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heyheyitsstillgay · 6 years ago

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Respect the Dead

Phandom Phic Phight Entry #2 based on a prompt from @whosvladagain

#TeamGhost team leader @ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

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Words: 3,635; Status: Complete

TW: Panic, Vomit mention, themes of death.

Okay, he looks significantly less friendly than Wulf. Though, perhaps a tad nicer than Cujo's angry form. Maybe Danny can calm him down, slowly lead him somewhere safer. Coax him away from Casper High, without getting into a fight that promises to be filled with sharp teeth and claw marks. Clockwork forbid the school bell goes off when a ghost wolf who clearly has a lot of pent up anger is stalking the halls not far from the gym.

"Easy, boy." Phantom mutters, hand stretched in front of him in what he hopes is a non-threatening manner. When he first tried to aim the thermos at him the ghost-wolf lashed out. Danny's unsure if the animal knows what the thermos can do, or is aware it's a threat, or perhaps is confusing the metallic contraption for a gun. Either way the ghost boy is too close to the animal right now to try anything like that again without getting his glove bitten off. Sure, his Hazmat got ruined all the time, he's slightly more concerned about the hand residing in the glove though. It would be nice to return to class in one piece rather than partially digested by a wolf or exposed to some kind of spectral rabies. Maybe? Do ghosts have rabies? Okay, we'll be wondering if bacteria has the possibility for an ecto afterlife when we're in a slightly less half-life threatening situation, perhaps.

Danny keeps his knees bent and his stance wide to improve his balance and increase his reaction time whilst still making himself smaller in hopes of appearing less threatening. He moves around the spirit in a circle, not wanting to risk getting any closer. Maybe if he can find a blind spot he can shoot the thermos from there. He's hesitant to put distance between them. Surely the last thing to do when faced with a growling wild animal, is give chase. Would the animal freak if he floated or phased? Was hiding in the air vents a really idiotic plan?

Given the direction he was walking he was about to hit a wall, or rather go through it and into the boys locker room. If he left the wolf's line of sight he had no doubt it would bolt after him. After all, Phantom's the only person the wolf has seen here, if he's going to try to hunt anyone down then it's him. Class is still in session so there's no humans nearby enough for the wolf to go after.

There is a door to the boys locker room which would make entry less hazardous than phasing, he thinks. Going through that entrance however would require moving closer to the beast, which isn't going to happen.

Side hitting the wall, he phases through. From within the plasterboard he kicks upwards into the ceiling as he hears the crash of the animal splintering the wooden door open. Great. More property damage. He floats into the air ducts and regains his solidity. For some reason the crashing sound hasn't stopped. The wolf is yelping, growling, whimpering, the clattering going on sounds almost metallic as it echoes through the vents. Danny tentatively places his fingers onto the walls around him. Tail rippling as he meanders forward, slowly, towards the light leaking in from below, the grates of the vent. If he can aim the thermos through it unnoticed, then that's this confrontation solved.

"Damn it! Pesky mutt!" Danny freezes as a deep voice reverberates from below. "Where did he go?!" It growls as a sickening splat cuts through all other sounds of chaos. Danny's habit of breathing stops as he remains as still as he can. That sound… that wasn't good.

The smell of copper and formaldehyde bites at his nose hairs and he almost chokes. He can taste it at the back of his throat against the rising acid. Ectoplasm.

That wasn't all, Skulker is down there. Quiet settling over them that yelled louder in his ears than anything previously from that room.

The wolf was gone. Must have been. Scent alone told him that much. Smoky as though it's very ectoplasm had been grilled. He knew the smell of destabilisation. Skulker swore. Why could Danny smell pine needles now? And fresh grass? Why did that make the urge to vomit even harder to suppress?

He doesn't want to see, doesn't want to know. Unbidden, his body floats forward without him telling it to. He reaches the grate, can finally see the state of the locker room below him. Pupils shrinking to the size of pinpricks, his throat closes at the sight.

Skulker isn't looking at him, fortunately, though it's clear the hunter can sense his prey is still nearby. The wolf, the bait, Danny realises, is barely recognisable. It's clear where it happened, a glowing blue net loose against the wall next to the door. With his enhanced hearing, Phantom can hear the net humming faintly. Was it, supposed to do this? The halfa wonders to himself.

Chunks of green lie below the net, barely touching it. Ectoplasm was usually viscous, think cornstarch in water, able to change between thin liquid and liquid thick enough to stand on its own. The chunks down there looked more like raw lime jello. With lines of black from where it had clearly made contact with the net. Dark smoke continued to rise from it in wisps. None of the discernibly wolf features remained. A light in the pile, a natural forest green compared to the now dark rotting green of the rest, it glowed like a flickering light. Something was oozing from it, but it wasn't ectoplasm, it was something deeper, more important, vital. It evaporated into mist immediately after contact with the air. The wolf's core had ruptured, cracked, shattering, it was bleeding out right in front of them and neither of the ghosts were trying to do anything about it. There wasn't anything they could do. An involuntary shiver wracks Danny's body as another wave of tree bark and pine passes over him.

They shouldn't be so close, this is so incredibly personal. No one should be looking at this, no one should be smelling this. But the animal died with them. It shouldn't be alone for this. It's too much, a new level of suffering and death that no spirit should ever have to go through. It's essence and soul is clinging to the scents in the air around them. Phantom and Skulker are the only people who can accept it, so they must.

It takes another fourteen minutes for the glow to leave the core and the smell around them to disperse. After which time, Skulker lowers his head. Placing a hand against his chest plate, the hunter mumbles an apology in ghost speak before he turns tail and leaves the room through the wall. This was hardly a situation to continue the hunt, so he doesn't.

Danny didn't like toast already, why the hell would Skulker have a ghost toaster? It was barbaric. Intentional core damage was very taboo, by everyone's standards, not just Walker's. The ghost boy moves through the vent and descends until he drops onto the floor by his toes. Neither of them have moved the net or disturbed the remains. Regular ectoplasm would evaporate naturally over time, he hopes that's able to happen now. He feels a slight territorial growl at the thought of any humans interfering with the animal husk. Glaring at the splintered door, he drags a bench in front of it. Stepping back with his head at a tilt, he uses his ghostly strength to stack another bench on top of it, in hopes that the humans would get the message. Stay Out. Sighing to himself, he mumbles a "good luck" in ghost speak before turning and leaving via the wall.

"Oh good grief." Ms Tetslaff grumbles as she passes the boys locker room on her way to the gym. She doesn't care who did it but if she does find out who then they're in for one hell of a kickboxing match. She slams her fist into her other palm and cracks her knuckles. How could someone cause chaos like this on tonight of all nights!? They needed to have the gym looking it's best! If she discovers even a hint of disturbance in that room too, she just might lose it.

The gym is fine, thankfully. Principal Ishiyama is in there with Mr Falluca, discussing the layout for the room. Tonight was supposed to be prom night, they had around 5 hours to decorate before students were meant to be arriving. Laraine calms herself and marches over to the folded tables to set them up along the wall.

"An Inspector Calls! Laraine!" Edward Lancer poked his head through the doors to the gym, exasperated. "Could you lend us a hand please? It seems that door has been barricaded from the inside, as well as broken into pieces!" Mrs Tetslaff nods and sets down the table she was carrying.

Ghosts then? She huffs. At least that means the students will live to see another day, unless the culprit is still inside. In which case they won't be having anything to do with tonight's celebrations if she gets a say in it. She punches her arm through the wide crack in the wood and grasps tightly onto the edge of whatever's blocking it beneath. Bracing her shoulders against the door, she flicks her wrist and shoves against it. They all hear the clatter of the barrier as she steps back and slams against the door again. This time it gives, they force through into the room.

Mrs Tetslaff's eyes dart around the mess. Yep, definitely ghosts. Wheeling his cleaning cart next to her, the long suffering janitor heaves a huge sigh and grumbles to himself. She shoots him a sympathising look before returning to the gym with Edward.

In the past, proms at Casper had always had themes; Medieval times, Fantasy, 70's night. Some genius on the PTA decided this year's should have a supernatural theme. Oh the hilarity. Some adults were in one corner blowing up black balloons and preparing to decorate the walls with the Halloween supplies, while the librarian and Mr Falluca seemed to have had the idea of putting an orange feather boa on the skeleton from the biology department. As if that could only ever end well. Mrs Tetslaff finished setting the tables up, lined with black plastic table cloths, ready for punch, nibbles and candy.

"Oh for- The Legend of Sleepy Hollow!" Laraine marches over to the exasperated English teacher.

"Whatever is it now, Edward?" The man was reaching the end of his tether and responds only by shoving the Halloween bunting into her hands.

"Ah." Or rather, the remains of the Halloween bunting. Disintegration appears to have occurred while it was in the box. Although, upon closer inspection, the plastic maintains an unnatural cold and there are faint scorch marks at the edge of the ribbons. Ghosts, again. So they were going to have a prom in a room with a skeleton and a lot of black balloons, seems more like a particularly gothic funeral than a celebration for teenagers.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Mr Lancer sighed, picking through the box and watching it all turn to dust at his fingertips.

"Quit mopin'," she began, "I'm sure we'll think of something. I'll head to the shops and see if there's anything I can find."

"But it's the middle of May?!" He exclaimed, she simply levelled him a glare and stepped towards the gym doors with heavy feet.

On her way out when she crossed paths with the janitor, something in particular catches her eye. She does a double take, taps the elderly man on the shoulder and points towards the object in question.

"Can I borrow this?" She asks, "I might just have had a really good idea." She remembers the art teacher is stood just a room away, he is going to love this.

The trio had left for prom a tad early, expecting to be caught up in ghost attacks and ending up fashionably late. None of them want to inconvenience any dates so they've decided to go together as friends, just in case. If somehow no ghosts attack and Tucker ends up meeting someone he likes while they're there, then good for him. Danny and Sam will just have to despair at his absence. As if they don't have the pleasure of seeing him everyday.

For once in their lives, however, Amity was actually being pretty quiet tonight. The trio are left to their own excitement for the upcoming party. Tucker is smiling gleefully, pride rolling from his shoulders over his hand-made costume.

"I say we have a contest tonight, see how many girls Danny Phantom can get, versus how many girls the far superior, younger, fresher, finer, Tucker Phantom can get?" He brushes his fingers through his white anime wig and glances over to his friend.

While said friend is undeniably Danny Phantom, at this time he's just Danny Fenton, black hair, red trainers and blue jeans. The only difference being his shirt, while still white, this shirt has black text that reads 'Nobody knows I'm dead.'

"Or you can spend tonight enjoying yourself in ways that don't involve pressuring someone into showing you affection." Sam rolls her eyes playfully at her friend.

"You're just jealous that you couldn't put together a cool ghost cosplay in time!"

"Um- you think I'm a cool ghost?" Danny cracked a smile.

"Hell yeah man, you're friends with me aren't you? That alone makes you the coolest, never mind the awesome super powers and the teen idolisation." The halfa just shakes his head and feels his cheeks heat in response.

"For the record," Sam spoke up "I don't feel the need to dress up as a ghost, not to infringe on or appropriate the culture of spirits or anything, but I'm dead inside all the time anyway. I can be a creature of the night any old day of the week." she stated with pride. It's not like she isn't making an effort, this year she has a black gothic dress with green and gold detailing, no one questions how she is able to speak so clearly with those fangs in her mouth again.

"Speaking of effort," Tucker redirects his attention, "Hey Danny, what happened to cutting some holes in a bed sheet and layering them over that outfit? You know no one's going to get that t-shirt, right?"

"Firstly, you've met my dad. In what universe is it safe to walk within 9 yards of him with a bed sheet over your head, regardless of species. Secondly, you guys get the t-shirt and I'm not wearing it for any one else, I'm wearing it for me because it is hecking hilarious. I paid good money for this online okay? You can't take this away from me, I won't let you." He pouted exaggeratedly at Tucker while the teen giggled at the imagery of Jack Fenton single handedly destroying a whole bed section of a store.

Turning into Casper High, Sam's heels click against the concrete as they walk towards the back entrance to the gym. An aged looking banner adorns the entryway, the double doors are closed. Nearby stood the ticket stand, the line for which is considerably short, though it makes sense considering how early in the night it is.

The trio slow their pace as they near the queue. A slight chill is in the air, Sam folds her arms into her torso, Tucker's jaw clenches, something like liquid nitrogen tries to crawl up Danny's throat. It's not too unusual, it's early evening but more notably - they live in a ghost town. Usually there's plenty of cold spots dotted around the place, even more so when the halfas are around, which is why he's not particularly off put. That is, until the couple at the front of the queue head inside, the moment the door cracks open.

A sense of foreboding increases tenfold. The first thing that hits him is the smell. It's odd but his head still snaps up and his breathing slows instinctively. He's not sure why it has his attention. It reminds of cheap watered down bleach, or the stuff he uses to clean his parents lab when there's been a particularly bad explosion that demands his attention. It looks fairly dark inside, but there's an unpromising quality to it, a light glow that resonates within him. Eyebrows creasing, Danny remains silent as the three teens take a few steps forwards in line.

Eye contact is maintained with the door the whole wait. If Sam and Tucker notice his examining gaze then they don't comment on it. Next time the door opens it has his full attention. The room, it almost has an aura of its own. His core doesn't poke towards it in curiosity like it would a ghost and obviously his ghost sense hasn't gone off, so what's going on? Maybe there's some kind of giant ghostly relic that's somehow found its way into his school gym. Okay, that sounds stupid. They're almost in anyway, he'll see what's happening for himself then.

When they reach the table the ghost boy doesn't spare a glance for whoever's manning the stall. He simply slams his money down and marches over to the door, arms outstretched. With a tug of the handle he drags the door wide open.

The lights are off, but it's not pitch black. The walls are covered with something that he's certain everyone else here is under the delusion of being glow in the dark paint. It forms shapes that dance across the walls, little characters whose faces are mock attempts of scary, but it's not the smiles that are sinister. His friends are at his side as the realisation settles further. That is not glow in the dark paint.

Yes, it smelt like his parents basement. Ectoplasm mixed with disinfectant. He recognises the smell now there isn't a barrier in the way. His pupils faded from his eyes as realisation dawned, exactly where this ectoplasm was from, who this ectoplasm was from. Green is all he can see, it's swarming his senses, filling his oesophagus, thrashing against his sides.

No, that wasn't the ectoplasm. People had their hands on him, grabbing him, holding him, trying to drag him one way or another. It feels like he's drowning but his mouth is dry, his chest is constricting. Faintly, a part of him is surprised that his soul hasn't left his body yet. His core is flaring, trying to reach out.

He wants to hunt down whoever is responsible, wants to hurt them. Wants to rip the building down by shaping the ectoplasm in his fingers into claws, wants to chase everyone away and carefully peel the remains from the walls and find somewhere safer to put them. Idiot. Leaving someone's final remains in a public school. What were Skulker and himself expecting from humans?

Woah, back up. Stop. He could calm down from this. Blinking, his eyes burn with un-shed tears. He grips the grass between his fingers until his knuckles turned white. He releases a shaky breath and takes another one. Regaining his bearings, it registers that he's sat in the grass a little away from the building but still on school grounds. His head feels too heavy for his neck to hold, so he drops it. Facing down towards his knees, he clasps his eyes shut and focuses on evening his breathing to that of a regular human being. He shoves down the panic that rises as his vision is clouded by eyelids that carry a faint green tinge. His throat feels red raw now that the numbness is leaving his body, like someone had forced him to swallow acid. He hadn't vomited had he? He cracks his eyes open to check his surroundings. Tucker is sat next to him, hovering a hand over Danny's shoulder but hesitant to actually touch him. The techno-geek looks startled, the thumb of his left hand moving swiftly across his PDA as his eyes scan the text. Sam isn't nearby. She's a distance away, closer to the gym than she is to him, waving her hands frantically in the face of one of the chaperones.

Danny rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes and fully raises his head. The movement draws a flinch out of his best friend whose head snaps up to check over him with wide eyes.

"You okay, man?" The boy asks, voice soft and steady, "Blood Blossoms gone?" "Blood Blossoms?" the halfa croaks, hand clutching at his throat in a vain attempt to fix the cracks. "Yeah, it looked pretty bad. I couldn't see the red lightning like last time though. I was trying to check if there was some other subspecies with slightly different properties, we couldn't see the circle anywhere either. You seemed kind of… mad when we tried to get you away but you started to calm down after a minute or so, so like…" He trails off and smiles reassuringly, Danny pretends not to notice the dark circle beginning to blossom on his friend's jaw or the feeling of drying red blood cracking beneath his own fingernails. The trembling across his form is dying down as he shakes his head slowly. "That wasn't-" His voice creaks and he tries again "wasn't Blood Blossoms. Th-they, um…" biting his cheek to centre himself, he swears, it comes out as a shaky whisper.

"What kind of awful, terrifying creature, lines their walls with the blood and broken soul of the dead and gone?"

Based on WhosVladAgain’s Prompt: They're doing prom decorations and ran out of glow in the dark paint; luckily ectoplasm does too…

#panic //#emetophobia //#death //#its like a minor ghost character its fine #i just saw this prompt and was like 'im sorry how is that not ominous as hell??'#phic phight #phic phight 19 #phic phight 2019 #own post #owly writes #teamghost #danny phantom #danny fenton #((the net was supposed to get hot enough to make a halfa transform back into human form))#ficlet

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nekojitachan · 6 years ago

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The Ghost in You ch3

Andrew POV scene (this is about halfway done, so maybe another week?)

very vague reference to Andrew’s past

*******

Knowing Josten’s preference for arriving early, Andrew reached the coffee house half before he’d told the man to meet him there, determined to arrive first for once. He ordered a large double mocha and a slice of chocolate cake then picked a table in the far back, away from the other customers with his back to the wall, and exchanged a few texts with Aaron and Nicky while he waited.

As expected, there had been some ‘excitement’ at work over… whatever the hell had happened in the one room with Dan and the new kid. The official story was faulty wiring and another nuclear meltdown on behalf of the kid, and if she was at anyplace other than Palmetto Services she’d probably be on her way out the door, doped to the gills as she was labeled too mentally unstable to go into foster care.

But she was at Palmetto Services, and it took more than sparking lights and flying chairs for them to abandon a kid in need. Dan was more determined than ever to reach her, and Andrew to figure out the truth behind one ‘Neil Josten’.

Especially since all the weird shit seemed to have started after Neil had arrived at Palmetto Services.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear – one Neil Josten walked through the door, dressed in worn, faded black jeans, running sneakers, and a large, navy blue peacoat which all but swallowed him up. He glanced around once he stepped inside the coffee shop, dark eyes darting about until he noticed Andrew in the back, then went to order something. While Andrew watched, he swore that some teenager too busy looking at his phone was shoved back a good two feet when he nearly walked into Neil’s back while he waited in line.

For someone who never was on his phone at work (that Andrew had seen) and refused to give out his number or personal information so his coworkers could message or contact him on various social media, Andrew was surprised when Josten used his phone to pay for his drink, then watched how he waited for the employee to set the drink down before he picked it up once it was ready. Hmm, did someone have a phobia? Andrew thought about all the times he’d seen Josten and couldn’t recall him willingly touching anyone.

Which made it interesting when someone tried to move their chair back from a table when Josten headed toward the back, where Andrew sat, only for that invisible… whatever around the young man to shove the woman back toward the table. Josten didn’t react, merely continued on his way and set his beverage down on the table then shrugged off his coat before he sat opposite of Andrew, appearing unconcerned at having his back to everyone.

“Minyard.”

Andrew pushed the empty plate aside and leaned back in his chair despite the slight twinge it provoked in his bruised ribs. “You have a thing for being early?”

“I was taught that it’s rude to be late,” Josten said as he wrapped his hands around his drink; he wore an overlarge dark grey sweatshirt with thumbhole sleeves, which only left the uppermost tips of his fingers exposed. “As is basically extorting them to talk to you.”

Andrew clicked his tongue together and fought the urge for a cigarette since the place was non-smoking. “Somehow I feel that’s a jab at me, but I distinctly remember us making a deal – a truth for a truth. So start talking.”

“Here. You want to talk here.” Neil’s fake brown eyes glanced around while his long, elegant fingers (well, the tips at least) tapped against the cup of what looked to be tea, judging from the printed label on it. “Brilliant.”

“Yes,” Andrew said as he switched to German. “Let’s begin with you telling me what the hell that thing was, yesterday, and don’t try to say that it’s bad wiring. I saw a chair hover in the air, and that’s not the first time weird shit has happened around the girl.”

Josten nibbled on his full bottom lip for a couple of seconds then shivered; Andrew sensed the air grow cold around them and the plate moved an inch before Josten shook his head. “It might be a bit difficult to believe.”

He didn’t seem surprised that Andrew knew German, but then again, Andrew was related to Nicky. It also spoke of Josten being highly adaptable, which was something that Andrew would have to remember for the future. “I’ve a very open mind.”

Josten scoffed at that as he brushed back the hair falling onto his face, which drew Andrew’s attention to the fact that his left cheek was swollen and red, as if he’d been smacked recently.

He hadn’t been injured when he left work yesterday.

“Open enough to believe in the supernatural?”

The question distracted Andrew from Neil’s face and made him think of the cross hanging heavy and warm around his neck before he opened his mouth and say that was ridiculous. Instead, he had a sip of his cooling coffee and remembered Renee telling him to take a ‘leap of faith’, remembered what had happened yesterday and the week before out in the parking lot. “So what is it? Superpowers or unnatural beings?” he asked instead.

It was quiet again while Josten’s gaze grew vacant for about a minute, then he shivered. “Yesterday… yesterday was what you’d call a poltergeist,” he explained as he stared at his drink as if afraid to look anywhere else.

“So a ghost.”

“No, not a ghost,” Neil snapped as he gazed at Andrew once more; for some reason Andrew took that as a victory of sorts. “Not exactly. That’s like saying a tiger is a housecat or a samurai sword is a utensil, it’s a grave misclassification.”

“And why is that?” Andrew asked, intrigued despite himself by… intrigued despite himself.

“Because… because a ghost can be harmless, can be an unfocused remnant. Not always, but sometimes, especially if their death was non-violent. Their powers also vary, it’s why you have some stories where all they do is appear now and then to people, or maybe you have things move around. Poltergeists?” Neil shivered again and paused to sip his tea. “They’re the basis of the more violent stories, of when people are hurt and things destroyed because they’re created out of violence and trauma. And if they’re attached to someone from their previous life? Then they’ll destroy whoever gets between them and that person or who they see as a threat to the person.”

Andrew wished he could have a cigarette while he thought about everything Josten had just said right then, and about what hadn’t been said. “This poltergeist is ‘attached’ to Amelia and protecting her.” Josten gave a slight nod. “It’s her brother, right? She keeps mentioning her brother’s name.”

“I believe so, which means that there’s a blood bond between them and makes it even more powerful.” Josten sighed before he had another sip of tea.

“How do you know all of this?” Andrew asked, then did some sighing of his own when Josten gave him a razor-sharp smile lacking in warmth.

“Ah-ah, I gave you quite the answer right there, so now it’s my turn.” Josten went to lay his left palm on the table but stopped the motion just short for some reason and wrapped his hand around the paper cup again. “You don’t seem to know anything about ghosts, yet something’s different about you this past week.” He studied Andrew for several seconds, his gaze intent, then let out a slight huff. “You’re wearing a ward, who gave it to you and why?”

Technically that was two questions, but Josten had been rather loquacious for once in regards to explaining about poltergeists so Andrew would let it go that time. Right then, he was curious as to how the young man had picked up on the necklace and why he was so interested in it… and hated how all his questions for Josten kept piling up. “A friend gave it to me.” When Josten regarded him with open disdain for that evasive answer, Andrew huffed. “You may have heard of Renee Walker, Reynolds’ girlfriend who’s off being a do-gooder right now. For some reason she felt that I needed a bit of faith and gave me the thing. I’d no idea that it’s a ward or whatever.” He moved slowly not only because of his ribs but to keep from spooking Neil. “What a coincidence that it’s kept something from slamming into me, ever since I put it on, hmm? My turn again. You have a poltergeist of your own or what?”

He kept his attention focused on Neil’s too-handsome face and noticed when the figurative walls went up, when those fake brown eyes hardened (was that a faint line of blue at the center?), the slight twitch to the sharp jawline – and how the table jumped a little.

“Not… not a poltergeist,” Neil admitted as if the words were forced out of him and the table thumped again. “But someone who watches over me.”

The admission surprised Andrew, who hadn’t thought that Neil would tell him the truth… but he supposed there wasn’t much else he could do, considering what had happened in the past couple of weeks. “What, you have your own Casper the not-so friendly ghost keeping you company? Who knocks people around when they get too close to you?” That was… that was insane, yet Andrew felt an odd sort of envy at the thought – what would his life had been like if he had something like that watching over him? What difference would it have made with Drake and the others? He felt a surge of bitterness for a couple of seconds before he forced the thought away, well aware that there was no changing the past.

Nei- Josten, dammit, gave a slight shrug as he once more took to staring at the cup of tea held between his hands, which he carefully removed the lid from the cup and set aside but didn’t sip from right away. “Says the man who came to a coffee shop armed with knives.” Josten glanced up again, and that time the darkness in his eyes wasn’t from the ugly contacts. “Your armbands are showing, and something tells me that they’re not a fashion statement, not with all the times I’ve caught you reaching for something on your forearms.” When Andrew went still at being called out like that, a hint of a smile hovered on Josten’s lips. “My choice of protection is just a bit more… unconventional and easier to get past metal detectors.”

So the man was observant, that was… yet another annoying thing to note down. There was also the fact that Josten could easily recognized armbands (and weapons hidden inside them) and needed a damn ghost to look after his ass, which only made him that much more intriguing. “And why would you need a ghost to look after you?”

The sharp smile made its return. “You already asked a question,” Josten reminded him.

“So I did.” Rare anger sparked inside of Andrew at being blocked like that and made him tap his fingers against the table while Josten sipped his black tea. “Well?”

Josten inclined his head a little and set the tea aside, then took to playing with the ends of his sleeves; he tugged them further over his fingers until they were all but hidden. “What do you plan to do now that you know about the poltergeist?”

Andrew clicked his tongue as he regretted not getting a second cup of mocha since it would help with the coldness surrounding the table. “Deal with it somehow.” He couldn’t risk it harming Bee again, or his brother and cousin let alone any of the children who came to Palmetto Services. “It’s too much of a danger.”

“Yes,” Josten agreed as his gaze grew unfocused for a couple of seconds. “As long as Amelia is there, it will lash out at anything it considers a threat to her, which will be most adults.” Then he stared at Andrew once more. “And me? What about me?”

Was someone worried about their own private Casper? “You seem to know an awful lot about this ghost stuff,” Andrew countered as he resisted the urge to tug on the cross which hung around his neck (as he mentally cursed out Renee for choosing such a bad time to go on sabbatical). “Do you know how to get rid of them?”

“And if I do?” Josten hedged, his expression perfectly blank.

What a shame, it seemed that despite their little game of ‘truth for truth’, Josten didn’t have much trust in Andrew. “You help me get rid of thing and keep your little Casper on a tighter leash, and I won’t say anything about your invisible friend.”

“You won’t say anything about me being involved in this or do anything about my ‘invisible friend’,” Josten countered as his eyes narrowed and the table ‘thumped’ again while there was a blast of cold air.

Andrew almost made a comment about Josten obviously being concerned about the kids if he was wasting time bartering like that… but he picked up on the tension in the young man’s shoulders and recalled how he’d been doing something in the room yesterday to fend off the poltergeist until Andrew had disrupted his concentration. Which implied that his concern was keeping Casper around as much as possible, along with the fact that he was involved in ghosts.

The first Andrew didn’t understand (well, other than people might not appreciate knowing that bad shit happened to them because of Josten’s ‘invisible friend’), but he supposed no one wanted to be known as the freak who saw dead people, or whatever. “Fine, it’s a deal,” he agreed.

He wouldn’t say anything… but Renee would be back soon enough, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t need to bring up Casper, not if she knew enough to give him the cross.

Josten regarded him with open suspicion for several seconds before he nodded. “I’m sure you’ll honor your word.” That was just a little amount of sarcasm there.

“Such a lack of trust,” Andrew chided, then clicked his tongue. “You’re the one who has Casper there try to shove a person’s ribs through their spine if they get to close yet I’m untrustworthy?”

“I told you that I was fine and you didn’t listen to me,” Josten argued. “But all right, let’s shake on it, okay?” he offered as he held out his right hand after he tugged his sleeve back enough to expose his fingers.

Andrew wasn’t big on touching people, but if it helped to speed things along…. He held out his hand and swore he felt some sort of tingle, almost like a pleasant pulse of warmth, when their skin touched; Josten’s fingers twitched against his and those false brown eyes grew vacant once again, the pupils shrunk to pinpoints (it was a ring of pale blue) before he drew in a deep, shuddering breath and pulled his hand free.

“All good now?” Andrew asked in English as Josten hastily tugged the sleeve back over his fingers.

“Yes.” The British accent was back in Josten’s voice as he wrapped his arms around his chest, as the cold grew stronger for a moment. “I think that’s enough for today.” The American accent slowly crept back into his voice, which made Andrew wonder which one was real since they both sounded authentic.

“Wait.” Andrew stood up but didn’t reach for Josten, mindful of what had happened the last time he’d done such a thing (even if he wore the cross). “What about the poltergeist?”

“I need to prepare a few things, it’s going to take a little time,” Josten said as he pushed away from the table without touching anything. He gave Andrew a curt nod as he grabbed his coat before he turned away, the cold leaving with him.

Andrew watched as some woman busy talking on her phone got pushed out of his way toward the door, which appeared to open right before he touched it, and couldn’t help but wonder just why one Neil Josten had such an attentive and over-protective ghost watching over him. Was it a deceased family member? The thought made him scoff, but perhaps. Or a childhood friend? A lover, perhaps? Josten certainly was attractive as hell, and Casper intent on keeping everyone away from the young man.

That possibility made Andrew frown as he stood in line for another mocha to help warm him up on his way home; was Josten haunted by a possessive, abusive lover? There’d been the swollen cheek that day and the scratch the previous week, not to mention how Josten kept to himself except for talking to Moreau.

Renee really needed to get her ass back to Columbia soon.

*******

#nekojitachan fic #ghost in you fic #andrew minyard #neil josten #neil sees ghosts #andrew's already falling

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residentanchor · 7 years ago

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The Unseen Roommate

Note: I never really end some of my warm-ups so this one just kind of kept going until I felt like it was enough. A quick shoutout to azlinne for giving me the idea a while back!

Roman wasn't too sure about their new roommate. Sure, Patton said they all needed to give him a fair chance since none of them had much interaction with him, but it all felt off. No person spent that much time alone in their room alone, closed off and silent other than a few banging noises and creaking sounds in the middle of the night. Talking to Logan was also completely helpless. Although he was the only one to have talked to the stranger, he didn't care about getting to know the man as long as he paid his share of the rent on time. So what if he was shy and a bit reclusive? All was well in their little abode.

Roman wasn't going to simply let it go. Patton was okay with knocking and checking on this 'Virgil' but Roman wasn't content with shouts through a wall. I mean, he didn't even have the audacity to open up and talk to them, how utterly rude! He snuck into the apartment in the middle of the night without a word or any sort of greeting. A few times, Roman would knock and invite the stranger out to eat, which would either go unanswered or just be declined. Roman started getting upset as he would huff and stomp away from the door. One day, he knocked and threw an insult, only to have one tossed back his way.

It became a new thing for the two of them. Roman would no longer invite 'Virgil' out anymore but would knock and throw a joke or two and make small talk before going about his day as if nothing happened. He started only knocking at nights where he would always get an answer, and sometimes Patton would even join if he wasn't so tired. Logan would make a comment as he walked by and everyone got used to their strange interactions with their roommate.

Tonight, Roman leaned back against the door, deep into a discussion about the latest movie he just went and saw, explaining it in full since Virgil said he never really liked seeing movies in theaters. Too many people, too loud, the seats usually weren't that comfortable and the rooms usually smelled of old soda and stale popcorn.

"I can't wait for it to come out on DVD or something, sounds interesting," Virgil called from the other side of his door.

"Oh yes! I am so getting it when it does! We can set up space in the living room to watch it together! Or, in your room. If you want, that is, no pressure!" Roman sat, listening closely through the door. He always did this, even when he didn't mean to. He would have a slip of the tongue and mention them hanging out together and not through a door, but Roman was always shot down. He never tried it often, but every once in a while he just couldn't help himself.

"I dunno, Roman."

"No, sorry!" Roman turned and placed a hand on the door. "It was a slip-up, think nothing of it!" He waited, hoping to hear anything from the other side of the door. "Please, let's just forget I ever said anything. I was enjoying just talking to you."

"Don't get all mushy on me now." Roman could hear the laughter at the edge of Virgil's tone and he sighed happily. "You'll start sounding like a rom-com."

"Don't talk to me about that. You don't listen to any music after 2008!"

He heard Virgil chuckle through the door. "Amy Lee sings like an angel and I will fight you on that!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

Patton walked up, smiling at Roman who sat against the door with a pillow at his back, laughing at whatever Virgil had just said. "Dinner time." He shifted the plate he held in his hands. "Go wash up and eat, Roman." Roman huffed but got up, knocking and saying goodbye to Virgil as he did. "I brought you a plate, Virgil!" Patton placed the food right outside his door as he did every night. It was always gone in the morning despite how many times Virgil had promised Patton he could get food himself and didn't need Patton cooking for him. "I'll talk to you later."

"Thanks, Pat." Patton smiled and gave Virgil's door a quick knock himself. A little habit they started to show they were walking up or away from his door to talk just to get his attention. Virgil heard Patton's footsteps walk away before letting out a heavy sigh.

---

It was late at night a few days later when Roman suddenly got up, stomach growling at him before. He hoped a small snack before bed would have been enough instead of eating a full meal but his stomach seemed to disagree. Deciding a second snack was necessary to hold him over until the morning, Roman got up from his bed and rubbed his eyes before dragging his feet across his carpeted floor.

He was already in the kitchen before his tired brain registered someone else in there with him. He stopped and blinked, seeing the back of a person he didn't recognize slowly turn around and stare back at him. Roman blinked a few more times and suddenly found himself alone in the kitchen. Confused, he rubbed his eyes once more and looked around, confirming he was completely alone in the room.

"Great," he mumbled to himself. "Hey, if you're a ghost you can live here but you better pay rent like the rest of us." Roman walked further into the kitchen, heading straight for the cupboard.

He had opened the door and pulled out a box before he heard a chuckle behind him, surprising him and causing him to jump. He spun around and dropped the box, coming face to face with the stranger once more. "Well, princey. I do pay rent so I hope you're okay with that."

"What?" Roman blinked, looking at the man in front of him a bit closer. He was dressed in baggy clothes and skinny jeans that seemed ripped on purpose, hair hanging partially in his face. "You look like an emo nightm-," Roman froze midsentence, replaying his words in his head. "V-virgil?"

The man gave a two-fingered salute. "Yo."

Roman blinked and then smiled, taking half a step closer. "You actually came out of your room! Nice to finally meet you face to face."

"Sort of." Virgil shrugged, looking back down at the box Roman had dropped.

"Sort of?" Roman asked. "What do you mean by that?"

Virgil held a hand out and the box suddenly flew up into his hand. "Granola bars, hm? You know, midnight snacks are supposed to be junk food you can eat while no one is around to judge you, right?"

Roman stared at his roommate speechless, looking at the box and back at Virgil, gaping like a fish out of water. "What, you, how-huh?"

Virgil fell back slowly before stopping midair, crossing his leg over the other and posing as if he were sitting back in a comfy chair. "Well, you said it was okay for me to be a ghost as long as I was paying rent."

"You're a ghost?" Roman reached back and grabbed the counter, using it to hold himself up. "H-how...?"

Virgil rolled his eyes and reached out for the box, pulling out a granola bar and tossing it over to Roman. "I died. It's kind of the most important step to becoming a ghost."

Roman didn't catch the granola bar, though he did flounder after it before it fell to the ground. He reached up and picked it off of the floor, staring down at the wrapper before glancing back up. "Where do you have money to pay rent?"

Virgil shrugged and tossed the box casually onto the counter. "Parents left me with a lot of money. I don't think anyone has found me yet, so no one froze my bank account. I've been using it to pay rent here. I mean, yeah, I could haunt you guys but this just seems easier."

"How did you-," Virgil shot Roman an intense glare and he held up his hands defensively. "Sorry, won't ask how you died, I get it. So, w-what about the food Patton leaves out for you?"

"I toss it out. Or go to that dumpster just a few blocks over really late and leave it for the homeless guy in the alley. I just bring the plate back." Virgil placed his hands behind his head. "I had to make you think I at least ate and eventually came out of my room or I wouldn't exactly pass as human."

Roman shook his head and looked over at his floating roommate. "So you're just a random ghost who pays rent and haunts a bedroom?"

Virgil suddenly froze, locking up and sitting up straighter in the air. "Well, sort of. I mean." He leaned forward and stood back on the ground, folding his arms and rubbing them as if he were cold. "I could just be a freeloading ghost, but this way is just nicer for everyone, right?"

Roman blinked at Virgil and suddenly felt a sense of ease wash over him. This was the Virgil he had been talking to for all this time. The one he'd made friends with through a door. Just the thought caused him to smile before he covered his mouth, letting out a soft chuckle. "Oh, oh my. Never have I thought I'd meet a ghost who paid rent to live with humans because he was lonely!"

"Hey!" Virgil would have blushed if he were living, Roman was sure of it.

"Speaking of," Roman took a step closer and squinted through the dark. "I thought you could see through ghosts?"

Virgil ducked his head back a bit. "You can. I spend all my time incorporeal, so I decided when you accidentally saw me, I would at least take the energy of looking tangible."

Roman nodded and smiled. "You do care!" His smile dropped a bit and he placed a hand on his chin. "What were you even doing out here?"

"Returning Patton's plate from dinner." Virgil smiled and turned towards the sink. "I was outed by dishware. You normally aren't up this late."

"Oh my gosh, I can't wait to tell the others in the morning!" Roman jumped in excitement. "Patton's going to be so happy to see you! Oh, and Logan's going to flip, it's going to be great!"

Virgil shuffled a bit before looking up at Roman. "You think they'll like me?"

Roman scoffed and smiled over at the ghostly roommate. "You're a friendly ghost, like an emo Casper! If anything it just adds to the aesthetic you have!"

Virgil snorted a laugh and shook his head. "Yeah, I guess. If you think they won't be too freaked out..."

"Patton will be upset he can't cook for you and Logan will probably be more concerned about that bank account of yours that's somehow paying us rent more than it's a ghost doing it." Roman rolled his eyes and unwrapped his granola bar. "What kind of ghost pays rent instead of haunting anyway?"

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sander sides #short story #warmup fic #ghost virgil #curious roman

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ofhowls · 7 years ago

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The establishment is close to empty ; most people’s lunch hours now being over and done with, leaving the boy alone in a previously crowded grill with one last customer. They’re understaffed today, though they always appeared to be, a fact that forces Nate out on the floor to pick up dishes and napkins left behind. He doesn’t bother her, mostly because – why would he? The boy wouldn’t want to be bothered during his own lunch, let alone by a complete stranger. So he leaves her be, focusing entirely on going back and forth between tables and the kitchen. It is not until he’s at his second to last table that this changes. The door, leading to the kitchen where his actual workspace awaited, swung open : going back and forth violently until eventually slowing down and stopping completely. He throws a glance the blonde’s way, who inevitably noticed the odd happenings just as he did. “ Don’t worry about it. ” He begins, approaching with plates in hand. “ Wouldn’t be Sheffield without Casper the not-so-friendly ghost stopping by, would it. ” / @truthindreams

#dont ask me what this is bc i never know !#anyways hello throwing nate at u bc hes smelly #with kit / nh.#truthindreams #all posts / nh.

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proxylynn · 3 years ago

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This is how Lynn met Jack. I'm not sure if I'll make a full fic or just make more dabbles like before. I hope you at least find this interesting. ^_^

How? How did it come to this? I beat the odds and had it all. I got out of the trailer park. I got rid of my toxic family drama. I got into college and graduated. I moved in with my high school sweetheart. We were doing amazing. His career in acting was starting to take off and I was able to begin working on a career in voice acting. Things were coming up all sunshine and rainbows. But now...?

*ding*

"Stop eight. Those getting off, watch your step. I'll be back around in an hour."

"Thank you."

I hop off the bus and carefully rush across the busy 4-way intersection when it's at its slowest to reach the shopping plaza. Chain store after chain store, places I want to enter but either can't afford to or would distract me too long and I'd miss the bus. Maybe next month, GameStop. Same to you, Books A Million, even if it's just to read and not buy anything. Goodbye, Anytime Fitness, I can afford your monthly membership no longer. No, my goal for this trip rests at the end...the thrift shop. I need new clothes.

*bing-bong*

It all happened so quickly. One night...one horrible night...and all that was good in my life was taken. Gone was my love. Gone was the ability to focus on my work. Gone was a steady income. Gone was the happiness. All that remains now is this shamble of a new life. A small empty apartment to myself, a food service job that pays enough to cover all the bills but tips are what I feed off of, and gone is any drive to bother with things I liked to do in my free time. Hell, if it weren't for basic functions and needs, I'd never leave my bed. And even then, it's hard to find reasons to just get up.

My name is Lynsie, or Lynn for short. A 5'7" thicc pale white chick with brown hair that reaches my butt in length and the tired face from years of insomnia, dressed in a stretched-out gray shirt with blue jeans plus old violet sneakers that I've had for years. I'm your typical misfit adult that hates life but tries to find the good in it because there's enough depressing shit in the world without me needing to add to it or dwell on it. Got too much on my mental plate as is. I work at Popov's Big Top Yogurt-Topia selling frozen yogurt like it's Baskin-Robbins ice cream for minimum wage. You know...Living the dream. Heh...heh...Fuck my life.

I have about $25 I've allotted myself to use and still have decent food money for the month. I shouldn't take too much time doing this. That should be enough for like three pairs of shirts, pants, and made shoes with change left over if I play my cards right. Growing up poor, you learn how to pinch every penny and stretch every dollar to get by. I guess I can be thankful for picking up that skill.

At most...This little mission takes close to forty minutes. Leaving me time to look around the places a grown single woman isn't usually found...the toys, books, and video section. You never know what crackpot thing you'll find in these parts that you swore was a deranged fever dream you made up as a kid. Like this VHS my mom had that nobody thought was real once they heard the name...Pinocchio in Outer Space. But it's real, it's crazy, it triggers childhood memories for me, and the whole movie is up on YouTube. I don't know if I'll be lucky and find a copy here, but it never hurts to look just in case.

Toys are a hit or miss, mostly incomplete or shambled messes of their former selves, as well as mainly toddler stuff. The books just aren't grabbing me. You know it's bad when there's ten copies of 50 Shades of Grey stuffing the shelves. God what awful books. The DVDs and VHS tapes however...There's some goodies in here. There are some early Disney movies, they have Don Bluth movies, WB films, Nickelodeon movies, black & white classics, and of course...the TV show tapes.

"Hmmm...Ah, Casper the Friendly Ghost. I'd take you home, but I can't forgive you for the Ferdie the Fox episode. I didn't need to see that at that age. Power Rangers Ninja Storm? Bit of a newer show to be here. Any episodes with Vexacus? ...No? Too bad, so sad. That bad boy was the only reason I watched. So worth the action figure. Oh? A Muppet Christmas? Is this the one where...Dang it! I can never find A Muppet Family Christmas. ...Wait... Is that... *gasp* Nostalgic gold! Family Dog! I could never remember your name and my mom thought I was nuts, but here you are! I wonder if the series got put on DVD? I'll need to look that up later. Ooooh! Worth it! So worth it!"

I can't help but twirl in delight that others might think is drug-induced. I found one of those rare fever dreams that I could never explain right to find. But here, among the donated and abandoned clutter, I find a personal treasure that holds no value except to my soul. This is going up as a win right next to my God, the Devil, and Bob DVD collection and the Clerks: the Animated series set.

*clack*

Randomly a tape tips off the shelf and hits the second row, almost hitting the floor if I hadn't had dove to save it. My sigh of relief is loud. Yet another weird sight for passersby.

"Well, that was close. Silly tape, you show adventures not live them out. You're far too fragile."

I look to put it back where it fell but suddenly...I can't bring myself to do it. A rather odd compelling feeling turns to curiosity so my attention goes to the hunk of plastic in my hands. The cover is plain, like the kind you'd get buying blank tapes. The tape itself is bog-standard, but something about the cobbled-together colorful title of "SunnyTime Crew" and the hastily scribbled on sharpie of "'84 – INCIDENT" has me thinking this isn't just a normal collection of episodes tape. This...This might be raw unedited never meant to see the light of day footage. I check for a price tag...It's marked at 26¢. My god...They have no idea what they have.

*beep-beep*

My phone alarm sounds, marking the five or so minutes I have left to get back to the bus stop. I clutch my items and bolt for the register. Praying that the old man buying the outlandish pimp fur coat with the missing tag will hurry up and not pay with a check or miscellaneous change! Thankfully, some lord on high gifts me mercy, I'm able to make my purchases and bolt for the bus stop just as the bus shows up down the road. I feel so good getting on the bus. Not only did I get my intended needs under budget, not only did I find childhood memories, but I found something special. There's no copy. This is a one-and-done master tape. And I'm going to be the first to see it since it got shot in...wait...'84? Like 1984? Huh...I should look this up. It's only three years older than me, there should be info online about it.

[One return bus ride home later]

I walk into my apartment, plop my bag of goodies down on the coffee table, and scowl at my phone.

Nothing.

There's nothing substantial I can find. And I pride myself on hunting down information. And all I can dig up is a defunct local newspaper article published in El Paso, TX. "Date Published: 10/5/1982 Title: Local studio makes WAVES with new children's television program." But the article on the site is blacked out. This little tape made one heck of a long trip, it's not in Texas anymore. Wait...So...Did it originally air in 1982? Maybe it was scooped up for national broadcast in '84 but this "incident" caused it to be shut down.

I pull the tape out and get this weird feeling about it. Putting it into my old 13inch TV/VCR combo, I head for the kitchen and grab some snacks to enjoy while taking this all in. Milk and cookies seem like a good comfort thing to have to offset the weird feelings.

*♪spooky scary skeletons♪*

My thoughts are broken by a sudden call from my buddy Shaun.

"Hi-Diddly-Ho, Neighborino!"

A snicker greets my ear.

"Okay, Ned Flanders, put Lynn on."

"Yo, what up, Shaun?"

"That's more like it. How are you doing, girl? It's been a while since our last chat."

"Ah, well, you know. I'm getting by. Just got back home from thrift shopping."

"Find anything good?"

"Got some decent shirts, some jeans, sneakers, and a couple of VHS tapes of old kid shows"

"Heh...Never grow up, Lynn."

"Never!"

I dunk some cookies in my milk.

"So how are things on your end? It feels like ages since I moved and even longer since we caught up...under better circumstances at least."

"True...Oh! Production is looking to grab a studio in your area. So...You weren't exactly wrong calling me a neighbor."

Shaun's always been an avid horror film nut. Back when we were roomies in college, we'd make our own scripts and movies. Heck, he even got his degree in films. We hit it off and have been besties ever since.

"Really? Are your folks okay with you moving out so far? Think, Shaun, who will take over the family funeral home?!"

I joke, I know his parents support him. I'm just jealous his family runs such a cool place like that. Cofer's Coffins - Crematorium and Funeral Home...God damn, that's so fucking cool!

"Ha ha. Very funny. But yeah, we'll be setting up shop near there so...I'm kinda looking for places. Know any cheap spots?"

"Not off the top of my head, no. But I can hook you up with the scout I used."

"They good?"

"Bruh, they hooked me with a place I can pay for by shucking frozen yogurt. They good."

"Damn! Get me their digits, girl."

"I’ll text it to you after the call. I gotta find the number."

"Nice..."

"You okay?"

I sip my milk.

"Um...Till I find a place...Would it be cool if I room with you?"

I nearly choke in a coughing fit.

"Easy! Sorry! I didn't mean right away. We won't be out there for a month."

"Jesus...You nearly gave me a heart attack. *coughs* Um...Yeah. I can stash ya here. Hope the couch is okay? It's super comfy."

"How them cushions though?"

"Dummy thicc."

"Deal!"

We are big freaking dorks.

"Cool. Guess I'll see ya in a month."

"Yep. It'll be great. Just like old times...*pulls away* Hey, I gotta bounce."

"Okily dokily, future neighborino."

"Lynn, no, stop."

"You know you love it."

He hangs up and I snicker.

"I claim this victory in the name of cringe! Nyeh heh heh!"

With that out of the way, I bring my snacks back into the living room and plop onto the couch. Maybe...I try one more search site to see if there's literally anything about this show. And...I find the smallest of crumbs on the Lost Media website. Kids in El Paso, TX. that grew up with this seemed to have tried making a page for this obscure '80s children's TV show. The names/amount of episodes list is blank. There's a crude drawing of the logo that's kinda close to what's on the tape. But, and this is a big freaking but, there are character names. At least four slightly better-looking drawings for pictures. Mr. Drizzle. Cloudy lady. Rainbow boy. And Sunny Jack. ...I get the feeling these names are wrong. Yet that's it. I mean, that's more than I figured I'd get at this point but the character names are interesting. Definitely has the friendly kids show vibe. Might be like a local version of Sesame Street. Could still be entertaining.

I don't have much to do other than some small chores, so I am not going to be distracted as I absorbed every nanosecond of this tape. I grab my obnoxiously massive universal remote and hit the play button.

There's about ten or so seconds of blank nothing before a glitchy timestamp appears that I can't make out and a sound hits me. A familiar song but played on what I think is a music box..."You Are My Sunshine". Yet something is off. The notes are played slowly, slightly eerily, and it weirdly skips to then start over before playing the full song as it should've. As it plays the song, sets for a magical world are shown as if walking the viewer through it all. Vaguely my mind jokes that this is how Creepypastas start and the idea of Slenderman or Laughing Jack coming out of the TV all RING style put me in a giggly mood. Then there's this blip, the music and images now sound more normal. It's giving me Mister Rogers' Neighborhood vibes. I miss that man. Rest in peace, Mister Rogers.

[Near an hour later]

For a raw uncut hour-long show shot in front of a live kid audience, which honestly all the kiddy chatter is fucking annoying as background noise, the show itself ain't bad. The actors are really committed to their roles, the characters are endearing, the lessons are really relatable, the colors and sets are engaging. Hell, I might write a fic or doodle pics. I can so see this show going nationwide. It would be a hit on PBS. Why was this labeled "'84 – INCIDENT" again? ...Wait...What is...?

*scream*

*muffled bang*

The picture is gone before anything is shown and static takes over. It's not normal static either. It's like the kind you hear when a radio is struggling to bring you sound.

"Oh no...No! No, no, no, no...Don't tell me they cut the feed there. It can't end like that!"

Maybe the fall, as short as it was, messed up this old tape. Or worse, someone wasn't careful and had the tape near a magnet. That would so be my luck. Get all hyped up and then be hit with a cliffhanger.

"Don't be sad..."

A voice comes through faintly.

"This isn't the end."

That...That couldn't have happened, right? There's no way that was a real response. This calls for a test.

"Rubber baby..."

I raise the volume just in case.

"Buggy bumpers? Oh! Are we playing a game? I like games."

Oh shit...It's not only responding to me, but it's responding in real-time. Crap, it's haunted. Shaun would love this!

"You're a quiet one, aren't you? But I understand. I don't think we've met before and you know better than to talk to strangers. Very smart."

What if this is a demon? Learning its name grants me power over it if I remember my demonology right.

"I know! Let's introduce each other. Then we won't be strangers anymore."

IT. That is literally how IT opens and kills Georgie. Should I even be listening still? I should eject it.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry. It's been so long since I've spoken with anyone. I'm so lonely."

Can...Can it read my thoughts?

"You look upset. Did I scare you?"

It can see me?! But there's just static!

"I know this must be scary. I know if a voice that shouldn't be there suddenly was talking to me, well, I might just hop on out of my shoes and never stop running. Shame though. I really like my shoes."

Well...Whatever this is, it doesn't sound malevolent. Kinda sounds cute in a funny way.

"Please...Will you talk to me? I promise, I mean you no harm. After all, you saved me. I owe you my life."

Saved it? Does it mean when the tape fell? Interesting...Very interesting.

"Okay."

It gasps in excitement.

"You will?! Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Oh...It's been ages since I've gotten to talk. I can barely control myself from just drowning you in an endless stream of mindless words. Where do I even begin?"

"Your name?"

I try to gently remind it of that.

"Ah! That's right. Got all excited, I nearly forgot about that. Names are great. Everybody has a name. Mine's Jack. Sunny Day Jack. What's yours?"

So...The character from the show? That's...odd. Maybe? I dunno. Everything is confusing. Best be safe.

"Lynn."

It goes quiet for a bit.

"Hmmm...I don't know, Lynn. Are you sure that's correct? That seems more like a nickname to me."

"And your name is real?"

The thought escaped me without warning. I didn't mean to speak it.

"I know it might sound silly. But that is my name. I'm being 100% honest with you. Why would I lie?"

"*sigh* I dunno. Why do people do anything? Why do bad things happen to good people? The universe is random and makes no sense like that."

Got a bit deep there. Weird. I don't know why.

"...Sounds like you're one of those good people. It sounds like you've had it rough and could use a friend to help lift your spirits back up."

"I dunno...Maybe? I don't want to be a burden to anyone."

It scoffs.

"You? A burden? Nonsense. I don't believe it. And I won't hear otherwise. No one slanders Jack's buddy! Not even Jack's buddy."

That's actually kind of sweet in a dorky way.

"But friendship is a bond made in trust, Lynn. I'm willing to trust you completely. ...Are you willing to trust me?"

With all my years of scary movies and supernatural studying, my instincts are screaming no...But I do.

"Lynsie. My name is Lynsie. Lynn is just a nickname most call me because they either forget my real name or find it easier."

A strange reverberation comes from the speaker.

"It's nice to meet you, Lynsie~! It's always nice to make a new friend."

"Heh...I suppose it does. Depends on the person though."

"I can tell we're going to get along so well. You'll see."

I'll see?

"What do you mean by that, Jack?"

There's a slight hum in my ears.

"Let's be friends forever, okay?"

"Jack?"

The screen blackens as the TV shuts off, the darkness zeroing into a tiny ball of white in the center.

"*roars*"

Sudden abrupt pain shoots through my head. It’s so jarring that it sends orders to my body to flee, yet the signal is broken, so all I manage to do is get up and stumble before falling. Smacking my head on something in the dizzying madness then hitting the floor with a sickening thud, my eyes flutter in a struggle to retain consciousness. Vaguely, I think I feel something touch me. Like a hand softly pressed to my chest.

"...It's so cold."

I pass out quickly soon after.

[. . . . . .]

I feel warm. Like...A snuggly comfortable warm. A safe kind of feeling. It's really nice. I nuzzle into it, wanting more. Yearning for something I once had. It reminds me of him. I miss you my heart, my Ian.

…

This safety feeling however ends when I stir a bit and recognized the feeling of a hand rubbing my back...and I live alone.

I force my eyes to open and wince at this sudden brightness that assaults my vision.

"Easy now..."

A man's voice, like velvet, hits me.

"You had quite the tumble. You shouldn't move too sharply."

I remember falling and blacking out, so I follow this advice. Moving slowly to find myself sitting in this man's lap as he sits on the floor and I'm nestled up to his chest. So...This is very awkward. I want to freak out, but I also don't want to freak this random dude out and get my stupid ass killed.

"Does your head hurt?"

He asks with such concern I have to look at him and now I get a load of this man. He's so...bright...and a clown?!

This, honestly very fit ...very toned...hunk of a man, wow, has sky blue hair and is dressed in primary colors. Red face paint colors his nose and chin, with a pattern of a circle then two lines on going from under his soft dark eyes down his cheeks. A blue vest styled jacket with a sun left side and the collar has primary color lines that trail onto the shoulder line. His arguably super tight on him white shirt has red bordering each cuff/hem/collar plus red and yellow slanted stripes going from the right shoulder down to his left hip. I'm not about to look down, not while like this. But I do notice the yellow gloves he's wearing when he reaches for something on the coffee table and hands me my milk cup before giving me a pill bottle.

"I hope you're not too mad about me going through your things for these. But after such a fall I figured you'd be at the very least sore."

The bottle is my pain meds.

"You aren't mad at me, are you, Lynsie?"

How does he know my name? Wait, of course he knows, he snooped around. He probably saw my ID.

"Why are you looking at me funny? Is there something on my face?"

A sharp throbbing in my head has me wince but then...a flash. I remember something...why are those pictures coming to mind? ...No...No it can't be. I stare at his face and my eyes widen as things connect.

"...Jack?"

His face lights up with a smile.

"You remembered me?!"

"Kinda? I just remember a picture I saw and you look like it."

"Oh."

I feel bad for deflating him like that.

"Um...Not to make things odder, but...You can't be here. You shouldn't be here. So how are you...?"

"How am I here?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Simple. You brought me home."

He scoops me up just enough to move me off of him so he's allowed to kneel near me. Now it's okay to notice the rest of him. The form-hugging beige pants, the red-lined pockets with the same stripes his shirt has that lead to the very clowny yet regular sized shoes topped by odd legwarmers, said legwarmers reach halfway up his calves with these three puffy rings of primary colors that snuggly cover his red shoes with yellow laces and sun decal clip. The wonkiest looking thing about him is his belt, the same three primary color scheme for the band, but the buckle has a yellow clown nose and big red-lipped smiling mouth. Why? Why does it look like it will talk at any second?

"You're staring again, Lynsie."

Caught in the act of being a weirdo analyzing this man like he's one of those magic picture posters I shamefully sink inward and look at the floor.

"Sorry."

"No no, it's okay."

I look meekly up.

"It is?"

"Of course! I'm still a stranger to you. We've just met and only know our names."

"Yeah, about that...How do you know my name?"

"Well that's no mystery. You told me."

I just look at him funny and he sighs.

"That tumble is going to be a bigger pain than I thought. But no worries. I remember everything and as your new friend, I'm more than happy to explain anything and everything."

What the fuck happened before I woke up?

My head is pounding so I do get a few pills out and take them real quick, sipping my cookie-laden milk slowly. I get an odd sense and find myself grabbing at the rest of the cookies, offering them to him.

"For me?"

I nod and he smiles.

"That's so kind of you. But I can't."

"...You don't like Oreos?"

He snorts a laugh and covers his mouth to stifle the sound. Okay...rude. Confusing...but rude.

"Sorry, sorry. *snicker* I don't mean to be rude. I would but I just can't eat them. Or anything really."

My confusion grows and he rubs the back of his head.

"Well...um...Promise not to freak out?"

Says the man that I have no memory of that's in my home and knows my name. Sure! Why not?!

"Okay.?"

He takes a deep calming breath.

"Alright...I...I'm...Boy howdy, this is hard. *soft huff* I...I'm not the same as you."

I feel even more confused like he's trying to dumb down rocket science to me.

"Okay...uh...Maybe it'll be easier with a visual example. Do you have a mirror?"

"Like a hand one? No."

He puts a hand up to his chin in thought, his eyes scanning the room for a while. Then...I can see the idea click for him.

"Oh! I know! Look at your TV. Tell me what you see."

Puzzled by what this will prove, I turn to look at my bigger TV. The dead screen reflects the room perfectly. I can see the curtains on the window. I can see the front door. I can see myself between the coffee table and couch. I can see...I can...

I can't see him.

He picks this realization up.

"Well? Did it help?"

I just stare at him.

"What are you?"

He offers his hand to me.

"I'll explain everything that I can. So long as you trust me. You do trust me...Don't you, Lynsie?"

I'm not gonna say yes. I know nothing and I don't make judgment calls based on nothing. But my curiosity is intrigued, no doubt there. I take his hand and he pulls me up.

"Trust is a strong word. And I don't give it out so easily."

"Fair enough. We'll just take things one step at a time. After all, friendship needs tending to like a flower. It needs to be nurtured and cared for so it can blossom and thank the sun for helping it grow."

I shake my head and slowly sip from my cup. He's really something else. But it's a strangely comfortable oddness. Maybe this won't be too crazy.

[. . . .]

After a very long series of talks, some things have been made clear while others are still very murky.

When it comes to the tape, I remember nothing that was on it. After blacking out, I can't recall anything at all in the time frame of when I hit play to when I woke up. Even stranger, the tape doesn't seem to work anymore. But since viewing it, Jack is here and from what I've managed to understand, he's connected to the tape.

However, despite how he's willingly offering to answer any questions I have, his knowledge begins and ends with the happenings of CloudyTown. This also means he has no clue of current things, so I do what I can to acclimate him slowly to modern life. Explaining the internet is like reading the dictionary to a newborn puppy.

This isn't as easy as I've come to learn. Only I can see him. Whether at home, work, or a store, everywhere I go not a single other person has been able to notice the 6'2" clown following me around. I'm also the only one who can touch him and everyone else seems to conveniently exist around him. Probably makes me look crazy talking to him in public, but fuck that, I don't care what others think. Never have. If I did, I wouldn't have been labeled a freak in school. People fucking suck sometimes.

Though that little fact at least helped cement the whole "He's not just a crazy man that managed to break in and started living with me" idea. But it doesn’t help my other thoughts. The "Maybe the loneliness and depression have finally made me crazy" thoughts.

He doesn't show up in mirrors, reflective surfaces, all that kinda jazz. It's almost like he's an imaginary friend but somewhat more real yet invisible. So...Maybe he's a ghost? Or specter of some kind? A poltergeist perhaps? I need to look up my book of spirits again, it's been too long. He can touch objects, hell, he's cleaned things while I was sleeping. Explaining that he can only do things so long as I want him to. Kinda odd having a grown man ask me if it's okay to do stuff for me, not that I mind. He's very helpful like that. Yet unlike most ghost info, he isn't cold or makes rooms cold. Quite the opposite really. He's so warm. And like the sun he's named after, he brightens the room he's in. If I'm doing something and he wanders off for some reason or another, that's when it feels cold. This chill makes it awkward when I sleep. I want his warmth, but he's still this guy I barely know. It would be weird to ask him to share a bed solely so I could use him for warmth.

Still...Whatever he is, I can't say him haunting me is a bad thing. He's much like a camp counselor, pushing you out of your comfort zones to "show", "teach", and "help" you. He's enthusiastic, very mature, charismatic, kind, and gentle. Usually, someone so chipper would bug the hell out of me but not him, something about the way he does it makes me feel all fuzzy inside. It's...It's nice having someone like him around. Someone that cares. I've missed that. Someone being there. Maybe...Maybe I could get used to this. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

#Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #somethings wrong with sunny day jack #Sunny Day jack

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myfriendscallmekazzy · 7 years ago

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11, 18, 25 & 57 🤓

11: Do you ever count your steps when you walk? Yes every day! I have a fitbit that i use for swimming and stuff. My fave thing is that it tells me how well I slept 😀18: What is your Song of the week? I heard Mirrors by JT on the radio last week and it brought back to me all the feelings. 25: What is your favorite food?God, just one? Umm. Oh I'm a huge fan of bao just give me a big plate of them in with all different fillings and I am g2g57: Do you believe in ghosts?No, but I DO believe in the ghost busters. Also if ghosts were real I think there would be loads, and most of them would be friendly. I refuse to believe casper is the only friendly ghost.

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austennerdita2533 · 8 years ago

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#95!!!

95 + JavaJunkies “You’re cute when you’re all worried.”

This gave me an opportunity to write some ridiculous Lorelai dialogue, so thanks lovely! xx

“Luke, I think we have a ghost in the house.” He finished towel-drying a dish, then set it on the counter. “And not one of those cute, friendly, can I keep you ghosts named Casper who makes friends with the introverted neighborhood kids but the shadowy, slamming-doors-and-levitating-cereal-boxes-while-we-sleep kind who leaves a trail of crumbs and a mountain of empty boxes, then laughs wickedly in our faces in a choir of Jekyll, Hyde, Ursula, and Voldermort!”

“Huh. Dream about running out of Poptarts again?”

“Yes.”

As Lorelai sagged into a chair and curled her arms around her head on the kitchen table, groaning at the early hour, Luke poured her a mug of freshly brewed coffee.

“Mmm, I smell sugar!” she half-yawned, half-sang.

“No, you smell added sugar,” Luke clarified, clunking down a plate. “I bought five boxes of this garbage at Doose’s yesterday.”

Her head springing up, Lorelai smiled and grabbed three. Making a strawberry-cinnamon Poptart sandwich, she bit into it, patted his hand and said, “You’re so cute when you’re worried about my eating habits, babe.”

#lucaslaescuela #gilmore girls drabbles #javajunkies #luke and lorelai #otp: mr and mrs backwards baseball cap #otp: he built her a chuppah #otp: will you just stand still #ashlee bree's writing endeavors

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buyherepayhereusa · 8 years ago

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What Should I Name My Car? List of the Best Car Names

Why do we feel the need to name our cars? Is it because they have distinct human visages?

With headlights that leer and a grill that seems ready to snap or laugh, it’s hard not to see faces and personalities in cars and automobiles. In fact, the personality expressed in a vehicle’s “face” is often a huge reason why we choose to purchase one car over another.

Car designers know this too, which is why you see meaner, more aggressive faces in trucks and sports cars, and milder, more friendly faces in SUVs and family vehicles. Anyone who has seen the Cars movies knows that not only do the faces match the cars’ personalities (think of Lighting McQueen and Mater), but their names do as well.

Source: Roderick Eime (Flickr)

Cars really do resemble people. Our brains cannot help but anthropomorphize them. It’s a psychological phenomenon called pareidolia. So why shouldn’t they be given names?

Besides, it’s your chance to go crazy with names that you might not otherwise use for your children or pets.

So, What Should I Name My Car?

“Box with Wheels” and “Mr. Car” won’t work. Sure, you can call it that, but you’re probably looking for something a bit more creative. Since naming your car is a big decision that you’ll live with for a long time, don’t rush it.

Here are a few things to keep in mind when naming your car:

1. Consider the Car’s Personality (Make and Model)

What does your car look like? This is the biggest factor to take into consideration. Does it look like a boy or a girl? Old or young?

Is it a sports car, a large car, a classic car, or a new car? Think of any distinctive character traits that it has. Does it make a lot of noise or barely none at all? Is it large or small? No matter what make or model you have, you can find something that will help you in the naming process. In fact, that’s how the Volkswagen “Beetle” got its name. The car was originally just called Volkswagen, but the obvious resemblance to a beetle or bug gave it its lasting nickname.

If you are a person who likes rhymes and puns, you can use the make/model as inspiration for a fun and quirky name for your car:

Rhonda the Honda

Jack the Cadillac

But be weary of names that get old quick. Try to stick with ones that aren’t so obvious:

Vlad (Chevy Impala)

Lux (Fiat)

Stacy (Chevy Malibu)

Frank (Hyundai Sonata)

2. Consider Your Personality

You don’t want to name your car Lighting, Dash, or Speedy if you are the kind of person who likes to take it slow. If you are shy, think of a more laidback name. If you are an extrovert, a quirkier name will be more suitable.

Are you a history buff or a big fan of a certain sports team, movie director, or author? Get creative! Just make sure the name matches your personality as well.

3. The License Plate

The letters in your license plate might give you a good idea for a name. For instance, if your license plate has the letters SDE, you might want to call it Sadie. MDN could be Madonna. You get the idea. It’s also a great mnemonic for remembering your license plate.

4. Consider the Color of the Car

The color of your car can put you in the right direction.

Black:

Black Beauty

Black Cat

Black Stallion

Black Widow

Blackhawk

Blade

Crow

Dahlia

Dark Knight

Delirium

Dementor

Doom

Drusilla

Grimm

Jet

Lilith

Mamba

Midnight

Moan

Night

Nightrunner

Nitro, Zorro

Nyx

Sirius

Tarantula

Wednesday

Wolf

White:

Casper

Diamond

Falkor

Fang

Frost

Ghost

Jon Snow

Marshmallow

Moby

Noise

Powder

Princess

Snow White

White Rabbit

Yellow/Gold:

Alchemy

Amber

Bert

Big Bird

Blondie

Bumble Bee

Champagne

Cleo

Cyrus Gold

Dawn

Divine

Ducky

Finch

Fleur

Gatsby

Gold Bug

Goldfinger

Goldilocks

Grimm

Honey

Knox

Lemon

Luigi

Midas

Ponyboy

Rumpelstiltskin

Scorpion

Sol

Sunshine

Tweety

Wiz

Wolverine

Yellowjacket

Red/Orange:

Annie

Ariel

Blood

Carrot Top

Cheeto

Christine

Chuckie Finster

Chucky

Clifford

Crimson

Crush

Diablo

Elmo

Fern

Fireball

Ginger

Holloway

Kenny Mc”Car”mick

Ladybug

Lola

Molly

Mushu

Nemo

Nightcrawler

Orange Crush

Pebbles

Pony

Raggedy

Red Claw

Robin

Ron Burgundy

Rose

Ruby

Scarlet

Shaggy

Star Fox

Starsky

Tang

Tiger

Weasley

Willow

Yosemite Sam

Blue:

Baby

Baloo

Betty

Blue Beetle

Blue Devil

Blue Velvet

Bluebird

Boy

Celeste

Crush

Dolphin

Dory

Gonzo

Grover

Heaven

Ice

Ice Cube

Jasmine

Freeze

Johnson

Mystique

Poseidon

Sam Eagle

Saphira

Sky

Smoke

Smurf/Smurfette

Sonic

Streak

Thunder

Green:

Alien

Booger

Clover

Dragon

Dragonfly

Elliot

Flash

Frogger

Gable

Gawain

Godzilla

Green Arrow

Gumby

Hulk

Kermit

Mike Wazowski

Toad

Poison Ivy

Puff

Ribbet

Scales

George

Yoshi

Purple:

Amethyst

Barney

Cheshire

Crimson

Dark Wing

Dino

Dizzy Devil

Gengar

Harold

Haunter

Hawkeye

Maleficent

Nebula

Pandora

Rain

Saturn

Stella

The Joker

Tinky Winky

Twilight

Twilight Sparkle

Ursula

Weezing

Willy Wonka

Silver/Grey:

Bullet

Dorian

Grayson

Iron Man

Magneto

Mercury

Onyx

Oracle

Quicksilver

Raiden

Scythe

Silver Dagger

Silver Fox

Silver Surfer

Cloud

Storm

Titanium

Tron

5. Consider Celebrity Babies’ Names

When you are a famous celebrity, it’s hard to name your kid Martha or Mike. Take inspiration from some of the most creative baby names:

Apple

Axl

Blue

Cash

Cosimo

Dream

Gunner

Jada

Jagger

Jax

Jett

Lolita

Miley

Mowgli

Seven

Taj

Zeppelin

6. Consider Fictional Character Names

These movie, book, video game, and myth-inspired names can also work for children and pets.

Game of Thrones:

Arya

Cersei

Drogo

Gilly

Hodor

Khal

Khaleesi

Osha

Sansa

Shireen

Sparrow

Stannis

Tyrion

Tywin

Varys

Harry Potter:

Albus

Amos

Bellatrix

Charity

Cho

Draco

Fleur

Ludo

Luna

Millicent

Minerva

Phineas

Remus

Severus

Sirius

Superheroes and Villains:

Astro

Bane

Black Widow

Deadshot

Manhattan

Dredd

Galactus

Gambit

Harlow

Judge

Kahlo

Katana

Lex Luthor

Loki

Maxx

Mingus

Mystique

Nightwing

Onyx

Oracle

Ozymandias

Rocket

Rorschach

Spectre

Steel

Storm

Thor

Warlock

Wildcat

Wolverine

The Sandman Series:

Alianora

Azazel

Barnabas

Basanos

Constantine

Corinthian

Death

Delirium

Desire

Despair

Destiny

Destruction

Dream (Morpheus)

Duma

Foxglove

Goldie

Lucien

Mazikeen

Nuala

Odin

Remiel

Thessaly

Titania

Greek and Roman Names:

Aphrodite (Venus)

Ares (Mars)

Artemis (Diana)

Athena (Minerva)

Dionysus (Bacchus)

Hades (Pluto)

Hera (Juno)

Hermes (Mercury)

Hestia (Vesta)

Poseidon (Neptune)

Zeus (Jupiter)

Shakespeare:

Balthasar

Cassius

Oberon

Patience

Perdita

Portia

Silvius

Tarquin

Tylbalt (Tyl”bolt”)

Additional Names Inspired by Movies, TV Shows, and Video Games:

Akasha

Amidala

Astaroth

Azrael

Bloodrayne

Cloud

Cortana

Domino

Elektra

Jinx

Kage

Kain

Lara

Link

Lux

Maximus

Neo

Niobe

Pluto

Raiden

Rygar

Samus

Trinity

Xena

You can also look at various card games for inspiration, such as Pokémon, Yu-Gi-Oh, and Magic: The Gathering.

7. Consider Names Inspired by Athletes and Sports

If you have a favorite sport or athlete, this may be the perfect time to show your allegiance:

Agassi

Ali

Blitz

Bolt

Brady

Cal

Colt

Darko

Dexter

Dodger

Early

Ewing

Falcon

Fisk

Hunter

Kareem

Kobe

Magic

Manu

Peyton

Priest

Spike

Tiger

Tyson

Venus

Yogi

Naming your car should be an enjoyable experience. You’ll look back fondly on the day when it clicked and you found the perfect name for your new baby.

You Might Also Enjoy:

All the Presidents’ Cars | Famous Cars U.S. Presidents Drove

9 Best Pre-Owned Cars for 2017

10 Bad Driving Habits That Are Damaging Your Vehicle

Top 11 Books on Automobiles | Maintenance, Repair, Fiction & Nonfiction

Top 5 Road Trips in America | Plan a USA Road Trip!

Buy Here Pay Here USA wants to help you find the perfect vehicle, give it a name, and bring it to its new home.

With locations in Cleveland, Chattanooga, Dayton, and a new store in Dalton, GA, we make it easy to drive away in your dream car.

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to speak with one of our Online Specialists or give us a call:

Chattanooga, TN – (423) 551-3600

Cleveland, TN – (423) 472-2000

Dayton, TN – (423) 775-4600

Dalton, TN – (706) 217-2277

The post What Should I Name My Car? List of the Best Car Names appeared first on Buy Here Pay Here USA.

from Buy Here Pay Here USA https://www.buyherepayhereusa.com/blog/what-should-i-name-my-car-best-car-names/

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ashleyclairee · 5 years ago

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Because the world is burning down around us so why not

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? uhh pink

2. Name a food you never ever eat. oysters

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? Too warm

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago ? watching YouTube

5. What is your favorite candy bar ? Herseys

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event? plenty

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? “this bitch”

8. What is your favorite ice cream? cookie dough

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? water

10. Do you like your wallet? Yea but I kinda want another one

11. What was the last thing you ate? crackers

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? LOL always

13. The last sporting event you watched? Rupaul’s rag Race

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? kettle corn

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? my mom

16. Ever go camping? a few times

17. Do you take vitamins? I sure do

18. Do you go to church every Sunday? lol no

19. Do you have a tan? I’m you friendly neighborhood Casper the ghost

20. Do you prefer Chinese food over Pizza? depends on my mood

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw? I don't drink soda but yea

22. What color socks do you usually wear? Whatever

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? I mean....

24. What terrifies you? LOL

25. Look to your left, what do you see? my water bottle

26. What chore do you hate? doing laundry

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australia accent? it’s hot

28. What’s your favorite soda? Diet Dr Pepper

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive through? Drive through

30. What is your favorite number? 12

31. Who's the last person you talked to? my mom

32. Favorite cut of beef? I literally have no idea

33. Last song you listened to? Savage by Megan Thee Stallon

34. Last book you read? Circe By Madeline Miller

35. Favorite day of the week? Friday

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? No

37. How do you like your coffee? I have this specific vanilla oat milk creamer that I love to put in it

38. Favorite pair of shoes? My black combat boots & my vans

39. Time you normally go to bed? around 10

40. Time you normally get up? 6:00 AM baby

41. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunrise

42. How many blankets on your bed? 1

43. Describe your kitchen plates? white

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? Vodka soda

45. Do you play cards? No

46. What color is your car? baby blue

47. Can you change a tire? I really need to learn

48. Your favorite state? Louisiana

49. Favorite job you’ve had? the one I have now....

50. How did you get your biggest scar? not sure

#personal #i am so bored

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ecotone99 · 6 years ago

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[MF] I married a ghost

The house had always felt alive, It's an old Victorian terrace house with many cracks and crevices with many secrets within the walls.

I could feel the ghostly bodies moving around all the time. I mean I am not insane but something in the back of my mind always had told me the dead were living in my house. I was right.

Back in October 2008, I was home alone, my cat decided it was his day off and went for a walk and my housemates where all at work. I sat down in front of the TV with a bowl of popcorn ready to watch the greatest movie to ever exist, Casper the friendly ghost.

There is something about ghosts that have always fascinated me. I always wondered what it would be like to be a ghost. That doesn't make me crazy, does it?

I was halfway through the film when the light began to flicker. I almost shat myself.

The light kept flickering until a big spark and puff the light bulb shattered into a million pieces. I screamed. I'm surprised the neighbours didn't call the police it sounded like I was getting murdered.

I jumped five feet into the air scattering popcorn all over the place. I took a leap of faith onto the sofa. My knees bent so far I could feel the creaking in my bones. My mouth went dry as I began to pant. Fear struck my body like a Concorde.

The movie continued to play as I stood there in total panic. My panic began to subside until the room fell silent as the tv turned black.

The sudden onset panic attack erupted once more. My knees felt weak yet they still stayed glued in place.

I Closed my eyes and waited to be killed, I stood there for a few minutes before I opened my eyes. I jumped backwards and fell to the floor. I had literally seen a ghost.

His skin had a pale complexion, but not see through like the movies. His eyes glowed an electric blue and he had scars all over his body. Some looked deep.

He looked like he was thirty. He wore a scuffed up black shirt, Stained with god knows what. His trousers were also stained and he wore no shoes. His hair was scruffy black with flecks of all sorts in it.

When I jumped back I caught my head of the table and past out. The next thing I knew I had woken up with an ice pack on my head laying on the sofa.

The man was still standing there as pale as he was the first time I had seen him.

"Hi i didn't mean to scare you, my names Lee" He put his hand out in an indication for me to shake. Out of shock, I shock it. A shiver went through me, his hand was icy.

"Don't be afraid I won't hurt you" He spoke in a soothing tone like that of a children's TV presenter.

" I thought you might want to meet me I see you watching ghost videos all the time. It's very lonely being dead you see." I took a deep gulp and huddled myself back into an upright position almost squirming.

"What happened to you," I asked my body relaxed a little bit

"I don't want to Spook you," He said calmly as if he hadn't even scared me already..

"Please go on" I said

"Well I got killed in this house," he said. I took another big gulp of fresh air.

"Who by" It was as if I had known this guy all my life. I was talking to him as if I had known him since the day I was born.

"I got in a fight with John,,I couldn't afford my part of the rent, we have lived here together for ten years you see. I said I lost my Job and needed to move back home. He got angry. He said that I never loved him that in fact what we had was a lie and that I used him. I had never seen him this angry before." A teardrop formed at the top of his left eye

" It was like he was possessed. I said that I did love him, its just I thought we could move back to my parents for a while and find a new house. There was a lot of shouting he started to push me. I didn't like that so I pushed him back. He wasn't having any of it he picked up a kitchen knife and repeatedly stabbed me." He paused for a moment. I said nothing out of shock.

"Im now buried under the floor in his bedroom," he said

"Whos John?" I took a moment to think. It then dawned on me it could be the landlord. There was always something strange about that man

"Are you talking about John Smith?" I said

"Yes that John the bastard got away with murder. I think he killed more than just me that's why I came back to ask for your help in locking up the bastard before he kills anyone else." My heart fluttered I felt my throat closing up.

We talked for a while longer. I plucked up the courage and I checked out John's room. Johns door was locked, luckily Lee knew where a spare key was. I opened the door and a horrible stenched woofed out. It smelled of rotten skunk.

The room was filthy. There were clothes everywhere, dirt caked in layers on the oak floor. There was a horrible smell. A smell that I have never smelt before. It was a mix between vomit and fish.

Looking around, I could see more dirt. The bedding hadn't been washed in years, that smell kept hitting me. I looked at his desk yet another is covered in dirty plates and other debris.

Just underneath one of the plates stuck out a folder. I moved the plates out the way and picked it up. It was black without a label. I unclipped it and pulled out a stack of photos. The photos were of naked bodies covered in blood. The bodies were bruised and scarred. They were pale and pasty.

I felt like I wanted to leave but Lee made me look further. He wanted me to know he wasn't lying about this whole thing.

Locating a bin I puked out breakfast. This whole room gave me the creeps. I wanted to hide call the police straight away, but I needed to be sure that there was a body.

Lee told me that there was a loose floorboard underneath the bed. Shoving the bed with a bit of force I managed to move it out the way. Sure enough, one of the floorboards where lose. I managed to pry it up. Then the next one. That's all i needed to remove. Underneath lay a man in a black suit.

I took one look at him and realised that it was the same man standing next to me. The face had the same scars. The clothes were the same. Every inch of the man was the same. The only difference between the two was the one under the floorboards had begun to decay.

I called the police, and they arrested John.. I could have been the next victim if I hadn't found the body. He had pictures of me in a folder marked with blood. My hair clippings were inside a Ziploc bag under his desk.

Two months later John was put on trial. I didn't have to testify. The pictures and bloody clothes that were found in the wardrobe, plus a victim who escaped the same night that I found the body was enough to put him behind bars for the rest of his life.

The bank who reclaimed the house evicted me and the other flatmates. That's when I lost contact with Lee for a while.

A few weeks after moving home with my parents. The house went up on the market for a very low price. I don't know what made me but I got a loan from my parents and moved back in.

On the big day of moving in, I hoped and prayed that I would bump into Lee again. Something about him made my heart flutter.

I was unpacking boxes labelled Kitchen when Lee appeared he frightened the shit out of me and made my heart race in two different ways. He smiled I smiled and once again we connected. It was love at first sight as some say.

For the next few years, we celebrated every day together. We cooked together, played Xbox. We read books done paintings. We argued a lot, we fought but that made our love stronger. Every time I see him he makes my heart fluttered and if he was alive I bet I made his flutter to.

Lee could never leave the house because his spirit left him within the confines of the house, but that didn't matter. We did everything we could together. And the things he couldn't do with me I recorded myself doing them for him.

After four years of knowing each other Lee proposed. Are engagement rings were made of tinfoil but that never mattered. Of course, we couldn't have an official wedding we still had the greatest wedding ever.

We decorated the house in white, flowers everywhere. I got a dress of eBay and I walked down a makeshift aisle. We said our vowels kissed. We have now been married six years and I have never been in love with someone so deeply before. He is the one for me.

As the vowels say we are together till death do us apart. Well, in this case, we are together for eternity. That's the biggest perk of marrying a ghost.

https://www.thebookaddict.co.uk/2019/07/one-aspect-yes-i-believe-in-ghosts-but.html

submitted by /u/user1_4 [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2LUSHJL

#Blogger #Story

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doctortreklock · 6 years ago

Text

Nightmare and Casper - July 3, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: "We can't keep doing this." (x)

Fandom: Supernatural

Title: Comic book title (x)

Words: 807

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Dean shook his head and glared at the Wyoming hills disappearing beneath Baby's tires. He turned up the Zeppelin tape playing through the speakers. Then he turned it down again. "Are you sure we've been to Casper before, Cas?" Dean snapped tiredly. "I'm pretty sure I'd have remembered this." He gestured with one hand to the vast expanse of nothingness to either side of him.

"Yes, Dean," Cas told him patiently. "I asked you if it had any connection to Casper, the friendly ghost. You told me it was his birthplace."

Dean frowned faintly at the memory. "Oh yeah. I remember now."

"You thought the case was a ghost," Cas continued.

"Right."

"It was not." Cas's voice was even.

"I didn't have any way of knowing--" Dean protested, but Cas spoke over him.

"It was a poltergeist."

"Yeah, yeah, enough already," Dean groused. "It's like a ghost."

"It was not pleasant," Cas informed Dean solemnly, as if he hadn't been there for the whole thing. "I was thrown through a plate glass window."

"Drop it, Cas," Dean demanded, but there wasn't any heat to it. "You were so powered-up at the time, the glass rolled off you like water. When I went through a window in Detroit six months later, I was picking glass out of my hair for a week."

Cas frowned at the memory. "Nevertheless, Casper is on the List, so we are going to Casper."

The List was new. Despite Chuck's dire warning that they were in "The End," it had taken Sam finding a news story out of Texas about the ghost of Mordechai Murdoch murdering a girl for the hunters to realize what had happened. They had hurried to Richardson and found the house the Tulpa had once occupied still burnt to the ground from where the Winchesters had left it fifteen years previous, though the spirit wasn't nearly as destroyed as the house had been. Luckily, Cas was older than dirt and had a few tricks up his sleeve. In this case, sigils that could reverse the magic creating the Tupla in the first place.

After that, it became depressingly easy to pick out past success stories in brand new, gory headlines. The good news was, they already knew which monster was which and how to kill it. The bad news was that the monsters knew they were coming. And boy did they hate the Winchesters. Simple salt n burns got infinitely more difficult when you’d already done the salting and burning and the ghost was still there. Luckily they had Rowena, but her spell for dismissing spirits was still in testing, and angry specters didn’t tend to wait patiently while you drew a chalk circle around them.

Dean and Sam had gotten the largest whiteboard they could find and tried to list as many cases as they could remember. Cas had chimed in where he could, and they’d eventually had to graduate to a spreadsheet, which Sam sorted by urgency and geography and printed out on a dishearteningly large number of pages. This was the List that Dean, Cas, Sam, and Rowena had been working off of for the last nine weeks.

Dean was damn well getting sick of it.

"We can't keep doing this," Dean sighed, watching yet another rolling hill disappear in his rearview mirror.

When he didn't get an answer, Dean glanced over at the passenger seat. "Cas."

Castiel turned his attention from the Wyoming wilderness to the Winchester. "I am not sure we have much choice in the matter," he said. He sounded exhausted.

Dean understood why. The pair had been on the road for over two months straight, traipsing all over the western half of the continental United States. In some ways, it felt a lot like the way hunting had been pre-bunker, when the Winchesters were living out of motel rooms and constantly on the lookout for new cases.

There were a few differences this time, though. For one, there was a fallen angel playing shotgun instead of Dean's annoying younger brother. For another, they weren't exactly scouring newspapers and shady websites for mysterious happenings. Not since Chuck had declared this to be "The End."

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," Dean pointed out angrily.

Cas didn't argue. "If it helps," he offered, "I believe we can now cross Wyoming off our list."

"Really?" Dean asked, straightening slightly in the driver's seat. "Wasn't there a kitsune left in Cheyenne?"

"I haven't been able to find any evidence that she's been feeding," Cas told him. "And based on the frankly alarming state of Colorado, I think we can afford to let her go for now."

"Colorado, hmm," Dean said grimly, settling back down into the leather bench seat and pressing his foot incrementally down on the gas pedal. "Fort Collins, here we come."

#Resolution19 #Supernatural #Dean and Cas do a road trip!#Hunting ghosts and goolies they already hunted once!#Yay!#Season 14 #hiatus fic #spntl #July's title is...titles of things that already exist #this one is from a comic book

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sailorrrvenus · 6 years ago

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‘Old Photos Are Not Worth Anything’

Dear writer of the Forbes Magazine article, “Your Top 10 Objects Your Kids Don’t Want”…

I just read your article. In it, you outline the objects in your home that you feel one’s children will not want passed on to them. You state the list was inspired by conversations with your 30-year old son and boomer clients and their millennial heirs. I must admit, I was a little dubious going in, as I know that millennials, for all their love of tiny homes and Marie Kondo lifestyles, are also responsible for the resurgence of vinyl records and shooting with film cameras. Pretty sure Leica gives a beanie away with every camera purchase. If they don’t, they should.

But, on to your list.

The list of objects you say our children do not want includes things like steamer trunks, sewing machines, porcelain figurines, silver-plated objects, “heavy dark antique furniture,” Persian rugs, linens, sterling silver flatware, crystal wine services, and fine porcelain dinnerware. Some of these items made sense; some didn’t. And I was okay… until I read this object:

Paper Ephemera: “family snapshots, old greeting cards and postcards.”

I admit it, I had to Google “ephemera.” The name sounds like the love child of “pheromones” and “enemas” and I knew that couldn’t be right. Turns out, it isn’t:

e·phem·er·a /əˈfem(ə)rə/ noun plural noun: ephemera; noun: ephemerum things that exist or are used or enjoyed for only a short time. items of collectible memorabilia, typically written or printed ones, that were originally expected to have only short-term usefulness or popularity.

You then go on to inform your readers that, and I quote:

Old photos are not worth anything unless the sitter is a celebrity or linked with an important historical event or the subject is extremely macabre, like a death memorial image.

Upon reading that last sentence, I left my computer in search of a couple of Advil and some vodka. I knew I wouldn’t make it through without their help. I was already feeling a pain behind my left eye. And, having consumed both, I thought I could walk away from the article, but alas, the words you wrote kept rattling around in my head:

“OLD PHOTOS ARE NOT WORTH ANYTHING…”

The sentiment made me sad. Not that it’s true, mind you, but that you think it; that you can hold in your hands family photographs, YOUR HISTORY, and feel it not worth anything. It’s so incredibly sad that even the thought is enough to kill a kitten. And certainly if YOU feel that strongly about their lack of worth, no wonder your grown son doesn’t care. I mean, hello? McFly?

So, dear writer, allow me to enlighten you. You might want to sit down and grab a sandwich. I’m not known for brevity and this is one of my favorite topics, so it could take awhile.

Old photos aren’t worth anything… if you have no interest in preserving your family’s history. That’s a fact, Jack. (I actually don’t know your name, dear writer, but it would be so great if it actually is Jack.)

If you don’t care about passing down your family history to your children, then odds are really great, Jack, that your children aren’t going to care, either. They will view their family history much the same way they view a sewing machine. Namely, who gives a rat’s ass? Unless, of course, you have a celebrity in your family, in which case, you suggest we hold on to the photographs. Got a famous person in the family album? Grandma tied one on with Gertrude Stein? Uncle Amos is actually Famous Amos? Then, according to you, THOSE photos are worth something. But an average, ordinary family? They aren’t worth anything unless they are memento mori images: photographs of people asleep in death.

What the what?

Basically, Jack, what you’re saying is Kim Kardashian’s family photos are worth something, but the countless old photos showing men going to or returning from war, grandparents on their wedding day, great grandparents plowing their fields, parents as they ran about on toddlers’ legs, aren’t worth anything.

Well, unless they were photographed after death.

Is that what you’re saying, Jack?

Jack, I’m now officially worried about you.

I urge you, Jack, to think about all the history that has been passed down through photographs; all the things we know because we can SEE them in an old photograph. All the wonderful, ordinary, everyday events in the lives or our family that we get to witness in that time machine called a PRINTED PHOTOGRAPH. When we discard old family photographs, we discard a piece of us; we throw away our history. We say it doesn’t matter. What’s more, we tell future generations that it doesn’t matter.

Now, to be fair to you, Jack, you did offer the remedy of taking all of one’s family snapshots and having them made into digital files. You also offered the solution of selling them to greeting card publishers.

To the first suggestion, I say yes, absolutely, back up those prints with a digital copy, but that doesn’t mean discard the photograph. It’s lasted a lot longer than your children and, if cared for properly, will outlive that digital file…that was placed somewhere…on a drive…that you can’t open 10 years from now…or can’t find.

To the second suggestion, I say: what is wrong with you?

Listen, I understand about living simply and paring down the items we own to only those we truly love. But really, Jack, shouldn’t one of the items we truly love be our family photographs because they are directly linked to the history of who we are? Answer carefully–a kitten’s life is on the line.

(And to MY children: I know you value our family’s old photographs. I love that you love them. I adore you both and treasure how you respect your family. But so help me God, if you EVER sell my photos to a greeting card company, I will haunt you so bad it will make the movie Poltergeist look like Casper the Friendly Ghost.)

About the author: Missy Mwac is a photography satirist, a lover of bacon, a drinker of vodka, a lover of sparkle, and a guide through the murky waters of professional photography. The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author. You can connect with her on her website, Tumblr, and Facebook. This article was also published here.

source https://petapixel.com/2019/04/26/old-photos-are-not-worth-anything/

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