Hello, hello! I decided to write something silly for a change of pace from sadness and emotion that I'd been writing lately. Thus, I picked this ridiculous prompt and ran with it. Hopefully y'all'll enjoy!

Prompt: You are ghost trying their best NOT to be scary while trapped in a subburban home. You are horribly clumbsy though and the family is starting to notice the things you knock over and the "ooooooOOOOuu's" in the night as you stub your toes again and again

Yang couldn't really remember when she died, nor could she remember the moment she became a ghost. It didn't bother her per se, but she was curious. Who wouldn't want to know how they died?

Her death was one of the many things she pondered as she floated about an empty house. It looked like she was smack in the middle of suburbia from what she could see out the windows, and all of the hardwood floors and spacious rooms indicated it was a rather high-end house. She was sure the place hadn't been her house before she died; her family wasn't poor, but they definitely couldn't afford to live in a house this unnecessarily large. How she ended up haunting the place, she'd likely never know.

She tried to figure out how many days passed with her floating around the house aimlessly, but without clocks and the lack of a need to sleep, the days seemed to blend together.

It wasn't until what she could assume was weeks later that a woman in a crisp business suit came into the house, a clipboard in hand and a few men in tow. From the way she'd point into the various rooms and occasionally scribble things down onto a notepad, Yang could only assume she was a realtor or something of the like.

Her suspicions were confirmed days later when a truck appeared outside, the back stuffed with furniture, plants, and every other knick-knack needed to stage a house for selling.

Furniture was something that Yang hadn't initially worried about when she had floated through the empty house, but to her surprise –and horror—her incorporeal form was able to affect objects around her.

In other words, she could knock things off the walls or off of tables if she "touched" them.

What kind of half-assed ghost am I? That's some serious bullshit.

Yang hadn't noticed it so much when there was nothing to affect, but once all the furniture had gone in, she realized that she had very little control of her flight path. She didn't even have a sense of how it actually worked. She just sort of… floated to wherever she wanted to go. The only problem was that now that there was furniture, her lack of control was actually a problem.

She'd only found out of her effect on the mortal realm when she'd knocked a lamp off of a table. She had tried to pick it up, but the only thing she could do was roll the thing around uselessly.

Even worse than that, for some reason, she could get hurt by objects that she bumped into.

The walls and such were fine, but Yang suspected that the furniture –which hadn't been there when she turned into a ghost—was able to hurt her because it wasn't specifically tied to the house. As a matter of consequence, her flight path led to many a stubbed toe and bruises.

This is the biggest load of bullshit I've ever seen. What kind of a ghost gets hurt?

When the realtor lady had come the next day, Yang felt a bit guilty as she watched the woman search the house for possible intruders or a stray animal that had somehow gotten inside and knocked the lamp over. She was on the hunt for something she would never find. Of course, when she did indeed fail to find anything, the lamp was replaced and the showings went on as planned.

Family after family came by, and to avoid causing any scares (and damage to herself), Yang had elected to stay in the attic until they all left. It was only long after the sun had set that she was free to float about again, though she tried to be more careful.

It turned out that Yang simply couldn't be "careful" as a ghost, no matter how much she tried.

She still had little-to-no control over her flight path despite spending many days trying to train herself to fly properly, and of course, that led to more and more objects getting knocked from their places and more and more stubbed toes.

She would have screamed if she hadn't found out early on that any vocalization whatsoever would be transmitted. The unearthly quality that came with her colorful exclamations of pain had nearly scared her to death.

She couldn't help herself from snickering at her own jokes though.

Seriously though, if this were a game, I'd be the worst character in it. I wanna have a word with Death or whatever dumbass thought this was a good idea.

Every time the blonde realtor lady with the glasses came in, Yang sent a silent apology her way. She looked like she was getting gray hairs from all the stress.

On a particular day, the woman entered the house, though with a man sporting gray hair and dark glasses in tow.

"I just don't get it, Ozpin," she exclaimed, gesturing at yet another lamp that had been knocked over for the umpteenth time. "Every time I come to this house, there's always something knocked over! I've checked for animals and other pests that could have gotten in and I've checked for signs of entry from everywhere in the house and I still can't figure out why things keep getting knocked over!"

The man, Ozpin apparently, chuckled around a travel mug of what was likely coffee. "Perhaps there's a ghost here, Glynda?"

Glynda frowned sharply. "Please be serious! Ghosts only exist in fiction!"

Yang nearly burst into laughter, but managed to choke it down.

Ozpin seemed to find it just as amusing, if his growing grin was anything to go by. "Now, now! There's no reason to be so upset. Even if there are ghosts, I don't believe we need to make such a fuss over things. If you've determined that there is nothing that could have gotten in and done this, then we must simply chalk this whole thing up to being a series of accidents."

Glynda pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, seemingly forcing her frustration down with a tired sigh. "If you say so."

"Good. Now please prepare for the next showing. The sooner you sell this house, the sooner your frustrations will disappear," he said with a rather cheshire smile. With a glance up to the attic, he left the house, Glynda hot on his heels.

If Yang hadn't known any better, she would have thought that Ozpin guy knew she was there. But there was no way.

…Right?

It was only a week later that the staging furniture was removed and new, more permanent furniture replaced it. Yang gulped as she watched movers bring in items that looked as if they costed more than what she would have ever made in a full lifetime. Staging furniture was one thing, but priceless antiques and designer furniture were a whole different ball game.

If she could sweat, she would have been.

The day after all the fancy furniture went in, the family of five followed after it, their seemingly-natural white hair standing out like a beacon as they stood in the doorway, assessing their new living situation.

Yang was glad she had elected to stay in the attic for the night. The less opportunities she had to break something, the better.

"It seems the movers didn't break anything," the man observed, his moustache twitching.

"We took quite the risk hiring such low-grade workers," the eldest woman said with a huff, readjusting the furs around her shoulders as she did so.

The man nearly growled. "It was the most cost-effective option, Willow. Do not bring up that which has already been settled."

"That's rich coming from you," the shortest girl in the group whispered, doing little to hide her obvious frustration. She rolled her eyes as she removed her boots and headed up the stairs.

"Where are you going, young lady?" the man barked, redirecting his ire at his daughter.

"To my room."

Weiss Schnee groaned as she entered her new room, everything already in place. She had been against the idea of moving out to Vale from Atlas, but like every other thing she tried to voice to her parents, her protests were ignored.

She flopped onto the bed, too irritated to enjoy the plush feeling of the comforter. Winter had agreed with her on the issue of moving, but even her opinion hardly mattered when she would be moving into her university dorm within a couple weeks. Of course, Whitley hadn't had a complaint, but he never did when it came to something their parents wanted.

Little brat.

She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling like it would give her all the answers.

Suddenly, something like a figure appeared in her vision. She bolted upright, focusing on the spot with a new intensity.

Obviously, there was nothing there, but for some reason she swore that she had seen something. She decided that her eyes were simply playing tricks on her after a long day, and she left the matter alone, laughing at herself for being so ridiculous.

I'm being ridiculous. There's no such things as ghosts.

Later that night, long after the family had gone to bed, they woke with a start. A crash in one of the rooms had startled them followed by a wail that seemed to almost reverberate throughout the house.

Willow practically threw her husband out of their bedroom before slamming the door behind him. "You take care of it, Jacques!"

Jacques himself pounded at the door. "Let me in! Don't you dare leave me out here to face whatever is in the house, you crazy woman!"

Winter, Weiss, and Whitley stumbled out of their rooms then, the sisters exchanging a tired, irritated look before heading off down the stairs, ignoring Whitley's attempts to coax his father into his room for safety.

Winter grabbed one of the sabers mounted along the wall, leading the way with Weiss trailing along behind her. She'd be damned if she let her little sister face an intruder alone. With that thought, she crept through the house silently, her eyes peeled for any signs of forced entry or a figure still in the house.

The two entered the living room, spotting a lamp knocked from one of the end tables surprisingly intact, the table itself was knocked askew.

Weiss bent down to inspect, not noticing any scuff marks or any other noticeable evidence left behind by the perpetrator. She looked to Winter then, shaking her head silently.

The elder of the two seemed to understand, gesturing for Weiss to follow after her as they resumed their search throughout the house.

After several minutes of searching, nothing turned up. No windows were broken, no sign of the doors ever having been open, nothing was stolen, and everything else was in its place. They could only conclude that nothing had gotten into the house.

"What do you suppose happened?" Weiss asked when they completed their search, understanding it was likely safe to talk again.

Winter hummed, her brow furrowed. "Normally I would say that the lamp simply fell over on accident, but the wailing we heard after that has me baffled. What on earth could have made that sound?"

The younger sister shrugged, looking around the house. "I've never heard anything like it before. It…" she paused, glancing out the window. "It couldn't have been the wind, could it?"

Winter looked out the window as well, shaking her head as the trees remained still in the night. "The weather didn't predict a storm, and there's no wind now. Perhaps it was a neighbor's pet or something."

"Yes, it was most likely a pet. Obviously," she said, latching on to the explanation. Some kind of explanation was better than no explanation, no matter how farfetched it sounded. And it was certainly better than a supernatural one.

I really hope this stupid house isn't haunted.

Winter nodded. "Well then, now that the matter is settled, let's head back to bed. We can fix the mess tomorrow."

The trudged up the stairs, the adrenaline leaving their system left them tired as Winter put the saber back in its rightful place. When they reached their rooms, she cleared her throat.

"One of the lamps fell over and the howl that we heard was a neighbor's dog. Everything is fine, so you can all go to sleep."

Jacques left Whitley's room with a growl, reentering his own with a glare aimed directly at his wife. The sisters returned to their rooms far less animatedly, simply bidding each other a quiet "goodnight."

Weiss crawled into her bed and pulled the covers back up to her chin. Her eyes practically bore holes into the ceiling for a moment before she turned onto her side with a frustrated huff.

Seriously. There had better not be any damn ghosts in this house.

And with that, she drifted back off to sleep.

From her spot in the attic, Yang let out a breath, or at least mimed the action since she didn't exactly breathe.

That was close. I'm gonna have to be more careful from now on.

I didn't plan to make this a multi-chapter fic, but I realized it's gonna be way too long for a single chapter. In other words, welcome to another one of my stories. I'm going to try to finish up this one relatively quickly. I don't want it to take any time away from any of my other stuff. Also, I'm back in school, so I'm going to try and figure out my update schedule so that I don't get overwhelmed or burnt out. As I promised earlier, AJAR will be resuming at the end of September. Until next time~!