SMOKE & MIRRORS.

WENDY LI — THE RESEARCHER Sometimes you even fool yourself a bit.

[ofwendys]

xsawycrs‌:

Sawyer knew that he and Wendy were the same in that they hated the night. Night was when the nightmares came, the memories of the shrill sound of rubber against pavement, the screech of metal twisting, the crush of glass breaking. Sawyer had tried his best to repress memories of that day, but it wasn’t like it was all that far in the past—and his mother, as much as Sawyer loved her, never wanted to talk about it with Sawyer. There were pictures of his brother all over the house, but they never said his name. All Sawyer would have liked was to just take some time to remember him, but they had just kept moving until they left that memory far in the past. 

He caught the grin on her features, and he couldn’t help the smile that raised his own lips, crossing his ankles and drawing his knees towards his chest as he rested his elbows atop them. Sawyer would do anything for this group of friends, ragtag bunch or not, and he wanted to make sure that Wendy was finding what she needed with them. Even if that was just a little bit of peace and quiet every once in a while. Sawyer looked up towards the moon, the smile on his face retreating to something more gentle as he just basked in the glow of the evening. Sawyer needed some peace and quiet, too, sometimes needed time away from the craziness of the group and the mischief they got into. He was a shy kid at heart, and this was a completely new experience for him. He never had friends who had stuck around before. 

“I don’t know.” Sawyer kept looking at the field in front of them, finding solace in the gentle way the stalks of wheat swayed in the breeze. He didn’t necessarily believe in the supernatural, but he wasn’t precluding the possibility that they could exist. He pursed his lips lightly in thought. “I guess I want to see all the weird and wacky things out here, you know. I always had a thing for bizarre shit.” He looked back at her, a soft smile on his features. “Not just the beautiful things. The world is big and wide and there’s so much to see and I want to see all of it.” He looked back towards the field. “And who knows what’s out there, you know? Even if there aren’t ghosts. There’s so much.”  

She could not look away from Sawyer as he spoke, finding herself breathing in his every word. Strands of her black hair danced along with the wind, tickling her face, at the same tempo of the wheat before them, but her attention would not falter; it all belonged to the boy that dreamed of bigger, better things. Once she’d thought him an oddball, just some guy chasing the impossible. But in that moment, looking at his soft smile dressed in moonlight, Wendy saw Sawyer as if for the first time: a young man whose warmth rivaled the summer sun on your bare skin, whose kindness left you speechless. He was still chasing the impossible, she believed, only this time he joined the likes of Wendy and Mary— just kids looking for a place in the world. “There’s so much beauty,” she agreed, finally tearing her gaze away from the boy beside her and aiming it toward the black abyss above them. That’s where she believed the beauty was, in the incredible and unknowable expanse. And, sometimes, she saw it in Mary’s smile during a night drive, her face pale under a traffic light. And she felt it then, when she saw Sawyer’s gentle face smiling down at her. At a different time she would’ve added her usual thoughts on ghosts, but that night she couldn’t bring herself to antagonize him. Instead, she let her elbows gently buckle against the weight of her upper body and lowered herself to the ground so as to admire the sky more comfortably, even if she risked the chill brought by the cold grass.

As she marveled at the lights that adorned the sky, she felt at peace— although only for a moment. The lightness that traveled through her body did not feel earned, well deserved. Something was wrong. And she felt it, the same intruder that corrupted her every day: how could she feel happy when her father was missing, most likely gone forever? ‘Happiness is unjust’, the unwelcome guest whispered. The sudden urge to cry tugged at her throat, taunting her. Quickly, in attempt to save face, she shut eyes tight hoping that could stop the flood of tears from coming. “Would you say you’re happy, Sawyer?” Wendy asked abruptly into the dark, her voice barely audible. “I mean, is it worth going through so much garbage just to get a glimpse of something beautiful once in a while?”

[ofwendys]

marcofind‌:

Marco had never been able to sleep without nightmares. Shadows had lurked behind corners, imaginary monsters threatening him from the darkest parts of his mind. The dark had brought danger, and even when Marco had grown old enough and big enough to fight that danger off, he’d still struggled to escape it in his own mind. All those sleepless nights had left him with a habit of catching up in the day, and that was how he found himself dozing in the back of the van, legs crossed, mouth open, a slight dribble of drool on his chin. The sound of the doors were enough to startle him awake, blinking and hastily rubbing his mouth as light flooded in and Wendy was silhouetted before him.

“Muscle Boy?” he asked, a lazy grin on his face as he stretched out, rolling his shoulders and flexing his toes. “I should get that on a t-shirt. The M is alliterate with Marco, too. That’s smart branding.” Wendy was lucky to have caught him in such a good mood, warm and sleepy and more content with life than he had been for a long time. “You think I got these muscles so I could carry books?” he teased, sitting up suddenly to face Mary properly, shifting so his legs were dangling out the back of the van. “But sure. I did get these muscles to carry heavy stuff for pretty girls. The milkshake’s a nice bribe, too.”

Inch by inch, the muscles on Wendy’s body went stiff with every word coming out of Marco’s mouth. She very much would have rather encountered the grumpy, grumbling boy she was more used to, the one she knew how to deal with better. It was his teasing she could not process properly, nor react in any other way that did not involve her clenching her jaw so tight she’d be afraid to pull a muscle. “What a brilliant and novel idea. A T-shirt,” she retorted without looking at him, or in his direction. Not once she’d been on the receiving end of that kind of charm, not from the people she knew. In the wild, with strangers, she would’ve had no trouble spitting an enchanting ‘fuck off, white man’ before speeding away. What was she supposed to do with Marco? “You carry heavy stuff for pretty girls, huh?” Wendy repeated boldly with sudden interest. Her chin perked up, even allowing the slightest hint of a genuine smile, the black-haired girl crossed her arms and stood firm on the ground for the first time since she met him. The gears in her brain were working at full speed now. “Is that a promise, Marco?” she teased back confidently as she imagined all the useless trinkets and encyclopedias she’d have him haul. “Because I was dead serious about that milkshake.”

[juliawvicker]

Erin! Orla! Oh, for Christ’s sake! I said you could invite one friend to the reception. One!

[ofwendys]

@kwamewiththedocs​ Wendy emptied her book bag on the floor of the van with a sudden thud. The beginning of her one and only ritual. She proceeded, with eyes closed, to hover her right hand over the texts in the same ceremonious manner her grandmother sensed the energy emanating from a deck of tarot cards before a reading. A breath later, the same hand fished for a title in her pile of books. “Slaughterhouse-Five.” Wendy spoke finally as she eyed the cover of her hand-picked treasure, although disappointment weighed heavily on her every syllable. She turned her head toward her companion in the van. “Have you read this one, Kwame?” The girl called out to him as she turned the cover in his direction. “I didn’t care enough to finish it...” She spouted before waiting for his answer, her mouth twisting into a sour grimace.  Tradition dictated she gave away the titles she found and read on the road, but this particular work made her want to bury it where no could find it.

[ofwendys]

@marcofind​ Wendy would often surprise herself when she was bored. Idle hands made for impulsive deeds, like packing your entire life in a bag and hopping on van full of strangers as they hunted impossible monsters. That day, however, her cure for boredom required less drastic measures. The old man that managed the newspaper stand she frequented spoke wonders of the book titles one could find at the local flea market. Usually, the black-haired girl would’ve had a harder time trusting the tales of the only bard in a dinky town like Canton, but she was anxious to do something— anything. She roamed around the motel looking for Mary or Mallory, hoping either could join her on a treasure hunt, but quickly came up empty. As her last resort, Wendy opened the back of the van looking for one of the boys and was surprisingly pleased to see Marco inside. “Hey, Muscle Boy.” She instantly regretted her greeting, making her face scrunch up in frustration. Snark could not be traded for favours. “Sorry.” She attempted a smile, her lips only arranging themselves into a crooked line. “I mean it. But I thought I could use your strength to carry some books from the flea market. I can treat you to a milkshake afterwards, as a thank you.”

[ofwendys]

xsawycrs‌:

@ofwendys​ reacted for a starter!!

Sawyer had found a spot right near the edge of town that was perfect for stargazing—and for Wendy and himself, arguably the most neurotic and anxious of their little group, Sawyer figured that it would be nice to take a moment away from everything. It was even on the opposite end of town from the asylum—which, granted, wasn’t that far, but Sawyer hoped it was far enough. After he got off the phone with his mother, he knocked quietly at the door to the motel room, where half the group had their turn in the beds, calling Wendy’s name quietly through the door. 

It only took a twenty minute walk to make it up there, and when they got to the top of the hill, Sawyer couldn’t help but grin at the sprawling view of the fields of wheat below, mid-harvest, lit by the brightness of a nearly-full moon. “See? I told you it was worth it,” he said, stripping off the light jacket he had been wearing and spreading it across the grass before sitting on one side of it. This was part of the reason why he had been so eager to leave Coolsville—the world was wide and wonderful and he wanted to see all of it. 

It was not darkness itself that Wendy feared at night, but the fact she was left alone with her thoughts is what terrified her most, forcing her to stay awake. Even as she hopelessly searched for figures hiding in the shadows of the room, painted by the dim light that seeped through the motel’s curtains, sleep would continue to elude her. She had hesitantly agreed to Sawyer’s offer to break away from the motel, not quite trusting the trip could change anything for her. And yet, when she heard the boy whisper her name at the door, Wendy jumped from her bed and followed him close saying nothing, like a shadow in the dark.

The soft sound of the wind caressing the fields of gold called out to her when the pair first arrived. She did not how much she’d yearned for the tranquility that was before her, not until that moment. Instinctively, her right hand reached over her face and hid the smile that suddenly appeared on her lips. Happiness was dangerous. “You were right, I suppose.” Wendy allowed, finding her spot on Sawyer’s jacket as if entering a sacred space. She did not dare speak of his sweet gesture, perhaps out of fear of ruining the moment, but she knew she could at least reciprocate his kindness by appreciating it in full.

She rested her elbows on the ground, her curious gaze marveling at the incredible vastness of the dark. “I have to ask you something,” Wendy started, her eyes now searching for Sawyer’s. “There is so much beauty and real mystery in the world we already know. And you’re worried about something so impossible, like spirits haunting some forgotten ruins. Why?” Wendy was careful, making sure her voice was soft instead of her usual aggressive tone when she demanded answers. No, the last thing she wanted was to hurt the one person that cared enough about her to bring her there.

[ofwendys]

case file 01: the game is afoot

[ofwendys]

samosets‌:

The side of Sam’s smile quirked in a half-smile as the duo made their way to City Hall. The small town trope always fascinated him, as the only real town Sam had spent time in was Coolsville. He’d been to Helena, back in the day, but that was a bustling metroplex compared to some of the places they’d been on this ghost-catching road trip. Sam always found himself wondering about the people who lived here: what did they do? What were they like?

“Ah, that makes more sense,” Sam conceded, propping open the front door for Wendy to pass through. “That makes much more sense than tracking down employment records, anyway.” He followed her inside, standing up slightly straighter as his eyes darted around the room. It seemed like everything was made of marble, which felt like a lot of pomp and circumstance for a less-than-impressive town.

“Definitely– I bet there’ll be a pretty good explanation for all of this,” he paused. “You think we could find a map of the property?”

Giddy, Wendy hurried past her research partner as she entered the most grandiose building in town— which was not saying much. A smirk drew upon her lips, without permission, as her most trusted companion acknowledged her decision was indeed the correct one. If her relationship with Sam were any different, she wouldn’t have hesitated to indulge in a feast of Of course I am right. “Sure hope so,” the girl thought out loud as she rubbed her hands together in pure excitement, inspecting her surroundings like an avid explorer. “Unless your thing is wandering aimlessly around a decrepit building.” Wendy teased, attempting —poorly— to keep her face void of expression. A giggle was all it took to bring her stone-cold facade down. It was near impossible to not enjoy this task, with Sam out of all people. Surrounded by knowledge and quiet— she was in her element. “Looks like this place doubles as a library.” She mentioned as she nodded in the direction of a row of shelves stacked with books. It wasn’t surprising considering how small the town was. “Let’s take a look at the library card catalogue, that will be our map to guide us around this place.”

[ofwendys]

marygilinskys‌:

Mary never had any girlfriends growing up– really besides her sister and her mother, Mary thought girls didn’t like her very much. She was definitely loud and could be obnoxious sometimes, but Mary had the biggest heart in the world. One of the best things to come out of the trip was definitely getting so close to Wendy. She loved Sawyer and Sam to no end, but having a girl best friend was different. Mary had someone she could tell all her deep dark secrets to and to relate with about girly things.

She smiled fondly as Wendy spoke, nodding quietly as she recalled all the uncertainty in the world around them. She adjusted slightly so both of them were more comfortable. “This is a really nice escape– I’d be bored out of my mind stuck at home watching my baby sister…”

At first, all Wendy could muster was a solemn “hmmm” in response to her friend’s words. Escape was the correct term for what they were doing. Joking around, goofing off, wasting time. Putting off the cruelties belonging to the real world until— until when? The question would inevitably find itself creeping into Wendy’s head like an unwanted guest. If thoughts of her father didn’t distract or bring her down, then the fate of the group would. Suddenly she felt robbed. Robbed because her mind wouldn’t— couldn’t let go, couldn’t allow her to relish a kind of closeness she’d never shared with another person before, not this completely like she did now with Mary, And she worried, of course she worried, about the life that waited for her dear Mary in Coolsville. A life, Wendy believed, that she did not plan for, that she did not deserve. The mere thought drove Wendy to link her arm around Mary’s, almost fearing her friend could disappear into the stale air of the room at any second. “Maybe I could give you a hand one day. After this is all over,” she offered, her voice intentionally unassuming— the inexplicable need to constantly prepare for the worst rearing her ugly head. “I could watch your sister while you drive out to the big city or get pizza around town. A date, even. Whatever you need.” Perhaps some good could come from having nothing and no one waiting for her back home. A girl could dream, if only on small doses.

[ofwendys]

[ofwendys]

xsawycrs‌:

Sawyer was an intuitive person. He was finely tuned to his friends’ behaviors, and he knew that if he was going to lead this group in any meaningful way on their ghost-catching adventures, he was going to have to be vigilant for when one of them was struggling or needed a little extra help. Sawyer got it—he needed a little extra help every now and then too. When he caught a whiff of cologne that reminded him of his dad, or when he heard his brother’s laugh in the sound of a passing taxi horn, it was enough to send him back to being 13 and terrified, 14 and bruised, 15 and achingly lonely. Even though it had been years, he still felt that crushing pain every now and then. 

He couldn’t help but laugh at how startled she was, putting his hands up as if he was surrendering. “It’s just me, Wen,” he said, putting out the joint in the ash tray next to him. He paused for a moment, tilting his head at her for a moment before his brow furrowed just slightly, a deep crevice growing right in the center of the space between his eyebrows. “Are you okay?” he asked, putting the guitar down next to him. He may have been slightly stoned and only 150 pounds soaking wet, but he was already gearing up to get into a fight for Wendy if that was what it took. 

Every breath seemed further and further away as the invisible weight crushed her chest. She had successfully managed to keep her eyes off Sawyer until the sound of his laughter drew her back to him. Poor kid was lucky she was indisposed, otherwise she would’ve shot a pair of daggers with just one look in his direction. No, instead all Wendy could do was wrinkle her nose at him in disapproval. “Sawyer Hathaway, I swear—” her voice cracked and faltered, devolving into silence. Panic had now reached her throat, coiling itself around it like a spectral snake ready to strike. Suddenly, the urge to jump out of the van burned her skin, but her legs did not budge; she was paralyzed in place.

Feeling helpless, Wendy shut her eyes and buried her face behind her hands. However small the inside of the van was, her panic made Sawyer’s voice sound terribly distant. It made her want to cry. Somehow, the dread that plagued her mind and body would always make her feel this way: completely and utterly alone. She wished she could stop it from ever happening, but it always found a way to creep back in. “I-I-I don’t know.” she replied hoarsely, her face still hiding behind the safety of her hands. “Sometimes I can’t breathe, and everything is too much, and I need some space.” There was no point in lying to Sawyer, not when he had already caught her halfway through a meltdown. If anything, she felt terrible for spoiling his evening. “Sorry.” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

[ofwendys]

marygilinskys

Mary smirked at Wendy’s teasing before shifting so she sat beside her. “Don’t say that too loud– Sawyer might make you one of our cases.” She continued to flip through her blurry Polaroids, lips pursing as none of them had come out exactly as she wished they had. Mary really wanted to remember this trip and all her new friends even after they parted ways when the summer was over. How was she going to do that when she couldn’t even make out any of their faces? “So— what’s going on in the world today?” Mary nodded towards Wendy’s paper before resting her head on her friend’s shoulder.

The raven-haired girl’s determination to keep a cool, ice queen-like demeanor could not last long when she found herself around Mary. It was hard not to laugh around her, to smile, and soak up the warmth her friend exuded from every pore. The simple thought of Mary becoming a crucial figure in her life, especially in such a short amount of time, took Wendy’s breath away. It terrified her, knowing it all could potentially end. What is the earth without the sun? In silence, Wendy followed the golden-haired girl’s gaze and stared at the Polaroids she held in her hands: hazy portraits of days already gone by. Perhaps those were the real ghosts, the ones that would haunt them —“us”— when the road trip dream was over. “What’s going on in the world today?” she echoed, unsure on how to respond. It wasn’t until she felt Mary’s head nestled on her shoulder that Wendy felt an answer escaping her lips: “So much, too much.” And there it was, a giggle like a much needed breath of relief. The truth, like a bird out of its cage, was out. “There is so much to be scared of right now, so much to be uncertain about.” She pronounced finally, fright dripping in her every word. “But it’s nice to be here.” As she spoke those last words, Wendy’s cheek inadvertently found itself resting on Mary’s head and even though the gesture was brand new to her, she did not possess the strength to pull away.

[ofwendys]

case file 01: the game is afoot

[ofwendys]

Sam harbored internal conflict about the idea of ghosts. The people he’d grown up with were varying shades of spiritual– there were certainly some who clung to the ideas of spirits (never ghosts)– but others, like Sam’s father, had a more rational explanation for it all. It was more like a metaphor, Sam had come to call it, a metaphor for being connected to oneself and one’s surroundings. The “spirits” really represented a greater awareness.

But now, with the gang, on a cross-country road trip to find ghosts, Sam found himself feeling cynical, at best. From the first time he met Wendy, Sam gathered that she shared his misgivings. Always looking for the logical explanation, it was no wonder the two got paired up. They’d turned it into a little game, of sorts, finding a way to discuss their doubts aside from the whole group.

Neither of them meant any harm by it. Sam was more than happy to consider the possibility of ghosts, or spirits, or whatever else you want to call them, so long as the possibility of another explanation was also on the table. It just so happened that it usually did have a simpler explanation.

Sam had been thinking about this already. Given the size of the town and the information Sawyer had given them about the case, Sam’s guess was about the same. “I’ll play the odds and say four days,” he chucked. “So, where first? City hall, look for any employment records?”

A few steps down Main Street and the town already felt small, almost claustrophobic. It was the kind of dump that could fit in your back-pocket, it’s only purpose being a warning: “See? This is the kind of place that drives folks mad.” It was a mirror image of her hometown. Lord, Sawyer sure knew how to pick these pits.

Wendy offered Sam the quickest hint of a smile in his direction. Four days seemed like the correct estimation, but she would not dare betray her own odds out loud— not when the game had already started. In truth, she wished Sam was right, if only this one time. Seven days in this town would be a nightmare. “City hall sounds groovy,” she nodded slightly. “We can try employment records, but I believe that newspapers might be our best shot at finding something big. I read the newspaper archives are stored there, too.” Her cheeks flushed a light shade of red; she felt the heat burning at both sides of her face. She was a bit embarrassed for always going on about the papers, regardless of whether the gang was discussing a case or not. But those pieces of ink and fragile paper were her guiding light, her map toward hard facts and truth. “I mean, who knows. If Sawyer is really onto something here, there must have been an article written about the asylum at some point.”

[afakepsychic]

[ofwendys]

marygilinskys‌:

“These photos are proof I should never become a photographer.” Mary’s brows furrowed as she stared at the polaroids she’d been taking of her and her friends since they left. They were all blurry, too dark, or way too light– that was probably why Mary wasn’t the one taking pictures for all their cases. She at least wanted a scrapbook to remember everyone by. Mary was sprawled out on her stomach one of the motel beds, feet tapping in the air to The Rolling Stones on an old record player she’d brought along with all her things. Music was the most important thing to Mary, it was her life. “Look– this one makes you have two heads.” Mary snorted as she showed off the picture.

Tenderly, Wendy’s fingers traced the words on the magazine laying on her lap. Her careful touch would’ve made an audience believe she was holding a holy scripture, never meant to be seen by a mortal eye. She’d been in a trance, staring at last week’s edition of Newsweek, until Mary’s voice broke the spell. Wendy had almost forgotten Mary was in the room and the reminder of her presence was a welcomed interruption. A break from the news, a break from the real world. Wendy’s usually cold expression cracked into a smile as she saw Mary’s work. “That must be my dead twin’s head making an appearance. She likes to show off once in a while.” She let out a small chuckle. “I’m kidding. I’m an only child. But not because anyone died, it was naturally that way.” A quick addition, something that had become a trademark in her interactions with the gang. Wendy had the unnatural urge to make sure there were no misunderstandings, even at the cost of her punchlines.

[ofwendys]

case file 01: the game is afoot

[ @samosets​ ] A deep sense of relief washed over Wendy’s bones when she spotted Sam’s reflection on the windows that adorned the shops of Main Street. It was calming, truly, knowing that she’d been paired up with the one person in the group that understood and often shared her own misgivings surrounding the supernatural. There was no malice in her doubt, but some part of her worried if her relentless questioning put a damper in the gang’s dynamic, that perhaps being paired up with Sam had been done on purpose: the non-believers go with the non-believers.

As she quietly walked down the street, absentmindedly flipping her favourite pen between her fingers, she wondered if there was a point in her being there at all when she was so adamant in her own beliefs. Was friendship enough, or a good enough reason, for her to stick around? And was this —playing pretend detective— what she really wanted to do with her life right at this moment, while crucial and life-changing events happened all around her? Questions were all that plagued Wendy’s mind, with no answers in sight.

“How long do you think it will take them to figure out there’s no ghosts here?” another question that bothered her, albeit a more fun and distracting one; one she felt comfortable asking out loud, especially around Sam. They’d been playing this game from the beginning, almost by accident. When she first casually brought up the issue around her friend, Wendy’s regret for putting her foot in her mouth was short-lived. His response set her at ease, made her aware that she was not alone. Now their private game was the only thing that kept her distracted, sane.

“My guess is that we will be in this dump five days, a week tops.”

[ofwendys]

xsawycrs‌:

The guitar had been out of tune ever since they left on their little adventure, but Sawyer still tried to play it every now and then. Curled up in the back of the Mystery Machine, pleasantly stoned—it dulled his intellect, which, frankly, Sawyer needed sometimes—and strumming the out-of-tune guitar and serenading Max, who thumped his tail periodically against the floor of the van. “Not that great, huh, Maxie?” he said, making Max perk up and start wagging his tail as he looked at Sawyer with an expectant gaze. “Yeah, I should really learn how to tune this thing by ear.” Max flopped back down and Sawyer picked up his joint from where it had been smoldering in the ash tray, taking another drag and grinning as the back door to the van opened up. “Hey! Got tickets to the show?”

Under her breath, Wendy counted down from one hundred as she carefully pulled herself away from the group. How long had it been since the last time an invisible and colossal weight crushed her chest, making something as simple as breathing a near impossible feat? She wished there was room in her brain for remembering, but by then panic had set in. Counting down held her focus and steered fear away, but it was only a short-term solution to her problem. Alone time is what she needed and Mary’s van seemed like the perfect place to crash: safe and away from curious eyes.

Without even a second thought, her shaky hands hurried to open the back door of the van and automatically the rest of her body motioned to get inside until her face encountered Sawyer’s. “What the fuck?” Wendy yelped in surprise, somehow managing to catch herself from falling backwards into the ground outside. “Sorry for interrupting... And swearing, I guess,” she corrected herself quickly, her voice trembling as her brain scrambled for reasons to get out of the van now that it was clearly occupied “I was looking for my journal.” A lie, not a great one, but definitely the best one she could think of on the spot. Wendy's eyes wandered around the vehicle as she pretended to search, avoiding her friend’s presence mostly out of embarrassment-fueled panic. She’d give up in a minute and run someplace else later.

[kristina100000]

i am extremely analytical and everything needs to be explained… hate living in the unknown bitch i have to know everything or i will fall into a coma