𝓌ₐₙₜ ₗₒₙ𝓰ₑᵣ !

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.      

@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. 

@gardenofsnakess​   :   “if i wanted help, i would have asked.”

            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.

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.   

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.

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.