Clayton Weiss is DEAD @theghostofagentweiss - Tumblr Blog

Sending love to Clay because shhh he's not dead he's just sleeping for an extremely extended period of time.

[Wow. This got sent last year and I somehow never saw it.

But hey, Nonnie! You're in luck! Your love has brought Clay back to life! He's walking the streets of New York as we speak, entirely not dead for some unknown reason!

It must have been you, dear Nonnie! Thanks!]

agentkristiweimaer

Kristi had to smile sadly. She knew what it was like to lose a close family member with no warning and the road out of that hell was never easy. His asking her was very kind and a way of deflecting a bit, she was sure.

“Me? I’m doing well enough. I wanted to call and check in on you and Gruber. I promised Clay I’d do a couple things for him and I’m trying to keep my promises. I wanted to ask…do you think it’d be possible for me to come down and visit you both for a little while on Halloween? I know it’s short notice but I won’t stay long, I just need to do this for him.”

That was possibly the most non-creepy and true way to get this whole thing accomplished. And if not, she’d just try on her own, sans pupper.

theghostofagentweiss

Roman paused for what felt like a full minute after hearing her vague description. She wanted to stop by their place. For something Clay asked her to do for him. His dead brother. On Halloween?

"Ok, I will allow a séance but I draw the line at raising him from the dead as a zombie or a ritualistic sacrifice of any kind. I just had the carpets shampooed and I'm not dealing with goat blood again this year."

And just like that, it was clear that Roman was Clay's brother.

#agentkristiweimaer

apostolicattilan

You look more dead than I do.

Well, that was...not at all reassuring.

Owen tilted his head as he watched Clay enter as if waiting for something to potentially happen. After a moment though, he seemed satisfied and followed, gently closing the door behind them.

His brow raised when Clay swore but didn't feel the need to comment when it was so quickly corrected.

"I was quite aware of your death, having led the funeral," Owen pointed out gently.

Wait, ghost? He opened his mouth to ask about it but stopped as Clay continued. It could wait. Clay sounded like he needed some sort of guidance, or at least reassurance. Not surprising.

The priest cleared his throat before speaking. "That sounds like a lot to process," he said softly. "But I wouldn't call it 'nuts'. I'd agree that there was a purpose you were brought back for. Possibly for some sort of closure?" Whether that meant for Clay or someone else, he couldn't tell.

Owen turned and gestured for Clay to follow him into the kitchen area. A warm drink and somewhere to sit seemed like a good idea that would benefit them both.

theghostofagentweiss

"No, I know. I was there. I was just... Well, I meant I didn't like... fake my death or anything. First of all, I'm not nearly smart enough to pull that off, and second, I would have taken my dog with me at least."

Clay gasped suddenly, remembering he could go see his dog.

But that would also mean he'd have to sneak passed his brother and he wasn't ready for that reunion just yet, if ever.

"Nah, I did the whole closure thing. That was my ghost era tour. Said goodbye to my boyfriend, let my brother know I was ok, visited my dog, walked back from Canada and took down a terrorist. It was a whole mood. This... This is different. I'm... alive. I was feel. Breathe. I'm hungry. It's agonizing and so wonderful." Clay was momentarily overwhelmed with emotion over the feeling of just being. He had to wipe his eyes and look away before he could even think of continuing.

#apostolicattilan

infiniitefrequency

That elicited a snort, "Alright ... touché."

Hartley turned to look, before realizing he had no idea where that was, "I-"

Pulling his phone out, "I'm not a local, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say pizza place?" fingers swiped quickly, before turning his phone, "If that's where you mean, then yes, you're going the right way."

theghostofagentweiss

"It's a burger and pizza place, but if their eggplant parmesan was a person I'd marry it. It's that good. Highly recommend."

Clay leaned closer to the phone and squinted. Shit, did he need glasses?

"Yeah, that's the place. Thank you! I... I was a local. Sort of. Not sure what I am now."

#infiniitefrequency

apostolicattilan

"This?" Owen responded, gesturing towards Clay. "No. This is not normal at all, as far as I am aware."

He shook his head. "While it is nice being able to talk casually, I would not say I'm not phased at all by this. More like... what's the term they use...? Screaming internally?"

There was a hint of a smile, showing that while, yes, he was in fact a bit unnerved by the situation he was just trying to play into the humour he knew Weiss for in the past, rather than actually being terrified. That and he was trying to show he was different, a bit more laid back and personable, instead of simply friendly, but barely connected to the world outside the church doors.

"I can answer questions," The priest said, though he cringed at the observation. "That noticeable is it?"

He started walking back towards the church, motioning for Clay to follow before explaining. "I do actually sleep plenty. Too much for my liking really- I've... not been well. But that, is a bit of a boring topic and doesn't answer your other questions," he said with a shrug.

Once the reached the rectory beside the church, Owen paused, taking a moment to look up at St Patrick's reverently before turning back to Clay.

"After you?" he said, holding open the rectory door.

theghostofagentweiss

Maaaaan, he was such a cool priest.

Screaming internally? Clay couldn't help but brighten up and smile like an idiot.

"Yeah, man. You look more dead than I do. And I am." He commented as he walked. When they were securely inside the church and officially in what Clay would consider sacred secret keeping space, he scratched the back of his head and looked back to the priest.

"I guess I should go first." Clay sighed, stepping into the rectory but waiting for Owen to follow before continuing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. I wasn't expecting to run into anyone I knew til I had more answers but... To get it out in the open, I DID die. I was dead for... I'm not sure how long actually. Death really sort of... fucks with y--FUDGES... with your perception of... well, everything. I was a ghost for a while. That sucked. Don't recommend it. Now I'm..." Clay paused, looking around. He felt everything. He was solid. He was hungry. He had allergies. He could breathe in air and feel his lungs filling. He was warm.

He'd almost forgotten what being alive felt like.

"I don't really know how I'm here or why. I just am and I know there's a reason. I just can't... articulate it yet. Am I crazy? Does that sound nuts?"

#apostolicattilan

shieldagentburr

There was that familiar voice again. Perturbed, Burr glanced around the shop, trying to figure out where it could be coming from. Her eyes glanced over the few people inside the shop, then quickly did a double take at the man standing by the tins. That--it couldn't be. Her weak heart did a stuttered thump as she looked at him. The man looked nearly identical to her friend, which only brought that sorrowful feeling up from her depths. She hadn't realized how much she had missed seeing Clay's face until she saw his doppelganger standing there. Perhaps this was some sort of sign from the universe.

"Excuse me," she said to the waitress when she brought her tea. She pointed a careful finger over towards him. "Whatever that man wants to buy--don't let him pay for it. Put it on my tab instead."

The waitress nodded, happily agreeing to her terms before turning away. Each peppy step she took towards the man to inform him of his free range of items made Burr feel slightly better than before. Her eyes drifted closed a moment as she brought the teacup up to her lips, silently savoring her moment of peace and patting herself on the back for her good deed of the day.

theghostofagentweiss

"Burrito?"

The voice cut through her peace like a knife.

After being informed a stranger was paying for his purchases Clay followed back to where the waitress had come from. He'd been expecting, maybe a little too hopefully, that it was from a hottie trying to flirt with him. Even as a dead man he still got it, right? Instead, he found himself gasping her nickname before he could even stop himself.

Noooo nononono, why was his luck so shit that moments after deciding he didn't want to see his old friends he saw one of his old friends? Instinctively he turned toward the door to flee but he stopped after one step as he felt the ache in his heart. He missed Burr something fierce. She'd been the only one who had truly listened to him and felt truly invested in his well-being. Germaine tried, Clay knew he did, but as an android he didn't have the knack for it Clay needed at the time. He didn't have the humanity yet. All nerves. That last talk Clay had with Burr kept him warm and loved since he'd left that world behind. Returning to it, seeing her again, kept his feet rooted.

He turned back to her, an apology in his eyes for the shock of his appearance.

Maybe he'd been drawn to her just as he had been to Father Flanigan. Maybe he was meant to reconnect with the people in his old life. He hadn't exactly been given a manual on how this worked yet.

"How... bout them Braves, huh?" He offered a nervous chuckle but it quickly spiraled. "I don't actually know who's playing. I've... been dead. Um. Hi."

Fuck.

#shieldagentburr

apostolicattilan

Owen couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he drew his hand back. Presumably, he hadn't been around long, given the way he'd asked about the date, so what on earth made him look so guilty?

It might not have been entirely appropriate, but the priest found himself laughing. "Surely I'm not so scary that you feel you've done something wrong as soon as you see me?" he asked. Normally, he was much more formal with parishioners, or at least he had been when he'd last known Clay.

"Forgive me," he said afterwards. "It's been uh, odd, in recent times, so seeing you of all people-"

Owen paused, taking a moment to think of how to phrase what he wanted to. He gave up and instead added, "Well, you look well." The expression on his face, though, clearly read 'what the hell is going on here?'.

But the middle of the street wasn't exactly the appropriate place to question the young man anyway. Owen glanced back towards the church briefly. "How about we catch up over a warm drink?" he suggested gently.

theghostofagentweiss

Clay felt as though he had been caught committing a crime. Like he had intentionally faked his death and was suddenly busted for it by his priest of all people.

"Do... Ok. Wait." He pressed his hands together at his lips in thought before gesturing them toward Father Flanigan. "Is this normal for you? Is being a priest way cooler than I thought it was? I mean, I know Jesus rose from the dead and all, OG, but you're not even... This isn't even phasing you."

He stared a moment more, mouth open in awe, before he shrugged and followed him. "Yeah, let's do it. Paint me a picture of your life over some cider. I got questions. Mostly of concern though. You ok, man? You don't look like you're getting sleep. We are definitely circling back to your well-being after you tell me how real zombies are."

#apostolicattilan

retrotvblr

I Dream of Jeannie My Master, the Ghostbreaker | 3.21

#sad ghost club

theghostofagentweiss

It's strange what little things you take for granted in every day life.

Clay stood on the street of New York, eyes cast up at one of the tall buildings around him. There was nothing remarkable about that particular building. He didn't know what was inside it, who was inside it, or what they did. The structure itself wasnt anything unique to him. It was just the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes again.

He breathed in, air filling his lungs. He flexed his toes and felt the warmth of his socks and the tightness of the shoes around them. His hand clutched a small object in his pocket, savoring the cold metal feel of it against his skin. He smelled the faint scent of hot dogs from a cart a few blocks over. He heard people honking their horns. He felt a man's shoulder collide with his as he passed, pissed that he was just standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring up.

It had been 5 years since Clay had felt... Anything. Even these little things, these small wonders, meant the world to him. The last thing he physically felt was pain and for an entire year after that all he felt emotionally was loneliness. Regret. Guilt. Being back, he hoped, things would be different.

But fuck, was he hungry. Not having eaten in 5 years really did a number on him, he joked to himself, a smile curling on his lips. Classic Clay. Good to joke again.

He pulled his eyes away from the building above him and looked around. He knew this street. It was kind of them to drop him off somewhere familiar, though all else fails he would have just followed his nose to that hot dog cart.

"You there, boy!" Clay asked, using his best dickensian accent as he grabbed a man's arm. He wanted to ceize the opportunity to touch someone for the first time again and chose a particular scene to use it for. "What day is it?"

The man, startled, stopped and stared at Clay. He looked him up and down, then down at the hand on his arm, hoping Clay would remove it, but the young man was far too dedicated to the bit to take the hint. "September 23rd?"

"Then I haven't missed it!" Clay shouted joyfully, releasing his captive and giving him a fond smile and a pat on the shoulder. He was happy he got someone to play along with his ridiculous antics. It had been quite a while.

Having satisfied his need to recreate iconic movie scenes, Clayton Weiss went to satisfy his hunger. He needed to find something worthy of the honor of being his first meal since returning to the land of the living.

infiniitefrequency

God New York got more and more crowded every time he visited. If it wasn't for the business he had to handle in the city, he likely wouldn't come. Which was an absolute lie. The food, the shows, hell, he flew down every year for fashion week alone.

And every year he toyed with the idea of moving without ever pulling the trigger. Perhaps it was the crime, or the garbage smell ...

Or perhaps it was the strange vagrants who populated the streets. Brows furrowed, fully judging the oddest mop of blonde hair recite the ending of A Christmas Carol four months too early.

Truly a unique town if ever there was one.

"You know-" Head tilted, trademark smirk plastered on his lips, "Usually panhandlers have a little cup when they're performing. Unless this is a medical emergency and I need to call for your carer."

Hartley Rathaway was nothing if not- no, no he wasn't tactful either.

theghostofagentweiss

"I think when I do it it's Bi-handling." Clay shrugged casually at the random, and rather catty, unsolicited comment. He smirked at his little joke, unable to keep from voicing it, and pointed down the road.

"Is Big Nick's still that way or am I turned around?"

#infiniitefrequency #can't cut sorry

shieldagentburr

@theghostofagentweiss

It wasn't often that Burr ignored direct orders from her colleagues, but this was a special occasion. Leaving her frustrated doctor back in Medical, she slowly made her way out of the building, hoping she'd be able to run all her errands in time. She had tradition to uphold. Every year since his passing, Burr tried her best to celebrate her friend's memory, choosing to pass joy along instead of focusing on the sorrow in her heart. She'd try a new meal, something she never would have even looked at if he hadn't challenged her tastes. Afterwards, she'd find the happiest looking flower at the flower stand and take it down to the bar she'd visit every so often, placing it amongst other memorabilia on the wall of others recalling their loved ones and friends. Lastly, she'd order her usual drink along with a vastly inappropriately named one, telling the bartender to pass the latter onto whomever looked the happiest that night. He had always been a friendly, bright man. It seemed right to share that with others.

Her detour to the doctor threw off her regular schedule, forcing her to hit the flower shop first. The yellow gerbera she picked sat on the small cafe table in front of her, a small printed menu with "grilled catfish" circle around it holding it in place. Her dinner reservation wasn't for another hour, so Burr had stopped at her favorite tea place to enjoy a quiet cup of tea before her meal. But it wasn't entirely quiet. She could have sworn for a second she had actually heard Clay's voice somewhere, but quickly buried the thought away. She had to have been imagining things again.

After all, what were the chances of catching a dead man before dinner?

theghostofagentweiss

Germaine had always loved tea. He remembered rattling around his apartment as a ghost, admiring his tea pots and cups and trying not to break them with his clumsy ghost hands. The memory made him a bit sad, however. He wasn't sure he should see his old friends from his bygone life. Being a ghost had sent Ray into a spiraling depression. He wanted nothing to do with him. Didn't listen to him. Didn't want him around but got mad when he left. Their once comfort seeking relationship had turned so toxic so quickly. He didn't want him returning from the dead to cause anymore hurt and confusion.

He wasn't even sure how to explain it yet.

So instead of visiting Germaine himself, clay tried to imagine what his apartment had smelled like by ducking into a shop. After all, he didn't have a sense of smell as a ghost. This was the closest he would get without seeing Germaine. At least, that was his logic.

He had time before he got to where he needed to be that afternoon. He could stop and smell the wet leaves.

"Dandelion tea?" Clay read the side of a tin out loud. "Why do I feel like this would be my jam?" Should he buy it? Shit, did he have money?

#shieldagentburr #can't cut. on phone