clothes discarded , the swimming hole was a perfect place to be for quiet and tranquility in the early mornings of the day . no rancid teenagers to show off , or ill tempered elders to tell her off . and rare were the encounters with rude wolves . that’s what she believed , and she bathed in it : watching as the steam rolled off of her , the cold nipping at the bare skin that was still wet from the lake . privacy and decency were lost to the ages , and even upon hearing the shallow breathing of a companion , the innate feeling to cover up was nowhere in sight . ‘ the water’s nice out here . ’
despite the animosity of never relocating , this town’s got flavor she’s grown accustomed to ---- bitter , sure , but familiar ( and familiarity is comfortable , don’t ya know ! ) . talk of what comes out at night , taught to mind her own and keep a high guard . impossible feat , really , when it came in the distinct form of a beautiful woman . and so what if misty was staring ? gawking . admiring from afar . no harm , no foul . right ? caught red - handed , but intrigue etches her to the water’s edge . nowhere near brave enough to tempt what’d surely coagulate blood . ❝ s’not the only thing that’s nice out there . ❞
he isn’t sure what to make of the girl that appears every single day , at the same time like clockwork . she looks familiar , he’s near positive that she is who he thinks but it’s been decades and if he didn’t know about her death — she’d have to be at least a hundred years old by now . no one has ever perplexed him this much , not even after spending two years in this town . “ what can i – uh help you with ? “ alcide is stumbling over words , her familiarity seeping into his being and leaving him baffled . “ we should have some shirley jackson somewhere but uh — i’d have to look around a bit for poetry . were you needing a title in particular ? “
patient as ever , phebe waits as this man explains what may be available . although , she’s finding it rather difficult to hone in on what exactly is being said while simultaneously studying his body movement . it’s quite complex , you see . ❝ shirley jackson ? ❞ well that caught her interest . ❝ i do love shirley jackson . ❞ would settle for whatever’s recommended , honestly . in dire need of something , anything , to snuff out this funk that's taken hold of her . wasn’t expecting a follow - up question , so she’s muttering a moment before fully proceeding . ❝ not a title , but maybe along the lines of edgar allan poe ? his work was peculiar . and , uh , his mind was a little twisted . ❞ would know a thing or two about that .
The bar was empty that night. Usually people came in in droves from downtown looking for one of two things: getting wasted enough to forget it all or meet a potential lover…or at least just for the night. Koa didn’t stride in that evening, six-four frame, messy brown locks tied back enough to let only a few strands rebelliously stray from the rest, black, worn boots ambling in, exhausted, for any of the aforementioned reasons. He just wanted a glass of whisky, straight…maybe a couple, just to e a s e himself into the rest of the night. There were no hunts that day and there hadn’t been for a few weeks now. What kept him coming back to the bar was his job; all the bikes that needed tuning and fixing before spring, working tirelessly for twelve, sometimes sixteen hours.
Finding an empty bar stool by a stranger, he held two fingers out at the bartender who immediately went off to grab a glass and a bottle of Jameson. Removing his coat, he peered over at the stranger sat by the empty stool. “Anyone sitting here? Mind if I steal it?”
frequents this haunt every night , one of few recognizable locals . usually she’d find her parents here , drunk off their asses ---- the evening could turn into a whole fuckin’ family reunion by bar - time ----- but tonight’s different : old and senile creatures nowhere in sight , so she gets a night off from PLAYING BABYSITTER . already pre - gamed her night drinking , sipping on brandy from a flask since lunch , and she literally just dropped an acid tab . it should go without saying that misty’s feeling pretty fucking good . ecstatic , really . when approached by a tall , dark and handsome stranger , indulging by a gaze that lingers on his stature a few seconds , she caves . was growing particularly fond of how silent the night’s been , however . ❝ spot’s open , ain’t it ? ❞ following a wave of the hand toward the empty bar stool , misty continues , ❝ by all means . seat’s yours . ❞ hasn’t looked away yet , though she sips on what remains of room - temperature beer . ❝ misty . ❞ that was quite the introduction , wasn’t it ? he hadn’t asked , but she hardly cares about that .
fingers trace shelves and shelves of books , eyes searching for anything that might pique interest ---- doesn’t recognize a single name , so she’d thumb through various stephen king novels ( the font is enticing , can you blame her ? ) before inevitably growing bored . not sure why she stops here every day after work , not like phebe’s checked out a book since opening her library account months ago ... suppose it could be the serenity of a quiet public environment and lack of coming in direct contact with another person . with the exception of this predicament , given her need for assistance . ❝ excuse me ? ❞ timbre never raises an octave over a hushed whisper . tells herself it’s to be mindful , though the only person in sight is the brute she’s speaking to . ❝ do you have any dark works of fiction ? ❞ hands lay flat atop counter . ❝ you know , poetry ? ❞
ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL DAY , these townspeople made it too easy ---- and with minimal effort ! sure , the money scrounged over the past few weeks has barely covered rent , but they’re getting there and that’s what matters . suitcase full of paranormal gear is abandoned on kitchen table as oleander passes , bad habit of leaving a trail ( that he’s blind to , no doubt ) . headed for the couch , loosening the noose of a tie at his throat as he sits . ❝ what’a breeze , ❞ preferred over trying to sell their act to skeptics . digs around in a pocket full of goodies , oblivious to the spare change and pocket lint falling onto the cushion beside him , eventually revealing a pack of cigarettes . ❝ how ya feelin’ , deens ? ❞ flips the lid and yanks a roach from the tightly nestled pack . ❝ think we deserve a celebratory joint for makin’ rent ? ❞ knows what her answer will be , no hesitation before it’s offered to his sister , shortly followed by a lighter that was likely hers . notorious for pocketing those little bastards . ❝ first hit’s all yours . ❞
the fool: do you have any nicknames?
the magician: have you ever written a poem or song about somebody else?
the high priestess: what is your dream date?
the empress: do you think you will ever get married?
the emperor: what are some names that you like?
the hierophant: do you believe in ghosts?
the lovers: do you have a crush?
the chariot: thoughts on astrology?
strength: what is your dream occupation?
the hermit: what is your favorite soda pop?
wheel of fortune: first three songs that come on shuffle?
justice: favorite color of rose?
the hanged man: favorite movie soundtrack?
death: what are three things you want to do before you die?
temperance: can you describe a strange dream you’ve had?
the devil: do you enjoy thunderstorms?
the tower: favorite colors to wear?
the star: have you ever seen a psychic?
the moon: have you ever written a love letter?
the sun: do you believe in magic?
judgement: do you enjoy school?
the world: do you like waking up early?
your muse is drinking with mine and has been given the chance to question my muse anything they want to know. some may be triggering, others won’t. send me a 🍻+ the question you want to ask my muse for a tipsy, drunken ( honest ) answer.
“ what’s holding you back in life ?”
“ is everything alright? ”
“ when did you choose to give up ?”
“ what’s the kinkiest thing you have ever done ?”
“ how many have you slept with ?”
“ what’s your biggest secret ?”
“ do you believe in love ?”
“ what’s the meanest thing you have done ?”
“ what scares you more than anything ?”
“ have you ever considered running away ?”
“ do you love me ?”
“ what’s your dirtiest fantasy ?”
“ who hurt you ?”
“ what made you this way ?”
“ is there anyone special in your life ?”
“ why are you always smiling ?”
“ what lie have you told that hurt someone ?”
“ if you could do anything in world, what would it be ?”
“ who are you, really ?”
“ is there anything you regret ?”
“ what’s your biggest regret ?”
“ tell me about your first kiss ?”
“ what is your deepest, darkest fear ?”
“ is there anyone you regret kissing ?”
“ have you ever cheated, or been cheated on ?”
“ what is the most embarrassing thing in your room ?”
“ who have you loved, but they didn’t love you back ?”
“ is there something you have never told anyone ?”
“ when was the last time you cried ?”
“ how come you keep running away ?”
“ have you ever made someone cry ?”
“ if anything, what makes you hate a person ?”
“ what takes for you to fall in love, trust someone ?”
“ do you believe in true love ?”
“ what have you done that people would judge you most for doing ?”
“ do you regret letting me close ?”
“ is there someone you have a crush on ?”
“ what is the strangest place you have ever had sex ?”
come get y’all juice . if ur reading this that means i’m done writing intros & currently have zero ( 0 ) things stressin’ me out .
𝚒'𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 , 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 ; that there is PHEBE BRYANT , notorious for being ( fractious ) and ( intense ) , but there are times when she can be ( receptive ) and ( uncritical ) . i've heard that she could pass as a VICTORIA PEDRETTI doppelganger , but i don't see it . the ( twenty - eight / one hundred and two ) year - old cis female ( ghost ) has been in town for ( fifteen years ) and they are the ( owner of evergreen gardener supply ) affiliated with ( no one ) . they tend to spark images of an empty and hollow gaze , deep sadness & misplaced hostility for no apparent reason , dirt - ridden feet from hours of helpless wandering .
tw : suicide ment .
basics .
name : phebe ann bryant
age : twenty - eight
dob : march 8th
zodiac : pisces
birthplace : can’t recall
gender : cis female
pronouns : she / her
sexuality : bisexual
+ character archetype the crestfallen .
behind the aesthetics .
an empty and hollow gaze .
nothing behind the eyes , window to a soul shows a lack thereof . might be looking directly at you , but it isn’t you that she’s looking at . stares off oftentimes , somehow pondering everything and nothing at all . unable to feel anything but her own emotions . not apathetic in the slightest ---- can understand words in - depth .
misplaced sadness and hostility for no apparent reason .
will cry as a first instinct , fueled in the core by an unfamiliar anger . sense of unease about her , an uncertainty in where the finite emotions spectrum was developed . doesn’t know how to appropriately react to any situation , only feels the two emotions and they’re intense . usually in some state of discomfort because of it .
dirt - ridden feet from hours of helpless wandering .
will come to just before sunrise , limbs coated in a thick layer of dirt . isn’t certain why that may be , sleepwalking is the only reasonable answer . can’t be convinced otherwise .
behind the hcs .
though she’s been wandering for the better part of a century , phebe isn’t aware that she’s dead . plagued with the same sadness in death as in life . empty , lost . if near the woods at night , the sound of her wailing might draw the unsuspecting near , but be cautious . because of her tragic and untimely death , has very little recollection of what life was before , can recall intense emotions and very little else .
in life , phebe was engaged briefly before getting note of her fiance’s death ---- while she doesn’t remember that , him or what her life came to following , can recall what was felt . anger and sadness . somehow , after years of wandering from place to place , phebe settled in vermont . has no concept of time , years seem to fly by . while she believes herself to be asleep in bed at night , the ache in her soul comes alive and that brings her into the depths of the forest . wailing sounds similar to that of a woman sobbing , yet it isn’t safe to approach phebe when she’s like that . form is not in a conscious state and will attack if approached / intimidated .
has awaken each morning since she can remember with feet encrusted with dirt and debris , but no explanation as to why . comes off a little peculiar . gawky . doesn’t pay much attention to anyone else , usually very lost in her own mind .
attempts to find people that would be able to understand her , but quite honestly ... phebe is very awkward and unapproachable . it’s easier to avoid her , strange how she’ll walk around town barefoot and in a sheet - of - a - dress , isn’t it ? appearing formless . loves meeting new people , but not at the cost of her humility .
she may own evergreen gardener supply , but phebe works there frequently . religiously . aids as a distraction to a mind that never sleeps .
the evergreen gardener supply is ideal for those looking to achieve a beautiful garden , perfect for someone who never gets a break from their subconscious ( much like phebe ) . typically working for long hours silences the mind , however temporary .
empty , lacking shine and color , eyes near captivating if you look long enough . how , one might wonder , do they appear so dead ?
she’s deceased , certainly nothing left of her body but bones on an ocean floor . even so , it’d be near difficult to tell if not for her eyes . pale - colored eyes cloudy , but touching her is possible , regardless of how frigid pale skin may be to touch .
why does having 3 characters entail 3 intros ... e*thanize me .
𝚒'𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 , 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 ; that there is OLEANDER ABERNATHY , notorious for being ( fickle ) and ( noncommital ) , but there are times when she can be ( sociable ) and ( urbane ) . i've heard that she could pass as a SAM CLAFLIN doppelganger , but i don't see it . the ( thirty - three ) year - old cis male ( human ) has been in town for ( eight months ) and they are a ( paranormal investigator ) affiliated with ( no one ) . they tend to spark images of infidelity despite a gold - banded finger , misconstrued fabrications told to unsuspecting townspeople , stealing from the rich to selfishly line pockets .
basics .
name : oleander james abernathy
age : thirty - three
dob : april 30th
zodiac : taurus
birthplace : somewhere in southern california
gender : cis man
pronouns : he / his
sexuality : hetero
+ character archetype the miscreant .
behind the aesthetics .
infidelity despite a gold - banded finger .
y i k e s , the man be married and do be suffering a bit from that toxic masculinity ngl . before you hate him entirely , just know he’s never voted republican and that’s as redeemable as it’s gna get w/ oleander . anywho , he’s noncommital , right . doesn’t believe in monogomy so why should he practice it ? sure , he hasn’t exactly come outright to his wife abt the cheating , but it isn’t like he’s hiding it either .
misconstrued fabrications told to unsuspecting townspeople .
the abernathy children have always enjoyed pulling one over on those that trusted them , much easier to do before becoming hardened by the world , but it’s an effortless pastime that keeps their bills paid and power on . wouldn’t hire them as paranormal investigators myself , their ground - breaking equipment looks a lil janky if ya look too close , but desperate times & all that .
stealing from the rich to selfishly line pockets .
when you’re born with less than what you think you deserve , ya may get a little resourceful as the years pass . never robbed a bank or committed federal crimes , but the bar’s pretty low . anything’s better than what they had , which was ... literally nothing . started stealing to fill empty stomachs , eventually realizing that evening out the scales and stealing from neighbors with nicer things was convenient . and better yet , wouldn’t have to spend a cent ( albiet any money in their possession was , without a doubt , stolen ) and could have anything they could find dreamt of .
behind the hcs .
father was a drunken bastard , mother was a word that felt like hollow cries in the night . the only person he’s capable of loving is his sister , the only constant in his life , she’s been his protector against all negative forces ( including , but not limited to , their own father ) . never sober long enough to keep a job so supplying sustenance for his children was improbable . cabinets were barren , collecting cobwebs , dust mites and beer tabs . they started small , stealing chocolate bars and gummy worms from the convenience store down the block , before growing bold . accumulating a finer taste as they matured , oleander and ondine began by dipping their toes in petty thieving . pick - pocketing the decrepit , breaking into vacation homes . you name it , they’ve done it .
not to say that oleander’s father & lack of a positive maternal figure is to blame for the way that he is , it certainly hasn’t helped . plenty distinct memories of physical altercations with intentions of hardening him into a man . the only person that’s ever kept him in check was ondine and she’s the only person oleander has ever genuinely cared about .
dabbles a bit in selling on the side . it’s easy pocket change , and as long as rent is paid in full each month , what difference does it make , right ? don’t tell ondine or she might just keel over .
not exactly the type you’d envision selling anything , something of a pretty boy tbh . wouldn’t do oleander ( or ondine ) any good if she found out about his little side business . they’ve hardly been able to pay the bills with the money that’s coming in from their skam of a business , so what if he slips an extra hundo in their rent jar . it’s beneficial to him that he step up and secure the roof over their heads . doesn’t want ondine to feel like she’s to blame for their being stuck in watermount .
incapable of feeling real , genuine love , disconcerting considering oleander is married . loves women , but being faithful to one ? that’s a no . doesn’t like feeling restricted , suffocated . as far as oleander’s concerned , monogamy is dull and he’s disinterested .
oh yes , he do be lovin’ women like it’s no one’s business . if he wasn’t meant to have different women in bed each week , then why are they all so irresistible ? riddle him that .
hey gang ! leah here . so , as per usual , i’ve procrastinated until the very last minute to write an intro , and for that ? i bid adieu & leave y’all with the shittiest intros you’ll ever read . mwah .
𝚒'𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 , 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 ; that there is MISTY TAYLOR , notorious for being ( crass ) and ( tawdry ) , but there are times when she can be ( insouciant ) and ( tenacious ) . i've heard that she could pass as a MARGOT ROBBIE doppelganger , but i don't see it . the ( thirty ) year - old cis female ( human ) has been in town for ( thirty years ) and they are ( the manager of corner street bodega and grocery ) affiliated with ( no one ) . they tend to spark images of packed on blue eyeshadow that hasn't been cool since the 2000's , obnoxious gum chewing paired with an over - pronunciation of words and an ego larger than the state of vermont .
basics .
name : misty lynn taylor
age : thirty
dob : july 5th
zodiac : cancer
birthplace : watermount , vermont
gender : cis woman
pronouns : she / her
sexuality : bisexual
+ character archetype the pastiche .
behind the aesthetics .
packed on blue eyeshadow that hasn’t been cool since the 2000′s .
her staple . will occasionally switch it up to white eyeshadow , but the blue is here to stay . goes w/out saying that she still wears chunky platform shoes and pairs them w everything . might need to get her ankles checked out tho , has rolled each a time of eighty and they seem to have gotten pretty frail recently .
obnoxious gum chewing paired with an over - pronunciation of words .
worst trait she could’ve acquired , works with tonnes of underage kids so forgive her for having the vernacular of a bitchy teenage girl . she’s got the range .
an ego bigger than the size of vermont .
an arrogant pos . thinks she’s hot shit , as one does . banged the whole football team by sophomore and let’s just say ... it’s not a direct result , but having that kind of power gets to one’s head , no matter how many years it’s been .
behind the hcs .
single - wide lacking insulation , a shared bed and no privacy . hard being comfortable with poverty - level income . parents were the town locals that’d frequent any establishment selling booze and stayed out well past bar - time --- shares maybe fifteen teeth between the pair , clothes peculiarly stiff ( would snap in half if not careful ) . everyone knows the taylors , judgement by association unavoidable .
likely inherited infamous alcoholism from parents that have worn the reigning crown of child neglect for decades . cps has been called numerous times , often after leaving the children home to fend for themselves . if you’re a local , you know at least one of the taylors , their personalities , however , are all the same : spitfires , willing to get their hands dirty in need - be . literal trailer trash , the lot of ‘em .
late teens / early twenties consumed by jail time , the bruising from silver bracelets never fully healed . sharp tongue and foul mouth are reigning , inherited attributes . probably partially to blame for never leaving town , unable to take accountability , however , so she’ll settle for scraps at the bottom of the barrel .
would probably shiv you tbh . the type to throw the first punch and pull ya hair out ya skull . spent collectively three years or so in & out of jail ( whoever said orange is the new pink is srsly disturbed ) , countless misdemeanors on her record . hates a pig in blue and has gotten tossed in cuffs more often over mouthing off to a cop than from legitimate fights . it’s complicated . uhhh she’s def the girl that peaked in high school that never left her hometown & it shows lmao .
managed corner street bodega and grocery for nearly ten years . misty despises it , of course , but she is quite comfortable in the piss - poor life she sustains . smells strongly of cheap perfume that burns the nose , believes it capable of masking the brandy on her breath .
hates her life but not in a self - loathing type of way . totally hates the repetition of it all , but dislikes not maintaining control of the direction her life is heading toward . will work at corner store til’ she’s cold in the grave because of that .
wanted connections .
not a damn thing but pls plot w me squiggly mouth emoji .
andulkaphoto
gummygunk
discoholicmusic
2087
prguitarman
amandla
blakekathryn
dailybridgerton
