#Séances and Magic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rizzlesregal13 · 4 months ago

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Whoa, Is Grandma A Ghost? Cool!

Agatha x Reader 💜 When your two kids have an impromptu séance, bringing forth Evanora’s spirit.

You know that saying, “If your kids go quiet, something’s up”? Well, with our two, it’s like that saying is written in stone!

I swear I gained an added sixth sense when Nicki was born. By the time Ella arrived, it had only sharpened. Some mothers get that instinctive feeling that tells them their kid is about to take a tumble off the sofa or cram something unholy up their nose. My version? It wakes me at 1 a.m. because my children are summoning the dead.

I had been happily wrapped around Agatha, snuggled in bed, my arm draped over her waist. She’ll never admit it, but she loves being the little spoon. She says it’s because I’m always warm and she’s naturally cold, but I know that’s just an excuse. I had no reason to wake up. There had been no sound, no thud, no suspicious giggles. And yet, something pulled me from sleep.

Something was off.

I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, my feet light on the wooden floors. I checked the kids’ rooms first, a habit that had become routine at this point. Nicki’s bed was empty. So was Ella’s.

My stomach tightened.

I didn’t panic… not yet. These were our children. I had found them in strange places before. That one time I caught Nicki trying to teach Ella to hold on to the electric garage door as he opened it? A highlight of my parenting career. But something about this was different. The air in the house felt… thicker.

I moved down the stairs, my fingers tingling with magic, just in case.

And there they were.

Cross-legged on the living room rug, a candle flickering between them, a—oh, for the love of magic itself—a Ouija board sat between them.

Ella, four years old and entirely too confident, had her fingers on the planchette, her lips pursed in concentration. Nicki, eight and always the ringleader, was watching intently.

“What,” I said, my voice calm in that deadly parent way, “are you two doing?”

Nicki startles, eyes wide, before his instincts kick in. He moves fast, too fast for an eight-year-old who’s definitely up to something—and tries to cover the Ouija board with his hands like that’ll somehow make it disappear.

Ella, ever the innocent one (relatively speaking), lets out a tiny squeak, fingers flying to her mouth as if she’s just now realizing they might be in trouble.

I narrow my eyes. “Where did you get that?”

Nicki shifts, glancing at his sister like they’ve rehearsed this.

“Uh… the attic.”

I blink. “The attic?”

I was pretty damn sure our attic wasn’t supposed to have haunted paraphernalia lying around for my children to find.

Nicki fidgets, looking at Ella. She looks back at him. They exchange a silent conversation, one of those wordless sibling agreements that I know means I’m about to hear an absolutely ridiculous excuse.

“It was her idea,” Nicki blurts, throwing his little sister directly under the bus. “She said we could contact a pirate and ask him where the buried treasure was!”

I should have expected that. She’s four, which means Ella's current life goal is to experience everything, even the things that should, logically, terrify her.

Ella gasps, scandalized. “Was not!”

Nicki points. “You lit the candle.”

Ella crosses her arms. “But you said we needed it for ‘atmosphere'.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Oh, fantastic. So we’re dabbling in theatrics now, too.”

I shift my gaze to the candle, still flickering innocently between them, and arch my eyebrow.

“Right.” I exhale slowly, because if I don’t, I might actually scream. “And the matches?”

Nicki hesitates. Ella does not.

“I found them in the kitchen drawer,” she announces proudly. “Right next to the spoons.”

Next to the spoons.

I feel my soul leave my body.

Nicki, sensing my reaction, jumps in quickly. “But she was very careful.”

Ella nods enthusiastically. “Very, very careful.”

I stare at them.

They stare back.

I take a long, slow breath. “You both know you’re not supposed to play with matches.”

Nicki folds his arms, trying to look self-important. “Technically, she played with them.”

I point at him. “You don’t get to ‘technically’ your way out of this, Nicholas.”

I hear footsteps come down the stairs and turn just as Agatha materialises in the doorway, wearing my robe, because of course she is. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking far too entertained by the antics of our mischievous children.

“What’s all the noise? You could wake the dead…”

I glare at her. “Funny you should say that.”

She quirks an eyebrow. I gesture at our children.

“Your children—”

“Our children,” she corrects smoothly, smirk firmly in place.

I take a deep, steadying breath and keep my glare level.

“Our children,” I amend begrudgingly, “have decided to do just that and have a séance.”

Agatha tilts her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“Oh? Any luck?”

“Agatha!”

“What?” She shrugs. “You have to admit, if they managed to actually wake something, that’s pretty impressive.”

I groan, rubbing a hand down my face.

“Do not encourage them.”

Nicki takes this as his moment to jump in.

“We followed the instructions!”

I freeze, my brain short-circuiting for a second.

“…Instructions?”

Nicki nods, completely serious. “Yeah. In the box.”

I blink. “The box - has instructions?”

He nods again.

I turn to Agatha, who is now walking over to a discarded box behind the kids. She picks it up, eyes scanning the front. Then, with an amused snort, she flips it around and holds it up for me to see.

For ages 3+.

I stare at her. She smirks, then turns the box toward the kids.

“Well, that explains it. Clearly, it’s child-friendly necromancy.”

Ella, sitting proudly on her knees, beams up at me.

“See, Mama? I’m old enough to play!”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. “Maiden, Mother, Crone, give me strength.”

And that’s when the planchette moves.

A slow, deliberate slide across the board.

None of them are touching it.

The room goes still. The candle flickers, the air shifts, and I feel that deep, undeniable sensation of something unseen but very much present.

Nicki and Ella stare, eyes wide with pure wonder, not fear. Because of course they aren’t scared. Most kids would be, but not ours.

Agatha watches with a raised brow, then side-eyes me.

“Okay. That’s interesting.”

I exhale through my nose. “I told you.”

Nicki whispers, eyes fixed on the board, “Did you see that?”

Agatha crouches down behind the kids, watching intently as the planchette moves again, slow and deliberate, like it’s savoring every letter.

I exhale sharply, my stomach twisting. “Well, looks like someone wants to talk to you,” I say, my voice steady, but there’s a weight settling in my chest. Apprehension creeps up my spine.

Agatha, ever unfazed, tilts her head, watching the board with an almost lazy curiosity. Then.. because she’s Agatha and handles the paranormal like a Tuesday morning inconvenience… she deadpans, “Well, that’s never a good sign.”

And then, a voice.

A low, whispered voice.

“Agatha.”

The kids freeze. My breath catches.

And Agatha? She goes completely still.

For the first time in a long time, I see something flicker in her expression… something unreadable, something unnerved. The candle flickers violently, a gust of cold air sweeping through the room. Ella grabs my hand, pressing close, and instinct takes over as I move forward, protective mom mode in full force.

“What did you actually say when you started the séance?” I demand, my voice firmer now.

Nicki swallows, looking guilty for the first time.

“Uh… we just followed the instructions. It said to say, ‘We invite you to speak with us'.’”

My stomach drops. Oh, great. An open invitation. Just wonderful.

Agatha doesn’t react to them. Her blue eyes are still locked on the board, something dark swirling in their depths.

“Agatha,” the voice calls again.

And this time, she recognizes it.

I see the exact moment she realizes who it is. She exhales, slow and measured.

“Mom?”

I stiffen. Nicki’s eyes widen. Ella clutches my arm.

Evanora.

The woman Agatha never speaks of. The woman who made Agatha who she is... sharp, untouchable, dangerous when she needs to be. And now, she’s here.

Agatha tilts her head. Her voice, when she finally speaks, is perfectly neutral.

“Well. That’s unexpected.”

I stare at her, incredulous. “Unexpected?”

She flashes me a dry smile. “What? It’s not every day your long-dead mother crashes a family séance.”

The candle flickers again, the flame stretching unnaturally tall before snapping back down.

Ella tugs on my sleeve. “Is Grandma a ghost?”

I tighten my grip on her. “Sweetheart, she’s not the bedtime story kind of grandma.”

Agatha smirks, but it’s thin, distracted. She turns back to the board. “Alright, Mom. You went through all this trouble—what do you want?”

Evanora materializes in front of us, her form shimmering at the edges, the air is thick with the weight of her presence. The candlelight flickers wildly, casting long, jagged shadows on the walls. A cold prickle runs down my spine, and without thinking, I pull Nicki and Ella in close, wrapping my arms around them.

Agatha stands perfectly still. Not in shock, not in fear, just... watching. Her face is carefully blank, but I know her well enough to see the tightness in her jaw, the sharpness in her blue eyes. This isn’t surprise. This is calculation, and she’s trying to be three steps ahead.

It’s Nicki who speaks first. “Whoa, Is Grandma a ghost? Cool!”

Ella peeks out from behind my arm, eyes wide but more curious than scared. “You look like the princess from the bedtime story mommy told us. The scary princess.”

Evanora shifts her gaze toward them, the smallest hint of amusement flickering in her eerie, pale eyes.

“Ah. My grandchildren.”

Nicki beams. “That’s us!”

I tighten my grip on them.

“Okay, time out,” I say, shooting Agatha a sharp look. “Are we just accepting this? Your mother is dead—she should not be able to stand in our living room like she’s just popped around for a cup of tea.”

Agatha exhales through her nose, rubbing her temple.

“Yeah. I gathered that.”

Evanora turns her attention back to Agatha, her voice cool, smooth.

“It’s been a long time, daughter.”

Agatha crosses her arms. “Not long enough, apparently.”

Evanora hums, tilting her head slightly, like she��s inspecting her.

“You’re just as sharp as ever. And yet… softer.”

Agatha bristles, but her smirk remains in place.

“I hate when people call me that.”

Evanora’s eyes flick to me, then to the children, and something shifts in her expression.

“You have… a family.”

Something dark flashes across Agatha’s face.

“Perceptive as always, Mother.”

I don’t like the way Evanora is looking at us…assessing, measuring. Judging.

I step forward slightly, keeping my hold on the kids.

“Why are you here?”

Evanora’s eyes settle on me, and I swear I feel the weight of her gaze pressing into my skin.

“You should ask them that,” she says smoothly, nodding toward the children. “They were the ones who called me.”

Nicki gasps excitedly. “So the séance did work!”

Agatha groans, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“Of course it worked. Only the two of you could have enough sheer stubbornness to break through the damn veil.”

Nicki beams with pride.

Ella tilts her head. “Did we break it?”

Evanora smirks slightly. “No, little one. But you did… open something.”

I don’t like the sound of that. Not one bit.

I glance at Agatha. “Tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”

Agatha exhales slowly, then looks at Evanora, her smirk fading.

“Alright. Enough with the cryptic bullshit. What did they open?”

Evanora’s expression turns serious.

“A door,” she says simply. “A door that was meant to stay closed.”

Ella gasps dramatically. “Like in The Little Mermaid when she opened the treasure chest and...”

Agatha holds up a finger. “Not helpful, honeybee”

Nicki frowns. “So… can we just close it?”

Evanora’s gaze flickers with something unreadable.

“It’s not that simple.”

Of course it’s not… It never is. I let out a slow breath.

“Okay. Well, let’s make it simple. How do we close it?”

Evanora’s pale eyes settle on Agatha again, almost like she’s waiting for something.

Then, she finally says, “You need me.”

Agatha goes completely still.

I swear, the temperature in the room drops several degrees. Agatha’s voice, when she finally speaks, is carefully measured, edged with something dangerous.

“You expect me to believe that? That we suddenly need you?”

Evanora lifts a brow. “You may not believe it, but it’s true. There are things beyond even your comprehension, Agatha. You were reckless once... your children have inherited that.”

Nicki beams again, completely missing the insult.

Agatha scoffs. “Oh, please. Don’t pretend to care about my parenting skills.”

Evanora sighs, tilting her head again, her gaze flicking briefly to the kids.

“I don’t care about parenting.” She looks back at Agatha, eyes dark. “I care about survival.”

Agatha clenches her jaw. I can see the war in her... every sharp, bitter piece of her past colliding with the present.

I reach for her and squeeze her arm gently.

“Agatha.”

She exhales, then looks at her mother.

“What’s the catch?”

Evanora smirks. “Oh, there’s always a catch, dear.”

I feel Nicki and Ella press closer to me.

Agatha’s smirk is sharp, but there’s something cold behind it. “Of course there is.”

Evanora’s voice drops to something almost fond.

“You always were the smartest.”

And that is when the candle blows out.

The air shifts, heavy and electric, and I swear I feel something just beyond the veil, waiting.

Watching.

Agatha flicks her wrist, re-lighting the candle. Ella tugs on my sleeve.

“I really, really don’t like this game anymore.”

Nicki, for once, doesn’t argue.

Agatha straightens, rolling her shoulders, and when she speaks again, it’s in that low, dangerous tone she only uses when she realises we are about to go down shitts creek in a canoe… without a paddle.

“Alright, then.” She steps forward, eyes locked on her mother. “Let’s make a deal.”

Evanora watches her, sharp and poised, like a predator sizing up its prey. “Clever girl,” she murmurs. “You always knew there’d be a price.”

I really don’t like where this is going.

I shift slightly, keeping Nicki and Ella tucked close, my body instinctively forming a barrier between them and whatever the hell is unfolding in front of us.

Agatha tilts her head, her smirk thin. “Of course. You don’t do anything for free.”

Evanora smiles, slow and eerie. “You wound me.”

Agatha’s expression doesn’t so much as flicker.

“Doubt it. Now, tell me what we have to do to close this damn door.”

Evanora lifts a hand, lazily gesturing to the air around us.

“It’s already begun,” she says, voice almost amused. “The energy you let in—this house is no longer… safe.”

Nicki perks up. “Wait, like haunted haunted?”

I squeeze his shoulder. “Not the time, bud.”

Evanora continues like she wasn’t interrupted. “The door exists because of them.” Her gaze flicks briefly to the kids. “Because they called it open.”

A sick feeling churns in my stomach. I glance at Agatha. She’s tense, and that does nothing to help the unease causing through me.

“So we close it,” I say, voice firm. “Tell us how.”

Evanora gives me a slow, knowing smile. “It’s not so simple, my dear.”

Of course it’s not.

“The door is tied to their magic,” she explains, gesturing to Nicki and Ella. “Or rather, their potential for magic. It was an invitation, a ripple in the balance. If you want to shut it, you have to do it properly.”

Agatha’s blue eyes darken. “And the price?”

Evanora’s smirk grows. “Ah. There’s the real question.”

I exhale sharply. “Just say it.”

Evanora steps closer, and I instinctively push the kids back a step. She eyes Agatha carefully, then speaks in that smooth, dangerous voice.

“One of them must be bound.”

The room drops into silence.

The candle flickers.

Agatha’s expression doesn’t change, but I feel the way her magic coils around her like a snake ready to strike.

I blink. “I’m sorry. What?”

Evanora tilts her head. “One child must be bound. Their magic—what little of it exists now—must be sealed away. Permanently.”

Nicki stiffens. “Wait, what? Why?”

Agatha’s voice is deadly quiet. “Because she wants to make sure they never become a threat… to her”.

Evanora meets her gaze, unreadable. “Because the balance must be restored.”

Ella clutches my arm, her small voice trembling. “But… but I don’t wanna be bound.”

Fury flares in my chest. “That’s not an option.” I take a step forward, my body taut with pure, protective rage. “You’re seriously standing here, telling us we have to strip our own child of their magic...”

Evanora lifts a hand. “Potential magic. They’re too young for it to manifest fully. If it’s done now, they won’t even know what they’ve lost.”

“That makes it worse,” I snap.

Nicki looks between us, suddenly understanding the weight of it.

“Wait, so… one of us would never have magic?”

Agatha exhales through her nose, slow and dangerous.

“She wants to clip your wings before you even have the chance to fly.”

Evanora sighs, almost bored. “You make it sound so cruel.”

“It is cruel,” I snap. “And it’s not happening.”

Evanora shrugs. “Then the door stays open.”

The candle flickers violently, a gust of wind sweeping through the room. Shadows stretch unnaturally along the walls, and the house groans, like something deep within it is waking up.

Nicki looks at Agatha, eyes wide. “But if we leave it open—”

“Something else will come through,” Agatha mutters.

A chill runs through me.

Evanora smiles. “You see the dilemma.”

Agatha’s jaw clenches. Her whole body is taut, coiled, a blade on the verge of striking.

I know her. I know how she works. She’s running through every possible scenario, every loophole, every way out of this.

I step closer to her. “There has to be another way.”

Evanora tilts her head. “There is another way.”

Agatha’s eyes narrow. “Spit it out.”

Evanora’s smirk is slow and knowing. “You take the binding.”

I freeze.

Nicki inhales sharply. Ella’s grip on me tightens.

Agatha just watches her mother, unmoving.

“You want me to strip my own power?”

Evanora lifts a brow. “Yes, your power is already controlled, is it not? You barely use it to its full potential anymore. What difference would it make?”

Agatha doesn’t move.

I do.

“Absolutely not.” I step in front of her, my voice sharp as a knife. “She’s not doing that.”

Evanora exhales, almost exasperated. “Such dramatics.”

“Go to hell.”

She smiles. “Already there, my girl .”

Agatha places a gentle hand on my back. When she speaks, her voice is steady, but low.

“No.”

Evanora blinks. “No?”

Agatha tilts her head, her smirk dangerous. “You heard me.”

Evanora watches her for a long moment. Then she laughs, shaking her head.“Oh, Agatha.” She sighs, almost fondly. “You always did have a problem with authority.”

Agatha’s smirk doesn’t waver. “Guess I got that from you.”

Evanora hums. “Very well. If you refuse to bind the children, and you refuse to bind yourself… then the only other option is to force the door closed.”

I hesitate. “What does that mean?”

Evanora’s expression turns serious. “It means power. More than either of you may be able to handle.”

I glance at Agatha. She meets my gaze, and I see it—the fire, the certainty.

I exhale. “What do we have to do?”

Evanora smiles, slow and knowing, like she’s enjoying the fact that we’re backed into a corner. Of course she is.

“You must sever the connection,” she says smoothly, as if this is just a casual conversation and not a crisis. “You and Agatha must direct your magic to force the door closed. But—” she tilts her head, her gaze piercing, manipulative, “—you will have to balance each other. Too much force, and you may tear something worse open.”

My stomach twists. “And if we don’t use enough force?”

Evanora smirks. “Then it stays open. And they will come through.”

Nicki swallows hard. “Who’s they?”

Evanora simply smiles.

Yeah. Not ominous at all.

I turn to the kids, my voice firm. “Okay. Nicki, Ella—go stand in the far corner. Stay together. No moving until I say.”

Nicki frowns, looking like he wants to argue, but one look at my face and he thinks better of it.

Ella, ever the curious one, tilts her head. “But I wanna watch—"

“Corner. Now.” Agatha says backing me up.

Nicki grabs Ella’s hand and drags her back.

I take a breath and rub my temple.

“Why… why couldn’t we just have one normal, quiet night at home?”

Agatha snorts. “You married me. That ship sailed long ago.”

I shoot her a look, but she just grins. Then, without even trying, she conjures a swirling ball of purple energy in her palm, the familiar electric crackle of her magic filling the air.

Show-off.

My own fingers tingle with power, and I feel the magic pulse at my fingertips, building. It’s been a while since I’ve used it for anything remotely interesting. The occasional floating object? Sure. The rare accidental spell when one of the kids has pushed me to my limit? Absolutely. But this…this is powerful. This is something I haven’t done in years.

Agatha glances at me, smirking. “Need a minute, hon?”

I huff. “Oh, please.”

I flex my hands, and with a deep inhale, I let the magic flow... gold and deep, curling from my fingertips, lighting up the space between us. The house hums in response, the weight of power filling the air.

Across the room, I catch Ella’s face—her wide, amazed eyes locked on Agatha’s magic, on mine, absolute awe written across her tiny features.

Oh, great. She’s already a mini Agatha, and now I can see her tiny brain whirring, probably dreaming up all the chaos she’ll cause when she’s older. I dread to think what her magic will be like when it finally manifests. She’s enough of a challenge at this age without it.

Nicki watches too, but he looks more cautious, like he’s analyzing how it works. Typical. He’s always been the thinker.

Agatha glances at them, then back at me. “You ready, Y/N?”

I take another breath, steadying myself. “As I’ll ever be.”

Evanora watches, her expression unreadable.

“Then begin.”

Agatha doesn’t hesitate. She raises her hands, magic crackling like wildfire, her signature purple energy sparking in the air.

I follow suit, my own magic flaring gold, the two forces surging toward the damn Ouija board sitting smugly in the center of our living room rug.

The moment the magic collides, the board erupts in flames, burning unnaturally hot, the fire licking up the edges in deep, curling tendrils. The room hums, the air vibrating as the energy from the séance is ripped apart.

For a second, I think it worked.

Then I hear the unmistakable sizzle of fabric, followed by the distinct, horrifying pop of something catching.

The flames die as fast as they came, leaving behind nothing but a gaping, charred hole right through the damn rug.

I stare.

Agatha tilts her head, assessing the damage. Then, with all the grace and calm in the world, she hums.

“Well...That could’ve gone worse.”

I whip my head toward her.

“Agatha.”

She shrugs. “I mean, the house is still standing, so I’d call that a win.”

I rub my temple, breathing through my nose.

“That rug cost a fortune.”

She smirks. “I told you not to buy something so expensive when you live in a house full of chaos gremlins.”

Ella peeks out from behind me. “We are gremlins.”

Nicki nods solemnly. “We really are.”

I sigh, but before I can respond, I realize something... Evanora is still here.

She hasn’t vanished, hasn’t flickered away with the last remnants of the séance. She stands, watching the charred remains of the board, her face unreadable.

Then, to my absolute shock, she looks back at Agatha… and she almost—almost—looks proud.

“It’s done,” she says simply.

Agatha crosses her arms, unimpressed.

“Yet you’re still here.”

Evanora tilts her head, her eerie smirk returning.

“Disappointed?”

I fold my arms. “Are you going, or have you decided to haunt us?”

Evanora’s smirk widens, like she enjoys the idea far too much. But then she exhales, casting one last glance at Agatha, something strange in her gaze... something that looks almost… soft.

She steps back, and her form begins to fade, the edges of her body dissolving like mist.

Ella grabs my hand. “Bye, Grandma.”

Nicki lifts a hand in a little wave. “Uh… yeah. Bye, Grandma.”

Evanora’s eyes flick to them, and...for the briefest moment... her smirk turns into something almost resembling a real smile.

Then, with a final look at Agatha, she vanishes completely.

The air settles. The room feels lighter.

The séance is over.

For a moment, none of us move.

Then, Agatha lets out a sharp breath, turning to me with a grin. “So, hon… shall we make this a new family tradition?”

I stare at her.

I grab the nearest throw pillow and chuck it at her head.

She barely flinches, catching it midair with that damn smirk that makes me hot under the collar, still plastered across her face.

“Not even funny!” I snap, though the way she’s looking at me—like she’s thoroughly entertained by my frustration—makes it very clear she thinks it is.

She tosses the pillow onto the couch, utterly unbothered.

“Oh, I disagree.”

I exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Right. You two...” I turn to our tiny chaos-makers, who are still standing between us, “... get up those stairs. Now.”

Nicki hesitates. “Are we in trouble?”

Agatha snorts. “So much trouble.”

I cross my arms. “You’re lucky you’re not being grounded until your 18th birthday’s.”

Ella gasps dramatically. “That’s so long!”

Nicki, ever the negotiator, tilts his head. “Can we at least still have pancakes in the morning?”

I level them with a look. “Move.”

Ella lets out a little whimper but scurries toward the stairs. Nicki follows, pausing only to cast one last, longing glance at the burnt patch on the rug.

“Man… I really wanted to know if the pirate had treasure.”

Agatha chuckles under her breath.

I glare at her. “Do not laugh at this.”

She holds up her hands in mock surrender, but her smirk is still there, full of mischief.

We get the kids upstairs, the tension from earlier slowly easing, but the exhaustion settling in like a weight.

Nicki trudges ahead, Ella clinging to my hand, her little legs working twice as hard to keep up. Agatha, ever the troublemaker, trails behind, her amusement barely masked beneath the surface.

By the time we get Ella into bed, she’s already yawning, but her mind is still buzzing with questions. She clutches her stuffed rabbit tightly, looking up at me with wide, curious eyes as I tuck the duvet around her.

“Do you think we’ll see Grandma again?” she asks, her voice small, unsure.

At the doorway, Nicki lingers, his hands gripping the frame like he’s not sure if he wants to step in or stay safely outside. His face is unreadable—thoughtful, maybe even a little wary.

I exchange a glance with Agatha, who sits on the edge of Ella’s bed, smoothing her daughter’s hair back with gentle fingers.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Agatha murmurs, and for once, her voice is free of sarcasm, of teasing. It’s just honest.

Ella frowns, chewing on the edge of her bunny’s ear.

“She wasn’t scary.”

Nicki scoffs from the doorway. “She kinda was.”

Ella shakes her head stubbornly. “Not like a bad scary. Like… like a big storm. You don’t know if it’s gonna be fun to watch or if it’s gonna break stuff.”

Agatha raises a brow, impressed. “Well, aren’t you poetic.”

Ella beams sleepily. “I’m very smart.”

I press a kiss to her forehead. “That, you are.”

Nicki still hasn’t moved from the doorway. His brows are furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He’s thinking. Hard.

I straighten, tilting my head. “What is it, bud?”

He hesitates, then asks, “Did she open the door… or did we?”

Agatha’s expression doesn’t change, but I feel the way she stiffens slightly beside me.

Ella, unfazed, snuggles deeper under the duvet. “We did. But she didn’t try to hurt us.”

Nicki bites his lip, clearly unsure about that answer.

I sigh, gesturing for him to come close, so I can reach over to ruffle his hair. “It’s over now. And that means bed.”

He frowns but doesn’t argue, stepping back toward his own room.

Agatha leans over, whispering conspiratorially to Ella, “I’m still voting for a pirate next time.”

I give her a sharp look, and she grins, slipping off the bed.

Ella giggles. “Me too.”

“No one is summoning anything,” I warn. “Now sleep.”

Ella hums, already drifting off, her tiny fingers curled around her stuffed bunny.

Nicki lingers for one more second. “Do you promise it’s over?”

I meet his gaze, then glance at Agatha.

She doesn’t lie to him. She just walks over, and pulls him into her side, and says, “It’s over for tonight.”

Nicki doesn’t look thrilled with that answer, but he nods anyway and disappears into his room.

Once the kids had finally fallen alseep, we headed back downstairs and I turn to Agatha arms crossed.

“Well? Are you going to help me figure out what to do about this?” I gesture at the scorched rug.

Agatha hums, stepping closer, eyeing the damage with a critical expression. Then, ever so casually, she flicks her wrist.

A small surge of magic pulses through the air, and the rug, still visibly burned but now sporting more of a stylised distressed look rather than a gaping hole...smooths out slightly.

She grins. “There. Rustic charm.”

I stare at her. “I hate you.”

She slides her arms around my waist, pulling me close.

“No, you don’t.”

I sigh, letting my forehead drop against her shoulder.

“Our kids just summoned your dead mother, nearly ripped a hole in reality, and I now have one less expensive rug than I started the evening with.”

She hums, pressing a kiss against my temple.

“All true.”

I lift my head to glare at her. “And you think this is funny.”

Her smirk widens. “I think this is our life.”

I groan, but even as I do, I let her pull me in. Because, honestly? She’s right.

And knowing our children, this won’t even be the tip of the iceberg of what havoc they’re going to cause us.

Also on AO3 - Writtenwhiledreaming 💜 (Second chapter of No! You Can’t Hex A Four-Year-Old).

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #nicholas scratch #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x you #agatha x reader #family fluff #family chaos #family #evanora harkness #ouija #ouija board #seance #comfort #Mom Agatha #fem!reader

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 3 months ago

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sky high!au | m.g. x gn!reader

it’s weird going to a high school specifically meant for kids with superpowers, big or small, it makes the four years a little worse for tormenting. some kid got pants by a speedster, and when he tried to run his laces were tied together causing him to trip on the linoleum floor.

high school was hell.

you don’t even know why you go to the school, the ability to rearrange molecules causing them to phase shift wasn’t really great when you can only do small things. pretty sure there’s a rotting apple hiding in the science rooms walls.

at least you had close friends at the school. samantha wilkins, but she prefers her middle name eve more from peers. now that girl is a superhero, with the ability to see atoms and create limitless possibilities-such a badass. rex sloan was another…acquaintance if you could call him that. he causes explosions, big or small just by the touch of his fingers, number one trouble maker (he’s got his own seat in detention).

and then there’s mark grayson, son of omni-man. and he’s gifted with the ability to-to- no one is sure of that yet. for now he’s the only ‘normal’ kid attending the school due to his family status. and he happens to be your childhood best friend along with being neighbors, from séance dog role playing in his backyard to having him help you practice your powers at the age of seven. he was your biggest supporter.

“i feel this would make a killer magic act. maybe we could get into competitions!” mark bounced on his bed from excitement and you just smiled shyly, keeping your knees tucked close to your chest.

“i don’t know…it’s not really good if i can only do a paper clip. kinda lame power i have.” grumbling to yourself. your parents were veteran heros, always saving the world and stopping interglacial wars. you’d never raise to their level.

“hey,” mark poked a finger into your chubby cheek. you sided eyed him gently, no annoyance in your gaze just peering at him. “i think you’re cool.” you scuffed, “you’re just saying that cause your my friend. you’d understand if you had my powers compared to my parents.”

“you’re right, i’m saying that cause i’m your friend. but also i know what it’s like, comparing yourself to others. heck my dad is freaking omni-man! that’s the biggest comparison to date, but i don’t let it stop me. we’re still young, by high school things will be better.”

“hey killer.” blinking your eyes rapidly from a sudden memory, mark was walking into your space. the yellow collar of his shirt popping out to sit at the top of his dark blue striped sweater, one hand tucked into the pocket of his khaki pants. his hair was neatly combed with a bit of gel keeping it in place except for one stray hair that swayed in the wind, it made him look romantic.

“hi marky, ready for today?” talking in the courtyard as you waited for the bell to ring. today was a monthly powers assessment, there were two categories. hero and sidekick. eve and rex have been placed in hero specific classes while you and mark are sidekicks.

a crooked smile brightened mark’s pretty features, “i am actually. got a big surprise for everyone.” jumping his brows conspicuously. you didn’t have time to ask since the bell took its cue signaling the next period. you sighed, “let’s get this over with.”

“alright twerps! you know the drill by now. i’m gonna terrorize you and you best keep yourself intact cause i’m not calling the janitor for clean up duty. now first up…amanda johnson.”

everyone was silent, waiting to see the new meat. a young girl stepped through and onto the platform, she couldn’t be more than thirteen at least. coach just stared her down for a moment, “uh…how old are you?”

“seventeen but my powers cause my aging to turn backwards. now are we gonna do this or what?” you liked her. coach stedman just shrugged then blew his whistle loud, it was worse than a screaming cat.

a giant bus suddenly dropped from the ceiling and everyone gasped but then a cloud of smoke appeared and in amanda’s place was a giant green monster around eight feet maybe. murmurs went through the crowd at the mysterious creature, who set the dinged up vehicle to the side and turned back into the junior. she wiped her hands together, “anything else?”

coach stared wide-eyed, speechless for a moment before clearing his throat. “uh hero, but only do that when necessary. and instructed by your teachers.” and he waved her off calling up another girl.

she had short black hair and was wearing a tight purple top with a mini skirt. “katherine cha, how will you amaze us today?”

“actually i prefer kate and i duplicate.” her rhyme followed with a demonstration of five more exact replicas standing behind her, each one doing a different pose. “hero. now mark grayson, get your butt up here.”

you patted his shoulders, “be careful.” he just threw a smile over his shoulder as he walked onto the platform. coach crossed his arms followed with a deep sigh, “any new developments grayson, or are you still weaker than my eighty year old mother? at least she can lift ten pounds.” a small murmur and giggle spread through the crowd of on lookers while you just rolled your eyes at the comments.

all mark said was, “can she do this?” and started to hover off the ground then floated to the top of the gym ceiling before descending down. your jaw dropped, he got his powers, and didn’t tell you. coach stedman clapped slowly, “well well, nice show. anything else? super strength?” a mechanical dummy shot up and without a thought mark swung a fist causing the head to pop off and roll to the other side of the room.

it was silent then, “ladies and gentlemen, mark grayson, your new hero!”

“try grabbing a book through your locker. it’s not too thick a metal with a light object, just pretend it’s already open and there’s nothing in your way.” eve suggests while helping you practice your powers.

a deep exhale through your nose as you let the tips of your fingers rest against the cool light blue metal. you tried to make yourself feel weightless, just a simple breeze passing through the trees. you felt the spine of your book in your grasp, then quickly retracted your arm back to your side. a small paper back was your trophy.

“i-i did it. i did it!” thrilled at this achievement, small one, but one none the less for yourself. eve clapped beside you, “see just a little concentration goes a long way, in no time you’ll be joining me in hero classes.”

that got you to quiet down a bit, “apparently mark is getting that first.” a gasped followed, “no way! he finally got his powers?”

a nod, “yep. flying and strength, your typical hero package.” letting your fingers run against the aging paper, a baby frown staining your face.

eve hummed, “he didn’t tell you first did he? just gave everyone a big surprise.” understanding your sour mood.

“it’s not like he has to, but it would’ve been nice. i mean he was there when i accidentally fell through my bedroom floor thus causing me to sprain my ankle. why couldn’t he just hover outside my window?” pouting like a baby.

“why the hell did i just see grayson in my civilian protection class?” rex slides up beside you, casually throwing an arm over your shoulders. “did he finally hit powers puberty?”

eve rolled her eyes, “technically him and y/n are both biologically born with powers, while you and i have a bit of altered dna. it’s like growing plants, takes time and patience.”

“blah blah blah,” rex acting like his usual immature self.

…

a/n: just something i thought of. let me know if this is something yall would be interested in, just a more pg version of their world so more fluff less angst.

#invincible #invincible x fem!reader #invincible angst #invincible x you #invincible x reader #invincible imagine #invincible fluff #invincible fic #invincible x gn!reader #mark grayson x gn!reader #mark grayson fic #mark grayson fluff #mark grayson imagine #mark grayson angst #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson

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slasherparty · 8 months ago

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Jennifer Check headcanons for being best friends with her please?

this is so wholesome anon :’) 💌 here you go!

being best friends with jennifer 💭

she calls you at midnight, every midnight, without fail. not because she has anything in particular to say, but because the night is vast and full of things that whisper, and your voice is the only thing she trusts not to lie to her.

she steals little things from you — your favorite lip balm, a paperback novel you’ve read a hundred times, a threadbare hoodie. she never admits it, but they show up in her room, carelessly tossed onto her bed, like trophies of the fact that she knows you better than anyone else.

she drags you to strange places at strange hours. an abandoned playground at dawn. a forgotten diner on the edge of town where the neon sign flickers like morse code. a clearing in the woods where the air feels heavier, older, as if it remembers something it shouldn’t. she always says it’s “for the aesthetic,” but you think she’s looking for something, or someone.

she knows all your secrets without you having to tell her. she never uses them against you — at least not seriously — but she’ll tease you mercilessly about that crush you swore you got over two years ago or the way you hum when you’re nervous.

when you’re upset, she doesn’t try to fix it. she just sits with you, offering you the kind of quiet solidarity that feels like wrapping yourself in a blanket made of sunlight. sometimes she’ll braid your hair, her hands soft and steady, and you’ll think for a moment that everything might be okay.

she’s fiercely protective of you, even though she pretends not to care. if someone so much as looks at you wrong, her eyes narrow, and her smile sharpens into something wolfish. you’ve learned to let her handle it because she will handle it.

she has a way of making the mundane magical. a trip to the mall becomes an adventure to the “world’s least enchanted castle.” a study session turns into a séance, complete with candlelight and whispered incantations.

she’s always late, but she always shows up. even if it’s two hours past when she said she’d meet you, she arrives in a whirlwind of excuses, charm, and a fun drink she bought to make it up to you.

she teases you constantly but won’t let anyone else do the same. if someone tries, she shuts them down with a single glance, her tone dripping with venom. “Only I get to bully them,” she’ll say, flashing you a grin that’s equal parts affection and possession.

she touches you more than she touches anyone else. a hand on your shoulder, a finger trailing down your arm, a nudge of her knee against yours. it’s casual, easy, but it feels like a spell — a tether tying you to her.

she gives you nicknames no one else is allowed to use. they’re always slightly mocking but weirdly endearing, like “Nerdling” or “My Little Disaster.”

when she smiles at you, it feels like being let in on a secret. the kind of secret that makes the world a little brighter, a little stranger, a little more worth being in.

she always knows what you need, even before you do. a cup of hot chocolate on a bad day. a playlist of songs she swears remind her of you. a sudden, unexpected “You’re not as annoying as everyone else, you know,” muttered into the quiet like a benediction.

she makes you feel like you’re the main character in a story she’s telling. and maybe you are, or maybe she just knows how to make the world feel like a stage. either way, you don’t mind.

thanks for reading!! 💌

you can find more of my writing here on ao3!

#jennifer check #jennifer check headcanons #jennifer check x reader #but platonic…#jennifer's body #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #horror imagines #slasher writer #horror writer

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hollywoodgothique · 10 months ago

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Haunted Magic Mystery Show comes to Beetle House LA

Michael Campion’s Haunted Mystery Show of Magic arrives at Beetle House for an extended stay beginning later this month. Campion (a regular at the Magic Castle) is pitching his performance to horror fans as a “dark, immersive magic show that…will scare the audience while confusing the senses about what is and isn’t real with the help of a deceased spirit.” Expect closeup magic and audience…

#Séances and Magic

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astra-ravana · 5 months ago

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Let's Channel Spirits!

Spirit channeling is the practice of communicating with non-physical entities, such as ancestors, deities, guides, or spirits of the dead. It has existed across cultures and traditions for thousands of years, with shamans, oracles, and mystics acting as intermediaries between the human and spirit realms. In ancient Greece, the Oracle of Delphi channeled messages from Apollo, while in indigenous traditions, shamans entered trance states to receive guidance from spirits. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, spiritualism popularized spirit communication through séances and automatic writing, a practice that continues today in various forms of witchcraft, mediumship, and divination.

The rewards of spirit channeling can be profound. Many practitioners use it to receive wisdom, gain insight into personal or collective issues, and deepen their spiritual path. Ancestor work, for example, allows witches to access generational knowledge and healing, while channeling deities or spirit guides can offer profound revelations. It is also a tool for magical work, as spirits can aid in spellcasting, protection, or uncovering hidden truths. For those seeking closure, channeling deceased loved ones can bring comfort and resolution.

However, there are risks involved. Not all spirits are benevolent, and some may deceive, manipulate, or drain a channeler’s energy. Without proper protections, practitioners may attract unwanted entities or even experience psychic burnout. Psychological risks also exist, as differentiating between genuine messages and personal imagination can be challenging. Ethical concerns arise when people rely too heavily on spirit communication for decision-making, neglecting their own intuition and logic. This is why grounding, shielding, and discernment are essential.

In modern practice, spirit channeling takes many forms, from traditional trance mediumship to intuitive divination using tarot, pendulums, or scrying. Some witches use meditation and altered states of consciousness to connect with spirits, while others engage in automatic writing or guided visualization. With the rise of technology, spirit communication has even extended to digital methods, such as EVP (electronic voice phenomena), ghost communication devices and apps, and AI-assisted divination. Despite skepticism, the practice remains a vital part of many spiritual traditions, evolving alongside new understandings of consciousness and the unseen world. Whether approached with reverence or caution, spirit channeling continues to offer a bridge between realms, guiding those who seek its wisdom.

Forms of Spirit Channeling

Spirit channeling can take many forms, depending on the tradition, method, and depth of connection. Below is a list of different types of spirit channeling, ranging from light communication to deep trance states.

Mental Channeling:

• The spirit communicates through thoughts, impressions, or intuitive messages.

• The channeler remains fully conscious and translates the information received.

• Often used in mediumship, divination, and psychic readings.

Trance Channeling:

• The channeler enters an altered state where the spirit speaks or acts through them.

• Can be light (partial awareness) or deep (full surrender of control).

• Used by shamans, spiritualist mediums, and oracles.

Automatic Writing (Psychography):

• The spirit guides the channeler’s hand to write messages.

• The channeler may or may not be conscious of what is being written.

• Used for receiving detailed messages or insights from spirits.

Séances & Spirit Board Communication:

• Group or solo practice involving talking boards (Ouija), pendulums, or other tools.

• Spirits respond through movement, knocking, or written messages.

• Requires strong protection, as it can attract various types of entities.

Mediumship:

• A person serves as a bridge between spirits and the living, often delivering messages.

• Can be done through clairaudience (hearing), clairvoyance (seeing), or clairsentience (feeling).

• Common in spiritualism and ancestor work.

Possession (Invocational Channeling):

• The spirit temporarily takes control of the channeler’s body.

• Practiced in Vodou, Santería, and certain shamanic traditions.

• Requires training and safeguards to ensure safe release of the spirit.

Dream Channeling (Astral Communication):

• Spirits communicate through dreams, often delivering symbolic or direct messages.

• Lucid dreaming can be used to initiate intentional spirit contact.

• Useful for ancestor work and deity communication.

Scrying (Visionary Channeling):

• Using mirrors, water, fire, or crystals to receive visions or spirit messages.

• The channeler interprets images, symbols, or direct communication from spirits.

• Often used in witchcraft and divination.

Electronic Voice Phenomena (EVP) & Technomancy:

• Spirits communicate through electronic devices, such as audio recordings or digital messages.

• Used in paranormal investigation and modern occult practices.

Nature Spirit & Elemental Channeling:

• Communicating with spirits of plants, animals, and natural elements.

• Often practiced by animists, hedge witches, and shamans.

• Involves direct communion with Earth’s energies for guidance or magic.

Each method of channeling requires different levels of skill, protection, and intent. Choosing the right form depends on the practitioner’s experience, goals, and spiritual path.

Preparing for Spirit Channeling

Before attempting to channel, it’s crucial to set a foundation for safe and effective communication.

• Regularly practice grounding and centering: (visualize roots connecting you to the Earth). Develop a strong personal shielding technique (such as surrounding yourself in white or golden light). Meditate to build focus and strengthen your psychic abilities.

• Creating a Sacred Space: Cleanse the area using smoke, salt, sound, or other purification methods. Set up an altar or designated space with candles, crystals, and symbols of protection. Light incense or herbs such as mugwort, frankincense, or myrrh to enhance spirit communication.

• Choosing the Right Spirit to Channel: Ancestors and spirit guides are excellent for beginners since they have a natural connection to you. Deities and divine beings may require offerings and devotion before they engage. Elemental and nature spirits can be unpredictable but insightful. Unknown or wandering spirits should be approached cautiously, as their intentions may be unclear.

The Channeling Process

• Setting Intentions and Boundaries: Clearly state who you wish to contact and why (e.g., "I call upon my ancestors for wisdom and guidance"). Set firm boundaries by only inviting spirits of truth, light, and benevolence. Use protective symbols (such as pentagrams, sigils, or runes) to maintain control.

• Entering a Trance State: Close your eyes and focus on your breath. Use rhythmic drumming, chanting, or binaural beats to alter your consciousness. Visualize a doorway or veil between realms opening. Allow impressions, feelings, or thoughts to flow without forcing them.

• Receiving Messages: Pay attention to words, images, sensations, or emotions that come through. If using automatic writing, keep your hand loose and let it move freely. If you hear a voice, mentally confirm that the spirit has good intentions before engaging further. Avoid leading questions—ask open-ended ones instead (e.g., "What do I need to know?").

• Closing the Connection: Thank the spirit for their presence and guidance. Firmly state, "I now close this connection. You are released in peace." Visualize the doorway closing and cleanse yourself and the space using smoke, sound, or saltwater. Eat grounding foods (like bread, nuts, or chocolate) to restore balance.

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sunniskyies · 11 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A small installment about reader reacting to Stan and Ford’s swap, without her knowing the truth. 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Show-Typical injury and death, angst 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: The usual fluffy romance stuff, marriage! 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k 𝐀/𝐍: I wasn’t going to write anymore, so consider this short a 3.5! I had to rewatch Weirdmageddon again, so it’s accurate albeit overdramatic.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

Ford’s timing couldn’t be more perfect. Your lips have just parted, eyes still heavy-lidded, when your figures become silhouetted against a large, glowing red eye.

Bill is huge, his body crimson with rage; it’s only a matter of time until he discovers the Mystery Shack’s weakness.

“Quickly, Ford! Do something!” You say, drawing back from the warmth of his touch. His eyes linger on you for a second, before jumping to action. You watch, nail tip between anxious teeth, as Ford paints a large, almost cuneiform, circle reminiscent of a séance. You patiently listen to him as he instructs each of you your task (ignoring your lingering bitterness that you didn’t know he knew this). You frantically help the twins pull Stanley and Ford apart from trying to rip out each other’s throats.

And you watch as Bill Cipher looms above you, trapping you and the kids in a blue luminescent cage while the two most important men in your life are suspended in his grasp.

“Quickly, Dipper, grow the cage with your flashlight. The height-altering crystals!” You hiss under your breath.

“It’s really weird hearing you not deny the paranormal, Great Aunt ____,” he replies, pointing the magical flashlight at the bars, the cage growing until you can slip right through.

Mabel’s still helping you over the bars when Dipper calls to Ford and Stanley, “Save yourselves! Run, we’ll take care of Bill!”

“What?!” Ford cries, “That’s a suicide mission!” His eyes dart to yours, pleading. You only steel your expression further, trying to project something into that magnificent brain of his. It’ll all be fine, just get out of here.

“We’ll be okay,” Dipper replies, turning to his sister. “We’ve beat him before.”

“And we’ll beat him again!” She whoops. “Let’s go!”

You try to hurry out of the chamber quickly, but the kids refuse to go without taunting Bill further. Luckily, the demon does eventually give chase— but not before ensnaring the Pines boys once more when they try to follow you, Ford calling out a plea to you. You only look over your shoulder pained, reminding yourself that this will save them.

“When I get my hands on you I’m going to disassemble your molecules!” Cipher howls as his pyramid form hunts you down endless corridors. You pull the kids along, your heart racing with fear and adrenaline. You’re escaping, hope of safety within sight. But even after a daring ascent via grappling hook, and a smashed wall, the wretched entity still manages to seize you.

“Let us down!” You growl, trying to wriggle from his grasp as he smugly carries you back to Ford and Stan. “Please, let the kids down!”

Bill ignores you, all too eager to torment your fiancé. “Time’s up Fordsy! Look what I’ve got!” He coos down to the man. “It’s your family! I think I’m going to kill one of them, just for the heck of it!”

His eye scours over the three of you, squirming in his clutch. “Eeny, meeny, miny… you,” Cipher’s massive red locks onto you, and you're overcome by the hatred and jealousy that it instils.

You take a shuddering breath, trying to prepare yourself for what's to come. Your eyes flutter closed. Stanley, kids, I love you. Ford—

“Wait!” A small voice calls from the ground. From in the cage. “I surrender!”

You twist around to see a distant Ford gripping the walls of the cage, staring defiantly up at Bill.

“NO!” You cry, well, you try to. The air is stolen from your chest as you plummet from the sky, hitting the ground with a sickening sound.

Head and vision fuzzy, you look up to see Bill Cipher dismantling his cage, reaching out a flame-engulfed hand to the love of your life. And he… takes it.

Words knot uselessly in your mouth as you watch Ford sign away his life. “No Grunkle Ford, don’t trust him!” Dipper yells. But fate continues, the world rippling as a triangular shadow sinks into Ford’s hair, his knees buckling beneath him.

The knot unravels.

“STANLEY PINES DON’T YOU DO IT!” You shriek as the horrible man has the audacity to pull the memory gun from his interior pocket. “Please, Stanley! I just got him back! Don’t you kill him, goddammit!”

You think he’s just going to shoot, the steely man never one for hesitation. Yet, his head tilts, eyes catching yours. You’re taken aback; even from here, you sink into their endless sympathy. His warm gaze holds yours for a second.

His finger twitches, then pulls hard. A stream connects the gun to Ford’s head, a laser sinking into his mind and evaporating everything inside.

The scream that bubbles up within you is borderline demonic. As soon as Stanley drops the gun, you scramble over to Ford’s crumpled form. Your body falls into him, quivering hands clutching his face.

Almost instantly you're scrambling away again, perhaps shoving the body a bit too hard. Your back presses into ‘Stanley’s’ legs in your retreat. Your chest heaves, another pained sound peeling from within you.

“Ford?!” You garble. “What’s wrong with Ford that’s not Ford—”

A warm hand on your shoulder cuts you off. Still horrified, you glance up to see a tragically beautiful face looking down at you. The man crouches down behind you, wrapping two strong arms around your shaking form.

“Ford?” You whisper, disbelieving. Ford doesn’t reply, just tucking his head into the crook between your head and shoulder, looking over at Stanley.

Oh. Stanley.

“You horrid boys,” you whisper, a tear rolling down your cheek as you stare over at your best friend, Ford’s overcoat pooling around him. You reach a hand up to cup Ford’s face from its perch, the two of you resting in silence for a moment.

It’s almost poetic, Bill Cipher’s demise. The chaos around you returns to lush green valleys, bricks rebuilding themselves, demons disintegrating, all while your bodies stay pressed together.

“You’re okay,” you murmur to your beloved in this gap in time before you have to make your way over to Stan, before you have to be there for the kids.

“We made it,” he replies, so quiet you could miss it.

“How are we going to go on? What does the future look like for us now?” You ask, Stan’s form flickering in visibility before you as the chamber containing you dismantles itself. Your eyes watch him between the blocks of black stone and hellish artefacts.

“I don’t know, my love.” Ford’s hands have taken yours, rolling your engagement ring between finger and thumb.

In the middle of the Arctic Ocean, atop a bobbing grey-hulled ship, two lovers exchange rings. Their words are swept away by icy winds, waves folding them up and sinking their vows deep into the ocean’s heart. Salty spray makes the silver bands slide on, hands slick as they hold each other, an extra finger on each side.

You're bundled up in an old blue coat, borrowed from a man with a tan line on his temple from a lifetime sporting a fez. A new pair of sturdy black boots supports you from the ocean’s sway, a gift from your doting husband. You made an effort to wear a white blouse beneath your cold weather clothes, your silver hair a long veil swept out behind you, toiling in the wind.

Your face is flushed from the biting cold, but the man in front of you knows your ears are pink from the way he stares at you while he recites those honeyed words. In turn, you know his pupils are not dilated from the darkness of the storm clouds above, rather the way you clutch his face and press cool lips against his the second Stanley proclaims you can.

The warmth between your flush bodies is a sacred bubble from the arctic air, the sound of your twin heartbeats drowning out the creaks and groans of the ship. Ford’s lips taste like salt and biscuity rations, but when your nose buries into his face as you kiss you swear you can smell the tang of pine and ink. His hands against your skin are large and rugged and perfect for life on deck, yet you feel their calluses come from a lifetime adventuring a forested town rather than a life at sea.

Ford bends to you; arms ever supporting your weight, lips endlessly worshipping of yours. He smiles against you as he feels the coolness of your ring brush past him, excitement bubbling up at the idea that you are his wife. He is yours, and you get to call him as such.

Stanford Pines has traversed thousands of light years, slipped through countless dimensions and fought monsters well beyond our imaginations. But his favourite place in the whole universe, along every time continuum, is half a centimetre away from a woman, floating in the middle of the vast ocean.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14 @2hiigh2cry @taffycandyqt @papi-machucha @muffin1304

@space1crow @fries11 @yasuuuudere @shadowsandswords @darling-eos

@bloodspatteredprincess @snake-in-a-flower-crown

#gravity falls #ford x reader #stanford x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #stanford pines #gravity falls x reader #fanfic #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls stanford #one shot #ford pines x you #stanford pines x you #fanfiction

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markrosewater · 10 months ago

Note

What people are trying to communicate to you is exactly that the way modern sets handle tropes HAS in fact gotten more heavy-handed than in the past. Twins of Maurer Estate references the same trope as Unsettling Twins — but the former does so obliquely, and in a way that's particular to the specific Magic setting; whereas the latter simply states the literal name of the trope outright. And if you look more broadly, you'll see the same trend throughout recent sets.

I'm not even making an assertion that this change is a bad thing. I'm just hoping for you to recognize that the change exists as an objective observable phenomenon.

But, it hasn't got more heavy-handed. We've done blunt naming since the game began in Alpha (Black/White Knight, Lightning Bolt, Castle, Animate Dead, etc.) For example, here are names from expansions set on Innistrad (where the Twins of Maurer Estate example comes from):

Aim for the Head, Army of the Damned, Black Cat, Blood Pact, Boarded Window, Bride’s Gown, Bump in the Night, Burn Down the House, Burning Oil, Butcher’s Cleaver, Brain in a Jar, Ceremonial Knife, Cellar Door, Convicted Killer, Creepy Doll, Evil Twin, Executioner’s Hood, Foul Play, Gone Missing, Graveyard Shovel, Identity Thief, Jack-o’-Lantern, Jar of Eyeballs, Laid to Rest, Lost in the Woods, Magnifying Glass, Night Terrors, Runaway Carriage, Sanctify, Séance, Shard of Broken Glass, Skeleton Key, Stuffed Bear, Unruly Mob, Vampire’s Kiss, Walking Corpse, Wooden Stake and Zombie Apocalypse.

I think the thing going on this year is that we are heaviest with blunt names the first time we visit a world, because we haven't mined a lot of the simple, blunt names yet. 2024 had *three* new worlds each with a new theme with lots of tropes to plumb, plus a revisited world as a backdrop with a brand new theme we hadn't done.

Should we have pulled back a bit on the volume of top-down naming? Should we have done less new worlds in a row? Should we have intertwined unique story elements more? All of that is fair to discuss. I'm not saying we did everything correctly, because obviously some players are unhappy.

My point is this isn't a case of us doing things any differently than we've done before (except maybe in volume, and set proximity) when it comes to bluntness of naming.

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robin-evry · 9 months ago

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Is dead yuu right with you?

Tbh, I was a little confused at first because since are you referring to yuu who is similar to a ghost or a zombie or are you referring to yuu who is literally dead.

So I decided to create this, I hope it will satisfy you.

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃!𝐘𝐔𝐔 👻👻

a ghost is the soul or spirit of a dead person or non-human animal that is believed to be able to appear to the living. In ghostlore, descriptions of ghosts vary widely, from an invisible presence to translucent or barely visible wispy shapes to realistic, lifelike forms. The deliberate attempt to contact the spirit of a deceased person is known as necromancy, or in spiritism as a séance. Other terms associated with it are apparition, haunt, haint, phantom, poltergeist, shade, specter, spirit, spook, wraith, demon, and ghoul.

( English is not my first language )

In this scenario, yuu died during the dwarf mine cave arc, they died by having their head being pierced by the pick axe of the monster. After their death was announced Crowley decided to hide the death, because it will stain the reputation of the school and their body was buried in the forest near the cave or was cremated and spread around the forest.

The good thing is that they have returned as a ghost unfortunately because they don't want to leave their friends and grim.

Ghost!Yuu appears ethereal, with a translucent form that resembles how they looked in life, but with a faint, ghostly glow. They still look exactly the same as when they died, but they do have an left open wound from where the pickaxe pierce them in the head.

they can speak, but only in whispers or vague, fragmented sentences. Some students can hear them better than others, while others may not hear them at all.

They have the ability to influence the physical world in small ways—moving objects slightly, chilling a room, or writing messages with frost on windows.

People can still see them but it's very vague the next thing you were walking in the hallway and then ghost!yuu would appear to walk past them. They can disappear or reappear but they can't control this ability.

They cannot appear in photos only if the camera has some magic in it to detect them, or they will appear but it's very vague only showing their outline that they were there.

Whenever their spirit is near, the temperature drops significantly, and lights flicker or dim. Some of the more sensitive students feel chills down their spines or notice frost forming on windows. It’s an eerie reminder that they are always watching, even when they don’t make themselves known.

They tried to communicate with the living by subtly manipulating their surroundings. They write cryptic messages in the frost on mirrors or use objects to draw attention to clues related to the mystery of the mine collapse. Ace and Deuce are the first to notice these signs, though they’re not always sure if it’s truly their or just their imaginations.

Since dead!yuu is not originally from this world making their ghost form more different than the ghost in twst. Their ghost form is more vague and they have limited access to communicate in the physical world unlike the ghost of twst since they can interact normally

They can pass through walls and objects at will, and can turn invisible when they want to avoid detection. However, they struggle to interact with solid objects, meaning they can’t always physically participate in daily tasks. But soon after enough training they will start to get better at interacting in the physical world

They can float or fly short distances, which makes traveling through the school easy. Occasionally, they finds themselves unintentionally teleporting when emotional, appearing in unexpected places without warning.

Though they can’t directly touch most things, they can subtly manipulate their surroundings—flickering lights, cold drafts, or moving small objects with enough focus and they can lower the Temperature of the environment they're in.

They can only speak in whispers or faint echoes, and not everyone can hear them clearly. Over time, they learn to control this, becoming more audible to certain people, especially those attuned to the supernatural.

They attend classes like any other student, though they struggle with certain tasks that require physical interaction. Teachers treat them with a mix of curiosity and respect, often assigning special accommodations so Yuu can participate. For example, in potion-making, they must direct Grim or another classmate to handle the ingredients for them. Over time, they learns to manipulate objects enough to contribute, albeit in unique ways.

Most students are initially wary of them, especially because they are a ghost. Some believe they bring bad luck, while others are fascinated by their presence. However, their personality (whether warm, curious, or mischievous) eventually breaks through these barriers, and they form close friendships with students like Ace, Deuce, and others. They also becomes known for pranking students, using their ghostly abilities to spook the more gullible ones like Epel and Sebek.

Even though their personality stays the same, dead!yuu is slowly suffering from depression, since they died here in twst, they realized that their soul would not come back to their original world or will be able to taste delicious food. Which may cause them to overblot.

attacks or magic cannot literally damage it usually phases thru their body.

During their first encounter malleus was admiring the gargoyles in ramshackle when dead!yuu pop their heads out and introduce themselves.

They also scared idia, they pop out there thru his monitor during an important game and he literally jumps back and faints, this causes the attention of Ortho who rush over his room ready to attack, after some explanation, they introduce each other and they would usually watch idia play his game during their free time.

Their magic allows them to interact with objects and people in a spectral manner. They can move objects without touching them directly, using ghostly energy. For example, they can open doors, pick up light objects, or create gusts of wind by channeling their spectral form. This ability could grow stronger with time, allowing them to manipulate larger or more complex things as they practice.

They can project ghostly energy to create shields or barriers. This magic is translucent, appearing like shimmering mist or ethereal light, and can protect others from harm, though it might be less sturdy than a living person’s magic. Over time, they could develop this magic to create temporary ghostly constructs—like weapons or tools—though these would have a fleeting nature and eventually dissipate.

They could possess objects and, in rare cases, people. When possessing objects, Yuu can animate them for a short period—think of a book flying off a shelf, a pen writing on its own, or even a weapon moving as if it were wielded by an invisible hand. Possessing people, however, is more taxing and would likely only be used in extreme circumstances. When Yuu does possess someone, it’s for brief moments, and they cannot control someone fully; instead, they might influence their movements or speech slightly.

They can fade in and out of sight, turning invisible or making parts of their body intangible. This allows them to pass through walls, avoid physical attacks, or remain unseen when they wish to observe something in secret. However, while invisible, their presence still leaves a chill in the air, and those attuned to magic may still sense them nearby.

They also have the ability to create mini ghosts or hollows that they can manipulate in their will These Hollows can come in different sizes depending on what the user desires The Hollows are able to fly and, being intangible, are immune to physical attacks. These ghosts can work as their eyes and ears around NRC. This ghost could take the form on how they were made, some ghosts were created to explode, work as clones for dead!yuu, can help reganerate magical energy if their friends are running low on magic, This ability is very versatile.

Their magic weakens significantly the further they are from the grounds of Night Raven College. Since their soul is bound to the school, they lose strength if they wander too far from its magical energy, meaning they can only fully access their abilities within the school or areas closely tied to it.

They cannot perform magic that directly manipulates physical matter in the same way living students can. For example, they cannot create fire, water, or other solid elements. Their magic is limited to more spiritual or ghostly effects, like influencing dreams, moving objects, or creating phantom constructs.

Get along with the other ghosts in NRC, they teach them how to interact and maintain their physical form for long as well how to pull pranks and use their ability.

Have a disdain for Crowley for hiding the truth from the world, he will excuse himself saying it jeopardize the school reputation as well saying they should accept being expelled then they shouldn't be in this situation this angered dead!yuu which causes them to make Crowley living days hell, obeject thrown around and other.

The Adeuce as well grim blame themselves for dead!yuu turning into a ghost, even though they said they were fine about it and that it wasn't their fault they still blame themselves for their unfortunate fate.

Grim was the most devastated by their death, and when they comeback as a ghost he refused to believe it and said they were just an illusion, after calming him down and talk to each other grim cried and wanted to embrace them but soon phased thru their body and he become more overprotective over them saying that it won't happen again.

#not canon #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst scenario #disney twst #twisted wonderland yuu au #twst mc #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst yuu au #dead!yuu #ghost!yuu

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