ' silas is eyeing his mother for a reaction. ' you used to love their scones, remember? i'll buy you one with my copious amounts of writing money, ' it's a dry joke, but he hopes it'll least get a smile.

[buriedgraves]

it took everything in her to get out of bed. even on the days that it was easier. slyvia had to convince herself that today was going to be different than the rest. a visitor helped to put that in perspective. since the kids had moved out of the house she found that she lost count of the bad days. there was no one to disappoint with them except for herself. but today she had ordered the right food. she put on the music and danced with herself. she cleaned up the house and for the first time in months there was light.

sylvia shook her head," never seems to work, makes me drowsy." which would defeat what he was suggesting. as they grew older her children always seemed to think that they could parent her, and be a step ahead, but she could see it plainly. sylvia scooped some rich onto her plate and grabbed mixed it around with the tikka masala. she took a bite before shrugging her shoulders. "maybe looking forward to seeing my son, that's enough isn't it?" there is a smile that spread across her features. "i always did love those little scones. especially the lemon ones, they were so flaky." sylvia relished in the memory before shaking her head. "i'm not sure about going today."

"i'm proud of you and your writing money honey." it was a big accomplishment, all of her children seemed to be on a better path. one that didn't mirror her own. "i want to, it's just i'm not sure i'm ready, to go that far away from the house - but before you say anything, it's getting better. i'm seeing a therapist and we're working through it, bit by bit."

[sacreddear]

the haunting of hill house | book quote starters feel free to change pronouns as preferred. warnings for mentions death.

am i walking toward something i should be running away from?

fear is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. we yield to it or we fight it, but we cannot meet it halfway.

no one would ever find me there.

all i could think of when i got a look at the place from the outside was what fun it would be to stand out there and watch it burn down.

i have told lies and made a fool of myself.

why do people want to talk to each other? i mean, what are the things people always want to find out about other people?

don’t let me know too surely what he thinks of me. 

people are always so anxious to get things out into the open where they can put a name to them, even a meaningless name, so long as it has something of a scientific ring.

if any of you has trouble sleeping, i will read aloud to you.

i clear breakfast at ten o'clock. i set on lunch at one. dinner i set on at six. it’s ten o'clock.

how do you gentlemen like living in a haunted house?

it gives me an excuse to have a drink in the middle of the night.

nothing upsets me more than being hungry; i snarl and snap and burst into tears.

i am a kind of stray cat, aren’t i?

i do not understand words and will not accept them in trade for my feelings.

i think we are only afraid of ourselves.

she loves beautiful things and i would go with her to find them.

we could go anywhere we pleased, to the edge of the world if we liked, and come back when we wanted to.

i never expected to find you all so nervous.

no one can catch me now; they don’t even know which way i’m going.

it is really unbelievably difficult to get accurate information about a haunted house.

it’s quite a hazard, quite a hazard indeed, people knocking you down.

losing my temper will not help.

i wonder how long she is going to stay?

and how long will you be able to stay?

all i want is to be cherished, and here i am talking gibberish with a selfish man.

first she stole her sister’s lover, and then she tried to steal her sister’s dishes.

i swear i saw bats in the woodwork.

people like answering questions about themselves, what an odd pleasure it is.

people have to live and die somewhere, after all.

what will you give me to remember you by?

you are not going to catch me so cheaply.

i have a suitcase full of mystery stories.

[junebugjules]

 when sylvia plath wrote “the silence depressed me. it wasn’t the silence of silence. it was my own silence.” and when anne carson wrote “why does tragedy exist? because you are full of rage. why are you full of rage? because you are full of grief.” and when jenny slate wrote “and i am getting older but i am not growing up and my heart is getting soft dark spots on it like a fruit that has gone bad.” and when virginia woolf wrote “to want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain.” and when susanna kaysen wrote “when you’re sad, you need to hear your sorrow structured into sound.” and when margaret atwood wrote “already my childhood seemed far away – a remote age, faded and bittersweet, like dried flowers. did i regret its loss, did i want it back? i didn’t think so…” and when gillian flynn wrote “i was not a lovable child, and i’d grown into a deeply unlovable adult.”

[rosemcvrs-blog]

Hello, My Name Is Doris (2015) dir. Michael Showalter

[suprnovas-moved-deactivated2020]

𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒  𝐎𝐔𝐓  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒.    🔪

spoiler  free  dialogue  from  rian  johnson’s  2019  murder  mystery,  KNIVES  OUT.   feel  free  to  change  pronouns  or  edit  as  found  necessary  !

❝  i  suspect  foul  play.  ❞

❝  how  about  a  glass  of  milk  ?  ❞

❝  maybe  he  left  you  a  cold  glass  of  milk  in  his  will,   asshole.  ❞

❝  you’re  not  getting  bailed  out,   not  this  time.   ❞

❝  who  is  that  guy  ?  ❞

❝  i  read  a  tweet  about  a  new  yorker  article  about  you.  ❞

❝  you’re  famous  !  ❞

❝  are  you  baiting  me  ?  ❞

❝  how  about  some  more  cookies  ?  ❞

❝  this  could  be  the  best  thing  to  happen  to  all  of  you.  ❞

❝  why  are  you  here  ?  ❞

❝  i  have  eliminated  no  suspects.  ❞

❝  you  tell  her,   or  i  will.  ❞

❝  that’s  some  heavy  duty  conjecture.  ❞

❝  i’m  warning  you.  ❞

❝  are  you  goddamn  insane  ?!  ❞

❝  up  your  ass.  ❞

❝  matter  of  fact,   eat  shit.  ❞

❝  definitely  eat  shit.  ❞

❝  i  won’t  eat  an  iota  of  shit.  ❞ 

❝  i’ll  slap  that  smug  smile.  ❞

❝  we  gotta  do  this  more  often.  ❞

❝  when  people  get  desperate,   the  knives  come  out.  ❞

❝  this  is  a  twisted  web,   and  we  are  not  finished  untangling  it.  ❞

❝  i  keep  waiting  for  the  big  reveal.  ❞

❝  i  don’t  feel  like  talking,    i’m  distraught.  ❞

❝  you  vicious  little  bitch.  ❞

❝  in  for  a  penny,   in  for  a  pound.  ❞

❝  you  asshole.  ❞

❝  you’ve  always  been  good  to  me.  ❞

❝  what  i’m  about  to  say  isn’t  gonna  be  easy,   and  you’re  gonna  be  upset.  ❞

❝  you  all  love  twisting  the  knife  into  one  another.  ❞

❝  you  know  something,   spill  it.  ❞

❝  did  you  just  google  that  ?  ❞

❝  i  did  just  google  that.  ❞

❝  don’t  answer  that  if  you’re  gonna  puke.  ❞

❝  what  the  shit  ?!  ❞

[silasgraves]

they don't talk as much as they used to. he knows it's his fault, but sabine should take solace in the fact that silas doesn't really talk to anyone, anymore. short phone calls and quick visits. the man that isolates himself in his new home thought it was better that way. his drinking had gotten worse, after the divorce, and no one should really have to suffer but him. there was also the fact that silas felt as if his siblings may have liked his ex husband more than him. not that silas blames them - not when jasper, the architect who has enough self control to stop drinking ; the man who always bought the best gifts, who told the best jokes, who had so much love in his heart that he didn't know what to do with it, was forced out of their lives by their alcoholic brother. even still, none of that made the sentiment sting any less. and sabine commenting on perhaps being better of representing jasper in their divorce had left a bad taste in silas's mouth, even if it was a joke. he wasn't prone to holding grudges, but he still hasn't been able to get over it, quite yet. his heart wouldn't let him.

' you shouldn't read before bed. you were never good with horror - you always got nightmares, ' head turns away, for a moment, silas's eyes unused to the light. he allows them to adjust before looking back at his sister. where once they had a bond, now silas felt like something had been torn between them. he could only imagine that that was his fault, too. there was little that wasn't. and as much as he wished he could get that connection back, silas didn't know how. so the rift continued, possibly even grew. he listened to sabine talk, sitting with one leg over the other, crystal eyes half lidded. he can't help the scoff that escapes him at the insinuation of being their mother's favorite. perhaps sabine can go back and watch his and sylvia's relationship from her adult point of view. ' mom doesn't have favorites, sab. she neglected us all equally, ' that's harsh, and he knows it, but he doesn't take it back. silas leans his head against his hand to subdue a temple that's just begun to throb from lack of drink. ' the last time i visited her was late summer, ' silas knew sabine would know for what date. ' have you tried facebook? it seems she really likes being online, '

[buriedgraves]

       sabine is used to loneliness. some days she wears it like armor to pretend that she doesn’t seek the connection, the closeness, especially from her siblings. no one could hurt her if she didn’t them. which is why there is no apology from her, no true pleading to get back to normal. for as long as she can remember this has kind of been their normal anyway. and while she might feel the phantom buzz of her phone, hoping it’s one of her siblings, it almost never was. there’s a disappointment in the silence though, and her innate need to fill it. 

       “i know, i know,” she wasn’t trying to read before bed, but the hum of the airplane had lulled her into it. even when suspended in the sky she insisted on working. pouring over the court documents, or the self-assigned homework of reading her brother’s book. “i just thought it would be nice if we could talk about it. you’re so talented and -” she wants to say how it’s the best thing they have in common nowadays. that if they are talking about something else then they didn’t have to talk about the distance between them. “ - i thought because it was you the nightmares wouldn’t happen. which is silly i guess. you’re just as scary of an author as anybody else.”

       she recoiled at the thought. sab wasn’t close with their mother but it was difficult to hold a struggling woman accountable, especially when they had never been very close. instead, sabine watched from afar how their mother seemed to bestow her affection onto silas as if wringing water from a sponge. how it seemed endless and bountiful and easy. it never felt easy for her. not even on the good days. “don’t let her hear you, you’ll lose favorite status for sure.” sabine chewed on her lip, “haven’t seen her since christmas. i tried to call on there too, but it doesn’t look like she’s been active for the last week or so.”

[achillics]

I will go to war in a red dress, trample your ashes in high heels, look for my lipstick stain on your collar when I lean forwards not to kiss you, but to whisper: “I win.”

I am woman - a.j. (via achillics)

[silasgraves]

34 years since his father's passing, and silas still visits simon's grave. sometimes it feels like an obligation. other times, he wants to do it. every year, regardless of what he's doing with his work, how deep he was in a bottle, whether he indulges the mourning or pushes it aside, silas always ends up back in tombstone, virgina. back in the graveyard where simon graves is buried. silas is aware he nor any of his siblings got enough time with their father. he had barely gotten to know simon, and yet, he still looked up to him. he'd been a good dad for eleven years, and if that's all silas had to remember him by, then at least he still had his memories. having left the cemetery, silas slowly made his way back to his childhood home, sitting in the car, staring up at its curtained windows and the porch light that was always on, no matter what time of day it was. he knows his mother is inside. he can't remember if he called to tell her he'd be in town, but silas thought she'd know, anyway. she always seemed to know.

walking up the path, he lets himself in, calls into the house so that sylvia isn't startled when silas finally finds her in the dining room, sitting under the chandelier. he stops just inside of the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a bouquet of flowers - silas had bought two ; one for his father, and one for her. ' painting or writing letters today? ' he questions as he approaches, placing the flowers on the table beside her and leaning down to press a soft kiss to her graying hair. seeing the way he aged always startled him a bit. when silas was a child, he thought his parents were invincible. that changed after simon died, of course, and now every year, he saw his mother grow closer to death, too. ' it's beautiful outside. have you been out today? ' @buriedgraves.

[buriedgraves]

      sylvia wore her grief. it was her favorite sweater. it fit so smugly and she knew just how it smelled. how it ached. often the ache is what reminded her that she was alive most days. it prodded her to get out of bed. and today, of all days, she could hear her late husband's voice in her head. sometimes he would come into their bedroom, and let all the light in. opening the curtains with a whoosh, arms wide. she'd squint but the sunlight would illuminate him like a cherub. rosy cheeks, a big smile, begging her to seize the day. slyvia could never seem to. wherever he brought light into the room she couldn't. it was beyond her capabilities. she didn't have that same spark. only darkness.

      it's not dark today though. she hums to day-o in time with the record player. the curtains are open. sylvia carefully sets out the indian food she's ordered. the smell wafts through the air and she sets out the meals as if they were five courses. as if she had made it right then. she doesn't need to look up to know it's silas, she was expecting him. "no letter today." she said. "i tried, but couldn't seem to muster the spirit." sylvia looked at the window as if she had forgotten that there was a world beyond her home. she pushed up her glasses before shaking her head. "it's allergy season, didn't want to start that up."

[endlessinspos]

[buriedgraves]

SLOANE  //  @sloanegraves

       “so,” conversation falls short. sabine doesn’t know what to say, because out of all of her siblings it’s sloane she has the most difficult time with. they had so much in common that often sabine felt like they were meant to compete. to compare. as if were a contest where one of them was declared the winner, and the other had to lose. she’s smart enough to know that family shouldn’t mean competition, but she can’t seem to help the thinking. sab felt overlooked in the graves’s lineup and now her accomplishments seemed to mirror her sisters. as if they were headed on parallel tracks. 

       “the p.r. firm going well?” it’s all she knew how to talk about it. sabine regret’s the question as soon as it’s asked but smiles. she reaches for her water, taking a healthy sip. “has anything else been interesting lately? you still do a free divorce to cash in at some point. remember, first ones free but after that you only get the friends and family discount.” she laughed, “after all it’s not a charity.” 

        sabine paused for a moment and tilted her head. “although i suppose if you married the right sort of asshole the second time around i could be convinced.” a full grin spreads across her features. “i do love a fight.” 

[buriedgraves]

SILAS // @silasgraves

"i tried to read your new book." sabine offers it like it's an olive branch. a plea to 'please forget about what i said after the divorce'. she should have known better than to joke about representing jasper. it didn't matter that by that point he had become family. or was easier to keep in touch with than her brother. "it was really good - spooky." which truthfully was not her forte.

sabine leans over to turn on a lamp, trying to bring more light into the space. "i plan on finishing it so don't spoil anything!" she bit her lip, trying to gauge his expression. "i - uh - just kept having this weird dream about one of the characters." she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, smoothing out her trousers. "i imagined him as one of the spectators in the court. it's was a big case and i couldn't spare any more restless nights i'm afraid."

"anyway, just wanted to say that it was good i guess. i hope that you're also good." part of her wanted to ask if he was angry with her. being stuck in the middle meant that they seemed to have the highest of highs and low lows, but at the end of the day it was often silas who was easiest to talk to. that could be because she did most of the talking, but sabine didn't mind that. "have you heard from mom? she hasn't been picking up my calls. and you're her precious baby boy, so i thought you might have had a different result."

[fairweathermyth]