noise dept.
Keni
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cherry valley forever
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
tannertan36
Kiana Khansmith
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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if i look back, i am lost
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Andulka
seen from Türkiye
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@waitlonger
𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝙰𝙽𝚈𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝.
an original horror muse, conceptually based in/affiliated with AMERICAN HORROR STORY: MURDER HOUSE and its promotional website, you’re going to die in there. previously established in twenty-eighteen under the url @wantlonger. adored by ashley.
i missed my gorl so …. i brought my tatum riley blog back @caspercut
— you can check in any time you like , but you can never leave ! ©
i will post the proper promo later today but ... @snopesdeath
↪ 𝑨 𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑹 𝑹𝑶𝑺𝑬 . (a collection of sentence starters from chapter one of r.h. sin’s poetry collection “ she fits inside these words ” . adjust phrasing as necessary . triggering themes may be implied . )
staying makes no sense .
you’re taken , but you’re alone .
i wish you smiled at me that way .
come on , you’re kidding yourself .
it’s like you’re waiting to be loved .
you’re here every night , aren’t you ?
i’ll be honest , i’ve lied to myself .
listen , i know you hate being alone .
you don’t need to turn the volume down .
why do we make each other wait for love ?
i have found myself being in awe of you .
it made ruins of my heart , loving you .
you left , and i grew stronger without you .
i’m sorry , i don’t want to come off as rude .
a part of me hates the idea of finding true love .
i wish i could promise some fashion of salvation .
your heart was never meant to carry this sadness .
am i wrong for believing i could be right for you ?
i hate the way i fumbled my heart into your hands .
the silence was always the loudest coming from you .
your eyes are always so sad in every photo you post .
i have been searching for you while being distracted .
i felt it . the moment we began to lose one another .
we lose so much time holding on to lovers who hate us .
it’s strange ; my heart is heavy and empty at all times .
be a mess when it’s over , if that’s how you really feel .
maybe it’s none of my business , but i’ll take my chances .
you’ve been wasting those restless 3am’s on the wrong person .
your heart is a sanctuary , the way you have me on my knees .
when you’re ready to choose someone other than yourself , choose me .
crazy to think that i was hoping you’d silence my demons , but they were you all along .
don’t tell me ghosts aren’t real when i can see you but you’re obviously no longer here .
i didn’t want advice , i didn’t want a solution . i just wanted you to hug me . that was it .
it’s like you’re trying to forgive yourself for all the shit that he did to you . that’s not right .
i hate the way i could muster up the courage to care for someone who was never brave enough to fall for me .
i guess i care way too much about something that has nothing to do with me , but that won’t stop me from saying all of this to you.
@motheroeverything : ❛ can you say that again ? ❜
"i said —” dolores swallows her words again, musters a mildly bashful laugh. she’s not prideful on much, but her garden is something she puts her sweat, tears, and (literal) blood into ... and yet, her roses refuse to blossom, much to dolores’s disappointment. perhaps it’s time to turn to an outsider’s advice, as she’s used up her usual tricks.
it’s as if the soil simply disagrees with her, and that’s that. “do you have any tips for the rose garden? no matter what i do, they won’t bloom. i’ve tried everything and — i’d like to see them before autumn. they’re my favorite.”
@gardenofsnakess : “if i wanted help, i would have asked.”
it’s almost comical how swiftly the bride’s expression shifts. her honey, warm grin pickles sour almost instantly — a dark brow arches in surprise at the reaction. “well!” dolores huffs. with her lips pursed into a cross pout. “goodness. i was only trying to be polite,” she folds her hands against her hips, fingers pointing outward. “... if you change your mind, just remember to ask, i suppose.” oh, that’s petty, but dolores doesn’t regret it ... for now anyway. it’ll haunt her later when she’s musing if she was too harsh.
The other day, lying in bed, I felt my heart beating for the first time in a long while. I realized how little I live in my body, how much in my mind.
Rodger Kamenetz, from Terra Infirma (University of Arkansas Press, 1985)
JOHANNA HOPE.
not for the first time johanna wonders if she, well, knows. though, surely, a ghost talking about how they are with child & are excited for said child’s arrival knows of their fate. do they? or does it happen when one dies? becoming devoured by denial. it sounds horrifying. if it is, she is glad she is not dead.
❝ you are? ❞ it is the most heartbreaking thing she’s ever heard. if the mother is dead, then the baby . . . dolores will never become a mother to that child. she will never get to hold them or know them at all. she has never lost a child before, but the idea of it is hell.
what can she say to that? she knows the baby will never come. she knows dolores has not taken a breath in however long. ❝ is your husband happy as well? since you spoke about starting a family . . . ❞
what is going on in this “little” home that dolores’s joy is so fleeting? she has just spoken of her baby, and yet her exuberant expression wavers, drifts into something contemplative and nearly solemn. “i think i’ve surprised him,” dolores admits with a mustered laugh. her smile is far, far from her eyes. she shakes her head and continues,
“i know he must be happy, but i had told him just before our wedding and — well, he had so much on his mind.”
it’s why her groom is now working these asinine hours; the lambs need all the money that the breadwinner can scrape together.
“we haven’t talked much about it since,” dolores adds, somewhat reluctantly.
LANCE PRESTON.
Despite his own exasperation, Lance’s interest was piqued all the more. After a moment of consideration, he decided to humor her with the whole act. If she really wanted to stay in character at all times, then maybe, it was his time to outact her then. Reaching for the tape recorder in his back pocket, he hit record the second it was out and then readjusted the pen in his hands as well, readying himself up to turn this into a proper interview then. Because who knew, dedicated that this chick was with the role, maybe she knew more about this place and its history than him, saving him a lot of further research time on it. He got into his usual show act as an interviewer and history nerd.
“All right, I’ll bite. Why don’t you want to talk about Constance Langdon? Do you think she had anything to do with that Tate kid snapping? You know more about that backstory? Could you tell us?”
Still recording, Lance had a little look around the place, letting the creepy yet plain sight of the room sink in.
“Rumor has it that there’s something dark in these halls and that this is what drove all these people to do the things that they did in here. Then again. ‘Something dark’ could also be an euphemism for abusive households. Was Constance that kind of person? Was she a terrible mother and drove him to commit this heinous crime on innocent students?”
She was getting more into it by the second, all the more agitated to a point that maybe, Lance was starting to get concerned. Because, shit was she good. He honestly couldn’t tell if it was part of the act or if he’d genuinely upset this woman. Which would be both sad and creepy if true. Because all of this genuinely upset her so much and got her too obsessed, welll…then he currently found himself all alone with a woman with mental problems. Maybe even drugs? Nah, she didn’t look the type. Still, he couldn’t quite fight the goosebumps that were starting to form on the back of his neck the longer she spoke and riled herself up with the offense taken.
“Hey, please just calm down now, okay? I didn’t know the guy had a wife, nor that you would be here. He gave me the keys and told me I could check this place out, see” he replied, trying to sound soothing and genuine as he showed her the keys to the house with an apologetic look on his face. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend you. We can call him right now if you’d like. He’ll confirm everything I just said.”
She was having none of it. The combination of her striking motion and the creaking of the door behind him genuinely startled the director. But then soon enough, he found himself laughing. Not in a mocking manner, but in a fascinated one as he approached the door somewhat cautiously, to check for any wires or other tricks. Feeling the wood, searching for clues.
“Holy shit, how’d you do that?! Amazing!”
this isn’t — this isn’t right. mister preston doesn’t care for tate or any of the langdon children, he’s asking them about their nightmare like he’s a sleazy reporter or something. dolores has have a mind to tell him off, but at the same time ... she wants someone to know the truth.
“yes! yes! oh, you should see how she treats her boys! it’s just awful. and that poor little girl of hers —” almost all of constance’s children have ... unfortunate circumstances surrounding their birth. tragic, of course, but no need to shame them for an unexpected gift given by god. they are, after all, sweet children.
“tate never speaks kindly of his mother and she deserves it,” dolores informs firmly. while it’s true that constance langdon will never win mother of the year, there is a pettier reason behind the bride’s fervor: a horrific jealousy. four children, all kind as can be, and she never appreciates a one. dolores knows she will be a better mother one day, but she still desires to swoop the langdon flock out from under constance’s wing.
the fire is stoked and dolores is not in any position to ‘calm down’; she scoffs, crossing her arms firmly over her chest, at lance’s explanation that the owner’s given them permission. “no, that’s absurd — leroy would warn me ...” yet lance pulls out proof; dolores’s gaze softens, and though her frown remains in place, it morphs into one of confusion rather than accusation.
“why ... why wouldn’t he say something?” for heaven’s sake, this is their home! she spends more time confined to the house than he does, it isn’t fair to her to — ... there must be a mistake. yes, perhaps leroy did warn her, and she’s silly enough to forget. dolores is too preoccupied mulling this possibility over to pay any mind to the door. “when — when did you speak to him?”
Tag the OC that blushes easily
KAI ANDERSON.
Thankfully the glass on the floor is AVOIDABLE, making a clear enough path to the toilet where Kai decides to sit down and wait for Dolores to get out the first aid kit. When the hand towel is pulled away, there’s blots of CRIMSON soaking the fabric, but not so much as to be concerned for him bleeding out. Though, some of the cuts would definitely require some time to heal. Kai stares dead ahead at the wall, swallowing a lump in his throat as she asks him what happened. Any explanation he gives is going to make him sound completely INSANE. He has to tell himself that Dolores was not Vincent. She wouldn’t ever betray him like that, wouldn’t go behind his back and look into getting him locked in a psych ward.
Once he’s managed to convince himself of that, his gaze shifts onto Dolores, the frown on her face causing the cult leader to HESITATE for another beat. “ I couldn’t hear myself think. Guess I just got…irritated. “ Kai said. At least that didn’t make it sound too out of left field, but the results of the broken mirror was still more intense of a reaction than it warranted. “ Sorry for worrying you, Doll. “
⠀
they are the only two in this house; it’s an unusually quiet night for the anderson home without kai’s typical company around. dolores, secretly, is grateful they’ve found somewhere else to be for the evening, though her reasons for this gratitude have changed since discovering kai. now, she’s convinced they’d just make whatever he’s going through worse. the last thing he needs is to play babysitter to those terrible men. dolores wishes her beloved would find better company.
“what did you hear?” her question is timed with the wrapping of gauze around kai’s hand. she looks up as her fingers idly continue their task. “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but it might help you feel better.” the death of his brother has weighed heavily on kai; although the man’s downward trajectory began long before, he really hasn’t been the same since. she knows grief, it’s an unfortunate yet intimate friend by now, but she’s never been plagued by the night terrors and visions that kai is facing.
dolores cuts the gauze with a small pair of scissors tucked away in the kit, “i don’t think you’ll need stitches, but ... we should keep an eye on your hand.”
KAI ANDERSON American Horror Story: Cult
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FINNEY BLAKE.
The boy allows himself to be led around, to be pulled close. The further inside they go the more he feels this was a mistake; nothing jumps out at him to give him reasons for feeling it, but he feels it all the same. So he grips her hand and doesn’t pay attention to their surroundings. Just lets his eyes move around while not processing anything.
“I live a street over.” Everything was better in California, right? Much better than the streets of Denver where he and his sister would still look over their shoulders and stopped wandering. “I live with my dad and younger sister.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a dark red patch forming on Dolores’ dress. He doesn’t let himself react and instead gives the lady’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“It’s a lot noisier in this city than I’m used to.”
every so often, as they stroll, dolores engages in more than a glimpse from the side of her eye. there are no defined figures in the shadows, but make no mistake: they are there. she turns her head and narrows her eyes at these empty spaces, as if offering a silent warning. a mother bear is content to forage for fish and berries ... until her cub is threatened.
when dolores refocuses her gaze on finney, she bares a softer look. “... well, maybe next time you can bring your sister with you.” she assumes there will be a next time of almost anyone that enters her home. even when her memory falters, and the scape of her brain is no more than a fog-covered plain ... dolores holds out hope. she is, after all, agonizingly lonely.
“and your father if you’d like! leroy and i don’t know anyone in the neighborhood very well. so i guess we’re in the same boat then, huh?” she chuckles, and it’s a band-aid for a wound that’s already necrotic.
can’t talk, too busy obsessing over nope (2022)
