#v: ghost.

[dustwereturn]

🏤Stepping into a house that gives off all the wrong vibes. // for Delores !!

EIGHT MONTHS, that's how long the house has sat vacant. of course, that time is but a blink of an eye to dolores, who can't seem to recall the lovely couple that moved in last. they had no children, she recalls that, and frankly that was a disappointment. she'd hoped they were going to try, but now the pair's gone and vanished from the house as if they never existed in the first place.

as the house hungers, yearns for its next soul to tangle in its dark, unyielding clutches, dolores yearns too. she hopes for a friend, perhaps a nice housewife to talk to as sweets bake in the oven — though her SWEET TOOTH in death is just chalky and bitter. maybe a family with little ones that will grow alongside her own ... dolores still firmly believes that the delicate flower in her womb will bloom. she paces the house and plans which room will be the nursery, which room will be the playroom ...

oh, she never imagined living in a house so large as to have both a nursery and a playroom for her baby.

even if her new friend is not a family or a housewife, dolores just wants someone new to talk to. don't get her wrong! all of her other friends are peachy keen, but — well, dolores now realizes that she doesn't have much in common with any of them, as nice as they are. there's not MUCH to talk about, and half of them are too darn glum to chat the afternoons away.

which is why dolores is thrown into a NEAR-RAPTUROUS glee when there's a knock at that sturdy wooden door that holds back the horrors of the manor within. she forgets all decorum, forgets how to use her tongue and call back — just a minute!, before scurrying off into the kitchen. if there are going to be guests, then the little ghost has to scavage something to offer them! she'd be a terrible hostess to let this stranger go hungry.

another knock at the door — she is RUNNING out of TIME! the dusty serving tray clatters to the ground in as dolores frantically rummages through cupboards. THERE IS NO TIME! she will have to ask her guest to sit patiently in the sitting room while she finds the poor traveler a snack. dolores smooths over her skirts and does her best not to trip over her own feet as she scurries over out-of-place floorboards.

the bride throws open the front door just as a third knock is placed, and she greets him with weary eyes and a forced yet DAZZLING smile. “how can i help you, sir?”

[dustwereturn]

“Are you alone in the house?” / dolores

"well, i —" she's not entirely sure if she should disclose that information. why sure, it's just another woman that she'd be allowing into her home but ... call her paranoid, dolores just hasn't felt like her usual sociable self these days. perhaps she's just EXHAUSTED after the wedding; this is supposed to be her honeymoon, she should be enjoying herself ... instead, her house is empty and her groom is nowhere to be found these days. this isn't exactly what dolores had in mind ... she's so lonely.

"why don't you come in anyway, hon?" the hostess scooches off to the side to let johanna enter. she musters the warmest, SUNNIEST grin she can possibly bear, and gestures internally towards her grand abode. "what's the matter, are you lost or something? los angeles is such a hard city to navigate."

[dustwereturn]

@ameeperduee, continued down she goes. lila is no stranger to using violence by any means — she'd be a major hypocrite if seeing this woman go down made her uncomfortable in any way. this woman is not on a path to her death, as lila drags her by the ankles down a cortez hallway. she'll be sore when she wakes, there's no doubt about that, but she'll have both of her kidneys. hell, if the specter wasn't of such SMALL STATURE, she'd find a better way to carry raylee to room 37.

alas, lila makes it up to the her by awkwardly sitting raylee against the side of the queen bed. death has hardened her, but she isn't entirely without a fragile ounce of compassion ... even in her misguided (and it is often misguided, as most things lila does) way.

"HEY. HEY." that gentility is not found in her tone however, as she attempts to stir raylee. lila crouches beside her unconscious companion. "wake up. hey."

[hilllbillies]

@coastercrushed liked for (👻) "not'a be rude or anythin'," any time billie says anything of this sort, something absolutely fucking dreadful is about to come out of her mouth. "but what the hell kinda name's mapplethorpe?"

[hilllbillies]

“ you don’t need to be walking these roads alone at night. you should get in. ” (Leaf to ghost v. Billie?)

THE  TEXAS  CHAINSAW  SERIES   sentence starters !

in life, billie was an expert hitchhiker. she knew all the tricks to get someone to pull over, how to bat her eyes ever so, so that a trucker's willy would get all excited and he'd give her a free ride. with no driver's license and foot power only getting you so far, it was her go-to way of getting around.

fitting then that in death, when billie is so desperately trying to find her way home, she returns to what is familiar.

these days, she does not have the same luck hitching a ride; instead of her post-mortem state, billie chalks it up to people being assholes. not that it matters now; fuck the rest of 'em, her luck is beginning to change! about damn time.

"shit, thank you so much." this level of appreciation is unusual for billie, but she's desperate; all day standing out here, and this is the first person willing to help her? hell, she'll mind all of her p's and q's if it gets her where she needs to be.

billie flashes the other a toothy grin as she opens the passenger side door. "you headin' up by big bend at all? 'cause that's up by where i'm headed."

[hilllbillies]

❛ there's no going back. ❜

(     *     THE SUBSTANCE PROMPTS   !    

"you don't know that." she spits with all the venom of a king cobra. like a toddler determined to get their way in a store, billie plops to the ground. she sits cross-legged and folds her arms over her chest. "i ain't goin' anyplace with you, an' if you ain't gonna help me, i'm gonna help myself." gotta do everything her damn self around here, doesn't she?

it's becoming obvious, quite rapidly, why billie continues to linger in this hapless state; there is no helping someone that doesn't want to be helped, and there isn't any teaching someone that so desperately wants to think they're in the right.

that just leads to one question though, doesn't it? if billie knows so much, where is her family? why have they broken the one rule of their creed and left one of their own behind?

"go away, you ain't doin' nothin' for me. i'll find 'em just fine on my own."

[timeate]

“it’s that time of year again, @traumapyre.” she fiddles with a small, festive spider between her fingers. the ghost bounces the toy like a yo-yo from the faux silken string attached to its rear.

“did you know that tomorrow is the first of october? it’ll be halloween soon enough. it’s my favorite time of the year.” a foreboding anniversary awaits even closer.

[timeate]

🔒 dolores. (they could also get steamy in the closet, I mean -- )

Send🔒for our muses to get locked in a closet together.

"oh, f— fiddlesticks." dolores' mumbles are drowned out by her fist rhythmically pounding against the door. she breaks her one-sided fight to fumble with the knob again, even presses her shoulder against the peeling wood to give it some oomph. the closet door does not budge, however, and dolores leans against it in defeat.

"it won't open!" she cries to morgan, wide eyes straining to focus in the the dim lighting. there must be a century's worth of dust stored in this space, and half of it idly floats in the flickering glow.

"i don't know what to do." dolores strays from the door and lays both palms on morgan's chest; her head soon follows, using his shoulder as a pillow. "i'm so silly, darling — i shouldn't have let the door shut behind us!"