vaniishiings-blog

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Hey folks, if you’d like to continue writing with me I have an indie ! hmu in my IMs here or at @diispatches , @resusciitates , or @poltergeiists for the url !

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( martinez, valeria. )

“OH, HEEY, MILA!” val practically squealed as she turned around to see her friend’s sister standing there. she believed the girl to be nice but mila did seem to have some different interests. not that that bothered valeria, her own interests were just a bit more alcohol-centered. “hm, you know, i don’t really know. some townie just told me about this place, and i figured i’d check it out.” thinking about it now, she could have invited everyone else along. however, this bar was a bit more…RUNDOWN than the ones they were used to back at stanford. “i didn’t realize just how far backwards in time we traveled,” she grinned. shoving her hands in the pockets on her jeans, she accepted defeat with a sigh. they were walking. “i’d like that.” at least the walk would be a little more interesting with someone else along. “that’s one thing i can’t complain about. that diner has some good food.” 

mila couldn’t help but let out a good-natured laugh at val as she squealed in greeting. a few years her sister lisa and val’s senior, the girls were mostly endearing to her. not too far removed from the bar scene, she could empathize with her sister’s friend’s priorities. “yeah, townies always know the best bars.” she shrugged with a grin, always having felt a little 1950s greaser to use the term. “are the drinks stiff or watered down?” that was the important question--especially at a local bar--to discern if the town really hated their outsiders or not. snickering at the time travel, mila held up her own phone. “i guess we better trade these things in for a zack morris cell phone so we can blend in better.” shoving it with her hands into her jacket pockets, she picked up her pace long enough to catch up to val and start their trek towards the cabins. “it’s better to stick together anyway. i heard there’s been some burglaries lately.”

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( dayal, avan. )

            The woman isn’t the first — and certainly won’t be the last — academic to roll up into town, but they’re probably the youngest.  Most are scruffy-looking, weird around the edges like they take this too seriously.  Or maybe she’s the last few profs from U-Cal.  The ones who just want a lake trip, a write-off for their tenure gig with little interest in the town itself.  Eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion, Avan palms at his beer,  ❝ Might wanna get a bit more specific with that.  Find an angel, or whatever.❞  He sips from the bottle and its’ warmed over, suds clinging at the sides.  ❝Everyone around here has their own little legends.  You’ll be wading through crap for months.  If they’re even telling you something, not just pulling your leg to fuck with you just ‘cause there’s nothing else to do. ❞   He fixes her a look.  ❝Done your research?  There’s a blog, y’know, I help with it myself.  Covers basics, some private stuff. ❞

“it’s ...” mila trails off thoughtfully as she dunks a fry into the small ramekin of barbecue sauce and takes a bite, thankful it’s nice and crisp and not some soggy steak fry. “... sort of an impromptu trip, if i’m being honest.” she’d always been interested in the area and the tragedy that surrounded the place. like her adopted parents, she seemed attracted to broken things. “i tagged along on my little sister’s spring break trip, so right now i’m just fishing to see what bites.” it was an opportunity to get a feel for the place organically and see if it really was the place she wanted to spend the next couple years in, writing a thesis that would eventually make her sick of every analytic tool she’d learned in the past several years.

“wading through the crap is kind of the point.” mila offered him a disarming, lopsided grin. “or, at least, that’s what i’m interested in. i don’t really mind having my leg pulled, but i do appreciate the concern of course.” there was always a healthy serving of bullshit stories that weren’t worth taking notes on. it just came with the territory and, sometimes, if she was lucky--the bullshit would lead her to something more interesting. 

there had been enough articles written from the true crime perspective on the town, but no ethnographies that she could find—nothing on folklore more serious than a handful of nosleeps or creepypastas ( most of which had the dramatic prose style of a thirteen year old boy ). like most folks, she knew about the thomians and had done some preliminary research. “i think i saw the blog, but the wifi at the camp really fucking sucks.” she chuckled, taking a sip of her beer and tossing back another french fry. “but i’d love to hear more about it, if you have the time?”

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( ibanez, hector. )

“uh huh.” hector nods, brow quirking and head nodding. truthfully, the idea of studying crescent lake, or really just studying anything, bores hector to tears. he never took school seriously as a child, only using it as a tool to socialize and fill his days before he realized he could socialize far better with worse individuals far away from any educational institution. the only reason he even has his ged is because a woman he was staying with a few years ago insisted that if he was going to stay in her house, he had to get it; he should probably be thanking her, it’s easier for him to get jobs that are a little bit more above board than before, but hector only saw it as a time that could’ve been spent having fun. (she ended up throwing him out anyways.) no, the idea of learning about anything really, even cults and mass suicides, seems like a waste of time. well, whatever got this chick’s rocks off. his fingertips slide over the rim of his whiskey glass, lazily looking at her in a way that probably made it very clear he had a joint before coming to the wagon. “well, sorry to disappoint, but i’m not from here.” his smirk looks cruel, but it always looks like that. he’s only amused. “i know, it’s shocking. most people have been here since they first struck gold or some shit, but some of us do end up moving here by choice.” hector picks up his glass, tossing back the last of the amber liquid remaining inside, down to droplets. placing the glass back down, he figures he’s got at least one more drink before last call, waving at the bartender. “i think you’re going to end up pretty disappointed. the scariest thing around these parts is the lack of dental care.”

mila cocks an eyebrow briefly in passing surprise as the guy she’s warming the near empty bar with confesses that he is not, in fact, a townie. there’s not a large population in crescent lake and, aside from those who are interested in the town history, she can’t imagine that there is much of a draw. like many small towns made famous by some terrible event, the only real industry is voyeuristic tourism. people like to visit communities where nothing bad ever happens until it does. there’s something distancing about going to a small town to learn about the horrors that lurk, waiting patiently to be unearthed, in one’s own backyard. though introspective, mila’s no different, but she does try to justify her own morbid tourism by tempering it with her own trauma background and pursuit of knowledge and preservation of individual experience. that’s why she’s a fucking anthropologist and, if she can’t complete her doctoral thesis, why she’ll end up making caramel macchiatos at starbucks and writing the same shit on blog posts instead of academic journals making half the salary. “and what was your choice?” mila asks casually, even more curious about the intentions of a transplant, as she take a languid sip from the spanish coffee that is finally cool enough to drink. “i don’t know--” she smirks, setting down her mug on the caramel colored bar top, leaning closer to him conspiratorially and dropping her volume to a mock whisper. “--i think poor access to dental care is pretty fucking scary.”

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( romano, tamsin. )

it took every bit of strength in the petite girl’s body to keep her eyes from rolling like bowling balls. if she had a penny for every time some ‘nosy nelly’ wanted to hear her lengthy life story. “ well i’m sure you can find every detail about my lil’ ol’ life in the city archives. if you’re looking for a more abstract take, though, i’d listen in on some of the town gossip. apparently my mom has three eyes & my brother was possessed by the tormented spirit of a sadistic chihuahua… or was it a pomeranian ? either way, unless this is a paid gig, i’m not in any rush to be part of your little project. “ tamsin crinkled her nose as she spoke, bitterness dripping from every word. she had no reason to act rudely towards the tourist, yet she couldn’t help but be rubbed the wrong way at the request. “ i’d be happy to spin you a tall-tale, though. i’m really good at making up stories. “

“like i said, i’m not interested in what the archives have to say.” writing an ethnography of the small town’s compacted tragedies wasn’t centered around the facts of the case and it wasn’t within her interest. having survived the murder of one parent by the other, she couldn’t say that the facts were any more true than the impressions of the people affected by the fallout. “though possession by pomeranian sounds pretty damn incredible.” mila chuckled softly. 

“then don’t.” mila shrugged, not bothering to match the acerbic tone. “i’m not interested in coercing stories out of people or making anyone uncomfortable; it’s not my gig.” she wasn’t any stranger to having someone be rubbed the wrong way in the pursuit of an ethnography. it came with the territory. if the girl didn’t want to share her story, it wasn’t worth pushing. after chasing her cousin for a summer to write an honor’s thesis about the string of petty thefts he committed with a group of kids he grew up with for her BA and after a few years of roller derby, getting beat up by thick girls in fishnets, she was rarely intimidated by a sour attitude.

“i’d love to hear a tall-tale, though--even if it’s bullshit. there’s not much of a better offer hanging around.” she gestured to the bar around them to emphasize the lack of good company. “the spookier the better.”

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Hey pals !! Sorry I wasn’t on last night. I have day training all this week and so my sleep schedule is all funky !! I’ll be on later tonight though for replies 🖤

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CREDIT: JUNGLE TRIBE. 

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( lidell, lisa ).

despite it being officially spring and the fact that it was supposed to be her vacation, the air drifting off of the lake was incredibly cold. wrapping the sweater tighter around her shoulders, lisa’s eyes squinted as they scanned the water, half-expecting something to jump out of it the more she scrutinized it. hearing footsteps behind her, lisa glances behind her and sighs deeply at the other. “i don’t know why they call it crescent lake. looks more like a kidney bean, really.”

“maybe great-great-grandpa crescent lake or whoever decided to build a town here wasn’t so good with his shapes.” mila chuckled, pulling the skin of her leather jacket tighter across her chest as well. “either that or erosion.” it wouldn’t surprise her if crescent lake was some man-made body of water created for the camp itself if she hadn’t known better. stealing a glance at her sister, mila made an effort at making light of the situation. “at least we didn’t get stuck on the oregon coast like when we were kids. i don’t know how you can even call it a beach when it’s half rocks and rain.”

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( martinez, valeria ).

AFTER A FEW DRINKS, valeria had decided it was time to go back to her cabin. however, as she stood outside the conestoga wagon bar, dying phone in hand with uber pulled up, her face twisted in displeasure. “the nearest uber is FORTY FIVE minutes away?” she knew it was a small town but this was not expected. her plan to get back was officially thwarted, and she realized she was going to have to walk back to camp in the dark, intoxicated. if only she knew which direction it was. 

after a late night diner burger and fries, mila was almost too full for a beer while she typed up her notes from the day before trekking it back to cabin six. the girls were fun--if not sometimes a little mean-spirited to one another--but it was hard to get work done back at camp crescent lake. on a friday night at the wagon bar? it was even more difficult. hanging her head in defeat, she made her way out of the bar doors before spotting a familiar face. “valeria?” she cocked a brow in surprise. “where’s the rest of the gang?” an entourage of girls were rarely caught out alone on such a trip. mila snorted at the uber wait. “i have a feeling crescent lake’s a few years out from uber, mama.” casting a glance at the dark road ahead of them, she could feel her spine tingle and readjusted her bag; too many scary stories. “we can walk back together, if you want. i need to burn off that bacon cheeseburger and milkshake i had back at the diner.”

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“no. no, nothing like that.” mila shook her head as her smile broadened--a breathy laughter accompanying the words. “i’m not like a ... journalist or anything. i mean, hopefully, this’ll be published--someday--but as a part of my doctoral thesis, so sort of a niche audience.” in her experience, people didn’t really want to know once she got into too much detail. usually people preferred to tell their own brushes with horror and she was eager to record them. “i’m hoping to get a more personal history of crescent lake while i’m here. you know, you or your family memories. or just things that have raised your hackles.” now that the conestoga was starting to empty out, she hoped someone would take her up on the querie--a couple beers in made even the most reserved townies verbose in her experience. “i can look up facts, but there’s no richness in that history. it’s the town’s memories--their little legends--that warrant preservation as much as the facts, don’t you think?”

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( vanessa morgan + cis female + she/her ) / who’s that rustling through the trees? oh, it’s just you, JAMILA ‘MILA’ JOHNSTON. i happen to know that you’re a TWENTY FIVE year old STUDENT. while you’re from PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA, you’re currently staying in CABIN SIX. i think that you’re INTUITIVE & DISCERNING but my mama says you’re AUSTERE & CYNICAL. is that NIGHTCALL by KAVINSKY currently playing on your spotify? well, turn it down please, you’re disrupting the peace. ( lucia+ 31 + she/her + pst )

alright, pals. i’m back from my day trip into the city. it was supposed to only be a couple hours and it turned into seven !! and on opening day of all days. i’m lucia. i work night shift so my timezone means literally nothing, because my sleep schedules cycles bi-weekly through all the timezones. also this is mila !!

some fun facts about mila can be found below the cut. are they fun? let’s find out.

mila was adopted at a young age by her parents’ close friends after her mother’s death, for which mila’s father was convicted and sentenced to life for. there is a great controversy over the handling of her mother’s crime scene and whether or not her father was responsible or not. there’s even a netlfix documentary called there’s no smoke in her lungs about her mother that raises more questions than it provides answers. mila has never seen it.

the liddell’s kept mila’s surname due to her age, but she is very much their daughter after having been raised by them from the age of seven on up. she’s very close with her adopted siblings and is especially fond of her sister lisa--though she doesn’t always like the choices in social groups lisa makes.

after receiving her bachelor’s in cultural anthropology and sociology, mila went on to pursue a doctorate in urban folklore and deviance. she’s chipped away many of her upper level courses and is now working on a thesis. the trip down to crescent lake offered a unique microcosm of historical tragedy, urban legends, and contemporary disappearances--the perfect mix for her thesis. she’s tagged along with lisa to see if she can make anything useful out of all of this.

back home, mila has several hobbies outside of university. she’s a jammer for the palo alto roller derby and an amateur baker. she likes motorcycles, horror movies, and synth.

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hi friends !! I’m traveling rn, but I’ll be on later this evening for plotting / interactions on both mila and Nancy ( @diispatches ). This is a mobile post so it’s ugly, but feel free to HMU in my IMs for plots if you’re interested in either of my girls ! Mila is an urban folklore doctoral student who is staying in camp crescent with her sister lisa. Nancy is a 911 dispatcher whose mother is a detective.

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