#turns out the trick to getting a guarantee early is to complain about a purple cat ruining your pulls

[litchi-tea]

It took sacrificing Keqing to the jade chamber 25 times, but I'm so happy he's home 🥺💖!

[bastionkeeper]

Write a short story about the first thing you see out the window!

It’s nighttime so my vision was slightly limited so all I saw was the window lit up next door. Also this isn’t a short story anymore cause I went way off the rails and got super into it and it got away from me and now this is a preview for a story I want to write asdlfkjasd;lfkj hope its good please tell me your thoughts guys is this worth writing more of cause I wanna.

The light in the house next door hadn’t gone off for several days now.

Normally, seeing the lights on in a neighbor’s house was no cause for alarm. In fact, one normally liked to see the neighborhood illuminated on a dark night, it brought a sense of safety and a false guarantee that no harm would come knocking on the door that looking to pilfer your Playstation. However, Lacey knew that the old man next door went to bed early, and that he turned off each light in his house one by one at 7 p.m. sharp.

Only one light was on, the one shining in the window across from Lacey’s living room. The only reason she noticed it was that her insomnia had worsened and she found herself spending several nights sitting on the couch searching for a show on Netflix that would fill up the emptiness in her chest with a story.

“Do you think he’s okay, Fizzgig?” she asked her cat, a lazy brown thing made of impressive weight and unmanageable tufts of fur. He was laying on the windowsill, glaring out the window seeing nighttime creatures only a cat’s eyes could see.

Fizzgig had no opinion on the matter, but he meowed anyway because that was just the polite thing to do when a human attempted to communicate with you.

“Yeah, he’s probably fine,” she said. “Maybe it just takes too much energy to get to that room these days, so he just leaves it on.”

Fizzgig batted at moth foolish enough to draw near him.

Lacey moved back to the couch, throwing her legs up on the coffee table and starting her Netflix browse again. However, as she searched for a show, she found herself skimming over titles without reading them. Her eyes kept being drawn back to the light in the window.

“... maybe I should go check on him?” Lacey mused. “I don’t want to do that. That’s weird right? Or is that just neighborly? Neighbors really don’t do that anymore, huh? I say that like I was around for the time neighbors hung out because we didn’t have streaming television. Not that technology is evil, just that it has the capacity for desocialization.”

Fizzgig was used to his owner yowling in such a manner. She got excited easily, and he found the best way to rectify this problem was to hop up onto her lap until she quieted down, her fingers finding their way to the soft spot behind his ear for some quality scratches.

“But he is really old…” Lacey said. “... if he’d fallen and couldn’t get up, and I could have helped him, but I didn’t cause anxiety, and then he died-! I would never be able to sleep again.”

Fizzgig complained loudly as Lacey stood, lifting him in her arms. She deposited him back on the couch and moved to the front door. She was still in her pajamas-shorts worn thin by age and a tank top with a popular anime character on it-but she grabbed a jacket from the hook to throw over them before stepping into a pair of sandals by the door.

“Be good, Fizzgig, protect my stuff,” Lacey said as she left.

Fizzgig watched her leave, before ignoring her orders in favor of chasing after the damned moth he’d decided was his ultimate rival.

Lacey shivered as she walked down the sidewalk and up the rickety steps leading to her neighbor’s front porch. It was strangely cold for a July night, and for a moment she even thought she saw her breath. She drew her jacket closer as she rang the doorbell.

No answer.

She waited a few minutes, then rang the doorbell again, and again there was no answer.

“Hello?” Lacey called, peeking in through the front window. The curtains were drawn, but she could see a bit of the room beyond through a slight gap in between them. Was that the figure of a fallen old man in there or was it just the shadows playing tricks on her?

“I’m not a home invader!” Lacey said, for anyone who might be watching, before trying the doorknob.

The door was unlocked, and opened with a creak. Lacey almost turned tail right then and there, as dark houses and creaking doors were two things she did not want to encounter alone. However, she could see the one illuminated room in the distance, and the thought of leaving someone who needed help scared her a lot more than ghosts.

Or maybe ghosts were scarier, but still.

She tip-toed across the darkened living room, moved through a dark hallway sticking close to the wall as if she could sink into it if danger came.

“Mister?” she called out. “Are you in here?”

She crept closer to the illuminated room, the dining room it looked like. Her heartbeat rang in her ears.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” she whispered to herself. “Ghosts only show up in scary movies and webcomics, and this is real life. I can’t have an origin story I just finished college I’m supposed to go into debt and find a roommate on craigslist and hope I don’t get axe murdered.”

Lacey took her final step into the dining room.

“Oh my god,” she said.

Then she screamed.

The old man was laying on the floor, his limbs bent in a way that didn’t look comfortable and clearly not breathing. He might have been dead. He was probably dead.

That isn’t what made Lacey scream.

“Whoa, whoa!” the floating purple thing in the corner said, gesturing with things that might have been hands in an appeasing manner. “Don’t freak out kid, I just slipped and popped out of my guy, that’s all! No problems here, alright? No one’s gonna get haunted, no one’s gonna die! It’s all good, got it?”

“Ghost!” Lacey accused, pointing at the purple spectre.

“Yeah, okay, that’s rude,” the ghost said. “What if I was like ‘human!’ all in your face, huh?”

“I am a human,” Lacey said.

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’ve got a name I could use instead,” the ghost said sarcastically. “For example, I’m Reggie, hi, nice to meet ya. What’s your name?”

“I’m… I’m Lacey, sorry did you just say Reggie?”

“The fuck is wrong with Reggie?” the ghost asked.

“I just…” Lacey paused, her fear being totally overwhelmed by the absurdity of her situation. “I expected something… scarier?”

“Why would my name be scary just cause I’m a ghost?” Reggie huffed. “You don’t get a ghost name when you die you know. ‘Oh hey, welcome to the spiritual plane, here’s your ghost name, you’re Tralifax the Miserable.’ I got a regular person name, okay?”

“That sounds like an alien name,” Lacey said.

“Sorry, I wasn’t really thinking of ghost names when you broke into my house, I wasn’t expecting to have to come up with one on the spot,” Reggie huffed. “Look… I need you to do me a favor while you’re here, okay?”

“A… favor?” Lacey felt dizzy, like she might fall over.

“First of all, take a deep breath,” Reggie said. “You’re hyperventilating, it’s gonna feel really shitty if you keep doing that. Next, I need you to break this jar I’m floating out of.”

“J… jar?” Lacey stammered. She looked to where Reggie was gesturing and saw that there was in fact a jar laying on its side on the floor. The purple smokey creature that called himself Reggie seemed to have a tail that stretched down into the jar.

“... if I break this are you gonna be free to kill and haunt me?” Lacey asked nervously.

“I mean, no I’m not gonna do that, but if I was I wouldn’t tell you so,” Reggie did something that must have been a shrug. “Take your chances. I’d appreciate it if you helped me but I ain’t gonna make you do something you don’t wanna.”

Lacey slowly approached the jar, glancing up at Reggie occasionally. She picked it up, and as she did Reggie seemed to adjust his position based on how the jar moved.

“... if you kill me, please feed my cat,” Lacey said, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing the jar against the ground as hard as she could.

The jar shattered, and as it did Lacey heard a loud sound like a gust of wind. When she opened her eyes, the ghost was gone, and the old man was picking himself up off the floor.

“Phew, thanks, kid,” Reggie said, his voice coming from the old man’s mouth. “Went and tripped carrying some evidence and got myself trapped. I was like that for days, it was really boring.”

Lacey felt her knees buckle underneath her, and suddenly the old man was catching her before she could hit the ground.

“Look, you sit down here, I’ll make some chamomile and I’ll explain things,” he said, pulling out one of the dining room chairs for her.

Reggie did in fact make tea, and brought it out to the table in a fancy porcelain teapot with matching teacups. He poured them each a cup, and offered Lacey a bowl of sugar cubes. She mindlessly went through the motion of stirring two of them into her tea, and only after her first sip did she speak.

“Do you have maybe something stronger?” she asked.

“What, like Earl Gray?” Reggie asked.

“Like Jack Daniels.”

“Jeez, you kids,” Reggie pulled a face. “Booze is no way to treat a panic attack. Drink your tea and take some cleansing breaths.”

Lacey did as she was told, and despite the fact that she was sitting at a table with a possessed old man, she found herself growing calmer.

“Okay,” Reggie said. “So, ghosts are real. You probably already suspected that but decided to ignore it cause it sounds scary. Sorry, but we’re real. Some dead people have unfinished business and they stick around. Nothing to be scared of really, I mean no more than you’re scared of other people. There’s ghosts of murderers and crooks, sure, but there’s ghosts of accountants and preschool teachers too. Some ghosts, like me, get lucky and make friends with a human that’s about to die totally satisfied with their lot in life. Old Percy here shed his mortal coil and bequeathed it to me so I could conduct my business tangibly on the mortal realm.”

“Wh...what are you saying…” Lacey said.

“Okay, the Sparknotes version,” Reggie groaned. “I was friends with the old guy. He croaked. Gave me his body so I could talk to humans and touch things. Need to do that for my job you see, I’m a spectral investigator and mortal mediator. I save ghosts from exorcists and people from malevolent spirits. I basically keep things nice and peaceful, and sometimes that requires saving some spiritual fellows from nasty ghost traps like that spirit jar. I brought it home to throw it in the evidence locker and tripped and wouldn’t ya know it but with my luck it didn’t shatter but I sure popped right out of Percy and into the trap.”

“You’re a ghost ghost hunter,” Lacey said.

Reggie looked at her with disdain, and sighed.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m a ghost ghost hunter,” he said. “Kinda makes my job look simple and small but if that’s what you wanna call me okay.”

Lacey sipped at her tea, and felt a bit underdressed for a ghost tea party in her pajamas.

“So,” Reggie said, pouring himself another cup. “Now that you know about me-”

“You have to kill me?” Lacey shrieked, standing up so quickly her chair fell to the ground.

“Forget the killing, no one’s killing!” Reggie shouted. “You heard me before right? I’m not the ghost of some murderer, I’m just a person! I’m talking to you, person to person, ghost to living being, and I’m asking you… if you can keep a secret.”

“... you mean, as long as I don’t tell people you’re a ghost… you won’t kill me?” Lacey asked.

“I won’t kill you even if you do tell,” Reggie said, his voice growing a little kind even though he was exasperated. “You helped me out, you’re a good kid, and I’m not a killer. Besides, if you did go around telling people the old man next door is a ghost… they wouldn’t believe you so... this secret keeping thing is really for your own good.”

Lacey cleared her throat, blushing, and put her chair back. She took a seat, making a big show of crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap. She took a sip of her tea.

“This… ghost ghost hunting…” she said. “Does it pay well?”

“Does it pa… kid the fuck are you asking me?” Reggie groaned.

“I’m really short on rent and I’m looking for a side gig to make some extra cash,” Lacey admitted. “And it sounds like you need someone human nearby just in case stuff like this happens. And I’m terrified of ghosts but I’m more terrified of homelessness or moving back in with my parents because let’s be real capitalism is the real horror show here, so-”

“Stop.” Reggie put up a weary hand to stop her rambling. “Just… let me think about it, okay?”

“Really?” Lacey asked, surprise written all over her face. She really hadn’t been expecting anything but a refusal.

“Yeah, really,” Reggie sighed. “Go home, get some sleep-don’t think I don’t see you staying up all night watching cartoons-and tomorrow I’ll give you my answer.”

“Holy shit, wow, okay, cool,” Lacey said. “Cool, cool, co-”

“Stop talking,” Reggie said. “Home. Now. Sleep.”

“Right! Yeah! Sleep. That thing living people do aha… was that offensive?”

“Yes,” Reggie said. “Go.”

Lacey shot Reggie an awkward two finger salute before backing towards the hallway, bumping into the wall clumsily and spinning to face the way she was walking. She stumbled out of the house, and immediately had to bent over and put her hands on her knees as she gasped for breath.

“That was so fucking insane,” she gasped. “Okay, chill. Sleep time. Can’t sleep with adrenaline. Gotta calm down.”

As she straightened and made her way back to her apartment, Reggie watched her from the window. One aged hand held the curtain back as he saw the young woman trip up the stairs and look around to make sure no one had seen, before going inside.

“... well… I’m screwed,” he sighed. “I definitely gotta hire that disaster kid.”