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more-than-a-princess · 11 months ago

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There it was again: another instance, another situation, where the solution was perfectly obvious to someone normal and yet for her, so privileged and sheltered and underdeveloped, she was stupefied. Well, as normal as Kazuichi Soda could be: he had a tendency of complicating her life but at least he knew which shops sold what. Practical things, not luxury products or items that were proudly Novosonian-made. Things like kitchen equipment, to replace the ones she'd ruined.

And she'd grabbed him, on top of everything else. She'd grabbed him, something that encouraged shame to linger in her mind even after she'd let go and apologized. "Well, I feel like a fool," She muttered, bringing a hand up to pinch the space between her eyes. "That is common sense, is it not. That there are shops devoted to devices like these and because I am me I have not even considered them." It was a swift reversal of roles: usually it was Kazuichi feeling sorry for himself and Sonia offering sage words of wisdom. Now it was the other way round as she added smudges of chocolate to her face with her stained fingertips, eschewing the nearby chairs to sink right down onto the linoleum floor, one knee pulled to her chest as the other denim-clad leg stuck out before her.

"They are in horrible shape, I do not think there is much reason to fix them now," She sighed, shaking her head at him and his offer of repair. "I can replace them. Money...that is not a problem in this situation." Something she didn't want to broadcast all over the school's campus, but something to reassure him, reassure herself, that as long as she could locate the right shop for them she could repurchase what she had broken. Problems that could be solved with her or her family's financial assets were easy: it was the ones that couldn't be fixed with all the money in the world that kept her up at night. Champagne problems, as a singer she liked defined them.

Money, for example, couldn't fix the fact that it had taken her six attempts to even make the charred, congealed mess still affixed to six baking sheets. She glanced up at him with tired, frustrated eyes, the light having dimmed in them as her patience wore thin. "I hate it," She admitted, her voice breaking with every word as her hands balled at her sides. "I hate being different, so fucking different, than all of you. That I cannot cook. That I cannot clean. That I do not know where or how to complete everyday tasks. All because I have been raised to believe that I am better than such things, that I am above such things. It is bullshit."

He'd already heard her swear in a variety of flavors, a few more that he was certain to understand couldn't shock him anymore. Sonia doubted she could shock him much more after this, seeing her in a state of disorder and mess and everything behind the shiny, pretty veneer that her smile and her title concealed.

Instead, he held out another dish towel for her. Right, it was her mess, she should be the one to clean it up, not him. Shoving herself off from the wall, she got to her feet and accepted the towel gently, wetting it in the sink tap before working at a stubborn dough stain on the countertop. The stack of dishes would come next: that was always a challenge. She either overestimated or underestimated the soap and water required, or she dropped something fragile and it shattered into bits. "Thank you, Soda-san," She said, grateful for the help in more ways than one. Even if Sonia didn't understand why, from everything he just saw, he still seemed devoted to her culinary cause. "But I used up the last of the ingredients on this attempt. No matter what, I shall have to go out to purchase ingredients or premade cookies. And no, I do not want to buy them already made but at least I know they are safe."

From her own two hands, which seemed to ruin every homemade cooking attempt they touched. She shot him a wary look, looking over his complexion with reddened eyes: before he'd come in, she'd been crying. "How are you feeling now?" She asked. "Do you feel okay? If you feel sick, please do not hesitate to leave me be. I will clean this, somehow." That said, it wouldn't necessarily be by her own doing. Sometimes the school staff intervened, in order to avoid more costly repairs.

“U… u-uh…” The mechanic couldn’t stop his face from heating up even if he tried, eyes jerking back and forth between the princess and her hands on his own. He didn’t even mind that her hands were coated with flour and other questionable substances, his heart doing a little happy dance regardless, before a wave of guilt followed it as it often did, nowadays. Dang it, feelings — he was supposed to be moving on, not falling harder!

“There’s… a-a lot of shops you can buy tools from, online,” he explained, trying not to sound too as flustered as he felt. “Or if that’ll take too long, I know a bunch of local shops that sells these kind of stuff. I can um, fix anything that can be fixed, too, so there’s that.” Although, kitchen appliances were admittedly his least favorite kind of things to fix. It might just be because he has bitter memories associated with them… or, well, a grudge against them, but that didn’t mean he can’t fix them if asked to.

“Sixth attempt…” His eyes scanned over the kitchen, an odd kind of awe striking him again. It took some real skill to mess up this badly after a sixth try. He pressed his lips together into a thin line so he wouldn’t accidentally blurt that out loud. It seemed like the princess was genuinely upset about this, after all.

“…D-don’t give up yet, Sonia-san! Maybe you just… need someone to help you follow the recipe, is all!” Determined, he grabbed the nearest towel and started cleaning up what he could of the mess. “M-maybe if we both work together with whatever is left of the ingredients, we can make something good! Something awesome, even!!” He hurriedly cleaned the towel with water from the sink, before squeezing the excess water out and resuming his cleaning. There was… a huge ass mess, but as long as he makes the kitchen clean enough to work in, maybe the princess will consider trying one last time…

“I think if we, like, try to make something simpler, it might work out,” he muttered, although his preffered kind of simple would be the putting-jam-in-a-sandwich kind of simple. “I’m not… er, great, at cooking either…” Which is to say, he was downright godawful at it, but he knew how to make some basic stuff… which he only achieved through a long period of trial and error. “…But!! I think we can cook something decent if we put our minds to it! Just… let’s give it one more try, M—… S-Sonia-san. You don’t want to get some store-bought cookies, right?” he asked, then chuckled sheepishly. “…This kind of reminds me of that time in the cafe. Maybe ‘cause it um, you kind of look like how I did back then… O-oh, wait.” With an almost impressive speed, he quickly grabbed another towel and held it out to the princess. “H-here. Sorry, I should’ve probably offered this way earlier…”

After all, she helped him clean up back then, too.

#mechatiqe #Non-Despair AU: Hope's Peak Academy verse #(Resident princess has moment of weakness and curses yet again)#(Few things unnerve Sonia more than feeling like she's incapable of living a normal life)

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my-one-true-l · 4 years ago

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Is it ok to do asks about supernatural/fantasy stuff? Like, for instance "Wammy kids react to A Literal Ghost haunting their room?" Stuff like that?

Hello Dear Anon! Of course it’s ok! What a fun way to get a running start into the month of October!

Tries to explain what is happening. (Kind of like how he was skeptical with the idea of a Shinigami existing). Quickly he realizes that there is more in this world than he can possibly imagine and accepts his room is haunted.)

He wants to find out who it could be. He does a lot of research on the building, the land, everything he can that could point to who this spirit could be.

He’s ok with the ghost living in his room. Every time the curtain blows when there’s no wind or the floor creaks and he’s alone, he smiles. (He hopes it’s the ghost of his mother checking on him.)

Mello

Thinks it’s Near or Matt messing with him at first.

He searches his room to find out how they’re doing it, but finds nothing.

Asks both of them how they are doing it, but when neither of them knows what he’s talking about, he realizes his room must be haunted.

He does a sage smudge, just in case the spirit is malicious.

After that, he’s ok with it. Sometimes he talks to them when he’s writing or working on a case.

Near

Handles it with the same calmness he showed when he met Ryuk.

Gets the Ouija board and tries to contact them. He doesn’t care if it’s long shot.

Holds a séance with the SPK.

Decides that the spirit is not malicious and goes on with his regular work. As long as they do not become disruptive, he doesn’t care if they’re in his room.

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he will read them stories. Maybe it will help somehow.

Matt

Is sufficiently freaked out. He keeps the lights on while he sleeps.

Is paranoid every sound, every creak, is the ghost.

He wants to know if they want something from him or if it’s just bad luck that they are in his room.

He gets recording equipment and tries to catch the ghost on camera. He and Mello go over all the footage together. They have nothing concrete.

Mello comes up with an elaborate story of how Matt’s room is haunted by former Wammy kid (because they would be smart enough to not be detected) and how Matt must have their room now.

Mello has to sleep in Matt’s room until further notice.

Beyond Birthday

Has no trouble accepting their existence. He has the Shinigami eyes, so a ghost doesn’t faze him at all.

He wonders if he’s being haunted because he has the eyes. He’s always see death coming, why not be able to have contact after the fact.

Thinks of all the possibilities of who it could be. Is it his mother or father? One of his victims? Someone attached to Wammy’s house.

Talks openly to them. He’s sure eventually he will be able to hear them answer.

#L Lawliet #Mihael Keehl #Nate River #Mail Jeevas #Beyond Birthday #Death Note #Ask #Answered #Anonymous #Ghosts

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aleisterfrankenstein · 4 years ago

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Walking into the lab he was sharing, Aleister sighed. This would never do, not at all. Setting his box of equipment off to the side, he rummaged around until he pulled out his alchemy kit. Setting up the multitude of beakers and flasks, he got his cleansing fluid brewing.

While that was working, Aleister stripped all his clothes off, setting them off to the side of the lab. The next step in clearing the lab was a basic sage smudging, to rid the place of all that negative energy that tended to collect around grumpy scientists. As he waved the smoldering sage around the room, he heard a noise at the door. "Take your shoes off until I'm finished please. No sense in cluttering up what I've just uncluttered," he said, turning to see who was at the door.

@wotnastarters

#wotnastarters #carma starter

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incubabe · 2 months ago

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"Alright, what've we got here...?" Brushing the crumbs of her peanut butter cracker snack to the side, Riley gave the blueprints proper focus.

"Christmas trees are generally positioned vertically and use a stand, with minimal motion. Additionally, they are a seasonal decoration, so it's only useful camoflague about a sixth of the year, generously." It would be wrong to simply dismiss Eva's plans out of hand. Though they were again unsuitable, it was a legitimate step in the right direction.

"Many'a my guests are somewhat curious, and will be upset if they see a weapon of war beneath the blanket. (Though I see you have marked it with 'non-lethal.' Good.) Additionally, while it looks as though the design is sound, I don't have access to the apartment beneath me; we won't be able to run a trapdoor. I will say. I kinda like the look of this sage smudge-equipped Roomba? That's a smart idea, but we need to do something to keep it from catching things on fire accidentally."

@incubabe

"Rᴇᴠɪsᴇᴅ ᴘʟᴀɴs."

Blueprints, for an...altered version, of her previous defensive strategy for Riley's apartment. They were alarmingly similar to the old plans, but taking into account Riley's need for 'subtlety', she had made a note to cover the guestroom shotgun with a blanket, and replace the front door log trap with a 'Christmas Tree'. A non-suspicious object to find in such a home.

"Rᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ."

#dustxechoes

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vanosslirious · 4 years ago

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BBS Fic: Polter!Brock

Inspired by Terroriser’s video, he died so he could troll us with this new trick in phasmophobia!

wc: 855.

ch: Terroriser/Brian. Sark. Vanoss/Evan. Moo/Brock. Oc!Ghost.

Disclaimer: Ghost Hunter!Au. Ch death. Humor. Friendship. Swearing. Not edited. Implied exorcism. Demon/Ghost? Happy/sad ending, you decide, I guess.

. . .

“It’s not my fault,” Terroriser said, scowling at Evan.

“Either way, he’s dead.” Vanoss shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal.

Sark was humming as he rummaged through the supplies that was on the metal shelf.

“Is this the last stuff he had put up before...you know, he kicked the bucket?” Vanoss asked, gesturing to the monitor that had a camera placed up inside the house they were parked in front of.

“Yeah,” said Terroriser, rubbing his nape. “I did tell him to stop fucking provoking the ghost, but he doesn’t listen, and now his dead body is on the carpet.”

They both looked at Moo’s motionless form that almost looked like a group of coats, besides his short brown hair and pale face sticking out from his jacket he was wearing. He did not look good when dead.

“Great, we’re going to have to clean the carpet if he lays there for too long,” said Sark as he came up beside him to peer at the monitor.

“We’re not cleaning no fucking carpet,” Vanoss said. “We’ll just drag his lifeless body onto the grass and leave him there until we get everything settled with what’s his face...what was his name?”

“Andrew Philips,” Terroriser said as he read over the report they got from the wife of the deceased. “Do we have to do this?”

“Moo is dead, we have to continue the mission,” said Sark, holding a flashlight and an EMF.

“Great, all this for friendship,” Vanoss muttered, holding the sage stick and his own flash light.

Terroriser looked down at his own flash light sitting on the desk, then he hurried off after the others, grabbing the bag of salt and spirit box. Might as well see what Moo will say about all of this.

They head back into the two story house in a rather nice neighborhood. Apparently, the husband that died had been abusive, so his spirit was quite...dark. They had avoided getting caught by it twice thanks to Terroriser running back to the van to check the monitor. Unfortunately, Moo was strangled to death while their equipment went haywire. He tried getting in there, but Vanoss was already shoving him back toward the van.

Moo was dead. There was no helping him now.

“So, what are we doing?” Terroriser whispered, clicking his flashlight on and beaming it toward the stairs. He had seen the ghost walk up before turning around to kill Moo, but there was no cold spots anywhere in the living room as he followed Vanoss toward Sark.

“We’re checking the writing,” said Sark within the room. He brought out the book and passed it to Vanoss.

“We got ghost writing?” Vanoss said, looking at the scribbled words that spelled out, dead and hate.

“I’m sure Brock wrote this,” Terroriser whispered, tapping the book with the end of the flashlight.

“Maybe.” Vanoss shrugged, closing the book and placing it under his arm.

Terroriser placed down salt around the stairs leading to the room they had come by. Vanoss was playing with the spirit box that Terroriser passed to him, he already smudged a portion of the room. And Sark was using the EMF to seek out the ghost, but so far, nothing.

At least until…

Terroriser gasped when a round tea kettle flew into the air and landed on the ground. If he hadn’t dodged it, the kettle would’ve hit him hard in the face.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, looking wide eyed at Vanoss who was still holding the spirit box.

He flicked the device on and said, “If you’re here, Andrew Philips, or Brock Barrus, please...give us a sign...and if you were trying to hit Brian, then...I’m guessing that Brock since he’s the one who got you killed.”

“I did not get him killed,” Terroriser said.

Vanoss shrugged. “Can you give us a sign?”

Sark made his way over to them, “Brock, if it’s you, throw something toward the bathroom if you’re happy, or if you’re sad, throw it toward the front door.”

The second he had said those words, a cup flew past Terroriser, almost hitting him in the face.

“Ah,” Sark said sadly.

“It’s Brock,” Terroriser said, looking down at Moo’s body, and scowling at it. “Great. How about you try not killing me, Brock!”

“He’s sad, you guys, we should go,” said Sark, already making his way out of the room.

Terroriser shook his head and had Vanoss help him drag Brock’s body out of the house. They left it on the sidewalk as they headed toward the van.

“We should call the ambulance because he’s dead,” said Terroriser, holding a phone in his hand.

Vanoss nodded, “Yeah, that’s a good idea. If he’s sad, we can’t let him linger in the house with the dude that killed him.”

“And what do we do about Andrew Philips?”

“We exorcise the fucker,” said Sark, holding a crucifix.

Terroriser and Vanoss both nodded as they reached for the holy water that they haven’t touched since they became ghost hunters, and followed Sark back into the house.

#my writing #banana bus squad #bbs #vanossgaming #the gaming terroriser #moo snuckel #mr sark #bbs fic #fic writer #fanfiction #fanfic writer #my work #text #words #mine

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archadianskies · 4 years ago

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Whumptober Day 30

Wound Reveal + Ignoring an Injury→ part 1; part 2; part 3

Whumptober Masterlist | 30/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags: Tags: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings × Team as Family × Good Parent Hank Anderson × Hiding Medical Issues × Stabbing × Gun Violence × Gunshot wounds × Hurt/Comfort

It’s a full Anderson house. Well, it will be in about ten minutes or so. And ‘house’ isn’t quite right, given they aren’t indoors and even if they were it’s certainly not a house, but that’s how the saying goes so he’ll say it.

It’s a joint task force between the DPD Android Crimes Division, so that’s Dad Anderson and Big Bro Anderson onsite, and SWAT Unit 32 so he’s onsite, Middle Bro Anderson, and now the mission is wrapping up, CSI will be onsite soon, so that’s Baby Bro Anderson. Four Andersons. They’re just missing Dog Anderson.

“Where the fuck are they, it’s so fuckin’ cold I want to go home and pass out on my bed.” Detective Reed grumbles. Ah yes. There've been killings involving both androids and humans, so DPD Homicide squad are here meaning Detective Gavin Reed is here and Caleb’s patience is wearing thinner by the second.

“Icy conditions are making it hard for CSI to navigate their vans safely.” He informs him because if he doesn’t the man will continue complaining and he may outright murder him. “High body count means they need to bring multiple vehicles.”

“And all their fancy tech, right?” Reed groans. “God we’ll be here all night.”

“No fancy tech.” Caleb shrugs. “Just one RK900.”

“You’re here already.” He gestures vaguely at him. “Why don’t you go put that mouth of yours to use and save us some time?”

Rayner looks about ready to leap at Reed on his behalf which is touching, and of course their Captain is within earshot, a crease marring that handsome brow. Not to worry. Humans have instincts, have automatic reactions to certain situations. Like being handed something out of the blue.

“Sure. Here, hold this for a second?” Human vs 200lbs custom EMP resistant ballistics shield. Gavin meets ground. Rayner snortlaughs and their unwavering Captain, his captain o captain, wavers just a smidge, the corners of his mouth twitching up briefly.

“Oh, sorry Detective Reed.” Caleb reaches down to grab the shield, human still attached by way of instinctual pincer grasp, and returns both into an upright position. “Anyway though I too am an RK900, I do not have the proper qualifications to perform forensic investigations at crime scenes even if they are raids. Rest assured dear Frederick will get to work as soon as he arrives.”

“You little shit!” The human shrieks, voice an octave higher in outrage and Caleb steps away from him in favour of crossing the distance and nudging Connor with his elbow playfully.

“Hey.”

“I see you’ve had enough of Detective Reed for tonight.” Connor quips sagely and Caleb shrugs.

“Can’t believe you put up with him for so long.”

“Not by choice. Can’t exactly murder a fellow detective and keep my job at the same time.” Connor grins, and he laughs at the cheeky expression on his brother’s face. “It’s not so bad now we’re in different divisions. We overlap sometimes, but not all the time so the urge to murder is lesser now.”

“What do you make of all this?” Changing the subject, he tips his head in the direction of the semi-finished apartment complex, the base of operations for an elaborate crime syndicate that saw both android and human lives cut down for the sake of seizing power in the black market organ trade.

The raid had been a dangerous one, and though they didn’t suffer any casualties, a third of the team took severe hits and will need weeks of recovery time. The very nature of the building meant they couldn’t ambush them and having the separate floors meant the element of surprise was lost.

“I think our baby brother has a lot of work ahead of him.” Connor smirks before shaking his head, sighing tiredly. “As do Hank and I. There’s a lot of criminals to question. Reed’s team will handle the human criminals and his interrogation tactic is-”

“Bad, barely competent cop with anger management issues?”

“-sorely lacking in finesse, but we’ll go with that.” Connor looks him over, reaching out to thumb away a smudge of grime from his cheek. “At least you get to go home soon.”

“Soon-ish.” Caleb corrects, making a face. “Waiting for the last party to secure their floor before the Captain can declare the entire site is secure.”

“Still, you’ll be out of here long before dad and I can leave. And poor Freddie will be here long after we leave.”

“Gotta have an Anderson onsite.” Caleb laughs, leaning in to bump his brow against his brother’s fondly. “Okay. I better get going. I’ll see you on Saturday at our place?”

“I’ll bring the drinks.” Connor vows, waving as his brother takes his leave.

Watching Caleb return to his team, Connor idly watches their group dynamic and marvels at how his brother is the furthest thing from the cold, unfeeling killing machine CyberLife intended to release for the sole purpose of crushing the deviant revolution.

They didn’t count on the revolution succeeding. They didn’t count on having their arm twisted by the Kamskis, nor the mounting pressure placed on them by the public after public opinion soared in favour of the deviants given Joss Douglas’ live coverage of the Jericho Four’s final stand. Which meant they offered the RK900 to the DPD as an olive branch, smiling through gritted teeth as Connor deviated him on the spot and it wasn’t a killing machine being activated, it was a young brother who would become Caleb Anderson not long after.

It was a far harder road for their youngest brother, Caleb’s twin, Freddie. Over eight months, while Caleb had his family, had his team, had a growing relationship, Freddie had been treated as a piece of equipment by Special Agent Richard Perkins and his FBI SWAT team. He’s only now just coming into his own, finding his place in the Forensics team and settling into the Anderson family.

The CSI vans begin to pull up to the scene and soon the last Anderson brother is onsite. Freddie gives him a small wave and Connor finds himself smiling as he waves in return.

“Hello Connor.”

“Hello Freddie.” He greets, smile growing warmer as the other RK900 offers a grin he most certainly learned from Caleb. “You’re going to be very busy tonight unfortunately.”

“That’s alright. It is my job and I like doing it.” His brother reassures, eyes roving over the SWAT team at the entrance of the building. Caleb spots them and waves enthusiastically, and Connor laughs as Freddie returns it with the same enthusiasm. “The site has been declared secure, so they’ll be heading back to the station.” He relays what must be the short conversation they just shared. “And that means it is time for me to start working.”

“And time for dad and I to start processing criminals.” He sighs heavily. “Well Freddie, I’ll see you back at home. Hopefully sooner rather than later.” He adds, looping an arm around his brother’s waist and pulling him in for a quick hug.

“Okay Connor.” Freddie mumbles into his shoulder. “Say hello to dad for me?”

“Of course.”

It is a drastic change to go from the team storming the site to the team that arrives well after the action is over. He much prefers the latter to the former. He’s grown accustomed to the stillness, to the attention to detail this job requires rather than the chaos of raids, the incessant hail of bullets under Special Agent Perkins’ leadership. Or lack thereof. Caleb’s memories showed Captain Allen prefers a vastly, drastically different mode of leadership that sees him guiding a tight-knit team and playing to both individual and collective strengths.

Special Agent Perkins barely remembered the names of his own Agents, let alone cared enough to give Freddie one. It’s something he’s had to learn from his brothers; what transpired at his time with the FBI was not normal, it was cruel. His cruelty still lingers like bruises on human skin that take much longer to fade than for the injury to heal. But Freddie is learning, and though he has a long way to go at least he has family now and he has the Anderson name and he has the name Frederick which he chose all by himself.

The semi-finished apartment complex is the site of a massacre. Even before the raid, it seems the syndicate were trying to cut their losses and decided it was much easier to kill the workers, and thus prevent them from being questioned by the police. Even before the raid, even before the execution of the workers, the complex was already filled with bodies upon bodies; missing humans and missing androids, kidnapped and killed, then harvested for organs or biocomponents. Even if Freddie weren’t an RK900, he’d still be able to smell the dizzying scent of human blood, of android thirium, and of hospital grade disinfectants.

There’s too many bodies to be housed at the lab morgue so many will have to be diverted to the hospital morgues until they can process them. There’s no mystery to be solved here; it’s very clear how these victims died. The task at hand is processing each and every one so they can be identified and released for their kin to claim.

Freddie works at a steady pace, his superior commanding him to start at the top floor and work downwards. Most of the cleanup will need to be concentrated in the basement level where the workers were executed, but on the other hand the team will not need his input since the deaths are straightforward. The greatest task will be in trying to identify the parts and matching them to the bodies, ensuring the families will be able to claim their loved ones as whole as possible, and failing that, he will try his best to ensure there’s at least a name, a serial number, so they may be buried with or installed into memorial walls with dignity.

He takes the elevator and several body bags, and begins the task of retrieving corpses. Police auxiliary units patrol the now quiet floors when not too long ago SWAT Unit 32 would’ve been sweeping through. Arrests have been made, but the ratio of arrests vs corpses is highly skewed. No matter. He has faith in his brothers, in his father, and yes perhaps even Detective Reed.

The thing about android corpses versus human corpses is that it’s very easy to determine whether a human is dead or alive. For androids, there’s a certain nuance to determining whether an android is still active or deactivated. And the thing is, humans are still learning how to determine between those two. The android in question, splayed in a broken sprawl, riddled with bullets, is not actually deactivated.

Freddie learns as such, when he is crouched beside the human corpse adjacent to it, because the android sputters to life and the knife in its hand plunges right into his leg. His RK900 programming kicks in and he whirls around, grabbing the android’s wrist and using his other hand to yank the knife from his thigh. Too late does he see the gun in its other hand and it fires at his chest, narrowly missing both his hearts. Tossing the knife aside, he grabs the gun before the android can fire again, twisting so he breaks both wrists before thrusting a hand forward to yank the android’s pump regulator out. They collapse like a cut puppet, jerking and seizing for a few moments before falling still and now Freddie knows they are truly dead.

Police units rush into the room and he reassures them all is well, the android is properly deactivated. He has the pump regulator of the android to prove it. Swatting away the damage notifications to his thigh and chest, he continues with the long, laborious task of finding, bagging and logging each corpse. The thirium loss is steady but not fatal, so he keeps his head down and continues working.

He has completed missions in far worse conditions, and his brothers and father have both worked so very hard tonight that he feels he cannot let them down by allowing such pathetic injuries to hinder him. He is an RK900. In the FBI SWAT unit he was to keep going until he physically shut down, and he reasons that the same level of dedication is required of him here too. It is only fair, to give as much as they expect and he is far from shutting down over such trivial hindrances.

It is nearing midnight by the time everything is loaded up and ready to head back to the lab, and he can sense the immense fatigue laying heavy like a blanket over his human colleagues. There is still so much work to do.

“No.” Lenore says firmly, and he tips his head slightly in confusion. “You’re going to say ‘I can get a head start on these while you all go home to rest’ and the answer is no, Freddie, you absolutely are not going to do that.”

“But I-”

“No.” She repeats, firmer still. “We’re going to run the stuff that needs hours to process, you’re going to just put ID tags on the bodies and then everything goes into the freezers for tomorrow.”

There’s no room for argument, even if he does think he can accomplish much more but it would require him to stay there by himself and they never seem to want to allow him to do that. He is both grateful and confused. “...Understood.”

“Good.”

By the time Dr Olive declares everything is now at the mercy of the lab equipment and can wait until later, it is nearly two in the morning. Which is fine, since Freddie changed out of his damaged uniform upon arrival and applied dermal nano patches to cover the wounds to stem the bleeding. It could wait until he got home and had access to the first aid kit in the bathroom, since he was needed here at the lab to do actual work and not waste time tinkering on such small matters.

He hangs up his lab coat, thumb brushing over the embroidered ‘Dr. F. Anderson’ and finding himself smiling, as he does each time, because that is his name and it’s all his and no one else’s.

The lights are out, as expected, their father having gone to bed long ago but Connor is waiting there on the couch. He smiles brightly, standing and crossing the distance to envelope him in a hug.

“Didn’t think I’d see you until much later, actually.” Connor admits, and Freddie clings for a moment longer because it is a luxury he can afford.

“We processed what we could and are letting the machines run some tests until we come back later. The humans need their rest.”

“They do indeed.” His brother laughs. “Do you want to continue watching the space documentary we started?”

“Yes please.” Freddie nods. “Let me just change into pyjamas.”

He goes to the bathroom, pyjamas draped over one arm which he neatly hangs on the towel rack while he fetches the first aid kit. The nano patches have kept the bleeding at bay though he now has some mild internal bleeding since the blood had nowhere else to go. Negligible. He props his foot up on the bathtub so he can properly assess his thigh, peeling away the patch and beginning to gently ease the damaged wires together again at their rightful place. He’s just about done when Connor appears in the doorway.

“Freddie?”

“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t realise I was taking so long. I will not be much longer, though you can start without me and I can catch up.” He smiles reassuringly, but Connor only looks at him in distress.

“You’re hurt, how did this happen?” Connor comes to his side, peering at the wound before his eyes widen as he spots the larger one on his chest. “You were shot?”

“One of the androids was not actually deceased and managed to injure me before I deactivated him properly.” He holds out his hand to share the memory, and Connor’s distress only increases.

“Freddie why didn’t you tell anyone?” There’s something desperate in his tone, and he really doesn’t like it. It makes him feel like he’s done something wrong.

“I-I was, and still am fully functioning. It was not impor-”

“Of course it was! Of course it is! Anytime you’re hurt, it’s important!” Connor’s LED spins red and Freddie steps back, feeling his own stress levels rise. He’s done something wrong, he has, and it’s made Connor upset. “Freddie- Freddie, no, don’t- I’m not- I’m not angry with you, I’m just- you’re important, you know this, right? You’re important to me. To Caleb. To dad. To your whole forensics team who care so very much about you. When you’re hurt, that’s bad. That’s- that’s not something you brush aside until you’re alone. You don’t have to do this alone.”

His brother is upset and he thinks he understands now, and it’s because he loves him in a way no one at the FBI loved him, and when he’s hurt it upsets Connor because Connor doesn’t want him to be hurt. It’s a revelation to him, and it must show on his face because Connor draws him close and hugs him again, mindful of the chest wound as he presses closely.

“Okay, Connor.” He murmurs into his brother’s shoulder, nuzzling the soft fabric. “I’ll ask for help next time it happens.”

Connor inspects his chest wound, LED still red as he shakes his head. “We can’t repair this one, not even together. It would require-”

“I’ve repaired gunshot wounds by myself before.” Freddie blinks, tipping his head slightly. “I was only repaired by the technician if I lost consciousness from multiple injuries.”

He’s done it again. He’s said something wrong, only now he recognises it’s not wrong so much as distressing because it’s something bad, and he has lived his life believing bad things were normal things and is now trying to unlearn such beliefs.

“I can do it,” Freddie says slowly, “but I would appreciate it very much if you could help me, please? I can instruct you how. It will be easier with someone helping me.”

It is easier, and faster too, to have someone helping with the repair process. Everything has been set back in its right place, and his self-repair program will kick in and mend the rest. He drinks two full bottles of thirium to replace his bloodloss and by then it doesn’t seem like Connor is interested in watching the documentary at all.

He is staring anxiously at the door, and Freddie doesn’t know why because it is nearing three in the morning now and no one else should be coming. But someone does come, in fact, because the door is unlocked by the only other person who should have a key and there’s Caleb with a worried look on his face, and Freddie realises Connor must have been talking to him the whole time, keeping him updated with what was happening.

“They said the top floor was clear.” Caleb looks pained. “They said it was clear. That’s why David said the site was secure.”

“Your colleagues who cleared the floor are human.” Freddie points out, as Caleb rushes to him and gathers him up into a tight hug. “They did not realise one of the androids was still active.”

“That’s on us, Freddie.”

“It’s not.” He says, trying to be as stern as possible. “And it’s fine. I handled it.”

“You didn’t, you just kept going until you got home and tried to fix everything yourself!” Caleb is scolding him, but he’s doing it in his Caleb way where his voice is mad but his eyes are worried. Freddie feels a tightness in his chest that has nothing to do with his injury.

“I’m trying to learn that when things hurt, I need to ask for help.” He confesses quietly. “I wasn’t allowed to ask for help back then. I either fixed it myself, or I had to be incapacitated, before I was given help.”

“I’ll kill him.” Caleb vows, slight static in his voice as he holds him close. “I’ll do it slowly, so he suffers.”

“Just…” Freddie presses his lips into a tight line, trying to find the right words. “Just help me learn how to undo all he did, please?”

“Of course.” His twin presses a kiss to his temple and finally he feels his stress levels begin to drop. “Of course we will, Freddie.”

*~*

Hank’s not sure if Freddie even came home last night, what with the huge mess forensics were left with after they went back to the station to start processing all the arrests. He expects to see Connor pottering around, making tearium for himself and a coffee for him. Kitchen is empty at this hour. Huh. Curiously padding into the living room he finds that empty too, and so he wanders back down the hallway and to Connor’s room. The door is slightly ajar, most likely left open for Sumo. He finds not one, not two, but three androids still fast asleep, with the Saint Bernard sprawled at the end of the bed.

Leaning against the doorway, Hank just watches them for a few moments, heart squeezing at the sight of Freddie in the middle bracketed by his brothers who each have an arm tucked around him protectively.

Fishing out his phone from his pocket, he snaps a quick photo and quietly retreats back to the kitchen. No harm in letting them sleep in a little longer, they all could use the extra rest.

#rk900 #connor rk800 #hank anderson #gavin reed #detroit: become human #whumptober #annie writes: dbh #the end is in sight

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erin-gilberts · 4 years ago

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So there’s this awesome game out right now called Phasmophobia, and it uses fairly realistic depictions of actual ghost hunting equipment as game mechanisms. As a paranormal investigator IRL, I love it. I think it’s the shit. It’s like ghostbusting but without any useful weapons against ghosts who can actually kill you, but that’s the fun of it.

Except.

My apartment is haunted, and my apartment ghost seems to have caught onto the fact I play a ghost-hunting game.

Smudge sticks are a game mechanism, and one time I left a session and my apartment suddenly smelled like sage.

Spirit box is a game mechanism, and last night I left a session and heard my own spirit box TURN ITSELF ON from where it’s kept in the closet.

I cannot tell if she’s fucking with me or learning new things she wants to try.

#side note #and yes this is my uphill both ways in the snow story #y'all baby ghost hunters are LUCKY #because I remember when spirit boxes EMFs and ovilus devices cost 200$ a piece #they sell them on amazon now and that is positively WILD to me

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rowanaubri · 4 years ago

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@aleisterfrankenstein:

While that was working, Aleister stripped his clothes off, setting them off to the side of the lab. The next step in clearing the lab was a basic sage smudging, to rid the place of all that negative energy that tended to collect around grumpy scientists. As he waved the smoldering sage around the room, he heard a noise at the door. “Take your shoes off until I’m finished please. No sense in cluttering up what I’ve just uncluttered,” he said, turning to see who was at the door.

It was a typical Monday morning for Rowan, meaning she was walking into C.A.R.M.A. with a cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag containing a breakfast pastry in the other, eager to suck down both and get to work after two whole days without peering into a microscope. She used her elbow to get the door open, pushing it with her butt so that she wouldn’t have to unburden her hands when - bare ass. So not a typical Monday morning. Her mouth opened to ask what in all of the gods names was going on when the owner of said ass turned, the words “huge wang” stumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Shaking her head as if to clear it, she tried to gather her wits about her as the smell of sage assaulted her nose. “What in the name of all that is holy are you doing to my lab?”

#aleisterfrankenstein #aleister: 01 #(moved to a new thread for tracking c: )

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posttexasstressdisorder · 4 years ago

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Um...Joe, Jill...

Y’all better order a metric fuckton of Cedar & Sage Smudge Sticks. That’s some SKANKY-ASS ENERGY in there, and y’all better have a team of Native Shamans in to exorcise the shit outa the place!

ANd I would not set fucking FOOT in the White House until it’s been fumigated, and all their “redecorating” torn out to see if there’s listening equipment...

#note to the bidens

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agirlwhodeadlifts · 6 years ago

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The Main Questions.

Here are questions I get a lot. I welcome questions and will always answer them, because knowledge is power and people are only going to stay uncomfortable on the subject of death if we don’t talk about it. If you have any, feel free to comment and I’ll be honest.

“Why do you do this?”

Because I’m a creep.

Just kidding - I love the idea of helping someone who is grieving. Yeah, I go to do the removal of a person who has died, but their families are there a lot of the time, and I love the interaction with them. You knock on someone’s door who just lost a child or parent or spouse, and you’re finding them in the most raw and vulnerable state. I think it’s an honor to take care of someone who is in that position.

“How can you do this?”

With heavy weight training at the gym.

Just kidding, again. It’s a stressful job, there’s no doubt, but I do it with an incredible sense of pride. I imagine that I’m driving up to my grandmothers house and I treat people with that level of respect. I also occasionally smudge my apartment with sage.

“What got you into this?”

Indeed.com application (with zero experience) and an interest in the funeral industry burning bright since I was a teen.

“Is it just you?”

Ah, the question I get the most because I’m a 26 year old girl who weighs 130 pounds. Yes, it is just me. Yes, I’m trained on how to safely and gently transfer a person onto my equipment. Yes, I can handle it. There are safe ways to maneuver and lift weights that seem intimidating.

*disclaimer* We travel in pairs of two if the deceased is in a residential setting, and we still get this question if we travel as a pair of two women. It’s asked less if it’s me and another gentleman, but it does still happen from time to time.

“Have you seen any ghosts?”

No, but I do get lots of strange feelings and I like to think that I’d be sensitive to the presence of a passed loved one.

“What’s the grossest thing you’ve seen?”

I have a lot of these, that will eventually make it into blog/diary form, but to date I have two that are tied. One was a woman who died in a bath tub (full of water) sitting in an upright position who we removed not immediately after her passing. Another one was a man who died in his bed, during the winter with the heat on (completely naked and under blankets) who wasn’t found until over a week after his death. Both super gnarly situations because the variables of heat and water are not forgiving on a human body after it’s functions have stopped.

“How long have you been doing this?”

Not that long, less than a year. For death care it’s not a small amount though, the turnover rate at my company has been super high.

“Do you ever cry?”

In front of the family - I try not to unless I feel particularly bonded to them.

On my own time (perhaps on the way back to the funeral home with the deceased) - Yes, some situations are extremely pitiful.

On my own time - in my own apartment - Occasionally, especially if I’ve had to do a removal of an infant or child.

“How do you decompress?”

I drink a glass of wine. I watch a lot of anime. I workout. I talk to my good friends who I work with. I’m also using this blog as a form of getting things off my chest.

“How does your SO feel about it?”

Well...He tells me with a kiss on the way out of the door to not bring any spirits home. He is very supportive and loves telling people his fiancé picks up dead people. He wonderfully listens to me decompress about the severe decomp I picked up at 2 am or the way a wound was splayed out in the center of a suicides forehead. He is a wonderful man and I love that he embraces my weird passion.

-S

#deathcare #removal #technician #funeral #odd jobs #oddly satisfying #happiness #questions #q and a time

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sanjosenewshq · 2 years ago

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Peak Designs Sage On a regular basis is my new favorite iPhone 14 Professional case

On the subject of smartphone instances, you typically get what you pay for. Cheaper instances from accent makers like Spigen will be superior, however when you actually need a premium case to match your machine that probably prices properly over $1,000, you’ll have to shell out a bit of additional money. That is the place Peak Design’s new ‘Sage’ On a regular basis iPhone 14 Professional case is available in. Peak Design, which is finest recognized for its digicam luggage, entered into the smartphone accent area just a few years in the past with its On a regular basis case line. Together with smartphone instances, the corporate additionally sells numerous equipment like a Automotive Mount, its Out Entrance Bike Mount, a Wi-fi Charging Stand, a Cell Tripod and extra that every one snap immediately right into a built-in connector system that’s surprisingly safe. Whereas the broader accent ecosystem tied to the Everday Case doesn’t actually attraction to me, I’m an enormous fan of the corporate’s smartphone instances. I used its Charcoal case with the iPhone 13 Professional for a number of months and just lately converted to the Sage model of the identical case design with the iPhone 14 Professional. The case matches snugly on my machine and prevents particles from getting inside it, contains a sizable rim across the iPhone 14 Professional’s rear digicam array for added safety and gives precision minimize button covers. Extra importantly for me, it feels extraordinarily premium, particularly its inexperienced patterned cloth rear (much more so than the ‘Charcoal’-coloured model). I typically discover myself absentmindedly working my fingers alongside its smooth backing. As an added bonus, it doesn’t appeal to smudges, scratches or grease like different smartphone instances due to its cloth backing. That mentioned, you’ll be able to scuff it when you occur to drop your machine on a tough floor (this occurred to me with my iPhone 13 Professional On a regular basis Case), nevertheless it’s tough and much more sturdy than any case I’ve ever used. Peak Design sells instances for iPhones ranging all the way in which again to the iPhone 11 sequence, although solely in Charcoal as a substitute of the brand new Sage color and cloth sample. There’s even a model of the case that features a built-in loop beneath its mounting system. The digicam accent maker additionally sells instances for Samsung’s Galaxy S sequence gadgets and Google’s Pixel line. Peak Design’s On a regular basis iPhone 14 Professional case prices $55.96 and is out there on its web site. Originally published at San Jose News HQ

#San Jose News HQ

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duallygirl178 · 4 years ago

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Dearest O'Malley Chapter 14

Chapter 14

I was editing one of Natalie's stories while she was away for an afternoon. She didn't ask me but I predicted she wanted it edited by the time she came back to her office to submit it to a self-publishing agency and as my English skills went to work, I scanned through her work and corrected some mistakes. I was minding my own business when the bedroom door opened suddenly and slowly. I froze from my work and watched with fright. Then slammed shut like if someone was in there. It did it again. It would open up slowly and slam shut again loudly. That door has NEVER done that before! I get off from the chair and go see if anyone was in there. I looked and there wasn't anyone in there. My heart pounded and I came to an idea that I would pay Gonzo a visit. He had a ghost box that would help me find out whose ghost was in my house. I made my way to see Gonzo and I let him know I needed to borrow something.

Gonzo used to be a ghost hunter for a paranormal team when he was 6 years old. He knew how each and every equipment worked. As I knocked on his door, Gonzo answered it.

"Hi O'Malley. What can I do you for? a cup of sugar?" He asked.

"I need to borrow a ghost box because I have a ghost in my house that's slamming doors on me and I'm at my wits end to just get the sage out and smudge the stupid joint." I said almost snippy.

"Sure...whoa, you look more white than normal, you do have a ghost in your house." Gonzo said.

Gonzo went to get his ghost box and when he found it, he brought it to me to use. I thanked him and apologized for my snippy behavior. I was scared to paranoia. As I began to leave, Gonzo followed me which was alright because I wanted him to see this. He and I talked on the way to my house and when we arrived, I turned it on and couldn't figure out which buttons to use and what they do. Suddenly, the door began to open slowly and slam shut and it scared us. I think I might have wet myself. I have never been in a paranormal so scary as this before. We were panting hard and out of breath.

"Can you help me understand how to use this box?" I asked.

"Sure..." Gonzo said shortly and then he walked me through the instructions on how to use it. When we got it going, I point it to the bedroom. There was static for a while and we soon heard a voice that said "Hey man."

We looked at each other in shock and horror.

"Oh gravy train...did you hear that?" I asked.

"Sure did. Sounded like Impa's voice. That is creepy. I'm scared O'Malley" Gonzo said.

The ghost box went static and said it again. "Hey man, I've been looking all over for you." The voice said again.

"That is creepy. Gonzo, I'm this close to bolting out this house and leaving for good." I said getting scared.

I couldn't believe I was hearing Impa's voice! I didn't want to believe it.

"Gonzo, you try talking to him." I said.

"Impa, is that really you? Where are you?" Gonzo said.

Again, there was static and then the ghost box replied: "I'm in the bedroom on the bed."

"Bedroom?" I asked.

Gonzo was looking and he froze in horror to see it. Slowly he tapped me while he trembled and he said my name; "O'Malley, Malley...."

"What Gonzo?" I asked.

"Don't look too closely, but there's something on the bed in your master's bedroom. Looks half formed." Gonzo said.

I turned and saw it. I gasped loudly. On the bed was a car half formed of what used to be Impa. I nearly screamed.

"Ohh my stars! Ohh gravy!" I gasped.

I have never seen anything like this in my life. At least not a ghost.

"Gonzo, I've never seen anything this creepy in all my life." I said.

"Me either. You should ask him what happened after he died." Gonzo said.

"No speed bumping way, you ask him." I said.

"No way, I'm close to calling out Mommy and grabbing me a pacifier just to shut me up." Gonzo said.

"Huh? you're in your 50s dude, you're too old for a pacifier." I said "You're such a big baby."

The ghost box answered our question. It was telling us after Impa was attacked by the alien when he was living, he escaped to the highway and sadly passed away with exhaustion on the highway. The next thing Impa sees is his lifeless body being hit by oncoming traffic.

"It wasn't all bad and I got to see and do some cool things I wasn't able to do when I was living. So how have you two dopes been doing?" Impa finished.

Dumbfounded, Gonzo and I were in a murmur in conference of who was going to talk to Impa.

"O'Malley, you play around with tariot cards, you talk to him." Gonzo said.

"Well you've been part of a ghost team, you talk to him." I said..

"Nuh uh. You should because you read those weird inspirational books." Gonzo said.

"They're not weird! If you had some sense of Buddhism practice, you'd find you'd be a better Baptist." I said.

"Maybe you should talk to him first O'Malley. He's in your house." Gonzo said.

There was silence except for the ghost box going static. I couldn't win this quarrel so I agreed to talk to Impa.

"Impa? Are you still there?" I asked.

There was static again. Gonzo looked up and the ghost was gone.

"O'Malley, he's gone. He just disappeared." He said.

I looked and he was right. Ima's ghost was gone.

"Where'd it go?" I asked.

We went out to the living room and there was the ghost on the couch. It scared us.

We spoke into the ghost box to Impa for a while and when Impa was done talking, his voice started to fade away. He started to say he was being transferred into Heaven. Gonzo turned off the ghost box and we both were left horrified and speechless that we stayed quiet for hours. There was little conversation. I knew I was going to need some space from this house for a few days.

"Is it okay if I spend a few days at your house?" I asked with no eye contact.

"That would be fine." Gonzo said doing the same.

After 2 hours, I had the courage to move to the bedroom to get a few things to take with me. It would be 6 days before I could recover back to the carport.

I had left a note to Nathan and Natalie that I was spending a few days at Gonzo's house. I wrote down Gonzo's number in case of emergencies for them to see. And so my visit began.

One the first day, I had breakfast with Gonzo while I explained everything to Gonzo's masters of what happened and how scared I was to see face to face with with a ghost when my home was a place of Zen and Peace. They were horrified to hear. Gonzo's owners served us grapefruit with cottage cheese cranberry juice and ham. I didn't mind but it was an interesting combo. I ate it because I knew it was healthy. Gonzo's owners gave him some his medicine shot. I was observing while I ate the fruit and realized. Gonzo had pre-diabetes and never told me. I wouldn't have cared..

"Why Gonzo, you never told me you had pre diabetes. I wouldn't have cared. disabilities is what makes a friendship more than stronger. It means a lot to me than life" I said.

"Because I was afraid it would end our friendship when I didn't want this." Gonzo said.

"You don't need to be afraid Gonzo. I've been reading a lot about diabetes. You don't have anything shameful to hide from me. You're still my friend no matter what." I said.

Gonzo smiled admiring my comment.

We talked some more and Gonzo told me more about his ghost hunting days. The craziest one was where he picked up a being on camera with two long legs a scary looking face with huge teeth tiny arms and three bloodshot eyes that was in a couple's home. I usually didn't believe in such horrid nightmare like things but Gonzo's story was so convincing that I believed it was true. Gonzo showed me old vintage photo from 1969...before CGI was invented,...before computers were made. It was a real photo.

After breakfast I helped clean up like a good guest and told about my friend Impa and how he died. Mrs. Lacefeild, one of Gonzo's owners, was drying the dishes while she listened to the stories. Gonzo added in text on things Impa would do that was funny or the best part of the story on one of our adventures together. After that, Gonzo and I spend time together by going out to lunch at Sonic. We talked about plans for tonight. Gonzo wanted to go to the Cosmic Café for some tea or coffee and wanted to go look at books. I added in that we could watch a movie at the movie theaters. Gonzo agreed that would be a great idea.

At 3PM after Sonic, Gonzo and I went to the Cosmic Cafe and browsed. I loved books and found a few that I wanted to have; Paranormal activity by discovery Library, Gods from outer space by Erich Von Daniken, a book about the Le Mans, and ghost stories. There was all sorts of books that looked good. I purchased them at the counter while I waited for Gonzo who was still looking at the sci-fi novels. I looked through one of them while I waited for Gonzo to purchase about 3 books that he found. We took them to the coffee shop and read them while we had coffee. I started to get into the Le Mans story. It was getting good where the ford company was just failing and needing a car to race against the Italians. We stayed there for a few hours and then the shop was getting ready to close up for the day. So we left and took our books with us. We went back to Gonzo's house and we exercised together by having a nice stroll in the neighborhood while talking.

By 4 PM, Gonzo and I got back to his home and let our engines cool off. We looked at what was showing at the movie theater. There was a bunch of horror movies and we kept checking. We looked at a few more and there was one that would be good. So we decided to go to it and get tickets to go see it. The movie was about a NASCAR driver stays atop of his game with his best friend and crew mate in racing until a hot shot rookie comes along and so the two friends must use their talent and devotion are put to the test. It was funny and I sure can relate to the main characters.

Day 2 had come the next day and Sweetie-Pie came by Gonzo's house. She was looking for me. She had told me where I went to and that she had went by my house to see if I was available. I told her I would explain everything to her because Sweetie-Pie was upset and thought I was having an affair.

"Darling, it's not about you that I needed space from. There is something in my home that scared me to believe that my home is rigged with paranormal activity. A bedroom door opened slowly and slammed right in front of my face. Gonzo was there too. I'm being honest." I said.

"It was the scariest thing I've ever since The Amityville Horror. I'll never forget it.

Gonzo said remembering when he and I saw a ghost. He looked spooked enough to be a statue.

Sweetie-Pie looked at Gonzo and believed it. She knew it wasn't a laughing matter or a prank. That look in Gonzo's eye let her know so.

"Okay guys, I believe you. But would it help if we talked about it over our date. You looked like you really need to talk about it." Sweetie-Pie said.

"Yes," I answered softly.

I needed to talk about what I just saw. I didn't want to have ghosts in my house and not be able to sleep at night.

I went out with Sweetie-Pie that evening and I told her about the ghost situation and Impa's ghost being on the bed. I told her how scared I was. While I was in the middle of the story, I began to slow down on my conversation when I got to the conversation about the ghost on my master's bed. Something out of the ordinary made me slow down.

"What's the matter?" Sweetie-Pie asked.

"Just....um.." I couldn't respond to her. I was stuck on my subject but when I gained control of myself, I finished the story.

"What was that all about?" Sweetie-Pie asked.

"Not sure, But it was really strange. Kind of got caught in the supernatural vortex." I said clearing my throat.

"what was Impa like?" Sweetie-Pie asked me.

I smiled and sighed.

“Impa was crude, rude, and

(will continue this later)

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craftymoonphase-blog · 7 years ago

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Making your home a sacred space

I am currently reading “ The green witch “ by Arin Murphy-Hiscock and wanted to share a section she wrote about easily making your home a sacred space. It felt really personal and solitary to me. So I will shorten up the text a bit but this is from her book. I will be working on these things this weekend for my own home.

Look at your décor - “ how you decorate your home says a lot about you “ I agree with this. She asks “ do the colors of your walls reflect who you are? Are there places you have to struggle to get to? Did you place furniture where it fits, or where you like it and feel it fits “ Think about rearranging the positions of décor, furniture, books, knickknacks.

Remove what you don't use - This is a must for me after our move up north. “ You are not using it, throw it out. Otherwise, its just occupying space and blocking energy “

Think about the purpose of each room in your home - “When you decide the theme or purpose of a room, you can focus on removing the elements that disrupt the energy and encourage the desired energy to remain” “ For example, if your living room holds your desk or home office, stores your workout equipment, and is the repository for your children's toys, you can see there is a lot of conflicting energy there. It is not bad, just confused. If a room doubles a purpose, keep those things in their proper places “

Examine your iconography - “ your paintings and photographs have a deep psychological effect on you “ This I knew but didn't realize, if that makes sense. Like when I took a mental walk around my house. There are things that probably shouldn't be on the wall. Not that they are bad, but maybe not good energy for my home. “ take a look around and examine how they make you feel “

Keep it clean - This is a hard one for me. I am a new mom with a new homestead. Finding balance is hard but a must. “ energy can seem dusty or muddy, the same way your physical home gets dirty. Its also an unfortunate fact that energy turns stale and can go bad in an environment that isn't physically clean. “ Its a good point. Energy must flow in the home. It is your personal sacred space!

Purify regularly - I personally use sage in my home made cleaning products and smudge. I try to sage once a week with my smudge.

Hope this helps you! Blessed be!

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tipsycad147 · 5 years ago

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Purification and Cleansing Spray

Yvonne James-Henderson

Image by seannaber

Article by Angie Webster

Clearing and purifying your home, your healing space and your aura regularly is an energetic necessity for maintaining your well-being. This is especially true when you are working with others on a regular basis or if you are highly sensitive or empathic. Burning sage or incense is one of the most popular methods of quickly and effectively clearing old, stagnant or negative energy and had been my preferred method until recently. Then I began developing a dislike for the smell of burning sage and soon after that, my sinuses and lungs would become irritated after I saged the house. My body needed me to find another method of quickly clearing energy.

There are many tools that the Earth offers us to help clear energy and different ways that we can use them. Burning flowers, leaves and essences or oils (as in incense) makes use of the fire element to release the purifying energy in the flowers, leaves or oils and this is very effective as the smoke carries the energy to many regions, cleansing as it goes. Fire is also very cleansing, so making use of this element to ignite the flowers, leaves or oils is beneficial.

However, we can make use of other elements to cleanse our auras and our homes. Water is a very useful element for cleansing, and we use it every time we bathe, shower or clean our home. To make use of the water element as an intentional purification and clearing spray, we need to prepare in advance by adding the other Earth elements we wish to use to offer cleansing and purification. Always use purified or distilled water, since you only want to add the purest possible energy for this purpose. Adding sea salt boosts the purifying effects, since sea salt is very cleansing and is also grounding. You can be creative in choosing herbs, flowers, flower essences and essential oils that you feel intuitively guided to or attracted to. There are many that have the properties of anointing, purification or cleansing.

I like to add Bach’s Rescue Remedy to my Purification Spray. It is a flower essence and it has an overall uplifting, cleansing and healing effect. I also like to add up to 6 drops of essential oils. Lemon oil, frankincense, lavender, rose, clary sage, patchouli, jasmine, tea tree and cedar wood oil are all good options. You can also choose a blend that has some of these in it. Dry or fresh herbs such as sage, thyme, rosemary and basil are all useful. The leaves, flowers and stem of the lavender is useful to add, as is dried lavender. You may add dried rose petals or other dried or fresh flower petals, as flower energy is always uplifting and dispels negative energy. (It is useful to keep a bouquet of flowers and some potted plants and herbs to generally uplift the energy in your home!)

The recipe below can be used as spray to cleanse your aura or to purify and cleanse your home or healing space. You can also use it to cleanse your crystals after use in a healing session. I now use this in place of burning sage or a smudge stick.

Purification and Cleansing Spray:

2, 4 ounce glass or metal spray bottles 8 ounces of very warm, but not hot purified or distilled water 1 Tablespoon alcohol (unflavoured vodka) or witch hazel, to preserve 1 Tablespoon sea salt 1 Tablespoon dried rosemary or 1 sprig of fresh rosemary 1 Tablespoon dried sage leaf or 2-3 fresh sage leaves Pinch of dried basil or 1-2 fresh basil leaves 1 teaspoon dried lavender or small spring of fresh lavender 1 teaspoon dried rose petals 4 drops essential oils 3 droppers of Rescue Remedy (optional) 3 cloves

◊ Steep all ingredients in the warm, distilled or purified water for 20 minutes. Stir. ◊ Line a sieve with a piece of cheesecloth or a paper towel and place it over a bowl. Pour the mixture through to strain and let it drain into the bowl. ◊ Pour into the spray bottles and place the lids on them. Label them. ◊ If you like, place several crystals around the bottles for a few hours so that the spray becomes charged with the added energy of the crystals. Make sure to give Reiki for to your spray for a few minutes, as well! ◊ Shake well before using each time.

Spray into your aura, all around your body to cleanse the aura. Spray around your home or healing space to clear negative energy, making sure to spray corners, closets and doorways, and areas of particular density or negativity. Any area where there is a lot of traffic or lots of electronic equipment use should be sprayed often. Do not spray directly on electronic equipment! You will probably use this spray frequently, but make sure to use it all within about a month. It is all natural and everything natural eventually begins to decompose and turn stale.

Goddess Bless! GrannyMoon

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