#past life Tumblr posts

  • In the middle of a new house, alone, quiet, and peaceful, Liza never felt more dead. Life was meant to be full of living. People and plants and animals and noise and light. But there was none of that here. Sighing, she trotted over to the vintage red acrylic record player she had picked out on a whim from a thrift store. After some consideration she popped in the Queen record and flopped back onto the plush navy sofa. Faking her death had been hard, but at least she’d had her team to go home to when that month was over. Now there was nothing. 

    A harsh wind swept through the living room abruptly, cutting off Liza’s flashback abruptly. A raven the size of a large house cat stared her down before dropping the velvety sack it carried inside the threshold, then taking flight. Shortly after its departure, a hawk swept in the open door to roost on a lampshade. With a screech, the hawk too relinquished a thick envelope and took off like a bullet. The door slammed shut behind the hawk.

    Liza had watched the birds with a sort of incredulous wonder. When she had lived amongst legends in the olden days, it had not been uncommon for them to receive a message bird, but two in one day? That was unsettling. “I suppose I should hope that neither of these is a cleverly concealed incendiary device.” She mused aloud, collecting her mail. 

    The more alluring pouch was the first opened. As Liza carefully untied the drawstrings, she considered what might warrant a message bird and ornate packaging. It was difficult, if not impossible, to find a message hawk these days. Come to think of it, no one knew where she lived except two teleporters that could be here in seconds if they had a message. One of whom was actually proficient in texting. (Hint: It isn’t Bishop). Out of the bag spilled three runestones and a note:

    Remember your true home, and you will never be lost.

    Liza crumpled the note in her fist. That wasn’t helpful. She needed comfort, companionship, and probably therapy. Not fortune cookie wisdom. The ancient warrior shook her head in dismissal, considering the runes. Eihwaz, Raidho, and Dagaz. Stability, a Journey, and Hope. She knew these runes. Wait. Liza dropped the stones as if they had suddenly burned her hands. These were her runes. From somewhere in the back of her mind, the fabric of the pouch triggered a memory. Her cloak had been made of this material, the runes had been emblazoned on her chest plate. The stones were quickly swept back into their bag.

    “Not today. I am not getting tangled up in a past life’s nonsense today.” Liza grumbled, using the smooth and firm texture of the reddish wood floor to ground herself. Whatever sick game the All Father was playing, she wasn’t laughing. 

    Liza carefully opened the envelope left by the falcon and dumped the contents into her hand. Another note, this one calligraphic, and a stack of photographs.


    You cannot hide forever. Even with your death, I do not consider your debt paid- and trust me- I will see it fulfilled. If you surrender, this will go smoothly enough for all involved parties. If you don’t one of us will have a very painful evening. I shall arrive within minutes of this bird. Prepare yourself as you like.


    Aaron Pionis

    P.S. If you value the well being of your shadow, do not contact her. I have taken appropriate precautions that she might find….unpleasant.

    “That drama queen is still holding a grudge about the Raptor Incident. What a loser.” This note too was crumpled and thrown into the trash. Aaron was one of the first things Liza had considered when decorating the house. The whole space was designed to keep him out via magical barriers. Still, if he had found a way to harm Kasai, then perhaps he had thought of this too.

    Liza stood to pace back and forth, only stopping when a knock rang out her door. The familiar sensation of attempted hemokinesis crackled through her veins, but this time was different. Liza hadn’t fed in almost three days. There was no blood in her body for Aaron to control.

    “Let me in!” The annoying older vampire demanded from outside. Liza could picture him gnashing his fangs in frustration.

    “Nope!” She shot back, too tired all of the sudden to come up with witty banter. Danforth and Nox would be here soon for a feeding lesson anyway. She just had to wait Aaron out. This was what Aaron had neglected to consider: Vampires could not enter a building without an inhabitants permission. In the past he had worked around this by simply having a controlled victim let him in themselves, but clearly that wouldn’t work this time. 

    Liza smirked, then trotted up to her room to steal some shuteye before her lesson. The stack of photographs could wait. She fell asleep to the gloriously frustrated sounds of her defeated nemesis throwing out orders and demands willy nilly. It reminded her of the good old days, and with that she was out.

    @sola-whumpings-primary-blog @thewholeuniverseisrighthere

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    It was a chilly dark evening. No moon shone in the sky, as the only light that light the night was from the amber glow of the tall lanters lining the cobblestone street in England.

    I walked in a wine coloured victorian dress, with my sister, out of a small riverside pub. It was much too late for women to be out…especially in a place like a pub. Our business was unknown, but we showed no fear in our faces or in our hearts.

    Walking from the pub, I could hear the clicks and clacks of our heeled shoes as we walked down the stone street parallel to a thick, quiet river.

    Several steps away, we began to be followed by 5 “pissed” (drunk) men. With clear mal intent, they murmered drunken profanities as they stumbled behind us. Still, no fear from myself or my sister. We walked with our heads high as we pretended not to notice the approaching danger.

    In front of us was a large bridge, with archways underneath it. Several of the amber glowing street lights were not lit, and a growing darkness blinded the nearest side of the rivers overpass.

    This is where we walked to. For the men were not stalking us, we were stalking them.

    A few more clicks and clacks of our heeled shoes, and we disappeared into the drape of darkness, the whispers of the mischevious men, close behind. They followed us…into the darkness.

    Screams were heard but only quickly, and then silence.

    Silence followed by soft clicks and clacks of heeled shoes.

    My sister and I sauntered out of the dark, with few blood stains on our dresses. We walked with our heads high as we headed home.

    This short but eerie memory had me wishing it was just a reoccuring dream for many many years. Curious of what really happened in those dark shadowed moments.

    For so long I thought of it as nothing more than my imagination…though every cobblestone of the street felt so real beneath my feet.

    Yet, in 2018 something happened. I was living in Florida, USA with plans to move to the UK. Throughout my plans, I began making friendships online and told my story to one ery good friend who was a generational local of the York, England area. My story floored him.

    He quickly googled some images of a pub that he frequented. A small pub, on a cobblestone street, beside a thick and quiet river, accompanied by an archway bridge.

    The image sent me into a new world….back into my past life….back into that very pub.

    The excitement had me booking our flights that very same day.

    Within a week, I was walking down the very same cobblestone street, outside the very same pub I had been remembering for a lifetime, and to the very same archways of the bridge were something unthinkable happened.

    Are past lives real? Yes!

    Do you want to know how you can discover your own past life?

    Growing up, as a generational psychic, seeing people’s (and my own), past lives has always been a speciality of mine. Let me take you into a deep and detailed adventure of who you were in a past life, with a past life psychic reading!


    Psychic & Past Life Regression Specialist

    Sarah C LaBrie


    #horror story #real scary stories #past life #real past life experience #past life regression #past lives #Past Life Reading
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  • i’m late but scotty and todd’s song past life is a bop 🔥🔥🔥

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    The last post for my day.

    Scarlett when she was a child.

    She wanted to kill her self after she found her parents dead bodies in The Living room inside her house she still lives in and after she realized how a dangerous monster she could be Because of her eye… But she decided to actually not. She didn’t told anyone about that she wanted to do it.

    And yes she had Long hair back then.


    #hell of otaku #battle#myoc#past life #picrew.me
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  • It’s amazing to ponder about what the place looked like that you’re currently are residing in the past millennium. 

    #past life#past #a penny for your thoughts #pondering
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  • I owe you something…. & it is far from a fine.

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  • 26. 10. 2020: Souls of Us

    Sometimes I feel like my soul is old as time. Back when my toes dug deep into the earth, blisters on my feet. When my eyes marveled the first creation of fire, fell upon the marvelling spots in the sky.

    Reborn again to when people wore clothes they felt most uncomfortable in. A hat, an itchy mustache, a beard - playing forward into a woman with a puffy dress with a corset for me to barely breathe in and she died young, turning into a man, poor and dirty, greedy for power and authority. Maybe my soul belonged to a poet or a painter later on, who was obsessed with the trees or faces. In another world I could have been a woman, afraid of her husband, cherishing my children or I was a navy man in the 80s, dying in the war.

    Or maybe… My soul was created, brand new, on the day I was born with no past lives attached - to create a new line, a powerful line of people who rise above or fall back face down. My soul may have a mission, given here for a purpase, needing more than one physical body to complete it. I could find things facinating just because of that. Old souls have seen it all but new souls always crave to see things they do not recognise. I marvel at the trees and the wind among the branches. Autumn is my favorite, winter is a crying sorrow for my soul. My soul may be young, cheery from all the things it finds new. It wants to reach out, maybe to old souls, when it recognises it in another person. To meet it, see it- in the eyes of the beholder. Maybe dark brown as the depth of the Earth or the sky blue, innocent but dangerous. Or hazel, a mix of all sorts of colours… To touch an old soul, to feel it lingering upon my own…

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  • things i were in my past lives, in order: witch, black widow, pomegranate, queen, bat, assassin, femme fatale, heretic, black cat, spy, anne boleyn, harlot.

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  • i found out information about my soulmate and i’m straight up so sad and i’m kind of just accepting that i’ll probably never meet him and like that’s ok i don’t have to date the person i was with in my past life i just think it’d be hella cool if i did

    like someone like this post so i can reblog it with the information i have so i can talk about him

    #piper vents#soulmate#romantic soulmates#past life#huuuuuuuuuuu #i want to meet him #but i’m supposed to stop looking for him #but like i Cant
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  • Past life origin of birthmark and photobomb at Stonehenge.

    With Past Life Psychic Medium Vera and Angel Artist Christina.

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  • Bill Murray’s past life and origin of rat birthmark

    With Past Life Psychic Medium Vera and Angel Artist Christina.

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  • Sicily…Malta….

    One small plane trip away from greece…

    Business. Stability. Money. Love. I have it all waiting.

    Culture. Architecture. Spirituality. A place rich with spirit, easier to see the divine than anywhere I’ve been in america.

    I’m going home….It’s pulled me for years and now I’m going home…or as close as I can be.

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  • #rtr actually likes music. theres just not much he listens to and he willingly listens to music very rarely. his favorite song is #independent together from sutm #rtr/awgag#past life
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  • Among last night’s nightmares I was a Black Muslim being executed

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