VISITATION

                             —    THE    INVESTIGATION    —

TIME: 9:53 PM PST LOCATION: Nerve Center command, main castle hallway

They sit atop plastic folding chairs, the only light is a red bulb behind LILIAN’s head as she talks, clipboard in hand. Interviews have been conducted, the property has been toured, and all audio/visual equipment is up all running. The time has come. Reading off of a list, she separates all investigators into teams, giving them specific locations to inspect. 

“Okay, people. Let’s do this.”

TEAM ONE: Leo, Thea, Owen and Jude — assigned to cottages behind the castle where the more well-behaved boys were allowed to stay. Reports of loud bangs, spheres of light in the woods, and shadow figures are said to inhabit this area.

TEAM TWO: Marco, Jesse and Tamsin — assigned to basement/kitchen in the bowels of the castle. It is known that the body of Anna Corbin was found bloody and beaten here, and it is rumored that her spirit still lurks the corridor where she was discovered.

TEAM THREE: Teddy, Sofia, Amna and Charlie — assigned to second floor dormitories and staff apartments, reportedly where Anna Corbin resided. There have been multiple accounts of disembodied voices, shadow apparitions, and reports of seeing Anna herself.  

TEAM FOUR: Cooper and Lilian — not assigned to any specific location, the most seasoned investigators will float from location to location, assisting any team that needs a little extra help.

* OTHER LOCATIONS OF NOTE * Any and all dormitories, the library, the dining room, the graveyard, and the attic. All investigators are encouraged to explore, but remember, safety first.

WELCOME TO VISITATIONRPG’S FIRST EVENT: This is the first episode of the second season of Visitation, and it is doubly special because it is the first episode to be filmed outside of Oregon. The cast and crew has ventured all the way to California to investigate Preston Castle, a historic boys reformatory school. The entire team has been cooped up in cars for nearly three days, so quite a few of them are on edge and in desperate need of some alone time, so of course, that’s the perfect time to start an investigation! Most of the crew has been split in to teams. This is where your task for this event comes into play. Up above are assigned teams in which we’d love to see a group thread of your investigation! Get creative, but no solid evidence (not counting small personal experiences or fears) has been discovered yet. This task, however, is not required, but encouraged. This doesn’t mean it will be your only thread; please feel free to visit any place with any character seeing as the entire team will be in the castle ALL NIGHT. 

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME/ALIAS: Bel

PRONOUNS: She/Her

AGE: 19

TIMEZONE: PST

ANYTHING ELSE? Nope! :)

IN CHARACTER:

WANTED SKELETON: Teddy Holt

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Male, He/him/his

BIOGRAPHY:

It was Teddy’s first game. He was in fifth grade, and he had scored the final touchdown. The small crowd cheered. His father ran down the bleachers and Teddy felt himself become engulfed in his father’s strong arms. He laughed as his father spun him around, set him back on the ground and ruffled his head. Teddy’s father knelt in front of him and put his hands on his shoulders. Teddy swore he saw tears in his dad’s eyes as he said: “You’re gonna do great things, Teddy! Just you wait!”

That wasn’t the first time Teddy had heard that he was special…and it sure wasn’t the last either. In fact, he heard it his entire athletic career. Whether it was on the field or off, Teddy was praised by teachers and peers, adults and kids alike for his skills, his looks, his personality, his power to see the dead—

Okay, so maybe he’s only heard that last one from his grandfather – his deadgrandfather, to be exact, who stood quietly at the end of the bed watching him one night.

“It’s only a nightmare. Nothing to worry about,” his parents comforted.

But it felt real.

“Maybe you ate an old slice of pizza,” his friends joked.

But it felt real.

“You’re probably stressed,” his school counselor said.

But it felt real…

Nonetheless, a nightmare is what he brushed it off as. Even when his grandfather visited him afterwards, Teddy told himself it was a recurring dream. Something that happened whenever he started to get too stressed with school and a social life. He chose to keep quiet about it from anyone else, wanting to avoid any kind of ridicule from his peers.

But he started to believe he was “gifted” after a terrifying meeting with Kyle, a young boy Teddy described with having a “blue face and black eyes.” While exploring an abandoned trailer park with his friends, the boy told Teddy he was a “rare one” and that he should relish his gift. Teddy denied it, but Kyle said they’d meet again sometime when Teddy least expected it and disappeared.

Teddy hasn’t slept soundly since then.

It sounds crazy, but hear him out! Or don’t. He doesn’t talk about it much anyway. Teddy works hard to look as if nothing’s wrong. At first, sleepless nights were difficult to conceal, but as he got older he found he could chalk it up to late night partying and studying.

Yeah…if only.

Teddy’s “gift” continued to haunt him throughout high school and to his dismay, now has followed him to Reed College, where he more than occasionally runs into unwanted spirits who love to interact with him. The stress from the constant popularity from both the spirit world and the real world has made him desperate to become invisible. Hidden from the limelight. To, dear god, be ignored for once.

But of course, not everybody gets what they wish for. So now, Teddy is forced to put on a fake smile for the rest of the world as he’s worried that if someone were to find out about this “gift” of his, he’d never be left alone.

And right now, that’s the last thing he could ever want.

ANYTHING ELSE?

-       Teddy’s a Cancer, born on July 7.

-       Regardless of what’s going on in his personal life, Teddy strives to be the sweetest guy he can be. His love of making people happy isn’t motivated just by his desire to keep his gift a secret. He genuinely likes seeing people in good spirit. Probably because he knows what it’s like to be tortured and doesn’t want anyone else to feel that way.

-       Teddy doesn’t drink or smoke. For one thing, he truly believes it’ll screw him up in the future. But he’s also terrified of telling people how he really feels, what he’s really going through. He can’t let his guard down. So, for now, NO DRUGS.

-       He likes Hawaiian shirts a lot. He has a dozen in his closet that he saves for what he calls “Hawaiian Shirt Saturdays.”

-       Teddy loves dancing. That doesn’t mean he’s a good dancer, but he enjoys it. He personally feels that disco is the best genre to dance to!

-       He takes strong sleeping medication just so he can get a decent amount of sleep every night.

-       Teddy has the biggest crush on Amna. He just thinks she’s so smart and nice and pretty and he’ll go in the most haunted of houses if it makes her happy. (I just really love the idea of Teddy being a hopeless romantic.)

-       While most of his time is spent working on Visitation and marketing homework, Teddy still loves to play football. He often plays in his spare time or to blow off steam.

QUESTIONNAIRE:

DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE PARANORMAL?

Teddy’s eyes flick to the floor. He stares at his shoes, shuffles his folded hands closer to his body. His instinct is to answer, ‘Yes! Yes, I’ve seen them right in front of me!’

But he doesn’t.

“I…I guess, so?” he laughs nervously. “I mean, I’ve heard a few ghost stories, and to be honest, I’ll never say Bloody Mary’s name near a mirror. Ooh, that’d be a good idea for an episode. Someone should write that down.” He smiles and runs a hand through his hair.

“But yeah. I don’t see why I wouldn’t believe in the paranormal.”

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A PARANORMAL ENCOUNTER?

Teddy’s smile fades faintly as Kyle flickers in his memory.

“I’ve heard like, doors close without seeing anyone there,” He shrugs. “And I’ve had a recurring dream about my grandfather which is admittedly a little spooky, but nothing noteworthy.”

Kyle’s words play again in his brain. “We’ll meet again.”

“Yeah…” Teddy says with a half-smile. “Nothing noteworthy.”

IF YES, DID SAID ENCOUNTER CHANGE YOUR VIEWS ON THE PARANORMAL?

IF NO, WHY NOT?

Teddy thinks for a moment. Has he really thought that ghosts existed his entire life? There wasn’t anything that convinced him otherwise (apart from the multitudes of ghosts he’s seen around Reed).

“There isn’t anything to prove they don’t exist. We shouldn’t say that just because we haven’t seen something that it can’t be real. I’ve never seen a blue whale, but that doesn’t mean they’re not real, you know?”

Something moves in the corner of his eye. Teddy wants to look, but hesitates.

“I just think that people should be more open minded,” he continues. He notices a shape move behind the cameraperson. It seems to be mocking him. Teddy’s eyes flick back and forth from the camera and the spectre.

“I hope the type of viewers we attract to the channel can be open minded about things they might not understand,” Teddy nervously finishes, his eyes now stuck on the apparition. “I think the world will be a better place if we do that.”

EXTRAS:

HERE’S A PINTEREST BOARD! :D

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME/ALIAS: Dorothy

PRONOUNS: She/Her

AGE: 23

TIMEZONE: EST

ANYTHING ELSE? (hi, if the adoption thing is a bit of a stretch, it can be adjusted. I just kind of liked the idea of Angel being the pillar of the family because of the fact that he was their ‘Angel’ or miracle child, and yeah okay)

IN CHARACTER:

WANTED SKELETON: Marco Vasile

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Male, He/Him pronouns

BIOGRAPHY: The story of your character. This section can be formatted however you’d like — bullet points, a full biography, an analysis of the character. There is no maximum amount, but we would like at least 400 words minimum in second or third person, just to get a real feel for the character you’ve created, and to know you have a good grasp from the skeleton!

You spend your days shooting, splicing, and stitching together endless hours of recorded footage, perfecting the visage of a seamless production, wishing for a moment that your life could be edited just the same. If you could just wipe the memory files from your childhood, omit the expressions from your parents faces as they stood over Angel’s casket, jump cut to your retirement, and roll the credits onto a blank screen, you would. But life is not a movie, no matter how hard you wish it could be. There’s no skipping straight to the end, no synopsis you can read that will sum everything up, no way to bypass the suffering through each and every painstaking moment until you reach the happily-ever-after. The finality of it all is something that you despise, hoping and praying nearly every day for your M. Night twist, a moment that seems to never come.

Life at home wasn’t like the coming-of-age movies you and your brother watched most nights when your parents left you alone with the babysitter. You weren’t shy, your brother loved you and treated you kindly, and your parents made an effort to appear interested in your life and aspirations, though you wouldn’t be quick to say they went above and beyond. They met later in life, right as your mother was developing an inability to conceive children. But they made it work, and nearly two years later your brother was born. The procedure was brutal, taking quite the toll on your mother, and your older brother Angel nearly died on the hospital table. He was too weak to breathe on his own, but after nearly three months in the NICU and several operations later, your parents finally had their own baby boy. For a few years they were content in their threesome, finding that raising a child this late in their lives was much harder than they’d imagined it to be, but content they were nonetheless. It was your father who suggested adoption after months of hearing your brother complain of boredom and loneliness, and your mother didn’t require much persuasion before she agreed. They’d always been humanitarians, hoping to change their world through their actions, trying daily to leave a positive impact on the world. And that’s where you came in, fitting precisely into their lives as one of their own.

You never felt out of place growing up, always made to be just another part of the family, always given the same amount of love as your brother was, and for this you were grateful. As you grew up, you looked forward to spending time with your family, as the four of you always made time to play games together or sit down and watch movies. It was through these weekly Friday movies that you began to develop a love for films, consuming nearly any movie you could get your hands to reach as your father’s DVD bookshelf stood from the floor to the ceiling (and he’d learned to keep the more adult movies juuuust out of your reach). Your brother had his sports and his music, neither of which you performed particularly well in, but films – the glazed look in your eyes as you’d pass by a video store, the giddy smile you’d wear as you unwrapped DVD cases on Christmas, the home movies you’d cut into nearly short length feature films – they were your escape. While your parents had wished for you to put your focus into your school work, they weren’t the type to discourage you or your brother from your passions, and even went as far as investing good money into a proper camera and editing software, something you never thanked them enough for as a child, but can’t find the strength to say something now.

Fate had always been a major theme in many of the films you watched, and you loved watching characters deal with unruly circumstances being thrown at them, watching them as they adapted, thanking God that nothing bad had ever happened to you like that. But fate had other plans, ones no one foresaw, not even the gang members who shot your brother by mistake as he walked home from school, a brand new movie in his bag waiting to be watched by the pair of you. Graduation was not even three weeks away when he died, his life all too quickly ripped out from under him like a tablecloth and your life shattered like glasses during a bad magic trick. The funeral was held days later, a closed casket ceremony, which took away your ability to say goodbye. Angel had always been there right next to you growing up, he’d been your rock and closest confidant, someone who taught you the ways of the world in ways your parents couldn’t, and his death tore you into pieces you’re not sure have been fully put back together.

Family dinners were never the same after that week. The silence that now filled the once noisy house was more deafening than you could’ve ever imagined, the stares of your parents nearly burnt a hole in your head as you kept it hung low at the table. They tried to speak to you, to level with you, and include you in their lives as best as they could while trying their best to mend their own hearts as well as yours. But nothing was ever the same, and you could tell that while they were speaking to you, they were wishing it were Angel. You found yourself uninterested in talking, finding that no one but Angel had ever truly listened to you in the first place, so why entertain everyone with pleasantries when you could just… not? Your parents hated it, you could tell, as they began to speak to you less and less as you finished high school, withdrawing yourself to the art room nearly every  chance you got, it being your only place of solace besides your own room. And when you were accepted to film school, you left without even a second glance back. Angel had been on his way to Julliard studying music, and you knew that in order to give his life any sort of credit, following your own dream would be the only way.

You spent four long and tiresome years behind a camera, not allowing yourself to truly ever come from behind it, which led to quite the lonesome and quiet life, though you don’t mind. Your craft is your company, the one thing that can ever truly understand you, sometimes even better than you can understand yourself. Though graduate school was just the next step for you, it took some time for you to realize that in order to truly excell, you needed to network or get involved in a project, one that might open doors in the future. Visitation was just the thing you needed, and it came at just the right time. Though you’re not a firm believer in the paranormal, you can’t help but find yourself invigorated by a fresh curiosity, the subject matter keeping you alert and intrigued, which is refreshing after all these years. You’re not sure where the show is heading, but you’re going to go along for the ride as long as you can. After all, Youtube is becoming a great leeway for creative minds to have a platform, and you’ve never been one to turn down a good opportunity.

ANYTHING ELSE? This section is optional, but feel free to put any extra headcanons or writing/musing here!

His never mentioned it to anyone, but Marco can’t help but hope that he can someday make contact with his brother. While skeptical of the paranormal, something in the back of his mind constantly pulls him to these thoughts (the need for closure, the estranged feeling of guilt Marco carries even years after Angel’s death, and he does his best to rid himself of them by frequenting the off-campus bar.

Marco made it his mission after Angel’s death to watch a movie every day of the week, as in consume 365 separate movies every single day. He started with Angel’s favorites, one’s he’d dismissed when Angel was still alive, finding solace in them, before moving on.

He deleted his parents numbers from his phone when he graduated college, though he still has the number memorized by heart. Sometimes he gets calls from the area code from where he grew up and his heart skips a beat, hoping it isn’t the call he’s dreading the most, that one of them has passed. He’s not even sure if he’d go to their funeral, but at the end of the day,  they were his parents, and as much as it pains him to admit it, they always will be.

QUESTIONNAIRE:

Please answer the following questions in character. Format for this section is, once again, up to you! Feel free to set the scene as if it were an interview and answer each question individually or perhaps write it as an internal monologue from the past; it’s your choice, just remember to keep it in third person, please! This section is just to get an idea of your character’s voice.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE PARANORMAL?

“I don’t prefer to commit myself to any one idea or way of thinking,” Marco answered honestly. It was rare for him to answer interview questions, but watching his other co-stars and crew members answer, he’d been rather intrigued on what they had to say and felt inclined to share as well. After all, he’d been labeled as “the brooding one” of the bunch, which hadn’t really bothered him, but he knew he could cut himself some slack and give the audience a bit of what they wanted from him. “That being said, I’m not opposed to the idea of paranormal entities or activity, but until I experience an event that can give me concrete proof of their existence, I can’t say yes or no.”

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A PARANORMAL ENCOUNTER?

He raised his eyebrows at this question, though it hadn’t truly struck any sort of chord within him. He wasn’t a good actor, trained behind the camera and not in front, so his ability to conceal his true emotions weren’t as atuned as other members of Visitation, which is why when Lillian sent a look his way he knew immediately to change his face. Letting out a soft laugh, Marco shook his head, but took a moment longer before answering. “Personally, no. All I’ve had to deal with are a few soundbites and thermal images, but nothing I’d consider and encounter.”

IF NO, WHY NOT?

This question puzzled him, and took him another moment to answer. “I’m not sure…” He said, though some may have mistaken his statement for a question, as he carried out the words to their end slowly, as if he was trying to deliberate something. It seemed the interviewer was waiting on the edge of his words for more, something to conclude his portion of the interview, but more words never came, and Marco’s eyes shifted from their gaze to the floor.

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME/ALIAS: Minnie

PRONOUNS: She/Her/Hers

AGE: 21

TIMEZONE: PST

TRIGGERS: Removed.  

ANYTHING ELSE? I definitely want to go with the idea of Tamsin pretending to be clairsentient in front of others, as it’s something she could easily use her natural perception to fake. The way she goes about her “psychic” abilities could also definitely get on people’s last nerve, as she does it mainly for attention rather than to help with the actual investigation. I feel like that might cause some interesting friction between her and the crew members, as well as an internal conflict of when she needs to buckle down and help or else risk being left off cases due to being too distracting, and when she wants to get in front of the camera and boost her likability for the audience.

IN CHARACTER:

WANTED SKELETON: Tamsin Marx

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Woman; She/Her/Hers

BIOGRAPHY: When she was in high school, Tamsin Marx was one of the pseudo-royalty. When she graduated, not top of the class but top dog on the pile, she didn’t realize that most people hoped to leave girls like her behind. She wasn’t aware that no one found it charming when she’d sit on the college green and spin stories about hapless freshmen who had a drink too many at a house party last weekend. Apparently that genre wasn’t popular among the college crowd.

Those freshmen became the only ones who would sit with her in the next few months, until they too grew too wise for her poisoned-laced stories and found friends who actually respected them. No one liked a Queen Bee. Especially not one who bragged about swiping the answer sheet from the teacher’s desk or offered to pay their fellow classmates in exchange of them doing her homework. It felt as if she’d been kicked out of her own kingdom. And now, sitting in the moat, all she could see were the paperclips and glue that held her castle together. And it was so goddamn ugly.

Now, when she looked at groups of friends walking across campus, laughing together at little inside jokes, all she could see were the times she’d passed up on “dorky” game nights. Character sheets crumpled up and left to rot in the depths of her backpack while she poured the vodka, stolen from her parent’s liquor cabinet, into the slurpees of pretty girls. Pearly whites would turn neon blue, loosen, and spill secrets that would ruin them and boost her to the top of the social food chain. And for what? To look up at her sister, still miles above her, and shout that she was the biggest fish in the high school pond? No, it was a good day when her sister would even pass the salt let alone acknowledge how far Tamsin had climbed socially.

Her elder twin had always hated the fact that they were identical, and rebelled in a much quieter way than Tamsin. She became the ideal version of the two. The smartest, the gifted one, the one who was going places. There was no love lost between the two twins, just a pre-existing void that ached every time Tamsin passed her in the hallway or glared at her across the dinner table. Her sister would never glare back. As far as the elder was concerned, Tamsin, the thorn in her side, no longer existed. The harder Tamsin tried to impress her the more her older sister pulled away, until one day she pulled so far all she left in her wake was an acceptance letter to Harvard University and an apathetic voicemail for Tamsin to leave angry, drunken messages on.

It was during one of those drunken escapades that Tamsin had her first experience with the paranormal. She’d climbed up to the attic at house party with the sorry excuse of needing to find a wifi signal. The real reason, of course, was to escape a social situation where she quickly realized she was unwelcome. Well, unwelcome to everyone downstairs, that was. She’d been throwing a pity party of one, forlornly tracing the grain of the wood floor with her finger when a paranormal entity made itself known. Not by trailing it’s icy fingers across the back of her neck, but by hitting her in the face with a book. The spirit that accompanied her in the attic certainly welcomed her. So much so that it yanked her back by the hair when she tried to escape back to safety, tossing a few more objects her way for good measure. Tamsin searched her tequila-soaked memories in the morning, but for the life of her could not remember how she made it out of the attic and back into her own bed. And where her new shoes ended up.

Mustering up her courage to go back to the house party was quite a feat, more so due to the snide looks she received at the expense of the host, rather than a poltergeist with the seeming maturity of a five year old throwing a temper tantrum. But, even under the guise of professional journalism, Tamsin’s efforts were fruitless. Either the people living in the house didn’t want to share any information, or hadn’t experienced anything first hand. Or both. The frat boy she’d spoken to seemed genuinely surprised their even was a attic. After that, one thing lead to another. One failed interview lead to one book about the occult. That little book lead to a few more, then couple dozen more, which in turn lead to one class, just for one term. Then it was one little show, nothing that would take time away from her job. Which finally lead to her tweaking her personality a bit. Just a little, until a little turned into erasing everything and starting from scratch.

Wiping her slate clean was harder than she first thought it would be. All the minute things that poisoned her life had to go as soon as the camera lens was on her. And behind the scenes. And around her co-workers. But this process never felt stifling, no, it was a rush. Tamsin hunkered down in the library as soon as every shoot was over to learn more about the entity they’d encountered, or the history surrounding the location. With every piece of information gathered, a wave of satisfaction would wash over her, urging her forward. It was within these pages that Tamsin first discovered clairsentience- someone with an intimate connection with the paranormal not through sight or sound, but through feeling. Someone with the ability to read other people, feel their pain, and had emotional outbursts in highly spiritual areas. Finally, finally she found it. Not an explanation for who she was, but a justification of what she could. Of how she could twist and turn situations like warm wax in her hands.

When she told the others “who” she was, the ones she wanted more than anything to impress, she was met with acceptance. Not excitement, but not indifference either. And Tamsin felt the lump in her throat, which she realized was her heart, drop back into her chest and beat again for the first time in ages.

The little shifts in people’s facial expressions or mannerisms, the things she once used to topple them from grace, she now used to comfort them with no ulterior motive. When someone became hurt she suddenly a supposed phantom pain in the same limb. Through crocodile tears she’d smile up at the camera and tell them it was fine, she’d tough it out somehow. Her big showstopper, however, were the emotional reactions to haunted areas. She’d always been great at faking a few teardrops, but Tamsin was especially proud of the way she could work herself into a meltdown depending on how strong the spiritual presence was. Of course, she’d always apologize later and claim to be incredibly embarrassed, but she was lying through her teeth. Tamsin loved being their canary in the coal mine. It was like playing I-Spy with the building, keeping her eyes peeled for any hair out of place or any fluctuation in the EMF meter. And, if she made a mistake, she could always blame it on past energy.

But Tamsin didn’t just stop there. Psychics, the kind who advertised with blinking neon eyes above their basement apartments, served as both mentor and prey. It was especially exhilarating to look at their expressions; the sage-like faces quickly dissolved into spiteful sneers whenever she revealed she’d been lying about her deceased relatives. Tamsin couldn’t just bury her manipulative tendencies in a chained casket, after all. She needed an outlet.

She did make sure to actually help once in a while, and started volunteering her services when it came to the more emotional interviews. She found that a pretty face, a kind smile, and the assurance that she had enhanced empathetic tendencies went a long way in making the jumpiest of subjects feel comfortable. It was about as much socialization she got outside of the Visitation crew anyway. Any free time that wasn’t spent on the clock, in the library, or hunting ghosts was spent in front of the mirror, fretting about whether a quirky snort or bell-like laugh worked best for her character. If she had any time to sit and think, the irony of her situation would strike her. But Tamsin had no time at all, not if she wanted to be a fan-favorite on Visitation within her carefully detailed timeline. She was so close, so close to being loved. Not by her sister, or her parents, but by hundreds upon hundreds of viewers who wanted to see her. Wanted her and everything she’d worked for. All she had to do was keep up the ruse for just a little longer. She’d chase that rush of acceptance for as long as it took.

ANYTHING ELSE? Headcanons!

Tamsin is a Gemini, born May 11th.

Tamsin has two cats, a Sphinx named Lilith and a one-eyed Persian named Pumpkin

Tamsin is bisexual, and a heavily closeted one at that.

Tamsin’s hobby is writing short stories, usually ones about supernatural lesbians overcoming the odds and falling in love. (Gee, I wonder why, Tamsin?)

Though her main priority is Visitation, Tamsin also works as a journalist for the school’s online newspaper, but usually writes articles reviewing local theatre productions.

Tamsin is currently posing as someone with clairsentience, specializing in getting a “weird feeling, guys” whenever they go into a building, having emotional outbursts in areas with strong spiritual energy, and feeling others’ pain in the same location as them. All of this is usually done when the cameras are pointed at her. Her actual helpful qualities on a case include her keen perception, extensive research on the paranormal, and her ability to relate to and soothe people in distress.

Tamsin has a horrible sense of smell, a sense that most clairsentients claim is very refined. She doesn’t want anyone to find out about this.

Tamsin still tries to develop real psychic powers through meditation, research, and any information she can get from Cooper.

QUESTIONNAIRE:

DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE PARANORMAL?

“Oh, Absolutely!” Tamsin twined a lock of her curled hair around her finger, and gave the interviewer a doe-eyed smile. That smile was stitched together with the kind of smugness of someone who’s rehearsed this hundreds of times over in her head. “There are plenty of things we can’t explain in this world, like why orange juice and toothpaste hate each other or where we go after we die. If we stick around, and whatnot. All we need to do in order to figure it out is a little research!”

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A PARANORMAL ENCOUNTER?

Tamsin’s lock of hair loosened from around her finger, and she nervously tucked the lock behind her ear. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t prepared for this question, but the memories it dredged up weren’t exactly pleasant. “…Yessss. Yeah, I have.”

She pointed to a spot her forehead, right above her right eyebrow. “It got me right here. With a book. A ghost ‘got’ me, sorry, did I not say that? I mean, if it really wanted to get my attention that badly it didn’t have to hit me. Like, ‘Hello, I don’t know how you did things back in 1892 but nowadays we usually tap each other on the shoulder!’ You know?” A few drops of venom slipped out at the end of her sentence, and Tamsin attempted to cover it up with a mild giggle.

IF YES, DID SAID ENCOUNTER CHANGE YOUR VIEWS ON THE PARANORMAL?

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Tamsin paused, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve always had a deep connection to the paranormal ever since I can remember.” So far so good, now all she had to do was tie it up in a bow. “But there’s a big difference between feeling something and seeing something with your own two eyes. It feels like… Everything sort of falls into place, if that makes any sense.” It felt like fucking book, but that was just her opinion. Besides, people tended not to eat up spite as much as they did sugar, and with a bat of her eyes she just made her response downright saccharine.

Then her smile dropped, and she looked over the interviewer’s shoulder. “We done? Is it done? Good.”

EXTRAS:

I wanted to share one of the plot ideas I had for Tamsin. I’d really like for her to be exposed as a fraud on the show, either through someone else or through her getting too cocky in the field. During what would normally be her rock bottom moment, I think it would be a great opportunity for her to be possessed (by what particularly can be left up to what’s more engaging and relevant to the plot) since she’d be extremely vulnerable. It’d be interesting to see if, in the time before her possession, she’d become close enough with some of the Visitation crew that people would notice that she’s behaving strangely and/or if they’d just write off her behavior as Tamsin wanting attention after public humiliation. I’m also interested in the aftermath, as most viewers will have seen Tamsin exposed and most likely will not take her side when it comes to this. I’d love to see how she’d handle this situation, both before and after a level-4 intrusion.

I made a mock blog for Tamsin, which you can find at mockmarx.tumblr.com! I’ve also included a relationship page where I’ve written my interpretation of the way Tamsin views the rest of the Visitation crew at this point in time. This is all subject to change as her relationships develop, of course.

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME/ALIAS: Kayla

PRONOUNS: they/them

AGE: 20

TIMEZONE: EST for the rest of the school year

ANYTHING ELSE? None

IN CHARACTER:

WANTED SKELETON: Charlie Richardson

GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis male, he/him

BIOGRAPHY:

You remember little from your early childhood; the number of beds you slept in seeming unimportant. You were shuffled from foster home to foster home until you happened upon the Richardsons. They were the first family that made you feel like you were home, instead of another child cycling through the doors. You weren’t expecting to find your parents, you just wanted a place to rest your head. They gave you everything they could, and you knew that you were one of the lucky ones.

The spotlight was always on you, and from an early age they learned you thrived on attention. The Richardsons had plenty to give to their only child, and adored to watch your demonstrations of what had happened at school that day or what the characters in your book were up to. They learned that you had a penchant for performances and took you to local theaters. Slowly falling in love with the stage, you knew that’s exactly where you were meant to be.

At a private all-boys high school with a large budget for the performing arts, you thrived. Sometimes the lead and sometimes only comic relief, you managed to snag a role in every single show put on during your four years, even as a freshman new to the program. The theater program was cutthroat, but people seemed to love your cheerful outlook at every single rehearsal, even when things would go disastrously wrong. You could improvise lines at the drop of a hat, and you were often the one getting the biggest round of applause at the end of the night.

It wasn’t a surprise to your parents that you wanted to study theater in college. In fact, they eagerly supported your ambitious endeavors. The stage had always been where you thrived, and you promised you could settle for being a theater teacher for a few years if worse came to worse. However, they believed in you. They still came to every performance, even if your university was a four-hour drive from home.

When Leo approached you about joining the cast of Visitation, you were skeptical. Was there really a point in searching for something that doesn’t exist? But with his puppy dog eyes and a reminder that you could always use a bit of exposure, you agreed. There was no saying no to him, even if you didn’t truly believe that you could find anything. You enjoy the challenge, and having a popular webshow on your resume can’t hurt.

ANYTHING ELSE?

{ headcanons }

Though he’s not in charge of the Visitation Instagram account, he often promotes new episodes on his own account. He has a decent amount of followers, and the numbers have only risen as he continues to take part in the show.

Charlie is deaf in his left ear, due to repeated ear infections as a child. The hearing loss wasn’t discovered until he lived with the Richardsons for a few years; he just assumed that how he was hearing was normal and he now uses a hearing aid.

He is a cat person, though he had two dogs growing up. Charlie currently owns one grey tabby cat named Lily. He lives in an apartment off campus, and has had Lily since he was a sophomore at Reed College. He adopted her when she was a kitten, and she often sleeps curled up at the foot of his bed when he’s home.

Often falls asleep with a Disney movie on for background noise. The movies cycle out week to week, but his favorites include Mulan and Princess and the Frog.

Has a secret dream of working as a character performer at Disneyland, but knows that it’s somewhat unrealistic and hasn’t even told his parents.

QUESTIONNAIRE:

DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE PARANORMAL?

The question receives a laugh from Charlie, his eyes shifting downwards. Every time he says no, he can feel Leo’s disapproving look. This doesn’t stop him from giving his true answer. “No, I don’t. If you do, that’s totally great. I just haven’t seen any proof otherwise, you know?” Maybe that’s the point of the show: to get people to believe. That doesn’t mean the mediocre soundbites and the captured shadows had changed his mind.

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A PARANORMAL ENCOUNTER?

Another smile, a gentle shake of his head. “No. You’d think after all the ghost chasing we do, I would have seen something. But here we are,” he responds. There’s no malice in his voice, just a simple statement. If there was something to believe in, something to be seen, he figures he would have seen it already. That doesn’t change his performance on camera, but he’s rarely tapped for long review sessions.

IF NO, WHY NOT?

“Well, I assume it’s because ghosts aren’t real,” he says, the words a little more forceful here. The questions seemed to be going in circles, and his answers aren’t going to change. He hasn’t seen any solid proof to believe, and if that day ever comes they can revisit his beliefs. For now, he’s content to turn on the charm for every investigation, and return to the real world with no spirits as soon as the cameras turn off.

EXTRAS: