[endknown]

# ENDKNOWN. a low activity indie multi - muse rp blog for muses from the paramount+ tv show SCHOOL SPIRITS. show & headcanon based. as written by lizzie ( 20s; she / they; est. )

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[endknown]

hi all! just wanted to give a notice to everybody that my activity will probably be really, really sparse over the next two months! i'm moving at the end of july so i've got a lot to get packed up between now and then and i want to spend time with my friends before i move states <3 i apologize and if u want to unfollow i totally get it! i'll be popping in occasionally and queueing stuff but i wanted to give ppl a heads up that my activity won't be reliable here anytime soon. i'll probably spend the most time over on thg multi if you want to follow me there but if not, no worries <3 i'll be back for my school spirits muses eventually

[sorevivals]

addy's somewhat baffled by how casual dawn is about it all. on one hand, she doesn't know what else she expected, it's dawn after all, but on the other...the space, the red room as dawn called it, was so horrible that the idea of being so relaxed when talking about it feels backwards. "you've been there?" with how mr. martin had insisted she not tell anyone, she assumed no one else knew. then something else occurs to her, "it's different for everyone, right?"

it was pretty on the nose for addy, after all—the sensation of being killed all over again. the pain, the confusion, the ringing in her head. reminders of the potential she lost with every blow. it'd be horrible for anyone, but she can't imagine why it would only be directed at her.

"it was horrible. dying all over again." her brow furrows, "how are you so calm about it?"

[endknown]

“i just have to remind myself that what i'm seeing is a manifestation of my consciousness's own insecurities,” dawn says. “and i've been in there a lot, so they kind of ran out of things to say that would make me cry. or have a panic attack.” she'd learned what panic attacks were a few years ago, sitting in on one of the ap psychology classes. it was kind of nice to have a word for when she got really scared and couldn't breathe and everything felt like it was spinning.

the red room was the av room, but instead she was trapped in the booth, and it felt like it was getting smaller and smaller around her, as all of her friends laughed and pointed at her from the outside, like she was some kind of zoo animal or test subject. she didn't exactly like going in there, but it had happened enough that she had learned to drown it out — close her eyes, cover her ears, remind herself this wasn't real. that that wasn't how it happened.

if it got bad enough, sometimes she'd sing songs from archie over and over to drown it out.

“i think it's different for everybody, but i've never seen anyone else's. i tried to tell the others about it once and they just told me to stop doing drugs again.”

[sorevivals]

chess smiles a little as casey sits down. she tries to stay friendly with all the ghosts, remembering both the isolation of casual bullying in life as well as the fear she first experienced coming here, and how the others were able to help her. a friendly face meant a lot in the afterlife, at least in her opinion.

chess takes in casey's advice, scanning diagonally for pairs of letters that match anything on the word list. "oh, there: nightingale," she points out, circling the word with her pencil. chewing on her lip, she moves her seat around so casey can get a better look at the book.

"it's also tricky because some of the words are backwards, too."

[endknown]

“oh, you know all the tricks already, guess you don't need me here, then,” casey says, and then clarifies. “that was a joke. i was joking. unless you want me to go?” the offer wavers in her voice, almost a question but not quite one.

she stares at the book for a long moment before she spots one. she points out another word — thrush — that's placed diagonally.

“my granddad used to love these,” she says, quietly. she's almost unaware for a moment she's said it aloud until she hears the sound of her own voice.

[sorevivals]

@endknown: “Hey, are you okay with me being here?” casey and cathy?

sch.ool spirits part 4 / accepting

Cathy never thought she'd be the sort of person who meditates. She'd always been on the move, the idea of just staying still felt wrong. Now in her death, she's found a new appreciation for it. A moment to ground herself, to not get too caught up in the past or the land of the living. Still, caught in this moment while sat on the bleachers in the gym, she startles a little, turning to look at Casey.

"Yeah, of course," she states, gesturing at the empty bleachers for Casey to take a seat. Her brow is furrowed a bit in concern. "Is everything alright?"

[endknown]

“yeah,” casey says, quickly — a little too quickly. “i mean, i just didn't want to be in the way or anything. that's all.”

she sits down next to ms. lam, sitting criss-cross applesauce, watching the puddle build up on the bleacher underneath her as water drips from her hair.

“but, i mean, if there was something wrong, could i talk to you about it?” casey hedges. it's just something that's been bugging her, sitting in the back of her mind uncomfortably, like a book out of place in an otherwise neatly organized bookshelf.

why had janet and mr. martin been fighting, anyway? it didn't seem like the kind of thing casey ought to have overheard, but... wasn't it a little weird they'd been arguing in private? what did they even have to argue about?

[sorevivals]

@endknown: “You gonna be okay?” casey and addy

sch.ool spirits part 2 starters / accepting

"I'm fine." Despite her words, she doesn't stop staring police cars pulling away. Apparently, word spread quickly in the ghost world—that while searching for that missing girl in the woods, they found something else. Something they had been looking for back in 1996: a hammer hidden away, rusted but with suspect stains on the handle. Her murder weapon, if the theory the police were murmuring is to be believed.

When the police are gone, she turns to face Casey, crossing her arms and shrugging. Trying to seem unbothered. "I mean, even if it is it, they won't be able to pull anything useful after nearly thirty years outside. And besides, if it's it, then how come they didn't find it when I die? For all way know some other poor bastard got beat with a hammer and their killer ditched it there."

[endknown]

“yeah, i guess that's true,” casey says. she feels like she would've remembered if there had been another girl beaten to death with a hammer — her mother was a prosecutor for the state, and those big, sensational cases were exactly the type she worked on — but she lets addy believe it. there's no harm in her believing that maybe, just maybe, it isn't something to do with her.

“do you wanna do something? keep your mind off it?” she offers. in her shoes, casey wouldn't want to think about it at all. “i think there's some board games in the library, if you like scrabble.”

[splitrivers]

"i don't want an apology," gemma replies numbly. she's not sure what she wants anymore. she has the truth. she has the knowledge, the extent of casey's . . . cowardice ? is it cowardice if it's what the average person would do ?

does it have to be cowardice for it to hurt her ?

she was dead anyway, body scorched from the inside out, heated to an unsustainable point that she couldn't be pulled back from. still, she stands across from casey, expecting more words to come. or even tears. she just stares at someone still too afraid to look at her now.

"you didn't have to leave me." gemma reasons. she wills anything to come to the surface. anger catches and spreads like a hungry flame. "it was just me and the fucking athletic trainer ! they wouldn't let anyone else come near me ! they just sat there and watched me die ! why didn't anyone else do anything ?" she was gone the next year. couldn't handle the thought of coming back to that track. gemma didn't know if she could blame her, either.

[endknown]

“i didn't know what else to do,” casey murmurs. she can't look at gemma; the coil of shame in her belly is so strong that it makes her feel nauseous.

“i mean. matt was there when i died, and he...” she pauses, gnawing at her lip. “he knew what to say, and i... i didn't want to screw it all up for you.” casey had never been one of those girls with a comforting, nurturing energy. in fact, she'd been told several times she had the opposite.

“i just...” she keeps trying to find something else to say, something that will make gemma understand. something that will make gemma not be angry at her anymore.

she can't come up with anything. the air between them is tense and taut and casey can't help but want to turn and leave again, to retreat to somewhere where she can curl in on herself and try to remember how to breathe.

she doesn't leave, not this time. hadn't that been the thing that had gotten her into this whole mess?

[sorevivals]

@endknown liked for a lyric-based starter song: the kids aren't alright, fa.ll out b.oy

Okay, Victoria will admit that maybe she's gotten a bit fixated on the deaths at Split River—something that started before her incident, and only amplified after she could see them. The next step would be talking to them, sure, but Victoria's too nervous to actually do that, so instead she fixates on digging into their lives under the guise that when she does talk to them, she'll be prepared. It's only stalking if the person's alive, right? Admittedly, it's part of why Victoria wanted this conversation to happen off campus to avoid any ghostly eavesdroppers. She's not trying to draw attention to her newfound skill, or how much detail she's dug into them.

So they're in her bedroom, a binder's worth of old pictures, news articles, and documents on the bed. "Oh, this one's straightforward enough: he's the one they named the football field after. Wally Clark. He broke his neck on the field. He's...also why my mom told my brother he couldn't play football." It's a grim half-joke, and maybe Victoria realizes it, because then she becomes a bit more serious. "Look, I get this is all kinda weird and heavy. It twists my head just a bit to think all those people in those all photographs I've seen are dead. Especially when you go to school and...there they are. We don't have to get into this all if you don't want to."

[endknown]

“wow, this is, uh. some intense research,” ava says, staring down at the obituaries and documents and photographs and news articles spread out on the bed.

she shifts through them, looking at all the photographs long enough to recognize the faces in all of them. there's the girl in the hat who always has a lollipop. there's the girl in the roller skates. there's the boy from the pottery studio. there's the girl from the theater who's always muttering into a walkie-talkie like there's someone on the other end. there's the girl who's somehow always leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her.

“that's... wow,” she repeats again, unsure of what else to say. a chill comes over her as she realizes exactly how close she was to becoming one of these faded photographs spread out over victoria's bed.

“no. no, it's okay. i just... you don't think about how many people died in your school until you're seeing them everywhere, i guess.”

[sorevivals]

@endknown: “You hate scary movies, just own it.” ava and Victoria

sch.ool spirits part 2 starters / accepting

Victoria laughs a little, "Okay, alright. I don't like horror, sue me." Honestly, she doesn't watch that many movies in general, with the exception of putting on something as background noise to paint to, usually a documentary or movie from her childhood. Definitely not horror. "Real life is already freaky enough, especially now. When I watch a movie I'm trying to get away from that."

[endknown]

ava smiles, nudges victoria's shoulder with her own. “come on,” she says, playfully. “all i said was that i thought that the sixth sense might help us, um. you know. figure it all out.” she's teasing, that much is clear from her tone.

there's something underneath her tone that feels almost more genuine, though — a yearning for some kind of rulebook or guide map or road to follow. ava's spent her whole life in sports, things with rules and referees and timers, and suddenly finding herself able to see ghosts is... about the furthest thing one could get from that.

she holds her hands up in mock surrender. “but i digress. i know how much you value your beauty sleep.” she sticks her tongue out at victoria.

[lovedunexpectedly]

and now harry felt like a dick. the hockey team might not have had the same popularity as the football team and as the odd girl out, she worked twice as hard to prove herself, but she always had the team and her siblings. the grass wasn't greener on this side for her, but she forgot that was not the case for everyone.

"i didn't," she didn't know how to handle this, over ten years and she was still as seventeen as the day she died, "i wasn't trying to judge, i just want to understand."

[endknown]

casey shrugs. “i mean, it's okay,” she says, and she means it. she's been dead for a few years now, and she's not sad about it. at least, not any more sad about it than she was when she died. at least now she has people who have to hang out with her — that's one of the perks of support group. mr. martin gets upset if they exclude anybody, and anyone is welcome to join their movie nights and game nights and holiday parties, even if they don't come to group. but casey always goes to group — if she pretends, it's a little bit like having friends.

“besides, it's not like you get much choice around here. unless you want to go talk to yuri, and i don't think he speaks any english.” that's what the others had said, anyway — casey had no desire to try to talk to him herself. she was content with the limited interactions she had with her peers from group.

[sorevivals]

"it isn't a science at all." it's not said out of any disrespect, though it could come off that way with addy's typical sort of tone. she clears her throat, "but there's a lot of things that aren't sciences." and addy struggles with the lot of them. "it's a very interesting way to look at things. i think some of what it says also comes from how you approach it. what our brains go to when we do readings like this. like a rorschach test. or it would be if rorschach tests worked."

again, none of it's said dismissively. addy does think that the interpretation is more telling about a person than anything else. like the flash of bitterness and anger addy had experienced at the mention of a wound. it's all cold reading, sure, but it shines a light on what someone might be thinking about, even if they're trying to bury it.

"nearly every culture has tried to make meaning of the stars. telling stories, making pictures, analysing people based on them. there are about as many star stories as there are ghost stories. and plenty that have both. the two universal truths, i guess: death and the sky." she props her chin onto her hand, running a finger along the chart, "makes you wonder if someone knew something we don't."

[endknown]

“i mean, i guess not. but like, what even is a science, you know?” dawn asks, twirling a lock of her hair around a finger absentmindedly. “i mean, i've sat in on science classes now. they're talking about all kinds of crazy stuff, like cloning sheep. and inheriting cancers.” her eyes go wide with the wonder of it all. when she was little, she hadn't even been able to imagine people walking on the moon, and now they were cloning sheep and sending robots to mars? it sounded like one of her brother's sci-fi novels he was always reading. sometimes dawn wondered about charlie. he'd be old now, if he was still alive. dawn shook her head. no, this was about addy. focus.

she shrugs at addy's suggestion of someone knowing something they don't. “i mean, the universe is massive, right?” she asks. “who knows what could be going on behind the scenes?” they were all tiny specks of dust in the eyes of the universe. maybe there was something bigger than they were out there.

[yearnstarved]

OPE. THAT'S AWKWARD. "I'm from here. Shit River's own. Figured I'd cut to the chase instead of beating around the bush," Simon says. He figures she more than got him back for being so curt by bringing up Maddie like that. The small muscle under his right eye twitches even if he makes no passing remark about it. Her self-correction fills the gap well enough.

"Yes, my name's Simon. I think you have a certain sensitivity to the spiritual world. Seeing ghosts as you've put it." He's overexplaining, overcorrecting, and simultaneously running out of time. A soul isn't meant to exist outside of the body for very long.

"I think the fact that you're talking to me now proves it," he swallows after laying out the hard truth. "Because I'm not in the living world anymore."

[endknown]

well, shit. there goes any hope of convincing him she has absolutely never seen anything weird, no sirree.

it hits her a second later what he's said. not in the living world anymore. “you died?” she asks, something almost like shock in her voice. and sure, she knows that teenagers can die (she's been seeing dead teenagers for weeks!) but everyone who's died has felt different. their clothes outdated, clearly from a different era. ava had thought, somehow, that she and her friends were immune to death.

“what happened to you? is that okay to ask?” she swallows hard.

[sorevivals]

@endknown liked for a starter

"do you ever want to learn? how to swim?" maybe it's a loaded question, but that doesn't immediately register to amelia. maybe it's a lack of understanding, but to her, a fear of water can only be resolved by learning to swim, knowing how to handle a situation where one ends up in the water unexpectedly. besides, they're already dead, casey can't drown twice, right? now would be a good time to learn, if ever.

"sorry if that's, like, a weird question or something. i mean, no pressure either way, but i just thought i could probably teach you, if you wanted."

[endknown]

“um,” casey says. the question takes her off guard. she'd never learned to swim as a child — her parents hadn't wanted to spend their valuable time off shuttling her back and forth from the local ymca. it had become a source of embarrassment in sixth grade, when one of the most popular girls in her year had had a pool party for her birthday, and casey had spent the entire party barely dipping her toes in the water. it had never gotten better, after that — dreams about floundering in the water while her classmates laughed had haunted her, and then, well. it had killed her. she'd been right to fear the water, in the end.

“i don't know,” she says, finally, after a long, uncomfortable moment of silence. “i mean, i know i can't die again, but...” she pauses, and then the next thing that comes out of her mouth comes out before she can think about it. “but people can still laugh at me.”

not that she thinks amelia would — she doesn't seem like the type — but there's that fear, burrowed deep into her chest.

[splitrivers]

it was becoming a more comfortable instinct, to ignore the living as they mull about, a background hum to the bigger concerns at hand. occasionally, one will look in maddie's direction, and it never fails to turn her stomach, but just as quickly, their attention is captured elsewhere. just like in life, they see right through her. until they don't. ava addresses her, and it takes a long moment and a wayward glance over her shoulder to confirm that no, she's not mistaken. she's talking to maddie. deer in the headlights, maddie stares. she doesn't know this girl. can't make heads or tails of intention, of what she's doing to be able to see her. maddie's head whirls. even in death, adrenaline is a loud, remembered instinct. like muscle memory, maddie tenses, bracing for impact. if she runs . . . actually, she settles on the decision before the thought is completed. as good a solution as any. she takes one last, long look at ava, and then bolts in the opposite direction.

[endknown]

the words have no sooner left ava's mouth when maddie turns on her heel and starts sprinting in the opposite direction. which, okay, ava doesn't know maddie that well, but that wasn't exactly the reaction she was expecting. she was trying to be nice, and it wasn't like it was a lie — everyone had been worried about her.

ava takes less than a second to consider what she should do next, and then she takes off after maddie. “hey! wait!” she calls. “where are you going? don't you have to go to class?”

as they run, ava considers what, exactly has caused maddie to turn and run. maybe the police hadn't actually found her? but then why would she be hanging around the library? surely if she'd run away, there would be better places to hide, right?

[sorevivals]

@endknown: “It was predictably horrible.” Ollie and Stevie?

sch.ool spirits part 4 / accepting

Ollie scoffs a little, glancing over at Stevie. "Yeah, I'm shocked," she says, tone sarcastic. Putting the drum sticks away, she moves to stand up and get away from the drum set. "I mean, who would have thought sitting in a circle talking about whatever-the-fuck with the world's biggest creep watching you might actually turn out to suck, right?" Ollie can't pinpoint exactly what she finds so off-putting about Mr. Martin, only that his general energy reminded her of her father, and that was never a good thing.

"I mean, really, I don't know how you can sit there and listen to him talk."

[endknown]

stevie rolls her eyes. “i know, right?” she agrees. something in her is sad when the drumming stops — she'd been listening to ollie in the hallway for a few minutes before initiating conversation, like a total creep. but she liked listening to ollie — if she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was still alive, at band practice with mel and jules. pretend that she hadn't died because of some stupid fluke of nature.

“it took everything in me to not start throwing up the second he started talking,” she says, and then adds, “i only really went because fern wanted me to go.” fern, the friend stevie never would've made in life, even if fern had been alive at the same time. but she'd found stevie, after. and she'd been kind, and there was a lot to be said for that.

“she's into that kind of stuff. that hippy-dippy therapy bullshit.” it made sense. fern had died in the seventies, back when hope was still something the populace at large had. they hadn't lived through ronald regan, or george w. bush, and all the bullshit they'd put the american public through. it made for a nice contrast, between the two of them — if fern was all seventies hope and light, stevie was pure nineties nihilism..

[sorevivals]

she doesn't immediately recognize the person in front of her. there's a passing familiarity, a face she's seen in the halls before, maybe? only if you count an in memory of picture, or one of the obituaries victoria had gone through in the past month. the wet hair doesn't help clarify who it is, only adding another layer of obscurity to her vague recognition.

there's a small, somewhat nervous chuckle at the question. it's not the sort of thing one expects to hear, and she has no clue where this is going. she has caught some strange sights lately, though—people dressed a little odd, and she swore she saw maddie in the hallways one time. discrepancies written off as someone trying out some new fashion or just victoria imagining things.

"yeah...?" she starts, uncertain, "should i not be seeing you?"

[endknown]

casey gnaws nervously at her lip. “i mean, people usually don't?” she offers, anxiety making it into a question.

“and you're like, alive and everything?” she asks, the words spilling out of her mouth before she can stop herself. stupid. she could've been more gentle about it. eased her into the idea. if she is dead, she's probably not figured it out yet — after all, casey hasn't seen her in group, which means mr. martin doesn't know about her.

“i'm sorry,” she mumbles, looking down at the floor. “i shouldn't've said it like that.”

[sorevivals]

admittedly, she's so baffled by the idea that she's pulled from her sour mood, "you must be desperate if you're trying me." she doesn't look like the sort of person who'd smoke—at least, addy thought so. addy had been pretty straight-laced, at least where that sort of thing was concerned. there hadn't been much appeal for addy. she knew it wasn't good for the body, and either way, it smelled bad and seemed kind of gross to her. so stevie was out of luck in that regard.

the next question catches her attention. "yes, absolutely," it's said without a second thought. in fact, she knows he is, considering their first interaction was him pulling her out of that other place, telling her not to tell anyone what she saw. still, she doesn't talk about that—not because of what he said, but because she doesn't want to, and even if she did, she doesn't have the words to describe it without seeming crazy. instead, she offers a more relatable response. "all of the talk about letting go like it's easy."

[endknown]

“i haven't had a cigarette in like a decade,” stevie bemoans, rolling her head back in frustration. sure, the physical components of addiction — the headache and the cravings — were toned down now that she was dead, but that didn't mean she didn't still want a cigarette, didn't mean she didn't still want the feeling of smoke in her lungs and holding the cigarette between her fingers.

“letting go is bullshit,” stevie agrees, with a slight smile. “i died, and all i get is high school forever? i'm never going to stop being pissed off about that.”

“i believe i was promised pearly gates, or some bullshit like that,” she jokes. her parents hadn't been big church-goers, only dropping by on christmas and easter, and stevie had never found anything comforting in religion. what was the point of listening to some mystical dude in the sky for some nebulous reward after you'd died? as far as she was concerned, she was going to do whatever she wanted, and if god didn't like it, that was his problem.