dead man walking.

RP blog for Ronan O'Connor, ghost detective. Rebooted from 2014. Written by Blue.

[salemspirit]

Seeing your own body lying in the street is like looking in a mirror -- --and not knowing which one's real and which is the reflection.

{RULES. ABOUT. PERMANENT STARTER CALL.}

[salemspirit]

sorry for things being slightly slower rn! feel free to add me on d.scord at piouspools for plotting + chatting (just lmk who you are!)

[deductiions]

( @salemspirit 🔍 )

Two days of research into a fairly gruesome murder case and Sterling felt he was already hot on his suspects trail. In fact, contact with the murder weapon at the scene of the crime was exactly what had prompted a vision that gave him an idea as to where he could only assume the next murder would take place. The killers intention was more of a clue than a fingerprint could ever be .

Stone architecture…stained glass windows…a crucifix…the old abandoned cathedral at the edge of town. Of course!

The detective doesn’t dally—he hurries to the location, crafting a plan of action as he does so. Unfortunately for him, his visions were vague and came to him in pieces which meant there was no telling when this next murder would take place, if he was indeed correct in his hunch. Even still, he’s confident enough in his abilities that any doubts would do little to sway him.

Ernésto enters the large building to find it completely empty, save for a man who seems to be searching for something. There’s something about him though that’s familiar—something he’s encountered before. That ghostly pale complexion, his transparent form—there’s no mistaking it. This man wasn’t among the living.

A ghostly encounter was nothing out of the ordinary for the detective but seeing the spirit is enough to make him think that perhaps he’s too late. Sterling’s eyes grow wide before he hurries over to the transparent being in a power walk and circles him, eyeing him closely while rubbing his chin in thought. Then, his head swivels around in search of the body.

“Surely I’m mistaken… there’s no chance it happened yet…” He scratches his head before his gaze finds the other once more. He leans into his personal space, examining his facial features rather intensely this time.

“Your nose… it looks nothing like the victims nose in my vision.” He observes.

[salemspirit]

Ronan spares the newcomer a glance and nothing more-- the ghost can keep an eye on him from here if he begins to show any suspicious behavior, but for now, the detective has no reason to think that this person is of any note.

As though to prove him wrong, the stranger immediately walks up to him. Ronan is shocked, thrilled, and relieved all at the same time, but before he can say a word, the man has turned away again, muttering to himself. But... Ronan was certain he could actually see him--

Augh. Now he's too close.

"Do you mind? I can see you, too, y'know."

It comes out more sharply than intended. The spirit is happy to know there's someone living in this world who can (potentially) communicate with him, really he is, but for Christ's sake, hasn't this guy ever heard of personal space??

Just because Ronan's dead now doesn't mean he's not a person.

"Look, I--"

Wait. Victim? Vision?

His irritation melts away immediately, and he looks over the other man with narrowed eyes and renewed interest. He's heard of the department calling in psychic consultants here and there (a practice he always found truly ridiculous), but is it possible that this is one of them? And that all that mystic medium crap is actually real?

He crosses his arms, revealing the police badge glowing brightly on his hip.

"I think you better start talking."

[salemspirit]

i stayed up until 4am playing pikmin 1 for the first time. man.

[doomcomes]

*. It chose @salemspirit for a Short Starter!

No one did believe her, ever. Her best friend's image comes to her in waves. Sometimes, it is the first thing she sees in the middle of the night. Other times, the last before she falls asleep. Surely, all just dreams.

But it's all a sign, isn't it? She is still here, in Salem, begging to be found.

There are many such cases like Shauna at the hospital she was admitted to once her mother was unable to keep up with her "nonsense," let alone the rage that came with it. She was told to give up on Jackie, to assume she is dead, but she'll be damned if she accepts that without a body... and with her lingering just out of sight.

Shauna had decided, she'd get out of her room. Trying to stealth her way out, her attempts at an escape come to a screeching halt when she is met with... Holy shit. She lets out a gasp before she has to stabilize herself not to fall down.

"What the– What the fuck?" God, is her mom right? Is she actually losing her mind? In front of her is a figure, ghastly, almost translucent. He doesn't look real. It feels like, if she blinks, he'll fade... But when she does, he is still there, and it freaks her out. It's a struggle to try and keep her voice down.

"Who–...? I–I mean, what are you? Fuck, I'm either crazy or dying or both and you... Are you supposed to be like the Grim Reaper? Shit, did you take Jackie?"

[salemspirit]

Ronan's brow quirks as he waits for a sign that she's seeing him, and not just seeing things. One never knows in a place like this.

...she doesn't hesitate to give him one.

"How many mediums do they have locked up in this shithole?" Joy's already helping Iris out of the building, which leaves Ronan to talk down what is clearly an inexperienced clairvoyant in the middle of her own escape attempt. Could this night get any stranger?

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down. There are orderlies and cameras everywhere. You want to get out of here, right? Just-- stay quiet and let me help you."

Deep breath in. Being mistaken for the Grim Reaper would be kind of funny under different circumstances, but he can't let this kid panic and run away from "death itself" straight into the arms of one of the guards. The staff here are crazier than their patients; who knows when this poor girl will be scheduled for her own round of electroshock if she doesn't get out now?

"My name is Ronan. I'm a detective with the SPD." See? That's his badge right there in full view, glowing brightly against the translucent shadow of his slacks. He's one of the good guys.

"I'm-- also-- a ghost. And you can see me, which means we need to get you to safety."

Who's Jackie? Another victim of the Bell Kiler?

"I'm gonna knock out those cameras for a few minutes. Stay close to me, and I promise we'll have a long chat as soon as we're in the clear."

He tries for a smile. A camera around the corner fizzles out.

Hand outstretched, Ronan beckons her down the dark, looming corridor.

[salemspirit]

m:ss actually DOES have an explanation for why ronan went in alone without backup to try to apprehend like. mr scary serial killer. and surprisingly it's not just "ronan is a stereotype of a 2014 american male power / 'coolness' fantasy mixed with noir tropes."

ronan is canonly suicidal after his wife julia dies and takes a lot of risks hoping to die on the job. and.... he does!!! success for mr o'connor!!!!! /lh

[dcllfang]

; — @salemspirit BIT DOWN on the CALL🩸

All being said, the blonde ADORED Salem. The history had always fascinated her, in addition to the old town FEELING surrounding pieces of it. The influx of tourists led for a FEEDING GROUND much more her speed — bars open too late with men too pushy. The back of her delicate hand smearing crimson slickly off the corner of her mouth.

╭MESSY LITTLE BEAST╮

Intent on returning to her rented room before a soft glow SNAGS her attention — like someone had hung a miniature moon around the edge of the building. CURIOSITY consumes as she steps around the corner, all sanguine stained sneakers and bleach drenched wisps of hair. The LIGHT was a figure, a man with GLOWING pinpricked hearth light speckling his chest. ‪

❝Well, I’ll be damned,❞ ‬tumbles from her too glossed lips unconsciously.

╭SHE HAS A FEELING SHE OWES SOMEONE SOMEWHERE MONEY╮ ‪

❝This is new,❞ ‬the final word is drawled with the relish of someone stepping into some fresh GAME.

[salemspirit]

People watching is one of the few things that are made easier by being dead. Whether it's standing unnoticed in a crowd of people or literally putting himself in another's shoes to catch snippets of their innermost thoughts, Ronan's never before had such simple methods of sniffing out the secrets of his town. It's so easy it almost feels a little creepy and a lot invasive, but a good detective can't be bothered by things like a person's right to privacy. ...right?

He tosses his cigarette onto the grimy street and grinds it out with his heel (it'll show up in his hand again in pristine condition sooner or later, it always does) and narrows his eyes at one of the few passers-by still out at this time of night who he hasn't tailed yet. She's a much closer match to the Bell Killer's victims than she is to the guy himself, but it's obvious even from afar that the blood on her shoes and smeared across her hand isn't hers. She better not be looking to grace Salem with a second round of serial killing.

Ronan straightens up, ready to follow her, but their eyes meet before he has the chance to take a single step.

Well, isn't this just great.

He'd really, really, really like to believe that she's a medium, but even without a beating heart, he can feel his blood run cold at the otherworldly, predatory gleam in her eye.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Don't even say it. He's just wrapped his head around the existence of ghosts, and now-- what? He has to deal with the fact that monsters roam the streets?

The fact that vampires exist right here in Salem?

(After all, what other creature could possibly look so human, yet be able to commune with the dead?)

"That blood looks fresh. Are they still alive?"

[night-springs]

[museflocked]

Chad had started to calm down upon realizing it was Ronan standing in the doorway. He continued pulling he clothes on, only peripherally giving Ronan his attention. The statement that "he finally caught up to me" was confusing, though. What the hell did that mean?

Chad finished buttoning his shirt up and looked back up at Ronan. His hand had been raising a path to roll up his sleeves but stopped when Chad's eyes landed on the holes scattered over Ronan's chest. He just stared for a moment, face pale as he tried to wrap his brain around what he was looking at.

"What the fuck?" Chad breathed at first, and then louder, "What the fuck is that!? What happened to you? You're not fucking dead...! I c– I can see you, you're not fucking dead...!"

He was freaking out.

[salemspirit]

“What did I just say!” For Christ’s sake, Chad. Haven’t you ever seen a dead person before?

“Okay. Just calm down. Hell, have a drink if you need to, I’m sure a place like this has its own minibar.”

Ronan sighs and leans up against the doorframe, promptly falling through it out of sight for a moment before he steps back into the room. How embarrassing…!

Finding a suitable memory of a wall to lean against, he tries again:

“I am dead. And you can see me. And before you notice the badge and start flipping out on me again, yeah, I’m a cop. Or at least I was. I don’t think they count dead detectives as still being on the force.”

Are there any other big surprises he ought to spring on Chad before he forgets?

“I think that’s about it, except for the fact that I’m still on a case. You’ve heard about the Bell Killer murders, haven’t you? Don’t worry, you ain’t his type— he doesn’t go after big ugly lugs.”

Ronan grins, teasing. See? It’s just like the old days. Nothing to be scared of, Chad.

[night-springs]

Where you are is a prison… or a bridge. It all depends on how you see it.

[punchedharder]

@salemspirit. ⸻ °｡

Same shit. Different day. Monotonous routines could be comforting for some. For Emily, it's been a prison for five years. What deviance there was to her usual tended to be worse off, and that was the only comfort that could be found in the repetitive day to day so far. Wake up. Make coffee. Shower or not. Get dressed. Go do whatever work  he  needs for the day. Train. Fight. Win. Go home. Try to sleep. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

Emily's on the   Win and Go Home   part of this checklist, but there's not exactly an air of relief about her now that the day's coming to a close. Her shoulders are still tense, wound tight and ready to snap. She's got blood still caked down her cupid's bow, smeared out across her face in her feeble attempts to wipe it away when her nose was bleeding fresh. A split eyebrow she'd have to mend while dinner heated up, throbbing and bruising up above her eye. It was the only bruise she'd go home with, either. The rest of her arms, sides, and chest looked like a midnight Pollock -   all kinds of cool shades that she didn't care to look at anymore. It wasn't blood and that's what mattered.

A long walk in the night gave her some air, cool and crisp and leaving her in steamy fogs as she breathes. She's close enough to her apartment complex that she's digging around her jacket for her keys, getting them into her hands. There's a bit of hesitation, lingering on the sidewalk as she glances across to one of the still open bodegas, going off course to grab something there. A self-chosen deviance   ( and a better dinner than her freezer prepped chicken and rice would do her )   that feels, for once, a little deserved. The owner's got some stools and she sits in the middle of the three. He makes some kind of familiar comment about her banged-up face and she entertains it with a laugh and a dismissal. Even with the owner there, it still feels enough of a private moment for herself to enjoy. Sitting in her own quiet, taking one bite at a time, ignoring the sting of all her injuries from her last fight.

[salemspirit]

Same shit. Different day. The streets are overrun with scum, people willing to hurt anyone and everyone around them to get what they want. Ronan thanks god and Rex that he's not a part of it anymore, but in some ways, it's even worse being on this side of the law. All the red tape standing between him and what he needs to do...

Still, there are some perks to wearing a badge. Most people-- some people-- actually believe him nowadays when he says he's here to help.

He hopes "Emily Brass" is one of them.

Ronan approaches slowly when she pauses in her route. He's been tailing her for a while now, waiting until he's certain no one else is doing the same before he risks actually speaking to her. If he's right about all the shit he suspects she's wrapped up in, the last thing she needs is someone from "work" seeing her talking to a police officer.

He sits down next to her with his hands empty of any weapons and in full view. The detective looks between the bruises marring her face and the man at the bodega, subtly gesturing to the police badge on his hip at an angle that only Emily will be able to see. Ronan doesn't need this bystander getting nosy about why a cop's looking to chat with Ms. Brass.

"Hey," he starts. He's watching her for any sign that she's about to bolt.

"Why don't you take that to go? I'd like to talk to you. Privately." It's not a request.

[temp0rt5l]

❝ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ɪꜰ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴜɴ-ᴀᴅᴏᴘᴛᴇᴅ .❞

independent, slow, selective ,  FIVE HARGREEVES as portrayed in Netflix’s Umbrella Academy. heavy on the comic influence && own headcanons - && excluding s4.  exploring themes of lost time, debilitating depression, what superpowers do to a mind, violence, murder as a hobby, starting again, not being good enough for your family,  family trauma, ptsd and self-destruction.

barely held together with duct tape and glue by peter, 33, GMT, est june 2022 || rebooted june 2026

[silenstvi]

@salemspirit GOT A STARTER 🖤

Alice had met numerous things in her lifetime, Humans, Monsters pretty much anything and everything that people assumed crawled amongst the night. but one thing she hadn't met was well a ghost which was rather surprising considering how much she ran around or focusing on work.

She would go through her regular routine, work ,eat sleep rinse and repeat she didn't really have friends but that was something that was her personal doing; perhaps it was due to her distrust towards others or just her awful socialization skills , she was about to start her routine walking to work but something was wrong... something was different to her.

That was when she noticed him...he didn't look like a normal person at least what she'd consider normal. but he didn't look like a monster as well which was ... interesting . she would take a moment before approaching Ronan and clearing her throat.

"You uh.... okay there? I mean as okay as you can be with the whole glowing thing going on..."

[salemspirit]

By now, the concept of mediums has become familiar enough to the detective that he doesn't jump and gasp and thank god that someone can see him as soon as he's addressed. Still, it's not as though it's common to meet someone who's sensitive to the spirit realm, and when he turns to face her, it's with mild surprise.

"Heh. Yeah, being dead tends to put a damper on things, doesn't it? ...I'm fine. Just lost in thought."

Lost in thought about his investigation into a murderer who seems to be targeting those with the ability to communicate with the dead.

People like her.

"I should ask you the same thing. The world's a dangerous place right now."

"I'm Ronan." He offers his hand despite knowing full well that hers will pass right through it.

"You mind answering a few questions for me, like if you've seen anything unusual around here besides yours truly?"

[necromycologist]

your brother is basically a classic person to kill

[museflocked]

↬ Closed Starter for @salemspirit ↫

⤨▦⤪

Chad stretched, and he felt every muscle in his body ache horribly. It had been a rough night, and his head was pounding. He'd had a pretty slim string of burglaries recently, and the days of grandiose jewel heists were faded, well behind him.

A deeper ache hit him, right in that place in his side. And memories flooded back with the feeling, pain that he relived every time he felt it.

"Fuck..." He whispered, and he reached over to grab up the bottle of beer that he knew he'd left there. He brought it to his lips, but was met with dry glass. "Shit."

Chad's tongue darted out to wet his lips as he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Plush carpet met his feet, and for a moment he just took it in with a smile. There was always something nice about these vacation homes. They were always done up for people that were never there, which meant he could live like a king as long as he came in on the off-season. Another deep stretch and then he was on his feet, moving from the bed to the luxurious vanity where he'd haphazardly thrown his clothes the night before.

Chad managed to get through pulling his button up over his arms and sticking one leg into his pants before the sight of a man standing just outside the bedroom door registered to him. And when it did, the situation suddenly went from a quiet lazy morning to fight or flight.

"Oh shit!" Chad barked, stumbling back and nearly tripping on his own pants. "What the fuck!?"

That was when the face registered, his tired brain slowly catching up to his eyeballs, and the moment of sheer panic passed as quick as it came. He knew this guy. He'd run with this guy, for a time. A partner, for what little time they'd been together. He still remembered how Ronan had taken care of his wound all those years ago... Maybe one of the only good partners he'd ever had.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Ronan," Chad huffed, getting back to pulling his clothes on. "You scared the shit outta me. I didn't know you ran these parts."

Chad still hadn't noticed the bullet holes that riddled Ronan's chest.

[salemspirit]

Ronan hadn't seen Chad in person since joining the police force, but he had kept tabs on his old partner here and there. If the man's name came up in reports, Ronan would quietly ensure that it disappeared. An abuse of power? Definitely. But it's nothing compared to what Rex had done to get O'Connor his position as detective, and as far as Ronan's concerned, he didn't help keep Chad alive back in the old days just to watch him rot in a cell now. He's fond of the guy-- he can admit that.

...fond enough to come see him now that he has nothing else to do. He hasn't abandoned the Bell Killer case-- he quite literally can't if he ever hopes to escape this purgatory-- but death has granted him a bit of a reprieve from the hustle and bustle of daily life, and he's chosen to spend his newfound eternity catching up with old friends.

Ronan huffs out a laugh as he watches Chad. The guy hasn't changed a bit. But, hey, if he's able to apply his old street talents to crashing on a rich couple's couch nowadays, more power to him.

The ghost's brows shoot up in surprise when the thief reacts to something, and he glances around as though he'll catch sight of whatever startled the guy. There's nothing there but Ronan himself.

His growing suspicions are confirmed a moment later when he's addressed by name.

Holy shit.

"I never pegged you for someone in touch with your spiritual side," he mutters, still reeling from the sudden realization that someone can actually see him.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't-- I mean, I had no idea--"

How is he supposed to explain himself?

"I don't. I came to see you. I-- let me put it this way. We 'cheated death' back then, but he finally caught up to me." Ronan spreads his arms wide to show off the ghastly, glowing wounds ripping through his chest.

"Do not freak out."

[salemspirit]

obsessed w this. me an da squaddd

[museflocked]

There was something oddly comforting about the warmth of Ronan's hand on his, and it occured to him in this strange place that his mind found itself in that he couldn't remember the last time someone had been so careful with him. Or even if he'd ever experienced such tenderness in his life.

He wasn't in any real danger, not yet anyway, so the fading in his mind had to just be the exhaustion of everything they had just been through all piled together. He had to really pay attention to hear what Ronan was saying to him, and he tried to pull a smile that he hoped would be equally encouraging.

"Yeah," he grunted softly. "No big deal, I've got this."

His hand squeezed tight against the wound, and he heaved out strained breaths as he struggled to stand again. The question now was where to go to get cleaned up. He wasn't going to let himself be drug into a hospital. That was a bill he didn't need.

"Lead the way," he huffed to Ronan. "Just don't take me to a fucking hospital..."

[salemspirit]

Ronan does his best to support his partner's weight. He keeps glancing down at the wound, ready to admonish Chad if the pressure on it gets lighter and the bleeding gets worse.

"How stupid do you think I am?" Hospitals mean cops, and cops mean-- well. They both know what would happen to them if they stuck around long enough for the police to start sniffing around.

"I'm bringing you to a drug store. We're gonna get you loaded up on pain meds, and I'm going to sew you up myself. Got a problem with that?" Ronan's voice is flat. After a moment, he continues, more gently: "I'm actually pretty good at this stuff, I promise. Just trust me on this one."

He slows, finally looking at Chad's face again.

"Thanks for not leaving me behind, by the way. I know you could've. And I know we're not exactly close. But we were in it together, and we made it out together, yeah?" He won't forget this. As far as he's concerned, Chad, you've earned his respect, loyalty, and appreciation.