FULL NAME: deborah marin baker
NICKNAME: debbie
AGE: 28 years old
OCCUPATION: ghost hunter pizza delivery girl
read her INTRO POST ⢠check out her ABOUT PAGE

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@debbie-baker
FULL NAME: deborah marin baker
NICKNAME: debbie
AGE: 28 years old
OCCUPATION: ghost hunter pizza delivery girl
read her INTRO POST ⢠check out her ABOUT PAGE

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a little update | the last two years đ
After a good few years of being Barton Point's best pizza delivery person (voted for by Toppings customersâ fuck you, Alan Weaver, for even thinking you could win), Debbie decided it was time to move on to bigger things. While it was fun that she was getting paid to ride her bike around town, greeting people who were always happy to see her, it didn't exactly pay the bills. And it's not like any of her hobbies were bringing in the big bucks either. As hard as it was to admit that Debbie needed a "big girl job", maybe it was time.
The first thing she did now that she had free time in the afternoons was start playing baseball again. There was a women's baseball team in Barton Point that met every Tuesday night, and Debbie would always walk, drive, or ride past them, watching longingly because she missed playing so much. The last time she'd played was a month after her dad passed away; the memory of him cheering her on - even during practice - was too hard to bear, so she had to quit. When Debbie joined the team and brought both her love and intensity along, she got everyone to make a commitment to be consistent with practice. Then, when they improved (aka, started hitting more than they missed), she begged the coach to start signing them up for tournaments. Even though they lost most games, they were having the time of their lives. Well, Debbie was, at least.
Debbie's intensity and passion caught the attention of the Barton Point High basketball coach. He had been doubling as the baseball coach since the team's coach quit in the middle of the season because they were - his words - "a fucking mess". He asked Debbie to interview for the job, and she got it. The team is still "a fucking mess," but Debbie would never say that in front of the kids.
Being at Barton Point High, where Debbie's dad used to work, was more emotional than she'd expected. She would walk by his classroom all the time and peek in as if expecting to see him at his desk, grading papers. Many of the staff were the same, so they would stop Debbie in the hallways to talk about how nice he was, how much they admired and missed him. It was hard for Debbie, but it was nice to feel him so close.
When a position opened for a history teacher at Barton Point High, Debbie was the first one to apply. A history major who had never put her degree to any use, except spouting random history facts every once in a while, she thought it was the perfect "big girl job" for her. That, and she got to work in her dad's old classroom, which made everything so much better. Emotional, for sure, but better.
Debbie now spends most days yelling at teenagers, but she loves her job. She gets to wear cute little pantsuits, and she's the cool teacher all the students come to gossip with. It's great.
Debbie is definitely still ghost hunting, but has yet to see a ghost.
VICTORIA PEDRETTI âł sundance film festival

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hellyeahjerâ:
Jeremy chuckled at her string conviction to not contracting an infection from the cut. âYeah youâre built different. Got that healing power from all your ghost friends.â He washed off the cut and wrapped it up in bandages. âYeah and she will be able to check you our better than me.â
âI am built different. Have you ever seen me sick?â she asked, tilting her head to a side. âRight? Hm?â She smiled despite herself and nodded. âGood. Not that youâre doing a bad job, but... sheâs a doctor.â
Archer stared at her, waiting for the explanation to come. He wanted to ask follow-up questions, but decided it might be best to wait for now. âWell, youâre lucky Iâm an actual licensed doctor. Granted, my clientele isnât⌠alive, but it just means youâll be less stiff and more talkative,â he joked. âIs it a health insurance issue? Or, rather, lack thereof?â
Debbie couldn't help but laugh at his joke and she nodded. In a way, they both worked with the dead, and Debbie found that amusing. "No, I do have, uh, health insurance," she said, "I just, umâ" she felt the memories start rushing back â the sterile room, the chemic-y smell, her dad... â and she bit her lip as she felt her bottom lip start to quiver, her eyes warm with tears. She forced herself to smile and she exhaled sharply. "I haven't been there since my dad died. And I can't. I know it's dumbâ it'sâ" she chuckledâ "it's the hospital! You go to the hospital when you have to go, but..." she shook her head. "I just can't."
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did it hurt? when you forget your headphones and couldnât romanticise your walk home?

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Archer looked down, unfazed by the wound. It wasnât the worst thing he had ever seen, but it definitely needed stitches. âHow did you manage to do this?â he asked, examining to see whether there was still glass stuck in her arm. âWell, you definitely need stitches. Iâd recommend you go to a hospital or urgent care, but if thatâs really not an option, I could do it at my apartment.â
"Oh, you know..." she said with a light shrug as he examined her arm, not really giving him any further explanation into how she got her gnarly cut and hoping she wouldn't have to. He'd have questions she wasn't sure she would want to answer. What were you doing out in the woods so late? Why were you alone? What's all this stuff you have in your backpack? Are you the local crazy lady? When really, the better question was: why would anyone leave a broken beer bottle on the ground for Debbie to fall into? How inconsiderate! "Oh!" she felt faint when he mentioned stitches, and even more when he mentioned going to the hospital. It was that bad. "I, uh- I can'tâ" she shook her head. "I can't go to the hospital. It's not- uhâ" she chuckled. "I would much rather not! You know? Um. If we could... do it at your place..." she bit her lip. "I'm sorry, I know this is probably not how you wanted to spend your night. If it makes you feel any better, neither did I!"
hellyeahjerâ:
âShit Iâm sorry.â He cursed as he realized his why hospital talk may be triggering to her. He stepped closer to her and placed a comforting hand on her good arm, trailing his fingers up and down slowly to calm her down as he looked directly at her. âIâm not going to make you do or go anywhere you donât want to Debbie. I just donât want you to get an infection or anything.â he continued to move his fingers until he was sure she was calmed down enough. âPlease let me finish cleaning up your arm and Iâll see if my mom can check you out more thoroughly at my house so you donât have to go to a hospital.â
Debbie stared at Jeremy wide-eyed, then quickly glanced down at his hand trailing up and down her arm. It was much more contact than theyâd probably ever had in their lives, and it wasnât bad - it was kind of nice, actually - but it felt weird coming from him. Too tender for what they were used to around each other, which to Debbie meant: this cut is much worse than it actually looks. âI am not going to get an infection,â she said - as if she just knew, as if it was impossible, as if she said it with enough conviction, it would be true. To her it was. âWeâll put some soap on it, clean it up, and- a-and Iâll be fine. Just fine,â she chuckled. âMy body wonât allow an infection, it wonât,â she shrugged. She felt her entire body relax once Jer said heâd take her to his house instead of the hospital and she closed her eyes. âThank you,â she said, pressing her lips onto a smile. âYour momâs a doctor, right?â
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hellyeahjerâ:
Jeremy was wiping down the counters at Eddieâs when Debbie came in. âHoly shit Debbie.â He immediately grabbed a clean towel and held it tightly over her arm after batting her hand away. âWhat happened? Why didnât you go to a hospital?â He pulled her back toward the kitchen and held her hand under the sink to wash the blood away. âI can put some gauze on it but you definitely need a tetanus shot and maybe stitches.â
âA tetanus shot!?â Debbieâs eyes widened and she took a step back, pulling her arm away from the sink. Any calmness from earlier now completely gone. âI canât go to the hospital, I canât afford it,â she shook her head. âNot on what they pay me at Toppings, no. Not- I havenât been to a hospital sinceââ no,â she shook her head again. âIt canât be that bad. Itâs just- it looks bad because thereâs a lot of blood, but a band-aid might- um, fix it.â
This isnât exactly how Archer wanted to spend his day off, but the doctor in him couldnât turn someone down in their time of need. âIâm a forensic pathologist. Iâm no stranger to blood,â he replied, flatly. âShow it to me. I canât tell if youâll need stitches until I see the damage.â He didnât have anything to give stitches with, so hopefully it wasnât that bad.
"Okay, are you ready?" she asked, tilting her head down and looking up at him before pulling her hand away from the cut. She didn't usually mind the sight of blood, but something about this particular cut made Debbie feel a little lightheaded. "I don't think it's very deep, just dramatic. But I didn't really want to look more than I had toâ it looked scary enough in the dark," she made a face.

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time: anytime between 7pm & 3am place: anywhere except probably rolling hills
Debbie held her hand tightly over her arm and very calmly approached the first person she saw. "Hi!" she smiled. "Quick question. Do you know how to treat a wound? I just- I cut my arm on some very ugly looking glass, and I think I might die tomorrow. Or in 7 business days." She said with a chuckle, awfully calm for the situation at hand. "It's not that bad, it just looks bad. I don't want to show you unless I know you won't faint at the sight of a little bit of blood." She paused, staring at your character. "Okay, it's more than a little bit, it's- it- it's a lottle."
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