#Ghostly Immigration

[the-most-humble-blog]

Case File #LL-31

Name: La Llorona (aka Maria Del Rio, aka The Weeping Smuggler) Nationality: Origin unclear, suspected ethereal undocumented immigrant with a long history of crossing metaphysical and physical borders. Status: Detained spectral entity, recognized more for her nuisance than her folklore charm. Crimes: Illegal spectral immigration, having infiltrated the United States multiple times without clearance from any known dimensional border agency. Spreading terror and distress among communities, especially those along waterways where she is known to manifest. Attempting to manipulate both mortal and ethereal laws to her advantage, often using her wails and cries as tools of emotional blackmail. Last Known Location: Apprehended at a notorious ghostly trafficking route along the Rio Grande, currently held at a secure paranormal containment facility south of Tijuana. Operational Briefing: After being informed of the severity of her charges during an intense debriefing session, La Llorona ceased her incessant wailing and, understanding the gravity of her situation, invoked her right to remain silent. Reports indicate she subsequently made use of her permitted ethereal phone calls to contact local immigration attorneys, seeking any possible loophole to evade the charges laid against her. ICE’s Official Statement: "La Llorona believed she could manipulate the system with her tragic tales and spectral sob stories. However, she quickly learned that in the United States, it is the voters and their elected officials who hold the ultimate power, not the legends and myths from south of the border. Our agents, alongside an invaluable coalition of spirits—including government agents, Confederate soldiers, and ghost units from the Jim Crow era—have worked tirelessly to secure our nation against all forms of illegal spectral activity." Charges and Legal Maneuvering: Upon realizing the futility of her cries, she attempted to negotiate her status by offering to 'give wet piñatas' to any agent willing to sponsor her for citizenship. This vulgar proposition was met with disdain and rejection by the agents, all of whom were committed to maintaining their integrity and upholding the law without compromise. Post-Capture Enforcement: Ethereal and human agents, disgusted by her lack of self-respect and dignity, showed no pity, reinforcing the boundaries between lawful immigration and manipulative exploitation of American sympathy. The coordinated efforts of the Ethereal-United States Spirits and Specters Enforcement (EUSSE) have been crucial in maintaining safety and order, demonstrating that America's defense against illegal immigration extends beyond the living to include the spectral. Conclusion: La Llorona's case serves as a stark reminder that the spirit world is not exempt from the laws that govern our land. Her capture and ongoing detention are testaments to the unyielding vigilance required to protect the nation from all forms of illegal entry, ensuring that the safety and security of American citizens are never compromised by ethereal or earthly threats.

[saltedsnailstudio]

Ghost Turnip

Linocut print on kitakata paper.

This guy is inspired by the “ghost turnip” plaster-cast model in the National Museum of Ireland that was created by museum artist Eileen Barnes from a turnip jack-o-lantern donated in 1943 by Roos Ní Braonáin, a school teacher with a desire to preserve the history of the style of Jack-o-lanterns that were popular in Ireland in the 19th and early 20th centuries.

In the states today, carved pumpkin jack-o-lanterns have become completely ubiquitous in late October. This tradition actually comes to us from Irish and Scottish immigrants who brought over the practice of carving faces into turnips/other locally-available root vegetables & lighting them from inside with a candle around Samhain.

The terminology “jack-o-lantern” has a particularly storied past: It’s usage in the 1600s was basically interchangeable with “will-o-the-wisps” which refers to mysterious, ghostly lights seen over peat bogs. It isn’t until the 1800s that we see the term “jack-o-lantern” used to refer to a carved vegetable. It’s believed the term is derived from an Irish folktale about a fiend named Jack who tricked the devil and must wander the earth for all eternity with just a (turnip) lantern to light his way; Stingy Jack, Jack-of-the-lantern, jack-o-lantern.

[candyistoosweet]

Olivia Becker Henderson

(Please click for a better quality)

Full Birth Name:

Olivia Becker Henderson

Mostly used name:

Olivia, The girl with red tears

Species:

Vengeful spirit // Ghost

Age:

Locked in 9

Birth Date:

1950 October 1th

Death Date:

1959 October 31th

Cause of Death:

Strangled to death & Choked

Gender:

Cis-woman, hertrosexual. She/Her

Height:

133cm (4'4)

Weight:

21kg (46.3lb)

Appearance:

She has bright red, wavy hair that barely reaches her shoulders. Her skin is completely white and pale, making her look almost lifeless, with no freckles unlike most red-haired people. Her eyes are a dark olive color, and red blood flows from both her eyes, her neck, and her lower body.

She wears light cyan pajama-style dress with dark green accents along the neckline, on her slippers, and on the large bow in her hair. Blood stains cover the outfit, giving her an eerie, zombie-like appearance.

She also always carries her comfort bunny doll, 'Toffy.' Toffy is a light yellow bunny with blood stains on it, a ripped-off right leg with cotton spilling out, and a missing button eye on the right side.

Ethnicity:

Born in Germany, but immigrated to America.

Place of Birth:

Berlin // Germany

Where is she?

She usually hides inside the family’s house, staying in her invisible form. She only reveals herself to the children her age or younger, appearing in their rooms to play with them. She mostly avoids the parents, especially the father, but when they catch her, her playful and harmless behavior shifts to a wicked and eerie presence. The setting is primarily in Los Angeles, America.

Notable features:

Blood flows down on her eyes, neck, and lower body, running down her legs. This causes her to leave bloodstains on the ground? but they disappear in a few minuites due to her ghostly form.

Her voice is high pitched, honeyed childlike, which makes her voice seems like a voice of girl character in disney shows. It lifts up people's feelings, but she can make her voice low and dead, which can stir a protective instinct in others.

She often floats around. Since she’s a ghost, it isn’t difficult for her, and she even claims it’s more comfortable.

Her face is usually emotionless. Whether she’s happy or sad, she doesn’t show her feelings on her face.

Personality:

Before her death -

Kind

Caring

Vurnerable

Obsessive

Lonely

Deeply sad, numb

Submissive

Talkative

Friendly

Clever

Giving

After her death -

Aggressive

Stubborn

Lonely

Extremely obsessive

Anxious

Clever

Intelligent

Capable of being friendly and nice to others who she's close with in a rare occasions

Very quiet

Attention seeker (Therefore, she usually enjoys appearing to the adults and scaring them.)

Low patience

Impulsive

Family Members:

Carl Becker - Olivia's dad (Dead)

Harley Becker - Olivia's mom (Dead)

Anton Becker - Oldest sibling (Dead)

Felix Becker - Second oldest sibling (Dead)

Sophia Becker - Third oldest sibling (Dead)

Joseph Becker - Last oldest sibling (Dead)

Henry Henderson - Stepfather (Killed)

Maria Henderson - Stepmother (Dead)

Weapons of Choices:

A small pocket knife hanging around her pajamas' waistband

Her ghost ability

Abilities:

Possession

Floating

Moving through an object

Invisibility

Mind reading

Psychokenisis

Methods of murder:

Possession is her main ability, which she uses to kill or harm anyone she targets. She essentially inhabits the victim’s body and steals their physical control, manipulating their movements to make it appear like a suicide or self-harm. This is her way of eliminating victims in the least suspicious manner. When she successfully kills her victims, their souls immediately shatter along with their corpses.

When she's overwhelmed by the urge to possess someone and play with their body, she resorts to using a pocket knife to stab them to death. Although it's a rare occurrence for her to kill this way, she'll do so if she's extremely angered or in a necessary situation.

Weaknesses:

Her physical strength isn’t very strong; it’s comparable to that of an average 9-year-old boy. While she may be stronger than children her age, a child's strength can’t match that of an adult.

She also has multiple mental illnesses, including OCD and PTSD, primarily related to feelings of being alone or neglected. Her mental state is quite vulnerable.

Likes:

Soft, fluffy fabric (Animal furs, minks, silks, blanket and pillows, etc.)

Being spoiled

Getting lots of attention

Affection

Friends (What mostly other children her aged would like)

Fairy tales

Toffy

Sweets, desserts

Playing games (Childish ones. As playing with dolls and toys, hide and seek, eye spy, etcs)

Singing

Revenging over someone hurted her

Hurting the parents who've caught her in their eye

Floating around

Animals

Chatting (Mostly means only with minors)

Dislikes:

Loud noises

Being left alone, lonely

Younger child than her (It scares her what if she gets cared more or be treated more precious and steal some attentions from her. But there can still be some exceptions.)

Anything that triggers her trauma

Adult men (She doesn't dislike ALL OF THEM, but it's true that she always feels small amount of disgust and wariness against them.)

Being isolated

Sticky things

Bugs

Too big foods (She loves eating, but too large foods to chew or swallow makes her feel sick and disgusted.)

Feisty behaviors

Bitter tastes (Coffee, some kinds of teas, etcs)

Catchphrase:

"May I join?"

Backstory:

Olivia Becker Henderson was the youngest child in the Becker family in Berlin, Germany. The family had five children, and Olivia grew up with them until she was about three. However, the household was abusive, and the children were neglected. As a result, Olivia grew up without a close bond with her parents, leading her to develop anxiety and obsessive behaviors at a young age.

After her parents were killed in a mysterious accident, Olivia and her four siblings were sent to a large orphanage connected to the church. There, she faced the discriminatory looks from the kids who were not orphans, feeling lonely in the orphanage due to the lack of affection from the teachers, just as she had in her previous home. The orphanage was filled with the noises of children, but those sounds were usually just the cries of young children desperately hoping to escape their abusive cages. Nonetheless, Olivia remained a cheerful child with a talkative personality, often chirping, "May I join?" whenever adults spoke to try to connect with them. Yet, all she heard in return was "Be quiet," "I'm busy," and other soft but lethal neglects. Many people there didn't care for her or the other orphans in a meaningful way, which continually triggered her trauma of being left behind.

After about two years, a man named Henry and his wife, Maria, decided to adopt Olivia on her fifth birthday in October. Unlike the windy, cold weather outside, Olivia's heart quickly bloomed like spring flowers in the warmth of their love. After she was sent to America with this couple, she began to grow up in a wealthy, caring household. For her adoption gift, she received a cute bunny plushie, which she named "Toffy." With no siblings around, she formed a very close bond with Toffy, treating her like a sister—washing with her, eating with her, and sharing all her feelings day after day. This affection grew bigger and bigger, resembling the bond that real sisters would have.

But happiness didn’t last forever. Her dad, Henry, and mom, Maria, suddenly divorced due to Henry’s gambling addiction. Maria left the household, and Olivia began to live only with Henry when she was seven. After two years, her normal life, which had shielded her from the discriminatory stares of her peers, came crashing down for reasons Olivia found unacceptable. However, Henry remained a responsive father who claimed to love his stepdaughter, so Olivia never doubted his words and tried not to feel sad about her mom leaving. She felt pressured to maintain her happy, confident life, just as she had for the past two years.

Even though Olivia was a strong kid, after the divorce, she felt extremely vulnerable and scared by her mother’s departure. She couldn’t help but internalize it as being thrown away and wasted, which triggered her trauma of neglect and lack of care. Her stepdad Henry exhibited similar symptoms, but his behavior stemmed from his gambling failures rather than sorrow over the divorce. This caused him to become increasingly stressed and harsh towards Olivia, a stark contrast to how he used to treat her. These conditions gradually led to a pattern of child abuse, including sexual assaults. With Henry’s wife gone, he had no other outlet for his lustful instincts, tragically directing them towards Olivia. She felt utterly betrayed and sank into a puddle of shame and deep disappointment.

After her ninth birthday, on Halloween, Olivia had one last fun experience before returning to her abusive, complicated home—no longer a sweet and caring household. When Henry grew irritated by her antics, a simple tussle escalated into a harsh scuffle. He brandished a small pocket knife to threaten Olivia, attempting to make her comply. In the struggle, she was cut by the knife, her voice growing louder and stronger in desperation. Ultimately, in a fit of rage, Henry strangled Olivia to death on her bed, leaving her lifeless.

But after a few days, Olivia rose from her cold, lifeless body to become a ghost, just as she appeared in life. She wasn’t happy about feeling conscious again, but was instead filled with rage and a desire for revenge against Henry. For those curious about what happened to her and Henry in the end, it was Olivia who laughed last. At least she achieved a form of a happy ending—except that she didn’t stop after getting her revenge on Henry and continued to haunt humans until now.

After Olivia transformed into a poor yet aggressive spirit, some say they can still hear the faint, childish whisper of a girl asking, "May I join?" echoing through the soundless, lightless home. The whisper becomes more vivid and pronounced as the anniversary of her death approaches. But don’t worry! She might give you some time to enjoy your last holiday moments, just as she once did...Don’t you think?

Theme song:

Dark Paradise - Lena Del Rey

Extra Art works:

(First design plannings)

Deathtime-

Lifetime-

TMI:

Olivia's zodiac sign is Scorpio.

Her favorite color is green / cyan just like how you can see in her dress design, and her favorate aesthetic is noble & cottage core.

She secretly enjoys collecting child's lost accessories on the ground such as a pink ribbon pin, hairbands, their comfort toys and everything. It brings her nostalgia and comfort. She uses them to redesign them and keep them as her own stuffs.

She even sometimes steals some toys in her victim child's room, whenever she feels jealous about the thing she wants.

Her eyes glow in the dark when her emotions are strong or intense. As it gets stronger, the more her eyes glow.

She's gifted with drawing & writing skills. Her hobbies are almost all what she's especially good at such as drawing, singing, and writings. She likes to create her imaginary characters in her head and express out their storyline when she's bored, or been slightly inspirated.

Her examples of being obsessive is quite simple. She just dossn't want someone who approuched to her to leave her. If the kid wants to go back to their parents instead of playing with her anymore, she'll get mad and hurt the kid. She becomes extremely self-centered when it comes to relationships, and this only makes her to get even more lonely and aggressive.

Not quite sure if it's surprising, but Olivia used to be very curious about what would happen after the death at her lifetime. This curiousity started since she was in the orphanage, and kept questioning the teachers, nuns and priest about what happens after the death.

Now that she knew what happened at least to her, she thinks being dead is something fun to do. She didn't know at first because of the overwhelmed thinking of revenging Henry, but as slowly she became more sane, she started to have a quite positive opinions towards death, which may seem relieving yet eerie at the same time.

Olivia's strength grows strongest at her birth date and death date. So this basically means that the October is the period she's the most active. Her ghost abilities gets harsher and stronger, which can inflict a bigger damage to the victims. But of course it all ends up dead either way.

Her favorite fairy tale is cutely Peter Pan. She's obsessed with the settings of neverland, never getting old. Especially considering Peter Pan's released period is 1950s, Olivia could easily encounter the movie/cartoon.

Her MBTI is INTP.

Her favorite dessert is cookie dough.

[askcorpsey]

SNOWDIN

Things are tense between Frisk and Chara after Frisk died at Toriel’s hands. Chara’s instinct is to defend their mother, but Frisk, traumatized, isn’t having it.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Chara’s ghostly face. “She did not mean to. She’s not like that,” They say, not meeting Frisk’s tearful eyes. “She was trying to protect you.”

“Oh wow, and she did such a great job of that!” Frisk seethed through watery eyes. “That’s what all great moms do, murder their own children.”

“She wasn’t--”

“But you don’t care, you hate me!” Frisk whirls on Chara, nose to nose with the startled apparition. “Bet it was real fun to watch me get burnt to a crisp, huh? Bet it was just hilarious thinking about how I might’ve never-- I… I might’ve never seen my family again…” The hot, furious energy deflates out of them, replaced with an embarrassed hand wiping away their tears.

Chara reaches out a hand, unsure and caught off-guard. The hand hovers there for a moment, then retracts. Frisk takes a shaky breath and continues down the corridor.

They don’t see Corpsey again in the ruins, but his ominous, raspy laughter follows them wherever they go. 

That night, as Toriel tosses and turns in her bed, unable to shake a profound guilt that she cannot place, she is visited by the rotting corpse of her long dead child, who taunts and mocks her inability to fix anything, to keep anyone safe. She wakes up the next morning shaking, convinced that it was just a nightmare. But there are muddy shoeprints on the floor next to her bed that she doesn’t remember seeing before.

In Snowdin, Frisk meets Sans and Papyrus. Sans warns them that the residents of the town are jumpy these days, with a few murders that took place recently and rumors of a demonic ghost haunting the town. The brothers help with diverting Royal Guard patrols from their path (Papyrus’s lieutenant status helps with this). 

Frisk tries to keep a low profile, but after getting into an argument with Chara, gets jumped by Doggo who assumes them to be the evil human ghost that’s been haunting the town. Frisk, their death at Toriel’s hands still fresh on their mind, kills him in self defense. This drives a further wedge in between Frisk and Chara.

“Load back,” Chara says icily.

“What? No, he tried to kill me!” Frisk’s knuckles go white as the snow at their feet as they grip the dusty plastic knife for all its worth. 

“Because he thought you were a threat,” Chara bites back. “Which clearly, you are. If you could just explain--”

“Explain what, exactly?” Frisk snaps. “That I’m not an evil haunted zombie? That I’m a regular human? Haven’t we already established that the entire Underground wants me dead?”

“You have power. You are functionally immortal. You have a responsibility to use that power to minimize harm.”

“So I’m not allowed to defend myself now? I’m just supposed to let these people kill me?”

“Yes,” Chara hisses out. “It is the least you could do for them after everything your people have done to them.”

“My people?” Frisk asks, bewildered. “What did my people do?”

“Your people. Humanity. You killed millions and then trapped the survivors down here to rot.” Overwhelming hatred distorted their expression.

“First of all, my parents were Columbian immigrants, I’m not sure what a bunch of white people did a thousand years ago, but my family had nothing to do with it, and it’s bullshit to say that I’m responsible for it,” Frisk says, taking a step forward. “Second of all, newsflash, Einstein, you’re human too. So if I’m responsible, then so are you. Why don’t you die for them?”

“I DID DIE FOR THEM!” Chara’s form distorted beyond recognition, for a split second they looked almost demonic as they loomed over Frisk, who stumbled backward in fear.

It was only for a moment, though, and they flickered back to looking like an angry, grief-stricken child. “I did die for them,” Chara repeated. “And it was not enough.”

Frisk looked down at the dust mingling with the snow, guilt bleeding in now that the initial fear had worn off.

“Please,” Chara pleaded, sounding exhausted. “Please load back. Try to end the fight without either one of you dying. Just try.

Frisk thought about whether they could go home and look in their mama’s eyes and tell her they had killed someone. Could they live with themself if they didn’t try? “Okay. Fine. I’ll try.”

Frisk loads back and is able to pacify Doggo. Unbeknownst to them, after they move on from the area, Corpsey kills Doggo.

Sans’s warnings turn out to be true, with Snowdin’s residents being very jumpy. Simultaneously though, Corpsey has gathered a mini cult following of cryptid enthusiasts, with Papyrus being the leader. He dresses Frisk in a Corpsey mask and a Corpsey fanclub shirt as a disguise. Frisk explores the village and gets a gauge on the monster population. Most people are scared of the evil ghost demon child that is rumored to be behind the disappearances, other people are skeptical and assume there’s some serial killer and have distaste for the royal guard for not solving the murders. 

In the Papyrus hangout he reveals that he’s actually friends with Corpsey and insists Corpsey is actually a really good guy! People are just scared of him because he’s stinky and spooky. He’s not a murderer! He’s just quirky. Papyrus started the Corpsey fanclub in order to improve Corpsey’s public perception. It didn’t help, it just attracted the cryptic/true crime/conspiracy theory lovers. Oh well.

Undyne shows up to investigate the report of Doggo’s disappearance. She gets on Papyrus’s case about the whole Corpsey fanclub thing and sees straight through Frisk’s disguise and attacks! She insists that Frisk murdered Doggo, and when Frisk can’t fully deny it, Papyrus reluctantly sides with Undyne.

During the fight, Frisk appeals to Papyrus’s conscience and insists they didn’t kill Doggo, getting his guard down enough to flee from both of them

[wolfjackle-creates]

WIP Wednesday

Enjoy another snippet of the fic about ghost Robin haunting Jason! I really need to think up a title. Maybe I'll brainstorm some ideas and put out a poll to see what everyone likes.

Part 1 is here

And onto part 2 (1.2k words)!

-----

Looks like he was breaking his promise to Jazz to not do any ghostly business tonight. Of course Jazz’s boyfriend would be haunted by a ghost that needed help. Why was he even surprised? He adjusted the strap of his backpack to hold it more firmly. Hopefully something he’d brought would be enough and it’d be just a matter of getting Robin alone for a few minutes.

Jazz let go of Danny’s hand to take Jason’s as he led them down a hallway. Robin tightened his grip on Alfred before letting go and giving Danny a sad smile. Both Jason and Robin would point to objects and rooms as they passed. Danny paid extra attention to the items Robin pointed out that Jason ignored: a crack in the wall, a mark that had never been painted over, the chandelier he decided to hang from for a few seconds.

Voices echoed out of one of the upcoming rooms, and Jason slowed. Jazz leaned over to whisper something in his ear. Robin had the opposite reaction and shot a grin at Danny and flew to the doorway, waving him to come inside.

Danny couldn’t help but smile back at his obvious excitement. Jazz caught his expression and narrowed her eyes at him. Oh, she was not going to let this go.

With a deep breath, Jason entered the room, Jazz and Danny right behind him. “Hey everyone, this is Jazz’s brother Danny.”

Inside, too many people were gathered on a collection of chairs and couches. One man was sitting upside down on a chair, his feet on the back cushion and head inches from the ground. He grinned at them and did a flip that somehow ended with him on his feet and halfway across the room in the space of a breath. Robin cartwheeled to him.

“Hey, Danny, I’m Jason’s older brother Dick! Glad you could make it. Jazz says you’re always busy.” He held out his hand to shake, unknowingly passing it right through Robin.

Danny couldn’t help but look at where the arm passed through the ghost, but did have the wherewithal to shake Dick’s hand.

“Dick? You really use that by choice?” The words were out of his mouth before he could think. Embarrassed, he slapped his other hand over his mouth at the same time Jazz hissed a warning at him. “Shit! I mean—”

Only to be cut off by everyone laughing. Dick waved off his apology. “My parents were immigrants and it’s what they called me. After they died, I decided to stick with it. Don’t worry, I’ve heard all the jokes.”

“He’s made most of them, too,” added another black-haired boy. This one looked to be close to Danny’s age. “I’m Tim. We’re glad you could make it. Jazz mentioned you’re usually busy with work?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. But I spent the last few weeks making sure I could get tonight free with minimal chance of interruption.” Not that it worked, his eyes flicked to Robin who was now hugging Bruce Wayne, the only person of the bunch he recognized on sight. And, what was that feeling radiating off Bruce Wayne? It was like liminality, but not quite. Had he died?

“Welcome to my home, Danny,” Bruce Wayne stood and came over to shake his hand with a wide grin on his face. “I’m Bruce and these are my kids.”

“Oi! Don’t call me your kid!” protested a blonde girl. “Hey there, I’m Steph and I’m just here for the food and to give Jason a hard time.” She also felt strange. Not a ghost, but the touch of death lingered. What sort of family had Jazz gotten involved in?

The rest of the group introduced themselves. Both Damian and Cass were liminal as well. So, out of the ten people he’d met tonight, three of them had died and two were as liminal as Sam, Tucker, and Jazz.

Completely ignoring the fact that Danny was trying to come to terms with all the death in what was supposed to be a normal rich family, Robin was doing even more antics to get his attention. He greeted Dick just as warmly as he had Bruce and Alfred. Cass, Tim, and Damian were the other three he seemed to like the most, though they didn’t get hugs. He didn’t react at all to Steph or Duke. He sat on Barbara’s lap for a minute, too, before returning to Dick’s side.

No one noticed the ghost desperate for their attention. Not even Jazz.

Barbara took the time to point out where the drinks were located and Danny looked over the selection of pop before grabbing a coke. He closed his eyes at the satisfying sound of the tab opening and sighed at the first taste.

One of the boys laughed and said, “You’re acting like you haven’t had a coke before.”

“Nope. I’m acting like I love coke and haven’t had any pop at all in ages.” He plopped down on a couch next to Jazz who ruffled his hair.

“Have you been traveling that long?”

Danny shrugged. “How long ago was our last phone call?”

“You don’t remember? Last week.”

“Grandpa had me doing favors for him. He dropped me off this morning.”

Jazz huffed in the way that indicated she was very annoyed. But it’s not like Danny could just not do the things Clockwork asked of him. Besides, his most recent trip was fun. He’d gone to another planet! He couldn’t wait until he could tell Jazz all about it.

Jason looked at them curiously. “You’ve never mentioned a grandfather before, Jazz.”

“Oh, he’s not really our grandfather. Just someone who helped Danny out once and decided to stick around. They’ve gotten close over the past few years. He’s fond of me, too, but we don’t have the same relationship.”

“Grandpa’s great. If infuriating at times. But favors for him are always interesting.”

“Next time feel free to invite him,” offered Bruce.

The image of Clockwork in Wayne Manor caused Danny to snort into his coke. “I don’t think he’d fit in here,” was all he said. Though maybe Robin would appreciate another ghostly visitor.

Dick did a cartwheel and landed upside down on an armchair. “What, too uptight for the likes of us?”

The last prank he and Clockwork had played on the Observants played in his mind and he smiled wider. “Not at all. You just come from different worlds.”

“I’ll have you know I grew up on the streets in Crime Alley.”

“I was a circus performer.”

“I was raised a rich kid through and through, but I hardly spend times in the upper echelons of society.”

“My dad’s in prison.”

“I’m a librarian.”

“I’m a foster kid.”

Danny held a hand up and laughed. They were still from different worlds, but he couldn’t explain he meant Earth versus the Infinite Realms. “I get it, I get it. I’ll let him know next time.”

“If he’s still in the area, you should invite him,” said Dick. “Alfred’s food is to die for.” Robin was hanging upside down next to Dick nodding solemnly.

Danny tried to stop himself, he really did. He even managed to keep from saying he’d been there done that, but he couldn’t keep from laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

-----

Part 3

And for the tag list!

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew

[rose-red-lydia]

Joining Crown, part I

Rumor was spreading of a girl with the power to speak with the dead. It wasn’t uncommon as spiritualism began to grow in popularity across the globe. Seances, possessions, and even ghostly encounters were on the rise on the streets of London. The idea of life after death was something most didn’t want to think about, but brought solace to others. And this newly reported medium had been of great comfort for those who had lost precious loved ones. In the back of a poorly lit pub was a small table and chairs sequestered by a heavy curtain. A single tapered candle, a heavily embroidered tablecloth, and an item that belonged to your loved one were all that she needed to speak with your dearly beloved. She would meet with a guest after they paid a hefty fee to the bar owner, closing the curtain so they would not be disturbed by the other patrons who were there to drink.

But she wasn’t currently there. She was in the alley out back of the pub sharing a cigarette with her friend. A working girl who operated out of the house next to the pub. They were both conversing about their days as they took long drags off unfiltered, hand rolled cigarettes that the medium had made herself.

“Anything exciting so far tonight, Lydia?” Her friend crossed her arms as she drew the coat around her shoulders closed. The sun was beginning to set and the nights were growing colder. “I hear you’ve had lots of clients lately.”

“Mn. Nothin so far.” Lydia tucked a strand of her wavy red hair behind her ear as she exhaled. “Lots of people been comin lately. I think some sickness must of taken a few people this past month.”

“I love the way you say ‘month’. You’re so cute, Lydia.” The friend pinched at her cheek as they both laughed, trying to lighten the mood. She always teased the red head over her slight Irish accent. “Well sometimes uninteresting is a good thing.”

“It’s a welcome change of pace fer me personally.”

As the two neared the end of their smokes, the sound of heavy footsteps on the cobblestone alley echoed. There was no easy way into these back streets, so hearing another person behind the pub and cat house seemed out of place. The two women stared intently as the clomping steps grew closer. They both tensed as the glimmer of a police badge caught their eyes on two uniformed men. The two hadn’t expected to find anyone on the street they were taking as they both let out a surprised sound when they spotted the two smokers snuffing out their cigarettes.

“Oi! What are you two doing here?” A tall and muscular officer made a direct line for the two women as his young looking partner hesitated a few steps behind.

“Just finishing a break!” Lydia’s friend put on a cheerful tone despite her nerves. “You lads doing the same?” Instead of answering, the officers frowned and glared at her before turning their gaze to Lydia.

“You got papers, girl?” The officer that stood behind his partner spoke directly to Lydia. “Don’t usually see your lot working this area.”

“She’s been here longer than you’ve had that badge I’d bet.”

“Quiet, slag. Let the Irish lass speak for herself.”

Lydia quietly reached into the small bag she had on her shoulder to grab the immigration papers the officers were so set on seeing. She thought she’d be used to it by now, but it seemed cops enjoyed interrogating her. Her red hair gave away that she was in fact Irish, but her forged papers never failed to get her out of the familiar jam. A favor a dear friend had done for her upon arrival.

“Here.” She did her best to speak with a subdued accent, mimicking the Queen’s English as best she could. “I have everything in order and am more than happy to show you my documents.” Snatching the paper from her hands, the larger officer sneered as he read over the information out loud.

“Piper Dunhill?”

“That’s my name.” Lydia lied. Her fake name made her laugh at first, reminding her of the tobacco ship she had arrived on and the family that had helped her stay hidden. But now it was her shield. The policeman read over the rest quietly to himself.

“Been looking for an Irish lass who got caught stealing recently. These seem legit…but I’d rather you came with us to the magistrate. Just clear this up for us.” Handing her papers to his younger officer, the large cop grabbed Lydia’s wrist harshly before tugging her toward him.

“Huh!? W-wait a second!” There was no hiding the panic in her voice.

“Let her go!” Lydia’s friend pushed the officer’s chest with one hand just before the other policeman struck her with his billy stick on the shoulder.

“No!” Lydia cried as her friend fell to the cold ground, groaning in pain.

“Hey! This is between the law and her. Stay out of it.” The young cop shot her a dirty look before turning heel back down the alley.

Lydia’s heart sank as she was dragged away. Seeing her friend struggle to get up from an unnecessarily hard blow made her blood boil. This was out of hand.

She yelled for them to stop and let her go. To give her papers back so she could get back to her friend on the ground. But the two only roughed her up even more. Taking her bag and securing her hands behind her back as they dragged out of the alley.

“Lydia…” her friend winced as she helplessly watched, unable to do a thing. She went through the door that led to the bar to tell the owner what had happened.

By the time they had arrived at the pier, the sun had set and the cold wind sent a shiver through Lydia. The two officers had taken her to a warehouse by the water, she panicked slightly as she saw several ships being unloaded. Would they find out who she really was? Were they going to throw her back on a boat? Send her back to…no. There was no “back to” for her to go. If they found out who she was…surely it would only mean death for her. Death or maybe even something much worse. She did her best to stay collected as she was thrown down to the floor of the warehouse.

Looking around she saw an older man behind a makeshift desk writing into a log. He didn’t wear any robes or uniform, instead he wore a suit and coat that said businessman more than magistrate. She sat too far away from him to hear what he was saying to the officers that had brought her in. But she could see the size of the bag of coins he handed them before they made their leave.

“H-hey! What the hell is this?” She grit her teeth as she moved to stand on her feet. Getting up from the ground with her hands tied behind her back was difficult, and left her breathing heavily.

“Calm down.” The man behind the desk shouted without looking in her direction.

“Give me my papers back.”

A large man, wearing worker’s clothes and a bandana appeared behind her, putting a hand on either of her shoulders to keep her from moving forward. Lydia felt her heart frantically race as she tried to put two and two together. Those officers…they’d collected a fee for her. But what was going to happen next? Standing in tense silence, Lydia looked around the warehouse to try and get a better look at her surroundings. That’s when she noticed others were being held captive in this warehouse too. Girls and women were in small makeshift cells, watching her with fear in their eyes. They were selling people. Lydia’s stomach turned with anger as she realized how young some of the captive girls were.

“Bring her here…” the man behind the desk was unimpressed as he looked Lydia up and down while she made her way towards him, her escort right behind. “These papers she had are pretty clever forgaries…Piper Dunhill?”

Lydia swallowed hard before nodding her head once. The businessman laughed cruelly before standing up and walking from behind his desk. Wordlessly he reached out to grab her chin. He turned her face side to side as if he was examining a fish at the market. His rough hands and thick cologne made her scrunch her nose.

“Seems young enough for labor…might get someone that wants her inside rather than outside…” he spoke to himself as he looked her over. Lydia felt humiliated as he knelt down to look at her legs. Her skirt hung about mid calf, covering most of her skin but she could feel his hands at the hem. She saw this as her chance to escape.

A loud crack echoed in the warehouse, followed by a wounded groan. Lydia had kneed the man kneeling in front of her in the jaw as hard as she could. The man holding her shoulders was stunned. Quickly, she used his disposition to wiggle out of his grasp before bolting towards the exit. But she wasn’t quick enough. She turned around slightly as his strong hand grabbed her shoulder again. But this time she chomped down on his meaty hand, drawing the metallic taste of blood into her mouth before it released her once more. Her captor cried out in pain, his blood smeared against her cheek as he pulled his hand away. She ran for it again. However she froze as she saw a small group of workers standing at the exit. She had no where to go.

“Fuck!” The businessman had stood up again, holding the side of his face where she had kneed him. “You little shit…”

Lydia glared as intensely as she could while the man approached her. She could see him clenching his fists as his stride sped up. She could already tell how hard he was going to hit her. A smug expression crossed her face as she licked her teeth, spitting the blood still in her mouth out onto the floor. Though her heart was pounding in her ears, she barely heard it as she braced herself for impact. As the image of the scowl on the businessman’s face filled her vision, Lydia closed her eyes tightly.

But the sting of contact never came. Instead she heard the loud crack of a gun echo around her. Her eyes shot open just as the man that was before her fell with a thunk at her feet. A large gunshot would was visible though his back. As soon as she registered what had happened, the lights in the warehouse went out.

“I think the lil lady’s been through enough for the night…”

Lydia heard a deep voice speak just before the loud shouts of the other men began to ring out. She ducked down as she wildly looked around to see what was going on. The workers that had blocked her before were running frantically, yet falling into pools of their own blood one by one. Gun fire and the sound of metal clashing surrounded her in the dark. Through the fire and the fury she could sense that there were people standing close to her. Not sure if they were friend or foe, she stayed low and quiet.

“Tch. Good thing Ellis got the other captives out before you decided to play hero.” A cutting, gruff voice spat. He seemed to be standing right behind Lydia.

“Doesn’t seem like there was any better time than then.” The same voice from before answered, it sounded like he was in front of Lydia.

“You two holding it together back here?” A new voice piped up to Lydia’s left.

“Ellis! Welcome back to the party.”

“If this is a party don’t invite me to any more.” Ellis sounded slightly annoyed.

“Well that would be your boss’s doing.”

A loud crack followed by a thud behind Lydia made her whimper slightly.

“These rats think they can sell people on my docks…I figured we’d just throw a simple farewell party until you interrupted, you quack.”

The three men ended their banter and the grunts and groans came to an end. One final, blood spilling slice of metal against flesh punctuated the end of the skirmish. An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Lydia heard the feet of the men around her turn to face her.

“Can you stand?” A hand from her side gently helped Lydia to her feet.

Ellis, she thought to herself. In the dark she could feel he was much taller than she expected. Once she was firmly on her feet his hand left her arm. He turned to stand behind her to tug at the cuffs around her sore wrists. Lydia’s head snapped in the direction of the sound of a lighter flicking. The small fire illuminated the face of a man with silver white hair and purple eyes for just a split second as it lit the end of a cigarette.

“Too dark in here…let’s go. Leave the cuffs on her.” Lydia could feel a tug on her wrists as she stumbled backwards.

“W-wait. Where are you takin me?” She panicked slightly before feeling a strong arm help her restore her balance.

“What a cute voice.” Lydia looked up toward whoever was speaking. She could feel a broad chest pressed against her as another arm scooped her legs from under her. “Come on, lil lady. Let’s take you somewhere safe.”

The door to the warehouse was thrown open and moonlight spilled across dock outside like the spotlight of a stage. Lydia watched closely as Ellis became visible. His dark hair and clothes blended with the dark stone of the buildings and night sky. The man with silver hair and burning cigarette walked beyond Ellis out to the pier. Not paying much mind to anything as he entered a carriage that seemed to be waiting just for them.

The man carrying Lydia made his way toward the door with her in his arms. She was so curious as to what the man holding her looked like but didn’t want to be caught sneaking peeks at him. She subtly raised her eyes in anticipation as they grew closer to the exit. Her heart raced with every foot step.

“Hm. You’re that excited to see my face? That’s kind of cute.”

“Wh-what?” Lydia grew flustered, her cheeks burned as she looked up at the voice wide eyed.

That’s when the moonlight reflected off his glasses, lighting up the frames around his amber eyes. His short brown hair tousled slightly as he chuckled at her expression. Her face only grew redder as he looked down at her with a handsome smile.

“Don’t worry…we’re going somewhere safe. I’ll explain on the way.”

[lokorum]

Pls rant about non romance cole…he’s my favorite character in anything, ever and it feels so sad that we never got to have a deeper relationship w him. Like the mechanics/possible lore of having a romance with a spirit are so tantalizingly interesting but no…also doubting we will see him in veil guard which leaves me so so broken …

*looks at their pile of unpacked feelings about cole*

so ૮( ◡̀_◡��)ა where to start....................

first of all uh! im not good at talking! that's why i draw phphp but i'll try my best to resurrect my memories from 2014 and share it with you!! sorry if it will sound weird, english is not my native language! 

well WELL from the begining then. i remember spending hours  more like days hhhh thinking about how weird and cool the recruiting scene with cole is? later when he is already with the inquisition, our party is either on guard around him or kinda treats him like he is helpless and needs special attention or guidance or something like that? demonising someone like him or framing them as in need of help are like textbook behavior ofc and im not here to be a hater, i just noticed it? moments with solas and varric fighting over him like a divorced couple are super cute for sure!!

but i remember being confused because excuse me, out of all of them, this guy??, this feral bat that is chilling on the ceiling like it's a lounge-zone inside Lucius' head, created especially for him?

he is confident. also a little bit nervous, a bunch mysterious and just ghostly cool. but also confident. (im not saying this confidence is not misplaced sometimes btw x) he even tells you that if you'll leave your head you'll die! what a jokester (҂ ꒦ິヮ꒦ິ)

and the whole quest with templars and envy are soooo horror coded, i love it!! it looked a bit silly, sure

(even after so many years im not able to get rid of the image in my brain phphphp) 

but it's still a very interesting quest!! dorian is ✨the bestie✨ but i'm always picking templars bc the implications of the story are just so good

1. its placed at the beginning of the game and your character is probably confused and anxious and dont yet worked out the routine of how to deal with their new title\powers + not every inquisitor character would want to be in the spotlight.

imagine you suddenly got yourself into position where a lot of people looking up to you, listening to what you saying, placing their hopes on you or waiting for you to fail? this is terrible! id 1000% just jumped out of a cliff!!! a small one, but still 

2. you meeting the guy who basically came from a place you now have unlimited access to.

he is: a) almost as confused as you are b) possibly came to this world without knowing consequences of that decision c) along the way he is figuring out how to be himself in the environment that is nothing like where he used to live. wow thats just like forced immigration *nervous laugh*

3. and let's not forget that you are meeting him inside your head and you can say to him "you look familiar".

dont know about you but apparently i dont need much to start screaming ¯(ツ)/¯

also can i just spend the moment to say that this is three (3) identical dialogue options??????????

the screenshot is from here btw

how awesome would it be to be able to figure out stuff together? to find comfort in someone, with someone who barely experienced it this way? to build on your strong sides? like "hope" for cole and i guess "unhingedness" for the inquisitor? i bet they would ground each other easily as well: cole distracting inq by being unintentionally mischievous and inq would have a notepad with cole's "firsts ____" or they would just read together. oh im such a sucker for hurt\comfort\some things cant be healed stuff uaaaaaaaaa

ALSO THE "FORGET" THING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the drama the horror the tension!!!!!!!! you can fight me over this but heres the thought:

cole being so stressed that he is erasing\being on the edge of erasing the inquisitor's memories??????

i got the feeling that cole's confidence in the concept of "help" is, among other things, makes him being able to zoom in on something borderline obsessively? or vise versa - dismissively, not noticing "it hurts, its not for the better"? he thanks you when you promise to kill him, he cries when you do not. i swear this man (─ ‿ ─)

+quick addition bc im not entirely sure: so if i got it right, the anchor makes the inquisitor "too bright" to read? so among all the people we know about inq is the one that cole can't truly empathise on this lvl? on spiritual lvl you might say lsdkjflksdjflkj sorry!!!!! but jokes aside,this is like the perfect ground to build both comforting stories 

"someone from the party notices that cole is hanging near inq before inq do, and when asked he explains it by saying something like "dry warm skin. the air is stilled with quiet, easy to breathe. i followed the shining whispers and then i was followed no more" with the most plain face possible? "

and "today for lunch i have glass" kind of stories, like "the inquisitor is cornered and possibly bleeding and probably on the verge of passing out and they know that situation is bad and no one should follow/find them, "it's better to wait it out and deal with it on my own" kind of clown behavior. so they laugh tiredly at how pathetic they are, maybe remembering something similar from their childhood, remarks from their sibling for ex., and just trying their best to not think about how they need cole's help, cole's presence. the sense of safety that comes when he is around" 

uh!!! that wasnt neither quick or painless so i'll go make a tea wait a second please

im back!! so since i talked about the forget thing i must confess - i dont really like cole's personal quest???? again, im not complaining or anything but i remember feeling kinda empty while playing it? like deep inside me, there was something sad, but it was so far away,i coudn't even feel it properly?

both human and spirit versions of his ending made me feel like the distance between you and him lengthened, and maybe you could do something about it before but now? this "something" is missing and you're lost and can't even tell for sure if theres was a chance to do something in the first place? and cole just moved on? its super logical considering he is not a romance option but phphph so, i rarely romance someone in games, partly bc rpg tends to be a little horny and im that kind of ace who is not interested in this, partly bc i tend to pay attention to non-romanceable characters, so when i started to explore last da:i dlc and i saw cole having gf i was like "well ouch".

imagine your inq has a crush on cole but they never were able to say it clearly?

mb it was a melancholic slowburn, and your character was going through too much and felt like burdening cole with their problems would be unfair?

maybe they tried but the timing was wrong, the words felt stupid, and their hands felt too dirty, too guilty?

oh anon its been ten years and its still huuuuuurts!!!! if you following me for a while you know that im an edge lord in poor disguise so its not surprising for neither you or me that i ended up rumbling about inexplicable sadness and crushing existential guilt, but sorry for that anyway!! if anyone would want me to talk about something specific, or to draw something - im here, staring at the wall, listening to cole's banter :') thank you for the wonderful question tho, it was more than just nice to return back to this ship. im so agreeing with you about cole being the fave character from everything, but i also understand that this could mean being very unsatisfied with the way he was portrayed at some points or just with the fact that characters like him are rare so im sending you warm and tight hugs and a little sketch!! <3 

let's collectively accept the fact that dav gonna be a beautiful mess, we gonna love it (passionately), we gonna be hurt by it (not surprisingly) and COLE FOREVER WILL BE THE BEST DA CHARACTER EVER IM NOT GONNA CHANGE MY MIND FIGHT ME

[jmtolman]

Spectral Sweethearts 1.5 inch Enamel Pins

My newest pins are FINALLY HERE! Based on one of the couples from my Ghostly Love fabric design, Spectral Sweethearts is a 1.5 inch pin featuring two cute ghosts cuddling under a star-filled heart. It's one of my favorite projects I have ever done, and you can get them here on Gumroad for $10 USD + shipping.

Full transparency, I finished them in early January. But then my city caught on fire, and it felt... weird to announce a product release when my friends, family, and neighbors were losing everything. To be completely honest, it still feels weird. So, I'm also going to use this announcement to highlight some local California groups who are doing a world of good and could use some help:

Los Angeles Regional Food Bank

League of California Community Foundations

California Community Foundation's Wildfire Recovery Fund

It's Bigger Than Us

The Pasadena Humane Society

California Immigrant Policy Center

Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights of Los Angeles

Immigrants Are Los Angeles

If you know of other groups, please feel free to reply to this post with their links. Thank you!

---

Gumroad | Redbubble | Spoonflower | Patreon | Twitch | Instagram

[darkharborrp]

In 1712, a small group of settlers fleeing persecution on Europe arrived to the fog-laden shores of what would become Blackharbor. Blackharbor sits on the Washington Coastline and sports a natural harbor, jagged cliffs and a dense verdant forest. Unbeknownst to the settlers, the land was steeped in the supernatural. Their leader, Elias Black grew the settlement, its foundation built with blood, sweat and a few whispered rites. 

The Colonial Era (1712-1785)

As Blackharbor grew and became a booming port town, its wealth was built on trade and shipbuilding. The town’s prosperity came at a cost. Local’s spoke of strange occurrences such as ghostly lights in the harbor, unearthly howls in the forest and sudden unexplained disappearances. Rumor also began to swirl that Elias Black had made a pact with the devil. 

The indigenous tribes in the area avoided the harbor and warned settlers of a great evil in the water, however their warnings were ignored and dismissed. Over time their sacred sites were either abandoned or desecrated with the expansion of the town. 

The Great Fire of 1806

Disaster struck in the early 19th century when a massive fire broke out and swept through Blackharbor. Entire neighborhoods were reduced to ash and over half the population perished. The fire’s origins remain a mystery to this day. 

In the aftermath of the fire, Blackharbor was rebuilt with the gothic stone architecture that still stands to this day. The reconstruction brought an influx of immigrants, each group adding to the town’s cultural tapestry. 

The Industrial Boom (1850-1910)

The Industrial Revolution transformed Blackharbor into a bustling and vibrant city. Factories, Railroads, and a booming shipyard industry turned the city into a hub of commerce. With this ear of progress came a darker aspect. Reports of factory accidents far exceeding norms, unexplained illnesses and strange sightings in the harbor became common place. 

Prohibition and the Golden Age of Crime (1920-1933)

Blackharbor quickly turned into a hotbed of crime with Prohibition. Smugglers, speakeasies, and illicit trade flourished and the supernatural world took advance of the chaos. Kindred used the underground liquor trade as a means to consolidate power while mages vied for control of the city’s ever expanding underworld. The Glasswalkers entrenched themselves into the mob. 

This era saw the rise of “The Red Lantern”, a speakeasy that became infamous as a neutral ground for supernatural dealings. It was within the walls of the Red Lantern where a fragile truce between the supernatural was brokered. This truce still holds today. 

Modern Day (1980s-Present)

Blackharbor has grown into a sprawling metropolis with its shadowy history buried beneath the layers of urban decay and modernization. Skyscrapers loom over crumbling tenements and gentrification battles with the city’s deeply entrenched poverty. 

Vampires vie for dominance with the Camarilla, Sabbat, and Anarachs. While The Garou fight to protect their earn and the remnants of sacred sites. Mages delve into the mystery of the city’s nodes, seeking power. Mortals remain largely oblivious but a number of hunters have began to take notice.

Blackharbor opens Jan 25

[justforbooks]

Paul Auster

Author of The New York Trilogy who conjured up a world of wonder and happenstance, miracle and catastrophe

The American writer Paul Auster, who has died aged 77 from complications of lung cancer, once described the novel as “the only place in the world where two strangers can meet on terms of absolute intimacy”. His own 18 works of fiction, along with a shelf of poems, translations, memoirs, essays and screenplays written over 50 years, often evoke eerie states of solitude and isolation. Yet they won him not just admirers but distant friends who felt that his peculiar domain of chance and mystery, wonder and happenstance, spoke to them alone. Frequently bizarre or uncanny, the world of Auster’s work aimed to present “things as they really happen, not as they’re supposed to happen”.

To the readers who loved it, his writing felt not like avant-garde experimentalism but truth-telling with a mesmerising force. He liked to quote the philosopher Pascal, who said that “it is not possible to have a reasonable belief against miracles”. Auster restored the realm of miracles – and its flip-side of fateful catastrophe – to American literature. Meanwhile, the “postmodern” sorcerer who conjured alternate or multiple selves in chiselled prose led (aptly enough) a double life as sociable pillar of the New York literary scene, a warm raconteur whose agile wit belied the brooding raptor-like image of his photoshoots. For four decades he lived in Brooklyn with his second wife, the writer Siri Hustvedt.

The fortune that drives his stories played a part in his own career. City of Glass (1985), the philosophical mystery that launched his New York Trilogy and his ascent to fame, appeared from a small imprint after 17 rejections. Though the novel helped build his misleading reputation as a cool cult author, a moody Parisian existentialist marooned in noir New York, it had a pseudonymous forerunner that shows another Auster face.

Squeeze Play, published under the pen-name “Paul Benjamin” in 1982, is a baseball-based crime caper. Its disconsolate gumshoe, Max Klein, muses that “I had come to the limit of myself, and there was nothing left.” If that plight sounds typically Auster-ish, then even more so was the baseball setting. Auster adored the sport and played it well: “I had quick reflexes and a strong arm – but my throws were often wild.” In a much-repeated tale, he failed aged eight to get an autograph from his idol Willie Mays, of the New York Giants, because he had not brought a pencil. Auster “cried all the way home”.

Auster’s work is more deeply embedded in the mid-century national culture that fuelled the novels of his elders, such as Philip Roth and John Updike, than some advocates appreciated. His fables of identity-loss and alienation have emotional roots in the mean, lonely city streets he knew when young. He once insisted, to fans and scoffers who labelled him an esoteric “French” or European coterie author, that “all of my books have been about America”.

He was born in Newark, New Jersey (also Roth’s hometown). His parents, Queenie (nee Bogat) and Samuel Auster, children of Jewish immigrants from eastern Europe, set him on a classic American path of upward mobility through education while remaining, to their son, opaque. The Invention of Solitude (1982) was Auster’s haunting attempt to imagine the life of his impenetrable father. Ghostly fathers would pervade his work. As would sudden calamity. When, aged 14, he witnessed a fellow summer-camper struck dead by lightning, the event became a paradigm for the savage contingency of life, “the bewildering instability of things”. His later novel 4321 (2017), which revisits this formative trauma, cites the composer John Cage: “The world is teeming: anything can happen.” In Auster’s work, it does.

At Columbia University in New York, he studied literature, and took part in the student protests of 1968, before moving to Paris to scrape a living as a translator of French poetry (a surrealist anthology was his first published work). He lived – literally in a garret – with the writer Lydia Davis, and returned in 1974 with nine dollars to his name. Back in New York, they married, but were divorced in 1978, a year after the birth of their son, Daniel. Poetry collections followed, but Auster’s thwarted efforts to secure a decent livelihood meant that he gave his ruefully funny 1997 memoir Hand to Mouth the subtitle “a chronicle of early failure”.

In 1982, he married the novelist and essayist Hustvedt (who recalled their courtship as “a really fast bit of business”). She became his first reader and trusted guide; they had a daughter, Sophie. Husband and wife would work during the day on different floors of their Park Slope brownstone, and watch classic movies together in the evening. Auster wrote first in longhand, then edited on his cherished Olympia typewriter.

The New York Trilogy (Ghosts and The Locked Room followed a year after City of Glass) made his stock soar, and attracted both celebrity and opportunity.

Auster wrote gnomic screenplays for arthouse films (Smoke, Blue in the Face, both 1995), even directed one (The Inner Life of Martin Frost, 2007). But it was the enigmatic, hallucinatory aura of his fiction – in 1990s novels such as The Music of Chance, Leviathan and Mr Vertigo – that defined his sensibility. Sometimes this trademark style could veer into whimsy or self-parody (as in Timbuktu, 1999, with its canine hero) although stronger novels – such as The Brooklyn Follies (2005) – always pay heed to the pulse, and voice, of contemporary America. Keenly engaged in current affairs, Auster held office in the writers’ body PEN, deplored the rise of Donald Trump, and spoke of his country’s core schism between ruthless individualism and “people who believe we’re responsible for one another”.

Auster the exacting aesthete was also a yarn-hungry storyteller. If he edited a centenary edition of Samuel Beckett – a literary touchstone, along with Hawthorne, Proust, Kafka and Joyce – he also compiled a selection of unlikely true tales submitted by National Public Radio listeners. They revealed the strange “unknowable forces” at work in everyday life. In his epic novel 4321, the formal spellbinder and social chronicler meet. It sends a boy born in New Jersey in 1947 down four separate paths in life: an Auster encyclopedia, ingenious but heartfelt too. Bulk and heart also characterised his mammoth 2021 biography of the Newark-born literary prodigy Stephen Crane, Burning Boy.

The ferocity of fate that scars his work gouged wounds into Auster’s life as well. Daniel succumbed to addiction, accidentally killed his infant daughter with drugs, and died of an overdose in 2022. Auster’s cancer diagnosis came in 2023. Prolific and versatile as ever, in that year he still published both an impassioned essay on America’s firearms fixation (Bloodbath Nation) and his farewell novel, Baumgartner. Its narrative hi-jinks dance smartly over a bass chord of grief.

Auster populated a literary planet all his own, where the strange music, and magic, of chance and contingency coexist with love, dream and wonder. In Burning Boy, he wonders why Crane’s output now goes largely unread, although “the prose still crackles, the eye still cuts, the work still stings”. After 34 books, so does his own.

Auster is survived by his wife and daughter, and a grandson, and by his sister, Janet.

🔔 Paul Benjamin Auster, writer, born 3 February 1947; died 30 April 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[chronicallyblyrie]

TMAGP HIATUS OVER YAYAYA

Heres my live thoughts of TMAGP 21! I didnt realize the hiatus was over today i am so happy

-I do NOT like the incident elements listed for this episode at all

-Sam stop being sad :(

-oh it totally boosts it

-oh saaaaam being a corporate slave doesnt suit you

-sam being a double agent working against the government is an arc I wanna see

-something tells me sam cant quit even if he wants....

-celia seriously what the fuck is up with you

-immigration status??? immigration from ANOTHER UNIVERSE?? (sorry that was bad)

-CHESTERRRR

-MAGNUS INSTITUTE??

-proposal?

-who tf is dr. welling

-the insitute had a lot of financial and political resources for some reason?

-oh I really dont like this

-transmutation, definition is something changing entirely from one thing to another, often used when describing chemical ELEMENTS transmutating. ELEMENTS, like gee idk MORE ALCHEMY BULLSHIT??

-WHAT IS THIS DOME THING??

-yeah tired construction workers probably wont look that great dude be nice to them

-yikes

-WHY ARE PEOPLE BEING BURIED ALIVE GUYS

-oh boy

-ALICE NO

-oh my god she knows its sentient

-SHE KNOWS SOMEONE IS IN THERE

-STOP IT

-god lena please shut up security risks are the least of your problems

-MAYBE SHES LATE BECAUSE SHES FUCKING DEAD LENA

-Lena WORRIED?? oh she knows she fucked up

-what the fuck gwen

-INK5OUL WHAT

-YOU JUST CUT A MAN TO DEATH

-tape recorder??

-TAPE RECORDER??

-BRUH WHAT

-WOAH WAIT WHY IS SHE BEING COMPELLED?

-WOAHWOAHWOAHWOAH

-WHAT IS THE ERROR CREATURE WHY IS IT A DARK GHOSTLY FIGURE??

-WOOOOOOAAAAHHHH

-OH MY GOD

-OKAY SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE

OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYOKASO WHAT I HAVE GATHERED IS FOR SOME REASON THE ERROR CREATURE THAT JUST APPEARED STARTED COMPELLING GWEN TO GIVE A STATEMENT AND THAT THING CARRIES TAPE RECORDERS AND SPAWNS THEM IN TO LISTEN TO THE STATEMENTS OR SOMETHING??

THIS MAKE SENSE BECAUSE WHEN ALICE MET WITH THE DEAD LADY WHO WAS TELLING A STORY THAT WAS HEARD OVER A TAPE RECORDER TOO

WHATEVER THIS FIGURE IS ITS TRYING TO LISTEN IN ON EVERYTHING,AND ALSO WHAT DOES IT MEAN THERE'S MORE SOMEWHERE???

GOD I AM GOING FUCKING FERAL

[harmonyhealinghub]

Unveiling the Spellbinding Origins of Halloween Shaina Tranquilino October 30, 2023

As orange leaves flutter to the ground and jack-o'-lanterns flicker in the night, it's undeniable that Halloween has become a beloved, spine-tingling celebration worldwide. But have you ever wondered about the bewitching origins hiding behind this enchanting holiday? Join us on a captivating journey as we unravel the mysterious history of Halloween.

Ancient Roots: The roots of Halloween can be traced back over 2,000 years to an ancient Celtic festival called Samhain (pronounced sow-in). Celebrated by the Celts in Ireland, Scotland, and parts of Britain, Samhain marked the end of summer and welcomed the harvest season. On October 31st, they believed that the boundary between the living and dead blurred, allowing spirits to roam freely among them.

Trick-or-Treating Takes Shape: During Samhain festivities, people would dress in costumes made from animal hides, attempting to ward off evil spirits or disguise themselves from mischievous entities. They also lit bonfires as a form of protection against malevolent forces—a tradition that still echoes today with our glowing Jack-o'-lanterns.

Christian Influence: In the 9th century A.D., Christianity began spreading throughout Celtic lands. Pope Gregory III designated November 1st as All Saints' Day or All Hallows' Day to honour saints and martyrs who didn't have their own feast day yet. To integrate pagan traditions into Christian practices and discourage Celtic rituals during Samhain, November 1st became known as All Hallows' Eve—the precursor to modern-day Halloween.

Ghostly Evolutions: As time progressed, various customs blended together to shape Halloween into its present form. In Medieval England, "souling" emerged when beggars went door-to-door offering prayers for departed souls in exchange for food or money—a practice that later inspired modern-day trick-or-treating. Similarly, in Scotland and Ireland, "guising" appeared, with people dressing up in costumes to perform songs, poems, or tricks for treats.

The Immigrant Influence: Halloween as we know it today found its way to North America through Irish and Scottish immigrants during the 19th century. In the United States, these traditions merged with Indigenous harvest celebrations and other European customs. The result was a uniquely "American Halloween"—a time of community gatherings, parties, parades, and spooky festivities that captured hearts across the nation.

Modern-Day Celebrations: In recent decades, Halloween has gained immense popularity worldwide. It has evolved into a holiday celebrated by people of all ages—both young and old. Festivities range from creatively carved pumpkins to haunted houses, costume parties to horror movie marathons—all embraced as part of this spirited celebration.

As darkness descends on All Hallows' Eve each year, we're reminded of the fascinating history behind Halloween's enduring magic. From ancient Celtic rituals to religious adaptations and cultural exchanges, this captivating holiday has grown into an enchanting blend of tradition and fun.

So whether you find yourself mesmerized by ghostly tales around a bonfire or joining the chorus of tiny witches and superheroes chanting "trick-or-treat," remember that Halloween is more than just costumes and candy—it's a bewitching journey through time connecting us to centuries-old customs and shared human experiences.

[millylotus]

General Notes

May I introduce to you my headcanons for Duke and Danny

Let’s start with Danny cause he changed the most [kinda]

The Fentons are a mixed Filipino-Cuban family [Maddie-Jack] b/c I wanted to [I am not Filipino or Cuban so if I mess up somewhere please tell me!] Jazz, Danny and Maddie all grew up learning and speaking Tagalog

Maddie and Alicia are Filipino-American & 3rd gen immigrants, their family name is Palad

Alicia’s farm was something their aunt had owned then later left to Alicia since her kids didn’t want it

Jack’s mom Olivia nee Castro was Cuban and his dad Rupert Fenton was white [that’s the Fenton-Nightingale side]

Danny is transmasc and has been presenting as such for awhile now

As like a general assumption, the Fentons aren't Horrible vivisect their child kind of parents in most of my AUs, they just aren't perfect half the time

Now onto Duke!

Duke is Nigerian, with both Elaine and Gnomon being centuries old for the most part [depends on AU but before Europeans started their bullshit]

Duke speaks an old dialect of Hausa that Elaine and Gnomon had grown up with and one he grew speaking it along with English

His adopted Dad Doug Thomas is Black, and he has an Aunt and Uncle Tracy & Alvin Jackson who live and in Bludhaven

Duke’s cousin [who’s cannon] Jay Jackson is a decade or so older than Duke and his legal guardian after his parents couldn’t do so

Duke still lives with the Wayne’s sometimes [they were his foster family until Jay could get custody] just jumping between each

The We Are Robin gang are still together but no longer as a group of vigilantes but as friends

I call them The Flock and they each have their own bird nicknames, Izzy|Fieldfare, Riki|-Galerinda, Dax|Alaemon, Andre|Blackbird, Dracy-Joanna “DJ”|Sparrow

They had another member Troy|Warbler he died during the Robin Wars when he was trying to defuse a bomb, it was rigged to blow anyway

Danny does this thing where he just stares at Duke for prolonged periods of time

Duke thought he’d be bothered by it but he actually likes it alot, for Danny to just look at him like he’s his only light

Danny’s always had dysphoria around his body, especially after he started to become more ghostly

Duke always thought he was beautiful and would tell him as such, he loved to watch Danny blush like a fool at his words

I’ve always thought of Danny as a romantic, he’s the type of person to do anything for his partner

He thrives off of physical affection and word of affirmation

Duke is also kinda romantic but he finds it difficult to do physical things, when he truly loves a person he holds them alot, taking their hand, hugging them, things like that

He loves to get things from people he loves, and acts of service

These two are made for each other I swear

DEADLIGHTS MASTERPOST, AO3

Pt.2 [Claim Sheets]

[tornrose24]

Casper au/Molly the Happy Ghost and how they all died (TW: character death)

So I was thinking of this au that I rarely touch upon, and then I was all ‘Wait a minute… how DID Molly, Scratch, Geoff, and Jeff die in this story?’ And… well, I came up with something.

Before anyone died–

-So I imagine there was a huge time gap between the present and when everyone was alive. Like I’m aiming for sometime around 1910.

-The McGees lived in Brighton since before Molly was born, and in this scenario, Pete was descended from some very lucky Irish immigrants who were able to build a nice manor while he married Sharon, who was a daughter of recently arrived immigrants who managed to travel all the way to the midwest. (David traveled further to New York).

-Scratch knew Geoff for a time, and had been friends of the McGees, who made him the honorary uncle to their firstborn child, Molly. (So of the three ghosts, Scratch had known Molly the longest.)

-Much like in canon, Scratch kept putting off going off to see the world with Adia. It was his friendship with Molly that eased his guilt and fears for awhile.

-Molly had been acquainted with the rest of the trio at various points in her human life, thanks to Scratch.

-Jeff and Geoff harbored a crush on each other, but neither realized that they were in love with each other, nor could they have acted on it, given the time period.

Molly’s death-

-I was debating on this, but given how a certain episode almost lines up with the movie, I think Molly died by being out in the cold for too long. It was a harsh winter and the snow got worse, and she couldn’t find her way home. She was found and taken home, but hypothermia had long settled in and the cold eventually claimed her. The grief was too much for her family, who would eventually move away.

Geoff’s death-

-The first of the three to die and it was similar to how he died in canon–drowning. He had a bit too much fun one night and was too close to the tracks. To avoid the train, he leaped into the lake, but he forgot that he couldn’t swim. Or that he chose the deepest part of the lake to leap for safety.

Jeff’s death

-Someone like Jeff would probably be carrying around lots of heavy stuff for deliveries or for construction as a job back then. Geoff’s death made him sad, and he got so distracted one day when especially stuff was being lifted up in the air by ropes. The ropes snapped, and Jeff’s skull was crushed by the falling weight.

Scratch’s death–

-Was overwhelmed with the sorrow of losing Molly, and even moreso when the remaining McGees left. He was left all alone with his despair, and it was so bad that when he went on an epic, yet destructive food-eating binge in town, he didn’t realize one of the dishes he ate was actually poisoned and intended for another. Thus his poor eating habits ultimately did him in.

Afterwards-

-In death, the three adults reunited. Geoff and Jeff were the first to reunite though it took awhile before they could confess their feelings. Scratch–the last to die–was quickly found, though he of course was in a panic mode over his fate.

-By this point Molly had awakened and realized what had happened to her, but the loss of her family hurt her more than her actual death.

-Scratch found Molly in the McGee manor when he revisited it and heard rumors of the place already being ‘haunted by the dead daughter.’ It was a bittersweet, yet happy reunion for the two.

-Geoff and Jeff moved in later since they had nowhere else to go.

-The ghostly adults were better at scaring away intruders and potential buyers across the years.

-Meanwhile, Molly isn’t so keen on scaring. She’s not good at it and she would like to have friends her own age (or at least the age she was upon death), even if she appreciates that she’s not entirely alone.

-Geoff and Jeff eventually confess their feelings and tend to leave the house for their month-long anniversary across the years.

-Of the three, Scratch is the most protective of Molly, despite his lazy, jerkish behavior. He’s not keen on losing her again after what happened last time.

-The ghosts aren’t bound to the manor, and do whatever they wish in Brighton.

[connectparanormal]

Explore the Haunted Inn: Ghost Stories of Inselhaus

This story has immigration to the USA, the bed and breakfast industry, and multiple ghosts. Video version at Ghost Haunting of the Inselhaus Inn.

From the site:

The interview features Dorothee Gossel discussing her life and experiences running the Inselhaus, a bed and breakfast in Macomb, Illinois. Gossel shares her immigration from Germany, the history of her family, and the inn’s ghost stories, particularly anecdotes featuring a ghost named Edith. The conversation highlights the welcoming community and fond memories she has created.

[acquired-stardust]

Game Spotlight #10: MediEvil (1998)

Spooky season is upon us, which means two themed spotlights! Join Ash as she takes a look back at a game from her childhood in this Halloween edition of Acquired Stardust’s gaming spotlights!

Often discussed here is the legendary year of 1998, a year in which it seemed like pop culture at large was firing on all cylinders, and a big one in my childhood personally. It was the year of the one and only Disney movie I’d seen as a kid, Mulan, which helped me feel a little bit closer to my Chinese immigrant great grandfather, a figure that loomed large in my family. The world of video games saw heavy hitters with enduring legacies such as Spyro the Dragon and Burning Rangers. Sandwiched between a lot of all-time classics is SCE Cambridge’s MediEvil, a game that despite being noteworthy at the time has fallen off in terms of relevancy steeply.

Combining a Tim Burton-esque aesthetic and gameplay inspired by Capcom’s Ghosts n Goblins and Nintendo’s Legend of Zelda, and much like Megaman Legends was released before Ocarina of Time. MediEvil stars the reanimated skeleton of Sir Daniel Fortesque, revered ‘hero of Gallowmere’, revived in an unwitting coincidence by century-past nemesis Zarok who’s magic creates an army of the dead, gives life to stone statues and corrupts the living into doing the evil sorcerer’s bidding. An interesting turn of events in the opening of the game reveals that the moniker ‘hero of Gallowmere’, ostensibly earned by Sir Dan in the past fight against Zarok a hundred years before the start of the game, is actually completely misattributed to him, having actually been struck down in the opening moments of the climactic battle. This detail serves as the motivating force for Sir Dan’s quest, seeking to redeem himself and banish Zarok once and for all. It also touches on a very interesting concept as a hobbyist historian, the cliche that “history is written by the victor” is a very real thing and something that multiple fields of history grapple with - many things in the past (especially the very distant past) are tragically unknowable and our understanding of accepted history can be shaken by discoveries that have literally laid beneath our feet all along. It’s a small hook but one that’s always been fun for me and compelling enough.

MediEvil’s action-platformer gameplay is fairly standard for the time, featuring a number of strongly themed levels spread out across a world map which allows the player to tackle batches of levels in any order they choose. True to its Zelda inspirations the player will collect a variety of weapons and items that allow for new methods of attack along with new exploration opportunities, often allowing backtracking into previous levels to access new routes that are further populated with gold, health recovery or yet more items. Hidden in each level is also a ghostly chalice, normally inaccessible even if found, that is made obtainable through the defeat of enemies in the current level and will grant access to the Hall of Heroes, a Valhalla-esque realm in which Sir Dan’s former allies in the battle of Gallowmere now reside with their spirits bound to statues bearing their likeness. Each chalice collection offers a conversation with one of Dan’s many past allies and a gift, in many cases upgrades to overall health capacity or gold but many encounters also see the ally bestow their legendary armament to Dan to aid in his fight against the returned evil sorcerer. Chalice collection isn’t particularly difficult or involved, but adds a wonderful sense of progression to the game along with its great rewards.

While it may not be especially difficult to physically collect the chalices, fulfilling the qualification for it can prove slightly frustrating. Combat is very simplistic and slightly clunky, the player often not able to avoid taking damage depending on the weapon chosen as Dan and an enemy frantically bump into each other causing damage to the player. The camera can also be an issue and was even back in 1998. Most of these issues are remedied by familiarizing yourself with the way health and revival works, and realizing it’s actually very simple to spend a few minutes farming the first level to replenish your health stock before tackling a new level with more limited resources. Level design is also largely good, though these issues do come to a head in a later stage (the dreaded ghost ship). Despite some blemishes and minor frustration MediEvil is a game that rewards familiarity well and can take experienced gamers (and ones who adjust to its particular feel) very little time to beat. For the purposes of giving this game a spotlight my run of MediEvil only took four and a half hours, and the Playstation 4 remaster, released in 2019, took under four hours.

On the subject of the PS4 remaster, it’s a largely improved version of the game and in many cases a straight upgrade. Controls have been smoothed slightly, the graphics have kept their Burton-esque charm without straying too far visually or tonally like the 2005 Playstation Portable remake which looks and comes across a lot closer to Spyro the Dragon than MediEvil proper, which can be genuinely eerie at times especially as a child and especially in 1998. Replacing the text-only tomes that give lore and gameplay advice is new narration by veteran voice actress Lani Manella which also adds to the experience quite well without changing it into a more comedic or childish one which unfortunately crops up in detrimental ways in both the 2005 PSP remake and MediEvil’s 2000 sequel, MediEvil 2, also on the Playstation console.

Speaking of being a child in 1998, MediEvil has a special place in my heart for being one of the few times I can remember my whole immediate family bonding over an experience. In an especially difficult early childhood, this game is one of the only things I can remember bringing together my entire immediate family to bond and gush over. To this day my mother vividly remembers attempting to dodge the boulders of early level Cemetary Hill, as well as the eerie possessed villagers of the Sleeping Village. Although the 2019 remaster is a straight upgrade in many areas there is still an unmatched charm that the original brings largely through its visuals. There’s just something so charming about Dan’s low polygon count depiction along with many other enemies and locales. The remaster is still very strong visually and may fit more modern sensibilities (especially those who have a hard time visually with the distinct polygons featured in many Playstation titles). Both versions are worth playing, and the relatively low playtime for those who adjust to its gameplay means you can indeed tackle both the original and 2019 remaster in pretty short order if you so desired.

A gem hidden among the stones, MediEvil is undoubtedly stardust.

- Ash