can't always trust your eyes ...

ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴀɪɴ ʟɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ.

[paraphysics]

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗬𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦 : ᴀɴ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ, ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍʟᴇꜱꜱ, ᴇxᴘʟᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴋᴇᴘᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍ, ʟɪᴇꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴀɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ. 𝗔 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗗𝗬 𝗜𝗡 ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɴ.

𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘 𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗪 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗗 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗜𝗦𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗪 𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚.

𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗚 𝗜𝗦 𝟭𝟴+ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴅɪꜱᴛᴜʀʙɪɴɢ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇʀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴀʟ. 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗪𝗔𝗬𝗦 𝗕𝗘 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗗.

𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗠𝗔𝗬 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗕𝗘 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗗 : ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴄᴄᴜʟᴛ ꜱʏᴍʙᴏʟɪꜱᴍ. ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴜʟᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪᴍɪʟᴀʀʟʏ ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ. ᴘꜱʏᴄʜᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ꜰʀɪɢʜᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇꜱ. ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ɪʟʟɴᴇꜱꜱ. ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟɪꜱᴍ. ꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ.

*𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝗮 𝗺𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘂𝗻𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴, 𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘃𝗲, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱. 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 : )

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Ian Oswald - Sleep - Penguin - 1966

[paraphysics]

tom is extremely adverse to responsibility. he’s a dependable person, but he finds positions of accountability and authority stifling. he doesn’t want to be responsible for the outcome of a situation/project ( regardless of whether or not it reflects favorably on him or his work ethic ), and he especially doesn’t want to be put in a position where he has to micromanage another. in these respect, he would rather follow than lead.

his psychic abilities fatigue him in a similar way. he feels he is often the only one who not only senses, but knows something isn’t what it appears to be and therefore it’s his responsibility to bring it to light. if it weren’t for his fear that a loved one will fall victim to a situation he could have prevented, he would write off all his premonitions in denial.

one of the reasons he’s so desperate to find proof of frauds and to discover another with legitimate esp abilities is so that he can displace the responsibility of providing evidence of psychic powers onto someone else.

[nemfrog]

The increase of insanity. 1907. 

[paraphysics]

“ 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛. ” the voice droned amidst the dull stridation of insects and the sway of some bird, called the investigator’s attention from the gentle lights dancing in his lens, lulling him away from a tripod and back towards the bark of a distraught water - gum. the crown of his black cap pressed into a pillow of moss as he inclined his chin, exhaling something between a scoff and hum ; 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 ? buckley’s eyes rolled towards the figure that manifest beside the tree he’d sat at. against the sky’s twilight duo - tone they appeared two dimensional. not unlike a featureless shadow.

the sun seemed to sink farther during the short pause that elapsed ... what little horizon that could be seen through a netting of thin branches deepened from auburn to ruddy violet. ʜɪꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ʙᴇɢᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴊᴜꜱᴛ. but he was certain he could recognize this man without sight. 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦. the kind that drives you crazy by pointing out the obvious. “ had a funny feeling I’d run into you sometime soon. ” he imagined it’d be in town — at one of those cafés or someplace a suit would be at home. not a bushel of trees resembling a wet - land.

“ actually, ” buckley produced a small flashlight from his pocket, shining it around a camera bag resting at his feet — “ I have something you might like to see . . . ” he withdrew three pictures from the bag, and offered them to the other before moving back to his tripod. three colorless prints of what should be a man standing at the foot of a large circle. but there was something wrong with his face. it was dampened put by dusty film — 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 — an unmistakable smudge across what would have otherwise been an impressively resolute print in light of the fact that it’d been captured in a basement.

𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧. a bit too large to be a fire fly, but by no means did that suggest it was supernatural in origin. was it not common knowledge amongst dubach locals that their town was in close proximity to a marsh abundant in natural gasses ? “ what do you think. ” he mused as he squinted into his lens — “ Double exposure ? ”

ᴘʟᴀʏ ⏯︎ / @kxllerblond.

[kxllerblond]

He's not dressed for the environment around him, knows his shoes aren't right. In his defense, he'd not intended to be out here at all-—let alone for very long. Besides, he liked to consider himself knowledgeable enough to know where his nice dress shoes could step and where they really shouldn't.

It wasn't something to find much pride in-—being melodramatic. Clark hated theatrics. Any instance, such as this, where he exhibited the equivalent behavior of someone turning in a chair in a dark room with an overly fluffy cat in their lap were instances he felt parts of himself go to die.

❝ I mean it. People vanish after dark around these parts. And I don't mean because of ghosts or ghouls. ❞ his eyes flicker for the field of view the flashlight illuminated, caught the man's hands go to dig into the camera bag. He produced...oh. The photos. Clark had just nearly forgotten.

He heaved a tired sigh and finished his approach and did his best to pretend as if he didn't dread having to even acknowledge the damned things. He bent to look them over, his eyes settling immediately over the glaring corruptions. Clark let his gaze linger on them as he carded through them; he pretended to actually seem as they he was studying them rather than the quick and dismissive glance he would have given them otherwise.

❝ What do I think? I don't know. I'm not the man with the camera. Film isn't my specialty. I couldn't even tell you what 'double exposure' even is. ❞ and that much was true at least. Clark handed the photos back and looked for the tripod.

❝ What has you out in the marshes here of all places? Plenty of bigger towns full of bigger things to snap. ❞ last he'd even paid attention, his hometown hadn't even broken a thousand in population the last census and it felt like the town lost people every year since.

[paraphysics]

just as the investigator crossed the ill - defined threshold of rural township into wetland, the water croaked something deep and amphibious. he squinted at a bush from beneath his cap. it squirmed in the evening’s golden light, casting ripples over a shallow pool. it’s true. ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ʜɪᴅᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙᴏɢ. many, can ruin your day.

it wasn’t until dusk that his intention of making his visit to the woodland a brief one had dissolved. after the mossen earth had cooled and he could see stars scintillating through a canopy of gnarled branches. he soon forgot about the phantom lights. he forgot about the small - town nearby. his broken rental. his missed flight. he would have dozed off — had he remained undisturbed.

“ a few locals sighted strange lights as a source of misfortune. I plan on calling in a geophysicist to explain that the combustion of natural gasses can sometimes have an otherworldly appearance . . . ” buckley trailed off, adjusting his focus ring a bit more. the phantom light quivered as it neared the shoreline, beginning to die just before the waterbed. a small click sounded as his shutter blinked. ᴅᴏɴᴇ. tom exhaled. slouching down so that his elbows pressed into his crossed legs, “ she wants photographic evidence before she makes the trip. ” he looked over his shoulder to accept the photographs, brow furrowing as he observed the other’s way of dress : “ did you come from a meeting ? ”

[carnivorare]

@paraphysics wanted a starter. //

"so you really believe in all that spooky stuff, huh?" moby leans in, her interest genuine to an extent. of course, she was one of those that went bump in the night, but there was so rarely a human that knew as much as he seemed to. he carried advanced knowledge and possessed a wide and open mind, and appeared to harbor an insatiable hunger to find the many truths of her world. she grins, not wide enough to show her gums, but plenty enough to display the sharp weapons in her mouth. "what about ghosts? echoes of the people left behind even after the body is long gone, ashes to ashes?"

[paraphysics]

“ echoes. ” buckley rolled the word over his tongue, his brow rising in appreciation of its taste. “ that’s an accurate way to refer to most spiritual phenomena … ” he forced his eyes from her parted lips to meet her gaze. reciprocating it with an amicable, albeit affected, smile of his own. no matter where he looked, he found something off about this stranger in a way that was difficult to place. they didn’t appear physically off - putting — far from it. but when he studied her eyes he found something that both solicited and cautioned against emerging question. “ I think, ” he continued gently, blue irises afixed : “ if people were better at processing grief we’d see a decline in supposed hauntings. ”

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

ESP magazine, Modern Day Periodicals, January 1977

[turnupthestrobe]

[paraphysics]

a little light pervaded the investigator’s tired eyes. he blinked at a collection of inorganic shapes surfacing from a roily shadow that imbued his loft. antique furniture. tom couldn’t exactly put a reason as to why the voice on the other end of the line alleviated his shallow senses. it could’ve been it’s familiarity. or that, despite the seriousness with which it spoke, it sounded alive. like a moth to a flame, tom drifted towards the voice. captivated by its vitality —  ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ.

he absorbed adam’s voice more than he listened to his words. tom spent enough attention to understand this was all about some haunting — and adam was far from gullible. if he was involved in a case, it had to in the very least be severe in context. the investigator couldn’t have cared less about what his intuition had to say on the matter. if call needed his help, he’d have it. “ well if you think so, I’ll be there. ” tom’s response sounded a bit too zombi - ish for his liking. he cleared his throat gently, “ where am I going. ”

⏪︎ ʙᴀᴄᴋ || ᴘʟᴀʏ ⏯︎ / @rcbf4.

[princessstabbity]

[paraphysics]

his stance was somewhere between tentative and confrontational — upright. arms crossed. a hand rose to his face, fingertips gliding across his bottom lip. as he listened, he gnawed on the inside of his cheeck. 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 — or to allow something that should have departed to latch onto you. hauntings are a matter of ꜱʏᴍʙɪᴏꜱɪꜱ. ghosts, whether you believe them to be residual energy or restless soul, the fact remains ; they must siphon and devour to sustain themselves.

memories are almost parasitic in nature. 𝘯𝘰. they’re more like … a drug. they drain, flood you with guilt and nostalgia in vitality’s wake. ᴀ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ - ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʜɪɢʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ ꜱᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴxɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇʟᴀɴᴄʜᴏʟʏ. he was hooked — not because he was a masochist. some people are just born with an inclination towards punishment. and though somewhat hypocritical, tom thought he’d try and dissuade another from making his mistake of wading into the deep - end. “ they can only stick around if you let them and I don’t think that’s something you want. ” his brow furrowed in earnest, hands quickly finding his pockets and grasping a piece of spare change.

⏪︎ ʙᴀᴄᴋ || ᴘʟᴀʏ ⏯︎ / @curamorte.

[paraphysics]

I can picture an alternative timeline or maybe verse where tom grows emotionally fatigued by his search for “truth” and the paranormal, decides he’s the only legit case of psychic abilities in a human being, and as he shares/publishes his philosophy with the world, he slowly develops into a psychic cult leader.

[disease]

[paraphysics]

“ 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣’𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛. ” the voice droned amidst the dull stridation of insects and the sway of some bird, called the investigator’s attention from the gentle lights dancing in his lens, lulling him away from a tripod and back towards the bark of a distraught water - gum. the crown of his black cap pressed into a pillow of moss as he inclined his chin, exhaling something between a scoff and hum ; 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 ? buckley’s eyes rolled towards the figure that manifest beside the tree he’d sat at. against the sky’s twilight duo - tone they appeared two dimensional. not unlike a featureless shadow.

the sun seemed to sink farther during the short pause that elapsed ... what little horizon that could be seen through a netting of thin branches deepened from auburn to ruddy violet. ʜɪꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ʙᴇɢᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴊᴜꜱᴛ. but he was certain he could recognize this man without sight. 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦. the kind that drives you crazy by pointing out the obvious. “ had a funny feeling I’d run into you sometime soon. ” he imagined it’d be in town — at one of those cafés or someplace a suit would be at home. not a bushel of trees resembling a wet - land.

“ actually, ” buckley produced a small flashlight from his pocket, shining it around a camera bag resting at his feet — “ I have something you might like to see . . . ” he withdrew three pictures from the bag, and offered them to the other before moving back to his tripod. three colorless prints of what should be a man standing at the foot of a large circle. but there was something wrong with his face. it was dampened put by dusty film — 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 — an unmistakable smudge across what would have otherwise been an impressively resolute print in light of the fact that it’d been captured in a basement.

𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧. a bit too large to be a fire fly, but by no means did that suggest it was supernatural in origin. was it not common knowledge amongst dubach locals that their town was in close proximity to a marsh abundant in natural gasses ? “ what do you think. ” he mused as he squinted into his lens — “ Double exposure ? ”

ᴘʟᴀʏ ⏯︎ / @kxllerblond.

[paraphysics]

updating my blogs cannon/lore. I’ll probably post a new link to a carrd since I lost my old account. but this shouldn’t affect threads much.

[delevingned-deactivated20151023]

[paraphysics]

His glanced across the bar, towards a woman at work filing a couple of tall glasses just enough to keep a convex of foam from spilling over the order’s glass rim. The woman moved with such casual dexterity it was no wonder she responded to that title so readily : ‘ 𝙗𝙤𝙨𝙨. ’ one could easily picture her spending the better part of two decades rushing back and forth behind a stained counter.

the same could not be said for this waitress … Tom eyed her discreetly before giving the bartender his full attention. He was only familiar with one or two of the names she’d listed as a part of their selection — which made his decision easy. He straightened up and leaned forward, ready to respond with his order — when the waitress beside him stepped back.

He paused to return her smile with a quick bend of his lips, and watched her tend to some other customer. By the time his eyes lost track of the waitress, the woman behind the bar had already moved on to another customer, 𝘬𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘯. Tom watched the exchange patiently, hoping somewhat that his new acquaintance wouldn’t recognize him. This tepid wish slipped from him the moment phyllis addressed him.

“ 𝘩𝘪 - ” he huffed briskly to the man beside him before raising his voice to order : “ yuenling, please. ” he turned himself towards kevin, “ yeah. after this morning I thought I’d go somewhere a little more lively — 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ” Tom smiled at phyllis as she set cool glass before him. He took a quick sip. “ I have your pictures, by the way. ”

[spirit-x-ing]

Kevin waved his head down away from him. "Yeah...everyone knew Alana's time was up, even Alana did. But you know I'll miss her the most in the next few days coming," he answered. He suddenly leaned away looking at him in shock. "Damn!" he bellowed excitedly. "You work fast!" he said happily. "So when do you want me to pick them up?" he asked as Phyllis started filling up a small bucket of ice. 

-----

Lorelai sighed the place was packed and people kept coming and going. She was on her way back to the bar with a few empty glasses on her tray when she felt someone pull a bit on her blouse. Lorelai stopped and turned a bit surprised by the rude gesture to get her attention but not too surprised considering the place was full of drunk people. Though this patron wasn't drunk... nor living as she realized her mistake too late. 

"I wanna Jack and Coke, honey," he breathed out a low throaty whisper. The man was Caucasian, wearing some early Edwardian outfit, hat covering his eyes, and he was smoking a fat cigar. 

❝I'm busy...and it looks like you've had enough,❞ she replied simply as she was about to turn around and ignore the guy when he slammed his hand on the table and it actually shook. Her eyes widened.

"I know you can see me!" he let out as Lorelai slowly turned to face him once more when suddenly another ghost came over. It was the janitor she saw earlier in the day. 

"Is this man botherin' you?" he asked. Another Caucasian, he was holding his broom still, and he was an older fellow by the looks of it. 

❝No, it's fine,❞ she answered before turning and taking a couple of steps before stopping. She suddenly turned once more. ❝You know what....sure why not,❞ she decided curiosity getting the best of her. 

"You got it, missy," the janitor responded with a curt nod. "You heard the lady, you get up and get out!" he responded. 

"Fuck off!" he replied taking a long drag from his cigar and suddenly the janitor's face contorted as he dropped his broom and grabbed the guy's clothes by his collar. 

"She said get the fuck out! Maurice!" the janitor bellowed and before she knew it they were at it. Lorelai turned around wide-eyed. She swallowed as she slowly walked back to the bar. She made it to the back trying to ignore the situation as she calmly dropped off the empty glasses. She took a deep breath before slowly walking back out. She hugged her tray as the ghosts were brawling through the bar slowly heading towards the exit. 

Some tables slightly shook but most patrons didn't notice. Maurice pushed the janitor onto a table before attacking once more. The table merely shook as they rolled off towards a person sitting nearby the guy felt nothing as he blindly reached for their beer but the janitor accidentally swiped the beer as he tried to hold on to something and not fall to the floor. The man's beer swept off the table with a clash. Lorelai closed her eyes. ❝Uhhh...shit,❞ she breathed out as Phyllis heard it.

"Damn it!" she let out. "Someone call Pat from the back to clean up the mess," she uttered to Gloria who nodded. She looked around and noticed Lorelai who was staring off into space. "Lorelai you need to get back out there!" she noted as she pointed to the mess. Lorelai glanced over and nodded. 

She made her way to the patron whose bill was spilled. ❝Hey looks like you had an accident,❞ she greeted, smiling.

"Yeah... I don't know what happened. It was like my beer flew off the table!" he said shocked. Lorelai smiled brightly tilting her head. 

❝Oh, you know, old places,❞ she replied. ❝Would you like another? What did you have?❞  

"Eh... I guess..." he said bringing out his wallet. "I had a Coors," he responded. Lorelai nodded. 

❝Got it and someone will be right over to clean up the mess,❞ she replied. She headed to the bar as a guy with a mop and dustpan came over instead. ❝The guy said he wants a Coors,❞ she said towards Phyllis a bit lowly. ❝Uh... he said the beer just flew from the table,❞ she added looking anywhere but at her. Phyllis nodded.

"Yeah my ass," Phyllis said but started bringing out a newly opened bottle. "Make sure to pick up the change," she said. Lorelai nodded and headed out to exchange goods. The guy paid Lorelai for his new beer as she dropped it off. She was heading out to a nearby table taking orders, ignoring the two ghosts who were still brawling, hoping they would just end soon. She took note of their orders and started heading back when suddenly she felt a strong pull of energy. She paused shocked. 

CRASH!

The window towards her left shattered. Lorelai noticed the two ghosts were now outside on the sidewalks still going at it as people in the area panicked with confusion. Confused to why a window just shattered out of nowhere. Lorelai ran towards the exit and ran out shocked as they continued to fight. ❝What are you guys doing!?❞ she whispered with gritted teeth. They soon started to tire. The man named Maurice pushed the Janitor off of him with one last blow as he began to dust himself off. 

"I get it! I get it...get off of me!" he said angrily. 

"Now you stay the fuck out you bastard!" the Janitor said getting to his feet and pointing at him, winded. The ghost named Maurice wobbled backing away to the street. 

"It ain't matter what you think... I'm always commin' back... I'm always-" Suddenly a car honked, its headlights lighting him up briefly before passing through him. The ghost named Maurice's visage had changed. He now looked half-bloodied, his clothes slightly torn, his arm and neck dislocated. The janitor started laughing, holding his belly, as if it was the most hilarious thing in the world. Maurice finally faded and the Janitor too, their energy spent for the most part as Lorelai sighed in confusion. The world of the living suddenly rushing to her as the sounds of curious people reached her ears. 

[paraphysics]

“ I can drop them off tomorrow. ” he offered. his shoulders shrugging and dropping in such an insouciant way. the other immediately placed a hand on tom’s arm, protesting with a ‘ no you don’t have to do that ’ it was obvious to the investigator that this was a cordial knee - jerk reaction. kevin was the sort of guy who wouldn’t care either way. “ it’s fine. ”

“ You sure ? ” tom’s teeth appeared, incredulous of the man’s dedication to supposed geniality “ yeah. ” he murmured through his smile. kevin was about to say something else — possibly express his excited gratitude, when a bucket of beers appeared between the two of them with a heavy ᴛʜᴜɴᴋ. the bartender — phyllis, grunted something along the lines of ‘ here you go ’ or ‘ enjoy. ’ kevin reciprocated with a wave and some cheerful words. before grabbing the handle of the bucket of beers he pat tom on the back one more time and assured him he’d leave a generous tip and glowing review.

ꜰᴜɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴄʀᴀꜱʜɪɴɢ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ’ꜱ ꜰɪɴᴀɴᴄɪᴀʟ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇꜱ … a gentle flutter fell from buckley’s parted lips. a laugh that vanished into a sort of exhale. he took another drink and laid his folded arms on the counter - top, eyes resting on the stage, though his gaze remained focused on a screen of unsettled thoughts.

ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴀɴ ʜᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ : a cloud of cold vapor crawled out of the mouth of stained glass. another bottle of yuenling, just - opened, gasped humid bar air. ꜱᴡᴇᴀᴛ. buckley’s eyes zeroed in on a golden cap dancing next to his coaster — 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 — this show was more interesting than the woman leaning backwards and tactfully switching her crossed legs on - stage. phyllis drew back, sharing a moment of eye contact with her patron as she tossed a bottle opener to the side.

𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧. s𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮’𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 — 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙩𝙖𝙗. 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙮 — 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙮 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨, 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙤’𝙙 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙.

what set phyllis apart from most who were perceptive in this way was the subtle ways in which she communicated her understanding of one’s character back to a customer.

her dark eyes narrowed with a look of sober recognition — some might mistake the face as one that is critical. and to some degree, maybe it is. this one doesn’t seem like the type to cause trouble. better leave him be. — she drew back from the liquor - logged countertop the way an animal would intuitively avoid a poisonous fruit. not that his presence posed a threat in any way. it’s just that, sometimes, even the most benign and affectaceous of small talk can lead to a series of unceasing questions and paradoxes.

what does a series of paradoxes add up to. ᴢᴇʀᴏ ? Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ : ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ᴅʀᴜɢ. the investigator’s pale eyes sank down towards the golden cap. it lay still now. he picked it up and turned it over so that it’s branded face rested against the side of his index finger while he pressed his thumb along a series of rough, aluminum, pleats. he pocketed it. rising from his stool — one hand holding the neck of a beer bottle, the other tucked away in his blazer pocket. the mood of the place was starting to get a little too chaotic and what tom wanted was quiet and fresh air. though stepping outside didn’t make much of a difference.

it was similarly humid outdoors, and his quiet lasted just long enough for him to study a row of gas lamps lining the brick street of the french quarter. 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩.

a startling crash shook him from his thoughts. buckley’s head whipped towards the left of the bar - front where glass scattered freely on the ground. his brow furrowed and he turned towards the door — 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 ? he reached a hand towards the door to investigate, but instead it whipped open on its own. he stepped out of the way of that girl from before. she hurried out towards the curb and began shouting.

not at him. out towards the street. tom’s pursed his lips, perplexed. he approached her cautiously, the souls of his dark sneakers gently crunching glass as he crossed towards the street. “ hey. ” he bid gently, “ I’m sorry about your window. guess the door was a little heavier than I … expected.” he cringed and extended his yuenling back towards the bar.