#and he politely starts haunting you bc he’s not ready to move on and he knows you have something to do with it

[tiniestbee]

Drabble/Fic idea based on The Apparition by Sleep Token I will probably never write in the tags 😋👍🏼

[plushbunbun-blog]

Video's Last Patient

Video's reference sheet above. Her "short" story below. (WARNING: suicide, death, murder) Video was on a walk like she did any other night, when an addison fell flat on the ground in front of her. Green addison stared in shock at what happened just now but quickly realised she's not looking at a dead body yet. Building was tall, bot seemed not tall enough to kill the suicidal fool. He looked pretty... broken nonetheless. Video, knowing how will it end if she'll leave him, patched him up as fast and as good as she could and took him to her sheltered place (name it home but it's a really small apartment with covered windows).

Vid tried to force some healing food in him but he was unable to swallow. So she fed him some liquid to keep him alive and to let him at least start the healing process.

After two weeks or so, the addison started responding to being fed. Healing sped up from there.

Third week, the addison opens his eyes and tries to talk. Video was fine with him not speaking but once she heard a sound coming out of him she ducked behind a desk, nervously checking if he's moving or not. He got into sitting position while groaning from pain and looked around. Then she heard him speak full sentence for the first time since she brought him here.

"What the hell?". Silence . . . "Who the fuck are you??"

She shuddered, made a weird sound and tried to curl into a smallest ball possible.

"Stop pretending you're not here. Who are you??"

It took a long while and a lot of stuttering from the green addison to answer to any of his questions.

"I'm Video!" She shouted and ducked down again. Addison on the bed was silent for a second.

"I'm . . . I'm Copycat". He said, not sure how to continue the conversation.

But somehow they did.

It took days for Video to get at least a little comfortable around Copycat. But she had to, since Copy couldn't walk on his own yet.

The week passed and the question showed up. Video knew it would eventually come.

"Why did you save me?"

Video didn't know how to answer while not being honest.

"It felt like the right thing to do. You almost fell on me so I wasn't fine after seeing you on the ground, too"

Copy, for the first time since waking up, showed a real and honest expression. It looked like mix of quilt and fear.

"I... didn't know that could happen. I didn't think about it.. " He said silently, almost whispering.

"Why you wanted to end this like that? I don't know what happened in your life but-"

"Exactly. You don't know. So don't try to say you know anything" He cut her and went silent again. Vid was ready for that answer. It wasn't first time someone snapped at her like that.

Later that day she spoke to him again.

"I was a therapist, you know?" She said while giving him food. He looked at her with surprised smile.

"Pff, YOU? How when you look like needing one yourself??" He laughed a little. Vid just smiled politely.

"I did say I was, not that I still am" She looked away, kinda dozing off. Copy stopped laughing and got curious instead.

"What happened then?"

"It's too long of an answer. It doesn't matter anyway.. Not anymore" She answered. Her eyes looked empty while she cleaned the dishes.

It took a really long time to make Copy speak up. But Video wasn't pushy. She gave him time and was giving gentle treatment while sharing some information about herself to gain his trust. Eventually Copycat said what caused him to break.

He murdered someone. He admitted it wasn't a problem that he did it, it wasn't first time. But it was the first time killing someone possibly innocent. And he did it wrong. His victim died in pain and it took a long time before she stopped breathing. It was an order and he was starwing, he couldn't decline. But he couldn't take the last look she gave him. It was haunting, begging look of someone desperate to live.

After long days of insomnia and quilt he just wanted to rest. He broke down into a sobby mess, shaking and apologising over and over. Vid let him cry himself out.

After a few weeks Copycat started slowly getting better. But he still didn't know how to start anew.

"Why you want me to live so much?" He was asking from time to time. Vid couldn't answer how she wanted to and went with some therapy lines. It wasn't working well, but it was better than not saying anything. She couldn't tell him the truth just yet.

Copy eventually started leaving her place, going to store all by himself and resocializing. He looked and felt better and better every new day. But Video started feeling weaker and more dim.

One day, Video asked Copycat over. She asked if she can look into his memories. At first Copy didn't understand, She explained that it's how her ability works. She can take an USB wire from her wrist and plug herself to another Addison and learn about everythng what happened in it's life while her patient goes into a sleeping state.

"It's like watching a movie, but with feeling what you did at the moment" She said. After long thinking, Copy agreed but warned her she might hate him afterwards. She assured him that she would never. Copy lay down on the bed and let Vid do the thing.

When he woke up, he noticed Vid, sitting on the bed, facing away from him.

"How was it?" He asked, not sure what to expect

". . ."

"Video?"

"I... need to go outside" She stuttered and stormed out while covering her face. Copy felt fear, thinking she doesn't want to know him anymore.

He failed to see she was crying.

She came back in the morning, reassuring Copy that she wasn't abandoning him. But she admitted that he can't stay with her forever. So a few days later, he left.

He was coming over to her often. To talk, to share, to hang out. But she was becoming weaker and weaker each time. Even faster since he left. He noticed it and asked her what's wrong, but she didn;t want to tell him. So he just continued to visit her as often as he could.

One day, after being gone for a bit longer, he showed up with a bouquet in his hands and knocked on the door. He wanted to thank her yet again and share some news. But she didn't answer. He knocked again. Still nothing. Growing worried, he tried to open the lock on the door. Turns out the door was open, so he let himself in. She was sitting next to the bed, loosely. Almost falling over. She wasn't breathing. It was the first time he has seen her in a regular shirt. That's when Copycat realised why she was always covering her body with long sleeved hoodies, turtlenecks, gloves and scarves. At first he thought she was cutting herself. But that was worse.

On her fingertips and on her neck were dark, awful marks. They looked like a weird virus you would see only in a horror movies.

She was being eaten alive by a disease, like a human cancer. For possibly years. Knowing there was no cure. He now knew why she saved him. It was so selfish, but it got to him more than any of her other advises.

She wanted HIM to live because SHE was the one who didn't want to die. She wanted her last patient to live on, for her.

That day, Copycat cried more than he did ever before and after in his life. And never tried to take his own life again.

[urmomification]

SWAG ANOTHER DREAM SMP AU FIC IDEA THAT ILL NEVER WRITE POG

this is a very long post please im so sorry my brain it just

(tw for like slight possession n shit)

(sorry its all jumbled i write all of these in discord to my friend and copy paste them here please if u have questions ask me im always willing to talk abt this shit please it haunts me)

(context: i saw a tiktok abt the hc that both dream and techno are gods of some sort bc theyre mentioned in the tales of the smp by karl a time traveller and my brain just ran w it)

going back to the techno and dream are gods thing right so dream is a vessel for the god dream xd (??? work in progress youll know what im talking about at some point its really funny tho uve def seen clips of it) and he was possessed?? by the god after the server started (when he started going from super friendly with everyone to control/power hungry) when he started sacrificing everything for power so no one could have power over him? that was the god making him do it bc the god was terrified of not being in control since theyd lost it all to techno in their past. thats why we never see dream and techno fight and why we see dream extend help and support to him at times as well as respecting his boundaries and such bc theyre scared of techno (again w the best of 10 duel reference, techno killed the god in a past life which is why the god has been forced to use a human vessel to get anything done on the mortal plane) but when something that powerful spends pretty much any amount of time in something mortal and mundane like a person, the host body starts to change (hence the mask) i like to think that the god would be akin to that of a biblically correct angel?? like the ones w multiple eyes n shit yk so after time things start to happen to normal dreams body he gets extra sets of eyes and he gets taller and overall his body seems just Too Small for whatevers inside of him and thats why he (hc) started wearing the mask in the first place he knew something was wrong w him but he didnt want anyone to know even tho they would most likely help him he was ashamed that he was different in the first place so he started wearing the mask once the other eyes showed up. and i think that the god would talk to dream similarly to how technos voices work yk? except its just the one voice instead of many many small ones. and again with the mask thing when he lost to tommy and they took him in, part of his mask broke to the point where u could see just a bit of the right side of his face but enough to see that it Wasnt Right there were two eyes where there shouldve been one and spots on his cheeks bright enough to resemble stars and where the color of his pupil should have been is just a sickeningly neon green with nothing else behind it. so they let him keep the mask even tho they already know something is wrong but it clearly makes him Very Distressed when asked to remove the mask or told to give it up. blah blah blah god harassing its host bc it got them caught and thrown in a prison and dream goes ever so slightly insane having to share a mind and body with a literal ancient god w a vendetta against everything hes built whos forced him to sacrifice everything he loved and cared for out of fear yk the usual prison shit and then techno comes a long and breaks him out or whatever but on their way back to his house he drops a really cryptic line abt how 'its nice to see an old friend again' and 'i thought i got rid of u for good last time' and dream is just ???? what are u talking about?? weve never been friends and youve never gotten rid of me? what. until techno spins around and just 'im not talking to you im talking to the thing inside u' or whatever and dreams eyes flash some brilliant gold or sumn and boom this is ur fellow god speaking how may i help you and dream xd (that feels so wrong to say but) and techno bond or well ig just talk abt how the past centuries have gone and ig while xd is fronting (??? i think itd kinda be like DID in a sense w multiple people being able to front yk?) dream is in a sort of semi conscious state but still hears everything going on around his own body until hes thrown back into the drivers seat (i think that xd would only be able to front for short periods of time due to the vessel n shit that makes sense right) and hes so confused someone please help him hes just a dude who happened to get possessed by a god someone help him so when they finally get back to technos house he sits dream down and explains the best he can without literally melting dreams brain. which would also play into the 'technoblade never dies' bc hes. literally a god. mortals cant kill him unless they have idk some sort of super weapon idk and blah blah blah xd gets what they want and finally has the ability to leave finally leaving dream literally the shell of a man with no home friends materials or anything with techno to basically take care of him until he reaches some semblance of stability again (which would take ages, realistically (wdym realistically) going from normal, to a god sharing a body with you and speaking in you brain living as a single being together and hearing their thoughts, to back to normal but with all the memories of what you did and what they made you do and also no more god speaking in ur head it would take a hot sec to recover from) so he lives with techno (whos, not to mention, another god) for a while until he can fend for himself again and after a good year or so passes and no one hears from dream they start to look for him and see what happened bc he went from the biggest threat on the server to just. gone. no one knows where he went after whatever he did and they want closure. is he dead?? who knows. so george and sap set out looking for him and decide to ask techno for help since hes good w directions n shit also he was the last person to see dream alive so he might have an idea of where he is and they walk up to his house and knock on his door and techno opens it and just stares at them he knows who they are, dreams talked about them before but hes never met them really so he talks to them, getting through the polite hellos how are yous before sap finally asks 'do you know what happened to dream? no one knows where he went and we just want closure' techno huffs and tells them to wait there he (this is the basement door im using his arctic tundra house in my head) goes down the ladder to the second basement, they can hear him talking to multiple people (ranboo phil dream) but cant tell who everyone is before coming back up the ladder, back to the door. he tells them to wait outside he needs to get something first (its dream hes getting dream) theyre standing out by carls stable when the door creaks open and dream steps out looking around for who the fuck could possibly be looking for them he betrayed everyone and most people thought he was dead who could possibly be here asking for himself and not ranboo or philza and when he steps out, his green hoodie (memento made by ranboo to help him cope w the loss of the voice in his head) catching the morning light off the snow and he was happy and then he saw them standing by the house hed grown to call home at least for now he breaks. he missed them so so much it hurt. he never expected to see them ever again much less them come looking to see him but hes scared he realizes he doesnt know what to say there is nothing to say he fucked them all over he ruined everything and then hes being hugged. they missed him too. they dont forgive him jsut yet but they missed him and thats enough for him right now. the three of them stand there just being in each others presences and techno creaks the door open to make sure they arent trying to kill each other and sighs and leans against the frame smiling. hes happy again and thats the best he can do for him. he invites them all in and offers to explain everything to them to try and ease the blame off of dream bc in all honesty it was his fault but xd made it far far worse that it should have been (a bit late but foot note abt xd i think that they would be an idle god until someone w intense feelings of powerlessness and insecurity like awoke them from their techno induced slumber and inhabited dream to help him fulfill his desires for power and control) and by the time he and dream are finished its late at night and sap and george are ??? so u were possessed by a god who techno killed centuries ago in a duel and it amplified ur feelings of insecurity and ur thirst for control to the point of isolating urself from us and destroying everything everyone cared abt?? also technos an ancient god who lusts for bloodshed but also makes turtle farms in his free time?? are we getting this right????? and techno and dream are just yea thats abt it glad this all made sense then they all go to bed (its a small house dream has a lil shack like ranboos and sap and george somehow slept over there for the night) and in the morning sap and george leave again but promise to come back, they still arent ready to forgive and forget bc even tho it wasnt all his fault his emotions getting away from him is what caused this all in the first place so they do need time to process now that they know he isnt dead and dream continues to live near techno in almost full independence and eventually moves back with his friends even tho many still hate him. hes happy and for now thats enough. another foot note; even after xd leaves his being, he still has the extra eyes, glowy freckles n is xtra tall n shit that cant just be reversed but now that hes himself again these things take their tolls on human bodies so i think hed have something at least similar to arthritis bc of how his bones were literally manipulated bc of how strong ethereal magic or whatever is. so he would still wear the broken mask but he takes it off now and is ok with it being off hes working on getting better now that hes himself again and everyone living w/by techno is helping him with that. also i think that he would get blinks of xd's memories like from when techno was killing them and have sumn like ptsd panic attacks from it and techno feels super guilty abt it but theres literally nothing he can do except apologize and after the first few times dream stopped him from apologizing bc it is his fault but he didnt do it to him so it doesnt matter to dream at least and they live in pretty much harmony until dream finally moves back in w george and sap the end. he also started wearing the mask in the first place bc of the extra eyes but he played it off as being uncomfortable around new people and not wanting them to know what he looked like until he trusted them (bc that literally makes sense irl how funky is that) so sap and george never pushed him and when they caught him without it on on the rare occasion they wouldnt pressure him to leave it off or anything even tho they already knew what he looked like (when they respect ur boundaries </3) they just assumed that it was insecurity (it was but also mans had like 3 eyes so) and just left him alone

[softestsaddestbitch]

December TC Challenge

stole this from @elder-edda (sorry for creeping! just, given the usual demographic of the tc community I was excited to find another 20-smthg)

1) what color is your tc’s hair?

He has just, simple brown hair but he’s starting to go grey which, no lie, is 100% doing it for me.

2) is your tc married?

Yes? He doesn’t wear a ring and I believe she kept her last name which makes me think it’s more of a civil partnership since they’ve been together since the early 2000s at least. But he also will refer to her as “my wife” and was telling me once that they waited until “after they got married” before moving in together.

3) if yes, do you care? would you do something with them regardless of their marriage?

I know these questions are general but I do take offense at the idea of being a homewrecker/other woman. I’ve met his wife, she’s really nice.

4) what’s your worst memory with your tc?

I put my foot in my mouth SO OFTEN. Good lord. Especially my last semester at that school? He was acting weird and I had just realized after fucking ... four years?? that I romantically liked him. So I kept bringing up my weird age fixation and other bs bc I have adhd and am possibly autistic?? and can’t read a room to save my life.

5) what’s your best memory with your tc?

One year we had a really bad snowstorm, so bad in fact that I had my first-ever snow day. The college that I used to go to has four campuses across as many cities, and C has to drive in twice a week to my (old) town from his. Now, morning classes had been canceled but afternoon classes had been given the go-ahead. C, who does not check his emails until he arrives at campus, evidently did not get this message until he was already in town and therefore didn’t have a morning class, but did have an afternoon class. On this day I had a late morning class that had been reinstated, but my prof didn’t get that memo so I also was on campus but didn’t have a class. So I went to visit his office, which I had been doing throughout the semester (I didn’t have a class with him at the time) and we just ... hung out for like 2 hours. It was so nice and one of the anecdotes he told me still haunts me lol.

sidenote: at the time, I hadn’t yet realized that I liked him, but I still went out of my way to visit him. Damn I was a dumbass.

6) does anyone in your school know how you feel?

ish? I told a classmate but in a “haha joking” kinda way. And a friend who went to that school knows. No one at my current school knows.

7) does your tc know how you feel?

I think he might? might have a lil inkling which would explain why he started acting so weird my last semester. Or at the very least was told/realized how bad it could look that he was getting so chummy w/ a student.

8) do you think there’s any chance your tc reciprocates your feelings?

He and his wife have been together for around 20 years now. No. No, I don’t think so. Maybe in an alternate universe.

9) are you getting your tc a christmas present? if so, what is it?

I have in the past! Specifically like, a tin of cookies lol. I’ve also given him an actual present when I left. I do intend to send him a Christmas card every year but not this year because ... you know ... the apocalypse.

10) have you ever flirted with your tc?

Flirtation inherently has intent. So, no. How he interpreted our interactions I don’t know.

11) how long have you had a crush on them? what began it all?

SO! TIMELINE!

I was at my old school from September 2014-April 2019, I had C for the first time in September 2015. Like I mentioned above, I did not realize I had a crush on him until literally the middle of my final exam of my class with him December 2018, so I’ve only consciously had a crush for about two years now. However, as I also mentioned, I went out of my way to stop by his office, even when I didn’t have a class with him. And my relationship with/feelings towards him are complicated so I’m not going to say I did so solely because I like him, but I would put it maybe closer to somewhere in 2017. You don’t plan your schedule around someone you don’t feel strong feelings for.

12) do you believe you’ll get over them shortly after you stop taking their class/have the chance to spend time with them?

As of today, it has been been exactly a year and a half since I last him in person. In the time since, I have cried over missing him, routinely gone back to keep up with his current research projects, and made his picture a part of my home screen. I almost exclusively listen to the playlist I made for him -  so much so my Spotify Wrapped is pretty much that playlist with a few extras.

13) what kind of grades do you get in their class?

Haaaaaa pre-supension I was failing his classes. My first semester back I got .... a mid/high 70? and I finished my last class with him with an A+ and the essay I had written for his class had the highest grade between the two classes so..

14) does your tc ever do any tiny, little things that you adore?

When he puts a hand in his pocket and leans against the wall. When he tucks his hair behind his ear because he keeps falling in his face (he has long hair, a little past his shoulders). When he can’t stop himself from googling something even if its in the middle of class. How you can ask him anything at any time. The way he would chuckle at my jokes. How his handwriting hasn’t improved in decades. How easily he brushes off toxic masculinity. His candidness and willingness to share little anecdotes. The way he used to always smile whenever he saw me. That he goes home everyday to have lunch with his wife.

15) are you their favorite student?

I was! And it was obvious to other students that we had a friendly, casual relationship too. For a time, if his other students had questions about him they would ask me, and I usually had the answer. I didn’t matter in the long run, but I was. 

16) do you two share any tastes? movies, books, music, etc.

He’s a legal historian, I’m a baby legal/political historian. We also like the same historical cooking youtube channel.

17) is your teacher religious?

I doubt he would say he’s religious, but I feel like we have a similar relationship to religion which is to say no formal association, but had profound effects on our childhoods and subsequently, presumably, how we view things as adults.

18) do you masturbate to them?

Yes.

19) do you communicate with them outside of school?

I sent him a meme once. And asked about the socialist uprising scandal he was apart of. I also almost emailed him while at a museum exhibition with my history friend. These are all through email.

20) do you have any tc songs or songs you relate to your tc? what are they?

SO my number one song this year was “You are the Reason” by Calum Scott because, you guessed it, of him. But also:

I Lost a Friend - Finneas When You’re Ready - Shawn Mendes You Are in Love - Taylor Swift Break My Heart Right - James

& given the season, especially w/ what transpired last year, Last Christmas by Wham!

21) what’s your favorite thing your tc has said/memory you have with them?

One time he kinda trailed off in the middle of lecture after stating that he thought of xyz a particular way which contrasted one of the popular schools of thought, and the way he plainly said, “well, yeah, which I guess ... is I’m arguing it” almost like he was semi-surprised with himself has always stuck with me. 

But also, in addition the memory I shared earlier, we spent an hour and a half talking about grad school and what to expect and how to get there. 

22) do you plan to continue a relationship with them after you leave school?

I trid, I really did. But he doesn’t “socialize with students part or present” so I can’t exactly see him. But I did get some academic-related from him at the beginning of the year.

23) how will you deal during the summer? will you see him/her?

He’s a hermit who used my last vacation before I moved to go on all the vacations he had to postpone because he was working on his last book. And this past summer ... Covid. This question is obviously directed at high school students, but in general, he lives in the back of head always, and when I’m in my hometown for the summer my heart aches because theres a none-zero chance I’ll see him, but I know I won’t.

24) does your tc support gay rights?

Yes. He’s never been put in a position that I know of where he had to outright condemn homophobia, but in one of his classes, he actively made the choice to make the very first reading of the semester about how women in ancient times had more agency than assumed, and also how the woman in the case study was a lesbian.

25) what class do you have with them? And what period? Do you have them every day?

History classes. I won’t get into specifics because it’s kind of an eclectic mix and I’m paranoid someone from the area could come across this. But I had him twice a week every semester that I had him. Again this kind of question is more so applicable to high school students, not so much university students.

26) have you ever drifted out during a lecture thinking about them and missed information?

No. In his classes he is too enthralling, and I’m a good student otherwise.

27) have you stalked them online? what did you find out?

In theory. He’s a fifty-year-old history professor whose reaction to a description of the big lipped/tiny face filter on snapchat was “that sounds disgusting.” The man doesn’t have social media, and if he does those privacy settings are on so students can’t find him he thinks he’s very professional. I do visit his mini-bio section on the college website fairly often tho.

28) have you ever run into them outside of schools? what happened?

I did once. He introduced me to his wife, who said “oh you’re E! C has talked about you” and it apparently he had done so positively, and blew my mind because this was back when I was failing classes and also, as a person, I don’t believe that people think about me when I’m not there. They gave me a restaurant recommendation and afterwards his wife surprised me a they were leaving the restaurant because ... we had listened to them, and they also went there for lunch that day.

29) has your tc ever spoken of teacher-student relationships? what did they say?

It had recently come out that it had been found out that another professor had been in a relationship with a student and he’s the one that brought it up before class one day (with all of us not just me). He didn’t say anything for or against it, just that it was generally discouraged, but that most schools did have policies in place to handle the situation.

30) do you regret telling anyone about your tc? if you’ve kept it a secret, why have you done so?

Absolutely not. I can’t tell my best friends because they’d do nothing but give me shit for it and it would call every time I mention him into question. But the friends that I have told ... its been so freeing, and like a weight has been lifted from my heart. One friend in particular I unloaded on her all my emotional shit pertaining to him this past summer and she was so understanding it legit since then I’ve been less distraught when thinking about him. It still hurts, but it feels less like I’m suffocating now.

[alexandermanes]

ghost whisperer - rnm fic

hey so here’s the ghost malex au/human au fic  wrote but didn’t post on halloween week bc i was unmotivated

hope you like it :)

ao3

Chapter One - Ghosts

“First, you need a location”, declared the man, Tom, also known as MythCatcher on Youtube

Michael nodded then furiously scribbled down in his scrawny handwriting “Location”

“Then, you need to do research- Research is a very important part of paranormal investigation. You need to fact-check myths, learn about history of the place you’re looking for poltergeists”, he informs Michael via the small screen of his phone, “Learn about the deceased’s, their name, their story”

He stops the video to write “Research” on the notebook, underneath “Location”, obviously.

“After that: planning. What kind of gear are you planning on taking? Camera? Infrared night vision goggles? An Ouija board to facilitate communication? What kind of questions will you ask, with or without the board? What time are you going? What time are you going to visiting the haunting site? What are the alleged time of the apparition’s sighting?”

Those are too many points, Michael observes and writes “Planning” as a third bullet point in his “How to ghost hunt” list. Tom (MythCatcher) doesn’t appreciate the term “ghost hunter”, he thinks it’s demeaning since people don’t take ghosts seriously. The paranormal, though, that they fear and believe in. Idiot, he muttered as he pressed play on the video again. He does not care about Tom’s sensitivities.

Michael isn’t delusional, he knows most paranormal investigators are as genuine as his will to admit when Max’s right, which is non-existent. But, amongst the sea of “myth catchers”, Tom is the one that makes the most sensible points, despite the fact that he earns money by making Youtube videos in his 40s and advertises for “high-end ghost hunting gear”. Needless to say, he takes Tom’s points with a grain of salt.

         “Once you have a list of equipment to take with you and a scripted way to approach the site, the hows and when, then you’re ready for the next step: Communication”, Tom states, “Now, this is a crucial step. To communicate with the paranormal, you must be respectful”

Michael isn’t sure what constitutes as being respectful amongst investigators of the paranormal but invading their space, often the site where they died in, and demanding their participation in whatever nonsensical conversation they have planned doesn’t seem like very cordial behavior.

“No mocking, no inviting dangerous entities to that space, address them by name and be polite. Also you must be protected, always be straightforward about the kind of entity you allow to be in your vicinity. If there’s any funny business going on, send it away immediately. Bring your salt with you. ParanormalActivityStore has a ten percent discount if you use my code for a personalized-“, he is interrupted by Michael closing the app

“That’s enough dead brain cells for a single afternoon”, he reminds himself., after that he scribbles “Communication” as a final bullet point in his list.

Michael Sanders isn’t sure when his obsession with ghosts started, although he doesn’t appreciate his interest and curiosity being labeled and an obsession, thank you very much, despite what everyone else has voiced in the past; that’s why he keeps it to himself these days. No, in fact, he actually knows when this journey began, he can pinpoint it.

See, Michael is a man of rational thinking and little faith, a man of science and not religion which is why he believes in ghosts. Every night for a year he sees his mom, not in dreams, and with no previous history of mental illness, not in delusions. Every night religiously for a year his mom has visited him. When it started he believed himself to be dreaming but that wasn’t the case. She never says much, kneels by his bedside, cradles his face with one hand, caresses his cheek and smiles at him, teary-eyed and whispers. “Manes Residence”, those words haunt him but with a foreign intent. Though it’s a balm to his soul seeing his mother smile at him even when her eyes are so woeful, even proffering such ominous words.

It is a mystery to him as to why, ten years after her death, a brain aneurysm that took her unexpectedly from his arms, she began to visit him during the night and why she whispers those words. He has exhausted every method he’s ever heard of: Ouija boards, calling out to her, lucid dreaming, leaving candles and objects for her to communicate through, he even considered hiring a psychic but that somehow seemed too extreme. He tried praying and still prays at any given time during the day but that doesn’t seem to have been successful. At first he assumed he wasn’t doing it correctly, but then again, at the ripe age of eleven years old, in one of the foster homes he inhabited lived a family of religious fanatics, so he doubts he’s doing prayers incorrectly. Especially when hesitating or stuttering during prayers resulted in punishment. This situation is a big enigma to him and it pesters him on a daily basis. He needs answers. If this was any ordinary mystery he wouldn’t have bothered this much but he has bone-deep certainty that this, whatever it is, is very important.  So keeps trying to contact his mom. He tries unrelentingly.

-

Until one day. He makes his way to the Crashdown, Isobel and Max by his side. After a long day of school (he was thankful it was his senior year), they all decided they needed a well-deserved milkshake with a side portion of french-fries. As they entered the diner and the small bell rang overhead, they noticed an unusual amount of patrons for a Thursday afternoon. Oh, well, he thought. They sauntered towards the counter and waited in line, a single person in front of them, a truly serendipitous event. In the indistinct chatter he picks up two words: Manes Residence.

“Sorry?”, he says loudly, turning towards the person who emitted them

Rosa Ortecho asses him with an unimpressed, and frankly disgusted, expression and continues talking to Liz, disregarding him as if he were a vexing fly.

“So anyways. Lydia told me that now the house is haunted. Sargent Psycho took off with hs ten kids or whatever to nowhere land during the nightly hours. Not a soul saw them ever again”, she points out, “dude murdered his wife after she tried to leave him, buried her than grabbed his five sons and fucked off”

“It’s just a rumor, Rosa!”, Liz replied, laughing purely out of amusement and disbelief

“So this Manes House”, Michael chimed in, “where is it?”

“Michael, stop barging in in people’s conversation”, Max reprehended him, an honest to God blush creeping in

“I’m sorry”, Michael looked from Liz to Rosa, “He isn’t usually this rude”

Michael gave him an eye-roll that screamed Fuck off, Max. Rosa just mimicked him while Liz smiled, a bright and toothy smile.

“It used to be Master-Sargent’s Jesse Manes residence, he lived there with his wife and four sons. Then one day they disappeared off of the map and the house was put up for sale. No one ever saw them since, I think, the fourth of July fair last year”, she informed him, “The house was never sold, probably because of rumors that it is haunted. I can give you the address, me and Rosa used to be best friends with one of his kids, Alex”

“Yeah, right up until the moment the left and just like poof, never called or texted”, Rosa supplied

“He probably just didn’t find the time or-“, Liz tried to explain

“For a year, Liz?”, she replied with a very irritated tone, “Either he is ignoring us, completely forgot us or is dead”

Liz gave her a good-natured eye-roll and simply told her she was being dramatic.

“Can you give me an address?”, Michael asked suddenly feeling anxious

Liz acquiesced then ripped a sheet of paper from her notepad and wrote the address.

“You’re one weird little dude”, Rosa told him, though Michael completely disregarded her

He thanked Liz and almost forgot about the shake and fries, the original reason for his appearance at the Crashdown. As they waited, Max and Isobel engaged in conversation but Michael was far too distracted to hear any of their words, instead, his mind raced, making plans about when to visit the residence. Something akin to energy traveled through his veins, similar to electricity, his heart sped-up, he felt restless and suddenly very aware of his surroundings. The movement of brown paper bags being set on the counter snapped him out of his gaze. He immediately took one, knowing they order essentially the same dish, and strode to the door.

“Michael!”, Isobel called out, drawing heads to her, “where are you going?”

“Sorry. Forgot I had something to do at- um, the junkyard. Talk later”, he immediately turned his back on his friends and exited the diner.

He scrambled for his keys inside his pocket, growing more frustrated by the second, until the skin-warm metal found his finger tips and at last, picked up his keys. He unlocked his baby blue beat-up truck and tossed his food on the passenger seat, subsequently starting the engine. He felt possessed, moving by this ominous force, an urgent feeling, but regardless of his feelings amongst other things, he was hell-bent on finding the Manes residence at that very instant.    

[bloodfcst-a]

given the revival of the vii fandom with all of the hullabaloo surrounding remake, i can think of no better time to do this meme. i also suggest you check out my updated nav page if you haven’t already! i worked really hard on it okay sobs.

things a new rp partner should know about me !

write 3-5 things a new rp partner (or those who want to be) should know about you and tag 3-5 people! it should be related to rp and not to other interests. 

tagged by: no one, but it’s a shame bc... i got thoughts. you were warned.

tagging: @angereve​ @enshijou​ @breselin​ @serophs​ @strfe​ @fractempyreal​ @extremepath​ @localmagicalboi​ @shimmerseas​ @duplikiss​ @verumking​ @asterites​ + if it strikes your fancy.

i. i am not your mother’s/father’s yu.ffie blog. while i do have a verse reserved for compilation content, that’s not the main premise of this blog. if you came here for oversexualized underage ninjas.... i’m going to have to direct you elsewhere. out here we’re primarily an adult modern interpretation... who does not daylight as a ninja constantly. she can, however, be a y.akuza or a sheltered member of high society who enjoys kicking ass for justice so if you’re interested in that, y’know. c’mon down.

ii. the typical ‘ yu.ffie is a kleptomaniac ’ / ‘ stop stealing my stuff ’ trope is like. one that grates my very existence. i have talked about this many times, but for those of you who are new: yufi has only stolen out of necessity to her cause. the only time i’ll refer to petty theft on this blog is if she like steals a fry or something. if we’re joking around, okay, but... please don’t consider that to be the sole core of her characterization. i’m begging. i’m on my knees. i’m warning you, i’ll cry and then i’ll probably ignore whatever post you’ve mentioned it in if you’re serious. just. don’t be that person if you’re following me.

if we’re going into it, the only times she’s stolen anything were: > in crisis core, as the ‘ treasure princess. ’  but this is arguable, as the treasure is truly up for grabs to start with & zack repeatedly goes after these locations she’s sent to him ( which, by the way, were sent to her from rufus to attempt to retaliate against + destroy shinra hq ). zack already knew what was up when: 1) she showed up in his spam folder; 2) she literally said she’s on the hunt for treasure; and 3) he knew at least after the second time that he was gon’ get goinked ( please see definition #2 ) so... can’t help him there. > in vanilla vii, when the party is foolish enough to meet her and not recruit her off the bat ( it be ya own self ). to be fair, 99% of her interactions with easterners / non-wutai prior to that moment had been people who either wanted to kill her or exploit her, so... it’s only self-preservation to use them before they use her or worse, leave her for dead. a sad reality for a 16 year old. > in vanilla vii, only after the party arrives to wutai & she thinks she can successfully finish her mission of “ getting all the strongest materia. ” after she’s captured, she does apologize, and then afterward makes cloud sign it in writing. so. y’know, she did learn from her mistake & said “ ugh, guess i gotta put that diplomacy training to use. ”

y’all could argue that she’s a thief class and that’s what they do, but note that it’s NOT one of her core skills-- it’s a MATERIA. which means everyone out there with a steal materia could be out here being a kleptomaniac. cloud? barret? tifa? red xiii? none of your favs are safe. her skills in the game, however, are shit called “ blood festival ” ( oh? see the username’s relevance all of a sudden? aha! ) and “ doom of the living. ”  she’s out here summoning ghosts and reigning otherworldly power on ur ass but... fandom wasn’t ready for that conversation !!  some folks were too BASIC and couldn’t handle her true strength... so i will gladly champion that for you.

iii. i like to emphasize that yufi is an emotionally strong yet traumatized figure, which stems from her origins and that i just put that in the forefront. we have a character who is haunted by her mother who died after childbirth, seemingly rejected from her father yet held to the highest of his standards, has attachment issues because she’s the “ black sheep ” and doesn’t just accept defeat or dejection even if it comes from her core community, survived multiple wars, has led in post-war rescue efforts on multiple occasions, was wrongfully imprisoned, was on the forefront of pandemic outbreaks as a first-responder, joins and rises to the top of an organization created to restore world order, is one of the two top operatives in said organization ( and the one out on the field longer--sorry vin.cent, but u only got involved at lu.cretia and when the actual gunshots disturbed your brooding and wine session filled isolation sessions. but like, mood tho ), pretends to be cheery despite clearly remembering all the hauntings and death and other bullshit she’s been facing since she was a toddler.... oh, and she disarmed bombs when her country was wrongfully targeted + used as political bait for terrorists...when she was a child. that’s canon, if we’re talking about  “ accuracy. ” even in vanilla vii, she had no outlets, no one to turn to, ‘cause everyone was cloud vc: “ not interested. ”  

so if you’re on this blog, it’s not like you won’t see happy  yufi... but realize that i recognize that she is multifaceted and has a lot of baggage. emotional issues which unfortunately i bring to every verse gfdohfofh but u know, it’s core to her character + y’all gon have to deal, or... idk, go find another yufi. i’m not forcing you to be here.

iv. in my opinion, the best plotting comes with ooc conversations/interactions. i’m not saying if we plot that we’re required to be friends, ‘cause i don’t wanna force anyone into friendship, but i truly believe that if you want super deep plots with frequent interactions, we should... probably talk more than once. pretty simple, imo !  sometimes people claim i play favorites, but i really don’t... if you never talk to me and you don’t respond to my attempts to interact, then how am i supposed to know you’re interested? 

as a general rule, i’ll put in as much effort as i receive. if i see you’re interested in me, if we’re really vibing when it comes to plotting, if you’re sending asks & liking posts, we’ve got some threads going, rad !  if i like starter calls and send you asks and message you and you never respond to me... ?  i’ll take that as a sign you don’t wanna talk + i should move on to someone else. if i’m wrong, well... do something to change my mind.

v. i know i went hard as fuck on this meme, but that’s bc I’M REALLY PASSIONATE ABOUT ABOUT THIS MUSE.  in reality i’m actually quite soft + a weenie babie. if you ask.......... most people, i think they’d say i try really hard to be approachable and adaptable. i think everyone who talks to me on discord laughs at me because i’m scared of the stupidest things + i love to make jokes and just be funny and relatable. so please be nice and love me and my sassy fighty extremely tough deprived child. we both need hugs. 

kthx i’m finally done.

[kootenaygoon]

So,

The Nelson Star office was located right downtown, half a block off Baker Street, in a quaint little brick building at the top of the Stores to Shores development. It was within a short walking distance of my house, though I still drove most of the time, and right above a coffeeshop called Sidewinders that I haunted every day. Next door was a small park that desperately needed some attention, with a concrete staircase leading through a shaded forest slope strewn with garbage and scrub bushes. 

The newsroom was on the second floor and was smaller than your average bedroom, which meant I was in ultra-close proximity with Calvin and the two other reporters. Downstairs was the advertising department, our front desk lady Cheryl and the publisher, Sharon Carpenter. One half of a power duo in town, Sharon worked closely with her husband Cam, who was the regional publisher. They were fiercely career-driven, well-connected socially and politically, and had recently become intimately involved in the local soccer league — which meant I was going to end up writing many, many stories about soccer.

Before the Star was born, there had been a century-old institution in town: the Nelson Daily News. Beloved throughout the Kootenays, it had crumpled under its own weight — though most people felt Black Press was to blame. The Carpenters helped finagle the deal to purchase and rename it, a move that left long-lingering resentments in the community. It was about thirty pages an issue, twice weekly, with a regular supplement called the West Kootenay Advertiser and a monthly arts publication called Vurb. When I first picked it up I noticed there were an alarming number of photos with people smiling self-righteously behind big cheques — we called them grip n’ grins — and some of the submitted copy was embarrassing, but there was also an eclectic smorgasbord of different things to read about. 

As I flipped through the pages I felt myself getting giddy over the prospect of doing things in a new way. I wanted to bring my literary sensibilities into even the simplest of stories, and stamp my personality proud on the page.

Because I was hoping to create a sustainable future at the Star, I knew I had to make an effort to get along with Calvin. The real problem between Cass and Calvin, I figured, was they had incompatible personalities. Maybe it was a gender thing. It only took a day or two before I had a pretty good read on the guy, though: he was desperate to please, always making vaguely inappropriate Dad jokes, and operated in a near-constant state of panic mode. His ambition was to put in a couple of years as an editor out in the booneys, then leap-frog up to a similar post in the Lower Mainland. Calvin had come over from the Abbotsford News, and he couldn’t have been more out of place in the Kootenays. He had a round face, small glasses and a neat silver goatee. His right-wing politics matched nicely with the Carpenters’, and he was a big fan of Dooley, but I couldn’t believe the editor of a Nelson newspaper could routinely be heard murmuring “fucking hippies” and questioning whether climate change is really that big of a deal. He wore Chicago Blackhawks shirts nearly every single day, ate fast food at his desk, and often wrote his editorials in the mad-scramble final moments of production day. 

He was going through a tough period in his life, routinely commuting across the province to visit family, and I knew Nelson didn’t feel like home to him. Eventually I decided he was a dude, doing his best, just like everybody else.

My favourite piece of Calvin advice had to do with job titles. He didn’t believe they should ever be capitalized, a stance which had gotten him into trouble with the public in the past.

“This one guy got so mad at me, told me ‘I’m the president of the company, you have to capitalize my title’,” Calvin said, after putting the paper to bed. He grinned, remembering.

“There just happened to be a garbage man walking by the window and I said ‘he’s the garbage man, you’re the president. I don’t capitalize his job title, why would I capitalize yours?’”

Just before I was hired the Star picked up Tamara Hynd, a world-traveling adventurer a few years older than me. She was a tall and slender brunette, with kind eyes, and an ultra-healthy lifestyle that contrasted dramatically with Calvin’s. Her journalistic instincts were on-point, and I was awed by her ability to shoulder her way into situations to get the story. She started mostly reporting on the school board — there was a teacher’s strike going on — but she also got intimately involved in the Nelson Commons project, a condo development downtown that was struggling to find buyers. She cultivated relationships quickly, was professional to a fault and fearless when it came time to bull into new surroundings. She would eventually be the first person on scene during a deadly shooting incident in Slocan, she traveled by herself to cover the Shambhala Music Festival, and she became a regular on the slopes of Whitewater Ski Resort. She knew how to do the job in ways that I was still learning, and she was entirely modest about it. Sometimes I felt sorry for her, the only woman among three dudes, but she always held her own. 

Then there was Greg Nesteroff. During our drive, Cass had called him her favourite person in Nelson, and I quickly learned why. Mild-mannered and polite, he was like a character from a different time. He was easily the most respected name on our masthead, and was also well-known as a local radio personality. At first I had scoffed at some of the prose being produced at the paper, but Greg’s stories were gorgeously rendered and book-ready. He wrote historical features about characters people had never heard of, illustrated with incredible black and white photos, while also covering some of our most pressing crime stories. By the time I arrived he’d already won a number of newspaper prizes for his work, and the plaques were proudly displayed down at the front desk.

One thing I decided to do, right on my first day, was create a new personal Facebook page. I didn’t want my friends at home inundated with Nelson news, and I wanted a professional account that I could connect with any contact without worrying about them glimpsing too much of my personal life. I’d learned about social media marketing through my internship the year previous, and I was keen to mobilize those skills. I searched “Nelson, BC” and then added every organization, every business and every group I could find — effectively turning my newsfeed into a list of story ideas. I was aggressive about adding friends. My plan was to funnel all my content through my newly created Tumblr, Kootenay Goon, so I would have a digital archive of my work. 

When I checked out the Star’s Facebook page, I found it barely active and seriously lacking in photos. The Twitter account was even worse. I made it a personal goal to make sure every story of mine was posted on social media, something that wasn’t currently happening in any organized way under Calvin. He was too busy with laying out the print issues while playing catch-up with his editorial duties to really give much thought to the paper’s online presence. If somebody was going to bring the Star into the 21st century, it wasn’t going to be him.

When it came to divvying up the stories, it became clear that the primary hole I was there to fill was in arts reporting. Greg had crime and city hall covered, Tamara was all over the school board, and there was a summer intern helping Calvin with the sports stuff — he himself covered all the Nelson Leafs games. I eventually learned that the arts section was routinely comprised of press releases, published exactly as submitted, that often featured the same photos being used for that organization’s advertisements. The second half of the paper was often devoid of real bylines, with the phrase “Submitted” splattered all over the page, and all these institutions in town had gotten used to funnelling their content into the paper free of any editorial interference. Annoyingly enough, that relationship was symbiotic — there was no way we’d be able to fill the whole 30 pages otherwise. I figured the more stories I wrote for the arts section, the more we could elbow out this embarrassing content and elevate our game.

Calvin gave me the task of laying out the entertainment page, a chore I quickly grew to loathe, though it introduced me to many of the organizations I would come to rely on for leads — Selkirk College, Oxygen Art Centre, the Capitol, the Civic, On the Road Management, Spiritbar and the Royal. It was often the last thing I did on production day, scouring my e-mail and the internet for details on upcoming events. I quickly figured out that the larger I laid out the picture, the less work I would have to do filling the columns. While I poured my soul into my writing and reporting, this part of the job meant nothing to me. I knew that nearly nobody was turning to the hard-copy newspaper to figure out what was going on around town, while meanwhile there were a number of online calendars that were far superior. The entertainment page was a relic of the print past, and I was interested in the digital future.

One columnist who stood out to me right away was Anne DeGrace, from the Nelson Public Library. She was in nearly every issue, and she always seemed to have some cutesy or experimental element to her prose. The woman obviously knew her way around a sentence. I would later learn that she had been a single mother who had come to Nelson decades earlier, eventually starting a bookstore called Packrat Annie’s and authoring a series of novels. She was one of the masterminds behind ArtWalk, a yearly collaboration between artists and the business community, and she was an organizer for the Elephant Mountain Literary Festival. A powerhouse. Calvin recommended that I meet her in person and I did, at Oso Negro coffeeshop a few blocks from our office. She seemed a little wary of me, perhaps because I was planning to edge in on her literary niche, but happy to share her expertise. She told me stories about the Nelson Daily News before it died, and about how editor Rob Wall was the only one to successfully make the transition to the Star. According to her, people were still getting used to the new paper in town. There was animosity, for sure. She told me no matter what kind of journalist I was or what kind of work I did, I would be perceived as working for “The Man”. And in a community like Nelson, constructed on an ethos of default defiance and grassroots activism, that was tantamount to being the enemy. She sipped her coffee.

“Now you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The Kootenay Goon