doctorjeremyxvandamme

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

“I really am sorry to come in so near closing time, but well, rolling in at 9 AM felt gauche. I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” Jeremy had arrived in the shop right after work, still nursing a thermos of coffee he had started that morning. Although this was certainly not the first time he had come by, it had perhaps been several weeks since his last appearance. And as usual, he milled about the place uncertainly, looking somehow out of his element. In truth, his father, the eternal European artiste, whose societal heyday had come in the 1970s, had been a lifelong smoker, he knew. He hid it from his wife, who did not approve. And Jeremy existed as their proper center, both eager to light up and still feeling rather forbidden about the whole thing, legal or otherwise. Nevertheless, the semester had only just begun, and the workload was already beginning to pile up. With the weekend ahead, he could use the opportunity to unwind. “How have you been doing, huh? Do I look lame and self-conscious? I’m trying to reclaim my youth now. What if I got one of those?” He motioned vaguely at a gaudy bong on display.

@nathcnbradley 

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

declanxgraham​:

Sometimes Declan despised just how friendly the bichon was. “Her name’s Coco,” he answered quietly. The photographer was right about some things; Coco definitely kept all the birds away with her barking and chasing. Declan was about to continue strumming when Jeremy continued speaking. About woodpeckers. He tried to keep a disgusted expression on his face, but he wondered if adding bird feeders around his house would disrupt his garden. It could be relaxing, couldn’t it? “Gibson’s?” he gasped. “I’m more of a Fender guy, but that seems like a total waste of money.” Declan figured he’d look the story up later and calculate the worth of every guitar involved. Hopefully they used some shitty strings and not Elixrs. “Well, don’t let any of your bird friends start plucking my guitar, alright?” A strum followed by a grunt, already out of tune. That was the downside of playing in the heat, warping wood. Letting out a chuckle about social media, he had to chime in, “It’s all in how the algorithm works.”

“Ah, well, you’re gorgeous, Coco. It’s a dog eat dog world out there.” Jeremy offered another bright smile, largely in the animal’s direction. He had toyed with the idea of getting a pet himself, but he kept odd hours and had no room. And likewise, far too many of the objects in his home were decidedly breakable. Falling quiet, he glanced up from his camera as Declan readied himself to begin playing again, but by now, the professor was too enchanted by the details of bird-watching to give up the friendly conversation so easily. He raised an eyebrow. “They’re expensive, I take it?” This came with a short laugh. “Fender. Right. Rock and roll. We were a piano house.” As the man continued, though, he seemed to snort, rolling his eyes despite himself. “Well, I chase them away too. They see me coming and take off, but who knows? This could be a very Snow White sort of thing you got going here.” He gestured vaguely at the instrument. “Well, I don’t think social media’s all bad. Okay, if we’re talking algorithms, it’s fascinating to think what we as a society would trade our privacy for, sure. But let people enjoy things. More people complain about selfies than take them.”

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

isaiahxcruz​:

“An…ano…,” Zay furrowed his brows, annoyed at himself. Despite having his GED and a nice, new fancy job, words like anomalies were just a reminder that he wasn’t book smart. “Sorry,” he mumbled, refocusing his attention. “You mean like multo?” Zay’s tone grew low and he thought about the various urban legends his mother passed down to them while they “camped” in the living room. Jeremy talked a lot, but Zay didn’t mind. Most of his friends did, and he was always willing to listen even when he had no clue what was going on. “Space is cool! You ever have the ice cream that astronauts eat?” Zay shook the water off of his hands before changing to a cross-legged position. “We got to try some in third grade. It was de…de…, it was dried up but it was really good!” He laughed at the memory and looked up at the sky, squinting as the sun reflected off his pupils. “Noodling? Like cookin’ noodles? I like makin’ pancit for parties, it’s delicious!” He looked over at Jeremy, unsure if the guy would really understand Ninja Assassin. “I mean…you just gotta watch it, man. Tons of fighting, real great martial arts shit if you’re into that.”

“Uh, quirks. Strange things that shouldn’t be there.” Jeremy offered him a soft smile, giving a nod along with this explanation. He furrowed his brow, making a noise of affirmation. “Oh, uh, yes, actually, but I don’t know very much about ghosts in Filipino culture. Maybe you could tell me some stories some time, hm? My grandmother used to tell me about the Witte Wieven. They’re the spirits of wise women, and if you ever see mist on a graveside, it means one is appearing. You can bring her an offering to ask for help.” He laughed at what was evidently a fond memory. “I haven’t. Have you? What sort of ice cream do they eat?” Asking this, he cocked his head to one side. “Dehydrated, huh? That’s interesting. I wonder how ice cream without water must taste. Maybe we can get some some. I’m sure they must sell it somewhere.” Hanging the camera around his neck, Jeremy walked over to stand beside him, watching the light reflect off the water. He stuck out an arm to demonstrate. “Noodling is when you catch catfish with your bare hands. You just stick ‘em in, and you pull them out. Like this,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Noodle parties do sound more fun, though. And probably cleaner.” He hummed. “We had a neighbor when I was growing up. Mr. Stein. He used to let me come over and watch Enter the Dragon on video. My parents didn’t like that sort of thing. Violence, you know? And I was sort of afraid of everything back then. But then his children moved him into a senior facility. So I never got to watch it again. But I’ll take you up on the Ninja Assassins, for sure.” 

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

icandiceriley​:

⇺

Candice didn’t know why she was hanging around Jeremy so much lately. Actually, yes she did. He was in touch with the supernatural and in this period of the year, she wanted to be around it too. If he could do something to get her to talk to Ryan…to see him again. She would do it. So she had met him down here at the docks as he played and fiddled with camera in front of him. She listened carefully as he described the game wondering if she would see her dead lover in a picture that she took with it. The red hair, the light freckles, greenish blue eyes. Her heart yearned for it. To see him. To hear his voice. It had almost been a year since his death. It was getting closer and closer every day. She blinked a few times before looking over at Jeremy as he asked about her weekend. “Oh, just a few night shifts at the hospital. I’m trying to save up for Ayden’s first birthday. It’s in October. I have to do something big.” she said with a soft sigh, her eyes never leaving the camera. “Do you see dead people?” she asked quickly. The words just seemed to fall out of her mouth before she could catch them. “I mean with the camera. Have dead people ever appeared in one of the pictures?”

“The first birthday is a big one. That’s very exciting! He’s going to be on his feet and talking a mile a minute before you know it,” Jeremy replied softly, lips spreading into a small, sincere smile. He turned to meet her eye. At the question, though, he furrowed his brow. “Like in the movie? No.” He gave a shake of his head. “Sometimes, maybe you see a smudge or a blur, and our minds, we ascribe meaning to them. Look for images that aren’t there. The mirror games work the same way. Staring at your reflection in the dark...you imagine things.” But he was not an expert in psychology and the specifics of the human mind. What he did know was, of course,  history and culture. “But...uh spirit photography has been around for more than a century. People have thought of the camera as a tool to see beyond for a very long time.” He trailed off, speaking gingerly, largely because he sensed a weight to Candice’s questions. “I don’t study these games for results, though. I study them to learn why we play them,” he continued. “That said, between you and me, there was this one that started appearing on the Japanese-speaking internet around 2011 or so. It’s pretty simple. You have to find a working payphone, but beyond that. The goal is to get a ghost or entity or something to call you. And, well, we’ll just say my own phone rang at an opportune moment, and no one was there.” He shrugged. “Faulty battery? Bad connection? Who knows.”

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

angel-emmerson​:

Location: Crescent College  Tagging: @doctorjeremyxvandamme​

“Aye, Doc. D, you blow any minds today? Looking mighty cute in that outfit too. If you were my professor in college,” Ángel let out a low whistle and pretended to fan himself as he found Jeremy on the usual bench they met at whenever they had lunch. He enjoyed Jeremy’s company to say the least, though half the time he spoke, Ángel had trouble keeping up. But the guy was interesting beyond belief and when he opened up he could talk his head off and there was nothing Ángel loved more than talking. “I hope you’re hungry cause I went into the deli hungry and I got a bit too much,” he admitted as he held up the bag in his hand before settling back on the bench, stretching his legs out enough that he was comfortable but wouldn’t trip anyone coming by. “Fries, of course,” he told him and pulled out the container to hand to him, the bottom of it already still pretty hot. I got those cookies you like but they only had one pack, I tried to ask the lady in the back for more and she gave me side eye so I left it at that, I didn’t want to push it, yanno? Anyway for you,” he told him and pulled out a sandwich to hand to Jeremy before grabbing his own, taking the fries back to put them in between them. “Drinks are in the bag too,” he told him, already unraveling his sandwich. “I’m starving homie, I did a crazy workout this morning after my run. I’ll be surprised if my arms even work for me to wipe my ass tomorrow,” he joked, chuckling at his own words before he finally relaxed enough. “How was class today, Professor?”

Glancing up at the familiar voice, Jeremy all but rolled his eyes before giving a low, appreciative laugh. He spoke up almost drolly. “Oh, no, we’re still at the start. We’re learning our vocabulary right now, so mind-blowing won’t happen for a few more weeks. At least. But if I were your professor in college, Ángel, I’d have to report whatever that was to the Dean.” He said this teasingly, scooting over a bit to make room. The two of them were an odd pair in some ways. In truth, guys like Ángel picked on him growing up. But perhaps it was a symbiotic sort of friendship. In both speaking too much, they could also listen without judgement, wherever the conversation ended up going. And it did usually meander the path less traveled. “Starving,” he replied. “I do this cross-discipline elective once a year; it’s sort of a living history kind of thing, where we get out there and do it with our hands. So, picture it, me, 8 AM, with a rake, and a pile of hay, and twelve college kids. Now, they didn’t have cellphones in 1880, but let me tell you, it could have fooled me this morning.” He sighed deeply, and while he spoke with some light irritation, it was still evident enough he really did love his job, even its more ridiculous components. “Thank you,” he replied shortly, taking the fries and beginning to set up the food between them, using the bench as a tabletop of sorts. “Ah, well, I appreciate it, but I’d hate for them to stick your picture up on the ‘do not serve’ wall for cookie crimes,” he chuckled softly, corners of his eyes wrinkling up with genuine mirth. “Was it the same lady as last time? I should really just go properly introduce myself to her. I’m shy. I’m sure she’s very kind, and that’s how you get the extra snacks, you know. By being kind back.” He droned on a little, taking the sandwich before digging around for the drinks. Setting his own near his lap, he handed the other over before giving a snorting laugh. “Well, gosh. Did anyone ever tell you you were a poet? I should bring you over to the English department, let them know I’ve found the Keats of the twenty-first century. Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, I won’t be able to wipe my ass tomorrow.” He nodded succinctly. “That’s good, though. Are your trying something new? I’ve been meaning to get to the gym, but well, if I had too many muscles, none of my shirts would fit.” He hummed a little, popping a fry into his mouth. “Fine. Fine. Besides the little hay adventure. Mostly intro courses right now, but that’s all right. We love our freshmen. How have you been doing? What’s new? How’s sports?” This was a joke, a purposefully vague reference to perhaps the one topic in which Jeremy had only marginal knowledge.

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

diana-amari​:

location: jeremy’s office closed: @doctorjeremyxvandamme

Diana balanced the pastry bag and cup holders with coffee in one hand as she pressed her phone between her ear and her shoulder, scooting less than gracefully through the crowds of students who had just started school. She bumped into too many people, still getting used to navigating tighter spaces with her changing body, and her phone call had long sense ended, but she was too nervous about dropping her treats to put it back into her purse.

She pushed the door to Jeremy’s office open with her hip, squinting at her watch just to see she was fifteen minutes early as she stepped inside without much warning. “Well,” she started, wincing with some guilt, “I brought treats?” She sat down the bag of scones and croissants along with coffee on his desk, offering a grin. “Your favorite. I hope. It was what I got last time and I feel like people’s coffee orders are pretty consistent with their favorite.”

***

The semester had only just begun, and Jeremy already felt the work piling up around him. But that was perhaps the result of overdue summer grading and students who had begged for second and third chances. He was a softie. And this was all coupled, of course, with a desk that always looked like some sort of nest, littered with papers and folders and stray rubber bands. Flipping through an essay, he narrowed his eyes, reading through the same paragraph for a fourth time when he heard something stir. 

Leaning back in his chair, Jeremy looked up over the rim of his glasses as the office door opened. Pulling the spectacles from his eyes, he moved hurriedly from his perch as if to help with the baggage. “Oh, it’s all right. I needed the break anyway,” he admitted, giving a short nod. “Here, please, sit down.” Saying this, he scooped up a bundle of discarded books from a chair and dumped them on the edge of his desk. “I’m not picky. But thank you. I appreciate it. I have an 8 AM class; it’s a killer.” He hummed a little, taking his cup from the tray before turning to give a proper smile. “Now, uh, what can I do for you today, hm? I can’t help with anything regarding families, fraternities, gangs, or other communal brotherhoods because I’ve read three papers now about why frats are totally cool, and we should all do more keg stands.”

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

aimee-morales​:

“I wasn’t aware you had enough friends to play games with, or enough money to use a camera like that like it was disposable.” Aimee’s smile grew softly as she wrapped her hands around her thermos of coffee. She had seen him from her truck as she drove her way home, easing her car into a parking spot in hopes that she could get some time to talk to him. Jeremy was easy to talk to, mostly because he had calm energy and he didn’t turn her away when she asked questions. He knew how much anthropology had meant to her, knew that in a lot of ways he had lived her dream. So she was grateful for any opportunity to hear his stories or pick his brain, or better yet, get in on any mini adventure he found himself in. Maybe it would help her find a way back to her passion, or maybe it would satisfy it enough that she no longer had to wonder. “Didn’t play any creepy games that may or may not have cursed me but I did make a kickass pot of chili,” she told him proudly. “I was mostly doing house stuff, Mason is rehearsing for this start of the year concert for when school opens next week so I’ve just been his Uber driver to and from school mostly. I did catch a few gems on the History Channel this weekend, though I totally also got snagged in by the alien shit, I can’t help it, that one dude with the crazy hair gets me every time.” She took a long sip of her coffee and kept her eyes on the water for a moment longer. “Did you have lunch yet?”

“I have lots of friends.” Jeremy replied simply and matter-of-factly, as if the remark, on its own merits, could end the conversation. Still, despite himself, he clarified further, blowing a mockingly exasperated breath out his nose. “Well, maybe I couldn’t form a softball team or anything, but we could definitely have a go at curling. But you only need two people for a proper Picture Game. And it needs to be people you trust; that’s part of it. You have to say that out loud. ‘I trust you.’ Or maybe you trust the ghost? Or yourself. There’s a mirror involved. Hmm. In any case, I don’t plan on disposing of it, so it’s a moot point.” Looking up at her, though, he flashed a soft, if quietly triumphant smile, as if he genuinely had won some sort of argument. But Jeremy enjoyed his conversations with Aimee, even if they could devolve into joking jousting. He was aware he could wrap himself too much in details, drone on about irrelevant topics, but she seemed genuinely interested in his work. And he certainly did not mind sharing what he knew. He appreciated the like-minded company. “Ah, well, chili is just as good. And safer too, yes,” he replied with a light laugh. Raising the camera once more, he got a successful shot of the boat in the distance before flicking a bit through the preview images on the screen. “How’s that going for Mason? He’s got to be around the age to start driving himself soon, yes?” He glanced in her direction, narrowing his eyes in the sunlight. “Ah! Sometimes I get lost in the aliens too. Do I think they built the Pyramids? No. But they might be abducting that guy live on air. That’s why his hair is like that; it’s getting sucked up.” He chuckled softly. “I haven’t actually. Have you? I forget to do that. There was an estate sale this morning. Old house. Big house. Got a box of miscellaneous papers and books I’m itching to go through. One looks like a diary.” 

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

isaiahxcruz​:

Zay sat quietly as Jeremy explained…something to him. He leaned over the docks and ran his fingers through the water, it was cold. “Don’t you always see stuff in pictures?” he asked. Silently, he had a fear that despite earning his GED just a bit over a month ago, Zay still wouldn’t be smart enough to keep up with his current love interest. Especially when it came to photography stuff because he was completely lost with whatever Jeremy was saying. “Cameras cost a lot of money,” he commented. One day he thought he’d get out of that poor man’s mindset, but today was not that day. “Breaking expensive stuff…it doesn’t seem right.” This time, he dipped his entire forearm into the water, giggling when he felt a fish nip at his fingertip. “Well, I watched Ninja Assassin three times. The first time I fell asleep because I started at midnight, but it’s so good man!”

“Yes, but we’re talking stuff that wasn’t there when you took the picture. Anomalies. Orbs, scary faces, that sort of thing.” Jeremy clarified this casually. A well-timed breeze seemed to roll over them in that moment, setting his t-shirt fluttering. He closed his eyes tight, allowing the sun to wash over him. “You’re right. They do. So I won’t be destroying this one. I’m on a professor’s salary. And a niche professor salary at that. I should have been an astronaut instead. Maybe I’d have found the aliens by now,” he continued with some sincere pep. Still, watching Isaiah, he laughed. “You ever gone noodling, pal? I haven’t. But maybe you’d get a kick out of it.” He nodded along. “I’ve never watched that one. What’s it about? Why do the ninjas have to assassinate someone? Or will that ruin the whole thing for me?” 

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

kaiyaeldridge​:

The best part about living on her boat was being able to interact with all different sorts of people as they roamed around the docks. It was a popular enough place for people fishing, taking walks, and any number of other activities. Kai was out on the deck of her boat working on sanding down some of the flooring, her attention half on the project at hand and half of Jeremy as he spoke. “The Picture Game, okay. I’ve never heard of that one before. I’ll have to hit you up to join next time. I don’t ever bitch out, so we’d totally fucking find a good photo.” Kai didn’t necessarily believe in the paranormal, but she took great pleasure out of “investigating” it around town with whoever was willing to drag her along, especially when there were people getting scared out of their minds around that she could heckle. “Here’s to hoping you’re not rolling around town with a haunted camera, though, dude. My weekend was fine, though? Just…you know, same old shit. Working on this stupid boat.”

“Oh, for sure. The more the merrier. Or the scarier, I guess. We didn’t get anything besides some blurry smudges this time. Which, I suppose could just been very out-of-focus ghosts. The camera’s broken, after all. But it’s really about the experience, not the results.” Jeremy spoke wryly, with private humor, but giving up on the device for the moment, he instead turned his attention to the boat itself. For a few moments, he watched Kai hard at work on the flooring until a bird in the distance caught his attention. He took a blurry photo of it. “That said, I don’t really know what we’re trying to see here. No one online agrees. Some say ghost women, some ghost children. At least one purports a hooded figure with a skeleton face. Which is sort of Trick-or-Treat, don’t you think? But that’s only because we have a cultural reference for the Grim Reaper in movies, cartoons, greeting cards....” He droned on some before ending in a sigh. “I have lots of haunted things. Dolls. A music box. A ‘ring of the vampires,’ whatever that means. The internet has a whole economy for cursed and/or evil objects. It can actually drive prices up.” Ending with this note, he smiled brightly. “It’s a rather nice boat, I think. You really make it shine. Bring out the best in it.” 

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

eleanor-walsh​:

Nel sat on the edge of the dock, looking curiously in the water. The boats would come in and out of the marina every once in a while, and it seemed like it took an eternity for them to report back. Looking up, she squinted as she looked into the sunlight, washing Jeremy out in her vision. “That is kind of spooky, not gonna lie,” She shaded her eyes as she looked at him, furrowing her brow at the camera that was in his hands. “I didn’t know that was a game that people supposedly played, but now it kind of seems like you’ve gotta’ get rid of the camera as fast as possible.” A smile strung across her lips as he asked the question. “Well, the friend who doesn’t see the red-flags is always the one to die first in horror movies, you know?” Her feet touched the water a bit as she swung her legs back and forth. “My weekend,” She stated flatly, “My weekend was incredibly boring. But you know what didn’t happen,” She pointed to him, shaking her finger a little bit. “I didn’t get to hang out with the paranormal like some people I know.”

“It is spooky, right?” He said this brightly, looking out at the horizon as if in search of something, before turning his gaze back to Nel. He smiled softly, bringing up a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight reflecting off the water. And with that, Jeremy inhaled the salty air deeply, allowing it to roll through him and fill his empty corners. “Well, I haven’t been able to nail down an exact origin quite yet. Potentially as far back as the 1950s, I suppose, if we’re talking about household access to flash cameras. But spirit photography dates to the 19th century. It involves mirrors too, of course. So many of these games do, but...well, humans have been staring into mirrors forever. Looking for spirits, the future, their true selves, etcetera, etcetera.” He hummed distantly. “That was a roundabout way of saying I’m not throwing away the camera. As far as I know, the picture ghost hasn’t gotten anyone yet.” At the horror film remark, though, he let out a laugh. “I’m not that friend. I’m the mysterious expert introduced at the end with all the rules to kill the bad guy.” Shaking his head, he moved down from his perch to make his lazy way over. And looking down to where she sat, he cocked his head and crossed his arms. “Weekends are what we make of them. You’re, of course, welcome to join sometime. But it’s not really about the paranormal. I do lots of these things, and maybe one out of thirty times, something odd like a broken camera happens. That’s just luck. It’s really about the game. Belief. Rituals. The way culture molds folklore. Take the Slenderman, for example. A monster created by the Internet. Broken out into our world.”

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

declanxgraham​:

Ten…nine…eight…Declan continued to count down until he hit zero. Be better. Be better. He feigned a smile and whistled for Coco to back away from the man. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. “Public park. I just didn’t expect anybody to be so close so soon.” Declan began to change tuning- he desperately needed to get this neck set up properly- when he heard…bird watching? Wasn’t that an elderly woman’s hobby? “You see anything aside from pigeons?” he asked, a light laugh fell from his mouth. It was kind of funny, to himself anyway. The thought of birds attacking guitars did not sit well with Declan at all, and the only thing he could ask was, “Well, I’m sure they weren’t expensive guitars, right? Maybe just a few, First Acts?”

Nodding along, Jeremy clicked his tongue, giving up on the camera for the moment. “Oh, I wasn’t really looking where I was going. Technology, you know? But I’ll be out of your hair. No problem. This little one’ll keep all the birds away anyway. What’s her name?” He smiled again, nodding his head in Coco’s direction and making a kissing face in her direction, the sort people made for babies. He managed a genuine laugh, though, at the remark. “Well, sometimes I see seagulls. But no, last week, I got a shot of a Downy Woodpecker. They’re the smallest in North America, you know. Really the only woodpecker that’ll go to a feeder if you hung one up.” He nodded very seriously, and if there was some sort of joke about the hobby, he seemed too genuinely enthused about the bird sighting to care. “You know, I’m not sure. Gibson's or something. Guitars are one thing I don’t know very much about. Strange art exhibitions, though. Sure. I went to one last year about ‘connection in the cyber world,’ and it really just boiled down to ‘boo, hiss, Instagram bad.’ Shallow. Overdone.” 

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

declanxgraham​:

Location: McIntosh Park 

@crescentstarters​

Never in his life did Declan think he would allow an animal to be in the passenger side of his Jaguar. But there Coco sat, in her luxury rhinestone dog seatbelt, happily staring out the window. “Here you go, girl,” he spoke quietly, rolling the window down just far enough for her little head to stick out and get some fresh air. If only this dog knew how much shit had been happening in the human world as of late. 

Declan parked the car, grabbed his guitar out of the back, and grabbed the leash with his free hand. There were plenty of dogs out today, Coco wouldn’t be too needy for attention. “Hang on, settle down!” he laughed as she began barking and pulling him toward the open grass. Once she was securely tied to the leg of the bench, Dec sat down and began to strum, humming an alternate melody to lay on top of the rhythm. A small groan as he felt a presence getting closer to him. Was it a crime to want to be alone in a public setting? “I’m not taking requests, and I’m definitely not going to play ‘Wonderwall,’ he sighed, finally looking up. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to disturb you. Uh, no, I don’t want to hear ‘Wonderwall,’ thank you.” Looking up at the voice, as if pulled from a dream, Jeremy managed a small, unflinchingly polite smile, and when he spoke up, the words seemed to ring sincerely, genuinely apologetic, if somewhat awkward. And so, offering a short nod, he cast his gaze back to his camera, which was still rallying against him as he tried to filter through the day’s photographs. But by all accounts, the Doctor was not a confrontational man, not at all. But even then, he could pick up the irritation in Declan’s voice and opted, it seemed, to lean into an excess of kindness rather than retreat. “I’m just doing some bird-watching today is all. Trying to find a good spot.” He explained this to no one in particular, but that was indeed among the odder hobbies he had picked up since moving to Crescent Harbor. He had largely hopped from urban center to urban center for most of his life; the chance to actually experience nature beyond a vindictive pigeon or aggressive squirrel was calming enough. “Oh! A few years ago, this museum stuck a whole flock of finches in a room with all these guitars, and they sort of, plucked out their own music? Fascinating, isn’t it? I hope they treated them all right. Musicians, huh?” 

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

Location: Hemlock Docks

"I think it’s broken. Well, now, that’s sort of spooky, isn’t it?” Pointing his camera out at the water, Jeremy tried, evidently in vain, to take a shot. However, the device resisted, the lens whirring a bit as it zoomed in and out a few times, refusing to focus. The man sighed deeply, but shaking his head, he looked up and managed a small smile. “A few of us used it this past Sunday to play The Picture Game. You all sort of sit around a circle of thread and take turns snapping photos, and if it works correctly, I figure you’re supposed to see something in the images.” He explained this nonchalantly, as if it were a completely usual way for a man his age and some friends to spend an evening. “Someone took a photo, but then when it was his second turn, he was too afraid. That’s a red flag, and if it happens, you’re supposed to immediately end the game. Oh, and destroy the camera. Which I didn’t do. Clearly. But the rules weren’t exactly straightforward. Unfortunately. He took the photo before he red-flagged, so I thought it would be all right. Maybe not.” He sniffed the air. “But how was your weekend?” 

@crescentstarters​

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

ivyevns​:

Bars weren’t a place that Ivy often went to. She didn’t drink much besides a very rare glass of wine, and she spent most of her free time with her children. For once, she decided to go out somewhere other than the park or the school that she worked at. She needed a change, so she currently found herself walking into one of the bars in town. It would be nice to loosen up and not worry about her children, considering they were perfectly safe in her mother’s care. Approaching the open seat at the bar countertop, Ivy gently tapped the shoulder of the person sitting next to it. “Excuse me, is this seat taken? I’d hate to just plop myself down without asking. I’m also in need of a drink recommendation, if you don’t mind giving me one.” 

@crescentstarters​

If his air-conditioning unit had not sputtered its last breath that morning, dying in a dramatic flurry of grunts and cries, Jeremy likely would have been doing this at home. But his house was small, overcrowded, and even the infrequent breeze rolling off the water, sweeping through the open windows and setting the pages of discarded books fluttered, offered no reprieve. And so, here he sat, shoulders hunched, red pen uncapped, pouring through an overdue stack of essays from his recently finished summer course. So, in conclusion, I don’t think we should cancel fraternities, Dr. van Damme, because they do a lot of good things for people. He groaned, pressing a finger to his temple as he read the sentence once more, but just as he looked ready to begin marking, he glanced up at a hand on his shoulder. He offered a weary smile. “Oh, no...by all means. Let me clear some of this up for you. I’m sorry.” Saying this, he began pushing some of his scattered articles to the side, gathering papers and an overstuffed portfolio into his bag. He took up his barely touched glass and took a small sip, swallowing hard. “It’s, uh, a red ale. It’s not bad, but I think you’re supposed to have it with actual food. Not, like, pretzels.” He popped one from the nearby bar bowl into his mouth nonetheless. “It has a dry finish. Now, I only sort of know what that means, but I saw it on the bottle, so it must be true.” 

[doctorjeremyxvandamme]

“Yesterday, upon the stair, / I met a man who wasn't t h e r e! / He wasn't there again today. / Oh how I wish he'd go away!”

Below the cut, you can find Jeremy’s basic info, key story points, full bio, and a handful of possible connections, although I am open to most plots! Triggers include death mentions, blood mentions, and a handful of horror elements. Please do feel free to reach out if I can provide context without mention of those topics.

basics

Name: Dr. Jeremy van Damme

Gender/Pronouns: Cismale | He/Him

Date of Birth: January 22, 1981

Age: 39

Hometown: Jersey City, NJ

Length of time in Crescent Harbor: 5 Years

Neighborhood: Hemlock Docks

Occupation: Professor of Anthropology at Crescent College

Faceclaim: Matthias Schoenaerts

key points

An only child, the son of a Belgian-born painter of some renown, but primarily among art types with an interest in niche work 

Has a doctorate in anthropology from New York University and now teaches the discipline at Crescent College. Completed his undergrad education in Washington

Devotes most of his research to modern folklore, urban legends, and what he calls ritualistic play: games like Bloody Mary or Charlie Charlie, the latest variation of Juego de la Lapicera, meant to summon something, communicate with something, or achieve specific ends through strict adherence to pre-determined rules or conditions

A history buff. Knows much about the origins of Crescent Harbor and is now actively involved in historical preservation efforts. His interests encompass the periods both prior to and following the actual founding of the town.

Something of a pack-rat. Collects oddities and antiques and allows visitors to poke around his overcrowded house. 

full bio (tw: death, blood, horror elements)

If he angled his neck just right, face pressed against the glass, held there by tiny, marker-covered hands, he could just barely see the monster from his bedroom window. The gangling, wide-eyed thing, all teeth and blackened pupils, was caught in an eternal snarl by the glint of the corner street lamp (which had been broken for some time and blinked erratically every few minutes). The light has stay on because the light keeps it there, he would think. So long as the light stays on, it has to stay there and cannot come here. For as long as the boy could remember, though, this massive graffiti creature, the handiwork of some unknown artist or another, had been spray-painted there, overseeing its domain from the red brick facade of an already defunct paper packaging warehouse. And it certainly had not escaped yet. But this particular piece of street art had long frightened the young Jeremy van Damme, who would spend his nights watching it from the safety of his heightened perch.

At that time, he lived with his father (a native of Flanders and painter of some niche surrealist renown) and mother (a full-time college dean and part-time muse to her artiste husband) in a tall brown apartment building that swayed with the wind. The groaning of the foundation, the creaking of the pipes, and the unpleasant damp sweetness, an almost bloody smell, that occasionally wafted out an uncovered vent after a storm, instilled in the boy an early sense of fantastic terror. More often than not, Jeremy van Damme was afraid. At the age of six, he discovered in a forgotten photo album a picture of himself he could not recall taking. And there, he abruptly decided some other Jeremy, a doppelganger or double or mimic, not only existed, but was waiting for the opportunity to strike and swallow him whole. At the age of seven, he got it into his head that a family of venomous lizards had taken up residence in the basement washing machine; he could hear them hissing if he listened closely. And at the age of eight, the death of the elderly woman down the hall gave birth to a new series of existential horrors, of the terrible uncertainty of the afterlife, of restless ghosts, and of white-haired specters that stalked hallways by night in search of little boys to do whatever it is ghosts do.

Nevertheless, the apartment was not vacant for long, and in the weeks that followed, Jeremy struck up a new friendship with a girl his age who had moved into the building with her family. And with how cheery they had painted the place, one could almost forget what happened to poor old Mrs. Hansen there. It was through this new companion, however, that Jeremy himself, albeit wide-eyed and screaming, was introduced to the sort of ritualistic play that would eventually guide his career. With nothing but a pack of stolen matches and the misguided goal of “putting the spirit to rest,” the pair of them locked themselves in her bathroom to chant into the mirror, spin in circles, and search for faces in the glass. And while they never found them, these games did instill in the young Jeremy a new sense of bravery and morbid curiosity. After all, if a ghost could be banished away by something as simple as blowing out a match, maybe they were not so frightening after all.

Still, he had always been curious. His mother was, after all, a career academic, and to that end, Jeremy had little hope of genuinely shirking his homework. He did well in school and read often. Small and eager to be helpful, he was even, in some ways, a natural teacher’s pet, eager to spend more time among the adults than the playground bullies. Eventually, Jeremy attended a nearby “all boys” Catholic high school, and while the AV Club was already dying by that time, he and a few friends began borrowing their camera equipment to “record psychic phenomena,” which largely consisted of them trying to unsuccessfully move rubber balls with their minds.

At sixteen, however, one of the boys got his own car, and the unlikely group was able to finally take part in a bit of local legend that involved circling an abandoned house several times, honking one’s horn, and then flashing one’s headlights. The result was the ghost of “Clarice” appearing in an upper story window to chase the intruders away. Every time they did this ritual, someone in the vehicle would shout that they had seen her (although it was never more than one person at a time). Following one such excursion, one boy disappeared from school with the flu for a week, and there was, at least, a successful rumor he had been spirited away. That was sort of fun.

Upon graduating, near but not quite at the top of his class, Jeremy ultimately attended the University of Washington, eager to spread his wings to the West Coast although Stanford had rejected him. While he began his higher education as a History major, he eventually shifted his focus to cultural anthropology, in which he earned his Bachelor’s degree. Graduate School, a Master’s degree, and a Doctorate from New York University eventually followed, and Jeremy began focusing his field of study more specifically on the role of folklore and legend in the modern world. His first and only full-length book, a small academic piece, entitled Creating Clarice: An Anthropological Case Study on the Invention of a Ghost, sprung to life when he, upon digging through an academic database, discovered the phantom woman he had tried so vehemently to conjure as a teenager had never actually existed.

Combining local interviews, in-depth real estate research, historical records, and a dive into the roots of ritualistic children’s games themselves, he tried, with varying levels of success, to trace the story to its source and frame it in the context of the community that had created it. This research, while mostly published for classroom use, did eventually earn him a position at Crescent College, where he still teaches today.

In his five years in town, Jeremy has since become something of an undisputed expert in local history, collecting trivia in the same way others might collect stamps. That said, Jeremy remains, to this day, a collector in the most traditional sense. His small home, an old building near the docks, has its charms and is known to be full of oddities, antiques, and other things that have caught the owner’s fancy. Most are of local interest, and Jeremy has rather seriously involved himself in town preservation efforts.

possible connections

The Student - Jeremy is a professor at Crescent College and teaches a variety of anthropology courses for all skill levels. This person is either a former or current student. Perhaps Jeremy mentors them, or perhaps they were an eternal thorn in his side.

The Curious - Jeremy collects all sorts of odd objects he finds. From 19th century tea sets, to old letters and photographs, to “haunted” mirrors and dolls, he welcomes this person regularly to poke around the antiques and maybe even goes shopping with them.

The Adventurous - Jeremy’s primary areas of expertise are modern folklore and ritualistic play. He and this person team up to test out the latest spooky games and legends, from trying to summon up a mirror ghost or see if they can get someone from beyond the grave talk with them through a disconnected telephone.

The Historian - Jeremy is well-versed in the history of the town and its founding families. Perhaps this person wants or needs to learn more about some obscure local topic, and the professor is here to help.