#messages from the ouija board
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i'm making fool (a 17th/18th century english custard thing) for a holiday work thing and nothing brings me greater joy than all of the sentences in the recipe that have "the fool" in them, but this one especially.
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MC: *holding a ouija board*
Rollo: ...
Rollo: Absolutely NOT.
MC: Come on. This is just a ouija board and why do you have it on campus anyway if we're not gonna play it?
Rollo: You're insane. I had hoped you were different from those troublesome mages who seem to thrive on chaos.
MC: Ouch.
MC: So you don't really want to play?
Rollo: No.
MC: ...
MC: Okay. I'm just going to play it alone. Mwehehehe! *and took off*
Rollo: You little-
MC: I thought you didn't want to play?
Rollo: *ended up chasing after them* Hmph. I'd feel accountable if anything were to occur to you or Noble Bell College.
MC: Really? Dang. Your hypocrisy runs deep.
Rollo: *glares*
MC: Pft- Just kidding. So what should we ask first?
Rollo: I don't know. Whatever suits you.
MC: Huh. Okay. Oh benevolent and mischievous spirits!
Rollo: ...
Rollo: Why are you calling for mischievous spirits?
MC: You said whatever suits me?
Rollo: *frowns*
MC: *clears throat* Are you here?
*The planchette moves to 'Yes'.*
MC: *claps happily*
Rollo: *sigh*
Ace: Uh... What is the Prefect doing?
Rollo: *sigh* They successfully called the "Thorn Fairy".
Ace: ...
MC: Ma'am! Marry me, please!
Maleficent: *seemingly flattered by the gesture* *gives them a head pat*
MC: *turns to look at Rollo with pure bliss*
Rollo: ...
Rollo: Is this your friend?
Ace: *laughs* Yeah.
Malleus: *received a text message from his child of man*
'Mal, the Thorn Fairy is so mommy. 🥺💚 - MC'
Malleus: ...
Malleus: Lilia? What does "so mommy" mean?
Lilia: *from across the room* I- What?
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Back to Eden
Request: ✨anon—You and the gang investigate a haunted mansion and the reader is targeted after a joke is made that she looks like the wife in old photos. Medium/Doppleganger trope as well.
Summary: Something about Colby caught your attention, and it’s confirmed when you all learn too much about the afterlife when he brings you to investigate a murder at a haunted estate. How hard can a soul bond love?
Warnings: Murder, Vomiting, Reincarnation, Mediums, Ouija Board use, Light Angst, Soulmates trope, Colby x Reader smut, Unprotected sex, very light Dom/Sub dynamic, and Possessive Romantic Relationship/behavior
Words: 13.5k
No Y/N Used
Title is from ‘Take Me Back to Eden’ by Sleep Token
It started the day we met.
There was no room in my head to even question whether it was strange or not. Every crevice of my mind filled with him. It was fine. That was it; fine. I didn’t allow myself anything more than a skip of a heartbeat here and a blush there. Nothing more.
Only once did I allow myself to think of him as I fell asleep, but that was because we literally fell asleep hip to hip. It wasn’t anything more than necessary though. It was during an investigation and there were two beds for the five of us to sleep on unless we slept on the floor. Due to complications, we lost our second room that night, and we were too afraid to sleep separated anyway. I was on the edge of the bed, Colby in the middle, and Sam on his other side while Nate and Seth were in the other one.
And if I woke up curled around his arm and he woke up facing me sharing a pillow, we didn’t say anything about it.
I didn’t know what it was. The only logical answer was that we easily clicked. We got along fluently, and the first time we met in person, we talked about everything and cried laughing by the end of the night. I couldn’t shake this feeling, though. And it was a dangerous one.
When I looked him in the eyes the first time, it felt like I knew him.
I chalked it up to him simply being who he was. In every way, he was my type—if I even had one—so technically, anyone who looked like him could have given me these feelings. However, I knew people and had friends who looked similar to him. None of them ever made me feel a fraction of how he did.
Perhaps the morality of cognitive dissonance could have an exception.
Colby, four days ago while I coincidentally was at a tattoo appointment, messaged me:
What are you doing next week?
So, naturally, I responded:
Wow I said no more snaps and you still send selfies
He sent a rolling eyes emoji. And then:
See, the problem with no snaps is now you don’t send photos back
So I said:
Maybe that isn’t the problem but the entire point smh
What do you want from me next week?
Your appearance in a video, he replied.
Perhaps
Perhaps?
I have a lot going on
Lmao no you don’t
Excuse me? Yes I do
What are you doing in four days?
You’ve given me so much room to creatively respond to that
Bitch, what plans do you have?
To make sure I can still walk by the end of this week
???
Ten minutes later, he followed up the question marks with:
What does that mean?
What a concerning thing to say and then leave me on read, he sent.
Finally when my tattoo was finished, I sent him a selfie back.
Impatient much?
Ohhhh, he replied.
Jfc did you purposely get it in one of the most painful places?
Yes now what do you want from me next week?
We’re going to a haunted estate in Texas and we want you to come
Oh? Where in Texas?
Outside of Austin
My heart skipped at the thought. That was where we first met. I was from Texas, and there was a party for content creators I was invited to despite being smaller. I met Sam and Colby and a lot of their friends. I still remembered not minding the humid summer night as much as I typically did.
Oh okay so you want me to come
I mean yeah, we all did
Mhm sure
What are you talking about?
Funny how you’re going to Austin and you want me to come
Funny how you’re making a it a big deal
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hold down my smile. I sat in my car, and even though the back of my knee ached with pain, it was almost numbed by the words staring back at me.
Aw if you wanted me to come with you guys on an investigation to the city we met in of course I’d say yes, how sweet
Nvm. Fuck you
I sent a heart emoji back.
He sent a middle finger emoji.
Buy me a plane ticket.
‘Colby Liked your message’
I went home with jittery hands and a beat in my step. I didn’t even have coffee yet.
It happened simultaneously. After my career took off a couple months after the party in Austin, I moved to Los Angeles to be with my best friends. Sam and Colby, two weeks prior, moved to Las Vegas. I gave them so much shit for it, but everyone knew that the girls I lived with were my main priority.
I never planned to live with anyone; I liked my own private space. But somehow these freaks changed my mind.
As I packed my bag—my flight was in a little over an hour and I hadn’t packed yet, how on brand for me—Tara lounged in my bed.
”Don’t you have your own shit to do?” I asked.
”Maybe,” she sighed pathetically. “But your bed is so comfy and your room is so clean.”
”Yeah my bed is comfy because I don’t have a bunch of shit on it.” She gasped.
”That was mean.”
”How many pairs of shoes did you sleep with last night?” She gave me the finger. “There’s your answer.”
”I can’t believe you’re leaving us for a bunch of boys.”
”Same,” I sighed. “But you know how fun these trips are to me.”
”Yeah. Sometimes I forget how much of a freak you are.”
”Uh, I’m not a freak. A spiritual nerd? Perhaps. But not a freak.” She laughed and lay back against the pillows.
“You met them in Austin, right?”
”Yes,” I said cautiously.
”And Colby asked you to come with them back to Austin?”
”Yes,” I exasperated now. “What’s wrong with that?”
”Nothing,” she shrugged. “I was just wondering when you and Colby were going on a date.”
”Oh my god.” I rolled my eyes as I zipped my suitcase before standing it up. “God forbid a woman be close friends with a man without wanting to fuck him.”
“And you have you lying eyes on.”
”My lying—Bitch, these are just my eyes!”
”And they’re fucking lying.”
”You’re an idiot. I need to go.”
”At least tell me when you guys get together.”
Finally, it was my turn to give someone the finger.
I sent Colby a selfie without a message. He quickly responded:
Now who’s sending me selfies not on snap
I wish I could unsend texts
We’re leaving soon, he said after reacting to my last message.
I didn’t respond.
There was nothing better than taking a flight home especially when my headphones were on and I was alone in my aisle. As I looked out the window and watched as we descended from the puffy winter clouds, I realized that this was one of those moments that I was ever grateful for my job. During the quiet moments, the moments alone, and the ones I get to go home with headphones on and friends waiting for me on the other side,
Something leapt within me at the thought of meeting my friends in my home city; the one where I saw them for the first time. And maybe I thought about one of the four more than the rest, but I didn’t let my brain trail too far away from me. I needed to keep my senses about me to get through this week.
Colby said it would be a big one.
Before each investigation, of course they researched the locations. He didn’t tell me anything; I wondered if it was that interesting or if he had a feeling. I had a feeling, but I always did before investigating with them.
I choked the feeling down when my Uber from the airport dropped me off at the hotel we were sharing for tonight. Well, tonight we were sleeping at the estate we were investigating and we would probably sleep through the rest of the afternoon before checkout to get to our next flight. I couldn’t decide if I was excited for it or not.
Maybe we wouldn’t sleep but wait until sunrise then hurry out to debrief in a safe diner.
Sam and Colby scheduled it so that they would be at the hotel first.
I couldn’t shake this feeling inside of me especially when the hotel room door opened and I saw Sam’s smiling face.
“Hello!”
”Sam hi!” My arms were around his neck as the door closed.
“It’s been so long since we’ve last seen you.” He led me into the room. It was work to swallow with such a dry tongue.
”I know! Didn’t mean for it to be so long.” My words died in my throat when I came around the corner and saw Colby. He sat on the bed with his phone in his hand. When he looked up at me, I could have passed out. Seeing him in person for the first time in months almost made me drop dead; my vision narrowed and I didn’t know exactly what to do with my body.
”Oh so you did decide to come after all—“
”Hey stupid,” I laughed. My heart stopped when he got off the bed. “How could I miss another opportunity of both of you running, crying, screaming, throwing up because of a little ghost hunt—“
”You’re an idiot,” Colby said as he pulled me into a hug.
”Of course that’s why you’d come back,” Sam jeered. “At least laugh at Nate and Seth too.”
”Oh no,” I scoffed as I pulled from Colby. “There will be plenty of teasing to go around.”
After, when Nate and Seth arrived and we had dinner and settled after traveling, it was time for us to make our way to the estate. It was only 20 minutes from our hotel, and the entire time, the boys bickered and told jokes while trying to introduce the viewers to the history of the estate.
“They say that Miss Johnson was a medium, and that due to the religion that was prominent in this area at the time, she was forced to be silent about her craft or be excommunicated from the city,” Sam began.
”But,” Colby took over. “Because it was one of the two ways she made a living and because she believed in it as firmly as she did, she left the community she was in. On top of being a medium, she worked as a seamstress and was very good at her job. In 1886, she was hired by the lady of the estate to make clothes for everyone who lived in it. During her time at the estate, though, it was reported that she would sneak personal belongings into the dressing rooms to communicate with spirits of the house and also keep herself cleansed from bringing any back to her guest house that was on the property. She said there were three that were most active and always made sure that guests knew that they were present even if they were new to the estate.”
”The most active spirit claimed to be Ada who was the First Lady of the estate a generation before,” Sam started again. “Apparently she died of natural causes on the estate, but before her, her husband, William, passed away from a virus he caught while traveling.”
”The weird thing about the whole story,” Colby went on. “Is that it says that Ada’s death was from natural causes, but she only lived for 48 years. That doesn’t add up unless she had an underlying disease or something that was never recorded.”
”Maybe she was saying fuck ya’ll to all the damn men she had to live with,” Nate scoffed with a sassy flick of the wrist. I rolled my eyes and looked out my window. I sat behind Sam who drove, and Nate sat in between Seth and I.
”We don’t know how she died,” Sam laughed. “Okay, back to the medium. Her story is very interesting because while she worked at the estate, she reported three ghosts even though only two people—Will and Ava—were claimed to have died there since they were the first generation to live in the estate. She claimed to have communicated with a woman ghost and a child ghost, not so much the ghost of a man.”
”Two months after Miss Johnson started gossiping with the other servants of the estate that there was a child ghost living on property, she was brutally murdered in the dressing room,” Colby said. “So the rumor is that maybe there was a child in the estate but they passed and someone wanted to cover up the death?”
”Or maybe someone wanted to cover up that the child existed in the first place,” Seth suggested.
”Which opens a lot of other question,” I quickly replied.
”Right,” Colby agreed. “So there’s a lot of nuance and sketchy things going on behind the scenes.”
”I’m not sure why Miss Johnson would have been murdered in such a violent way, though,” Sam said. “If it wasn’t to cover up whatever ghost politics she was talking about, then what was it? Because a murder that gruesome must be an act of passion, but who did she piss off that badly?”
”I guess we will find out more information when we go on that tour.”
It wasn’t the tour that intrigued me, no. Immediately when we drove on property, the hair on my arms raised. I looked over my shoulder. I watched through my window intently.
The boys goofed as we grabbed the supplies and made an intro to Sam and Colby’s video, but I tried my best to remain silent and calm.
It was like the ash trees had eyes.
”Hello!” Our tour guide greeted us as we entered the house. “Welcome to the Bateman estates, I’m Angie the current owner.”
The floorboards under my feet felt ten feet away from me.
I stepped through the threshold behind her as Sam followed me and the rest of the boys followed him. My eyes latched on to every object of the room. The cream wallpaper filled the top two thirds of the walls while dark wood paneled the bottom third. The crystal chandelier in the foyer matched the crystal and gold wall lamps on the sides of the entrances of other room. A wide wooden staircase lengthened up either side of the walls of the foyer and met together at a wide plateau where various hallways branched off. The yellow lighting rained down on us gently, and for the first time since walking up to Sam and Colby that night at the party, a sweet fragrance made itself home in the back of my throat.
Familiarity.
I looked through the left threshold. It led to a sitting area full of furnishings and a bay window that overlooked the fields to the left of the house. I looked to the right, and I looked in between Nate and Colby to see the white and clack checkered flooring. It must have been the kitchen.
“We have had numerous visitors tell us that this was the house that made them believe in the paranormal,” Angie continued. My eyes pulled into focus from the kitchen, and when they landed on the person my gaze dodged, I met eyes with Colby who already looked directly at me.
Another glance shared between us a good four seconds too long. I looked back at Angie.
”Does anyone ever say that these are good or evil spirits? Or do they feel anything weird at all?” Sam asked. I was glad someone in this house had a level head on their shoulders because mine certainly was not.
”Not at all!” Angie exclaimed. “We’ve never had an evil spirit. There’s been freaky movement though, and a few people have reported there being a trickster or sorts here, but nothing pure evil by any means.”
”That’s good that they’re nice then,” Seth said. Angie nodded.
”I’ve made my way around working at plenty of haunted hotels, houses, and such, and there’s a reason that this was the property I invested in. I’ve never felt such good and light spirits before.”
”That actually helps a lot,” Nate laughed. I looked at Colby again.
He was already smiling in my direction.
”William and Ada Bateman first moved to this estate after his job took off. They lived in the city beforehand but he needed to get out because of some issues with this job. Apparently guests who have visited this house say that there’s a woman spirit here who makes her presence very much so known by playing with hair, moving things, or making noises. Sometimes people can see a woman with a white or pink dress in the corner of their eyes.”
”Oh shit, that means she has a lot of power to make herself that known,” Nate said. Angie nodded.
”If it’s Ada, yes. She has the most power in this house.”
We continued the tour.
“This room,” the guide started slowly. We knew what lay on the other side of the door. She had already led us through the downstairs and multiple rooms upstairs. By tone of voice, we knew what happened in this one. Colby entered first behind her then Sam, Seth, me and Nate. “This room is the dressing room where Miss Johnson was murdered.” I subconsciously bit the inside of my cheek as I looked around.
There was absolutely nothing ominous about it.
I didn't anticipate the house being so open, warm, and homey. The orange glow of the lights illuminated the faded yellow and pink floral wallpaper, and the plush intricately designed yellow, cream, and red rug under us swallowed my feet whole even through my shoes. It felt like I could curl up comfortably in this room and lull to sleep by the brush of the trees below.
“Do you know why she was murdered?” Sam asked.
“They say it was because she communicated with the ghosts and made a big deal about it through the house. Apparently some of the other servants were religious and didn't like the way she tried to communicate with spirits. That's some motive, but apparently her death was never avenged.”
“Wait, they never found out who killed her?” Colby asked. Angie shook her head.
“No. They couldn't find evidence among the servants and they didn't have visitors during the time of her death. It was like it was sudden.”
“Is there a child ghost here?” My mouth ran before I could catch it, and I confidently held Angie's eye contact as the boys shot looks at me.
“Well, that was a part of the story too, we think.” We all stood silent waiting for more. “Apparently two maids especially hated Miss Johnson for bringing children into her gossip about the spirits. She started saying that a child ghost also lived in this estate even though no children had lived here. It raised suspicions among the servants. Some would spread rumors believing that there had to be a child ghost and further investigating whose baby it was and then others would not believe her and make fun of Miss Johnson.
“Two maids specifically, though, were the oldest servants of the house. They were Ada’s personal maids, and they especially did not appreciate the gossiping about children ghosts. They tried to get Miss Johnson to shut up about it and suddenly a couple months later, she was found dead.” I gawked at Annie's story.
“Wait, you're saying that the two servants who personally knew Ada and were close to her were the ones who didn't like the stories about the child ghost?” Sam gasped. Angie nodded.
“That's right.”
“What if Ada had a baby and it died when it was young? Why would they want to cover it up? Was it with another man?” Seth asked.
“There are no records of a baby ever being born here. Except for one photo.” My stomach dropped at the thought. “There's a photo of Ada and a baby in the lord and lady’s room playing with the baby. The thing is, Will is behind them sitting and watching happily. The only record we have of the baby is one where both parents seem happy that they have her.
“Now, there's no evidence for this and I usually don't talk about this because I'm not on one to stir the pot really, but apparently there were political issues behind the scenes of William’s work. There was a lot of tension especially since the Civil War had ended, and William was against slavery the entire time, so when it was abolished, there were a lot of people who held a grudge with him because of where they lived. It kind of made him a target considering his business was also quite successful so he had money and power too.”
”Do you think someone killed the baby then to get back at him?” Sam asked.
”The politics in his work were brutal. It was either that or someone didn’t want him having an heir.”
“Can we see photos?” I asked.
”Yeah,” Angie said as she led us from the room. “We were headed there next.”
The next room was the primary bedroom. Seth followed Angie and Sam and Nate followed him. I was at Colby’s side, and when it was our turn to walk through the door, I went in front of him.
The second I took a step towards the door, my heart raced, clammy sweat rose to my hairline, and a chill swept through me.
”Holy shit—“ My eyes widened in fear and I froze in my place at the scared tone of Colby’s voice.
”What?” Sam gasped when he heard that tone as well and he turned to look at us. “Oh fuck!”
“What?” I cried. “Everyone’s looking at me and freaking out—”
”There’s a strand of your hair that’s literally raising up by itself like someone is lifting it—Oh.” Right as Colby pointed it out, the hair dropped like whoever it was that held my hair walked away.
”What the fuck was that?” Seth cried.
“Probably Ada.” My eyes widened. Makes her presence very much so known by playing with hair, was what Angie just told us downstairs.
”No way!” Colby laughed as we entered the rest of the way in. “Wait, that's crazy, did you feel it?” I shook my head.
”No, not at all.”
”She’s never violent. In fact, a lot of times, she’s so gentle with the things she does that sometimes we can’t tell if it’s her or not.”
I looked around the room and blinked furiously.
The chill didn’t leave me.
The sweat didn’t leave.
Welcome back.
”Wait,” I gasped. Then all eyes were on me. In a panic, as I returned to myself for a minute, I cowered in and turned to Colby.
”What’s wrong?” Sam asked. I gave Colby a look.
”No-No, keep going it’s fine,” he said.
When I heard Angie’s voice again, I started telling him.
”Did you hear that?” I asked him so quietly that my mouth made more sound than my voice. His eyes widened.
”No? What—“
”I don’t think I heard it audibly, but you know when a voice just comes in your head and it isn’t your own and it’s so sure of itself that it has to be something else?”
”Actually yeah,” he gasped. “Wait, you have that too?” I nodded furiously.
”Yes! All the damn time, it’s annoying.”
”Sam said he hadn’t had that before.”
”Anyway,” I sighed and swallowed tightly. “When we walked in, I had a cold chill, I was sweating, and then I heard it in my head like that, something that said ‘welcome back’ and—“ Colby’s eyes widened in fear as he stared at me then he looked at Sam who already analyzed us on the other side of the room. “And I could just be making things up or something, but I swear to god—“
”You feel like you’ve been here before?” Hesitantly, I nodded. “Alright. I do to, I didn’t tell them that though.”
”What?” I gasped. “Why didn’t you?”
”Why didn’t you?” My silence answered the question. “Yeah that’s what I thought.”
”What’s happening?” Sam finally broke his silence.
“We’ll talk about it in a little,” Colby determined with finality, and we tuned in to the rest of the tour.
”These are all the photos we have left that were taken at this estate,” Angie said, and on the left wall of the room, between two large windows that overlooked the field and the lake, were almost two dozen photos on the wall. At first it was hard to see. The sun nearly set, and these were west facing windows, so orange bands of bright light shot through the room.
My only thought was to curl up in the middle of the bed.
It looked incredibly soft with the layers of intricately stitched cream blankets and pillows; I could take the hardest nap nestled in the middle of it. The plush rug under my feet nearly lulled me to sleep like the last room as I made my way over to the photos. The boys followed, and Angie began speaking about the significant ones.
”This is William, that’s Ada, and those are some of the servants, and that was taken in the fields with the dogs—“
I couldn’t remember the rest of what she said. My eyes never left William’s photo. I wasn’t sure I was breathing anymore, not when a familiar feeling washed over me.
Not when the same feeling I had when I looked at Colby in the eyes rained down on me the moment I looked at this photo in the eyes.
”Oh my god,” Seth laughed. “Wait, look at this one. It looks so stupid; looks like you,” he called out my name and it snapped my attention back to him. I glared at him as he laughed.
”Whatever, asshole,” I said. I looked at the photo lower on the wall. It must have been Ada. She was in the garden with what looked to be her maids, but she relaxed with them and smiled and made silly faces. My heart skipped again.
”Wait,” Colby said ever so quietly. My heart skipped again. I looked at him. His eyes never let the photo in front of him. I followed his gaze, it was Ada’s photo. “You do look like her, don’t you?” I really looked at Ada now.
”I—“ I stumbled over my words. I was about to mock him, but the thoughts died in my throat when I realized that I did, in fact, look similar to her.
“Oh my god, she does!” Sam said.
”Ada is most active in this room,” Angie said from behind us. “People also report hearing voices and a baby’s cry, and also seeing apparitions here or down the hallway coming in this direction.”
”Oh, so people have seen figures too?” Seth asked.
“They have,” Angie said. “People say that places where frequent birth and death are the most active for spirits, and since this is the room that’s most active, we suspect that Ada passed in this room, probably gave birth in this room. But a lot of the exact details and history of this estate are hidden.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the bed. When Colby’s hand gently held onto my elbow to lead me out of the room with everyone else, goosebumps trailed over my skin in the wake of his touch. What was wrong with me?
”So,” Angie began the end of the tour as we entered the foyer again. “If you are wanting to get as in touch with the spirits of the house as possible, I recommend doing your thing in the kitchen, the dressing room, and the primary bedroom, but, of course, everywhere has a chance of activity.”
”Thank you so much!” Sam told her, and after our final goodbyes, the five of us were left in the house alone.
”Alright,” Sam spoke to the camera. “We’re going to have to leave a music box in the hallway upstairs outside of the primary room.”
”Definitely,” Seth agreed.
“Maybe, if you guys are up for it, we can do a little bit of a seance in the dressing room or primary room?”
”Jesus Christ, I knew you were going to fucking say that,” Nate groaned.
”Of all places, it’s the safest to do it here. Have you felt the demons? There are none!”
That, of all things, was true. Not an ounce of dark energy or fear intimidated me through the entire tour, and the rest must have agreed because we planned a seance in the primary room at three am.
”I think I’m going to volunteer Seth to do the Estes method,” Colby said as he fished supplies out of his backpack.
”Why am I always the Estes method bait?” He whined.
“Because the ghosts like you,” Colby sighed as he tossed Seth headphones. “You should be thankful. They don’t like me as much. Let’s get the rem pod and ask spirits some questions first.”
Immediately as the rem pod turned on, it lit up.
”Is it messed up?” Colby asked. Sam recalibrated it. It continued the beeping and flashing of lights even as Sam got up and stood next to us. “Damn, maybe not.”
”If there’s a spirit here with us could you possibly walk away from the lights? It’s our device to communicate—“
The rem pod turned off.
I looked at Sam with bright eyes as he turned to me as well.
”Thank you, and to make sure you’re actually listening and can hear us, can you step close to the red device again?”
Immediately the lights turned on. My heart pounded as my eyes fixated on the empty space around the pod.
”Thank you so much, I’m Sam and these are my friends. We wanted to ask the spirits in this house some questions, light up the device for yes or turn it off for no, would that be alright?”
The lights didn’t end.
”Awesome, hi I’m Seth. Is this Ada?”
The lights turned off.
”No,” he gasped. “Is this William?” They didn’t turn on. “Is this Miss Johnson?”
The rem pod shrilled to life. I gasped and looked at the others.
”Hi Miss Johnson,” he said.
”This is so freaky, how is it so exact?” I whispered to Colby who stood on the other side of me.
”I don’t fucking know,” he laughed.
”We were wondering if you were willing to tell us a bit about the house?” The lights stayed on. “Perfect. You’re really active, is there something you want to tell us eventually tonight?”
The lights still stayed on. It must have been an accident.
”Ask a controlled question just in case,” I mumbled.
”Did you work as a chef in the house?” Colby asked. The lights turned off.
”Well shit,” Sam laughed. “Were you the gardener?” Still no lights.
”Were you the seamstress?” I asked and the rem pod woke to life again.
“People say that you were a medium as well, is that true?” The rem pod stayed on after Sam’s question. “Is that the reason you’re so active?” The lights didn’t turn off.
”Do Will and Ada live here still?” The rem pod stopped then started again. Colby shot Sam a confused look.
”Do they sometimes live here?” Yes. “Do you mean that they can come and go as they please?” Also yes. “No way,” Sam gasped as he turned back to Colby. “That means there’s a vortex or a hotspot or something in this house.”
”We should find it and ask questions there,” Nate said.
“Thanks for talking to us, Miss Johnson. You can follow us around the house tonight if you’d like.”
And Sam turned off the rem pod.
”First one to find the vortex has to do the Estes method in it,” Colby said.
”Bitch, you’re saying that like it’s a reward,” Nate snapped back.
”Someone’s bound to find it—“
”Found it.” We spun on our heels and noticed that Seth was missing.
“Seth?” Sam called.
”Over here.” We followed the voice around the corner of the kitchen and walked back into the foyer. He stood in between the two staircases and on the walls across from each other, there were two mirrors.
”Wow, it’s almost as if the house chose you to do the Estes method,” I jeered.
”Fuck ya’ll, I was actually trying to look for it unlike you bums who stood around bickering about not doing it.”
”It was literally right in front of us,” Sam sighed before he reached for the spirit box in his backpack. “Alright, someone go get a chair.”
A minute later, Colby came back with a chair and placed it in between the mirrors.
”I hate you guys, for the record.”
”We figured the hate hadn’t left since the Conjuring house.” Seth gave Sam the finger as he pulled the blindfold over his eyes.
”If there’s any spirit in the house, you’re welcome to come talk to Seth through the spirit box,” Colby called loudly.
“Loud,” Seth immediately said in that monotone voice. We all whirled our gazes to him.
”What’s loud?”
”Colby.” The room froze.
”You said my name,” Colby said. “Do you know me?”
”Know you.”
”Do you know all of us?” Silence. I could almost make out the flipping of channels under the noise canceling headphones.
“Come.”
”Where do you want us to go?”
”Follow me.”
“Who are we talking—“
A loud noise from upstairs cut Colby off.
Then the music box started playing. I looked up the stairs immediately, but saw nothing as the chilling music sang down to us. We all gawked at each other in silence.
”Was-Was that in the dressing room?”
“It was!” Sam gasped quietly at Nate’s faint question.
”Are you in the dressing room?”
”Maybe.”
”What’s your name?”
”Come find out.”
”Uh,” Sam said as he slowly turned to Colby. “I thought there weren’t evil spirits here. Why does this feel weird?” Colby shook his head.
”I mean, a full on murder happened in this house so like, there has to be some kind of residual negative energy,” Colby replied.
”Could just be a trickster, though, like she said,” I intervened.
”That’s true,” Sam said. “Maybe we should go where it’s asking us to go to—“
”Bedroom.” Seth’s single word cut our conversation short.
”Get him out,” Sam said as he looked back at Colby. “We’re going to the primary room.”
I sat at the foot of the bed. My right foot rested on the bed in front of me, and I messed with the shoelaces. My hands were busy; they needed something for my brain to stay grounded.
I watched as the boys set up the Estes method again for Seth and also placed the rem pod in the middle of the room. The bedroom door was open so that we could hear the music box.
“Alright,” Sam sighed as he sat in the middle of the rug between the rem pod and Seth who sat in the chair. His bright eyes looked up at Seth expectantly. “It’s really not weird here, is it?” He asked. Seth shook his head.
”No, it isn’t, actually,” Colby said.
”I really don’t think it’s evil. If there’s any spirits in the house who would like to—“
The rem pod shrilled to life.
“Alright then, let’s go,” Colby said, and Seth pulled on the blindfold.
“Are you Miss Johnson?” The rem pod didn’t turn off. “Are you Ada?” The rem pod stopped.
”Here,” Seth said. Sam looked at Colby quickly.
”There could be more than one; maybe everyone’s here.”
“We came.”
”Oh, yeah I did call you guys.”
”You,” Seth’s monotone voice responded to Colby.
”Me? Or who—“
”Colby.” The room fell still as we stared back and forth between each other.
”You-You said my name—Did any of you say my name since being here?” Colby asked as he turned to each of us.
“It’s been hours, I’m not sure,” I said slowly.
“You,” Seth repeated.
”I know,” Colby said. “What about me?”
“Not quite what… I didn’t get the rest of that.”
”Not quite, what?” Sam asked. ”Miss Johnson, you said you were a medium, was there something about the Bateman’s you found out but shouldn’t have known about?” A few beats of silence passed.
”I’m sorry to say,” Seth cut the silence.
”What did you find out that you were sorry about?”
“I’m not mad at all about it. Holy shit, that was a full sentence.”
“What are you not mad about?” Colby asked.
“You were sick.” My eyebrows rose in question, and I turned to the three to see what they thought that meant.
”Who was sick? Who do you mean by you?” Sam asked.
”I told you.”
”Colby?” He clarified. “Are you talking about last year?”
”Not quite what… It was the same sentence I missed before.”
“Not quite…” Sam mumbled in thought. “I’m confused.”
”Is there a child ghost here?” I asked.
“Certainly.”
“No way,” Nate gasped. “Literally answered that immediately.”
I saw a shadow from the corner of my eye.
And then the music box.
I leapt, though, before the music box went off, and the boys also jumped as I scared them.
“What the fuck was that?” Colby asked me. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked to where I saw the shadow run by.
It would have been child height in the hallway running past the door.
The music box turned off.
”I-I—It’s okay—”
”No, what was it?” Colby pushed on. I looked up at him, and I supposed that my wide eyes and pale face was enough proof for him to believe me.
”There-There was—I saw a shadow run by. How did you not see it? You would have seen it perfectly from where you are.”
”I didn’t see anything.”
”She literally jumped before the music box went off,” Nate confirmed.
”What was—”
”Child.”
”That was the child?” Sam gasped.
”Yes.”
”Who else is here? Miss Johnson, the child, Will and Ada?”
”There’s more.”
”More?” Colby gasped, and Sam looked up at him with wide fearful eyes.
”Who else?”
”Visitors.”
”No, no,” Colby gasped as the pieces fit together. He stood away from where he leaned against the bed next to me and pointed at Sam. “That’s what it told us; there’s a vortex and they can go and come as they please. I bet spirits can travel to this house and leave it.”
”You’re totally right,” Sam said. “Can you tell us who—“
”It doesn't matter.”
”Why doesn’t it matter?”
”Because… Because—I didn’t catch that—welcome back.”
My vision pounded to black and my heart fell out of my ass,
”Welcome—Who are you welcoming back?”
”Colby.” The three of us looked at Colby with wide eyes.
”I’ve not been here before.”
”Before.”
”Before what?”
The room was silent for a while.
Nate sucked in a breath to say something, but Seth cut him off.
”Death.”
”What?” Sam gasped. “The fuck does that mean?”
“It said-It said you were here before death, is that what it said?” Nate asked.
At that point, my heart tied in my throat, and I couldn’t dare look in Colby’s direction. I knew he looked at me.
”Um, when was I here—“
”Long time ago.”
“To a ghost, a long time ago could mean a lot different than what it means to us,” Sam said.
”It’s you.”
”Who’s you?”
Seth said my name.
No, the spirit box said my name; it was so vivid and loud in the headphones, that I caught the unmistakable syllables of the word. I wondered if I passed out because I didn’t remember much of the Estes method after that.
There was no other explanation for how this ghost knew my name. Perhaps Sam and Colby’s names were familiar with the ghosts, but not mine.
“Get him out.”
It was over before I could process what happened.
”Why did it say her name though?” Sam asked and Colby looked back at him with no answers.
“And why the fuck did it say ‘it’s you?’ What an ominous thing to say,” Nate said.
”Just before it said that Colby had been here before death. What does that mean?” Sam’s voice raised and I flinched. I turned from them.
There was an ache.
An ache that cut so deep in my chest, I wondered if the bone cracked. Tears welled in my eyes.
”What-What’s wrong?” I heard Colby’s voice. I took a step away from them.
And when I accidentally let out a sob, I heard Colby push Seth away.
”Cut the cameras.”
I didn’t like that tone in his voice.
He knew.
It sounded like he was about to cry as well.
”What is it?” He asked as I left the room, he was on my heels. I shook my head as I wiped the few tears that fell.
”Colby,” I said with a tense jaw. He stopped.
We stood alone on the plateau that overlooked the foyer. I slowly turned to him. I looked at him.
He looked at me.
We didn’t say anything.
I couldn’t think of the words to say, and I visibly saw the softness of realization in his eyes—or something adjacent to that—and he swallowed tightly.
”I remember this.”
”Colby?” I heard my name next. I looked past Colby as Sam came up slowly. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Those weren’t the questions I had, no.
I wondered, what did Colby remember?
Did he taste the familiarity in the air like I did?
Did he feel the cathartic peacefulness like I did?
Did he see the extra presence like I did?
We gathered our things and went into the dressing room to prepare for our three am seance.
”I’m thinking we could start soon,” Sam said softly. I checked my phone. 2:30am. “I know it’s early, but it’s already been so damn active. I bet Miss Johnson is with—“
The spirit box in his backpack turned on by itself.
”Yeah, she’s here,” Seth sighed, to which Colby burst out laughing.
The lights were off.
Five candles were around us as we placed the ouija board in the middle. A ring of salt encompassed us all. Colby sat nearly across from me; Sam in between us with Nate to my left and Seth in between him and Colby.
”The devices you guys have been playing with all night are around the room,” Sam announced. “You can mess with them if you’d like, but we would really appreciate communicating directly with one of you with this board.” He looked at us and we each put our fingers on the planchette. ”Did a spirit follow us in here?”
It took a few seconds, but the planchette moved to yes.
”Is this spirit Miss Johnson still?”
It didn’t move.
”Hi Miss Johnson, thanks for talking to us all night. Sorry if we’re being redundant—“
The planchette began to circle around the yes.
”Okay,” he laughed, and I couldn’t tell if he thought it was funny or he was intimidated. “We want to know more about the exact history of what went down in this room. Were you murdered in this room?” The planchette stayed on yes.
But then it drifted away. It slowly moved without motive.
“Do you know why you were murdered?” The planchette circled back to yes. “Were you murdered because the people in this house did not like that you were a medium?”
”Look—“ Nate said, and we watched as the planchette made its way to the letters.
S
I tried to rationalize if this was happening, because I absolutely wasn’t moving the wood. I looked at Colby. He looked at me from already examining Nate. I couldn’t look away from him. What a time to—
“T,” Sam mumbled.
What a time to fawn over him, how he looked under the dim candlelight, when I was supposed to be spooked from the presence of ghosts. I looked back at the board. My mouth went dry as it went to the third letter.
O
”Sam,” Colby mumbled in caution.
P
”It said stop.”
”Do you want us to close off this session?” Sam asked.
The planchette slowly made its way over to No.
”No?” He asked. “Do you want us to ask other questions…” His voice trailed off as the planchette moved on it’s own towards the letters again.
”I never asked,” Colby grumbled in frustration. “Is there a message you have for us?” The planchette went back to Yes.
We were quiet.
W E L C O—
“Are you spelling welcome?” Sam asked. The planchette went to Yes.
B A—
“Are you telling us ‘welcome back’ again?” The planchette pointed to No. “Who are you saying…”
C
Not this again. My tears burned my eyes this time, and they were glossy when I blinked.
O
What did it mean? What did welcome back mean? This spirit said Colby was here before death and then told me—
L
”Are you telling Colby, ‘welcome back?’”
The plachette landed on Yes, and I almost broke the rules and yanked my fingers from the board.
Then it started to spell out my name.
”No, no, no; don’t do that,” I cried.
“Stay on,” Sam said sweetly. “It’s okay—We—I think we’re done here. I…”
S
O
”What the hell is it spelling now?” Seth asked.
”Are you giving us another name?” Sam asked.
U
The planchette was determined to finish this word.
”Are you going to spell the name of the person who murdered you?” He pressed on.
L
T
”I…” Colby mumbled. I looked up and watched the words die in his throat. He, too, looked all too pale, and with the red and blue rem lights on him, they reflected his glassy eyes. I watched his throat; it was work for him to swallow.
Was he actually going to cry?
I
E
”Is someone remembering—“
”I know what it’s spelling,” Colby choked out. That was when Sam shut up and examined his best friend.
S
“Soul-ties,” Seth whispered. It was like realization settled in for him as well, becasue the way his eyes widened and darted between Colby and I made me wish for the ground to swallow me up whole.
The planchette circled three times on the board for us.
“It—The ghosts just called you two soul-ties.”
Our fingers were off of it.
”Thank you for—“
”Colby,” I mumbled as he shot up. Sam closed out the seance just as Colby left the safety of our circle. I followed him out of the salt line and into the dimly lit hallway. “Colby.” He ignored me as he hesitantly made his way down the stairs. ”Colby,” I repeated firmer. “Colby, don’t leave me,” I choked. He stopped and looked up to where I was at the top of the stairs.
I walked down to him, and I swore, another life flashed before my eyes.
I didn’t know the man who stood in front of me, but I knew his eyes.
I didn’t know the blue dress on my body, but it was my body.
I looked back at Colby as I made it to the first floor. He didn’t take his gaze off of me for a second.
”Oh my god,” Seth gasped as he ran a hand through his hair. “Before death, you were here. The ghost welcomed her back. “She—Miss Johnson literally just called you two soul-ties! It’s—oh my god—is reincarnation real?”
The daunting, jarring, death defying truth hung over us like a black cloud. The five of us looked at each other.
”What the fuck are we going to put in the video? Have you even been recording Sam?” Sam checked his camera even thoguh he looked so far from himself.
“Yes,” he stuttered. “I-I have no idea what we’re going to say.”
”We can’t just tell them that reincarnation is real because we literally went to the house our best friend's owned in their past lives—“
“Shut up,” Colby burst out. “Just stop. Let us-Let us think for a second. Don’t say shit like that.” I looked at him. Offense must have been prevalent. “We-We need to fucking talk or something, I know-I know the whole reincarnation thing is insane, but this-this is still our fucking lives too.”
”Yeah, no,” Seth sighed. “Totally. I know. Maybe we should pause for the night and chill out. Maybe we can take naps and order food.”
”You think they DoorDash here?” Sam scoffed at Nate.
“I mean we can try.”
”I’m probably going to have to go pick it—“
I appreciated Sam diverting the attention from me and Colby, and he led the other two towards the kitchen. Colby didn’t take his eyes off of me.
”How believable is this for you?” I whispered. He only swallowed, blinked quickly. I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my sleeve, and then I paused when I noticed tear tracks on Colby’s face as well. “Let’s…” I started cautiously. Colby’s eyes slowly widened, but he didn’t stop me when I raised my hand to his face and wiped the last tears away. “Let’s just finish this investigation. Debrief, and we can sort things out later. We don’t want this video to go to waste.” He nodded but didn’t pull away from me. I couldn’t stop touching him either.
Forty minutes later, Sam and Colby came back with the food they picked up.
Seth offered to go with Sam, but Colby pressed that he could do it. Seth didn’t fight it; we all knew. I would have done anything to be a fly on the wall of that car. What did they talk about? They had so much time to be alone.
“I’m sorry for how this night turned out if it freaked you out or anything,” Seth said as he sat next to me on the sofa. I shook my head.
”No, I mean, yeah it’s weird. I’m not upset or anything,” I rushed. It felt nice that one of them started the conversation. Nate came into the room with bottles of water and gave one to each of us as well. He sat in the chair to my right. “I feel like I’m at the point now where I’m gaslighting myself. Like did it actually happen or there has to be some kind of explanation.” Nate nodded in agreement.
”Yeah, that seriously hits us hard everytime we finish an investigation, but then we pull out the footage and it’s like reliving it a second time. The moments that literally have no other explanation are a lot more easy to believe when it’s watched back because it’s like reconfirming in your head that it was real, you did see it, and you know it wasn’t staged or anything,” he said.
”I just feel like this is different,” I muttered.
”It really is,” Seth agreed. “I know it’s a lot more personal for you and Colby, but imagine if the Estes method session and the seance we did really was real; what does that have to say for the rest of the world? If it was real and we were talking to the real ghost of Miss Johnson, and she literally called you and Colby out by name and basically told you that you two lived here in your past lives; what the fuck does that mean for the rest of us?”
”Reincarnation could literally be real!” Nate gasped. “That’s such an insane thing to claim in a video! Wars literally start over religion.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m just fucking relieved that I’m not the one who has to edit this post it.” We laughed at his joke because that was very much so fair. But my smile slowly fell.
Nate was right; he didn’t have to edit this footage. Sam and Colby would have to.
Colby would edit this footage and he would be the one to ultimately decide what to do or say. That terrified me. I felt bad for him, because clearly both he and Sam were stressed as hell if they took an hour break by themselves. Sure, they picked up food for all of us, but they still went off alone and during a tense time.
What did they talk about?
Over dinner—or a 4am breakfast, I wasn’t quite sure anymore—we discussed what to do next. Maybe we got information about reincarnation and soul ties, but that wasn’t what we were here for.
”I just know we haven’t gotten anything about the murder,” I said in between bites.
“That’s true,” Seth said. “Are you guys up to trying more?” He looked up at Sam and Colby, but his gaze lingered on Colby more.
”I am,” he said and then looked around.
“Yeah, we definitely should try again to see if we can find out who killed her,” I said. Colby looked me in the eyes for the first time since the car ride with Sam.
A gentleness was in his eyes, and it replaced the fear and frantic thoughts. I needed to know what was said. Later. We would figure it out later.
”Awesome, would you guys be up for trying it in the dressing room again or should we try something down here?”
”Let’s try down here,” Seth answered Sam. “Clearly Miss Johnson is very active in the dressing room and she didn’t have much else to say other than what she already has. Maybe we can try to get another spirit.”
”But she’s the one who would know who killed her,” Colby said.
”I mean, they might have ghost meetings or something, I don’t fucking know. Also we’re close to the portal so maybe we can talk to another ghost not attached to the house.”
”Seth, if you want to go flirt with demons again, you could just say it,” Nate jeered.
”Shut the fuck up.”
It was settled.
We placed the music box in the vortex and the rem pod on the other side of the house in between the sitting room and the back door. We left the backdoor open. The winter chill brushed in, and the clean air filtered that scent of familiarity lodged in my palate if only for a moment.
It happened quickly.
Since Miss Johnson was a medium, it was easy for her to communicate with us with each method. Within 30 minutes, we talked to multiple ghosts and narrowed down a few names that Angie talked to us about before. We all believed it was one of the maids close to Ada who murdered Miss Johnson for speaking about the baby.
The maid knew that William and Ada had a baby too early; there wasn’t enough time in between their wedding and when the baby was born, so everyone would have known they would have had her before getting married. On top of that, due to the dangerous position he was in at his job, it made them a target. Because of everything, they kept the baby a secret and safe in the house. Even though she was presumably safe in the house, she was still murdered by someone.
Miss Johnson told us that Ada believed it was someone in the house, but not too long after the child passed, William did as well. There wasn’t enough time between either death; she couldn’t figure out who did it, so she fired all of the servants in the house aside for her closest and personal maid. She wasn’t a part of the scheming.
When Miss Johnson came to work at the estate, it had been 20 years after William and the baby passed. They did a good job covering up the fact that they had a child and the fact that she was murdered under their own roof. Until Miss Johnson arrived.
”You’re telling me,” Seth started with a deep laugh of disbelief laced in his tone. He leaned forward in his seat. I sat on the sofa next to Nate who had his head leaned back on the rest, eyes closed, and arms folded—we couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not but we didn’t disturb him—and Sam and Colby did the Estes method in the middle of the sitting room. “That she literally outed a secret they had to keep in order to not lose everything they had? And she didn’t know?”
“Someone poisoned Will too; that’s what had to have happened. There were too many suspicious things happening for us to not rule that out,” Colby said.
“Ada was still alive and the maid still worked there,” Seth went on. “Which means that unless it was someone outside of the house, which looks very unlikely, it was the maid.”
”Or Ada herself,” Colby said quietly. His eyes were on me. My throat went dry.
“Ada…” Seth said. Nate was suddenly awake.
”Ada herself killed Miss Johnson?” Sam asked. He still wiped the tears from his eyes from coming out of the headphones and blindfold.
The rem pod and the music box shilled to life.
I was pushed too far, worn too thin. The bathroom was too far. I was out of my seat and down the wooden stairs of the patio out back before I could blink. By the time I finished getting sick, Colby was behind me. I saw a flash of Sam on the patio before my tear filled eyes looked up at Colby.
He didn’t blink. There was no real expression on his face aside from his attentive eyes. Then he slowly nodded. Tongue dampened his lips in thought
“Ada stabbed Miss Johnson 36 times because…” His words faded. I wondered how I looked. I could feel how pale I was.
”Inside—Come inside guys,” Sam rushed with a nervous shake in his voice. It was freezing out here. Colby didn’t even flinch.
The words went unsaid but not unnoticed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“
”No, no,” Colby said gently to Sam as he turned back to the house. The grass poked my ankles over my vans and my socks soaked up the early morning dew. My eyes scanned the fields. The water over a hundred yards from us was still as a mirror; the faded starlight bounced off. The sky already reflected a lighter blue. “It’s not you at all. Hold on a second.”
Sam went back into the house. They left the door open. Colby turned to me.
”Reincarnation isn’t real, Colby,” I muttered roughly. An eyebrow shot up.
”Yeah,” he scoffed. “You believe it isn’t real now but only because you think you wouldn’t murder anyone.”
“It-It wasn’t me—“
”Maybe, but in this lifetime, your daughter wasn’t murdered in front of you.” Chills fell down my body like a cold rain when he spoke those words. I couldn’t look away from him even as the tears broke. “And your husband wasn’t poisoned right after.”
“Fuck,” I gasped breathlessly. “This is real, isn’t it?” Colby swallowed. His eyes scanned the expanse of land around us. It took a while, and the more seconds that passed, the more I knew it confirmed my statement.
”Do you not remember running across this grass and jumping in the lake?”
Like a train engine, the memory crashed into me and I almost fell off my feet. The hot Texas summer sun burned my skin, but I kept my eyes on… a man. Colby; his eyes looked back at me, and before I could drown in them, we broke the surface of the water.
I looked at Colby in front of me. Moonlight reflected in his expectant eyes.
The seconds ticked by. I could feel them in the warming wind, in the dimming stars.
”Who’s going to believe us?”
That morning, as we met in a diner with coffees and a basket of fries since we weren’t hungry enough for a full meal yet, I tried my hardest to debrief and be in the conversations with the boys. But how could I? Information was revealed and things happened with no other explanation tonight, and Colby’s silence was telling. Did he believe it? Or did he not want to?
The others must have felt the tension and thank god they didn’t feel awkward and carried the conversation easily.
I wasn’t ready for confrontation. Thinking about where I stood with Colby by myself in my own head was enough confrontation. Of course Sam didn’t realize. Or maybe he did and that was why when we got back to the hotel—when the sunlight shot across the awakening city and burned our night infested eyes—he finally mentioned the elephant in the room.
”Honestly,” he mumbled as we neared the elevator. Nate and Seth were ahead of us speaking quietly. Colby slowly looked at him, and I avoided his gaze because it was too serious. All knowing. “I’ll stay with Nate and Seth tonight.”
I wanted to scream no please don’t leave me but another terrifying feeling pulled my other arm.
”Okay,” Colby simply said and that was that.
A well of excitement and fear and curiosity overflowed within me.
The three boys got off first and thank the heavens the other two didn’t mention Sam getting off with them. The elevator doors shut, and before they sealed, I stole one more glance at Sam who looked back at me already. His comforting eyes warmed my entire body and then Colby and I were alone.
I wasn’t breaking the silence until he did.
We left the elevator—only two floors from the other three—and I decided it was the longest elevator ride I had ever taken. My vision pounded with anticipation as we neared our room. He unlocked the door and led me inside.
I recoiled at the ever soft gleam in his eyes. I tried to forget that it looked like it was work for him to turn away from me.
“Let’s-Let’s just relax first.” I nodded. Maybe I couldn’t break the silence. At least I knew that he wanted to have the conversation with me.
I washed my makeup off. Colby brushed his teeth. We both stood at the double sinks. It took everything within me to not glance at his reflection. I saw the tension under his skin. Maybe he fought the feeling as well. Or maybe he felt my tension. He couldn’t be uncomfortable alone with me, no. He would have told Sam not to leave.
My throat tangled within itself when Colby walked from the bathroom into the bedroom and took his shirt off at the same time. I looked back at my reflection and thank god he continued around the corner to his luggage so that he wouldn’t see my wide eyes glaze over.
Either the universe is out for blood or Colby sent a message with that move.
After I braided my hair, I too left the bathroom and flicked off the lights. The silence was comfortable but it wasn’t peaceful. Intangible questions netted between us, I knew that much, and from the way his eyes narrowed on the things he messed with in his backpack as I took off my clothes, I wondered how much speaking we could get done tonight. Unless we could communicate without words. Maybe I got ahead of myself.
I didn’t even think about facing him at all. Everyone changed in front of each other—at least just shirts and pants—like it was a regular thing. It was a regular thing for us, but this was substantially above that. The intimacy shook my breath and I hoped he didn’t hear the way my breath hitched as I pulled on an oversized shirt to sleep in.
He charged camera batteries while replacing them with new batteries and SD cards. He didn’t go over footage with me like he typically did. When was this ever a typical night though?
I stood on my side of the bed after plugging in my phone, and I must have felt him turn towards me because I too faced him. He was on the other side of the bed. As badly as I wanted to look away from his eyes—as badly as I wanted to gaze down the rest of his body—I kept my focus on the way his eyes didn’t defocus from mine.
“How do you feel?” I could curl up in his voice forever if he always spoke that way to me. I nodded my head before I replied.
”Fine, I’m-I’m fine.” He nodded.
”Tonight was a lot.” I nodded again.
”It was.”
”Are you upset?” I shook my head. I wished I could speak. I wanted to, so badly, but not a constructive word came to me. “I—I had no idea—“
”It’s okay,” I rushed out. “Are you upset?’
”No,” he quickly said. “Not at all.”
My heart leapt.
“Every time you spoke, the ghosts in the house freaked out. You were like-like a beacon for me, or something.” I recounted the events that took place. It was true. When I spoke, noises happened. Ada touched my hair. When I spoke, the devices were loud.
With him, I wondered what would happen in the future. Who else could aid him like I could?
”Come here.” I walked over to his side of the bed. His eyes were on my body, I felt the heaviness, but I didn’t look up to him. I would have fallen. Then I looked up to him and stood there. He looked back at me but didn’t say anything.
When his hand reached up and touched my face, I needed to make sure he wouldn’t panic and pull away so I leaned into it. He released a heavy breath.
“I…” He stopped himself.
Then he said my name.
”Say whatever you want,” I told him. I needed him to say it. Say anything at all; I didn’t care how cut-throat it was. I needed everything aired out.
“I didn’t,” he shook his head. “I thought I was crazy for feeling like I already knew you when I met you for the first time.”
The walls crumbled around me. I couldn’t catch my breath. I didn’t like how much time I wasted and left his words alone in the air.
“Colby—“
”You don’t—I know—you don’t have to feel—”
”No, Colby, that’s—I was trying to ignore it all this time.” Realization washed over him and I couldn’t stop from smiling.
”You-You feel the same way then?” I nodded quickly.
“Did you think I would have reacted the way I did when that board said we were soultied? You remembered the memory I had of us in the lake, right? Why do you think I’m on the verge of believing it?” An uneven breath escaped from his mouth as if he held onto it for too long.
With a shake of the head, he grabbed my face, and kissed me. The intensity of it all was unbearable. I couldn’t hold my ground, not when it felt like all our pieces fit together for the first time.
My hands grabbed him. It was so hard to hold onto him when he didn’t wear a shirt. I wanted him in every way, and I knew he wanted me, but how fast was too fast? So I wrapped my arms around his neck. If I grabbed him anywhere else, I knew it would be the end.
It would be a death wish because after he touched me once, only death could separate us.
“Do you even know?” His voice—a quiet breath that sent chills across my heated skin—knocked the wind out of me. How was the room so silent? The pounding of my heart could have filled its walls. “You know how hard it was for me to not kiss you everytime I just—god—I just fucking looked at you?” I swallowed tightly at the confession. His hands on my face held me, and he still pressed kisses to my mouth, across my face. It was hard to stay still. How could we when this realization was bone deep?
Even if I didn’t know whether or not I believed in reincarnation, the desperation in my fascia was evident enough.
”And even if it would have ruined what we had already, it would have been worth it.”
“How do you know I didn’t want you back?” I gasped when his lips slipped down my throat. He laughed.
”I thought you could have, but I definitely didn’t want to risk it.” I kissed him this time, and he gasped with the amount of force I used against him. His arms fell down my body and held me so tightly he lifted me.
”I didn’t realize I needed you,” I gasped.
“I need you too. You think I’ll be able to continue doing what we do without you? You—We literally share the share the same soul. You’re the part of me that I’m not.”
“So you’re the part of me I’m not?” My voice broke when he let go of me.
”Come on.” I could have collapsed into that dark tone. He spun around so that his back was to the bed and he pulled me onto his lap. His eyes were wide and beckoning; I rested my arms around his neck, and I couldn’t even lean in to kiss him. I sat there as his hands raced up my back without even pulling me.
He must have seen it too; something in me that was similar to what I saw in him.
He kissed me first, but I pushed him down. I needed him so close to me that I probably wouldn't be satisfied until the laws of physics were broken. The first time I rolled my hips into his, he left out a satisfied hum, and his hands moved to my hips and guided them back and forth gently.
I knew we still had clothes on, so how did it feel this good? I tried to kiss him but I couldn’t. My hand was still on his face, thumb linked under his chin now, and I couldn’t help myself. My other hand slipped down his skin and touched every inch of it that was exposed. My legs were so weak I should have fallen to my front already, but he held me up. As much as I moved, and as much as I touched him, he had control. He held me, moved me, kissed me, tasted me, and let me have my fun.
Or maybe he was as stretched thin as I. Maybe he needed this like I did, and maybe no one had the control or the fun. I didn’t do anything except follow his lead just as he followed mine. When I kissed him, he kissed back. When I pulled his pants off, my shirt hit the floor with them.
My body vibrated above him. It wasn’t a secret. Now that I was fully uncovered aside from my underwear, he could see it, not just feel it. I didn’t think twice about not wearing a bra to sleep even if I shared a room with the boys because never in their lives have they given me a reason to distrust them or doubt them. But now, a heated blush fell down my face and neck as I sat above him exposed.
“Here—“ His breathless voice made my heart jump again. His hand lowered in between my legs, and my eyes closed quickly or else he would have seen them roll back. “Does it feel good, baby?”
“Colby,” I moaned. He closed his eyes, and again, his body tensed under his skin. I didn’t realize how much of an effect I had on him. “You-You really want to do this? Now?” Then his eyes snapped open with caution.
”Do you not want to?” I shook my head quickly.
”No, I do. I really want to. I just didn’t know if it was too fast.”
”It’s not too fast for me. I’ve wanted you for so long. If it’s too fast for you then we don’t—“
”No, it’s not.” He smiled; eyebrows twinged with confusion.
”Then why did you say that?”
“I’m not sure.” His eyes fell down my body. Fingers played with my braid that now loosely hung over my shoulder.
”Did someone say something?”
”No,” I gasped. Because it slowly crept up on me. “I think-I think I’m so scared.” His eyes snapped back up to mine.
”Of what?”
”How much I feel for you. I need you, Colby, and if either of us fucks this up I—I don’t know what I’d do.” He shook his head.
”I can’t—There’s no doubt in my mind that we won’t work out.”
“How can you be so sure?” He hesitated. Wetted his lips.
”Did you not see how much I believed it as well? I didn’t even question it.” My eyes widened. He was the only thing in the room. Everything around us faded to black; only him. “Did you-Did you not feel the same way I did in that house?” I shook my head quickly.
”No-No, I did. I felt—I didn’t think you did.”
”Fuck,” he gasped, I forgot I still grinded down on him. “I-I felt it immediately when we walked in.”
”Me too.”
I broke eye contact first. And it was an accident. I couldn’t simply be on top of him like this, both of us half naked, and not take in his appearance. His hands replaced themselves on my hips as my hands dragged across his skin.
“Fuck—“ I heard him gasp and I looked back at him. His eyes closed and lips parted with pleasure. So of course I thrusted my hips again and again. I would do anything to see that face as long as possible.
“Need to feel you,” I whined as my fingers pushed past the band of his underwear.
”You already can.” I glared at him. A stupid smile pulled at his dark lips.
”I want you in me.” He couldn’t joke anymore. That smile fell and he didn’t break eye contact as we pulled his underwear off. I said I needed to see that face as much as possible.
He gasped and moaned my name sweetly as his head tipped back. I stroked him slowly and watched every expression across his face. I couldn’t look away; at that point, it became an addiction.
”Come on,” he moaned. He lifted himself up again. “Take—Let me take this off.” His hands were rougher. This time my body tensed when he touched me. His hands yanked down my underwear and he quickly tugged me back on his lap.
He stayed sitting still and his hands held my hips in place.
”Want you to ride me baby, can you do that?”
“Yes—“ I didn’t mean to whine, to sound so out of it already, but I couldn’t believe what was happening. I couldn’t believe it had gotten to this point; that this was our reality now. He was my reality now, and nothing could tear him from it.
My arms rested around his neck as he looked up at me. I was glad I could hold myself up; his hands found my hips and moved my body because I was so far gone from myself. The second I felt him against me, I pulled my hips back so that I could grind on him and not let him slip inside yet.
“Oh my god,” he gasped as his eyes closed in surprise. My moans mixed with his as he guided me against him. Everytime he tried to take me further, I pulled away. I knew it was mean, maybe a little fun to tease him, but it felt too good to not drag it out for a little while. “Come on,” he whispered.
”Impatient?” I asked. He glared up at me.
”Could you imagine if this was all real for a second?” I tried. But then he went on: “If it is true and we’re soul tied and reincarnation is real, that means I haven’t fucked you for like 160 years or something—“
”Oh my god!” I burst out laughing. “Not you trying to use the soul tie to get inside me—Colby!”
It felt like the wind was knocked out of me when he pulled me down on him. My hands held onto him, neck and arm, as he filled me to the brim. His eyes carefully watched my face even as I writhed with pleasure.
“Oh my god, holy fuck—“ The words poured out of me laced with my moans, and he moaned loudly as he grabbed my hips and moved me up and down with him. I held his face with my hands so that he couldn’t look away, and I had no capacity to kiss him, so my thumb pulled at his bottom lip. He looked up at me like he was glued to me; completely hexed in my gaze.
Finally coming to my senses again, I rolled my hips against him, and his eyes rolled back.
”Baby,” he sighed. “You feel so damn good,” his moan broke into uneven laughs.
”You feel better,” I whispered. “Look so good.”
“Fuck, I need you.”
”I know,” I whined. “I need you harder.”
The words were hardly off my tongue when he flipped me over. I squealed when my back hit the bedding. He stood to the floor and pressed my knees back. Fire spread through my body when he thrusted against me. I tried to look down and watch when he drenched his tip through my fluids and teased me to hell and back.
”No, please inside—“
”Are you so impatient? It feels so good, doesn’t it?” Humiliation welled in my stomach at the disgustingly sweet tone in his voice. His fingers gouged into the flesh of my legs, and I held onto the blankets below me.
”Please, need you—”
”You sound so sweet for me, baby,” he teased with a light tone. “Did you not just do this to me?”
”Now am I supposed to tell you that I’ve waited for a hundred years for you to be inside—“ The wind was knocked out of me again when he thrusted inside of me, as deep as he could. “Colby,” I whispered his name. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t moan or say anything at all.
”Oh my—“ his eyes rolled back and he gasped another moan. Maybe his fingers left bruises in between my thighs, and maybe they even bled into crescent moons, but I didn’t care. The pain grounded me and reminded me that he was real. He was here for me, with me, in me; something inside of me screamed finally.
”Mine,” I gasped. I didn't know where it came from. A kind of primal possession washed over me when I looked at him. His eyebrows raised in surprise.
”What?” He gasped. “Mine? You think I’m yours, baby?”
”Yes—“ I coughed. “I’m yours.” He breathlessly moaned and leaned over me.
”Yeah, you’re mine too,” he groaned and kissed me bitterly. His teeth, his tongue, his lips burned as I bit back. And his hand found my throat. It was so difficult for both of us at this angle, and with a frustrated groan, he pulled back, grabbed me by the thighs again and lifted me to lay back on the pillows normally.
I gasped as I hit the bed, my hands still holding onto him. One of my legs hooked over his arm as his other hand held my throat again. It didn’t hurt, I could still breathe and see; it was to anchor my gaze on his.
“Mine,” he whispered. “You’re so mine, mine forever.”
He didn’t stop. It built and built under my skin until I had to close my eyes. My fingers made marks in his skin everywhere I touched him. I needed to curl up under his skin, I needed to be closer even if it was impossible.
“Yeah, are you baby?” I didn’t even realize I moaned still. It wound up inside of me, and he undid me faster than I could hold onto. “Want to come with me?”
”Please—“ I gasped and my eyes opened. He kissed me, his lips breaking skin below my chin, down my neck. “Close,” I said. It must have been a repeat.
”Oh my god, I’m going to,” he warned, and my hands found his neck, his hair again. I looked down between us, and his hand grabbed onto my waist. I was suffocated with the view of our bodies together, and I couldn’t even blink as he lost himself inside of me.
”Colby—“ I gasped, and so powerfully, my climax also came over me. He gasped and hesitated at the pressure, and he held me down to keep himself up. “No,” I somehow whined through my pleasure. I grabbed him and brought him down on me. I needed him close.
And he slowed.
My nails tore across the skin of his back, not enough to leave marks anymore, but enough for us to feel. Then, when he caught his breath, he left gentle kisses across my skin. I gasped as he slowly pulled out of me.
He grabbed a towel from the bathroom before he sat in between my legs.
”Colby—“ I went to stop him, but as he cleaned me, he kissed down my thigh. I hummed with satisfaction as he touched me, loved me.
”I’m still unsure if this is real or not,” he said when he raised to his knees again.
”Yeah,” I sighed a heavy breath. “Me too. If,” I let my mind wander. “If we’re soul tied, what does that mean for us? How easy for us will it be to communicate with spirits, then?” His eyes clicked up to me.
“That’s-That’s really interesting, actually. We need to test it out. As far as I saw today, though, when you were there, you like ushered in the most activity.”
“It could just be because I shared the same spirit with one of the ghosts there.” His eyes brows relaxed in thought. Then, they drifted back up to me.
”If it is real and we aren’t insane, then that means you brutally murdered a woman for me and our baby.” My eyes relaxed and glazed over. I watched him and my heart skipped a hot beat in my chest.
Him, our baby.
”And I’d do it again.”
✧˖*°࿐
Taglist (Comment to be added):
@a-random-google-user
@graceciesiels22
@honestlybabymiracle
#sam and colby#colby brock#sam golbach#18+ only#minors dni#colby brock smut#colby brock x reader#rosie writings#rosie hub#soulmates#soul ties#doppleganger#ouija board#reincarnation
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Get Off My Screen!
Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader
A/N: I'm doing this cuz someone wanted to see my shitposty idea hahaha, I hope it's not too OOC but oh well- I hope someone could write a proper fic with this since I don't trust my writing much HAHAHAHA
A/N: I'll also be doing this from the reader's POV for now. Just message me or request if you wanna see Vox's POV since it might be too long if I include his thingy in this post XD
College life is fun, do doubt about that; from the parties to the friends you make- it truly was unforgettable.
Even if you did study a lot, wanting to get high marks- you had time to indulge every once in a while and goof off with friends.
It made you a star student on paper- but nearly bordering troublesome with your chaotic behavior.
You were lucky to never have been caught with their shenanigans.
But of course your friends just had to push it.
A new ghost hunting hype trend surfaced online and they were convinced that they had to get into it.
You said it was a bad idea, getting into stuff you didn't know.
Your friends brushed you off and all piled into the attic of your parents' home.
Of course, your parents were more than happy to explain some things before leaving your group to their devices.
They've been messing with the... "paranormal" for most of their lives.
You just chose not to believe it.
It wasn't like there was proof aside from heresay anyways.
Your friends proceed to mess with the ouija board they found, among other probably possessed things.
You found it all way too creepy to be honest.
Especially that old CRT TV that was just sitting in the corner.
It was an old thing you remembered using, but it always glitched and stuttered when you were a kid.
Even if there wasn't actually anything wrong with it according to the technicians that tried to fix it over the years.
Your friends started screaming before you could really reminisce.
"WHO'S MOVING IT?!"
"I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING-"
"IT'S MOVINNGGGGGGG-"
The fact the ouija board was actually reacting slightly freaked you out.
You managed to calm your friends from bombarding the thing with questions before asking what actually mattered.
"What's your name?"
V... O... X...
That didn't sound like a demon name you were even vaguely familiar with, at least off the top of your head.
Then of course that creepy TV from your childhood turned on by itself.
Your friends were screaming bloody murder at this point.
You didn't even realize the fuss until you saw the darn thing was unplugged.
You freaked out too, bolting down the attic stairs with your friends quickly in tow.
It was smooth sailing afterwards, your parents assuring you that nothing would happen.
Your friends stayed for dinner until they had to go.
You were about to retire for the night as well until you realized you couldn't find your phone.
Everywhere you looked, it wasn't there.
That left one place.
The attic.
By the time you gathered the courage to return, everything seemed just fine.
The TV was finally turned off, how and why- you didn't bother enough to know.
So you picked up your phone off the floor and just headed to your room.
Only to practically get jumpscared when you opened your phone.
WHO PUT A FRIGGIN WEIRD GLITCHY SMILEY ON YOUR WALLPAPER?!
Annoyed, you switched it back before plugging it into the charger.
Come morning, you had a bone to pick with your lot of friends.
Because not only was your phone stuck with the wallpaper problem, soon were all your devices.
You tried everything, restarting your stuff, running an antivirus, even getting it professionally checked.
Nothing.
And the problem continued to persist.
Now at your wits' end, you figured whatever entity was messing with your gadgets could at least converse with you through said gadgets.
So you opened a blank notepad on your laptop, nearly glaring at the screen while waiting for something to happen.
Five minutes passed and nothing happened.
"OH YOU CRAPPY PIECE OF TECH JUST DO SOMETHING!"
Even more waiting and still nothing.
Eventually you just decided to type something up on the notepad in impatience.
"I know you're in there. Stop messing with me."
And to your surprise, something finally replied.
"Oh I know, you're just fun to mess with doll."
What. The. Fuck.
And that was how you met him.
Vox, the tech overlord demon, months ago.
When he infected your phone, then consequently the rest of your electronics too.
Since then he's been an annoying thorn in your side.
Well... or even a welcome distraction.
Maaaaybe even an odd Omegle Buddy?
Who even still does those?
Either way, you never had to use spellcheck again whenever doing your work.
Nor did you consult Google as often either.
As rude and annoying as he was, Vox was quite helpful when it came to paperwork.
Not that you didn't know much about him, on some days you would both just chat using the notepad.
He hated some radio guy named "Alastor"?
You would laugh if you weren't so tired.
Depending on Vox's mood, he was either tolerable or a downright prick.
Fighting over control of the cursor was also pretty common occurrence.
Vox practically living in your gadgets forced you to learn at least basic software care and programming.
The guy also ended up sorting your files!
You'd be more thankful if he wasn't so bitchy about your file arrangement anyway.
It wasn't that bad.
You want to call him your virtual friend- but he's more like an annoying virus that throws hissy fits from time to time.
Even if said hissy fits were either excessive amounts of lag or mostly obstructive visual glitches and pop ups.
The little shit was also constantly messing with you during class.
Not that he cared enough even if you told him you were, he'd still be messing with your notes or even your files every now and then.
You stopped trying to change wallpapers after you realized he kept switching them back to his grinning face.
Let's not even mention his multitude of custom emojis stuck in your device.
How that got there, you didn't care enough to figure out.
What a weirdo.
Though him constantly interacting with your software gave you an idea.
You saw your friend fawning over a thing called a "desktop pet" just a little ago in class.
They chose to get a virtual slime.
It piqued your interest after you saw it was interactive too.
And knowing that Vox liked to mess with your operating systems a lot, you decided to try and get one to see what he'd do.
You got the basic one, just a random anime "chibi" or so it was labeled on the website.
It walked around and did some emotes before a notepad opened up with a message.
"What the fuck is that."
"My new desktop companion, do you like it?"
You didn't get a reply so you just left to grab a snack.
You weren't even surprised with what you came back to.
Vox was already using the cursor to bully the desktop pet you downloaded.
Either throwing it around or just repeatedly spam clicking it so it fell over.
The sonova bitch-
You kind of expected it, just leaving Vox to do his thing while you went to take a nap.
Only, you didn't realize you would be coming back to a new custom desktop pet and an open note.
"You're welcome~"
If that was what Vox looked like, you couldn't deny it was cute.
Or at least the small desktop pet made it seem so.
It was a striking design for sure-
Did he have a monitor for a head??
Oh that explains the face on your screen wallpapers.
You didn't realize until too late that Vox could interact with you using the desktop pet either.
Sometimes the things he did were cute with it, like the emotes that were installed on the thing.
Or he was just a little shit closing your windows or dragging them off screen before you could notice and stop him.
He was an annoying bastard-
But you kept him around anyways.
A/N: I really had fun writing this thing, it hasn't gone romantic since I didn't know if I wanted it to go that route so this is more of a friendly thing? Either way I might write Vox's POV sooner or later this was a really fun idea HAHAHAHA
A/N: Vox's POV is here!! :3
#vox x reader#vox x you#hazbin vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox#x reader#Get Off My Screen Series
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the intersection of divination and unintentional spirit contact
Generally I'd say, no - divination (tarot cards, spirit/"ouija" boards, black mirrors, crystal balls, etc etc) in and of itself does not automatically conjure or evoke spirits.
If a spirit is already not in the space where you're performing divination, an act of divination will not spontaneously make spirits appear.
That being said, I have experienced and seen others experience increases in spiritual contact, activity, and awareness after "getting into" divination.
My goal in this post isn't to try to make people fearful of divination (which they should not be) but to try and highlight some of the nuances I've experienced at the intersection of divination and unintentional spirit contact.
Generally, we can divide these experiences into two categories.
There's a specific spirit who is already around, and they'd love an opportunity to chat, and,
"Hey spirit chums, isn't it neat that there's a new practitioner in town who's developing a consistent practice? Let's go over next time divination is open and say hi!"
You'll notice a distinct lack of a third category, "the demons you learned about in your nondenominational Protestant Sunday shool spontaneously appear and your house will one day be featured in a string of Amityville spinoffs."
Of course, not all divination occurs in unintended spirit contact. I'd hazard that a minority of all divinatory attempts end up this way.
So, what kind of specific spirits might already be around, wanting to chat?
I believe (and I'm not so unique in this belief) that spirits are just around us and within things, all the time. A person may have spirits in their home and yard; have spirits attached to family heirlooms; be watched over by ancestors, guides, angels, or protectors; or, in the case of many Seekers, have obtained the attention of various gods or other allies.
When a reader shuffles their tarot cards with the intent to access information they would not be able to have if not for magic, we can conceptualize that the reader is opening a little window and peering into the beyond. If spirits are "beyond," and wandering past the window, they have the ability to wave back and say howdy.
Sometimes - and, in my experience, rarely - these spirits will jut in and "take over" a reading in order to deliver some important message.
Much more often, spirits who push their way into a reading don't have anything important to say at all. They're not there because they're big, powerful, important, or relevant - they're there because it's something to do.
Many random spirits who are already around and like to show up to readings are just curious, don't particularly care about you, and are happy to be very weaselly if it means they get more attention from you. These spirits may be thrilled to claim that they are powerful demons, top-tier angels, faerie kings, your hitherto-unknown familiar spirit, and so forth.
A major giveaway is that they will often not reveal this identity until you specifically ask them if they are a faerie king, or whatever, and they'll agree that they are because to them this is Omegle and it's fun to have you on the hook.
These spirits are easy to get rid of, because they have exactly as much power over you during and after a reading as they had before the reading - which is to say, zero.
If these spirits are already not affecting your life, they will continue to not affect it once the reading is over. The fact that a reading occurred does not "magically" give them power or influence over you.
And again - while a reader worth their salt can intentionally petition helper spirits and ask to receive messages, it is pretty dang uncommon for a person's guides to force their ways into readings. More likely than not, you're dealing with some rando.
Now, all that being said - from time to time, various spirits demand attention and will use a reading as an excuse to get that attention. In my experience, this is a problem often experienced by people who are specifically spirit workers (although it can happen to others).
In circumstances like these, it's not a random curious spirit who's taking the opportunity to chat, nor is it a guide giving advice. Rather, a spirit has figured out that someone nearby can hear it, and it would like to engage your services.
It's not unheard of for a spirit worker (or very spiritually sensitive person) to take home a unique little trinket from the thrift shop, something that just catches their eye, something that makes them feel ways about things, and ignore it, and ignore it, and ignore it...
Until they open up the spirit board to try and do a meditation on the meanings of the runes, and the thrift shop spirit barges in and demands a proper shrine and maybe an offering every now and then.
Again, this isn't summoning, or conjuring, or whatever. The act of divination didn't cause the spirit to appear - it just created an opportunity for a spirit to speak.
The solution to getting rid of such a spirit is often to help it out, or respectfully remove it from the premises, or so on. That's spirit working stuff, and not a facet of divination.
But, what about people who experience an increase in general spiritual activity after readings?
Well, it's a bit like buying a new house and becoming very active in the neighborhood. The neighbors take notice of you. That attention doesn't stop the second the cookout ends and you go back inside.
I'm much less inclined to believe that divination alone will cause you to be an active member in your spiritual neighborhood. But many diviners are witches, pagans, or practitioners. They're not just reading cards, but also practicing spells, praying to gods, and modifying their own spiritual environment.
A witch who is attempting meditations to find their spirit guides, experimenting with full moon rituals, casting spells, and trying to take care of their local environment, should not really be that surprised if spirits start showing up wanting to hang out.
It doesn't mean that witch has special spirit-drawing powers (sorry), and it doesn't mean the runes you bought off Etsy are summoning demons - it means you're integrating with the spiritual reality around you.
Of course, people who don't desire random spirit contact don't have to just deal with it. There is a big difference between throwing a neighborhood bbq where anyone is invited, and having a private cookout for friends in the yard.
Spirits, by and large, often don't bother people who don't want to be bothered. Hang a big no solicitors sign on your spiritual house, and a lot of spirits just won't bother.
Again, I doubt that just reading tarot (even if you do it a lot) is going to suddenly inspire tons of spiritual contact. A lot of people work very hard to get spirits to talk to them. It's usually not as easy as coming into contact with spiritual tools.
Even direct divination that actively seeks contact with spirits (like, trying to channel someone's ancestors for them) often does not bring the spirit into the space - it's more like a two-way phone call. It doesn't actually bring the spirit to where you are and then set it loose.
Anyway. Unintended spirit contact while using divinatory tools does happen, but it's... usually not a big deal. It's often the equivalent of someone walking past your picnic at the park and saying, "some weather we're having!"
And in the random instances I've encountered where the spirit contact is actually a Situation, nine times out of ten, the spirit just wants a spirit worker to help them with someone so they can get on with their life.
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Woe out the Storm (10) - Crying Lightning
Wednesday Addams x female Reader
Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.
Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn
Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part
Word count: 4.4k
-Uninviting, but not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are-
“Are you going to tell me what happened two nights ago?” Wednesday’s question made you lower the book you were reading.
You sighed and got up from your bed. The lights in Wednesday and Enid’s part of the room were already dimmed as Wednesday set up candles and whatever else she needed to hold a séance. “I got attacked,” you knew better than to try and keep silent. Frankly, you were surprised Wednesday didn’t bring it up sooner.
She just turned to look at you, obviously not impressed by your very detailed explanation.
The look in her eyes made you look away as you leaned against the wall in her part of the room. “I went to mayor’s office, I thought I could dig up some information on all of this in the archive. Maybe figure out how all of this connects? Crackstone, the Gates family, that message burned onto the lawn, that monster, it can’t all be a coincidence, and then when I typed in ‘Fire will rain’ I felt that…” you still didn’t know how to describe whatever or whoever you saw.
“The one that attacked you,” Wednesday spoke up, causing you to nod.
“Can’t you give up? I don’t want that to happen to you as well and I’m not dumb enough to think it was an accident,” you finally looked at her again, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she’d let this case go. But she didn’t see that. Those eyes. The chill… it felt as if you were one moment from dying, as if your entire existence was left to the mercy of the one who attacked you.
No. Attack would imply actual effort. You didn’t even see it coming, you were effortlessly, utterly defeated and outclassed in every possible way.
Your dad was stronger than you, faster than you, had better range and control over his lightning. Being a raiju meant you were more dangerous than most outcasts, but as far as other raiju went, you weren’t even average.
You could still follow your dad. You could still understand and somewhat quantify the difference between the two of you.
You couldn’t even comprehend the difference between you and the one who attacked you.
“I’m not going to give up just like that,” yet Wednesday remained stubborn.
“Why do you even care about Nevermore in the first place?” you still couldn’t understand why it mattered to her to stop the school’s demise. She hated this place when she came here, saying she was forced to be here, she planned on running away and now she wanted to save it?
Wednesday paused for a moment. “It’s a challenge, I’m not backing away from one. You are free to stop involving yourself with me. In fact, I would prefer it if you did that,” she began lighting the candles and from where you were you couldn’t see her face.
Well, that stung. It stung way more than you were willing to admit to yourself. It wasn’t like you needed Wednesday’s approval, but her all but telling you to leave her alone just like that didn’t leave you entirely unaffected. “Right, I’ll leave you to,” you motioned to the candles and the Ouija board with the name ‘Goody’ written on it. “this,” maybe she just wasn’t in the mood.
Well, if that was what she wanted, maybe you really should give her some space. So, with that in mind, you went outside through the window and zapped to the roof. It was a nice, slightly cold night, with clear skies, meaning there wouldn’t be any storms tonight. Hell, you might even spend the night there.
You didn’t think you were delusional. In fact, you thought you had a fairly acceptable read on people, even ones as closed off as Wednesday. She cared, in her own way, and maybe she only showed it when you couldn’t see it, but she did. She stayed by your side the whole night, and for Wednesday that was huge. And the dance, and letting you keep her knife, and all the other small ways you managed to catch her showing you she cared.
You frowned, glaring at the stars and the Moon. Tomorrow was thirteenth, Wednesday’s birthday, and somehow, something just shifted between you two and there was a rift you weren’t sure how to deal with. Wednesday preferred being alone, sure, and you figured she wasn’t used to caring about people. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but a part of you thought that maybe, just maybe, she was trying to push you away because she wasn’t sure how to deal with those emotions. Or maybe you really were being delusional and were coping with the possibility that Wednesday plain and simple didn’t care and that she found your presence in her life annoying.
But she showed she cared. Thing said she cared!
You couldn’t help but groan, closing your eyes in frustration.
Why was she so complicated?!
~X~
Annoyed.
That’s what Wednesday was right now.
A surprise birthday party? A complete waste of her time, though an impressive subterfuge by whoever came up with this plan. Why were all these people here, anyway? They were Enid’s friends, well, most of them, she was sure Xavier was there because he liked her for whatever reason.
Still, she should have realized something wasn’t right when she saw the magazine cutouts used for the message. She didn’t pay enough attention to all the possibilities.
You not being there threw her off. Since it was Cracstone’s crypt going there would mean taking the boat and you wouldn’t approach that much water to save your own life, let alone for a surprise birthday party. So, despite Thing missing and suspicious invitation, she assumed you’d be there as well if her birthday was the reason behind the invitation.
Perhaps that was the logic behind your absence as well. That you being there might tip Wednesday off. Or perhaps she was giving whoever thought of this too much credit and you simply refused to face your greatest fear just to attend a party you probably knew Wednesday would despise.
Either way, her time was wasted, she was pushing you away successfully, and while that should have made her happy it was actually making her feel very irritated, and people she couldn’t care less about expected her to celebrate her birthday with them. If Enid absolutely had to throw her a surprise party, couldn’t she have done it in your own room, with just the four of you there. Wednesday might have even tolerated that enough to cut the cake.
Writing on the crypt caught her attention. “Wait, that’s Latin,” she knelt on one knee to take a better look. “Fire will rain, when I rise,” she translated.
“Okay, that’s not really a wish,” Enid said, but Wednesday was already too focused on the phrase to consider that. Maybe this wasn’t a complete waste of time after all.
“The first part of that was burned onto Nevermore’s lawn, it can’t be a coincidence,” she reached forward, touching the stone with the tips of her fingers and then it happened. The same sensation as her other visions overtook her and she found herself on the ground.
“Crackstone is coming,” she heard as she opened her eyes and realized she was in front of a gate she didn’t recognize.
“Goody,” she recognized the woman behind the gate and now that she wasn’t focused on other things happening in her vision, she realized it was almost like she was looking in a mirror. The only actual difference was the blonde hair. The height, the face, the resemblance was undeniably disturbing.
“You’re the Raven in my bloodline,” she spoke and disappeared. “Wednesday,” she appeared next to Wednesday.
Wednesday turned to her, finally she could ask what she wanted. “I was told you could teach me how to control my ability,” maybe that way she could at least predict when a vision would happen.
“There is no controlling a raging river. You must learn to navigate it without drowning. Time is not on our side,” she turned to the gate. “To stop Crackstone, this place you must seek.”
No teaching then, the dead were as disappointingly insistent on wasting her time as the living. “Do you always speak in riddles?”
“Do you always seek simple answers?” Goody replied immediately.
That irked her, for more than one reason. “Like using a raiju? I won’t do that,”
“You have no time for other solutions. Raiju is your best weapon,” there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation, just because Goody more than likely used her raiju. Not even her mother telling her many believed Goody was in love with him persuaded Wednesday to understand Goody.
She wasn’t in love with you, yet she refused to use you, to put your life in danger. “Y/N isn’t my weapon,” she wasn’t budging on this, she was adamant on standing her ground on this, no matter how unreasonable it would sound to Goody.
“She will be, when you realize this is bigger than one life,” driven mad by her desire for vengeance, Goody couldn’t stop herself, she couldn’t stop even if stopping meant she could keep her raiju by her side.
Wednesday glared, not only did Goody say she couldn’t teach her, but she also spoke as if Wednesday should just throw you into danger and Wednesday wouldn’t do that. No matter what Goody said.
“Do not grow attached to your raiju. The path of a Raven is a solitary one. You end up alone, unable to trust others, only seeing the darkness within them,” Goody warned her.
“Is that supposed to scare me?” she could already only see darkness in most people. And being alone was the best outcome for Wednesday.
“It should,” she vanished as if she was made of smoke. “Use your raiju,” her last words echoed and Wednesday despised how Goody went from saying ‘a’ raiju to ‘your’ raiju.
~X~
Wednesday’s attempts to push you away seemed to be failing miserably, as you casually approached her first thing in the morning with a long black box in hand.
“Hey, birthday girl,” you offered her a cheeky grin, confidently striding over to her table. At least you didn’t wish her happy birthday or open with the song, though being called ‘birthday girl’ was nearly as bad.
“Don’t call me that,” she warned, causing you to raise your hands in mock surrender.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you set the box on her table and took a step back. “I know things have been a bit, awkward, I guess, between us, but it’s your birthday, so I figured we can set it aside?” maybe she misread your confidence, because now that she properly looked you in the eyes she saw a hint of weakness, an uncertainty you were trying to cover up.
Doubt.
Her attempts were working, it wouldn’t take much longer to break your resolve.
It still didn’t feel as good as she hoped it would.
“Thank you,” she still thanked you as she carefully took the box, feeling the weight in her hands, it wasn’t too heavy, it was definitely lighter than it looked, so likely something that couldn’t be packed in a more convenient package. She glanced at you once more before opening the box. When she saw what was inside it not even she could hide her surprise.
“I did take one of your own, so I figured this was only fair,” you rubbed the back of your head sheepishly as she pulled the knife out of the box. It was a work of art, its weight perfect and handle perfect for a firm grip regardless of the intended use of the knife. The sheath was made of leather, light gray with black stripes. Wednesday pulled the knife out of it and slid her fingers across the side of the blade. The pitch-black steel looked sharp and the handle, decorated with light gray stripes, similar to those of a tiger, looked as if it was personalized. Was it one of your own knives? Wednesday knew you had your own collection, because you used them to zap around so you naturally developed an interest in knives, at least that was how you explained it when she asked.
“Was this your own knife?” she asked.
“It felt like the only gift worth giving,” you still wouldn’t look her in the eyes, and you clearly weren’t going to explain any further, so Wednesday didn’t push, at least this time.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely, setting the knife next to her typewriter.
You smiled, as if realizing how sincere her gratitude was, and took a couple of steps forward before crouching down and resting your forearms on her table. “Okay, I’m not going to ask you to confirm this, but I’ve been thinking, and I think you are dealing with something in your own way, and I might be wrong, but I feel like I should give you space.”
Somehow Wednesday’s cold dead heart sped up, hammering nails into her chest from the inside so hard she nearly looked down to see if nails were really coming out of her.
“I’ll give you all the space you want, but I’ll be right there,” you pointed your thumb behind you, toward your part of the room. “So, if you need or want me to go somewhere with you, I will,” you paused, or finished, but it sounded like you were just pausing. Still, you got back up so maybe you were done. “Just, if you think it might be dangerous, please let me come with you,” you requested, your gaze so soft Wednesday was now absolutely certain nails were about to pierce through her chest.
She needed to put a stop to this, because she had no control over what was happening between you two and that disturbed her, and not in a good way.
“Oh, yeah, uh, I shouldn’t say this, but heads up, Enid’s gift is… something, yeah, let’s go with that,” you chuckled uncomfortably, and that was the only warning Wednesday would get. Granted, it was more than enough for her to mentally prepare, but nothing could have prepared her for what Enid called a snood.
Not even her composure kept her jaw from dropping.
She wondered what kind of threat or blackmail you managed to use to avoid wearing one too, since the blonde werewolf clearly complained about you refusing to wear your own.
~X~
Wednesday Addams was a constant source of worry and you were just fully realizing that. “Did you just say she was in the back of mayor’s car when he got hit by a car?” you repeated what Enid just told you with your head clutched between your hands. How could one person go through so many things? That would probably remain a mystery to you.
“Wednesday!” Enid exclaimed when Wednesday came back, looking like nothing happened. Like there was no need to worry about what she saw. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m perfectly fine, in fact, it was on my bucket list,” of course it was. She met your worried gaze just for a moment and then made her way to her table to, soon enough, start her writing time. You figured you could give her some time, just like how she gave you some time after you were attacked.
You knew it wasn’t entirely fair to make a fuss about Wednesday sneaking out, when you did the same thing. Still, you were a raiju, in theory you could have dealt with almost anything, or at least escaped if needed. Wednesday was, aside from her vision, almost a normie.
So, you decided to give Wednesday a day to process every thought she had regarding what she saw.
You didn’t expect the next time Wednesday would speak to you would be while she was in the bathroom, calling you to come inside. And then, just as you stepped inside, the world went black.
~X~
You woke up to the feeling of excruciating pain as your body instinctively held the lightning in from bursting through. “Damn it, Wednesday!” you yelled, feeling the anger rise as you realized you were tied up in a bathtub filled with water. At least she placed you there in a way that didn’t allow you to drown.
She should have. Because you were going to be beyond angry when you got out. That is if you could. Sure, you could probably damage the ropes, but Thing was right there, guarding you and making sure you weren’t capable of bursting through with lightning. He was too close for a burst of lightning to actually work and set you free without hurting Thing in the process.
“Thing, buddy come on, get away so I can get free,” you pleaded, gritting your teeth as the pain increased. You were submerged up to your chest, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to stay in control over your lightning. If it continued like this you might actually shift right in the bathroom. Thing, however, refused, leaving no space for arguments as he confirmed his loyalties were primarily to Wednesday.
“Wednesday when I see you again,” you didn’t intend to give her space like this! How could she even do this to you?! Knowing full well what leaving you in water would mean for you! Insistent knocking on the window made your eyes widen. Maybe this torture could end.
“Wednesday!” Xavier called out, clearly from within the room. Usually, you’d complain about his nerve, but now you really didn’t care.
“Xavier! Get over here and grab Thing for me!” you yelled back and took a couple of deep breaths to make sure you were still in control over your lightning as he came in with his eyes covered. “You kinda need your eyes, and I have my clothes on, you dumbass,” you rolled your eyes, no longer having patience for any of this.
He opened his eyes and rushed outside the bathroom right away. You were expecting too much. “How did you even end up in that situation?!”
“Wednesday happened to me!” you snapped at him, glaring at Thing since he was the next best option with Wednesday gone for now. “Thing probably knows where she is, so go ahead and deal with that, just get him out of the bathroom,” you demanded.
You could hear Xavier taking deep breaths before rushing in and trying to grab Thing. Thing easily dodged him, but Xavier remained persistent and a few minutes later you could set yourself free. Now all that was left was to deal with Wednesday.
Thing gave in and revealed to Xavier Wednesday’s location, and you couldn’t help but glare at Thing. Seriously? Xavier got to know and you didn’t?! “I’m going after Wednesday. Do you want to come with me or-“ he stopped talking the moment he saw your glare. “I guess not. That’s fine! I’ll leave you alone!” he raised his arms, surrendering as he back away as quickly as he possibly could.
Xavier left you alone, knowing better than to stay close to you right now, especially since you were seething. Pushing you away was one thing. This? This was a whole other thing. You nearly tore your clothes off before grabbing a towel to dry off. And then you sat down at your table, your anger not fading even a fraction by the time Enid came back into the room, clearly distraught.
“What happened?” you were honestly surprised with how calm you sounded.
“Wednesday happened! She took me and Tyler to the Gates mansion and the monster was there! We could have died, Y/N! Tyler got hurt! Wednesday doesn’t care, she just wants to solve her mystery!” Enid cried out, and any other time you would have comforted her, you would have tried to calm her down, this time you just left the room, nearly slamming the doors behind you.
~X~
Somehow, Wednesday managed to avoid getting expelled, and she managed to avoid getting Enid and Xavier into trouble. It was a close call, and Tyler could have died, but she was one big step closer to solving this case. That was all that mattered, and she’d figure out how the mansion got cleared of all the evidence so quickly, she just needed to sit and think about it.
“Wednesday!” she froze near the top of the stairs. This was the first time she heard you that angry. Thing warned her you would get angry at her over what she did, she just didn’t realize just how angry you’d get. She didn’t see this kind of anger even when you faced Rowan.
Wednesday guessed your eyes were red and she was… wrong. They were flashing between red and orange.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” you stopped right at the top of the stairs as Wednesday climbed up the rest of the way.
“I was making sure you were giving me space,” she wasn’t going to show weakness to you. She wasn’t afraid, but she didn’t feel good either.
You snorted at that, clearly not happy with that response. You turned away from her, perhaps not even able to look at her with how angry you were. “It that how you call it? First you put me through pain and nearly forced me to shift and now you put Enid in danger! Both of you could have died!”
“No one died and-“ before she could finish her sentence you spun around and pointed your finger at her, nearly jabbing her in the chest.
“No! This is where you shut it! You’ve seen what that monster did to Rowan, you’ve seen what happened to me, yet you chose to take a normie and a werewolf that can’t wolf out with you to a place that is clearly connected to this entire mystery of yours,” you stopped yelling, but your words were still laced with so much rage you didn’t even need to yell for Wednesday to feel it. “And you might as well be a normie as well, since all you have are those visions. Why am I even trying, you won’t listen to me no matter what I say,” you took a step back, getting closer to the stairs. “You know what? I’m done. You win, Wednesday,” you pulled out the knife she threw at you, the same knife you decided to claim as your own and pushed it toward her. You waited just enough for Wednesday to figure out what you meant and wrap her fingers around the handle. “At least try not to die.”
You turned around, intent on going down the stairs. Against her every instinct, against her dislike for being touched or touching someone, she reached out and grabbed your hand. “Where are you going?” didn’t you hear the rain?
“To my shed,” at least you were still answering her questions even if the way you glared back at her made her uncomfortable.
“It’s raining,” she couldn’t look at you, yet she couldn’t let go of you either.
You pulled your hand away, yanked it out of Wednesday’s hold and for a moment Wednesday dared to think she would have preferred it if you electrocuted her. “Don’t,” you warned and you didn’t need to finish that sentence. She got the message loud and clear, she shouldn’t even think of interfering. Not after what happened tonight.
The words she should have said remained stuck in her throat, as if someone wrapped them in a barbed wire and forced Wednesday to swallow them. “Wait,” it wasn’t enough, you were already halfway down the stairs by the time she managed to force even that one word out.
And it was just the start. Not even ten minutes later she was left entirely alone. After you, Enid left as well, not as angry as you were, but upset nonetheless.
Wednesday couldn’t blame her. She didn’t ask for friends, but Enid became that to her regardless. And you… it felt different with you, it felt different than anything she ever felt before, and it was a powerful feeling she couldn’t even begin to handle.
For the first time in her life being alone didn’t feel so good and Wednesday curled up against the window, right at the middle of it. She shouldn’t feel like she was feeling right now, she should have been fine with this, happy that she got what she wanted, at least with you.
Enid leaving hurt as well, even if the kind of pain wasn’t the same, but that hurt as well. Wednesday realized far too late that somehow, the two of you tore your way into her heart and now your very absence hurt her. Thing came up to her shoulder, offering a comforting pat. Telling her that he was right would have hurt less than his compassion and reassurance that both you and Enid would come back.
Wednesday pulled her knees to her chest, hiding her face as she curled up as much as she could. The rain hitting the window, and lightning in the distance made her cover her ears. You were out there in the storm and it was all her fault. Abruptly, Wednesday got up and went to your part of the room, hoping that some distance from the windows would let her ignore the storm outside.
She wasn’t entirely sure how it got to that point, but in one moment she was standing in front of your bed and then she was taking her boots off, leaving them next to your bed and lying down, not even in her usual position. She just curled up once again and clutched your pillow.
She should have been honest with you, she should have told you about what her mother told her, she should have told you she wanted you to stay.
Somehow, she kept doing everything she shouldn’t have with you, or in some way connected with you. She shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed, but she did it anyway, and she didn’t wake up even when Thing pulled your thin blanket over her. And there, completely alone yet more surrounded by you than ever before, she remained for the rest of the night, her senses and emotions overwhelmed.
A/N: Four chapters in roughly a week? Honestly, I’m very happy with that. Please tell me what you think about this chapter, I’d really like to know if you think I’m making Wednesday seem OOC? Especially with the last scene.
#wednesday addams x female reader#wednesday addams x you#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday addams#wednesday netflix#enid sinclair#jenna ortega x reader
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True ouija boards are like turtles, a hard outer shell over soft inner guts. For those desiring a unique tattoo experience, one may couple a tattoo gun with the ouija's brainstem, bypassing the shell interface and inscribing messages from the beyond directly into the flesh.
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Dangantober Ghost Photo breakdown
Dangantober Ghost Photos
with some little behind the scenes ghost shenanigans
they may be ghosts for a while....
Full breakdown of each character below ↓
MAJOR DANGAN SPOILERS
The main idea was inspired by Sayaka, the avoidable tragedy of her death, and the vengeance that allowed her to name her killer from 'beyond the grave'
Each ghost is stuck, or trapped in some sort of loop, compelled to act according to certain 'rules', much like how they lived under monokuma within the Killing Game.
Each rule has some connection to a ghost's talent, aspect of their life, or death. Reminding them of their regrets in a fashion that wouldn't allow them to pass on.
Sayaka "Don’t swap the dormitory name plates."
Her fate in the game was a self-fulfilling prophecy. She was so scared of being trapped in the school, that she trapped herself. It seemed like a perfect stimulus for a ghost, going over the events of her death again and again, but never being able to break out of the cycle. She always leaves behind the message, as she'll never know if Makoto understood her regrets.
Mukuro "Don’t pick a fight in the gym."
Mukuro's haunting is based entirely on how her death was a result of picking a fight with monokuma, and how she loses everything. Her lingering grudge creates an animalistic aggressive atmosphere like a Fenrir Wolf, her stoic soldier persona lost as she lashes out at people who remind her of her failure. She hides herself like she did in life, only visible in reflections as Junko's shadow - and will try stab you in the back, playing out her own betrayal.
Leon "Don’t play with baseballs near the hallway"
It seemed like the worst fate for Leon would be being stuck, static in his unwanted role as The Ultimate Baseball Star. As with his murder, he couldn't help himself, but resorted back to those skills to dispose of evidence. His animosity making the game almost unplayable for everyone else, he releases all his frustrations toward himself, almost zombie like, at a scapegoat: baseball.
Chihiro "Don’t enter the locker rooms at night"
Chihiro's murder and trial was mostly co-opted by red-herrings, like Genocide Jack and the location of the murder. So the idea is that the story got warped by a series of Chinese whispers; Genocide Jack miscast as a 'bloody Mary' style urban legend, Chihiro a forgotten footnote. Based on how Hina thought Alter Ego was actually Chihiro's ghost; I thought the haunting could work more like a séance or a ouija board; asking Chihiro questions beyond the veil much like how AlterEgo helped the class, Chihiro is only trying to help.
Mondo "Don’t eat the butter in the cafeteria"
I REACHED for Mondo, I know! but he got turned into BUTTER! I wanted to incorporate his execution with his motive to murder, so his ghost is based on Calabar beans, supposedly able to sort the guilty and the innocent. If you swallow without worry the poison might not spread, but if you eat cautiously and chew; you'll die.
He appears slowly, enough that you can ignore him, the same why you might ignore your guilty conscience. He may be a hypocrite, but in a way he's trying to save you from his own fate.
Taka "Don’t pass notes in the classroom"
Not unlike Sayaka, it's another case of replaying actions when they were alive, but Taka is still continuing his role as 'Hall Monitor' His prompt is passing notes since that's what lead to his death, originally the note you were passed in class was going to be written by Taka but that felt like it broke his own rules. He disappears if he's ignored, much how he faded after Mondo's death. Ishida is only triggered if you interrupt his routine, disrupt his pace, and create disorder from what he sees as order, holding Mondo's pickaxe almost like a reaper's scythe.
Hifumi "Don’t play hooky in the art rooms"
I know Hifumi is the 'Ultimate Fanfic Creator' in the english, but my brain always autocorrects that to 'Doujin Author' instead. And given his focus on fandom culture, I thought his haunting playing out like a video game, something in the zeitgeist like Slenderman the Eight Pages would be appropriate. Originally I had you collecting his artworks, with Hifumi hunting you down, blinded by the blood covering his glasses. He creates his own narrative much like how Celeste convinced him to go through with the murder. He certainly casts himself as a 'protector', expressing glee at being justified in his actions.
Celeste "Don’t default on your debts"
As much as you could see Celeste's talent as unwholesome, she took absolute pride in it, and part of that was following through on a bet. Celeste does seem like the type to always find an angle; so she will find a way to exploit those around her into spoiling her, but that's not enough to dispel her stripped aristocracy. She's not in some vast ornate fireplace, she's in an incinerator where you burn rubbish. And the Versailles Witch won't let you get away if you get close enough to see her indignity.
Sakura "Don’t be disrespectful in the dojo"
Sakura was very difficult since, like Chihiro, she's got no real impetus to become a vengeful spirit at all. But given her choice to betray the class to protect her dojo, it would be cold comfort being forced to watch over a facsimile of a dojo, at arms length, in a fashion like Tantalus. Her statue is based on Nio, muscular wrestler like figures who stand at the entrance of shrines to protect them from evil. She functions a little like SCP-173, she can only move if she's not watched.
---
Given that the sdr2 kids were all remnants of despair, and all had the potential to be as monstrous as Junko - I tried to link them each to an urban legend or a cryptid or similar, to make them another degree removed from humanity.
Additionally, their rules are written to sound more like threats, than the THH kids' warnings, to make the distinction that they were more dangerous, far more active.
Imposter "Never copy someone else’s work"
There's a common belief that everyone has a doppelgänger, a normal extension of the concept that there are only so many different faces in the world, so some are bound to be potentially near identical. But it's often seen as a bad omen to see yours - a signifier of your imminent death, or maybe a tragedy. The Imposter craves the sensation being someone else, so they don't have to be left with the void that is their own personality. By reducing you to the imitation they show you a fraction of their own personal despair.
Teruteru "Never take someone’s food without asking"
Although it could be argued that all the ghosts are kinds of Poltergeists, but I wanted Teruteru to have less of a physical appearance but to express himself through the items in the kitchen - the thrown knives, the rattling pans, the food, much how he was truly himself whilst cooking, but outside of that he projected a false and vain persona, a persona which has been burned away. There's also a reference to the crimes he's implied to have committed whilst a remnant of despair, namely cannibalism.
Mahiru "Never record over something without checking"
A large part of Mahiru's philosophy surrounding photography is in capturing the smiles and happy memories of her subjects. Writing over any of those would be unthinkable to her. She's based on Spirit Photography, ghosts and apparitions appearing in celluloid, with some aspects of the Ring, a ghoul able to cross over and reach you through a medium which something shouldn't be able to. The AV equipment she haunts is supposed to have been left behind by classes 77 and 78, the only other echoes of them that remain at Hope's Peak.
Peko "Never knock on an occupied stall"
I know it's unfair! But she spends so much of case 1 in the toilet, and disposes of the evidence in case 2 in a bathroom.... Plus, I based her haunting on Hanako-san, a ghost who haunts a toilet stall, and only appears if someone knocks at her door. Peko cannot act alone - she can only act if she's called upon, if someone asks for her. Her multiple hands juggling the masks of the many identities she wears as she has none of her own. The colourful façade of 'Sparkling Justice' being her most memorable, and overriding her own face. Delicate yakuza tattoos wrap around her fingers, and she's missing her little finger on all but one of her hands - a common yakuza punishment for failure.
Ibuki "Never interrupt someone’s musical performance."
If Sayaka is a siren, Ibuki is a Banshee, not only due to her singing voice, but also as she heralds the death of Hiyoko. Ibuki became trapped in someone else's elaborate web which lead to her death, so in her haunt she becomes twisted within the threads of her own vocal chords - as a reference to how she couldn't tell anyone what was wrong due to the despair disease. Her exceptional hearing helping her locate you, like a spider finds flies through the vibrations of the web. I was also inspired by the so-called suicide song, Gloomy Sunday, and getting such a song stuck in your head
Hiyoko "Never taunt someone with hurtful names"
I wanted to make the rules more specific than just 'don't be a bully' so I used Hiyoko's vice of name calling as what makes her zone in on you; much how she picks apart insects when we first meet her.
She's mistaken for a Zashiki-warashi, a harmless child spirit, a Japanese yokai in ode to her love of traditional Japanese culture. She's actually closer to a Usutsuki-warashi, a bad-omen, spirit of a child culled during famine when there wasn't enough food to go around - much like Hiyoko was culled to remove her as a witness.
Mikan "Never feign being sick"
Mikan was partly based on Annabelle, the possessed Raggedy Anne doll, in how her innocent and clumsy nature belied the darkness beneath, but also how she was ultimately still just Junko's puppet on a string. Her only place of control is in the nurse's office where she can inflict her own feelings of helplessness onto her patients.
(but there was also definite inspiration from the Silent Hill 2 Nurses, not just in the eerie way they move, but also how they are objectified, much like how Mikan is.)
Nekomaru "Never cheat in a sporting event"
St. Elmo's Fire (witches fire not the movie) is an electrical phenom, an omen that precedes a lightning strike. Based on his appearance plus his transformation into the electrical Mechamaru, it also is reference to the electrical pulses that control the beating of the heart. Nekomaru essentially treating a bad-sportsman with the taste of a future where an infirmity forcibly retires them. Originally I had him drag them from underground to slow them to a crawl, but it seemed against Nekomaru's principles.
Gundham "Never harm an animal"
Gundham would probably revel in the exaggeration of his myth; it's what he would do when he was alive. He's one of the more cryptid like, more of an animal than a person anymore, his transformation based on a Rat King. This phenomenon is where several rats get their tails tangled together with dirt creating a ring of trapped rats encircling their knotted tails in the centre. I originally thought to recreate it with hamsters, but given his beloved Devas survived him, I thought keeping it being rats was better.
Nagito "Never throw something useful away"
Nagito is a difficult one since he would find no compunction continuing his test of hope vs despair, much as his role as servant in UDG. The Honest Axe parable has a woodsman drop his old axe into a lake, a river spirit offering him a gold and silver axe asking if those were the axe he dropped. If he refuses he is rewarded, but if he dishonestly accepts he his punished. If you accept Nagito's offer, you admit that you gave up on the item too soon, as a microcosm of giving up hope, you get a taste of his karmic luck as 'reward'.
Nagito probably has a very good idea how to break their bonds as ghosts and allow them to pass on, but he won't give the ultimates the answer so easily.
Chiaki "Never delete someone’s saved game"
Some of you were right on the money, Chiaki was based on Ben Drowned, I was originally going to draw her like the 'elegy of emptiness' link statue but it was so goofy, I went more classic .exe/doki doki style. Like many of the more positive characters, she's not really fit to be an evil spirit, and plus she was never actually a remnant of despair. The ominous foreboding feeling she gives you is a heightening of paranoia that would hopefully steer you away from contacting the other ghosts.
Junko
Is the culmination of everything, the source of every rule.
There's no despair after all if there's no one for her to torment, her vitriol enough to outlast her own death in canon by several games, she's dragged every victim into her purgatory.
Like with the killing game, those she's trapped with her have the chance to 'beat her' but the game is rigged in her favour. She may be unable to manifest unless every rule is broken, but she's a master of manipulation. She's been the one to spread the rumours, so that people actively seek out to 'break' her rules, supernatural happenings being encouraging rather than deterring, making more people tempted to see for themselves.
The ghosts were given just enough autonomy to believe they have agency, when they're trapped in Junko's loop.
If each ghost moved on, she'd have no one give her an endless stream of despair, no hauntings to spur on the thrill seekers/ghost chasers, no reason for all her rules to be actively broken by one person.
She'd be slowly forgotten, slowly dissipate, and essentially disappear.
Originally I had Junko's haunting take place in the principle's office, She would call you over the tannoy, but I chose to make it more ambiguous. The idea was that, were she able to manifest, she was the only truly fatal haunting.
Imagine the despair if they found a dead student in the principle's office.
I just wanted to thank everyone again, I had a lot of fun with this!
It isn't a strict au, so if you wanted to play around with it, go ahead :)
I hardly have a monopoly on ghost aus after all - there are loads of far better thought ones about, so if you liked this I'd recommend checking some out!
#danganronpa#danganronpa ghost au#dangantober#horror fiction#THH#SDR2#thh spoilers#sdr2 spoilers#long post#I do wanna say this was an october drawing/writing challenge#I was fully flying my the seat of my pants#god this took me way longer than I thought lol#I had to retype this TWICE I love tumbl
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How to communicate with spirits
Communicating with spirits is a topic that encompasses various beliefs and practices. While some people claim to have had experiences communicating with spirits, it's important to approach this subject with an open mind and a healthy dose of skepticism.
Here are a few methods that some individuals believe can be used to communicate with spirits:
Meditation and Visualization: Some people use meditation techniques to quiet their minds and create a receptive state for spirit communication. Visualization can also be employed, imagining a connection or dialogue with the spirit realm.
Séances: A séance is a gathering of individuals attempting to communicate with spirits. Usually led by a medium, participants create a conducive environment and invoke spirits through various rituals and techniques. This method is often associated with spiritualism.
Automatic Writing: Automatic writing involves allowing a spirit to guide your hand as you write messages. The idea is to enter a relaxed state and let the spirit communicate through your writing instrument.
Ouija Boards: Ouija boards are flat boards with letters, numbers, and other symbols. Participants place their hands on a movable pointer (planchette) and ask questions, hoping to receive answers spelled out by the spirits. It's important to exercise caution and use Ouija boards responsibly.
EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomenon): EVP involves using audio recording devices to capture spirit voices that might not be audible to the human ear. This method often requires carefully reviewing recordings and listening for potential spirit responses.
Divination Tools: Some people use divination tools such as tarot cards, pendulums, or scrying mirrors to connect with spirits and seek their guidance. These tools are believed to facilitate communication and provide insights from the spirit realm.
It's worth noting that the existence of spirits and the efficacy of these methods are highly debated and can vary based on personal beliefs. If you decide to explore these practices, it's important to approach them with respect, caution, and an understanding of the potential risks involved.
It may also be helpful to seek guidance from experienced practitioners or spiritual leaders who can provide further insight and advice.
#spirit communication#witchblr#witchcore#witchcraft#witchlife#white witch#beginner witch#witch tips#grimoire#spirituality#book of shadows
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[Ghost Hunter reader, hiding in a closet after their entire team has been whipped out and messages telling them they'll never leave are scratched into the walls - using a ouija board]: Oh god- oh god- What the fuck do you want from me?!
[A new message appears on the walls]
D O Y O U L I K E M E?
[An invisible force slides your hands towards yes]
(Alt because both were funny to me)
[A new message appears on the walls]
C A L L M E
[The patchett slides over a string of numbers]
#yandere ghost#Ghost hunter reader#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere insert#yandere text#Crackpost
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ive apparently been petting two different cats on my street for a year and a half but only today did I see them both at the same time and said, out loud, "there's two of you??"
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Part 12: Share with Silence of the Trees
Master post
Jason has found a way to cross their language barrier! Danny still remembers how to spell things…he thinks he does at least. He knows letters and that’s important. There’s so much paper taped to the floor just so Danny can get across some sort of message.
He’d make an ouija board joke, but he’s more worried about Jazz right now, her blurry face and cries of pain are all he can think about. The sounds of his memory-nightmare repeat over and over in his mind.
Consequently, ‘Jazz’ is the first word he spells.
And of course Jason doesn’t know what he’s trying to tell him.
‘Help’ is the second word but that just makes Jason more confused. After some questions he narrows it down to a person named Jazz, but he’s not quite getting the picture. Jason thinks that Jazz is someone who can help Danny.
“N-O”
“U H-E-L-P J-A-Z-Z”
After a second, he tacks on, “P-L-Z”
There’s more questions and Danny doesn’t know the answers, he just keeps hearing her cries of pain in his mind and they need to make sure she’s okay.
Something in his eyes must spur Jason on, because he decides to tackle the questioning a different way. He has Danny describe Jazz.
“R-E-D H-A-I-R G-E-N-T-L-E H-A-N-D-S F-A-M-I-L-Y”
“What about a last name? Do you know their last name?”
And Danny tries. Oh does he try but his mind won’t give him that.
“D-O-N-T R-E-M-E-M-B-E-R”
“Okay,” Jason let’s out a reassuring hum. “That’s alright let’s see if we can’t figure out any details that might help me find her.”
“B-I-G-G-E-R T-H-A-N M-E” Danny roots his nose in the direction of his real body.
“Do you remember who you are?”
“S-O-M-E” Danny only hesitates a moment before adding “I A-M D-A-N-N-Y B-U-T A-L-S-O P-H-A-N-T-O-M.”
“Do you know where you came from? Gotham?”
He shakes his head. “N-O-T G-O-T-H-A-M I D-O-N-T K-N-O-W”
They go through a few more questions, most of which Danny doesn’t know the answer or has only a vague niggling memory he can’t access. It’s frustrating for both him and Jason. That Jason is so patient with Danny’s non-answers has him feeling grateful. He knows his faulty mind is not helping. He has memories but no context, no names and blurry faces and gaps where he has no clue what happened.
Their charades/ouija board session is interrupted by one of Jason’s phones going off.
“Ugh, Christ on a cracker…Firefly broke out of Arkham,” he says, looking up from the phone with a sigh. “I better make sure they get him roped in before he burns down half the alley.”
Danny nods. He hates that Jason goes into such danger, but he understands that he would be just as bad if their situations were reversed.
As such, when Jason leaves, he settles into his routine of pacing the border closest to where he can feel Jason. He flows down the side of the building and into the alley, then back up again. Crossing gaps that mortal creatures would never dream of leaping. He’s dead though and the dead don’t heed the laws of gravity or pesky things like physics. He’s dead…
…and why does that sit wrong in his mouth, on his brain?
Because he’s not.
His hackles flare as rage and panic flare from Jason. That he can sense it so strongly from this far away speaks volumes to how strong Jason’s emotions are raging right now. They hit him again, stronger.
Protect.
Failed once. Never again.
Protect.
PROTECT
Danny bolts towards Jason only to dissipate at the edge of how far he can be from his body. He growls at the invisible edge of the barrier as he reforms but it trails off into a whine as Jason’s panic escalates. There’s only one way to reach Jason.
To protect…
He doesn’t hesitate this time, when he dives into his body with the intention of coming back up with bipedal limbs and a mouth that can use words. He doesn’t get lost in the melded and warped memories that bombard him. He fights through emotions both new and old, fighting through his old self and swimming ever deeper into his body and mind.
He gasps awake with a sound like a drowning man coming up for air or the dead rising to life. It’s a breath that rattles his ribs and aches across those muscles between each one. His eyes flash open and his body feels wrong wrong Wrong but Jason’s call to protect is louder and more important than this minor inconvenience.
He can sense it better now, the details of Jason’s angry war cry. His brother, his kin is in danger.
He flexes fingers just to feel them working and he bolts. He doesn’t bother to go around anything, not when he’s used to being mostly incorporeal. The scenery blurs by as he races on and on, hoping beyond all hope that he can make it in time.
The smoke lingering in the air is the first sign of trouble. The second being Jason trying to throw himself into the burning building. The building his kin is most likely in.
Danny doesn’t hesitate, he takes barely even a second to get a sense of the most likely locations to search based on the flames and to decide the best way to sweep the warehouse fully before diving into the smoke.
He can’t miss. He can’t fail.
Not again.
Intangibility keeps the flames from burning him but the heat of the air is still stifling and the smoke tickling at his nose, daring him to breathe it in. He’s lucky he doesn’t need to breathe like this. It still burns his eyes but that’s fine because crying from smoke will hide the tears of fear. Fear that he won’t find Jason’s sibling in time.
The fear only grows the longer he searches without result. The creeping dread of what he will or won’t find crawls up his spine, and he has a spine it can crawl up now. He would almost rather go back to his spectral form, save for the fact that he would be unable to touch Jason’s brother.
On another pass, he spots Jason struggling through the smoke and flames. He shoves him back out of the building with stinging eyes and tear stained cheeks. He cannot fail but he also cannot lose Jason so he returns to his search with a dogged determination.
He’s nearly keening aloud by the time he finally stumbles across Red Robin crumpled in a storage closet. He can hear his heart beating and it looks like he’s breathing. Danny doesn’t have a good way to cover Red Robin’s nose and mouth. Neither of the fabrics they’re wearing are conducive to breathing through and it will take too much time to rifle through all of the pouches on the bird’s belts intangibly. He finally decides on covering the little exposed skin with his cloak and rushing out, hopefully fast enough to avoid damage.
Humans can’t take heat like he can. How hot does the air have to be before it burns the lungs inhaling it?
He flies straight up and through the ceiling. There’s more smoke but it’s safer in Danny’s eyes. Once they’re clear of the building and the reaching flames, Danny darts towards Jason. He can sense him trying to climb back in and then he can see it.
His feet make no sound as he lands on the street behind Jason, so he lets out a crooning sort of croak.
~•~
Jason spins, eyes wide and searching, landing on the glowing white haired teen and his unconscious brother draped across their arms. Even with the cape still covering Tim’s face, he knows it’s Tim.
And the teen…
oh…
The teen is Spooky, Danny. He’d recognize that funky jumpsuit anywhere and those eyes are the same Lazarus green eyes he sees on a canid face every damn day.
He’s frozen mentally. Physically he’s moving forward to check Tim’s vitals and look for any obvious signs of injury but it’s all autopilot, all things that were drilled into him so that it became second nature, so that he could function even when his emotions are running wild like they are right now. He’s furious and relieved and anxious and surprised and ecstatic and so much more nuances of the same. It’s a cyclone of vicious emotions attempting to claw their way to the surface, fighting each other for the top spot.
His instincts purr, they’re safe they’re safe family is safe, while he gets on coms with Oracle to make sure she knows they’ve got Tim and that he’s alive.
He gently takes Tim off of Spooky’s hands and hoists him onto his hip like he’s a sleeping toddler so he can free one of his hands.
He gently reaches out to ruffle hair that has the same wispy feeling as before.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. Family, his instincts say. I love you, says the odd rumbling tone that ripples out from somewhere in his chest.
Danny clicks and a similar rumble in higher pitch comes from him and somehow Jason knows that it means, I love you too. Family.
Sooo… hey…
Life has been crazy for me this past month and a half and I’ve barely had any time off between taking care of my mom who’s been injured (broke her back), working a lot more hours bc my mom can’t, and then just a whole slew of family events, weddings, funerals, the whole shebang. I quite literally skipped a funeral this weekend so I could actually rest for a sec (to be fair it was set on a Sunday afternoon at a place thats like a 4-6 hour drive away and I can’t really afford to miss work since, well…my mom broke her back (she’s fine and recovering well so far we think). Gods I feel like one of those ao3 authors that shows up out of nowhere with some wild story but like this is my life rn.
But yeah, I’m still working on this and I have a plan for where I want this to go so it’s gonna keep going. I’ll either get way more productive in October/November or way less productive since I’m prepping for nanowrimo.
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Your reply on ao3 about your wife’s screenshot and being a cheerleader stuck with me, because I’ve realized I don’t actually articulate enough how amazing some writers (read: you) are. I finished the most recent chapter of soup (after eleven-thousand unacceptable distractions), and I was going to plunk together a quick comment that would absolutely not do enough justice to express the genius I find your writing to be. So instead I opened a google doc and started smashing my keyboard which resulted in a pretty long-winded... something, but allow me to fan-girl for like, a second:
The quality and style of your writing floors me every time. There is an effortlessness about it that makes it totally and completely bingeable but also something that gives a little more each time I read it. For me, it’s the most replayable form of literature: I can go back for the plot, for the character rapport, for the punchy dialogue, or for the voice of the narrator. It fits all the moods. It charms me. It amuses me. I want to hug it.
Your work excites me, and when I think of authors and works that excite me, I’m lumping you in with like, Heartburn which is an all-time favorite for that exact reason: I can binge it in a day or go back and sip on it and discover something clever and witty and just impossibly gorgeous in execution.
And speaking as someone who CANNOT for the life of me write something that doesn’t eventually tumble into a vat of angst, I also just adore the way you manage tension without losing the light-hearted reading experience. Holiday wine is a masterpiece, AND I think Soup is almost better because you juggle so much more: the chorus of characters are taking on their own plot lines, the stakes are higher, you add danger and adventure, you weave a more complex, interconnected storyline, and you massage it all beautifully to act as a supporting cast to the core of the story.
Which brings me to the trope (and a complete tangent): miscommunication. Like, ok look… I usually can’t stand it. But that’s mostly because of the execution: the obvious interruptions, the clear misdirection and disregard for natural intuition, the not asking the right questions, the very blatant ham-fisted forcefulness of it just… I can’t.
AND THEN YOU WENT AND MADE A MASTERCLASS OF IT.
You took every complaint you didn’t know I had and put in the work to make it believable. Kara is charmingly oblivious but not for lack of trying. She perfectly talks past Nia and Alex and Lena not just once but every. time. and every time is just so well-conceived and articulated and *gesticulates hands in the air wildly trying to find the right word* gah. The world of her confusion and misguidedness is so believable and commendable and *gesticulates again* gah. This is the absolute genius of the work. I will give kudos till I’m blue in the face about the story as a whole, but I will die on the ‘Easter crushed the miscommunication trope’ hill.
And this is just ONE EXAMPLE of how you knock it out of the park every single time. I could go on about how solidly you write the characters, how charming your prose is, how epic your one-shots are, or how I don’t even care that I can’t trust your chapter count anymore but this is already a run-on and I'm running out of air.
I don’t know how you write, if there is one draft or a million, if you just stream–of-conscious this into existence, or if you summon the words through a ouija board, but it’s brilliant and commendable and THANK YOU for doing what you’re doing.
so. this message is. a miracle? and you are a GIFT. and i’m not going to be able to elaborate much beyond that, because unlike you, i am terrible; at writing attentive notes, at handling compliments, and—hilariously, maybe, since i’ve finally started thinking of myself as a writer again after a decade of self-loathing false starts—at writing down my thoughts in an easily digestible way.
can i say it’s the nicest thing i’ve ever gotten from someone who isn’t (yet?) a close personal friend? that the timing of it was almost implausibly perfect because it arrived in the middle of the deep breathing exercises i was doing after being made aware of some deeply stupid twitter discourse around Soup that was going on right as i was getting ready to post its final chapter?
i think i’ll stick to the important stuff: like THANK YOU. like how your (AMAZING) note completely obliterated the bad stuff and made me excited not just to wrap up this fic, or even to jump into the next, but about doing it all in the first place. that it was a very needed reminder of what an immensely privileged position i’m in to be able to put something out online that brings people (you) enough joy that you want to come tell me about it. and, obviously, that the specific things you chose to highlight are extraordinarily flattering, and i am absolutely not immune to that kind of thing.
i went back and forth on publishing this ask because it feels almost embarrassing, and boastful. but whatever, you know? you made me feel good about my writing again and provided important perspective and ultimately you put thought and effort and overall awesomeness into it and i’m not going to hide that away when you intended it to be shared.
thank you. SO MUCH.
#also i’m totally going to cheat and add:#MISCOMMUNICATION MY BELOVED#if you’d told me a few years back that i was going to write a slapstick-adjacent romantic comedy of errors#i would have died a little inside#i LOATHED drama that only existed because people refused to open their mouths and speak to each other#you don’t know how thrilling it is to hear that you do too & that you think i got it RIGHT 🥳#anyway you. are a hero.#i’m going to be thinking about this one for a while!#ps it’s the ouija board. 100%#ask me things!#eqt-95#TSOS#YMHW
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𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 𝗦𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗦ᯓ★
Welcome to the masterlist from Sturniolo`s, it will be divided between Fanfictions, text messages and One Shots. Also between family content, content for adults. horror or suspense content and in Spanish
It is recommended to read with a black background, the list will be constantly updated, you can save it and check the updates.
Every week a survey is published to find out the order of publication, participate!
Comment on this post to be added to the taglist!
𝗢 𝗡 𝗘 𝗦 𝗛 𝗢 𝗧 𝗦
The Boy On The Ladder // Sturniolo.
A mini suspense story, starring the triplets! A horror AU for you to enjoy (suspense)
The Ouija // Sturniolo.
The boys play Ouija board with friends in an abandoned house. (suspense)
𝗧 𝗘 𝗫 𝗧 𝗦
Text Messages From Sturniolo's
Text messages from the boys.
NOTES: If you want to be on the taglist leave a comment to add yourself. Remember to like and share with your friends, thanks for reading!
#໒✦⋮ 𝟬𝟰𝟮𝟱𝟬𝟮 ༄ ˀˀ#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfiction#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo fluff#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew bernard sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo triplets smut#sturniolo fluff#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo#chris sturniolo soft#sturniolo smut
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Explain the basic: Divination tool
Desclaimer: Everything I will talk about is information that I got from books and sites online and even videos on YouTube. In my years of practice, I learned as much as I could out of curiosity and what works best for me. I suggest you do the same by learning as much as you can on your own (I will be here making posts teaching this kind of stuff) from multiple sources.
As a divination witch, I obviously work a lot with the divine, and what I'm about to say are just a few of the things you may use or perform in this type of witchcraft work.
A word of caution, though: I've worked with divine magic for a long time; don't get into it unless you know what you're doing, and especially not without defending yourself. In this list, I will clearly explain what each item does and how it works, and some of this is for a more "advanced" sort of witchcraft.
In witchcraft, there are numerous divination tools practitioners use to gain insight into the past, present, or future or to communicate with spiritual entities. I personally believe that it is the tool that chooses you, not you choosing the tool. Here are some common ones:
Tarot Cards:
A deck of 78 cards with various symbols and images that are interpreted in readings to gain insight into a question or situation.
These 78 cards are divided into major arcana and minor arcana. The major arcana may change with the deck that you choose, but the main symbolism is the same, and sometimes you will find decks that have more than just 78 cards.
Runes:
A rune is a letter in a set of related alphabets known as runic alphabets native to the Germanic peoples. The runes are an ancient method of divination used even before medieval times. Runes can be made of stone, wood, or other materials, and each symbol has its own meaning. You can easily make your own runes.
Crystal Ball Scrying/Scrying Mirror:
This requires gazing into a crystal ball or other reflective surface, such as a mirror, to obtain visions or insights. You do it by just looking at the shiny surface in low light, with nothing to distract you. Your vision will "blur," allowing you to experience visions or gain insights. There is a good reason why this happens. It's essentially our brain getting tired of our reflection and starting to make up new stories, but it's not all psychology since, as we all know, mirrors are gateways. So it is advised not to try this method unless you are an experienced witch or just lack protection, as you may invite something you do not want to invite.
Pendulum Divination:
A pendulum, often a crystal or metal weight on a chain, is used to answer yes-or-no questions or to indicate directions or choices.
The pendalum moves on its own, and before you start actually using it, I suggest you ask the pendalum which direction is yes and which is no. Much like the Ouija board, this object can be used to talk to spirits and ghosts, so be careful to always say thanks and say goodbye once you finish a session, even if it is not the primary use. Better safe than sorry.
Tea Leaf Reading:
Interpretation of patterns formed by tea leaves at the bottom of a cup after drinking. Practitioners see symbols and images in the leaves and use them for divination. that's it. that's the tea.
Astrology:
Reading and interpreting the positions and movements of celestial bodies to gain insight into personality traits, events, and relationships. that can be the oroscope, your birth chart etc.
Ouija Board:
A flat board marked with the letters of the alphabet, numbers, and other symbols. Participants use a planchette to spell out messages supposedly from spirits or other supernatural entities.
This is one of those tools that you don't have to play around with. It is not a game you can literally get into if you are not careful enough. The way that the Ouija board works is that you place your finger on the planchette; if you don't have a planchette, a metal ring will do just fine. Once you position it, you say, "Hello, im --- and i here to talk to only benevolent spirits, and only benevolent spirits can come true and talk to me." Once this part is done, it is NOT THE PLANCHETTE THAT MOVES YOU MOVE THE PLANCHETTE Hollywood lies to you; what a surprise! Once you are done chit-chatting with the spirits, make sure the spirits say goodbye. Say your goodbye, and once you are done, close the space and banish everything "bad" that may have come true. Again, better safe than sorry.
Numerology:
The study of the mystical significance of numbers and their influence on human life and events.
a good example will be angel numbers like 444 or 555
Dream Interpretation:
Analyzing the content and symbolism of dreams to gain insight into subconscious thoughts, emotions, and experiences. Dreams can tell a lot of our personal lives, and 100% of dreams know what's up before we ourselves know. Trust and follow your dreams.
These tools are often used in combination with intuition, ritual, and personal symbolism, and the effectiveness of each tool can vary depending on the practitioner's skill and connection with their craft.
#manifestation#manifesting#shifting methods#loa methods#manifestation method#spiritual development#manifesation#journal#explain the method#explained#witchcraft community#witchcraft#witchblr#wicca#baby witch#witch community#pagan witch#teaching witchcraft#witchcraft 101#witchcraft books#witchcraft smp#witchcraft aesthetic#manifestation theory#law of manifestation#manifestation tips#neville goddard#self concept#how to manifest#law of assumption#witch
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Signing Back In, Apparently - 15
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Pearl knew something was different today, something was wrong . Even still, it felt wrong to assume where he was going when he left the group for some time alone. It was wrong- and Mumbo didn’t deserve to live under her scrutiny no matter how much she wanted to protect him. They were both adults making their own adult decisions, and besides, Mumbo had granted her peace to work on her own Scar-related endeavors, so Pearl would give him the same opportunities.
But something was still wrong. The feeling never left her, not even after five, ten, fifteen minutes. In fact, Pearl only felt worse as the seconds passed, like something inextricably linked to her was about to be shattered. It didn’t take very long for her to excuse herself from the group as well, but only to better track the time. She could watch the clock in the tavern, pet Jellie, and most importantly, calm down. But Pearl did not calm down. She could hear talking from upstairs, one voice clearly Scar’s, but the tone sounded level. She yearned to hear a raised voice, or even a scuffle; anything for an excuse to intervene, but nothing felt like enough . She bit her lip, digging her nails into her legs. Scar could do anything. He could hurt Mumbo in a million different ways, and she would have to know she chose to sit and do nothing to stop it. Ten more minutes passed. Just when she couldn’t stand to stay away, she heard a door open, and Scar’s voice broke through more clearly.
“Now, don’t you get to thinking these wings are anything but a pain in the ass, but I will say, I’m starting to think there’s a reason my back has been feeling alright this week. Gosh, it’s even bearable now! That’s modern medicine for you!”
Pearl didn’t have much time to process before the door shut closed, and Scar came ambling down the stairs. He wore that smug-looking smile, as he always did, but his expression dropped upon seeing her on the landing.
“I go all week without seeing a wink of any of you, and bam! Two in the same hour! You’ve got good timing though, Pearl, Mumbo could use some support. He’s in quite the state, and for good reason,” Scar trailed off for a moment, snapping his fingers as if trying to retrieve a lost thought, “Ah, and you should know, I appreciate you! For keeping me on my toes, y’know? You’ve always had spirit, and I’m glad to see you’ve never lost that fire. Call me sentimental, but I’m feeling nostalgic,” Scar walked directly through her as he spoke, not even turning around as he continued, “Send Impulse and Grian my way, and they might get their own Scar patented appreciation message. Hell, maybe I’ll even let Cleo in on the action, she’s been dying to know about you guys, and I’m in quite the mood.”
Pearl didn’t stick around to hear more, the rest of Scar’s rambling fading into the background as she made her way up the stairs. If Scar was in this good of a mood after speaking with a ghost, something catastrophic must have happened. Given the energy pulsing from outside of Scar’s room, that seemed to be the case. She wasted no time before going inside.
“Oh god, Mumbo-” the words left Pearl’s mouth before she knew she was saying them, her body rushing forward. Mumbo’s rippling form was a heap on the floor, hardly recognizable as the shape of a person. He was literally falling apart; not just his back, but with cracks splintering through his arms, legs, face- Pearl had never seen it this bad. That damn ouija board sat on the ground beside him, and she couldn’t help but notice the blood splattered across the center. Had Scar been injured? She hadn’t noticed.. It didn’t matter now. Pearl felt something in her own form shift as she sat at his side.
“Pearl,” Mumbo’s voice came out as a wheeze, an odd, almost clicking noise behind the notes of his words, “Don’t be angry. Don’t.. Impulse and Grian..”
“I’m not angry, Mumbo, no one will be angry and you don’t have to worry, okay? Focus on yourself. Try and stay together. You’re going to get through this.” Out of habit, Pearl reached for Mumbo’s hand, but it was malformed, barbed(?) and beyond that, shattered into dozens of pieces. She bit her lip and settled for his arm instead, squeezing.
“I ruined the- I couldn’t stay away!” Mumbo nearly wailed, the desperation of his fear slamming through Pearl. She winced, keeping her tight hold. The clicks and buzzes spinning through Mumbo’s voice grew in volume and speed, “Don’t tell them. Don’t let them see. Please. ”
Pearl drew in a sharp breath as another crack fractured Mumbo’s body, accentuating his panic. Hiding this from Grian and Impulse.. No, it was undoubtedly a bad idea. Comparatively, she and Mumbo weren’t even very close, especially after their deaths. Pearl couldn’t help him alone . But would telling them send Mumbo over the edge? He was too fragile, she needed to be careful. She needed to prevent what happened to Grian from happening to Mumbo first, and then she could get more help. He needed to feel secure. She was going to have to try.
“I know a place, Mumbo, where we can talk just the two of us. Grian and Impulse don’t know, I only go when I need some time alone. No one will see you there.” Pearl held tight to the flash of hope in Mumbo’s eyes. For a second, his form slid back into something more solid as his focus changed to moving, to getting up, but flared again as his body moved in a hundred different pieces, none of which seemed to command much control.
“I can’t-” Mumbo’s voice peaked, panic rising.
“I’ll carry you. Don’t worry about the parts that lag behind, they’ll catch up. I’m kind of an expert in that department,” Pearl risked a small smile, gesturing to her torso, permanently split in two. The wretched look Mumbo returned to her was enough to shatter her heart into a thousand little pieces. She moved to scoop him up, taking extra care to hold his head and upper body together for some semblance of wholeness, letting the rest drag slowly behind. Relief fell over her when she felt his arms tighten around her back, even despite the barbs running down them. It was quite the effort to get around without spending too much time in the open, but her private spot just so happened to be underground, so she just needed to find a different route. Not too bad considering she knew this island like the back of her hand, but the pressure of Mumbo’s flickering form in her arms was enough to make her own body defect.
Finally, they made it. Pearl’s spot was a small cavern cut from the side of a cliff face, one of the only places on the island where the elevation was high enough to house anything underneath it. It looked out on the sea, and it was beautiful. It was hers. For a human, it would be treacherous to navigate; spiked rocks dotted the cave and the waters below, only barely hidden at low tide. Wouldn’t be very comfortable either, as rogue waves often broke through the entrance, soaking the floor and anyone unlucky enough to be standing too close. But she wasn’t human. The rocks made her feel safe, and the waves were exciting; she could almost feel their cold when they would crash through her body. She could almost remember the taste of the salty water. Regret pricked at her stomach knowing it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, especially if she managed to find Grian and Impulse. Well, there was no time to linger. She bent down at the back of the cavern, setting the largest pieces of Mumbo down while the rest caught up behind her. However, Mumbo only tightened his grip as Pearl tried to stand back up, so she joined him, if for no other reason than to save her back from being shredded.
“I’m not going anywhere, you’re going to be okay,” she whispered, met with a long silence. At this point, she wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign. What was she supposed to do? Should she ask what happened? Stay quiet? Would it be a bad thing to remind Mumbo he had claws or barbs or whatever it was on his arms, and that it very much hurt? Pearl began to feel like a cornered animal. She wasn’t built for this. Impulse was good at this kind of stuff- talking, emotions- and Grian always seemed to know how to say the right thing to release tension. Why had she anticipated a fight instead of whatever was happening here?
“Pearl,” Mumbo rasped, snapping her from her own thoughts, “It’s not going to get better. He- this was supposed to fix me, but I still feel it. The pull, it’s still there, and I got what I wanted and it’s still there.”
“I don’t understand,” Pearl looked for answers in his face, but it was buried in her shoulder. This helplessness hurt more than anything in the world. She couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t say anything, only looking dumbly at the back of his head, like staring would do anything to fix the cracks. Maybe instead, she could be angry. She could stop the man that did this. “What did Scar do, Mumbo?”
Mumbo’s body seized in response, possibly a reaction to Scar’s name, but Pearl couldn’t repress a yelp as Mumbo’s arms tore into her back.
“No- I’m hurting you!” Mumbo startled, pushing back with some pieces of his shattered legs, ultimately falling back when he lost his balance. “I can't- I’m sorry!” If Mumbo’s body had relaxed at all in these past minutes, all that progress was immediately erased, the air filling with more buzzes and clicks. Pearl nearly covered her eyes as his body rippled with color and light, but forced herself forward to grab him.
“You’re fine. It’s fine. I can handle it, I’ve seen a lot worse, you know that,” Pearl half-laughed, a strangled sound that only escaped her at her most stressed. She wasn’t cut out for this, not by herself! “We can fix this. I can fix this. We’ll put you back together once you get more solid. I can’t quite see how things fit yet, not that anything would go back in this state.”
“Pearl, Scar didn’t do this- I did this. It’s my fault.”
“Of course Scar did this,” Pearl fell back on her anger, letting it take the lead, “ What happened? I can find a way- I can do something. I can keep this from happening again.” She tried not to think about how she had made that same vow just weeks prior. Pearl frowned as the memory of Grian’s disfigured body surfaced, her form stirring in turn.
“ I trapped him, Pearl. I forced him to tell me-” Mumbo’s breath hitched, and Pearl was pretty sure his form shifted in turn, but she was starting to find it difficult to see, “I forced him to answer me. To tell me why he murdered us.”
“ What?”
“It was supposed to fix me, Pearl- to cut whatever is keeping me tied here- it- but it’s just worse. I’m never going to get away, Pearl. I’m stuck. I’m going to be stuck forever, dragging the rest of you down.”
“No, no, that can’t be true. It- that’s not good- but there has to be another solution to this. This- this is fine, actually! We can work on this!”
“ Pearl, I can’t move on! He told me exactly what I needed to know, and it did nothing. It was supposed to release me!”
“I know, I understand, but maybe it wasn’t- maybe you just needed something different, something you might not even know yet? Mumbo, it’s not over for you, I promise. You can’t panic. If all else fails, this will end when Scar is dead, and trust me , I’m working on it. We will all be free.”
“But- what if it doesn’t work?”
“Listen, I know my past attempts have gone poorly, but with The Haunted Island, when we go back I’ll-”
“ No Pearl. I mean what if he dies, and we’re still stuck. What if it just doesn't work. I know exactly what I wanted from Scar- he told me everything and nothing changed. I don’t- what if it’s really just hopeless.”
His words stopped Pearl in her tracks, but it was only a moment before she recovered, “That’s impossible. Our ties, all of our ties , are to Scar. We go wherever he goes, and if he’s dead, those ties can’t exist anymore. Plus, it’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better.”
“How do you know that for sure? What if he dies and we’re all stuck at that spot? What if he comes back as a ghost or- something else,” Mumbo stuttered at the last idea, curling into himself, “I don’t know what Cub did, but it’s changing him I think. I don’t know. Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s fine.”
Pearl opened her mouth to argue, but the words dried on her tongue. Was this about the wings? Hadn’t Scar mentioned them earlier..? Something about his back.. oh. No. No, that was impossible. Killing Scar would fix this, it would solve everything. It- it had to solve everything.
“Pearl, your body- no, I.. I’m sorry, I didn’t-” Mumbo put his hands- arms- over his face, his eyes? Did he still have them? He must, if he could see her. Pearl, on the other hand, was finding it much harder to see. What was happening to her body? The lines of her form were bright and blurry; it hurt to look for too long. And they were.. shifting? Ah.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, Mumbo. Let’s just- we can fix this.”
“You keep saying that, but I’m starting to think I’m only making everything worse.”
“No, no, this could be good!” Pearl felt something leave her, something important, but it was quickly replaced by a new excitement, almost manic in nature, “Mumbo, Grian when he- when this happened- he was physical, at least a little, wasn’t he?” Suddenly, it was getting much harder to talk. That was fine. She could be quick.
“Oh god, Pearl, this isn’t- you don’t want to-”
“He didn’t touch Scar, but he still managed to nearly kill him and- well- Grian could still touch ghosts too. If Scar comes back..”
“But ghosts can’t die .”
“I’ll destroy him. There won’t be anything left.”
“But-”
“Mumbo. Please,” Pearl had to strain to make her voice heard now, but that was okay. This had to happen. She wouldn’t hesitate again.
“ Pearl, ” she heard his voice, but was having a difficult time with his form. His silhouette just didn’t look right. Lankier in all the wrong places. Even now, his words were starting to fade into her periphery; she barely even registered the buzzes and clicks. “ I’m scared ,” broke through, heightening her awareness long enough to remember who was still here with her.
No, don’t be scared, you don’t have to be scared anymore. It’s going to be over. I’m going to fix everything.
But the words didn’t leave her. She wasn’t quite sure if she had a mouth to speak. Well this was a problem. She couldn’t lose control before letting the other, Mumbo , know it was alright. She reached forward two, no, four arms to hold him, to make sure he knew. The last thing she remembered thinking was how odd it felt to press against another unstable form. And then she, well, he felt a spike of panic, pain, the unabating dread that something was deeply wrong. But it was okay. It was okay. When Scar was destroyed, this would all end.
#hermitcraft#pirates smp#boatem#boatemghostsau#pearlescentmoon#mumbo jumbo#grian#gtws#goodtimeswithscar#impulsesv
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