#spectriis

DRABBLE ME. | NOT ACCEPTING.

               holtzmann’s entire body is sore. it’s partially from the fall but mostly from the sheer amount of GRIEF she feels at the loss of her first and closest friend.

               she’s seated on the damp ground, freshly turned dirt sticking to her clothes as she leans back against the tombstone. her goggles are pulled down over her eyes and she’s trying with EVERYTHING inside of her not to cry. it’s a futile effort on her part. she knows it’ll happen, knows it needs to happen for her to at least be able to feel somewhat numb to the situation. her heart feels like it’s ripping itself to shreds inside of her chest. this pain alone feels like it could rip her away from the world at any second, and she’d probably go without putting up a fight. she feels b r o k e n beyond repair.

               her thoughts wander back to the first day she met abby, how she’d been cautious of getting too close too quickly because other acquaintances in the past had been much more interested in her brain than in her as an actual person. not abby though. abby had been an outcast too, and it was this that made them close and had strengthened their bond on an almost daily basis. even on days when holtz hadn’t been very talkative or open she’d APPRECIATED abby being there to share a space and interest with.

               she reaches up and pushes the goggles off of her face. instead of letting them rest atop her head like usual she pulls them off completely and CLUTCHES them in her hands. ❛abby,❜ she says her friend’s name before she even realizes she’d been thinking about it. she waits, listens for anything that might be some sort of reply. and she’s met with a sensation of feeling completely and utterly alone. her composure crumbles and she’s left sobbing against the safety goggles in her hands, knees bent and leaning forward away from the tombstone that was acting as a backrest.

                     ❝    oh  ,   this  is   GONNA   be  good  .    ❞   risin g her  arm  ,   she'd   NUDGE   abby  beside  her  with  a  wink  .   ❝   how're  they  gonna  try  and  say  we're  a   hoax   this  time  ?    ❞

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Mun name: Erin OOC Contact: Tumblr IM, Skeepy-skype.

Who the heck is my muse anyway:

Erin Gilbert, doctor of particle physics, Ghostbuster and co-author of Ghosts From Our Past, Both Literally and Figuratively: The Study of the Paranormal. Academic firebrand. Huge nerd.

Points of interest:

Ever met an insomniac scientist with high anxiety and a penchant for paranormal technobabble? Here’s your chance. Erin is so straight-laced that you’d swear you couldn’t unpick her, until she shows you a damn ghost.

She’s also famous. She knows it. She Googles herself and keeps tabs on what’s being said of her on Ghost News, /x/ and Reddit.

Erin’s an emotional wreck. She’s a little bit stunted in this respect, but she feels so much and all at once that sometimes, she just gets a little too over-stimulated.

Will do anything for science. Literally anything.

What they’ve been up to recently:

Busting ghosts, devising new theories on trans-dimensional structure and travel, penning a new book with her research partner, going to the gym (and failing), having existential crises.

Continuing a journey of self-development in a series of easy (haaaaaa!) steps, including (but not limited to) overcoming emotional issues, working up the courage to call her parents, not running out on her colleagues at the first onset of self doubt. So yeah, #justphysicistthings

Where to find them:

GHOSTBUSTERS HQ: The woman never leaves, unless she’s on call-outs or coffee runs. Are you troubled by strange noises in the middle of the night? Do you suspect yourself or your loved one to be sharing bodies with a sentient entity? Strange, viscous substances leaking out of your walls? Well. Like. All of those things have less-than-supernatural alternative explanations, but if you know there’s a ghost... you know who to call.  

ANYWHERE ON THE STREETS OF NYC: Okay, so maybe she’s brilliant on paper, but Erin’s doing her damn best to respond efficiently to call-outs! She loves directly interacting with New York’s restless spirits, collecting field data, and -- let’s face it -- shootin’ stuff. That hot physicist with the proton blaster? Approach her. Get a selfie. Get an autograph. Get you some goasts.

Current plans:

Erin is working tirelessly to further her research in multiverse theory and the dynamic of interdimensionality. A lot of it is theory, but all theory needs an empirical basis -- and all testing can only occur on a fully-functional hypothesis. She’s always doing something, always making plans & lists & acquaintances.

Desired interactions:

Bustin’ makes me feel good! I adore Erin in action, because it’s such a step up in pace from having to write someone so profoundly insecure. Erin is radiant when she’s in the field, coming face to face with the validation she craves. Let’s take down some ghosts and get slimed, yo.

Physics is objective. Physics is relative. Erin is... objectively morally relative. The pursuit of greatness was never all good and true, and I just love pushing those boundaries to see how far Erin would in the name of science. Whether that means working with some questionable folks in dark alleys, or in underground labs with equipment obtained through subterranean means...

Fix this woman. Fix her good and proper -- in the head, that is. She’s a bit of a psychological minefield, and she could do with a little support. She lives to support others, through her work and through her unconditional duty of care. Extend a little o’ the same this way.

Offered interactions:

See above! You’ve got yourself a certified genius who not only believes in the supernatural, but pioneers it. Put that mind (and this mind) to werk for you. 

WhatWerks4U. I’m pretty open. Just run it by me and we’ll suss out AUs, frickin’ love affairs, whatever.

Current open post/s:

I post the occasional starter call, and will always accept from most recent sentence starters. Want in? Shoot me one of these. 

Anything else?:

Nothing. Kisses. Give me.

Tagged by: @havilland

Agent Carter || Accepting

            Holtzmann’s lab was filled with the iconic 80′s beat as she worked away on a sleeker containment unit. The irony of the song not lost on her. But it didn’t stop her. If anything it fueled the fire. She adjusted the blowtorch in her hand to turn the flame towards the ceiling. Flames dancing through the air, but luckily not making any contact with anything this time. Though the fire extinguisher wasn’t too far away this time (Erin’s orders).