#inspired by ghosts book

[prest0-art]

He’s sorry margo

[unboundprompts]

Chapter titles regarding horror comedy?

Horror Comedy Title Ideas

-> feel free to edit as you see fit.

Mirth of the Macabre

The Joke's on the Undead

Scream and Scream Again

Chuckles from the Crypt

Nightmare Nonsense

Nocturnal Screams

Bite Me Tender

Coffin Break

Mummy Dearest

Witchful Thinking

Vampires and Vodka

[galina]

Anyone's Ghost, August Thompson – enjoyed this advance review copy way more than I expected, it broke through my cynical shell and turned me into a soft wobbly mess. An angsty cheesy beautiful queer love story that will be a perfect crying-on-holiday read, comes out in July.

[mysterious-secret-garden]

H. J. Ford - Andrew Lang's 'The Pink Fairy Book', page 15, 1897.

[iknowicanbutwhy]

"History, culture, people; we were fools to think we could create it all from scratch."

[writeronartblock]

Finding out that Skully turned out to be a dead historical figure from CENTURIES before the current time and that everyone got their memories wiped after exiting the book.

I suggest an Necro no Hanayome AU where Yuu is the doctor and Skully's the corpse bride

[psychhound]

[ID: a banner for a game. the banner has a speckled purple background with the top of a building rising on one side. light text reads "the graveyard game" with the word "game" having three ghosts rising out of it. there is a block of yellowish-green at the bottom with the words "a for truth's sake ethnography writing game". end ID]

Cecilia the groundskeeper said the ghosts have been extra cranky ever since that tour of schoolchildren came to visit last week. Parsimony Smit (1667 – 1721) disagrees, stating merely that the coming supermoon is what has all the spirits in a tizzy. Not that he would ever stoop to such behavior himself.

Parsimony Smit (“Death is a debt to nature due that I have paid and so must you”) is one of the more respectable members of the deceased community here, according to himself, unlike Archie Jack (1854 – 1881 “Now between / these carved stones / rich treasure lies / dear Jack his bones”) who never got over his childish love of pulling pranks. Cecilia said you should be fine, as long as you don’t bring anything into the graveyard you don’t mind mysteriously winding up in a nearby tree. You’re not sure exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into here.

The Graveyard Game is a solo-journaling game where you travel to a magical haunted graveyard in order to learn more about the community and write an ethnography on them. 

Pull cards to ask questions of the residents, roll dice to see how well interactions go, and get to know a host of colorful characters from prankster ghosts, to the cemetery gravedigger, to a local vampire, and a mysterious stranger. Unlock 12 different locations and gain levels in friendship and familiarity with the community as you document more and more in your field notes.

You'll need: A d20, d12, and d8, and a deck of playing cards 

The Graveyard Game is a hack of For Truth's Sake by @hmooncreates. It was inspired by The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

Includes a formatted pdf, a plaintext document, and a dyslexia friendly document!!

check it out on itch!!

[flowerfreya]

Dr. Dad

Just a little something that I’ve been working on.

Simon “Ghost” Riley / Reader

About this: this is honestly a slice of life of both parents being a doctor with a new baby and just trying to figure out how to balance life. I’m still trying to figure out the formatting to please bare with me.

“She thinks that we should coddle her since She just had a baby”, Graves says to no one and everyone at the same time.

We had been in the OR for almost 5 hours and all you did was sigh (not even loudly) and switch the weight from one foot to another (It was a minor surgery, it honestly should not take this long anyway). And you did just have a baby and since maternity leave is horrible and you do not want to left behind even for being a 5th year resident you are back on rotation after 3 weeks of giving birth.

“Nothing to add to that…..doctor” snides Graves

“No”

“No what”

You roll eyes before you can even think about keeping the eye rolling inside your head

He snaps, “you've been away so you must have forgotten how we run things around here , get out, now”

Nervous glances went around the room as you stood there stunned only for just a moment (because honestly thank god) before you quietly left the operating room.

You go to the resident break room where you see another 5th year resident shoveling Panera Bread bagels, something fierce with the only reason the residents get them is because the attending that buys them gets a free bagel box because it is Tuesday.

You wobble in the room still recovering from birth and standing on your feet for 5 hours. Your breast are sore and full having needed to pump at hour 2 of the surgery and you miss your baby something serious

You greet the other resident with a nod and slump into the couch that's been there since you were probably a young teenanger

The door opens slowly to reveal Dr. Simon Riley. The other resident quickly leaves the room and then Simon is shutting and locking the door.

You have already pulled off your shirt and placed the wearable breast pumps and is now a gently hum in the room

Simon just stares at you before quietly sitting down next you pulling you feet into his lap and taking off your shoes and starts kneading your feet.

You let out an appreciate hum

“I looked in OR 3 for you and Graves said he kicked you out” he tries to say nonchalantly but you can hear the amusement in his voice.

You let out a “Hmmmm”

“Can you tell me what happened, my love ?”

“I guess I forgot my place.” You crack your eyes open to see his reaction

He lets out a little smirk.

[writeouswriter]

*banging fists on table* more mentally ill characters in stories that aren't just about them being mentally ill! More mentally ill characters in sci-fi, in fantasy, in romance and fun and high stakes situations and everything in between, as the heroes, as complex individuals, multifaceted and treated with respect, not having their needs and differences ignored or skirted around but, again, not having them be their only trait or plot point/entire premise! Please, I'm begging, on my hands and knees, there's a place for these topics and characters in realistic, reflective and literary fiction, yeah, but there's also a place in those magical, mystical, action packed, mysterious and alien worlds, give them to ME

[scoutingthetrooper]

the little ghost who was a quilt

[ghcstao3]

ghost owning a quaint, used/vintage bookshop that really is only able to continue to run mostly by a good word of mouth and the regular collectors. they all know him as quiet, a bit standoffish, kind of intimidating but really knowledgeable and passionate about the shop and its contents.

-

It’s not the sort of place Soap would frequent. But then again, with work, he hardly has a home and time to find his places—so when he’s forced on a relatively longterm medical leave, he finds himself keen on exploring more of the places nearby to his flat.

That’s how he comes across the bookshop—the place intrigues him, the way it somehow looks like it’s been stuck in a certain point in history and has never changed since. And as he steps in, he’s lured further by the smell of books and used pages, and some distant undercurrent of tea and sage.

But most of all, Soap is drawn in by the store’s owner, sitting tucked into his corner with a book of his own, twisted into some (surely) uncomfortable position as he reads. He looks peaceful, Soap thinks. And strong. Steady.

(Handsome.)

Soap browses before he dare disturb the man, picking out books here and there but never quite settling. He looks through spines more than he does descriptions, like he’s afraid even gentle touch would be damaging.

Until a deep, rumbling voice informs him from the desk in the corner, “The books don’t bite, you know. Unless your hands are dirty, you won’t ruin them.”

Instead of continuing to browse with this new advice, Soap finally drifts toward the man, curious. His steps are tentative, though difficult to hide with creaking floorboards. The man hasn’t even looked up from his book.

“And if my hands are dirty?” Soap jokes.

The man looks up, one eyebrow raised, and replies as dryly as possible, “Then don’t touch.”

His eyes are a wonderful shade of brown. Something deep and soothing, the colour of black coffee and the old leather-bound books all over the shelves of the shop. Soap can’t help but stare into them, fall into the abyss.

Soap huffs. “Fair enough,” he mutters. He wills himself to look away from the hard, unwavering gaze, and back to the endless novels he has yet to choose from.

What a great first impression he’s made.

Soap sways on his feet. Clears his throat in an attempt to dispel the silence since it doesn’t seem like the man would continue to initiate anything himself. “Have any recommendations, then?”

“No,” the man says. Then he sits back, sets his book down, looks Soap over. Considers something for a long moment. Finally tells soap, “Try the poetry section.”

Funnily enough, it’s one of the few sections Soap had barely glossed over, hardly a place he would think to look for something of interest—so he’s more inclined to oblige, leaving the man to return to his novel and quiet without Soap in the middle of it all.

And funnily enough, it’s there Soap’s eye is caught by an unassuming book, its cover green and worn, the gilded text describing title and author faint and chipped.

He doesn’t look through it after picking it off the shelf—Soap just knows, somehow.

Soap moves toward the desk, silently makes the purchase. The man somehow seems at peace with Soap’s decision as he slides over the book to finally be claimed by its new owner once he’s done his checkout process.

Soap doesn’t expect the man to say anything else to him—he hardly seems the type to wish the meaningless have a good day to customers—but to his surprise, the man says, “Make sure to come back if it’s any good.”

There’s something hidden in his expression, in the few words the man has again spoken. Soap just nods, thinking he’d come back even if the pages turned out blank.

He leaves the shop feeling oddly lighter. Something swirls in his chest as he walks home, the book tucked dutifully under the arm currently without a sling.

Maybe he should go exploring more.

[whoopseydaisy]

The Overflowing Heart

I will tell you how I made this witch’s token, but you will have to find a way of your own. It is as Grandmother Wren told us,

“Remember always that some portion of magic is yours to wield, and that the world contains many, many truths.”

the recipe:

3/4 oz Kazuki gin

1 1/2 oz. Sake + tea mixture

1 oz. fresh squeezed grapefruit

3/4 oz. Strega

shake over ice, and serve in your finest or favourite tea cup

garnish with dried rose petals

notes:

Sherringham Kazuki gin— a collaboration of one of my favourite distilleries and my favourite local tea shop, Westholme Tea Farm. Made from Japanese cherry blossoms, and locally grown tea leaves with notes of yuzu, grapefruit, and juniper. I first visited Sherringham in a trio of my own, on a day long adventure, visiting a beach someway up the island. Westholme is run by an old coworker of my Aunt’s, and his partner who makes gorgeous pottery. I could not put words to my excitement when I first heard whispers of their collaboration.

Sake + Tea Mixture— I can never fully recreate this just the same. There is magic in that, I think. I have little left. I made it by taking a sprinkling of the following teas from Westholme, and cold steeping them in a mason jar with a large ice cube, topped with sake and a splash of moon bathed witch water.

featuring:

Blossom: (jasmine green, floral), for the cottage’s calendar

Bi Luo Chun: (green, delicate and earthy), for i thought it was grown here, over seven long years (I rolled a nat 1 on my perception check)

Pur-eh: (fermented, earthy), for its mushroominess and it’s connection therin

Dog: (black assam, vanilla and cardamon, from the Chinese Zodic series), the cardamom pod and a few leaves, for our beloved Fox

Witch Water: the witch water used in this potion was bathed in the Friday, October 13th New Moon (a day so witchy I thought for sure the class would be released that day!) in an empty kazuki gin vessel

~

Grapefruit— because it was pink and in season and a citrus I love dearly

Strega— the witch liqueur! According to legend, Giuseppe Alberti was given the recipe for this elixir after saving a witch falling out of the sacred walnut tree, under which witches would convene to dance and perform their rituals.

for the cocktail chapter of the @worldsbeyondpod unofficial cookbook

[ghostjournalss]

Hey ghouls 🥐 I have a video scheduled to be uploaded at 11:00 am GMT ☕️

[clonerightsagenda]

If Laios is going to investigate the weird biology of every dungeon monster maybe he will investigate something that has haunted (lol) and vexed me for many years, which is that if ghosts are made up of soulstuff or whatever, are their clothes and equipment (if applicable) part of their bodies? Obviously in Discworld logic that's just the clothes' ghost (ham sandwiches have ghosts. not mustard though) but in DnD rules if you cut a ghost's clothes are you costing them hit points? What else would it be made of. I often think about this.

[ravensroleplays]

Holy cow. We've really had ten years of Five Nights at Freddy's. To be honest, I've actually been toying around with what I wanted to do for FNAF's 10-year anniversary project for a while now. I had a couple ideas, but they were pretty much just based off stuff other people did. All I knew was that I wanted to use my versions of the ghost kids from my FNAF AU, because while I may not do as much for it as I used to, I did have a lot of fun writing, drawing, and RPing for it way back when, and I still love these babies :P

Eventually, I decided to do a redraw of the customization screen from the first game with the ghost kiddos in place of their respective animatronics.

Not a perfect redraw by any means--the squares each character was in ended up getting wonky and I couldn't think of how to fix them, and I kind of just gave up on the background colors, but you know what? I'm still happy with how this turned out :P

Original pic under cut.

If you 'like' my art, I respectfully ask that you reblog it as well.

[wehavewords]

“There is no such thing as a ghost of the dead. Yet suffering has a way of begging to be remembered. Sometimes, as a story. Sometimes, as a wraith.”

GennaRose Nethercott, Thistlefoot