legsrlong

[legsrlong]

i think ruth has an older sister and they were pretty close, but when ruth had lee that’s when she started to isolate herself from her (and everyone) - even before dale i believe. and sure, she’d talk to co-workers when she had to, but any mention of their kids playing with lee was instantly shut down or avoided. i can picture it in my head: ruth becoming agitated but trying to keep her calm while another nurse talks about all the fun their child and lee can have together while ruth thinks of what could go wrong.

i sort of rambled there but basic summary is that i think ruth was always overprotective of lee, and dale’s appearance really heightened that

[legsrlong]

dale 😇

non pixelated ver under the cut

[legsrlong]

Wandering around the house, I realised it was already 2pm and I hadn’t heard the routine shuffling from the kitchen. He would regularly come up at the same times everyday - 6am and 6pm - and would rummage in the cupboards, always ending up grumbling while making the usual black coffee. When I would think the early morning car trips were for groceries and such for himself, the flimsy plastic bags that rattled as he trudged through the house were always filled with different paints and tools, obviously for his work that he religiously dedicated himself to, and dragged me down into.

Perhaps he had been up and I hadn’t noticed, or he had taken himself out for a day or two for once but… without thought, I brewed up a coffee and slowly crept downstairs, on edge as I was unsure whether or not I would find him lurking about. The stairs creaked, telling me to turn around and run, but it was too late when I was quickly stopped in my tracks as I found him, hunched over at his worktable - and the air became thick, the basement eerily silent. A pit swelled in my stomach and a lump stuck itself in my throat.

He glanced at me slightly, jaw clenched, hair sticking to his forehead, before clearing his throat and returning to closely examining a doll’s head while carefully dabbing his paintbrush in a soft pink. Every movement so tense and cold. Each breath sharp with apathy. My mouth agape, I was snapped out of my frozen state and I became fully aware of what was actually going on. Maybe it was how this much time away from the hospital has started to impact me strangely or how little I’ve seen my daughter or anyone else for that matter, but it struck me that I was caring for this man. This man who destroyed mine and my daughter’s lives. This parasite that fed off of our vulnerability, continuing to silently eat away at me, each bit by little bit as his lust for blood stains my hands - each scream, each cry, always seeps through, unable to be concealed by my gentle soap and water. I shuddered and placed the mug on the shelf beside me, before stumbling up the stairs, my head woolly as I fell onto the sofa, eyes glued on the phone that lay beside the television, yearning for my daughter’s call, hoping it could serve as a comfort for my disturbing act. Reassurance that I hadn’t fully turned my back on her. I never left the sofa for the rest of that day. Not until he stood in the doorway and muttered something before lumbering out the door into the cold darkness of the late night, as I stared down at the vomit that slowly began to bleed into the carpet.

[legsrlong]

random longlegs headcanons

Dale

tried fake nails once - never again.

would violently kick a vending machine if his item didn’t drop

+ is overall very aggressive. if someone were to interrupt him while busy with his dolls or something, he’ll shout and bang his fist on the table

extremely competitive when playing board games

complains about his knee problems 24/7

adding onto the last one, he’s the biggest complainer overall. if he bashes his hip on a door frame, he’ll be talking about it for the next 3 days

Lee

i think everyone can agree that she spent the majority of her childhood mute

adds milk to her coffee on occasion as a “treat because it adds flavour/sweetness” (she doesn’t know that coffee syrups exist)

is always way too early to meet-ups, im talking at least 30 mins

on sunday nights, she plans every outfit for the week ahead

makes misfitting facial expressions- for example: frowning at a muffin that she’s thoroughly enjoying

Ruth

has a cupboard full of different types of tea

always does the newspaper crossword

hates trash tv but never switches the channel when it comes on

finds herself making a drink or snack for dale after many years of him being downstairs

before dale, she would change up the style of the kitchen/living room every few months

[legsrlong]

1974

It was January and everywhere was covered in a thick blanket of snow, the air misty with a slight crisp to it, lightly nipping at my arms even while in my room. I listened to the faint hum of my mom’s car, sat colouring in my own little world. I would often find myself comforted by the solitude that came with a mom who is a nurse and a father who left the picture years ago. Mom always left for work in a turbulent rush then wouldn’t return until hours beyond her shift while I had spent the day floating around the house like a little ghost, cocooned by my imagination and miscellaneous chores around the house. I never resented her for it, I grew to live fairly comfortably with the silence. It was bittersweet.

As the engine of the car outside switched off, interrupting my scribbling, I had realised that mom wasn’t running errands or making sure the car’s engine didn’t freeze up, she was shovelling snow.

Peeking out my window I noticed an unfamiliar Chevrolet Caprice on the road, perplexing me as no one ever visited me or my mom, not even family. But the sight of this car had me stuck in an entranced state, as if it was calling my name, beckoning me forward, telling me to creep downstairs, put on my little red jacket and grab my camera before slinking outside to investigate. Every move I made, every thought I formed was being done for me by… something.

The snow crunched beneath my boots while the birds trilled away among the hazy trees, and this car, this stranger, stood out no more than the delicate snow and contorted trees and seemed to have an empty drivers’ seat, but a passenger seat occupied by a shadow: it was this that was calling my name. This that pulled me by invisible rope. Not the car or the person driving it.

This bizarre presence had a benign atmosphere to it, welcoming me with its dark arms, casting a warm layer of protection around me. Edging closer to make sense of what this is, “Cuckoo!” a soft voice called from behind me.

A white figure disappeared behind my house.

Confused yet mesmerised, I followed this figure, glancing around the trees as I tried to find where this laboured breathing was originating from. I wasn’t scared or nervous. I peered behind trees, no one. Behind the sheds, no one. Back at the front of my house, no one. I sighed and turned to return inside thinking I had just resorted to my imagination again when a lanky pale man appeared before me with his mouth agape. The air became disturbingly light as his uncanny expression faded into a gentle smile, before opening his botched lips once more, “There she is! The almost birthday girl…” I stared blankly. Although intrigued, I didn’t question how he knew me or even that it was my birthday soon. I stared and waited for him to continue. “Oh, but… it seems I wore my long legs today… What happens if I…” he giggled and whined through heavy breaths, before bending down as quick as a wolf pouncing on his prey to allow me a better look at his butchered and puffy face, smiling the cheesiest smile that even a cartoon wouldn’t sport.

I didn’t speak, nor did I smile back, I simply just snapped a photo as he chuckled and smiled, still so lost as to who this man is, and why he seems so familiar.