#shes the only living preaker and shes RUINING IT

[villanevehaus]

this is kind of random but this has been nagging at me for a little while and i havent been able to format it into like a question?? like i dont even know what my own question about it is but i know theres an answer you know?? but i was wondering if you had thoughts on the last names in sharp objects?? i always thought it was interesting that camille was the only preaker left that wasnt dead, and adora treats her like a stranger even though marian was also a preaker.

[contd] maybe im crazy. but i always thought adoras adherence to the realistic but unrealistic and kind of eerie social construct that literally drowns every woman in wind gap was an integral part in her character that i couldnt quite piece together in a way that clicked. like camilles identity as a preaker vs her mothers as a crellin but also most importantly as something other than a preaker is just hmmmm and i wondered if u noticed that too and/or had thoughts on it ?? - letterboxdanon

OGH yeas i have sooooo many thoughts as you are about to see by the length of this response because camille IS the only preaker!!! alan is both marian and amma's father, but he's just camille's step-father. preaker is adora's maiden name and since she had camille out of wedlock as a 17(18?)yo kid, it's not even the last name of camille's father- but then adora left all that embarrassment behind by marrying alan (still in her teens, also!!! alan sucks!!!) and having marian a few years later. adora cut herself from the preaker name through marriage, a normal thing that often changes women's names, had a child with that new name, and gained a cleaner social standing from doing both. idk why they didn't just erase the preaker name entirely by making camille a crellin but i think alan is so old fashioned that he'd be against giving a child that's not His his last name. maybe it just made it that much easier to hate camille, who knows.

iirc also adoras parents were sooooo pissed about her getting knocked up by some dude as a teen they both died within like a year of camille being born as well?? so adora really did a speedrun from child to mother to orphan to wife to mother of two, and i think for her having a new name and a new child with that new name was a good way to reinvent herself and her image- and isnt windgap aaallllllllllllll about image? changing her name while also continuing to reap the benefits of Preaker Hog Farm TM also means that she gets to almost fossilize?? the name and her family's empire/fortune, bc she still gets money from that.

so like! she treats camille as a stain on the preaker name/line because she literally is one in adora's eyes: she was a mistake, she killed the only other living preakers while retaining the legacy connected to the name- undeservedly- she doesn't adhere to windgap rules (or adora's rules, which are the same honestly), she mourns her sister too loudly, and then she leaves. but its fine, thank god she left, bc now adora gets to continue to reinvent herself and her image with amma and anne nash and natalie keene: adora crellin, that fine woman with her beautiful house and her beautiful roses and her beautiful daughter- bless her heart for helping those girls, especially after losing her first.

and then, camille shows up.

camille is a walking talking violation of adora's reinventation- she's a reminder to adora of her accidental pregnancy, camille's father, the deaths of her parents, the loss of marian- but she's also a reminder to the entire town of wind gap that adora used to be a preaker, too.

[ellabsweet]

[*ੈ✩] 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 • 𝐄.𝐖

synopsis: in which the new girl in jackson attempts to easen her way into ellie williams’ heart after a tragedy

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warning: set in an alternative universe where ellie stays in jackson after joel’s death though she is dealing with severe depression, self harm and health issues, mentions of alcohol and drug usage

authors note: this is very much a sensitive topic very self harm focused as i made this heavily based on john keating and camille preaker from ‘sharp objects’ so please do not read if you are sensitive on this subject!

Ellie had grown so familiar to nightmares they barely stole a shiver out of her, the ever present foul feeling of poison building up at the pit of her stomach a mere proof of survival, tickle of life and its horror burned into her body as other things had been before.

But bad dreams, those were different. Skilled knives of the subconscious, aching for blood in the format of Joel’s aged face. I think you’d be a dog, kiddo, he stated simply shutting down her coyote self image. Loyal, he said.

Ellie had been a hound, certainly. Stared at herself through the mirror to face a rotten animal, monster-like dog with canines falling out of its gums, a beast not worth loving back. Her eyes had grown so sunken their green turned hazel, hair too long, existence bloodshot. The kids called her Scary Ellie. The bitter drunk at a dimly lit corner. The frozen in time and space, left to gather dust in greyer memories.

She glances at her bitten arm under the shower, traces the tattoo with water drops at the edges of her finger, twists the knob into closing the reservoir and drags a knife across the bite. She wants it out, needs it out. Joel’s death was etched into her skin and she needed more than a tattoo to rid herself of those thoughts. The tiled floor quickly filled with red. Part of her wished the reopening of wounds would finally turn her. Wished they’d have to shoot her in the head. She passed out soon enough.

“Morning, sunshine” You said softly, the banging in Ellie’s had from the fall still insufferable as she adjusted her eyes to the newly bright lightning of the infirmary, a girl she has only once seen before standing above her, wrapping her arm in lightly stained white gauze “You had us worried there for a moment”

Jackson’s people baptised you flower, from the gentleness and gardens and all throughout personification of a love practice like bouquets. There had been whispers at first, once you arrived a deer in headlights bloody, shaken and wide-eyed, how someone so careful could’ve survived so long alone in this new world that set out to kill all remnants of good fragility. The mystery of your ever so long sleeves even in summer and odd screams midst the night that carried your history were to remain hidden from the general public. But Ellie knew, because she had fucked you. She had felt it underneath her fingertips, and she had dismissed it.

She had been exhausted that night, two years since Joel had been killed, she wanted a distraction and you were breathtaking and lively in a way that inspired hatred inside her and Ellie wished to ruin it, to dig her fingers inside you and stain you with her own suffering, have your sunshine kneeled and begging, taste you senseless. It had been the opposite. You had dragged out softness out of her touch, so foreign it quickened her own heartbeat. Somewhere in between hunger filled kisses it had dawned on her you could not be corrupted, as though your souls found similar suffering within eachother in a perfect puzzle fit. Ellie thanked the broken lights for masking the tears that escaped her from your loving touch. She was tired and God, you were comfortable and you held her. There was no energy to fight back, secretly she did not want to. The next day she pretended you did not exist– you had never stopped waving her good mornings.

“What happened?” Ellie croaked out, throat dry.

“You know what happened, Els” You sighed and she cringed in response, defensive, sitting up on the bed before her body was fully ready to do so, head reprimending the feeling.

“I’m not some sort of suicidal if that’s what y-“

“You don’t have to hide from me” She scoffed in response, opening her mouth for a snarky retort that could not be left as you continued “Let me take care of you”

“It’s rotten work”

“Not for me. Not if it’s you.”

She rolled up your sleeve and squinted her eyes, an attempt to comprehend the lines that painted your skin as an artist examined a painting’s brush strokes, the self consciousness of the situation eating up at your insides, forming an emptiness pit. Ellie was adamant on her hold, a searching, sweet look plastered across her eyes so unfamiliar to you. It was exhausting to hide as you did, over a decade devoted to concealment, never once an interaction where you hadn’t anticipated which scar would reveal itself and blow your cover to a friend, a fellow patroller, even the damn clickers who surely had no conscience to mind. It had dawned on you that freedom looked a lot like Ellie’s gaze. There was no need to hide from someone courting oblivion as ardently as you were.

She rolled up your other sleeve, and there sat your exposed arms, so naked it made you breathless. The intimacy of it threatened your composure with a quivering a lip, both afraid to meet her eye and eagerly searching it for a reaction, met with a tenderness that contrasted the rough exterior she held.

“No one’s seen this?” Ellie asks quietly and you shook your head, the lump in your throat too strong to allow a proper answer, she accepts it regardless.

Ellie sucks in a sharp breath and stretches her arms above her head, removing the long sleeved fabric that covered her torso to reveal a now wretched forearm tattoo, ferns and a moth artistically arranged and destroyed by a needle and thread attempt to reconstruct it from her hurt. She faced you once before taking hold of your soft hand in her calloused ones and patting it down the ink, a feeling of high relief beneath your fingertips unveil the existence of scarring beneath. You gasp with a chuckle of understanding.

“You’re beautiful” you mutter before lowering your head to her reach, planting a soft kiss atop the centre of the tattoo, it is Ellie’s turn to be surprised. She opens her mouth as though you did not understand her, ready to claim herself a failure at the top of her lungs like a confession for an absolution she felt unworthy of, but the words failed to come out as you continued your venture in softness and lips “you are worth something as you are”

Ellie’s eyes swelled in tears, free falling out of control for the first time in a century, your warmth had given her a strange gift, the agony coming to surface past her protective walls. She felt her skin on fire, thought this to be the closest anyone could come to raw, took it upon herself to return you the favour, pushed your sleeves further up, kissed you in the middle of broken.

“I see you too” she said, running her fingers over the scars until you got a chill of goosebumps “Let me see it all”

Ellie pulled your shirt over your head as you sat still like an obedient child, wanting desperately to be praised for your newly found openness. Eased off yours shoes and socks, pulled down your slacks, and once only in a bra and panties, shivers covered your body in the frosty room, the air conditioner blasting a chill over me. Ellie pulled back the infirmary covers, motioned for you to climb in, and you did, feeling feverish and frozen all at once.

Her hands ran all over you, and you allowed them to, reaching your back, your breasts, thighs, shoulders. Her tongue in your mouth, down your neck, over your nipples, between your legs, then back to your mouth, you tasted yourself on her lips.

You both felt exorcised.

[enheriter]

[ jacob anderson, he/him, cisgender man ] — was that ALOYSIUS PONSONBY? the THIRTY-ONE year old is the DUKE of OXFORD, how exciting to see them this season! rumors have it they are EXPRESSIVE and PRODIGIOUS, but i’ve heard they are MELANCHOLIC and LETHARGIC as well — maybe that’s why they’ve been called the VIRTUOSO. I have even heard that HE PAYS OFF NEWSPAPERS TO WRITE ABOUT HIS WORKS — only time will tell.

QUICK FACTS.

NAME:  aloysius  weatherall  ponsonby  NICKNAME:  aloysius  AGE:  thirty-one  PLACE OF BIRTH:  oxford,  england    NATIONALITY:  british  GENDER:  cisgender  man  PRONOUNS:  he/him  ORIENTATION:  bisexual  RELIGION:  anglican  PARENTS:  erskine  st.  clair  ponsonby  (  duke  of  oxford  )  &  felicity  prudence    (  duchess  of  oxford  )   LANGUAGES:  english,  french  (  fluent  )  german,  italian  (  conversational  )  spanish  (  basic  )  EDUCATION:  oxford  university  OCCUPATION:  duke,    aka none,    aka  amateur composer  HOBBIES:  music,  opera,  travelling,  art,  being rich,  gambling   LABEL  the  virtuoso

PARALLELS  

asuka  langley  (  neon  genesis  evangelion  )    camille  preaker  (  sharp  objects  )    lestat  de  lioncourt  (  interview  with  the  vampire  )    sherlock  holmes  (  arthur  conan  doyle  )

HISTORY.

tl;dr  stage mom wreaks havoc on her child’s life and said child continues doing what he’s always been told to do because there is literally.  nothing else. 

aka  asuka  langley  if  she  was  an  industry  plant  tw   for  ableism,  mental health issues,  unhealthy  familial  dynamics,  parental  death

sometimes  life  unravels  in  but  a  moment;    sometimes  life  unravels  through  a  slow  decay  charted  over  the  course  of  a  lifetime.    your  father  was  the  first,    your  mother  the  second:    you  will  never  know  the  details,    but  you  slowly  come  to  learn    —    through  hints,    through  riddles,    through  something  that  beats  in  the  hollow  of  your  chest    —    that  there  is  a  sickness  running  thick  in  your  blood,    a  sickness  that  took  your  father  away  from  you  for  your  safety  and  made  your  mother  the  only  parental  figure  you’ve  ever  known,    a  sickness  that  will  one  day  rear  its  ugly  head    (  so  your  mother  says  )    and  ruin  everything  that  you’ve  come  to  know.

it  is  difficult  to  live  life  as  a  curse,    but  you  do.    it  is  difficult  to  live  life  as  something  closer  to  a  burden  than  an  heir,    but  you  do.    father  is  a  figure  who  convalesces  in  seaside  towns  where  the  air  might  do  him  some  good,    a  summertime  figure  whose  face  grows  stranger  with  every  passing  of  the  year,    until  one  day  you  come  to  him  in  his  chair    —    and  he  is  talking,    as  he  always  does,    about    THE  MUSIC  DO  YOU  HEAR  IT    —    and  you  realise  that  you  don’t  know  this  man  at  all.    that  perhaps  you  never  did.    that  perhaps  the  man  whom  your  mother  says  you  are  a  reflection  of  is  but  a  husk  of  flesh  covering  up  void.    and  if  you’re  his  reflection,    then  what  does  that  make  you?

your  mother  does  nothing  so  uncouth  as  to  ban    THE  MUSIC    in  your  house.    her  cruelty  runs  far  stronger,    far  wiser:    she  makes  you  learn  it  under  the  auspices  of  the  finest  tutors,    the  greatest  musicians.    you  cannot  help  but  think  perhaps  she  is  fixing  your  father  through  you,    but  you  do  not  mind  it.    maybe  you’d  try  to  fix  your  father  as  well,    but  all  you  really  want  to  do  is  to  sit  besides  him  while  he  looks  towards  the  shore  and  asks  you    DO  YOU  HEAR  IT    tells  you    IT  IS  EVERYWHERE    and  you  will  look  at  the  horizon.    you  will  feel  the  wind  in  your  hair.    you  will  come  to  think  that  maybe  your  mother’s  right,    that  your  father’s  sickness  is  in  you,    because  this  is  the  moment  you  will  realise:    IT  IS  EVERYWHERE.

(    you  just  don’t  know  what  it  is.  )

but  where  your  father  fears  its  presence  and  where  your  mother  ignores  it  and  pretends  everything  is  alright,    you  simply  let  it  dwell  where  it  dwells.    and  it  dwells  in  this:    when  you  hear  mozart’s  lacrimosa  for  the  first  time,    you  cry  a  little  because  you  think  nothing  could  ever  possibly  compare.    that  life  is  but  a  lead-up  to  this:    you,    sitting  in  your  darkly  lit  box,    listening  to  a  choir  of  singers  lament  for  a  guilty  man,    asking  begging  pleading    have  mercy  on  him  have  mercy  on  him  grant  him  eternal  rest.      and  then  there’s  a  message  the  very  next  morning  telling  you  and  your  mother  that  your  father  died  in  his  sleep,    the  very  same  moment  tears  were  flowing  down  your  cheeks  at  the  idea  of  absolution.    you  do  not  believe  as  he  did,    but  in  that  moment  you  send  out  a  thought.    a  prayer.    do  you  hear  it  now,    father?

this,    the  greatest  tragedy  of  your  life:    you  do  not  hear    THE    MUSIC    the  same  way  your  father  did    —    something  you  have  to  be  thankful  for,    according  to  your  mother,    and  you  do  as  your  mother  commands    —    but  you  do  not  hear  music  the  same  way  all  those  expensive  tutors  and  practitioners  and  helpful  assistants  ever  do.    this,    the  realisation  you  had  to  face  sometime  during  your  early  twenties,    when  your  mother  smiles  at  you  for  the  first  time  you  remember  her  doing,    and  it’s  because  she’s  finally  going  to  be  rid  of  you:    you  do  not  have  the  same  passion,    not  really.    and  when  i  say  passion,    i  mean  passion  for  just  about  everything.    not  just  music.    not  just  composing.    your  father.    his  life.    your  life.    life  itself.   

think  this  once,    and  then  never  again:    you  lack  a  passion  for  life.

still  the  conductor  motions  for  the  orchestra  to  play  on,    and  lack  of  passion  isn’t  really  a  reason  to  stop  doing  what  you’re  good  at.    and  what  is  important  here  is  that  you  absolutely  cannot  think  that  thought  again,    because  if  you  do  then  what  is  this  all  for?    a  stray  note  risks  losing  the  structure,    and  a  stray  thought  risks  the  collapse  of  everything:    your  personhood,    your  history,    your  entire  being.

you  are  good  at  what  you  do.    the  notes  swells  to  a  crescendo.    the  climax  is  coming.    it’s  just  right  around  the  corner.    you  cannot  stop.    if  you  stop,    then  you  are  lost.    if  you  are  lost,    then  you  are  just  like  your  father.    are  you  ready  to  face  the  music?

WANTED  CONNECTIONS.

fans  of  his  works  which  would  be  funny  as  hell  bc  he  couldn’t  possibly  care  less  about  it  but.  hey.  that’s  all  he  has  to  show  for  his  whole  entire  personhood  so.  thanks  for  your  appreciation!  and  in  complete  reverse  of  this:    people  who  know  he’s  an  industry  plant  and  like.    kinda  make  fun  of  him  for  it?    

broken  betrothals  aplenty.    i  think  he’s  developed  a  sort  of  reputation  as  being  a  tortured  artist  (ZZZZZ  BORING!)  over  the  years:    taciturn,    unpredictable.    these  broken  betrothals  have  definitely  helped  in  popularising  this  ‘image’    (read:  he’s  just  depressed  lmao)    but  have  also  definitely  Not  helped  his  reputation  as  being  a  dependable  ‘match’

fellow  patrons/appreciators/makers  of  the  arts,    both  performing  arts  and  like.    paintings  and  stuff  ig.    he  doesn’t  have  any  siblings  to  mind  the  financial  cares  of,    so  he  just  kinda  throws  his  money  at  art.    he  technically  has  a  growing  private  collection  of.  Stuff  at  home.  exact  details  tbd  but  it’s  probably  garish  as  HELLLLL

someone  he  went  on  a  grand  tour  of  europe  with!    or  maybe  not  even  that  but  people  he  just  kinda  bumps  shoulders  with  in  whatever  swiss  alpine  spa  towns  there  are  in  the  world.

fellow  ‘intellectuals’  ig??  he’s  oxford-educated  bc  duh  home  pride  lezzgo  but  also  gotta  be  real:    he  cares  less  abt  the  discussions  abt  ‘the  true,  the  good,  and  the  beautiful’  and  more  about  GAMBLING

people  he’s  currently  being  matched  with  in  the  gossip  rags  of  19c  england.    or  like  even  just  the  grapevine  lmfao.    could  be  as  grounded  in  truth  or  as  groundless  as  we  want  it  to  be,    but  it’ll  be  fun  to  play  out  a  sort  of  comedy  of  errors  for  this  whole  shebang.    bonus  points  if  this  actually  ends  up  with  them  being  actually  betrothed.    bonus  points  if  they’re  actually.    gasp.    in  love  w  each  other

people  he  offended  bc  he  is  Annoyingly  Rich  n  privileged  n  he’s  oxford  educated  so  he  thinks  he’s  automatically  the  Smartest  Person  in  any  given  room  (unless  that  room  is  filled  with  oxford  graduates  as  well)  and  he.    kinda  but  not  really.    doesn’t  have  a  filter?    mainly  bc  his  privilege  afforded  him  the  luxury  of  not  rlly  filtering  his  thoughts  lmao

[philomenafm]

(NATALIA DYER, DEMI GIRL) - Have you seen PHILOMENA CARMICHAEL? PHILLY is in HER/THEIR SOPHOMORE year. The WILDLIFE SCIENCE MAJOR is 20 years old & is a TAURUS. People say SHE/THEY are WHIMSICAL, PATIENT, APATHETIC and UNPREDICTABLE. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE CONCEALED MURDEROUS EVIDENCE  (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

ive done sm switches bt. she is the one. she is the one i love. trust me. ples. this is an old intro n im frankly. too lazy 2 read it bt. i love her a lot shes very good please like her

TW CANCER, TRAUMA, DEPERSONALIZATION / DEREALIZATION DISORDER ( ALT. DISSOCIATION ), DEATH, DECAY, MAGGOTS.

aesthetic.

wildflowers in your hair and bare feet against moss, binoculars and maps, madonna beating out of half-dead speakers in a half-dead van, whipping wind, jumping off cliffs and rolling down hills, a bandaid wrapped around each finger, cryptic bumper stickers and cryptids in the woods, facing the sun and letting the rays hit you, counting stars late into the night, dancing naked in the woods with nothing but fire to light your way, mismatched socks and lucky ribbons, hoarding a box of special treasures, shoplifting and diner-dashing, bleach against roots, pink sweaters paired with ripped fishnets and slip dresses with knock off uggs, willingly wearing crocs, glitter stickers, fungi and feeling one with them, lying down and decomposing, they’ll find us in a week. they’ll find us in a week.

basics.

full name: philomena brontë carmichael

nickname(s): philly, phil, etc.

b.o.d. - april 20th, 2000

label(s): the amaranth, the halycon, the neophyte, the wanderer, etc. etc.

height: 5′4″

hometown: woodside, ca

sexuality: demisexual

pinterest ( & her family pinterest b/c they’re my most developed family uwu)

stats

favorite song: wonderfully bizarre, bendigo fletcher / we can be defined by the things we want / i’ll be a life full of free haircuts from the one that i love / we’ll collect fallen out teeth in a candy jar / mice for the backyard peregrine falcon reservation.

background.

a middle child belonging to christopher and imogen carmichael - two stanford professors. christopher specialized in british literature whilst imogen specialized in the classics. hence the name.

the order of siblings goes as such: lysander, elektra, juno, philomena, and twins orion & valora. the deal was that everybody had a greek (or in juno’s case, roman) first name and a middle name inspired by a piece of british literature circa 1800s and under. a family of nerds, if you will.

so, clearly - right off the bat, their parents are … eccentric. they’re both in love with their respected topic, and with each other, and with their kids. the carmichael family is a happy family.

they each have their own quirks and whatnot - though philly’s always been particularly dreamy - even as a child, she’d spend hours watching clouds or caterpillars or the leaves blow in the wind rather than play with other kids. she wasn’t a shy kid - she just had her own interests.

hardship doesn’t hit the family until philomena is five and starts having splitting headaches. they’re slow at first - but as soon as she’s seeing spots and unable to walk in a straight line, doctor appointments are made.

it doesn’t take long for them to discover the tumor, though the official diagnosis of malignant ependymoma comes a month later.

it’s grade ii but slow-moving, small enough to not be as much of a threat as worried, but big enough where removal is necessary. philomena earns a scar and brings it in for show-and-tell. for two months afterwards, philly’s at radiotherapy monday through friday.

they’re lucky - philomena’s considered cancer-free by the next year. she’s babied at first - handled delicately, as if she could break if touched - but with five other children … it doesn’t last for too long.

and life continues as normal.

her personality doesn’t shift much over the next few years - she’s awfully independent for a kid, and awfully quiet - when she speaks it’s about faeries and bigfoot, about how the sky is so blue and if you listen quietly, you can hear the leaves whisper their secrets to each other. this is not odd.

she’s close to all her siblings, but she idolizes her older sister - elektra. elektra’s six years older and dyes her hair whatever colors she wants. elektra bought a knife off a seedy guy downtown. elektra threw away all of her heels and renounced god. elektra is god. her music is loud but it’s not heavy - it’s florence and the machine.

they’re opposites - elektra’s boisterous and feels loudly, philomena’s softer and feels…less. when elektra sneaks out, philomena keeps watch. they are a duo.

philomena is smart - but she’s fifteen and hates school. hates sitting inside all day. hates the same routine - day after day - it’s all the same. her parents’ routine is the same, philly feels contained and she wants to live.

elektra’s twenty-one and just bought a brand new spanking (used but not falling apart) 19-something volkswagen … van - using her entire savings account. she says she’s tired of routine, she’s leaving the next day.

naturally, philomena stows away in the back and isn’t discovered until they’re two states away and she’s got to pee. elektra nearly crashes the van in shock.

it’s an argument - philomena vs. elektra, then them vs. their parents, then their parents vs. the school, the state - it’s an ordeal. philomena switches to an online program in the end.

it hurts christopher and imogen - lysander’s not having any of their nonsense, juno’s betrayed and alone - the twins are twins. in the end, it’s alright. the carmichael family is a happy family.

philomena and elektra take their time - it’s not a road trip, it’s their new life, permanently on the road. they stop and explore often - they do odd jobs in whatever town they settle in. they dine-n-dash, they shoplift. they survive in their own way.

during particularly desperate times, they two resorted to identity theft & credit fraud - getting away with it only by ditching the cards once they’ve made it out of state.

she drops out of high school officially when she’s seventeen - they have to drive all the way back to california to deal with the wrath of their parents and to deal with paperwork, but it’s done. philomena doesn’t know what path she wants in life - but it’s not that.

it’s during this time that the episodes occur - philomena’s outside her body, philomena’s wrapped in cotton, her memories are not her own. she’s looking in the mirror and she doesn’t recognize herself. they take shelter in a city for six months, long enough for her brand spankin’ new therapist to figure out what’s wrong with her. she’s diagnosed with depersonalization / derealization disorder - they think it’s stress. philomena doesn’t get stressed. they think it’s trauma. she laughs - she never laughs.

there is trauma though, deep-rooted but somewhere inside - you just have to look for it.

you. just. have. to. look. for. it. look for it. look for it. look for it look for it look -

you were ten and she was thirteen, an off-trail hike in familiar woods in a familiar town, safe and familiar. it was your idea, to stray from the carved out paths, down creeks and up hills and round, and round again. you’re the one who spotted the scarf first, sticking up from the dirt and dancing in the wind like the beginning of reincarnation. it was not reincarnation, it was discovery. it was ruin. with curiosity drawn, you skidded down - with compliance, followed juno, followed your sister - clumsy in her steps and tumbling down quicker than you. you saw the corpse, but juno felt it. decaying flesh and maggot.

and she left juno, just like that - just five years later, when juno had finally gone to the end of her wits. philly up and left. abandoned her.

philomena and elektra leave the city after that therapy session. they do not return. she’s always been good at hiding her secrets.

three years later and her parents want philly to have a higher education - desperate for it, really - worried for her future. it’s a battle that she loses, getting her ged and applying to a local college in florida in shameful compliance.

they’re there for a year until philly gets (expectantly) expelled from the community college & the two of them are banned from the town they’d residing in up until that point. they don’t talk about it - but boy, was it one hell of a time.

they found refuge in preaker, a town that seemed to suit them well - it suited elektra’s desire to travel up and down the east coast, and it intrigued philomena enough to the point of her being content with staying. soon after, philly officially transferred to yates for her freshmen spring term & theyve been here since.

(whenever anna brings cillian uh. he’s in here too he’s been traveling w them fr like 3ish years. i just cannot rewrite atm KDSGLSDKLGKFGHLKSL bt hes here. n hes sexy. n we love him. bro3tp)

OH. hey yeah the secret. errmm. tht’s on cillian. philly just hid the evidence. no they didnt kill someone yes they did no they did not <3 yes

personality & facts.

she’s quiet but she’s confident - her voice sounds like rustling leaves, if leaves smoked a pack of cigarettes a day.

often underestimated - philly’s petite and looks like she’d fall over if a plastic bag blew too close to her. she’s independent - for the most part. elektra is the only person philly takes orders from.

has always been considered odd - weird, strange. still talks about the trees as if they’re listening, as if they’re old friends. she’s vague and doesn’t elaborate on the things she says.

believes in pretty much any superstition you throw her way. luck is very important to her. if you ask her if the earth is flat, she’ll say probably. believes strongly in bigfoot and the lochness monster. has personally seen aliens, and loves ghosts almost more than herself.

she can be amusing - whether you ‘get’ her or not, her outlook is often bright - she talks about the negatives the same way she talks about the positives. can be seen as naive or gullible, but she’s plenty smart. even if half of her education has come directly from google.

philly doesn’t laugh. a smile, yes - often, in fact - not always reaching her ears, or bearing teeth - but these are not indicators of her happiness. philly is consistently content. she thinks many things are funny - she still will not laugh.

her voice is often monotonous - she doesn’t sound dreary, she sounds far-away. her voice carries. her emotions are often unknown to others.

is apathetic in most situations. she’s hard to bother - she’s incredibly patient and enjoys the company of most - tolerates them at the very least. it’s hard for her to express her emotions, because she feels them so little that it’s very nearly not worth it. her affection is not verbal - it’s small touches and gestures of kindness, love in her own way.

is a fan of knock-knock jokes and bad puns. she won’t crack a smile while telling you them, nor does she expect you to laugh. she just enjoys them.

she owns a motorola razr covered in puffy stickers - hasn’t ever had a smartphone. she’s a fan of emoticons. her favorite is :o)

has a lot of bruises and scratches and scars - she’s often getting herself into pickles. there are always, at the very minimum, three bandaids on each hand.

she has insomnia, so she’s awake often. is often seen wandering town - even when she shouldn’t be, even when it might be dangerous. her intuition is delayed. when she does sleep - her dreams are vivid and fantastical.

keeps a box of memories - sentimental bits and pieces she’s picked up over the last few years. there are a lot of buttons and postcards, but any teeny tiny object will do.

her style changes every week - most, if not all, of her clothes are thrifted. one week she’s baby spice and the next she’s lydia deetz. she combines pieces from different styles often - she looks like a barbie clothed by a child. she feels most comfortable like this.

will either patch-up the clothes that get too worn or reuse them in some way. sometimes donates the clothes she gets tired off - isn’t minimalistic, but she’s learned to keep only a small amount of possessions.

the only consistency is her lucky ribbon - it’s pastel yellow and silky and as thin as a shoelace. she ties it onto her outfit of the day, everyday. if she loses it, she’s lost. elektra has a matching ribbon (& so does leo fowler eyes emoji)

has no problem with minor theft - she only takes bare minimum, puts herself and elektra first and that’s how it’s always been. she tries to be good while in preaker / yates - would hate to be forced out by mobs with torches and pitchforks

currently living in calloway while elektra stays in their van, florence - sometimes philly stays there during the weekends.

they used to live in motels on the occasion, the cheapest room, and more often than not they’d both go home with strangers for a comfier bed and a hotter shower.

it was a common occurrence - she didn’t sleep with them - but somehow, she weaseled her way into their homes anyway. has come out mostly unscathed, on most occasions. this has been a practice ever since they’ve been on the road.

really, truly - has not slept with anybody, had her first and only kiss at thirteen with a frog. this doesn’t bother her. edit: her first & only kisses hv been w leo fowler. this is important

will consume anything you put in front of her - isn’t picky.

listens to whatever they’ve picked up along the way but she likes instrumentals the best. her second favorite genre is 1990′s and 2000′s top hits. they’re nostalgic for her. third favorites? florence, of course. fleetwood mac. the bird and the bee.

loves storms - will go out in the rain and will risk her life for it.

owns a pair of roller-skates and is often skating rather than walking. unless she’s on grass - then she’s walking barefoot.

has many hobbies, and gets bored of them often. her favorite hobby is welding. she’s not certified.

also, juggling.

also, accordion.

the kind of girl who’ll do any job you give her. odd jobs are her favorite jobs. babysitting is her least favorite - but she does it anyway. has lost children before. have they ever been found? not by philly.

dyes her hair blonde often and cuts her own hair - bangs included - finds it cathartic, likes the itchiness of bleach.

everything she does is often in pursuit of feeling free, alive, and meaningful.

( like her frequent visits to the woods, late at night when the moon is high and full. it’s freeing to dance around a fire, stark naked in the cold. builds immunity )

comes and goes wherever she pleases, nothing & nobody can stop her. she knows to respect nature. exudes natural trust energy <3 dont know wht tht means but

the trust expands to animals as well, she has a certain knack for getting them to like her. has too many ‘pet’ rats that reside with her, alongside a baby raccoon & a few crow pals. has a new animal companion everyday, but she doesn’t contain them or force them to stay. edit: she hs a tabby cat named pail, now. named in honor of her mother, bucket.

leaves her window in calloway wide open because of this, because her window is conveniently right besides a tree with sturdy branches. good for animal smuggling, sneaking in and out, hiding, etc. etc. world is her oyster.

though her room in calloway is ??? frankly a mess ??? already ??? usually keeps most of her possessions in her memory box but she’s also turned her room into a mini labyrinth of knick-knacks. very cozy, but very nest-like. think of howl’s room from howl’s moving castle.

wanted connections.

how did you get in here ;; someone whose room she perhaps crashed at late at night, mysteriously. she refuses to explain where she’s come from. she’s gone before you wake. they could literally not know her at all she’s just sleeping halfway under their bed like <3 thank you <3

ma’am this is a wendys ;;  someone who sees her constantly <3 doing outlandish shit <3 bc lets b real. shes weird. shes a weirdo. why do u think she wears the same hat everyday. (she doesnt wear hats often) anyways. they probably dnt even like her? just think shes very strange?

im literally going to dissect you ;;  someone who. wants to figure out philly. pick at her brain. wear her shoes. kind of in the same category of above in this general like. ur fkn weird. bt they wna figure out why <3 they wna play therapist <3 jokes on u she hates therapists

liddle thief in the night ;; someone who has caught her stealing. or dining n dashing. either/or. perhaps both. she steals a lot :/

oh like. friends n stuff ;; of any closeness. ppl she talks 2 conspiracies with, ppl she goes on late night walks with, ppl she explores with, ppl she steals with, ppl she smokes with, etc. etc. ppl who bring her out to parties cos they like her funky little ways when she gets drunk n tries to climb atop everything <3 

thts nice. anyways ;; this is fr like. literally anything unrequited. philly doesnt like <3 a lot of ppl <3 In That Way. so its basically just. ur muse thinks shes very neat n she thinks ur muse is very neat bt platonically. she doesnt do hookups or anything n if she does i tend 2 like. run purely based off of chemistry even with. most of her connections in general.

uuhh. anything ;; HLKDGKSDLKGHLKSFDSHGKFD i nvr rly hv a lot of connections up fr philly bc shes like. a very unpredictable muse n i think its usually better to just. throw her in! n see wht happens! we cn still plot obv n come up w some fun things bt fr the most part shes very organic

[chandlerrosen]

♔ — uneasy is the head that wears the crown — ♔ 

introducing: chandler rosen as [ the tomboy ]

name: judith chandler rosen - has been going by chandler since she was six years olds, do not call her judith, i don’t think anyone even knows her name is judith at this point

age & date of birth: twenty-one, april 14, 1998 

gender & pronouns: demigirl, she/they

sexuality: bisexual

fc: diana silvers

character parallels: eve polastri [ killing eve ]; queen anne [ the favourite ]; jo march [ little women ]; jenny mellor [ an education ]; hamlet [ hamlet ]; camille preaker [ sharp objects ]; catherine earnshaw [ wuthering heights ]; scarlett o’hara [ gone with the wind ]; arya stark [ a song of ice and fire ]; donna hayward [ twin peaks ]; willow rosenberg [ buffy the vampire slayer ] 

♔ — life’s but a walking shadow a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. | background — ♔

born in the upper-middle class suburbs of pittsburgh, pennsylvania to two parents who cared not about chandler the person, but rather chandler the reflection of them. they never laid a hand on her, gave her every comfort she could ask for, but they were/are too self-absorbed to really love her like a parent should love their child. 

her mother, aging beauty she was, and former stage starlet in an off-off-broadway production of cat on a hot tin roof, pushed chandler into taking acting classes, first enrolling her at the tender age of four. her feelings wavered towards acting but it wasn’t until her sophomore year of high school, in a production of a midsummer night’s dream, where she feel in love with it. and all because of a girl. 

her name was emily, and chandler thought she pulled the sun in the sky, hell thought she was the sun in the sky. emily was cast as hermia, chandler as demetrius. how fitting — demetrius doesn’t get the girl, and neither did she. nothing bad happened, chandler was just nervous and didn’t know how to show her emotions. sad. 

her role as demetrius started her long journey into tackling male roles, and only male roles, for the simple reason that her high school theatre department didn’t have enough boys to fill all of the required roles. and then she got good at it, and frankly, her mother did not care what role she got as long as it was a prominent one. 

chandler didn’t want to go to alderidge, not really. she liked that it was on the other side of the country, far out of her mother’s grasp, and she liked that it was a smaller, older school. she wanted to study literature, or philosophy, but her mother, of course, pushed her into acting, and only the best of the best would do. so they compromised — at least at alderidge, she could study shakespeare. and then, she got a full ride, and it was the only school she could afford to go to. how serendipitous. 

somewhere around her senior year of high school, her dad got into a lot of financial trouble, but they tried to keep it away from chandler. however, that plan doesn’t quite work when chandler’s mother views her more as a confidante, a vessel to fill her head with poisonous ideas about her husband, rather than a daughter. so chandler knew all about how her father got them into this mess, how he would ruin their lives, hence why she went to alderidge. and also why she never swayed from male roles, because she needed to keep her scholarship and stay in orson’s good graces (which as we all know, she was mayhaps a little too good at doing). 

so now we speak of it. the affair. torrid, passionate, all-consuming. it started one night, she stayed at rehearsals late, going over her lines, and she had gotten a text earlier in the day from her mother, letting her know that the house is in foreclosure. so it rattled her, made her kinda mess up at rehearsals. something unlike her, chandler is a perfectionist, and makes sure she knows all of her lines, so orson knew something was up. 

she didn’t realize he was still there, she thought he had gone home with everyone else. but he didn’t. and with some prodding and kind eyes, chandler poured her heart out to him, and he told her he took her seriously, and she fell in love.

chandler really thought her and orson were in love, were the exception to the rule. she’s a bit dramatic, yes, it comes with the territory. she wanted an all-encompassing, consuming, passionate love, like romeo and juliet. he never manipulated her, forced her to do anything she didn’t want to. except the lying. to her friends, her girlfriend, her peers. of course, he didn’t force her to stay with the scene-stealer, that decision fell to her. she wanted to have her cake and eat it too, but then her cake died.

she lost not one, but two people she was in love with: orson, obviously, and the scene-stealer. she’s going to go through all five stages of grief, maybe at once. she’s an actor, she feels things more strongly than anyone else, and there’s a lot to feel: she’s grieving the loss of a man she should have never been with in the first place, refuses to acknowledge that she should have never been with him, lost someone else she loved because of her actions and lied to them about it, and could potentially get kicked out of school because of this affair. mental!

♔ — stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires | personality — ♔

before orson’s death, chandler was very mild-mannered, very chill, confident but not cocky. definitely tried to give everyone a chance, and very much wanted to make friends! 

now, however, she is like tony hawk: off the rails. angry at the world, will yell at anyone who looks at her funny, will probably punch anyone who says a bad word about orson, her relationship with him, her involvement in his death (there is none but rumors do be spreading), etc. 

used to be way too trusting! literally if you showed her affection in any way, she trusted you (obviously, a mistake in many situations), because she was literally so desperate for attention.

can be like a little bit pretentious in her tastes, but she just wants to talk about literature and gush over books and philosophy and stuff. not like a know-it-all, though if she knows something, she’ll say it. 

weird obsession with being right all the time. this goes with what i said above, but she needs to be right (like factually, and i guess morally too but we all know she isn’t lmao). had been learning to bite her tongue and choose her battles wisely.

perfectionist, is terrified of disappointing anyone, will cry. will, however, also demand that you recognize her when she fixed it.

a weird combination of a petulant child and stoic philosopher. so basically an aries.

[havocccd]

✎⌠china anne mcclain. cis female. she/her⌡❝ — well, look who’s just arrived ! if it isn’t the one and only sasha lane. though, around here they’re known as the explosive. don’t tell ‘em i said this but the twenty two year old wallys gas bar and convenience store worker kinda has a reputation of being short tempered and turbulent. but y’know, they can be determined and unfailing too. typical aries. anyways, welcome home and stay safe sasha ! ❞ ↷ g. 23. she/her. aest.

H-HEWWO PART TWO. it is i . . g . . back with a wildly different character from sid. this is SATANIC SASHA !!!

tws for violence, neglect, abuse, parental issues (they’re all just Vaguely mentioned!!)

inspiration for sasha: clementine from the walking dead game, jessica jones from Jessica jones, faith from buffy the vampire slayer, camille preaker from sharp objects. Basically any unhinged female character u have watched Murder a Man and kinda gone ‘huh . . good for her’

how do I describe sasha ?? she is .. a Feral Beast

she has so many anger issues and hate towards the world that she is so unforgiving and blunt and borderline Cruel to people

believes that the whole world is against her

has a very short temper and is not Afraid to show it

will fuck ur boyfriend/girlfriend if u piss her off, or even fuck ur dad/mum to break up ur parents marriage just bc she can !

has no morals

gets into punch-ons basically 3000x a week and is well known by the police by now

she grew up in a trailer park just outside of misty hollow, and basically . . it was a lot of neglect and parental abuse and mistreatment. growing up, she was literal ‘trailer trash’ and looked down on by a lot of ppl in misty hollow. it turned her very cruel and indifferent towards people except .. her twin brother ( eugene. u will see him soon hehe)

her twin and her basically show how Differently two ppl can grow from the exact same environment – sasha turned vengeful and angry, and her brother did the exact opposite – he became really nice and Good

they were raised by their mother, primarily, and her mother was . Not Good. she definitely hated sasha, and often told her. she saw something ugly and dangerous in sasha at a very young age , and was convinced the Devil lived inside of her (she wasn’t entirely wrong)

besides all of her faults, sasha is actually really really fiercely loyal to people she does like. she will kill people for the people she loves.

she doesn’t have any real ambition or drive, she knows shes going to be stuck in misty hollow forever . her parents are long long gone now, so now its just sasha and her twin in their crappy apartment they can barely afford

she works over at wallys gas bar, and tbh she likes working there bc wally has always been nice to her and understanding of her crappy little life

with the murders starting up again now , sasha is a little on -edge. She has a really really bad feeling about things, and can’t help but feel like it’s only inevitable before smth happens to her, her twin, or someone she loves.

she’s also slightly suspicious about her dropkick father, who left their mother apparently, just when the first round of murders happened. she saw him in town (she '’’believes’’’ but also .. she’s a bit unhinged so do we believe h er ?? probably not) just recently, and is kinda paranoid thinking that the murderer could be him (she doesn’t really have any proof, but sasha just kinda always feels like Everything That Goes Wrong is Inherently Her Fault bc that’s what her mother taught her)

SOME PLOTS / CONNECTIONS FOR HER

messy girl friends: two chaotic bitches causing ruination and despair . they have been best friends since they were younger. Two pea’s of the same pod, some might call them. They’ve always ALWAYS had each others backs, and u rarely see one without the other!

A taboo “Relationship” : taboo-ish. These two have been Seeing Each other for a little while (its strictly sex, NO FEELINGS INVOLVED , or at least . . not on sasha’s side). they’ve kept it very lowkey and hidden. why? Maybe ur character is a lot older then sasha. Maybe they’re Married or smth messy, idk, sasha is a Messy bitch I hate her sometimes

Love / hate: these two annoy the hell out of each other, but they also hang out all the time ? they act like they hate each other but like. they’re very low key friends. They like pissing one another off, bc it’s fun and Entertaining

A softie : somebody who actually sasha is a lil soft for. somebody who brings up her non-feral side, and reminds her that she is just a Girl, not something rigged to explode and ruin everything

A squad : sasha hates a lot of ppl so I’d like her to have some people she parties with and can be a Youngin’ with u know ? a lil crew of neighbourhood kids around the same age as sasha. they all grew up together . all party together. all Understand Each Other to some Degree.

A sister / mother figure : sasha is deeply lacking in these in her life. maybe somebody who’s a GOOD INFLUENCE on her and loves her and teaches her love in return ??? we love positive female relationships !!

f-buddies: a lot of them. Sasha is a hoe and we don’t slut shame in 2020 !!! let her sleep around if she wants to ! she’ll sleep with anyone and everyone , yee haw !

[vrenaewrites]

My Favorite Books Ever (2019).

In June 2018, I did a video about my all time favorite books. I included 13 books and only a couple were young adult, which is the genre I write in.

Boy how things change in a year. I’ve read probably 20 books since then which isn’t a lot compared to other people, but you’d be surprised how many of those were absolute knockouts for me, quickly moving into my hall of fame favorites. So let’s revisit my top 10 list.

10. TIE: TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD by Harper Lee and MATILDA by Roald Dahl.

[previously #5 and #10, respectively]

These books have to be included on the basis of how much they meant to me as a child and young teen who was bookish, compassionate, and open-minded in my rural (read: often racist) southern community. Scout Finch and Matilda Wormwood were little girls I needed as a little girl, and while I may not reach for these “favorites” too often anymore, they’ll be some of the first books I share with my kids of reading age. They made me who I am.

9. THE MERCILESS by Danielle Vega Rollins.

[new addition]

Boy, oh, boy. If you didn’t catch the pop culture influences on my new WIP, you don’t even know what kind of impact this book had on me. If The Exorcist and Mean Girls had a baby written by Stephen King, this would be it. Sofia Flores is welcomed by the popular, virtuous girls at the expense of outcast Brooklyn, and the price for inclusion is higher than anyone could have known. This is a brutal, BRUTAL book. Full of intrigue, pulpy dirty laundry, and tons of gore, it’s not for the faint of heart. But it is right up my alley.

8. SHARP OBJECTS by Gillian Flynn.

[previously #8]

This book messed me up so bad I had to let my little sister borrow it so I had someone to talk about it with. It worked. Journalist Camille Preaker returns to her small Midwest town to investigate the disappearance of little girls, she has to reconnect with her toxic, dysfunctional family I’ve mentioned it before: a fucked up family and a strong sister dynamic - good or bad - are two of my favorite elements to read about. SHARP OBJECTS comes through with that in spades, along with questionable allies, mental illness in the protagonist, twist after twist, and the classic Gillian Flynn style of stylistic, highly personal writing.

7. THE EXORCIST by William Peter Blatty.

[previously #6]

I am totally and utterly obsessed with this story. I did see the movie before I read the book because I’m a horror movie junkie and I saw this movie at like, ten years old. Twelve year old Regan MacNeil makes an imaginary friend through a ouija board and things...get...weird from there. But of course, the story isn’t really about Regan. It’s about Father Karras, the titular exorcist who wrestles with the imaginary friend within Regan - the demon Pazuzu - and his own personal demons. The vulgar violence Regan is subjected to during her possession will burn into your brain forever, and the exploration of the relationship between god and man and devil feeds my dogmatic interests like few things really can.

6. THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE by Shirley Jackson.

[previously #7]

I can’t overstate how much I love this book. From the queer coding of Theo and Nellie to the unsteady narration, Hill House has been ridiculously impactful on me since I read it almost two years ago. A parapsychologist invites people with paranormal experiences to spend time with him in the titular home, where he plans to prove the existence of paranormal activity. That’s right, this is the start of the ghost hunting trope, guys. Basically, these people get real fuckin’ haunted. As the sanity of each guest of Hill House is threatened and questioned, we as the reader start to wonder what the truth really is.

5. A HEAD FULL OF GHOSTS by Paul Tremblay.

[previously #4]

Paul Tremblay is a contemporary to Stephen King. I said what I said. The Barrett family is torn apart by the change in Marjorie, the oldest of their two daughters. As signs of acute schizophrenia become more prevalent, the father turns to religion and the mother turns to mental health professionals. As their resources deplete, they are forced to allow a reality tv show to document Marjorie’s affliction for the paycheck, where the reality and sanity of all involved comes unraveled. The narrators. The twists upon twists. The unrelenting tension as you become invested in finding out what is really wrong with Marjorie. It’s a book I wish I wrote.

4. THE FORBIDDEN GAME trilogy by LJ Smith.

[previously #3]

I just don’t know how to explain what this book did for me creatively. It’s 90s pulp horror and it made me realize that I kinda want to write 90s pulp horror...in 2019. It’s engaging, well written, interesting, unique, diverse, and quick. LJ Smith can do no wrong in my book.

3. HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN by JK Rowling.

[previously #2]

Do I have to get into this? The introduction of Remus Lupin, my literal father. The introduction of Sirius Black, my literal son. The introduction of not so annoying Hermione, literally me. The Draco punch. Buckbeak. Big baddies on the horizon. The first YA entry in the series. Chef’s kiss. Also the best film, I said what I said.

2. CARRIE by Stephen King.

[previously #1]

I know, I’m shook. Carrie has been dethroned. Don’t tell her though - we don’t want a prom repeat. Stephen King’s debut is ridiculously good - gritty, scary, brutal, sad, and believable despite being about a telekinetic teen who’s abused into massacring most of a town. Spoilers? The book is like 40 years old. Too bad.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Alice Hoffman’s PRACTICAL MAGIC [previously #9]

Grady Hendrix’s MY BEST FRIEND’S EXORCISM [new]

Dhonielle Clayton’s THE BELLES [new]

1. WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE CASTLE by Shirley Jackson.

[new addition]

Oh my God, y’all. I read this book in one day while I was in upstate NY last month. I read it on a dock, on a lake, in 80 degree weather, and I had goosebumps by the end. Mary Katherine Blackwood and her sister Constance live alone in the Blackwood mansion, hated by the villagers, jeered at in the grocery store, and gossiped about - for good reason. Six years prior, their entire family was poisoned and the prime suspect, Constance, was acquitted to the disdain of the public. But when a long lost cousin hungry for the Blackwood fortune comes to visit, secret after secret is unearthed along with little Merricat’s various treasures of protection. Talk about twists. Jackson has a KNACK for the vicious town opinion - The Lottery, anyone? - and how it can ruin a family, a person, and how there can be no sole responsibility for mob mentality. I just cannot overstate how much I love this book.