i'm all wilt

i'm all wilt.

[wiltfllower]

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wiltfllower. an interpretation of violet harmon of american horror story: murder house.

carrd. / audio credit.

[wiltfllower]

interest call. - like this post and i'll hit you up with some plotting ideas! i'll limit this to the first couple for now while i get my bearings on this blog, but sooo excited to get this all started!

[catherinesboleyn]

Taissa Farmiga as Violet Harmon, Evan Peters as Tate Langdon

American Horror Story 1.05

[ohfiendangelical]

           “That tacky Eternal Darkness Tour cruises by pretty regularly, right? I could lean into the history like they do. Except classier, obviously. Make it a museum. Get it registered as a historical landmark.”          He looks around, considering it.         “Could be risky, though, with all the bad vibes ghosts here. I’m not looking to get sued ‘cause one of you throws a tantrum and kills a visitor.” 

Which leaves the other option: don’t do anything with it. Leave it as it is, do routine upkeep and maintenance to preserve it. He could still get it registered as a historical landmark. 

          “Or I could just do, like, nothing. Keep it locked up tight. I bet that would make the press go fucking bananas. Maybe once in a while, rarely, I’d open it up to throw a party. I don't mind when somebody dies at a party. Half the time I'm the one killing them.”

[wiltfllower]

A museum is better than an apartment complex. Locking the house up tight sounds even better than that. It probably wouldn't stop any break-ins from finding their way into the basement, but it would mean her parents wouldn't be running around doing that weird foreplay murder-pantomime they do anytime a family even thinks of staying overnight. They can all retreat to their corners of the house in peace, except for Halloween, or parties...

The cogs are turning. She really likes this idea -- but grown-ups (if Zero can even be considered one of those) always let you down. Better not to appear excited, or even believe he might follow through with any of these ideas.

Plus - didn't he just say he kills people? She's spent so much time in this place she almost skimmed right over that.

❝ Are you a serial killer or something? ❞

[wickdcreatures]

“  yeah,  something  like  that.  ”       and  then  a  pause.  and  a  smile.  it's  her,  and  she's  out  of  that  house!  is  it  just  for  today,  when  the  veil  is  thin?  how  far  can  she  go?  so  many  questions,  but  he  knows  better  than  to  try  to  ask  her  for  answers. 

“  i'm  popular  for  ghost  hunting  on  youtube.  ”       a  chuckle.        “  you  seem  in  better  spirits  this  time.  halloween  your  favorite  too?  ”

[wiltfllower]

❝ Ghost hunting? ❞ Ew. Her smile drops. ❝ I'm doing okay. I like Halloween enough. Just glad to be out of the house for the day. ❞

[wiltfllower]

❝ It's you! ❞ The cunt! ❝ Why the fuck are people stopping you for selfies? Are you some kind of cringe influencer? ❞

You'll notice Violet is not confined to her home today. Halloween fucking rocks.

@wickdcreatures

[ohfiendangelical]

          “Jesus fucking Christ,”          Zero laughs, running a hand through his curls.          “Yeah, that is fucking depressing. I’d kill myself if I was stuck here.”

Insensitive, perhaps, to say to someone that is very much dead and very much stuck here. But being insensitive is one of his many talents. 

          “Pretty house, though. Really unique-looking. I’d buy it,”          he says, doing another little scan of his surroundings. He could never live here; the roommates would no doubt get on his nerves, but it would be nice to own. Given the colorful history, maybe he could turn it into a museum. Or just upkeep it and visit occasionally. 

[wiltfllower]

❝ ...You'd buy it? ❞ Her mind races with possibilities. A homeowner who knows just how fucked up it is here, who can't die and clog up the hallways even more than they already are. A homeowner who might have a little respect for the souls stuck here -- who will give them privacy, and peace... But visit occasionally.

He seems to be a little sympathetic to her cause, at least. She peers at him through a curtain of hair, trying not to look too interested.

❝ What would you do with the place? If you did? ❞

[id1eyouth]

Alexandra doesn't flinch. Not at the contempt in Violet's voice, not at the sting of the words, not even at the subtle shift in the room that signals someone—or something—else is listening. She has grown used to that feeling, the press of unseen eyes. In her world, someone is always watching. Always waiting for her to slip.

Her gaze holds steady, and now, finally, there's something colder there. Not anger. Not defensiveness. Just the weary chill of someone who has heard it all before.

"I am strong," she says quietly, and there is no pride in it. No righteousness. "You think staying is weakness. Maybe it is. Maybe it's also strategy. Maybe it's what keeps him from turning that anger inward, onto himself—or worse, onto our son."

Her voice doesn't crack, but the pause that follows is heavy with unspoken truths. The kind that coat the inside of her mouth every morning and sit like stones in her stomach every night.

"You don't understand what it means to have a child," she continues, not cruelly, not condescending. Just fact. "You think it's easy to draw a line and walk away. But when you do that, you don't leave alone. You drag someone small and innocent over that line with you. Into courtrooms. Into shelters. Into a lifetime of knowing what their father is."

[wiltfllower]

Just because Alexandra keeps composed in the face of an angry man, and now an angry teenager, Violet does not consider her strong. This house has a way of wearing people's resolves. Making worse of what is already so, so bad. Harrison will curdle, as they all do. The others will circle closer. Zachary isn't safe here, with Harrison, with her, under this roof.

❝ Better to drag him away than drag him through it. ❞ Violet would know. Sullen, she picks at the sleeve of her sweater. ❝ You'll see what I mean. This house isn't safe for a kid. For multiple reasons. ❞

[tragicdeadgirl]

female awesome meme: [1/5] non-warrior characters

violet harmon (american horror story: murder house). “The darkness. It has me.”

[ohfiendangelical]

He laughs.          “God, that fucking sucks.”

It’s deeply sad—if she’s saying what he thinks she’s saying, anyway—but what else is there to do but laugh? Maybe his baby was the lucky one, going somewhere he actually belongs, getting to grow up. Being stuck in the liminal, never reaching full sentience, sounds miserable. But, then again, never reaching full sentience does mean never having to contextualize the tragedy of being, so maybe… 

Zero shouldn’t be comparing the two. It’s beside the point. 

          “How many corpses are crowding up this place anyway?”          It feels like a lot, more than even really makes sense. Maybe she’s right and there’s more truth to all the hearsay than he thought.

[wiltfllower]

"God knows. Almost thirty, as far as I've been able to count. There's about eight deaths I know of, just while I was alive, and there have been more since, so it's hard to keep track."

Violet knocks on a perfectly waxed wooden beam. Moira still takes good care of the place, even if she doesn't clean up after any of the ghosts here. Mom takes care of the garden. Chad and Patrick sometimes do some decorating here and there. They have to keep themselves occupied between explosive breakups and world-ending revelations of continued infidelity.

"There's the family that built this place, the couple that lived here before us... Those nurses from the sixties - there are shows about them, and... A lot of kids. Small ones. All from before. It's depressing."

[notmorbid]

the seas.

dialogue prompts from the seas: a novel by samantha hunt.

the roads only go south from here.

there's no privacy in this town.

we live here because we hate the rest of you.

we're getting out of here. let's go.

fuck the dry land. i'm a mermaid.

how come i don't know you?

love is a broken down old car by the side of the road. sometimes you have to rig a fan belt or an alternator with what you've got.

i wanted them to know you were mine, even if it wasn't true.

the older i get, the vaguer things become.

you make me feel like a pony.

sadness can be like a political cause, almost, or a religion. or a drug habit.

don't forget: the ocean is full of everything, except mercy.

nudity is more painful to me than loneliness.

you're young. you should travel. meet people. see the world.

i don't really like people, i think.

drinking helps us continue living in remote places. there's no one to tell us how swallowed we are.

have you ever thought your life was an experiment?

i'm afraid you'll disappear if i blink.

please don't be afraid of me.

what's making you so sad?

what you've done is quite serious.

you should be dead. it's a miracle.

i could almost fall asleep down here.

just don't get stuck here like i did.

isn't it after your bedtime?

don't forgive me. i wouldn't, if i were you.

will you get out of the car, please?

you're spooky.

you can see me?

you can't kill what's already dead.

you are the only warm thing to me.

only mothers can really know what being scared is like.

what are you in for?

tell me your story. i've heard all the others.

love can be like a well: steep sides, with no way out.

i don't know what to believe, just now.

i've read enough books to know that's not how it ends.

[ohfiendangelical]

          “You might want to lay off the news. That’s likely to drive anyone insane right now,”          Zero laughs.          “But I respect it.” 

He doesn’t know enough about the dead to discern whether or not her method will actually work. All he knows is what he’s already witnessed, other ghosts. So far, without fail, there is always at least some degree of degradation to the soul, disintegration of the self—but he isn’t an expert. He doesn’t make understanding the dead his business the way some of his peers do. For all he knows, she is different. Maybe he should keep checking back on her progress—or, more optimistically, her lack of progression. Against his better judgment, he finds himself rooting for her, hoping he comes back to a girl unchanged.

          “You one of the more recent deaths here? I can’t help but notice your modern, un-spooky clothes,”          he says.          “I heard some family died here in… twenty-eleven? Twenty-twelve? But it’s hard to tell which stories are urban legends and which aren’t.” 

[wiltfllower]

❝ Twenty-eleven. I'm technically a missing person. ❞ Not something she usually broadcasts to those who just walk in - but since he's aware of the rest of her situation... ❝ My mom and dad are here, too... And my brother. But he was basically DOA. He doesn't do much other than shit himself and cry twenty-four-seven, so I don't know if he even counts. ❞

Isn't that tragic? Terrible? Macabre? She's leaning into it all for shock value, testing him for squeamishness. A soft place for a knife to sink and twist.

-- Violet doesn't know why, or what for. She's enjoying this conversation. Call it the teenage urge to be a total and utter cunt to anyone within eyesight.

❝ A lot of the shit you've heard about this place is probably true. ❞

[ohfiendangelical]

Another little twist in his gut. I’m different. God, she really is young. He tries to imagine her in fifty years, a hundred, her spirit ravaged by restlessness, the unyielding march of eternity. How different will she be then? How rotten might she go?

          “Oh? Really! What makes you different?”          He’s genuinely curious about her answer, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, an underlying challenge: Prove it, kiddo.

[wiltfllower]

❝ Well first of all, I'm not old. So I know how to keep up with all the changes in the world. ❞ Violet watches Nora sometimes, wandering around and wailing at the differences, the butchering, the gutting of her once-beautiful and ever unhappy home. She's confused, doesn't understand. And Violet thinks that that's half the problem.

Aside from the gaping hole in her head, of course.

❝ And I keep track of the dates. The news. I keep my mind alert. I refuse to let time just pass by because I'm stuck here. ❞

[wiltfllower]

@deficd said: ❝ i threw the first punch. ❞

❝ Good. Those assholes had it coming. Next time, spit on 'em too. ❞ Violet does not miss school. She does not miss the monotonous droning of her various teachers, the courtyard politics, the side-eyes and weary glances from her fellow students and non-existent friends. Feyd having a shitty time at the same place a few years later is entirely unsurprising. Seems like school is shit, no matter how many years go by.

Violet winces a bit, looking at the cut on Feyd's brow.

❝ Did they gang up on you? This one girl used to have her friends pin me down, or else I would have beat her ass every time. ❞

[ohfiendangelical]

@wiltfllower SAID:   you think i’m crazy , but i’m not .       ☆     flower face sentence starters     ☆     send FANMAIL!

          “Did I say I thought you were crazy? I don’t think you’re crazy. Not yet, anyway. Give it a few more years, when your spirit has decayed a bit further.” 

He leans harsh with the dead, but it would be a lie to say he’s completely untouched. She looks young. It’s sad. Bleak, too—an eternity of unresolved teenage angst awaits her. With that in mind, it wouldn’t be a surprise if she did lose her mind faster than the average ghost. Still, it’s obvious she isn’t there yet; she’s completely coherent, her form is solid enough that one could mistake her for alive. Holding up well.

He smiles.          “I can guarantee I’m crazier than you. By a mile.”

[wiltfllower]

❝ Of course you're crazier than me. You willingly walked in here. ❞ Violet minimises her smile to a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth and glances away from his - as if anything is as interesting as a new visitor who seems perfectly at home with the concept of ghosts and cursed houses. In the long stretch between guests, the long today that is her existence drags somewhat painfully. It's nice to have somebody to talk to that doesn't treat her with outward pity, knowing what she is. ❝ And I'm not ever gonna go crazy like the others here. I'm different. ❞

[id1eyouth]

Alexandra's expression doesn't change at first. It holds, frozen for a beat too long, as though Violet has struck some hidden seam inside her and she is waiting to see if it splits open.

Then—so faint it might be missed—her shoulders ease. Not relax. Just shift. A recalibration of weight she’s long since grown used to carrying.

"I'm not afraid of him," she says, softly. Her eyes never leave Violet’s face. "I’m afraid of what is left when he’s gone."

There is no drama in the words, no self-pity. Just fact. A woman explaining the weather.

"He wasn't always like this," she adds, tone dipping into something almost tender. "And even now—he's... he's not a monster. Not always. People are more complicated than that. So are the things we love."

[wiltfllower]

People are more complicated than that, but the situation isn't complicated. When somebody does something to hurt you without apology once, they'll do it again if you let them. Violet looks at Alexandra like she's the child, barely repressing the rolling eyes, the deep contempt for adults who would prefer to bury their heads in the sand than notice when their kid is suffering.

Violet feels a tingle behind her ear, the back of her neck. Tate, somewhere nearby, listening in. He's always around, hidden, and she always feels him.

Not a monster, not always. Her skin crawls.

❝ That's such a cop-out. When somebody hurts the people you love, the people you're supposed to protect, you have to be stronger than whatever love you think is there. ❞

[id1eyouth]

Alexandra's gaze lingers on Violet a moment longer this time, as though weighing her up. Not unkindly, but with the measured caution of someone who has learned, long ago, to say only what must be said.

"In private," she replies, tone smooth as silk stretched thin. "When the doors are locked. When no one is listening through them." Her eyes flicker—just once—to the far window. The curtains don't move, but she watches them all the same.

Her eyes return to Violet, unnervingly calm and steady. "Comfort," she says, almost absently, "is not always the same as safety."

[wiltfllower]

Jesus Christ, this woman sounds more depressing than a Tolstoy protagonist. And that's coming from Violet, the girl who killed herself. Still. She can appreciate a want for privacy. Too bad she wont get it here, even with the door locked, these rooms are packed full of the dead, all watching, all reliving their own private tragedies in the very same room.

"You look like you're scared of something." Which Violet cannot relate to. "Why stay with a man you're afraid of?"