#aghostisawish

send ☠️ to meet muses that i no longer play / accepting!

    “Whoa whoa whoa. No way, man! You’re that guy---that ghost story author! Oh, shit, this is so cool. I’ve read all of your books. Well, not all of them. Most of them. Would it be weird if I asked for your autograph?” 

HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE.

STATUS: OBLIG REBLOG YES.

                   olivia  looks  over  the  case  of  books  before  her  with  a  scrutinous  eye  .  there  were  many  to  choose  from  ,  many  that  had  been  collecting  dust  just  as  long  as  olivia  had  been  collecting  these  works  of  art  .  she  enjoyed  immersing  herself  beneath  these  pages  ,  beneath  these  worlds  one  could  only  imagine  .  she  only  hoped  to  pass  that  on  to  her  children  .  her  eldest  seemed  the  most  susceptible  to  such  wonders  .   ❛  what  should  we  read  tonight  ,  my  love  ? ❜  she  questioned  ,  looking  down  to  the  boy  at  her  side  .  

GET ME EMO ABOUT MY MUSES ( accepting! )

Thinking about what Amma could’ve been if Adora’s abuse hadn’t turned her into a sociopath. Or, more specifically, if Amma could’ve been saved if Camille had been there all along.

All Camille really wants is to be loved in a healthy way, but really doesn’t know how to do that. Curry is the first person she ever trusts to love her properly, and who has even a shot of making up for what Camille’s mother did.

Once Shauna is being haunted, and Cody is free, she’s not really free. Almost immediately Shauna finds out about Cody and gets in contact with her, and Cody is dragged back into it all. And she’s kept in it until she sacrifices herself for Shauna and the other girls after nearly two decades of trying to survive Mary.

How different Dakota makes herself after the massacre. Beforehand, she’s basically Elle Woods, if a little bitchier. Afterwards, she throws herself into the polar opposite of everything she used to like because she feels like so much of herself died that night with her friends.

In her canon, at every turn Edith has felt betrayed by people she trusts. Her brother promised to always be there for her and he succumbs to The Rot, the ‘doctor’ that was meant to save her ends up using her as a lab rat and nearly as a freak show display. Clara is the only person who doesn’t betray her, and Edith sacrifices herself for her in the prison once they’re finally caught, by insisting she kidnapped Clara and getting a death sentence for it. Even if Clara saves her in the end.

Evelyn is always so close to having the life she wants with Celia, but always gets in her own way with her fear of losing everything until it’s nearly too late. She lives to be nearly 90, but only has 10 years with the love of her life.

The Movie Ginny Betrayal. Jk jk we don’t talk about that here. No, really, what fucks me up is how everyone brushes off that Ginny was literally possessed by Voldemort as an 11 year old. Like, for a year people kind of distance themselves and don’t trust her, but then she gets popular and everyone just forgets. But she doesn’t, it haunts her, and when she realizes even Harry forgot what she went through, it breaks her heart.

Josie spent YEARS hiding her actual career and her life from Gene, and went to great lengths to keep him and the girls safe. She sacrificed a lot, almost including herself several times over, and when he finds out the truth he doesn’t give her a chance to explain, just leaves.

When Lara ‘retires’ from tomb raiding and fighting Trinity, her mental scars and PTSD won’t just turn off. She almost died countless times, she’s lost friends, she’s been attacked by men and animals alike. She’ll carry that shit with her forever even if she sticks to an office the rest of her life.

Because Luke is a drug addict, Nell’s ‘hallucinations’ and nightmares are written off as drug reactions. She never gets taken very seriously, and then Steven goes and writes a book about it as if he believed it all, and it’s like two betrayals at once because not only did he not believe her, he made money off pretending to see what she did.

When Nathan confessed that Mark was going to drug her, Rachel thought it was her best option, to disappear and become a legend instead of living a regular, boring life and dealing with the consequences of her actions. If she’d had someone she trusted to turn to, she could have probably been convinced that there was a better future out there for her if she could get through this.

                 she  cleans  those  scarlet  droplets  from  the  porcelain  sink  as  hugh  walks  away  ,  knuckles  bandaged  and  foul  language  murmured  beneath  his  breath  .  he  will  heal  ,  he  isn’t  her  concern  .  she’s  more  worried  about  the  boy  had  been  there  to  witness  it  .  she  seeks  out  her  son  with  quiet  footsteps  ,  hands  shoved  deep  into  pockets  .  a  sympathetic  smile  lights  her  lips  when  she  finally  finds  him  in  his  bedroom  .  ❛  an  eventful  day  ,  huh  ?  ❜  she  questions  ,  interrupting  the  silence  with  her  quiet  whisper  .  ❛  you  okay  ,  love  ? ❜

THANK YOU 🙏🏻🥺🥺🥺 SYD!!! ILY ILY ILY!!!!!! IT WAS GOOD!! I HAD A LOT OF PEOPLE WISH ME HAPPY BIRTHDAY (more than i expected) AND MY HUSBAND MADE ME A VERY YUMMY STEAK AND ZUCCHINI DINNER

       you always distanced yourself from steve.  because steve is a dick.  but it’s getting tiring reminding yourself of that every moment of the day.  you always distanced yourself from steve because he never got it  —  the book’s just a fucking farce:  a recollection of stories that aren’t just his to reminisce on,  and for a guy who doesn’t believe anything that happened in that house,  he’s real good at pretending he does.  but he pulls you in for a hug and you squirm out of it,  and he mentions the gloves,  and you just roll your eyes,  collect your royalty cheques,  and promise to call him on his birthday.

but neII  —  neII has this stupid fucking ability to bring them all together.  you say you’re busy:  you have a conference in boston on the fourth,  a development day on the twelfth,  and clients throughout the rest of the month.  and the next.  and the next.  but neII doesn’t take no for an answer.  this time,  you wish she didn’t try so goddamn hard.  if she didn’t,  you’d come willingly.  happily.  you’d take steve’s stupid fucking half - hug that you’re already trying to think about getting out of,  and you’d accept the way dad tries to touch you but you still draw away before he can,  and you’d even talk to Iuke without wanting to punch him.  (that’s not fair.  you know it.  but you’re still angry.)

and now you’re even angrier.  because neII was so fucking caught up that she didn’t think about what would happen to them.  because the last time you saw her,  she was desperate,  and you could feel it.  because she dragged you to the spot where her fucking husband died and asked you to touch,  and because she didn’t even listen  —  and you are so goddamn angry with her,  even when she’s dead,  and you can’t even fucking think properly  — 

this is a lot of fucks, but it’s all you feel.  you’re standing over her casket,  and you turn your mind to the fact that shirIey made her look…  dead.  pretty,  but she’s fucking dead,  shirI.  no amount of blusher makes up for that.  when steve comes up beside you,  your eyes go to your half - full glass of straight vodka and think it’s time you refill.  but he doesn’t let you.

                       i wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

you empathise with him.  god - fucking - dammit,  you do.  because the last time you both saw her alive,  you argued.  steve,  over his book.  you,  over neII’s irrational behaviour.  (you should’ve stayed.  you know you should’ve stayed.  you should’ve talked her into coming home  —  moving in with you in shirI’s guest house.  or doing something.  anything.  fuck,  why didn’t you fucking do anything?!)

              “i know.”   you know.  you weren’t either.  and the more you stare down at her face,  and the more you try and see any kind of movement in her chest  (a slight heave.  a stutter.  any rise or fall or  —  anything)  the more that ball in your throat squeezes and the less you can breathe.  so you stand.  silent.  you keep your hands tucked in close to your body and you don’t offer so much as a touch to your brother’s shoulder to reassure him.  you don’t offer any psychologist advice because you’re not sure if he’ll roll his eyes or not,  and you slug the rest of your drink.

                       “fuck this.  i need vodka.”