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#reincarnation
poetrybyonur · 3 days
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“We've met before, in another time In another place.
We've loved before, a distant era, reborn to reencounter.
To love again, to lose each other again.” - Onur Taşkıran
(Music by Roberta Flack)
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kujiba · 15 hours
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#⎯May the land conceal you, dear grace
୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior
୨୧ — ꒰a/n; I made this at like 2 am so ik this is crappy
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Part one of ??
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AN HUMAN BEING - walked through the corridors of their apartment with a bag full of groceries on their hands. They have just finished running errands and now can finally take a rest after a busy day.
Approaching their apartment door. They took out their keys and inserted it into the key hold, stepping foot into their apartment room. They then started to take off their shoes and placed them near the door.
Putting the groceries aside and sitting carefully on their bed; they layed their head onto the soft pillow to rest. Sighing heavily, they turned their body to the side and reached down in their bag to get their phone, they opened the familiar famous mascot in genshin impact and got greeted with a bright light from their screen
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The land of freedom lived up to it's name as ever, as the sounds of livelyness echoed through the place, a bard can be found in the town square playing melodies that blessed anyones ears who would hear it.
Laughs and joy can be found after stormterror's attack has been finally put to a stop by a famous traveler. The familiar blonde hair boy walked through the roads of freedom being greeted with smiles and commissions.
"Ad astra-"
"We'll take the rewards now, thanks!" a flying fairy next to the Traveler said to a woman standing beside the counter
The Traveler reached his arm out to claim the rewards from the woman, but then after he gotten his rewards. A familiar brunette greeted them from behind
"Hey traveler and paimon!"
The brunette said giving them the warmest smile
"Oh hey amber! What's up?"
The familiar brunettes name being revealed to be Amber gave a small smile at paimons words putting her hands onto her hips
"Hehe, Nothing much really. After stormterror's attacks was finally put to a stop. Mondstadt has been more peaceful lately! I was just about to head out to clear hilichurl camps till I noticed the two of you"
Paimon nodded at Amber's words "Thats great to hear! The Traveler and paimon really became a hot topic around mondstadt today too!" Paimon said smiling gleefully "The Traveler and Paimon don't have much to do for today, Mind if we join you amber?"
Amber nodded "Sure! I mean I totally could deal with the camps myself but with the two of you it would be much quicker!" Amber said giggling a bit "No time to lose! If you're ready let's go"
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While walking (more like jogging) to the hilihurl camps Paimon decided to open up a conversation with Amber about something she's been thinking off.
"Hey amber, now that paimon thinks about it.. Who is this ' grace' person? Paimons been hearing alot about them recently!"
Amber looked at them both confused stopping in the middle of the forest to put her index finger on her chin. "You don't know our grace? Huh, I was sure you'd atleast get some information on them considering you guys been staying here in mondstat for, Quite some time."
Paimon then putted both of her index fingers in a X position denying the accusation of amber; Amber sighed playfully before facing them again with a small smile, "I don't blame you, people have been trying to cover up our grace after the incident. And I can't expect much after you've all been so busy being the honorary knight and hero's of mondstat!"
Amber then pointed up one of her fingers looking side to side before facing them again like a tutor. "hehehe, Well our grace is a bestwoned God who created Teyvat!"
Paimons eyes widened open hearing such a God making her flip back a little; on the other hand, Aether suddenly got more interested in this Teyvats God; 'maybe they know something about his sister that might make them reunite'
"huwaah!? Now that's some powerful God right there!" paimon said together with facing the Traveler; "Now that paimon thinks of it, don't you think this God has knowledge about your sister? I mean they did create Teyvat so surely they know something about your missing sister!" Paimon then turned to amber to ask questions about this Teyvats god
"Anywho, Do you know other things about this God amber? Or the story of them?"
Amber smiled softly at paimon, furthermore explaining to them what the story of their grace was.
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Long ago when Teyvat was still in production, a ruler was made just for the producing nation; the God was perfect in Teyvats eyes. They were kind, powerful, beautiful. The archons worshipped their grace with all their love, blood, and tears.
They thought Teyvat was perfect for their grace, that they had everything that they ever wished for... So why......
Why did they disappear?
Filled with grief Teyvat slowly started to become chaos, and thus, the archon war started. All of Teyvat overthought it, some accepted it thinking their grace wanted Teyvat to be independent. Some thought they had done something crucially wrong to make their grace disappear. Long many wanted to forget but they couldn't. So they went to the option of worshiping, surely you will comeback? They will be better they promise! But that day never came...
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"Or at least that's what I know from what I read from books!"
Amber said putting both her hands on her hips and having a shining presence around her; Looking back, Aether started to piece together the background of Teyvats god. but it all led to a dead end.
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The trio finally arrived at the hilihurl camps, amber was readying her bow and baron bunny while paimon just was at the sidelines for emotional support.
Aether meanwhile, was readying his sword when he felt a short voltage in his body the same feeling when he was always readying to fight; it was warm, like you're sleeping in the clouds with a fireplace near you to keep you warm. It felt so comforting; And in a blink of an eye the hilihurl camps were now gone.
Panting, Amber started to walk back where the duo was to check on them
"Wooh! Nothing out rider Amber can't handle!" Amber proudly exclaimed while Aether only looked at the grass.
He was so out of it that he started to lose focus on his surroundings but then another sudden jolt wakend him up.
He was cut off with his day dreaming when paimon was shaking him roughly to snap him out of it. "Hey.. Hey! Oh thank archons your caught out of your daze! Paimon thought you were possesed"
Paimon exclaimed putting both her hands on her hips looking like an angry mom; Aether rubbed the back of his neck apologetically "sorry.. paimon, I was just caught on something." Aether said looking at the sky thinking about the story amber said to them earlier whilst squinting his eyes.
"Teyvats God.."
"Hey wait a minute! There wasn't treasure at all here amber!"
"Whoops! Maybe I can treat you guys with some food at good hunters?"
"Hmph!"
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Looking at the final hilihurl that faded away onto your screen; you stretched your arms wide and exited out of the game, it's been 3 hours? Four? Doesn't matter. Putting your phone aside and readying yourself to bed; you failed to notice your phone lighting up and displaying the seven elements of Teyvat, all of them lighting up to their prestige colors.
Making a one final stretch to your arms before going back to bed, and tucking yourself in, slowly closing your eyes...
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Fluttering your eyes a bit, you suddenly felt like you were falling. Just like those dreams you've had but the thing is; you didn't land. You kept falling with no end to the nightmare, you tried to move but your body didn't respond, as if you were paralyzed.. starting to feel hopeless, You closed your eyes waiting for it to end and just wake back up from your bed; That was until you felt something grab your throat and drag you to the deepest bottom.
You were panicking, Why was this happening to you!? You couldn't open your eyes too even see what was happening, Your breathing was running out, pressure from the hand that grabbed you started to hurt and sting, you felt closer and closer to the ground and that's when-
Warmth .. You felt warmth; you previously were falling to your eternal doom thinking there is no way out of the panic and dread in your body But now.. You felt...
Kinda itchy.
It feels like your getting softly stabbed by something like grass; slowly opening your eyes you found yourself in a grassy pit with a beautiful scenery, hearing something close by; you turned your head around too see a small anemo slime watching over you. The anemo slime just squirmed and fled away to another direction.
you put both of your hands onto your face, hands trembling and face looking petrified; "What kind of drugs did I ate..." refusing to believe this is real you started to desperately pinch your self, and to your horror. It hurted.
Still refusing to believe this is real even tho there are plenty of evidence this is infact happening. You Stood up dusting off the remaining dirt in your clothes; you were amazed by the beautiful scenery that was upon you, it felt so familiar...
you see not too far by, a woman dress up in adventurer clothing who was cooking something at a fireplace, curiosity took in and you start to walk to the lady planning to also ask her questions about this place, hoping she does have answers.
"Uhm.. Excuse me" you said lightly tapping the woman's shoulder to make her look at you
The woman turned around to you following, with a smile "Oh uhm yes hello! What is it that you need?"
Going like you planned you started to ask her questions about this place, over time you learned that her name was Lynn it felt familiar to you-... Wait a sec...
After she was done explaining you thanked her while Lynn also handed out some food onto you. Walking around the clear and vast area you quickly learned where you were at now.
You were at the city of freedom it's self..
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themachomoron · 9 months
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If reincarnation is real I wonder how many people stare at their own art in museums, listen to their own music they made in a different life and read books they don't remember writing
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starcloudedsky · 7 months
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Arthur in the future discovering Google:
Arthurian legends
History for the past 1500 years
Where is Camelot now?
What happened to King Arthur’s unsent letters to Merlin?
How can I get something from an archive?
Can I keep something from an archive?
How much does it cost to buy an archive?
What is sexuality?
Why are people arguing King Arthur’s sexuality?
King Arthur’s wife.
What was king Arthur’s sexuality?
Am I gay quiz
Can I like both?
How to tell my best friend I’m not only attracted to women?
How to tell my best friend he’s hot without complimenting him?
What is fragile masculinity?
How can I have strong masculinity?
How to confidently compliment my best friend without hitting on him?
What’s no homo?
Can best friends hug?
(Edit: part two)
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frantic-fiction · 2 months
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I'll Find My Way Back to You
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(Can't find source of pic if it's yours let me know)
Astarion x GN!Reader
Prompt: A century after Tav passes Astarion comes across an artist who is oddly familiar and paints moments that seemed to be pulled straight from Astarion's life.
Thank you to @justporo for letting me use their idea. Go show them some love.
Warnings: Tav's death, brief mention of s*icide, angst with a happy ending
Word Count: 4.6k (Oops kinda went overboard)
Masterlist
“There’s no world I wish to live in without you,”
“My dear Astarion, we will find our way back to each other. This is not the end.”
Over a century has passed—a long, lonely century without Tav by his side. Astarion doesn’t understand how he’s endured, not with the void in his chest that appeared the moment he laid them to rest. The absence of his person, his love, his Tav, has left Astarion once again alone. 
For nearly a decade, he found himself trapped in a state of near-catatonia, a prisoner of time within their empty home. He wasted away, the days blending into one another, each marked by a silent ache in his chest—the void left by Tav’s departure. Tears soaked into the earth of the carefully tended grave, adorned with vibrant flowers from Tav’s garden. He often contemplated surrendering to the sun’s embrace, letting its rays turn his existence to ash for a semblance of peace.
He yearned to end the pain, yet he refrained. He made a promise whispered with heavy hearts and painful sobs—a promise that forced them to confront the harsh reality that Tav would always leave first. Instead of embracing the end, Astarion wasted away, a ghost of his former self, yearning for the return of his love. Change arrived when Tav visited him in a dream; the details were blurry, but Tav’s beautiful smile was etched in memory. The sweet words in that dream eluded him, yet upon waking, a faint lightness settled within him. Astarion graced the night with a flicker of energy for the first time since Tav’s passing.
Tav would have wished for him to move on. They would have wanted him to live. The stagnant life he clung to wasn’t what Tav would want for him. So that day, Astarion gathered his essentials into a bag and set forth as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. Only momentarily stopping to bid his love a final, tearful farewell. Since that moment, he hasn’t stopped moving.
Astarion believed Tav would take pride in the life he’s built—the good he’s accomplished over the many years. He traversed all over Faerun, from Waterdeep to Skull Crag, never lingering in one place for too long. He wasn’t the hero Tav was, but he aided towns against monsters, dispatched goblins, and took odd jobs to help however he could. Throughout his travels, he dedicated most of his time to sharing stories of Tav, ensuring their memory lived on. When he first heard the bards’ songs recounting the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, he knew he had succeeded. Now, you can’t sit in a tavern without hearing tales and melodies about Tav.
Every day, he longed for Tav to be by his side. He yearned to feel their soft skin, experience their tender kisses, and sense their warm arms encircling his waist—the echo of their laughter dancing in his ears. He missed every aspect of Tav and would do anything to see them again. Yet, the world ran out of miracles for him. Instead, he learned with time to cope, to come to terms with their absence, and keep them close to his heart. 
***
Astarion traverses the dusty cobblestone of Wyrm’s Crossing and finds himself back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate—a city he’s consciously avoided for most of the century. It’s a place drenched in memories from his past life with Cazador, but mostly, the streets seem to be haunted by the presence of Tav.
His return to Baldur’s Gate remains shrouded in mystery. All he can discern is that he awoke one day in Daggerford, gripped by an inexplicable yearning to revisit the city. A compelling force tugging him down the Sword Coast, Astarion initially dismissed it as mere homesickness, scoffing at the notion. Yet, the persistent thought lingered, infesting his mind until he could no longer ignore the instinct to return.
The city remains strikingly unaltered despite the passage of time and the trials it endured. The same piss-stained cobblestone, alleyways cluttered with remnants of urban life, and a diverse array of inhabitants navigating the night. It’s an unsettling constant, especially juxtaposed against the transformation of Astarion’s existence.
Wandering through the back alleys and side streets, Astarion meanders aimlessly. Occasionally, a sight triggers memories, evoking a lump in his throat. The Elfsong Tavern, once familiar, now bears a different name and identity, a formal establishment concealing the echoes of nights spent in Tav’s comforting embrace. Bloomride Park, the graveyard, and the docks—all weave together, painting a vivid tapestry of Tav’s omnipresence.
Amidst the tumult of emotions, Astarion grapples with why he subjected himself to this emotional turmoil. The urge to retreat, to flee Baldur’s Gate before the dawn breaks, lingers within him. Yet, the itch persists, buried deep within his bones, propelling him forward. He silently promises himself the night to wander the city, and by this time tomorrow, he will be on his way to another town for another adventure.
Venturing into a dim, isolated street, Astarion observes a solitary lamplight spilling its soft glow from a store window. Peering through, he discovers a small art studio. Within, a graceful elf seems to dance with a paintbrush, each stroke deliberate yet flowing. Like a harpie song, Astarion is mesmerized and utterly captivated. He watches on silently, observing the elves happily consumed with their work. It gives him a wave of nostalgia, moments of watching Tav as they painted, unaware he was watching from the door. Astarion could almost hear the sweet hums that filled the room between brush strokes. 
Then he freezes, gaze snapping to the paintings that adorn the studio, scattered reflections of his life. Images of Karlach, Shadowheart, and all the others grace the space. However, it’s the depictions of himself that seize his breath. Compelled by an unseen force, Astarion walks right into the studio. In a far corner, he sees an intimate portrayal—an embrace that resonates with familiarity. 
The bell rings, and you break from your artistic trance. Startled, you look up, and there stands the pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves. Startled, you look up, and there stands a pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves.
The dreams began as mere fragments—white curls, sharp teeth, delicate hands. Gradually, they evolved into more vivid scenes—muffled conversations by a campfire, laughter and gentle shoves, and stolen kisses between bed sheets—private moments of a stranger, a byproduct of an active imagination intertwined with an elven crush. Or at least that was what your mother would say. Now, the subject of those dreams stands before you.
Astarion, surrounded by the art that mirrors his life, fixates on a miniature portrait. The details are hazy, yet he recalls the campfire, the desperation in his gaze, and a significant confession followed by an embrace.
You pick up a fallen brush with a trembling hand, placing it in a water cup. Asterion was just as breathtakingly beautiful as your dream portrayed, but to see him in person has your heart hammering in your chest and your breath quickening with nerves. Wiping paint-covered hands on your smock, you took a deep breath and gathered the courage to approach Astarion. 
Staring at the portrait, you utter quietly, “This one’s my favorite. Though I wish I could have captured the others’ images better.”
“Tav.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The person you painted. My partner Tav, they used to paint too,” Astarion’s voice carries the weight of unspoken emotions.
“Oh, yes. They were the leader of your group, if I remember correctly. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Astarion remains silent, the canvas now a source of unbearable memories. He moves through the studio, examining the art up close. It’s weird to have your muse perusing around your gallery. It’s embarrassing to have Astarion see just how many pieces have been dedicated to him. What do you do at this point? Should you follow him, tell him about each piece and the dreams behind them? No, that seems pretentious, so you retreat to the canvas you’ve been working on for the better part of the week.
This piece was different—a symbol rather than a person or scene. Rings of unknown runes fan out in jagged edges, evoking a sense of beauty tinged with profound sadness. It disturbed you to your core, but you needed to paint it. It’s how it always goes. Once a dream pops into your head, whether it’s a scene, a person, or a symbol, it refuses to leave until you’ve laid it on a canvas. Picking up the brush, you dip it back into the red paint and continue to bolden the lines. 
“Who are you?” Astarion’s voice is right behind you; you jump, knocking a pot of paint over. Cursing softly, you quickly right the pot, attempting to salvage the spilled paint. Paint isn’t cheap, and in your non-upper-class circumstances, every drop is precious.
“Oh, I’m sorry; I have been very rude,” you offer your name. “I, of course, already know you, Astarion. It’s hard not to come across the tales of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, but I guess—” Your rambling trails off pathetically as something changes in Astarion. There’s tension in his shoulders, a coldness in his eyes. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously play with a loose thread on the smock.
Astarion scrutinizes you with a piercing gaze, his eyes lingering on your face as if searching for hidden truths. The air becomes taut, charged with an almost palpable intensity. Then, as if propelled by an unseen force, he reacts like a tightly wound rubber band snapping. Reaching out, he harshly pulls you to him, bearing his teeth at you. Your stomach drops, shocked by the aggression. 
“Have you been following me? Stalking me?” His voice carries a storm of anger, his grip on your shoulders unyielding, the coldness of his touch akin to ice piercing through the fabric of your being. “Don’t lie to me because I’ve shown one person that fucking scar, and I buried them.”
Your heart races, fear coursing through your veins as you whimper a response, tears welling up in your eyes. “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry,”
“Don’t lie!”
“Please, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know; I have dreams; I don’t know why, b-but I dream of you,” your voice falters, and your vulnerability is laid bare. “I dream of you, your friends, and places I’ve never been. I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I promise.”
As abruptly as his hands seized you, they vanished, leaving you stumbling to your knees, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your face. Curling in on yourself, you can’t stop the cries of apologies and promises of never picking up a brush again, of burning every last piece in the room. 
Astarion looks down at you, his expression shifting from anger to a complex amalgamation of horror and something else—perhaps realization. Stepping away, he leaves you rooted to the spot. Your gaze fixed blankly out the window. Odd and conflicting emotions swirl within you—fear, confusion, longing?—all clashing fiercely. Amidst the tumult, one thought emerges with undeniable clarity—this won’t be the last time you see Astarion.
*
Astarion’s breaths come in ragged gasps as he runs through the barren streets, escaping the grasp of the haunting memories that threaten to consume him. His thoughts are a raging storm, and he pays no heed to the bewildered faces of those he rudely pushes past. The town of Rivington is a blur as he sprints through it, a desperate escape, picking a direction and refusing to stop until his body aches, halting only when the sun begins its ascent above the horizon.
In his frantic need to run, there was no consideration for shelter from the sun’s relentless rays. Mercifully, he stumbles upon an abandoned cave. Dry, dusty, and shrouded in darkness, it becomes his refuge. In a corner, he sinks slowly against the cool, rough wall to the ground, seeking solace in the obscurity.
Astarion pulls his knee to his chest, pressing his forehead against his crossed arms. Shaking and shivering, a stark contrast to the bitter summer heat enveloping the cave, he clings to his vulnerability. Eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, fingernails dig deep into his arms as if attempting to anchor himself in the reality that threatens to crumble around him.
Desperation claws at him, and he yearns for Tav. The desire to feel Tav’s warm embrace, hands crossing over his chest, pulling him close, torments him. He longs for the soft whispers of love and the gentle press of lips. Astarion can’t navigate this without Tav. He’s a mess, barely holding on, living each agonizing day, acutely aware that the best part of him is gone, and he can do nothing to reclaim it.
The cruelty of encountering such intimate moments from his past life with Tav wounds him deeply. These were moments meant for him and Tav alone. Realizing that a stranger could capture those cherished memories intended for one person alone turns his stomach.
Anger becomes a conduit for his overwhelming emotions, and the terrified look on the artist’s face is etched in his mind, an indelible scar on his conscience. Shame burns within him, a searing reminder of the boundaries he violated. Physically assaulting someone in their own space—what would Tav think of him now?
The artist adds another layer to Astarion’s confusion. The familiarity is uncanny—the excited calf raises, the almost-stumbles afterward, the nervous lip biting, puffed cheeks during deep concentration, and the mindless dancing when no one is watching. Every little thing the artist did mirrored Tav, and with all his memories physically displayed, Asterion finds himself lost in a sea of confusion. Why does this stranger resemble his love so deeply?
The bards’ tales of soulmates and reincarnation, once dismissed as mere children’s stories and fiction, now claw at the edges of Astarion’s consciousness. What if? What if Tav found their way back to him? Weirder things have happened in his long life, and the possibility plants a seed of hope within him.
Yet, he forcefully suppresses that hope. It won’t serve him, not now. Instead, he resolves to learn more. By nightfall, he returns to the city, catching the first boat to Waterdeep. After a day and some change, he stands outside the Wizards’ tower, resentment simmering as he contemplates turning to Gale, his best chance at answers.
A groan escapes Astarion as he hangs his head, and a series of knocks echo on the thick wooden door. “This better be worth it…”
The door swings open on its own into a dimly lit foyer. Astarion follows a familiar path, the cool air and faint scent of ancient tomes embracing him. He ascends the staircase with nostalgia and reluctance, each step echoing the countless times Tav and himself sought knowledge and assistance within these walls.
As he pushes open the study door, a scene unfolds before him. Gale is hunched over a worn scroll, graying hair ruffled, and a small pair of reading glasses set on the tip of his nose. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, creating an intimate ambiance. Notes adorn the margins, evidence of Gale’s ceaseless quest for understanding.
Gale looks up, a broad, warm smile gracing his features, and Astarion is momentarily transported back to the times when this sage was only a joke he poked fun at across camp. Removing his reading glasses, Gale pushes up from his desk, an air of welcoming familiarity enveloping the room.
“Well, look who the tressym dragged in. How are you, Astarion?”
Astarion stiffens as he is pulled into a spontaneous hug by Gale. The embrace is both unexpected and oddly comforting, a physical manifestation of the genuine camaraderie they’ve shared through the years. Astarion, unaccustomed to such displays of affection, awkwardly pats Gale’s back before gently pulling away.
“I’m afraid I’ve been better.”
Gale’s eyes convey concern and understanding as he gestures for Astarion to sit. The worn chair creaks under the weight of memories and the weightier burden of Astarion’s troubled soul.
“Then sit down, my friend, and tell me how I can help.”
***
Days of tireless research and a network of favors exchanged between magical acquaintances have led them to a glimmer of hope. Though not expansive, the discovery hints at the possibility that souls entwined so tightly may have a magnetic pull toward each other. A pull is so strong that souls can find each other in different lifetimes. Tales have described soulmates experiencing memories from previous lifetimes together, but they were vague at best. The specific remains elusive, shrouded in mystery, yet it’s enough to kindle a spark of hope within Astarion’s lonely heart.
Gale, ever the bore, offers a gentle reminder, “Now, just remember, if you try to force feelings before—”
“I would never!” Astarion’s retort carries a venomous edge, an unspoken warning to watch his following words carefully. Gale raises his hands in defense. 
“My point is the brain is a prickly thing. It’s best not to rush anything it’s not ready for.”
“Yes, yes, you have said this five times already. Would you please activate the portal? I have an apology to make.”
Anticipation hums in the air, a palpable energy that courses through Astarion. A fleeting smile graces his lips, and for a moment, the weight of his grief is replaced by a glimmer of life.
Looking at Astarion with a fondness born of shared trials, Gale responds, “Of course, Astarion.”
With a confident shake of his wrist, he activates the magical circle, and the room is bathed in a radiant glow of bright runes, their purple luminescence dancing in the semi-darkness.
Astarion steps toward the portal, his heart pulsating with trepidation and newfound hope. However, before crossing the threshold, he turns around to face Gale, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Thank you, Gale. I will not forget this.”
“It was my pleasure. Now, I expect to meet this lovely artist sooner rather than later.” Gale’s parting words hang in the air, infused with the hope of rekindling a connection beyond the realms of understanding.
*
Back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion swiftly navigated the bustling streets, an air of anticipation accompanying him. His purpose was clear—to reach your studio and beg for your forgiveness. A brief pause along the way allowed him to acquire a small bundle of daisies, a spontaneous choice fueled by the memory of Tav’s fondness for these delicate blooms.
As Astarion approached the studio, a surge of uncertainty clawed at him. Hesitation gripped his every step, the shadow of fear etched across his features. The fear in your eyes during the last encounter was seared into his memory. Had his previous outburst irreparably damaged any chance of reconciliation? The conflicting forces of his desire to see you again and the instinct to flee wrestled within him. Yet, he pressed forward, forcing himself down the street, and there you stood.
The scene that greeted him was a chaotic masterpiece of colors. Paint adorned your cheeks and arms, a testament to the artistic fervor that consumed you. Your hair, a cascade of untamed strands, framed a face that mirrored both exhaustion and creative passion. Astarion had a sudden urge to brush the strands away and press a soft kiss to your cheek, something he often did with Tav.
Your weariness was palpable—shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded. Perhaps, he pondered, he should postpone this encounter, allowing you the reprieve of rest. The realization that he might be the last person you wanted to see compelled Astarion to take a step back, an unspoken retreat.
But just as he moved to leave, your eyes jumped up to meet his, you froze mid-stroke, and Astarion couldn’t read your expression. He should go. Why did he think this was a good idea? He’s just about to run when you nod for him to come in. Obliging, Astarion found himself standing awkwardly within the studio; you went back to painting. Your brush danced across the canvas, applying a vibrant shade of blue in deliberate strokes. Astarion’s attempts to break the silence faltered, his words dissolving into the room’s stillness.
“What are you doing here, Astarion?” The steadiness in your voice pierced the calm. You tried to hold on to your anger for the man all week. But upon seeing him standing so lost on the street had your resolve crumbling. You can’t deny the mild excitement that fluttered through your veins upon seeing him again.
His voice, momentarily lost, found its way back. “I-I came here to apologize for last week. My behavior was deplorable, and I wish to make things right.”
A wry amusement flickered in your eyes as you evaluated the bouquet, now slightly worse for wear under his tight grip. “And you believe a bundle of broken daisies would win you my forgiveness?”
Astarion, caught off guard, looked down at the bruised bouquet. “Um…well, I was hoping for roses, but they were fresh out.”
A snort escaped you as you put down your paintbrush and approached him. A tentative touch on his forearm transferred the flowers from his grasp to yours, eliciting a shiver down his spine. The longing to reach out is strong, but Astarion holds still as you retreat.
Intently studying the daisies, you began to divide the bundle into two piles. Astarion watched silently, recognizing echoes of Tav’s essence reflected in your actions. While understanding that you were not Tav, the profound sorrow gripping his heart seemed to ease in your presence.
“Half,” you declared suddenly.
“Pardon?”
“Half of the daisies survived.”
“And where does that leave us?”
With a theatrical flair, you pondered the question, pacing the room. “That, good sir, is the question. What is my forgiveness worth? I did luck out; daisies are my favorite, so you’re a step farther than roses would have gotten you.” 
Astarion, grasping the playful undertone, decided to play along. With a hand on his hips and a wicked smirk, he responded, “Well, I am a pretty lucky man. Now, please, I beg, what more can I do to gain your forgiveness?”
You hummed softly, tapping your chin. You keep Astarion in suspense for a moment before you suddenly turn to the man. “How about…I get dressed, you take me out to dinner, and we’ll go from there?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” The agreement hung in the air, a hope for something more lingering. 
***
The dinner evolved into an evening stroll, a seamless transition from pleasant chatter to playful banter. It was an unexpected evening, but the time spent with Astarion was so easy, so familiar you didn’t want it to end. Reading about the saviors of Baldur’s Gate was intriguing, and dreaming of a vampiric elf held its allure, but nothing compared to the tangible presence of the real Astarion.
Astarion embodied the epitome of perfection – handsome, intelligent, and endowed with a wit that had you giggling all night. He was the quintessential gentleman, the embodiment of every mother’s hopeful wish for their child.
What started as a single date quickly snowballed into a series of enchanting encounters – one date led to two, then five, until you found yourself drawn into his orbit every week. The pace was exhilarating, and being around Astarion felt like being charged with an electric current. It was not just addictive; it was a whirlwind of happiness, and you couldn’t help but revel in it.
If one indulged in whimsical tales, the idea that Astarion might be your soulmate would have crossed your mind. His ability to read you so intimately sometimes felt like he delved into the depths of your mind.
The dreams persisted, evolving into a kaleidoscope of memories that intertwined your moments with Astarion and a phantom era where someone else shared his company. Astarion, at times, would cast glances at you as you transferred another dream to canvas, an anticipation lingering in his eyes. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t veil the disappointment when the visions resulted in nothing more than another painting adorning the wall.
Then, it occurred on a serene spring day, three years since Astarion first entered your studio. The sun had yet to set, and you found solace curled up with Astarion. Limbs tangled, chests pressed together, hands intertwined – a tableau of intimate connection. His cold nose nestled against the crook of your neck, his white curls playfully tickling your nose.
Behind your closed eyelids, soft images of a forest clearing unfolded – Astarion shirtless, beckoning you towards him. Something clicked, and suddenly, the foreign memories that greeted you each night became a mosaic of your own experiences. The floodgates opened, overwhelming you with a lifetime of moments – kisses beneath the stars, laughter resonating around a campfire, and heart-stopping close calls with death.
Astarion often spoke of Tav, a robust and kind soul who played a pivotal role in shaping him. He wouldn’t be who he is today without them. You now knew a bit better; yes, you had nudged him along the way, but his growth was his own, and you couldn’t be more proud. To think of the years he spent without you, the grief he must have had to push through. If the roles were reversed, you don’t believe you would have been strong enough to keep going.
Startled from his slumber, Astarion found your body descending upon his, your hand meeting his chest with firm slaps. “Stop you, little gremlin.” Groggily, he attempted to restrain you in a tender embrace. He was met with your swift departure from his lap. He heard the patter of your feet retreating from the bed.
“You are a bastard, Astarion!”
Fully alert and by your side instantly, “What did I do, my sweet?”
Worry etched into every crease of his face as he cupped your jaw, looking frantically into your eyes. You intertwined your fingers with his, your other hand reaching out to caress the skin of his hip. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.
Astarion scrutinized your face, his eyes delving deep into yours. The faintest furrow of his brows betrayed his thoughts. As if following an unspoken script, he pulled you in by the waist, foreheads gently meeting.
Glistening with unshed tears, Astarion whispered, “You remember?” His voice trembled.
“Yes… maybe it’s all still tangled. But yes, I remember Tav – well, I remember us.”
Astarion’s smile widened, his fangs peeking out, and his lips met yours in a heated kiss spinning the two of you around the room. It was a slow dance of lips as if Astarion had all the time in the cosmos to savor this moment. While you could quickly lose yourself in the embrace, you were privy to all his subtle tricks. You turned your face when he attempted to draw you back into the kiss.
“Gods, Astarion, for three years, you knew and never said anything. I’ve painted you for almost as long as I could wield a brush, and for three years, you knew why!” Another slap graced his chest, and tears trickled down your cheeks, eagerly wiped away by his thumbs.
“I wanted to, my love. The moment I realized I wanted to. But this couldn’t be rushed; you can’t rush the mind.”
“Star, I’m so sorry I took so long,”
“No, stop; you took as long as you needed to return to me.” His forehead rests against yours once more, and the room stands still for a moment. “What matters is you’re here, in my arms, and I’m not letting go anytime soon.”
A choked sob mingled with a chuckle, and you nuzzled closer into Astarion, hiding your face into his neck. “Gods, I love you, Astarion.”
“And I love you.”
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Okay loves, let me know what you think. I've been working on this for over a week and still find some sections I'm not all that happy with, but I want to move on to other pieces. Any and every interaction makes my day.
Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna
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noisilyscreechingsong · 11 months
Text
As the (for a lack of a better word) god of balance and space, and being a halfa that is arguably immortal, Danny has the rare opportunity to reincarnate. Live again. Start over.
When Clockwork had originally told him he was immortal, he (understandably) assumed he meant he, Danny Fenton, could not die. He was wrong. As usual. Instead, it was that he, his soul, could not parish or cease to exist. Two very different things that he was forced to learn through experience when Danny Fenton died at the age of 64 from a car accident as mundane as that is, and ended up in the Ghost Zone to, presumably, ‘live’ the rest of his afterlife. It wasn’t until later when he fell asleep in his lair (first sign something was happening, ghosts don’t need to sleep) and woke up with his head fuzzy and body clumsy. He was a baby and it wasn’t until his mind was old enough to comprehend who he was that he understood he was living life again, this time as child in a different universe and different time.
And when he died again, this time very young from a sickness traveling through his village, he ended up in his lair again, as if he never left. The other ghosts understood after a brief explanation, but the process was still disorienting. Even if it happened again and again.
This time he was born into an odd place. He awoke from a large tube of green liquid. He had a mother named Talia and a Grandfather. He also had a father and older brother named Damian, but they lived in a different country and weren’t really on speaking terms it seemed. It also appeared he was born into a cult of some kind. Mother called it the League of Assassins and Grandfather called it his Legacy, the organization he built from the ground up. Oh and it all revolved around the green, bubbling pit below their home that had resurrection powers that may or may not make someone insane.
A connection to the dead in the basement, a family business, and a Frootloop with too much power. This was turning out to be a lot like his first life.
It’s the assassinations that bother him. He’s fine with killing to protect himself and to protect others. He’s even fine with mercy killings, but to kill someone who is unarmed and can’t even put up a fight is crossing a line.
Grandfather doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like a lot of what Danny does. He talks back too much, he doesn’t follow orders, he has too much of an imagination, he has a weak stomach and can’t see the big picture, he’s never good enough. He’s also compared to his big brother Damian a lot. He’s never even met the guy but knows he has a better fighting stance and climbed the mountain faster when he was Danny’s age. Danny doesn’t know if he wants to met Damian at all after hearing his name every time Grandfather criticizes him. The only thing Damian is to him is a standard to exceed.
And don’t get him started on his Father. Mother brags about him enough, but he’s obviously not here for a reason. He stole Damian from the family, Grandfather says, his golden heir. Danny is just the spare, filling in for his older brother who doesn’t want to come home. Of course, he takes everything with a grain of salt. Danny’s family also brainwashes and conditions people to follow them and die for them, it’s all twisted and manipulative. However, there’s bound to be some truth woven in there somewhere and it doesn’t look good for his biological father.
When Danny becomes the Demon’s Head, and with everything he’s been training for he WILL be the Head, the first thing he’s doing is cutting Grandfather’s head right off his shoulders and feeding it to the dogs. He’ll run this cult thing with actual morals and better management. Not too much change because then his position will be questioned, but over time he’ll bring about some good outcomes.
He does think his family believes they are doing things for the greater good, he just thinks they’ve lost sight of what’s important.
Danny’s not even bothered with not having a normal childhood. He’s lived it once or twice, it was quiet, nice, but ultimately boring. He enjoys the adventure and thrives on the action. He gets excited when he learns a new weapon and celebrates when he finally perfects that technique he’s been practicing. He’s proud when his mother compliments his precise aim in her own weird roundabout way of speaking and is awfully smug when Grandfather doesn’t say a word of criticism when he slaughters his opponents efficiently.
He has a crazy family, but it’s his. So it comes to no surprise that he feels a little unbalanced when his mother takes him to Gotham after some political tension between Grandfather and some group he’s not important enough to know.
He’s seven and has lived this entire life in Nanda Parbat, only visiting the other League locations a few times, where the weather is warm and the air is clean. Gotham is the opposite of his home. He remembers a life in Chicago, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the permanent smog covering the sky. Even if it was clear, the light pollution would hinder his view of the stars.
He already hated this place and was actively counting down the minutes until they could leave. Although he had a suspicion of why they were here. The tight lines beside his mother’s eyes gave away her reluctance, but her confident stance didn’t falter.
Danny watches as she meets with a man in a black superhero suit and what looks like a teenager in a different uniform. The pieces were finally coming together when Mother calls him to come out and he drops from the rafters to land on his feet like a cat.
Their two visitors stare hard at him and if he was in a different life he might have fidgeted under their intense attention. He does not.
“My son, this is your father and older brother.”
“Mother,” the teen- Danny’s brother, Damian, objects, “since when do I have a brother? Have you adopted like Father?”
In response, Danny pulls down the black mask to show the rest of his face and the clear resemblance between the two. Danny had more blue mixed with his green eyes to give a marbled effect and he had his mother’s jaw line but he still had his father’s lips and- actually that was all he could see, the cowl obstructing the rest of his features. Either way, there was no mistaking Danny and Damian as anything but brothers.
“Damian, meet your brother. I hope the two of you will get along and look out for one another.”
Like hell they will, Danny thinks bitterly. He’s spent pretty much this whole life being compared to the boy in front of him, there’s bound to be some resentment on his part.
“I thought he’d be taller,” he tells his mother, eyeing Damian up and down unimpressed.
Damian actually sputters.
“Talia,” his father says, demands, as if asking twenty questions in that one word.
“You will care for him while I’m away. It isn’t safe for him and I have work to do.”
Danny knew it was coming and yet he still felt the squeeze of panic and betrayal in his chest.
“Mother, don’t leave me here,” he almost whines but just manages to keep his voice steady. “I can stay in Switzerland or the Alps or somewhere else that is not here.”
Mother says his name with that amount of sharpness that lets him know she wasn’t changing her mind. He huffs angrily and glares at the two in front of him like it was their fault his was here in this disgusting city.
They don’t talk for much longer before Danny is following them back to a black suped-up car and Mother is nowhere in sight. The ride is silent, the others’ thoughts loud and leaving the vehicle suffocating.
Danny decides to make the process difficult for them, arguing when they ask for a blood sample to confirm, getting into things he clearly shouldn’t when he got bored, and being a little shit to anyone else that shows up in his path.
He knew nothing of this side of his family, his Mother only telling him how strong and honorable his father is and how proud she is of Damian despite his decision to not become the Demon’s Heir. This was his opportunity to watch and learn and maybe test their patience here and there. He didn’t want to be there, they didn’t want him there, so he was going to make this everyone’s problem and maybe formulate his own opinion of his father and brother in the meantime.
It doesn’t take much for him to tolerate the others Father has brought into his side of the family because he had no prior knowledge of them.
He respects Alfred, he can relate to Tim, Dick is a pun master that Danny can’t help but contribute, Jason is too cool not to like, Cass is kind, Steph is bubbly, Duke is probably the most normal, and Selina has a mischievousness to her that Danny can get behind.
Father is gruff. He always looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t. Danny isn’t used to that. Mother and Grandfather and even himself have the position of power to say what they want without much consequence. What’s stopping him?
It gets to a point where Danny snaps and demands he speak his mind or say what he’s feeling. It doesn’t go well but he thinks there might have been some progress in the days afterwards.
Damian is a different story. Danny doesn’t hate his brother, but he certainly doesn’t like him. He makes a point to show it through pranks on the older boy and trying to outplay him in competitions and bets the other sometimes doesn’t even agree to.
Danny can admire how passionate he is in his art and how devoted he is to caring for his animals, and even how much he reminds him of Sam from his first life, but it doesn’t erase the years of feeling less than the perfect first son.
This doesn’t really change until Damian comes back and goes directly to the medbay after a mission gone wrong. It takes Danny a moment to realize that he’s worried for his big brother. Damian is in pain and Danny does not like it. He wants to go out and kill the men who hurt his brother, make them pay for what they’ve done. He wants to be the one to stitch up his wounds and bring him soup.
It’s truly unfortunate that his obsession is protection, particularly around those he considers friends and family.
Danny tones down on the aggression towards Damian after that. He still pranks the teenager and teases him and challenges him to competitions and duels, but it’s more in a brotherly way than showing resentment. Damian definitely notices, but wisely doesn’t address it. Instead, Damian quietly talks about what he remembers and misses of Nanda Parbat when the two of them are alone, both of them actually having a conversation without raised voices or tense shoulders.
After a while Danny doesn’t even realize he isn’t counting the days anymore.
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lostuzumaki · 8 months
Text
Luffy reincarnated to past AU
Part 2
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Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 ...
If you have any ideas for next Part feel free to text me
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rosie-writings · 20 days
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Back to Eden
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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
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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: 
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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”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?”
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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.”
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Taglist (Comment to be added):
@a-random-google-user
@graceciesiels22
@honestlybabymiracle
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zegalba · 15 days
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Li Hui: Reincarnation (2007)
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ibrithir-was-here · 3 months
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Sooo I wrote a…weird little thing, a certain comic by @mayhemchicken-artblog got my creative juices percolating and under the press of staying up far too late for several days this came to fruition, enjoy!
The Eye of the Beholder
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Link to the Comic
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gr1mstar · 2 months
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Timeless lover - part II
notes: this is a second part of an one shot i did a few days ago. i don’t think it will be a part III because my account is dying? i think i was reported once and from then my post don’t get much the attention anymore. how can i fix this?
contains: sukuna ryomen x f!reader, reincarnation, past lovers, curse words (not a lot of them), sfw, human sukuna (from that time when he was actually human), flashbacks, lovers to strangers, mentions of death, sick reader (in the past), sorcerer reader (present time), sukuna has sentiments?, sukuna is soft for reader, past sukuna looks kinda like itadori yuji, not the same tho, but very similar, mention of pills, slightly an au because sukuna will never be this nice, reader is older than yuji but sukuna is older? that makes sense?
check out the first part first if you didn’t already - here
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“sukuna”
“sukuna. that’s my name, keep that in mind, doll” the man in front of you spoke, taking your chin in his big hands and forcing you to look him in the eyes.
‘what a shade of red…’ you thought, analyzing the irises that looked at you with almost hatred. ‘i despise red.’ you continued, continuing to look in his direction, seeing that he was not backing up.
“not afraid, i see. what a particular sight,” he muttered, finally leaving your chin alone. after some time, he took a few steps back, running his hand through his hair. “what are you exactly?”
“what do you mean?” you found yourself asking, now looking at the tree that stood tall beside you two.
“are you not afraid to die? people usually are scared of me, fearing that i would fight them and win, resulting in their death.” the man continued, taking a few steps just to be beside you.
thinking back, when you were younger you were afraid of death. it was a terrifying thought, but after all the bullshit you went through, you found yourself not having the exact same mentality.
your time was limited, death being the only thing you were certain it was coming for you. what did you have? nothing. so that’s why you set out to live your life to the fullest, or well… how much is left of it.
you were strong. stronger than others.
“no. only the weak are afraid.”
the familiar man that stood in front of you, one intimidating, now was a big puppy, his eyes showed emotions, emotions that a curse should never have. so what was different?
“my love, no time no see…” he stared, taking a few steps in your direction, his arms parting, beckoning you to come closer to him for a hug.
‘is he crazy? what happened to yuji?’ but you were never able to answer your question, because he interrupted your thoughts.
“didn't you miss me? i've been waiting for you for hundreds of years… love-”
“don’t. i am not such a thing.” now was your time to interrupt him, taking a step back. looking at your surroundings, you found megumi looking at you with shock, a light line of blood staining his face. “megumi,” you continued, addressing the back-haired boy, “run.”
“i think i will remember you always,” you confessed, looking at the man who stood behind you, a hand on your waist and the other in your hair.
looking at the sky, you could see the millions of stars smiling happily back at you. the night was peaceful, but you knew well that the following morning would not be.
“and you will never forget about the scolding you will receive tomorrow” he continued, placing a sweet kiss in your hair.
“maybe. but it was worth it. you deserve all my time”
“and you deserve all the world, my love.” was his response, closing his eyes and praying that you would be fine.
the stars were bright and you could not stop yourself from asking: ‘when i become a star too, i will shine this beautifully?’
“so. where is it?” the white-haired man asked, hands in his pocket and looking between me, megumi, and now-yuji-really-yuji.
there was a moment of silence, the sensei looking funnily at the three sorcerers. you found the silence ironic, so you tried to break it using a fake cough, but yuji beat you to it, speaking.
“i- i kinda ate that thing.”
another pause. now you were eyeing megumi, who looked somewhat constipated. it was true really, it was a very shitty moment-
“really?”
“yes, really. i am fine, kuna. you don’t need to worry, go to your mission, beat some ass, and came back to me for my cuddles, okay?” you tried to make a compromise, but the red-eye man that stood in front of you didn’t want to listen.
“i’m not going. the maid told me that you were feeling lightheaded all morning, i want to be with you-”
“but people would die if you’re not going, sukuna. i don’t want-”
“let them die fucking hell. who is more important?” he interrupted you, his angry face making you roll your eyes. he was a stubborn bitch when he wanted.
after a moment of silence, he started approaching you, taking your neck gently with his hand and making you look at him. “answer me. who is more important?”
you wanted to scream in his face that ‘the rest of the world is more important than me. who i am? a sick woman simping over a handsome man”, but you could not do that. it was going to make him more angry than he was already.
“me. i’m the important one.”
“good girl”
“so… what’s your relationship with sukuna? the king of curses, really?” the principal asked, looking from behind his glasses at you, with an eyebrow raised.
“i really don’t know. he looked at me… somewhat differently than the rest. i think he knew me from somewhere, but i don’t know.” was your response, signing and putting your head against the couch cushion.
“in any case, we must be careful. it's sukuna after all, we have to expect anything.” gojo responded, playing with his blindfold.
it was strange to see gojo wearing a blindfold reader than the glasses you were used to. the first time you saw him, you asked about it, his response making you feel bad for him.
at the same time, you could not resist asking him: “kinky much?”
“gojo is right. let’s be careful.” yoga spoke, and then continued. “now, what about yuji?”
“what about him? he would not be a part of the jujutsu high?” you found satoru asking, his now naked eye looking at yaga.
he looked so… intimidating without something covering his eyes.
“the elders want him killed.” the principal continued.
“no”
“what do you mean no?”
“i said no, kuna. meeting my parents would be a bad thing,” you said, looking at your pale hand. sukuna was playing with your fingers.
“but why?” he complained, looking like a kid who just got his candy stolen. “it could be a great opportunity to show them you are in good hands-”
“no, sukuna.” you interrupted him, taking a break from his attitude. “they would freak out and probably never allow me to meet you ever again.”
“i could kill them-” he started speaking, but you interrupted him harshly.
“absolutely not.”
“how are you feeling?”
“the same really. i mean it was pretty gross at the beginning but it went away.” yuji spoke happily, making his way to sit beside you on a bench.
the conversation you had a few minutes ago was still fresh, but you were glad that gojo was able to convince the higher-ups to not execute yuji.
“i’m glad you are okay, yuji. i heard you can control him too?”
“yes and no. i feel his presence in my mind, i can feel him too.”
“so you… you have any idea how he knows me?” you asked, a little bit of hope lingering in the air.
“not really. he always bothers me about you, but at the same time he doesn’t want to talk with you.”
“why you don’t wanna talk with me? kuna!”
you were met with silence. you could feel that he was annoyed, but somewhat you liked how he looked all… angry. he was sexy. the red eyes that stared at you a few minutes ago were now filled with jealousy, and the little crease on his forehead was just too cute to ignore.
“are you jealous?” you continued your question, tilting your head a little bit to the right to look at him better.
‘i would kill for this man’ you found yourself thinking, admiring his attractive features.
“no. i just don’t like the way he looks at you.” and then he continued, taking your head in his big hands, leaving a little kiss on the tip of the nose. “you are mine.”
“yours always.”
“he what?” you shouted, tightly clutching the phone to your ear as if it was ready to fly out of the blue.
“he ripped his heart out.” magumi answered again, then continued “you should come here, maybe say goodbye? i don’t really know.”
and so you did, and in a few minutes, you were at the jujutsu high, ready to see a poor boy who fell pray in the hands of a curse.
“you were with him?”
“yes.” the black-haired boy answered, immediately sighing. “i saw everything.”
“where was gojo?” you asked again, getting on your feet and ready to kick the white hair man’s ass.
“i don’t fucking know.”
seeing a dead person on the table was not something you were planning to see on your holiday in tokyo. yuji, now fully naked, was lying cold on the operating table. gojo just left the room to bring shoko to examine the boy, so you were all alone with a dead corpse and possibly a curse inside.
“sukuna…”
you were not sure what got into you, but somehow you found yourself talking with yuji and in the same time with sukuna.
“i know, you hate humans and shit. and i’m sorry i don’t remember you, or that i know you? i’m confused. i just… can i ask something?”
you sighed.
“can you bring yuji back? for me?”
a few minutes passed in silence. it was childish, really. thinking that ‘the king of curses’ would respond and listen to a human.
but it did. sukuna brought yuji back.
“happy birthday, princess.” started your lover, holding out a bouquet of wildflowers to you. it was not well done, some flowers were poorly placed and some even had some weeds next to them, but you appreciated the gesture.
“it’s so beautiful, kuna.” you responded, making your way to him for a kiss. “when did you have time to make thus?”
“i’ll always make time for you, you know that.” he responded, taking another sweet kiss from you. “nos, make a wish.”
“a wish?” you asked, “but didn't we need a cake for that? and candles?”
“just pretend, you know. we don’t have a cake right now, and it’s almost midnight. you show to make a wish.”
“okay, okay.” you laughed, taking the bouquet and hugging it.
‘i wish… to be with him forever’
“no! i can’t be with you. you are-”
“i’m what? last time we met, those weren’t your words, love.” the red-eyed man spoke, taking a few steps in your direction.
“it was all in the past. last time we met? that was a few weeks ago, sukuna. i don’t know you!” you shouted, keeping a fair share of distance. “i’m not your love anymore, so just give up, forget all about it.”
“i can’t do that. you know that, my love. i can’t”
“bring yuji back,” you commanded, looking at the man in front of you with despair.
he told you the truth. all your dreams and all your nightmares were just memories. memories from your past life, and so you lied to him that you didn’t remember anything, too afraid to tell the truth.
your life has just been turned upside down by a boy who ate your ex-boyfriend's finger. what a beautiful life you have, isn't it?
“kuna,” you asked, playing with your lover's hair.
“yes, princess?”
“i want you all to myself. i want to always be with you, together.”
“bring yuji back, you monster!”
“you are not a monster, kuna. you are a beautiful man, with a big heart. people just misunderstand you.”
“i hate you. i hate you, you broke me. because of you, i have insomnia, because of you i’m miserable. because of you, i used to think i’m crazy, you piece of shit”
“i love you. i will always love you. because of you, i smile more, because of you i feel alive again and because of you i will die at peace, knowing that you will be here when i wake up again, waiting for me.” you spoke gently, taking his rough hand in yours.
“promise me, kuna. promise me that you will find me in my next life, and we will be together again, even though i will not remember anything.”
“i’m not breaking my promise, princess.”
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the photos were taken from pinterest
tags: @wr4inn @cyzvx @sunnshinie @guinevere666 @periodbloodmanipulator @esauritamaviva @uhnanix @shadowstar123
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third-nature · 1 year
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Capitalism: putting the AAAAAAAA in Samsara
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mahoganyrust · 1 month
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Messy yet meaningful
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I got to thinking about mythology and folklore (to absolutely no one’s surprise) and my brain came back to Merlin (also entirely unsurprising)
Merlin would probably know the origins of a lot of myths, right? It’d probably make for some interesting conversations when Arthur gets back.
Arthur, reading about myths and legends: Hey why are unicorns said to be mythical?
Merlin: You shot one and Anhora nearly poisoned you to fix it. I wasn’t about to let it happen again.
Arthur: Did you know there’s a monster in Lock Ness?
Merlin: she is not a monster! Aithusa is a total sweetheart. It’s not her fault everyone got grumpy about the existence of dragons.
Arthur: Did you know about all the missing shipwrecks here?
Merlin: the first few stories were warnings. I can’t stop people wondering into gateways to other realms. It’s their own stupidity.
There’s definitely others but I need sleep.
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