ghostly voices

Send me a symbol for a horror-inspired starter

☠   Our muses are going ghost hunting together
☮   One of our muses is infected with a mysterious virus (effects are up to the mun)
☯   Our muses are survivors after a nuclear holocaust
Ω   Our muses are survivors after a zombie apocalypse
♤   One of our muses is a ghost and the other just moved into their house
♣   One of our muses is a werewolf, and it’s a full moon
♡   One of our muses is a vampire
♢   Our muses have just created a monster in a lab  
⚜  Our muses are lost in the woods when they hear ghostly voices/singing
★   Our muses get stuck in an abandoned building
☆   Our muses are being chased by a masked killer
☾   One of our muses is a masked killer and the other is their victim
☼  One of our muses has the other chained up
☀   Our muses are at sea when something stirs underneath the water
☹   Our muses are babysitting late at night and they get spooked
¢    Our muses find a spellbook and decide to test it out
☚   Our muses play with a Ouija board
☝    Our muses find a possessed item

I also think about how ghosts are only scary when they are recent.

A lot of the trad British ghosts are Queens or clunkers in armour. Not scary, right? And then there was a huge period of Victorian ghosts, because of all the gothic stories from that era. They are kinda scary, but…again not the worst.

One thing Torchwood did a lot was blitzhorror. Now ghosts of the war ARE scary. And I think that’s the point, a ghost has to be at the right distance of recently dead to be in uncanny valley. Because ghosts of the second world war are scary, but of the civil war are not. Like how museums display bones from the civil war, but not from wars that are recent - even though they are still people who died in pain, there is a difference.

And more recent ghost things like AHS or Sixth Sense, the ghosts are predominantly contemporary and those are the scariest of all.

Imagine if Majora’s Mask were set in a 1950s version of Termina, and when Link uses his ocarina to manipulate the flow of time it affects technology in strange ways. People begin to get phone calls from the future, television broadcasts skip and drag and display upsetting distortions, and the radio is completely garbled, with ghostly voices occasionally emerging from the static.

These uncanny phenomena are a result of each reincarnation of Termina receiving transmissions from former timelines that Link has erased. With every new cycle Link creates, the media around him becomes more warped and twisted, and the people of Clock Town become increasingly suspicious and afraid. As he nears the end of his quest, Link isn’t just racing against the falling moon but against the tangible hostility of the community as well.

“I have no problem with that; but D'Arcy doesn’t write songs and she doesn’t necessarily say, ‘I’ve got this vocal part.’ So unless i tell her, ‘Sing this,’ she probably won’t be doing vocals. And under the circumstances this album was written, I had a hard enough time figuring out what the fuck I was gonna sing.” “In the studio, a lot of the same aesthetic can be acheived by having Billy sing,” Chamberlin adds. “Yeah, a lot of what sounds like her on this album is really me,” adds Corgan. “On 'Quiet,’ where there’s that ghostly kind of high voice , that was me.”

anonymous asked:

Examine! The Puppet

A possessed doll once used to give prizes to children in the arcade of an old pizzeria. It has since been ‘retired’, and seems to have a tear in one shoulder that someone stitched shut with an old shoelace. The empty eyes of its mask seem to follow you around the room. It does not like being left alone.

“Can I help you with something…?” Mike asked sarcastically, not even bothering to open his eyes as striped fingers tugged at his pillow. He’d only just gotten home from work an hour ago, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

“I’m booooorreeed….” A ghostly voice whined petulantly. “Read me a story, or something.” Mike whined in return and tried to bury his face in the pillow.

“Can’t you wait, like, four more hours?” He complained. “I just got off work…” The voice huffed, unimpressed, but did not whine again. After a few seconds, Mike felt a small weight press down on the mattress, and something small snuggled up against his front.

Mike muttered a muffled ‘thank you’, and draped one arm over the small form before going back to sleep.

devil/angel au headcanon pt2

[part 1: overview]

a giant mess of character hcs bc i cant organize thoughts (i try to list them by characters)

Keep reading

You can’t love me
I’m 2 parts alcohol and 2 parts forgotten promises
My bones are shattered
And my veins burst with fire.
I’m just bones and unreturned love
A girl your mother warns you about
When you lie in her lap
Unaware of a monster like me.
I’ve ripped apart every fool
Who’s tried to love me.
I’m the creaking of your bones
Early in the morning
And the ghostly voices
In the middle of night.
I’m a storm you’re unaware of while
You sleep peacefully with your satin quilts
I’m the weight on your shoulder which holds you down
And the blood you taste in your mouth when you’re left
All alone.
And darling an angel can’t fall in love with a monster.
That’s the rule.
— 

I’m the shadow of your fears// S.M

By @saniamushtaq123

egonmcsquared  asked:

⚜ Our muses are lost in the woods when they hear ghostly voices/singing

Locals had been telling rumors of a strange entity living in the woods near a local park in the quiet rural town for years. Things had been fine up until a few weeks ago. There had been disappearances, people were waking up in the woods with no idea how they got there, and strange symbols had been found carved into trees. Ray hadn’t been too concerned on the bust, it seemed easy enough, but things got worse as the sun set. Now they were lost, and if the strange noises were anything to go by, they weren’t alone.

“Egon?” Ray whispered, moving his flashlight around. “Do you hear that?” 

Darkness clouded the corpses vision as the sound of footsteps seemed to draw closer and closer to her long forgotten grave.
The corpse, Túyās corpse, had been in the ground for ages after her assination was put into place. She kinda expected something like that to happen. But now, all she wanted was to see where the sound was coming from.
Finally freeing her decaying limbs from their stiff position she began to push at the earth above her in hopes of breaking through. And her wish came true when her skeletal hand broke free, clawing at the ground to pull herself up.
Roots snapped from where they grew on her head as she rose up, the moon shadowing her in an ominous way.
“ Is someone there? ”
She spoke in a raspy, ghostly voice.

Your regular reminder that you do not have to like scary things or being scared to be a ghost.

Your ghost host will *never* be watching Sixth Sense again.

Ghost has a lot of associations - one of which is scary, but there’s also memory, nostalgia, regret, presence, in-between, lingering and peace-seeking. And others I’ve not listed. So don’t worry if you identify with other parts of ghostliness. Scary isn’t your only option.

Kitchi submitted:

guests in the night

This is not really scary story, but i wanted to share this with you..this happened in finland, in the old rest home.(and im sorry my english is bad?)

I have a little story of my parents’ friend’s old hotel. My dad spend lot of time there one time and experienced some paranormal things. One night he slept in one of the rooms, and middle of the night he heard lot of people talking something in the hallway(he could not make clear of it) and right after he saw shadows coming under the door, like people were walking in the hallway. Our dog was with my dad, and she didnt react to it, usually she would bark. In the morning he just said to the owner(who is my dads friend) that there were guests in the night. Owner denied it, there were not guests in the night..my dad was the only guest. During the day day my dad was chatting with the owner in the kitchen and out of nowhere drinking glasses started to rattle, the owner just yelled “shut up there!!” And the rattle stopped.

Sometimes the owners wake up middle of the night to that someone is pushing them from under the bed, But there is no one.

Fuck Yeah Nightmares Mod Weeper answered: That is eerie.9/10 for scares and thanks for sharing.

Shenanigans, In the style of "If you give a mouse a cookie."

If you walk into an abandoned house, you shouldn’t yell “MARCO” at the top of your gnomish lungs.

If you yell “MARCO” at the top of your gnomish lungs, you might hear a ghostly child’s voice say “Polo!”

If you hear a ghostly child’s voice say “Polo!”, you should not continue to play until the voice leads you to a derelict child’s bedroom.

If you are lead to a derelict child’s bedroom, you should not listen to see if the voice comes from under the bed.

If the voice comes from under the bed, you should never ever look.

If you look, you might find a juvenile Balor with a weird sense of humor because the DM is an asshole.

If you find a juvenile Balor with a weird sense of humor because the DM is an asshole, then it will demand 500 snickerdoodles as payment for not devouring you and/or your party.

Luckily, as a silly, you took craft:baking and can begin the most cartoon inspired side quest of baking cookies in a haunted mansion for a demon from the deepest reaches of the 9 Hells.

fanfiction.net
Ghostly Voices by Alex311

Someone will be seeing dead people, but it won’t be in the Walker persuasion (AU Richonne). I am also a fan of Ghost Whisperer and wanted to do something like it with my favorite characters. Of course there is a killer amongst the “good” people of Kings County. Enters a young beautiful ghost whisperer that will help with the investigations but also steal a certain young Deputy.

I wrote this whole essay about ableism and horror stories, but the tl;dr is this:

Horror stories are supposed to be scary, and all the best ones overlap with real life fears. Unfortunately, our fears are rarely rational or polite.

Vampires are all fear of sex. Zombies are fear of contagion. There are no shortage of crazies, whether this is haunted asylums or “mad” killers, or psychological horror (always about the cool bits of mental illness, the nightmares and delusions, and never the bit where you don’t shower for three weeks or leave your bedroom). And the same is true for class (the “killer hick” genre) and for race (no shortage of movies which make you think ugh)

As people who want to be aware of people’s needs, and promote social justice, getting the balance right is incredibly challenging. I recognise that the portrayal of “madness”, suicides, and asylum horror causes more difficulty for me as a mentally ill person in my day to day life. But I do love a good insanity horror story.

I actually think horror as we know it would be dead as a genre if we started trying to make it “safe” for people with complex needs to enjoy, and also not relying on damaging stereotypes.

But how do we balance that against people’s real life needs + struggles? & Also how do we maintain a space for people who, say have experienced abortion to write abortion horror stories?

idk guys, what do you think?

She’s born in the midst of a violent storm -
the wind is howling, wailing, a ghostly voice
whistling through the night, and
the trees cower under its might;
the rain is harsh and cold, neverending,
enveloping the world in grey, and
the thunder splits apart the
stormy skies and leaves silence
in its wake, as if holding breath
until her cry high and clear,
and then the lightening strikes
and the forest is painted red.

She’s six when her mother gets killed -
it’s a sudden, unexpected death,
a murder by a flash of silver metal;
she still remembers the warm blood
on her hands as she pulls the dagger out
and pushes her mother’s cooling body away.
She knows then that the world is too big
for her, too dangerous, too scary, but
her tears can’t bring her mother back to life.  
Instead, she holds the blade in her
shaking hand and bares her teeth in challenge.
She’s six when she kills her first man.

She’s ten when Anya finds her -
wild, dirty, a mess of broken nails
and blood-clotted hair; she snarls and
watches avidly as Anya approaches her carefully.
The blade is a comforting weight in her hand
and she has prepared a poison just in case.
Anya kneels and reaches for a dagger
of her own; a battle then - her smile is
wicked; but the dagger sinks in the dirt
in front of her and not into her skin,
an offering she can’t yet fathom.
She’s ten when Anya shaves her head.

She’s fourteen when she gets her first tattoo -
the ink is black and burning and
the needle scratches at her skin,
drawing redness to the surface,
stinging more than she thought it would.
But this is just another test
and she has no plans on failing,
so she grits her teeth so hard she briefly
wonders if her jaw will get stuck that way.  
The day turns to night and she breathes in
the smell of ink when the needle stops.
She’s fourteen when she grins and asks for another.

She’s sixteen when she falls in love -
Costia is bright and full of laughter,
curly hair and twinkling eyes,
gentle touch and autumn breeze.
(And she loves her oh so much that
sometimes her heart feels ready to burst.)
Costia is blushing cheeks and bitten lips,
falling stars and shared dreams in the night.
Costia is… dying in her arms, smiling,
always smiling, lips painted red
but not from kisses.
She’s sixteen when she vows revenge.

She’s seventeen when they summon her -
the whispers follow her every step
as if they’re the cloak around her shoulders.
Her head is held high but her
eyes are empty and that scares
them more than the battle stories
they’ve been told of her cutting wrath
and merciless blade.
It doesn’t stop them to bow at her feet
when the Spirit finds a home
in her hollow soul.
She’s seventeen when she becomes Commander.

She’s nineteen and her blood is raging -
the Ice Queen is the last to break,
to fall down and accept her lead
(but even then it’s not enough
for what she did to Costia).
The wars amongst her kind are over
and as much as she craves to
turn the white snow red, she sees
the Mountain she has to overthrow,
and that war is far from won, so
she spares the Queen, if only for a moment.
She’s nineteen when the skies rain fire.

She’s nineteen when her plans take a turn -
she gains strong allies where at first
she saw nothing but easily defeated foes.
It’s hard to look at their leader,
to gaze into her eyes and see Costia’s
strength in her, Costia’s resolve and
stubbornness, Costia’s spirit.
And despite the walls around her heart,
Clarke meets no resistance, and
she’s shaken to the core,
suddenly unsure of who she really is.
She’s nineteen when she chooses her people over Clarke.

She’s twenty when the legend reaches her -
of a blue-eyes demon with a healing touch,
that had the Mountain crumble with
nothing but her will.
She knows then that she was wrong
for Clarke was not like Costia,
a summer child filled with hope;
no, Clarke was just like her,
a broken dark soul feeding on blood,
born in a storm so savage 
that the Spirits were begging for help.
She’s twenty when she learns there’s another like her.
—  She’s Lexa, a child of rain and blood (m.p)

So here is my tw:suicide/unreality otherkin science post of the day.


I do in fact have another otherkin friend in the visible world; and I have found a lot of similarities in our experiences.


1) Her kin things started, like mine, shortly after a major suicide attempt.
2) Like me, she finds her kinfeels helpful and comforting in dealing with difficult mental health stuff.
3) she also identifies with her kintype more broadly, for less serious reasons. For example - everyone knows I’m super into ghosts, films, books, etc - even if they don’t know about me being ghostkin per se.
4) but she also experiences, like I do, a very serious, terrifying aspect to her kintype: times where she feels not necessarily in control, or like the thing is threatening her or taking over; times where her kin is both real and dangerous.


The 2/4 split fascinates me. One of my major triggers is the sudden belief that I am dead or dying and all this is illusory. You know: like in Sixth Sense. I start thinking that I am dying in the back of an ambulance and this is an especially sadistic variant on life flashing before my eyes, one where my life flashes forward and here I am thinking I own my own house with a garden and I have a gentle boyfriend, when at any moment the dream will go and ill be back on a drip.


(Tbh home ownership and a gentle boyfriend does sound like a fantasy…)


It’s horrible, and my one truly serious symptom (typically i don’t hallucinate, believe unusual things etc, I am just depressed and i forget to bathe often enough). How can you prove the world is real? Last time my boyfriend grabbed a dictionary and had me read it, on the basis that written words cant be read in dreams.

And yet i also embrace being a ghost. You would think that if the thought of being dead triggers me so badly I doubt reality, running a ghostkin blog is the *last* thing I should do. Somehow it doesn’t. Somehow there is a healthy and positive aspect to this feeling. Maybe it’s like acceptance in dbt: not accepting things makes the panic rise. Telling myself, yes I AM a ghost is a form of constantly accepting that feeling before it gets out of control and into trigger territory. Or making the feeling into something positive.


I’m asking today for people with the same 2/4 split. Experiencing a kintype as helpful at times, and threatening at other times. Is this a common otherkin feeling? Anybody else? Or are we the unusual ones here.