#WRITTEN BY GHOUL/MILES ( THEY/HE )

[unholies]

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳⠀#𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 is an indie & highly - selective writing blog for original character ( 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙰 𝚆𝙴𝙸 ) . general horror & sexual themes present . 𝖆 𝖘𝖙𝖚𝖉𝖞 𝖎𝖓 : being born into tragedy , fighting with boiling blood , feminine horror . vera's character is highly inspired by stephen king's ' carrie ' ( anti - stephen king ) and the films ' black swan ' and ' birds of paradise ' .⠀minors⠀+⠀personals⠀will⠀be⠀hard - blocked .⠀more⠀ info⠀below .

𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 : @selfoe / @trash2k , @eregored / @dogsrot , @urltba

character sheet⠀.⠀pinterest⠀.⠀playlist⠀.⠀promo⠀.⠀aes. sideblog

ੈ♡˳⠀general⠀rules⠀apply:⠀discrimination⠀&⠀bigotry⠀will⠀not⠀tolerated⠀and⠀you⠀will⠀be⠀hardblocked.⠀minors⠀+⠀personals⠀will⠀be⠀blocked.⠀dms⠀open⠀to⠀mutuals⠀only.⠀if⠀there⠀is⠀no⠀interaction⠀between⠀new⠀moots ( at least talking )⠀within⠀two⠀weeks ,⠀i⠀will⠀soft - block .

[ghoulbrain]

Happiness is a Warm Gun

18+ 4.5k ghoul x f!reader. predator/prey roleplay, lite bondage lite cnc into enthusiastic consent, heavy gun kink/play, pet names, clothed/naked sex, creampie, aftercare. ends tender bc i can't help myself. gif credit. written for my darling @luckytiggertalia, who asked for excessive gun kink and captor/captive. thank you! 🖤 written as a successor to Saddle Up, Sweetheart, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Being in a relationship with the world’s most notorious bounty hunter lands you in some strange situations, but none stranger than those you concoct for yourselves. You run, and the Ghoul hunts you.

The Ghoul is one of the fiercest bounty hunters in New California, yet regardless of how terrifyingly efficient he is, everyone knows he only takes on payouts worthy of his time. With his long shadow stretching out across the west, most hunters are reluctant to take on bounties over a certain threshold, lest they accidentally come between him and his quarry.

Which, at this moment, just so happens to be you.

You’ve made it to a Red Rocket truck stop just half a mile west of Junktown. What was once a glorified gas station in a world long-gone now serves as little more than a hollowed out shell providing shade for all manner of miscreants and creatures wandering the dusty wastes, still decorated in tiny reminders of life before the war.

Crouched down behind a counter, your back pressed to the grime painted wall beneath a window, you spot a heavily aged cardboard carton labeled Grey Tortious Famous Cigarettes wedged at the very back of the second shelf behind the counter. Clicking your tongue softly, you reach for it, using the barrel of your pistol to catch the corner of the box. Carefully–and quietly–you drag it close enough to grab.

Your hopes aren’t high, but–

Jackpot.

Smiling faintly, you extract a crumpled but still half-full pack of cigarettes from the carton. You glance around, eyes wandering until you spot the decrepit remains of some poor bastard collapsed against the far wall, still garbed in their threadbare signature Red Rocket uniform. With a slight nod, you fish a single cap out of a small pouch on your belt and slide it onto the shelf.

“Pleasure doing business,” you murmur to the corpse, tucking the cigarettes carefully into the pack strapped to your thigh.

A shrill whistle, the kind you’d call a dog with, snaps your attention back to the moment. You press your back tight against the wall, sucking in a sharp breath to hold.

“Alright, darlin’, y’little goose-chase is over,” the Ghoul calls into the lot. Your heart begins to race. He sounds close. “I’m man enough to admit y’outfoxed me back at the yard, that was clever. But’cha got nowhere to slip to now,” he says, voice gradually growing louder. It’s not long before you can hear the crunch of his boots in the gravel.

You screw your eyes shut, steeling yourself with a silent breath before opening them again. He’ll have to circle the building to get where you are. The crunch of his boots is louder with each step. If he keeps yapping, it’ll be even easier to track the moment he moves out of eyesight of the window you’re hiding under, and you’ll be able to creep out to get behind him. Your grip on your pistol flexes, finger poised off the trigger.

The footsteps outside grow quiet enough that you can no longer hear them over the thundering of your heart. He hasn’t said anything, but you give it an extra few seconds to be safe, holding your breath as you gingerly lift out of your crouch, careful to keep your head beneath the window frame, eyes on the door across from you. Even if he sees you, you’ll have time enough to–

You’re jerked backwards suddenly by your jacket, a scream yanked out of you as you’re pulled against the window, knocking into it.

“There y’are,” he says through his teeth, hauling you up to your feet. Fuck, he faked you out with his steps. He holds you against the window, the edge of it biting into your back, his fist curled tightly in the collar of your jacket. “Give it up, darlin’. Y’all mine now,” he coos, his voice a sinister rasp at your ear. 

Out of desperation, you drop your pistol and throw your arms up, slipping out of your jacket and stumbling forward onto your hands and knees. Your boots skid on the floor as you scramble to your feet, launching into a run. You look over your shoulder just in time to see him vaulting in through the window, scaring you into running faster.

Where you intend to run is a problem to be solved as you go.

Unfortunately for you, the Ghoul is a step ahead. Gunfire startles you halfway out of your skin, but it’s the sign that falls in your path that stops you in your tracks. You look up and see a woven cable swaying, frayed from where the crazy son of a bitch managed to shoot it clean apart. You gear up to bolt to the left, but it’s already too late. The tell-tale hiss of a rope whipping through the air is your only warning before the lasso tightens around your arms and sternum, one sharp yank pulling you off your feet and down onto your back.

The world spins. You let out a soft groan, moving to roll onto your side, but he keeps you from it with a hardy pull, gathering the rope in his hands as he walks to you.

The Ghoul lets out a low whistle, his shadow falling over you. “Close, but no cigar, sweetheart,” he drawls, crouching over you. 

Disoriented, you stare at his upside down face. He’s got his head tilted, lips parted in a crooked sneer of a smile. His eyes are dark enough that you can see yourself in them, glinting with predatory glee. You can’t hide the trill of excitement that runs through you over being looked at like that. He clicks his tongue.  

“N’aw, don’t you look plumb tuckered,” he says, voice laced with condescending sweetness. “No rest for the wicked, m’afraid,” he says, slipping his hands under your arms and hauling you up to your feet.

“You could’ve killed me,” you rasp, throat scorched by the dry desert air.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he deflects, amused. “Y’all in one piece, ‘ain’t’cha?” His breath is a warm tickle on your neck. With the rope tight across your sternum, arms pinned to your sides, he slides his gloved hand up your thigh, over your hip. His fingers tap along as he does, tickling your ribs, cupping your breast before sliding all the way up to your throat. 

The barest hint of his lips brushes the spot just behind your ear, the feeling so faint you could have made it up entirely. You shiver, pulling sharply away, but he pulls you right back in, the worn leather of his glove soft around your neck, his grip firm. 

“Mmhm, seem perfectly intact t’me,” he says, giving your throat a steadying squeeze. “No need t’put up a fight, angel. Y’comin’ with me either way.”

This time he presses his scarred lips properly to your skin, the feel of them warm and wet. Wanting. You swallow the lump in your throat, clench your thighs against the heat building between them. 

“Let go of me,” you say, fighting to put conviction in it. 

“No can do,” he says, his breath prickling goosebumps from your scalp to your thighs. “I’ve struck the motherlode with you.”

 The rope is tied low and tight enough that you can’t elbow him or shoulder your way free. Impulsively, you move to kick at his leg, but he outmaneuvers you, catching your kick with his boot and spinning you around so suddenly you gasp.

“Oohh, y’ve got fire,” he says, lips pulled thin in a devilish smile. “I’m gonna enjoy breakin’ you.” Something hard presses into your rib, and you don’t need to look down to know it’s the muzzle of his revolver. He draws the hammer back into place with a distinctive click. 

“Why don’t you be a good li’l captive and mosey on ahead?” He says, turning you until the gun is pressed into your lower back. You suppress a shudder. That’s when the world suddenly goes black, the press of the gun briefly vanishing while fabric is pulled tight over your eyes.

Wherever he’s taking you, he wants it to be a surprise.

The Ghoul walks you at gunpoint. He keeps the rope between you taut, the barrel of his gun pressed firmly to your back. The venture there is quiet, your gait tense with anticipation. A sick little thrill runs through you every time he yanks the rope or gives you a deep jab with his gun. There’s pleasure in his voice when he tells you, “Mind your step, sweetness.”

He knows precisely the effect he has on you, even if it took him time and a half to believe it.

His knuckles dig into your back as his fingers hook over the rope, holding it like a harness as you descend a flight of stairs. He catches you when you stumble on the last step, but it still startles you.

“A warning would have been nice,” you say, turning your head blindly, angling to try and get any glimpse of your surroundings from beneath the blindfold.

“Apologies,” he drawls, not sounding very sorry at all. He nudges you forward with his gun. “I like watchin’ you struggle.”

“Yeah, you make that very–” A hard tug on the rope cuts you off and stops you in your tracks. The rope comes loose after that, full circulation returning to your hands in a rush that makes them tingle. The Ghoul’s steps resonate in the room–it sounds large, mostly empty–as he walks away from you. You stay still for a hesitant moment, head jerking at the sound of something scraping across the floor towards you.

“Awwh, ain’t you sweet, waitin’ for permission,” he says, making you flush. You quickly reach up and pull the blindfold from your eyes, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room. 

It looks like a cleared out storage facility of some kind, with cement support beams lined up in a row down the center of the room, the walls lined with ransacked steel shelving. There’s a wire frame bed braced against one of the beams, heaped haphazardly with some pillows and blankets. 

The Ghoul sits on a rusty wrought iron chair in front of you, staring up from beneath the wide brim of his hat. From his thigh, he has his revolver fixed on you. 

“Atta girl,” he says as the blindfold hits the ground. “Now take off the rest.”

The low resonance of his voice easily commands the room. You swallow the lump in your throat, glancing down the dark barrel of his gun. Biting your tongue to keep yourself from showing too much excitement, you hurriedly reach for your–

The gunshot is deafening in the echoing expanse of the room, drowning out your scream. Already high on your own anticipation, the shot of adrenaline that goes through you with the startle nearly knocks you off your feet. 

His gun smokes in the wake of the shot that narrowly missed your reaching hand.

“Slow,” he tells you, cocking the hammer once again with his thumb.

The pound of your heart is rivaled only by the aching throb between your thighs. Breathing shallowly, you keep your eyes trained on him as you–slowly, this time–reach for your belt, pouches shifting as you unbuckle it. You lay it carefully on the ground, mindful of the treasures you acquired at the gas station, before you kick off each boot.

His gaze is heavy on you all the while, eyes dark and attentive to your every move. Your focus is on the tip of his gun, how it subtly follows along with your hands. You peel each layer off without taking your eyes from him, a shiver moving through you once your hands touch bare skin, purposefully sliding them down your hips, your legs, and then moving them slowly back up as you stand back up, stepping out of the garments pooled on the floor.

He tilts his gun sideways and beckons you forward with it, tipping his head back, dark eyes tracking your every move as you approach him. One at a time, he spreads his legs. “On y’knees, darlin’.” You obey, sinking down–slowly, he told you slow–onto your knees between his legs, bringing yourself to eye level with his gun. The cement floor feels harsh against your bare skin.

“Y’got my gun dirty runnin’ me out into the wastes like that,” he chides, leaning forward, pressing his gun to your sternum. With agonizing slowness, he drags the muzzle up through the valley between your breasts, to the notch beneath your throat, pressing into it briefly. He continues up, the metal cool against your burning skin, though not by much. He hooks the barrel under your chin and tips your head back.

“Clean it for me,” he says, pushing it between your lips.

While you open your mouth too readily for the game at hand, he doesn’t protest. The taste of the gun is bitter and metallic, but what strikes you most is the black powder residue. It’s charred with a sharp tang. A moan escapes you for the way he pushes it deeper, forcing your lips wider apart.

“Don’t be shy. Give ‘er a good spit shine, sweetheart,” he encourages, pulling the gun back only to push it deeper yet. You comply, welcoming the slide of it deeper, pressing your tongue into the grooves on the underside, your eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. “Good,” he says, voice rough with the effect you’re having on him.

Hands braced on your own bare thighs, your nails bite dull little crescents into your skin. The rock of your body is entirely subconscious, your eyelids fluttering. It’s easy to lose yourself to the work at hand, to luxuriate in the weight of his gaze on you while he uses you, fucking your mouth with the full barrel of his gun. He’s so committed to the fantasy, you can’t help but buy into it wholly.

By the time he pulls the gun away your chin is spit slick and your tongue is tingling where you’d been pressing it to the barrel. He gives an appreciative whistle while inspecting the wet shine of his gun. “That’s better,” he says, gaze sliding to you. He stands, grabbing a thick handful of your hair to haul you up to your feet with him. The noise you make is humiliating. Needy. His answering grin is wicked.

“Time t’oil it,” he says, voice frayed at the edges. He doesn’t let that trace of impatience impact his movements any. He walks you to the bed with that same loose devil-may-care swagger, assured that he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece. 

The mattress’ metal coils groan with your weight as he tosses you onto the bed, standing at the edge of it. The bed stands taller than most, bringing your pelvis parallel to his when you’re on your knees. He grabs your thigh and yanks your ass up into the air, smoothing his hand over the swell of it. He gives a sharp little slap to your rear that wrings a gasp out of you. The way he smooths his leather clad hand over the smarting spot afterwards almost feels like an apology, even if he’s really just admiring his handiwork.

“Spread,” he orders simply. You do so eagerly, widening the splay of your knees, folding your arms to rest your head on. “Look at you,” he breathes with genuine wonder, gripping your ass cheek and holding it firm while he inspects you. You can already feel what he’s looking at, how wet you are from his teasing. “Y’fuckin’ drippin’ for me.”

A shiver rolls through your whole body at the feel of his gun against your inner thigh sliding slowly upwards. Your hips give a reflexive little buck at the first touch of that warm barrel against your soaked cunt, your clit throbbing so hard it aches. “Don’t move,” he tells you. He sounds wrecked. He moves it back and forth, teasing your clit with just the muzzle of it before drawing back, and your thighs tremble with the effort to keep yourself still when all you want is to chase that precious relief.

The hiss of his zipper is the most thrilling noise you’ve ever heard. The gun disappears from between your thighs.

“Up,” he tells you, taking a rough hold of your shoulder and yanking you upright before you have the chance to comply. He holds you still while he lines himself up, the familiar thick head of his cock grinding through the wet slide of you, the length of him rubbing from taint to clit. “Y’made this big mess just from suckin’ down my gun? Christ alive, darlin’. You’re somethin’ else,” he says through his teeth. The ruin in his voice makes it feel like praise, and that feels good.

Almost as good as the slow burn of his cock pushing into you, the sound of it obscenely loud and wet. You tip your head back against his shoulder and reach back over your own, grabbing at his coat, holding onto him for dear life while he sinks deeper and deeper, pulling you back until your bare ass falls flush against him. Feeling his clothing against your bare body intensifies that intoxicating feeling of vulnerability. Never in your life has the thrill of danger been safe to explore.

Not until him.

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting almost as soon as he’s bottomed out. 

“Fffuck,” you exhale, eyes screwed tightly shut. You start to lean forward, but he catches you by the throat, pinning you back against his chest at the same time he fires his gun, shocking your eyes wide open. Your body goes rigid, cunt seizing up so tightly around him he hisses out a breath.

“C’mon, little bunny,” he whispers in a vicious grit, pressing the still-warm muzzle firmly against your temple. “Bounce for me.” He cocks the hammer back, the smell of black powder filling your senses. 

You nod fervently, lifting up on your knees and using the mattress to bounce yourself on his cock, gravity bringing you down into every one of his hard thrusts. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sighing his pleasure in strained little sounds. His hand slides down your throat to your chest, cupping your breast and squeezing, thumbing your nipple until you shudder.

“Close,” you moan, fist twisting in the fabric of his coat, your other hand clutching the wrist of the hand he’s fondling you with. “Please.”

His only response is to slide his hand down further, fingers slipping between your thighs. His middle finger finds your clit first, the friction making your hips jerk out of rhythm. He persists, fingering your clit in smooth circles while he fucks you hard.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot and wet on your neck. “All that fight’s gone now, ain’t it? Just a needy li’l thing beggin’ t’cum.” You’re so close you’re starting to shake, breath caught in your throat. “Go on, angel. Lemme hear how pretty you can beg.”

His fingers slow enough that your ascension falters. “Please!” You rasp immediately, squeezing his wrist, begging in every way you know how to. “Please, m’so close, please make me cum, please,” you plead, voice pitchy, your thoughts empty of everything but pleasure. He’s fucking you hard, chasing his own release just as fervently.  

Just like that his touch returns to full force, deftly working your clit until your pleasure crests and your pleas turn to cries. Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice, euphoria turning your vision white and emptying your mind of all thought while pleasure cascades through you in hot liquid waves.

He doesn’t stop, though his thrusts slow. He fucks you deeply through your orgasm, savoring every quiver around his cock while he uses you. You don’t hear him come, but you feel it, the deep rush of heat that he empties into the core of you, his body going still against yours. Your whole body shudders and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all. Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of him pressed against your back, holding you to him, grounds you.

He moves the gun from your temple and holsters it, adjusting his grip so that he can ease you down onto your stomach, slipping from between your legs. You pant hot puffs of air into the bedding, your vision blurry at the edges.

“Coop,” you call, signifying the end of your little game of pretend.

“M’right here,” he soothes, his bare hands upon you not a moment later. There’s a marked difference in the way he touches you now, a subtle tenderness that he’d forced out of his touch for the sake of play. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it until now, feeling it as if for the first time. 

He slides into bed next to you, having shed his gloves, coat and bandolier. You find the strength to slip an arm around him, clinging despite the tremble in your limbs. The next several seconds–moments, maybe hours, you can’t be sure–pass by in a haze of touch.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips. He makes you aware of your entire body, grounding you with sweeping touches to every part of your body. It’s an intoxicating intimacy that leaves you feeling warm and drunk, still hungry for more.

 At some point Cooper gets the blanket over you, skirting his scarred fingers up and down your arm beneath it. The adrenaline crash that follows your orgasm is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, leaving you exhausted on a level beyond physical.

“Still with me?” Cooper asks after a time, fingertips tapping idle patterns on your skin as if to call you back to your body. “Mhm… Intense,” you say, the lone word slurred by your lazy tongue.

“Warned you,” he gives back, sounding nearly as ruined. His voice is deeper than usual, thoroughly frayed at the edges. It’s true, he had warned you that you were playing with fire. It’s unclear how much of that had been play, and how much was just him. Still, it had been… thrilling. Amazing. Everything you’d hoped it would be. 

“How ‘bout it, darlin’, do I scare you yet?” He asks, making it sound like an inevitability. He must believe it is.

You sigh a low hum, pretending to give the matter great thought. “Mmm… Mm-mm. Not one little bit,” you say, the words hardly legible.

“Shucks,” he says simply, feigning something like disappointment.

“Why’re you so determined to scare me off?” You ask, adjusting where your head lay on his shoulder so that you can look up at him. You’ve grown accustomed to his unique silhouette, but more than that, you’ve started to figure out what it is that makes him handsome. He’s got a wide chin and a fine jawline, and on the rare occasions you see it, a charming smile.

Much of it is in his eyes. They never fail to make your heart stutter.

“A saner question would be why you’re so determined t’stay,” he counters, those very eyes dropping to meet yours. You can’t help but smile, which–as per usual–catches him just a touch off guard.

“I got a thing for pretty men,” you say, caught up in your own musings.

His expression flattens. “Very funny,” he says, and you realize he thinks you’re mocking him.

“Hey, I mean it. I was just thinking about how handsome you are,” you say, reaching up to touch his jaw.

“There’s a specific kind’a philia for finding corpses handsome, y’know,” he says, though in his afterglow the words lack their usual sharp cynicism. They come to him more like habit than anything else.

“You’re not a corpse, Cooper,” you tell him firmly, cupping his cheek in your palm. “You don’t need to keep living like one.”

He considers you in silence for a long moment. With the back of his knuckles, he brushes your cheek. There it is again; that deep sadness that sometimes appears in his eyes when he looks at you. As if he’s mourning something.

“What?” You whisper. “Why do you–”

He kisses you, swallowing the words clean off your lips. He takes your face between his hands and kisses you, kisses you, kisses you through your meager protests until your lips move with his and you sink back down into the warmth of it. He grows progressively more relentless with it, stealing your breath until you’re forced to break away, turning your head for air.

“You can’t kiss your way out of every–”

“I know,” he interrupts you, lifting his head to level you with a hard stare. “I know, alright? But it’ll come on my terms, in my time, yeah?”

You stare, pinned by the weight in his expression. After a beat, you nod, feeling dazed by both the onslaught and his words. It’s the only time he’s acknowledged that there is something, which you suppose is progress. “Okay,” you say softly, and then again more firmly, “Okay.”

His expression softens, taking in the look of you before he kisses you again. You reciprocate, pressing into his lips with the weight of your conviction, willing him to feel how much you really do mean it. 

“Thank you for today,” you murmur, settling back down against him. “I never thought that I’d be able to… do something like that. And live,” you say, adding the last bit with a rueful smile. “I feel safe with you.”

You wait for some kind of dismissive or self-deprecating remark from him, or even a sly jab at you and your sanity, but neither come. You glance up and find him staring at you, thoughtful and–if your eyes don’t deceive you–a little sentimental.

“I don’t make promises,” he tells you, sounding resigned. “But for what it’s worth, I’d never want t’do somethin’ I thought might hurt you.”

“You’re sweet,” you say, that same sentimentality slipping into your own voice. If not a bit ominous.

“Not really,” he replies, adjusting against the bedding, his eyes falling shut. “Y’standards are just too low.”

You sigh, closing your eyes with an incredulous little smile. “Shut up.”

The two of you drift into comfortable silence, his fingers idly traipsing the contours of your body. It’s like he’s memorizing the feel of you, hyper-aware that these intimate moments together are stolen. You reciprocate, seeking out what bare skin you can with gentle brushes of your fingers. He’s never admitted as much, but you’ve long suspected he struggles with pain. He’s rarely ever unclothed, and sometimes you see him wince when he goes too long between hits of those vials.

Cooper started living on borrowed time long before he met you, but it doesn’t stop you from hoping that he might someday see something more permanent in you. With you.

In the meantime, you’ll make the most of every second.

[ghoulsbounty]

First of all, I love 'From a previous life'. It's so well written and brings me so much joy to read.

That being said, I'm very excited to see you're taking requests.

Could we get a scenario where Cooper and fem, ex-vaulty reader find an almost abandoned vault when seeking shelter from an oncoming rad storm. After clearing it out- of most threats, they get comfortable and reader decides to give cooper a taste of the finer things in life. They could get power going, potentially shower (together?) Have a meal they didn't have to hunt, sleep in an actual bed, etc.

Could involve cuddling, smut, playfulness or whatever, I just love the thought of rough and tough Cooper getting all soft as he finally gets to indulge himself for the first time in over 200 years.

Please and thank you <3

What Happens Tonight

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Ex-Vaultie!Reader (fem)

Summary: You proposition the Ghoul whilst taking shelter during a radstorm.

Warnings: smut (18+), shower-sex, clothed sex (party of one), p in v, swearing, flirting, angst, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, rejection, emotionally stunted Cooper, slight mentions of appearance anxiety (Cooper), tiny hint at selling reader for vials (blink and you miss it)

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: Anon, thank you so much for such a lovely, detailed request (my first!) I hope I've managed to meet your expectations, and thank you for the kind words on From A Previous Life, I'm so glad you're enjoying it. I'd love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

👉Read part two HERE👈

The Ghoul's voice echoed through the steel corridors of the vault as he fired off another round into the oncoming horde of feral ghouls. "So much for being abandoned!" he shouted over his shoulder, his words barely audible over the cacophony of growls and moans. His gun raised, he braced himself for another wave.

You reacted instinctively, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you kicked out, your boot connecting with the hanging jaw of a ghoul that leaped at you. The sickening crunch of bone halted it's advance momentarily, giving the bullet from your gun time to find its mark, silencing it permanently. Blood sprayed across your face, warm and sticky as it settled on your skin, but there was no time to dwell on it.

Fumbling with the bandolier across your chest, you frantically grabbed at a bullet to reload your gun. "I didn't hear you coming up with anything," you retorted, eyes wide as another ghoul descended upon you with alarming speed, its ghastly form illuminated by the flickering lights of the vault.

It swiped at your outstretched arm, the gun flying from your grip and landing with a metallic clash against the steel floor. The ghoul lunged towards you with a guttural snarl, its rotten teeth gnashing dangerously close to your neck, and you fell backwards under it's weight in a surge of panic. Your heart pounded in your chest as you grappled with the creature, holding it inches away from your face, your hand pressing desperately against its corroded neck.

Salvation came in the form of a single bullet piercing through the air, entering and leaving the feral ghoul's skull in a clean strike. The creature's movements ceased abruptly, its lifeless form collapsing against your grip. You exhaled a shaky breath, relief flooding through you as you begun to push it away, its decaying remnants staining your body and the ground beneath you.

"Well, I'm damn sure it would have been better than this," the Ghoul remarked, his voice tinged with irritation as he kicked the lifeless body away from you. He turned his attention back to the remaining two feral ghouls, his gaze hardening with determination. "Fuckin' steel tomb. Don't know why I agreed to this," he muttered under his breath, raising his sawed off rifle at the closest enemy. 

Neither of you had been expecting the storm. After miles of trudging through the unforgiving desert, each step sinking into the soft grains like quicksand and your weary legs protesting with every movement, you had welcomed it. The sun's heat was relentless as it bore down upon you, slicking your skin with sweat as your lungs burned from the thick, humid air.

When the sky finally darkened, heavy storm clouds rolling ominously across the horizon, you had felt a sense of relief. The air crackled with a pulsing electricity, raising the hairs on your arms and sending shivers down your spine. You smiled, anticipating the rain against your hot skin, cooling it like a balm, but your glee ended when you followed the Ghoul's troubled gaze skyward. The once-promising clouds twisted into a menacing green hue, casting an eerie glow over the wasteland. As they churned and roiled overhead, you felt the Ghoul tug at your hand as you both fled.

You had struggled to keep pace with the Ghoul as he dragged you along the desert, his movements swift and determined despite the looming threat of the storm overhead. The sound of thunder grew louder with each passing moment, urging you forward towards the faint glimmer of hope on the horizon—the open blast door, rusted and weathered against the harsh backdrop of the desert rocks. Salvation.

"You didn't have much choice," you reminded him, now dusting yourself off as you rose to your feet and joined him at his side. With practiced ease, you reached for the pistol holstered at his hip, levelling it at the snarling feral ghoul before you. Without hesitation, you pulled the trigger, the blast tearing through the ghoul's face and sending it crashing to the ground.

"Not all of us are immune to radstorms," you continued, your voice firm as you glanced at him, a hint of a smile on your lips. "And you'd miss me too much."

With a grunt of acknowledgment, he dispatched the last remaining ghoul with a well-aimed shot to the head. As the echoes of gunfire faded, silence descended upon the hallway, the only sound a soft hum of electricity coursing through the ancient structure.

"Like a hole in the head," he muttered, his tone laced with grim amusement as he surveyed the aftermath of the encounter, slinging his rifle onto his back.

You rolled your eyes in response, holstering his gun back at his hip before bending to retrieve your own from where it had been flung during the scuffle with the feral ghoul. Blood smeared across your skin as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, blinking away the remnants of the encounter.

The Ghoul scrutinized you with a critical eye, flicking at a piece of rotten flesh that rested on your shoulder. It hit the ground with a wet splat. "You look like shit," he remarked bluntly, his tone devoid of any sugar-coating as he took in your dishevelled appearance. "Smell like it too."

A wry grin tugged at your lips despite the grim circumstances, looking down at your bloody clothes. "I don't think ghouls concern themselves with personal hygiene when they're rotting from the inside out," you quipped, attempting to lighten the mood, though you quickly fumbled to apologize when you saw his expression falter. "Not you, you're different."

He kicked at the corpse with a spurred boot, a hint of bitterness tainting his features. "Debateable," he muttered, his voice heavy with a weight you couldn't quite discern.

Before you could say anything, he urged you forward through the dim hallway, stepping over the dead as you pushed deeper into the belly of the vault.

"The backup generator is running, but barely" you informed him, eyeing the flickering lights overhead. "If we find an apartment close to the power room, it might have enough for a hot shower. I bet there's still an old tin of cram or two hanging around, too."

He chuckled teasingly, his voice echoing softly in the corridor. "Feeling at home, vaultie?" he asked, a hint of amusement colouring his words.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as you took in the familiar twists and turns of the Vault-Tec vault. It had been months since you left your own vault on a standard recon mission for the overseer. Memories of your first days outside the safety of your home flooded back, the naivety of not quite understanding your surroundings almost leading you to your demise. It was only through the intervention of the irradiated bounty hunter that you had been spared from certain death.

Despite the dangers of the wasteland, you had found a sense of belonging alongside the Ghoul, his gruff exterior belying a reluctant camaraderie that had formed between you. His initial frustration at your presence had given way to begrudging acceptance, and eventually, he had presented you with an ultimatum: he would guide you through the commonwealth in return for your assistance in retrieving his next batch of vials. What exactly your role would entail remained unclear, but you had agreed without hesitation, eager to repay the debt you owed him for saving your life.

"Let's try in here," you suggested, gesturing towards the apartment block as you led the way. Stopping at the first open door, you peered inside, finding the remnants of a life left behind. The apartment boasted a homely kitchen diner attached to an open-planned living room, but a thick layer of dust coated every surface, casting a sombre feeling over the once-vibrant space.

As you moved to step into the apartment, the Ghoul's gloved hand closed firmly around your wrist, halting your progress. "We should check on the storm," he advised, his tone cautious. "It could be passing quickly, and we don't want to waste valuable time."

"What's your hurry?" you chuckled, gently freeing your arm from his grip with a shake before venturing into the kitchen. "Don't tell me you couldn't go for a little home comfort or two," you teased over your shoulder, testing the tap and smiling when the first drops of water spurted from it. 

The Ghoul stepped warily into the apartment, his hand hovering near his holstered gun as he scanned the faded space with caution, his senses alert for any signs of danger. Meanwhile, you rummaged through the cupboards with a sense of determination, your movements swift and purposeful.

Suddenly, you let out a triumphant "Aha!" The Ghoul tensed slightly as he turned his attention to you. With a proud grin, you held up your findings for his inspection. "Can I interest you in a fine meal of BlamCo Mac and Cheese, Mr. Howard?"

Your playful tone brought a rare hint of amusement to the Ghoul's features, his guard momentarily lowered in the face of your infectious enthusiasm. With a weary but genuine smile, he nodded in agreement. "Well, vaultie, I suppose it's better than nothing," he conceded, allowing himself to relax ever so slightly in the comfort of the unfamiliar surroundings as he stepped closer to the table.

"Better than spending hours hunting for a glimpse of mole-rat meat, that's for sure," you remarked with a chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the quiet confines of the apartment. You opened the E-Z pour spout of the box, decanting two portions of BlamCo Mac and Cheese into the pan on the stove. You wished for milk instead of the tap water as you added it to the mix, a small pang of longing for the comforts of home stirring within you.

As you stirred the pot, you couldn't help but notice the Ghoul's watchful gaze lingering on you from behind. Turning to face him, you observed the subtle shift in his demeanour, a hint of awkwardness marring his usually confident exterior. "Why don't you sit down, make yourself comfortable," you suggested, nodding towards the dining table that stood between you. Despite his initial hesitation, you smiled warmly when he slowly took a seat.

As you observed the Ghoul sitting at the dining table, his posture tense and his demeanour uncertain, you couldn't help but feel a sense of role reversal between the two of you. Here he was, a seasoned survivor of the wasteland, seeming out of place and unsure in the remnants of a family home. It was a stark contrast to the confidence and expertise he showed whilst guiding you on the surface.

Now, it was your turn to lead him through unfamiliar territory, to offer him a glimpse of normalcy amidst the chaos he'd known for so many years.

You served the steaming meal into two bowls you had found in the cupboard above, placing them gently on the table before the Ghoul as you settled into your seat opposite him. As he picked up his spoon and began to eat, you couldn't help but watch him with a soft affection.

He grunted in acknowledgment, a reluctant expression of gratitude escaping his scarred lips before he dug into the hot offering before him. You observed with a warm smile as he paused mid-mouthful, savouring the cheesy flavour that filled the air, his expression shifting to one of satisfaction as he gave an affirming nod.

"Not half bad," he said, then glanced at you with a glint in his eye. "Could do with a little rat meat."

You shook your head at his joke, savouring the familiar taste of the mac and cheese as you tucked into your own meal. A comfortable silence settled between you both as you ate, the only sound in the room the gentle clinking of spoons against ceramic.

Once he had finished his meal, the Ghoul leaned back in his chair, rubbing comically at his stomach as he glanced over at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight, the juxtaposition of this rugged, irradiated cowboy against the backdrop of a once-cozy family home amusing to you.

"You ever see yourself in a place like this?" you asked, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward, your elbow propped up on the table.

"Sweetheart, there ain't no place like this," he replied, gesturing around the room with a sweep of his hand. "This ain't real, just a lie sold to gullible folk who were desperate not to go out with the end of the world."

"I don't know," you countered, a hint of defiance in your voice. "Feels pretty real to me."

He shook his head condescendingly, a familiar tone creeping into his words. "That's 'cause you were raised by the machine," he said, his gaze steady as he met your eyes. "Reality is, you don't know your ass from your elbow."

You laughed softly, the tension easing from your shoulders as you shook your head in amusement. "Maybe not, but I think this, real or not, might be nice for just one night."

He considered your suggestion, his mouth pulling into a tight grimace as he followed your gaze to the far corner of the room where a door led into a fair-sized bedroom. From your vantage point, the queen-sized bed seemed to call out to you, promising a rare moment of comfort and respite that you hadn't felt since leaving your vault.

His expression softened as he caught the gleam of longing in your eye. "I suppose, just one night," he conceded, his tone gruff but his reluctance tinged with a hint of warmth. "You gonna wash that stink off before diving into that thing?"

You grinned at his teasing remark, then gestured to the remnants of feral ghoul clinging to his own body. "I'm not the only one who needs a shower," you pointed out with a playful smirk. "You're not getting in that bed without one."

He chuckled, his gaze momentarily dropping before meeting yours once more. "I'm taking the couch," he declared.

Your smile faltered, disappointment evident on your face as you glanced over to the dusty couch. In your eagerness for a moment of normalcy, you had momentarily forgotten the harsh reality of your situation—the boundaries that existed between you and your companion.

"I think you'd like the bed much better," you suggested tentatively, but he shook his head in refusal when you looked back at him.

"You gonna make me tell you again?" he asked, his tone firm with warning.

Memories of a recent encounter flooded your mind. Just days ago, in the chill of the night, you had sought comfort in his warmth, curling up behind him on his bedroll in a desperate attempt to stave off the cold wind that whipped through the open shelter you had found. Of course it wasn't the only reason you had crossed that line, but you told yourself otherwise.

At first, he had stirred slowly, his initial reaction one of sleep-hazed confusion, but realization settled on him at the touch of your hand on his back. He had pushed you away, demanding to know what had gotten into you, banishing you back to your own bedroll, and in the morning he had made it clear that it was not to happen again—that you needed to get your head on straight.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to the reality of the situation. Memories of the ease of intimacy in your vault flooded your mind—the shared moments of mutual gratification with fellow residents that had once been commonplace. But on the surface, such connections seemed few and far between, leaving you feeling isolated and starved for physical affection.

Despite your initial recoil at the sight of the Ghoul, a newfound curiosity had begun to stir within you—a longing for the touch of another, of his rough hands, weathered by the harshness of the wasteland, tracing patterns across your flesh. It filled you with a heady mixture of excitement and apprehension. The mere thought of it sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that you struggled to suppress. 

And yet, here you both were—plucked from your shared reality and forced to remain in this abandoned apartment until the radstorm had passed.

The confines of the room seemed to shrink around you as the tension between you and the Ghoul hung heavy in the air. Each passing moment only served to heighten the palpable desire that simmered beneath the surface.

"I'm going to wash this off," you announced, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart, as you rose from your seat and fixed your gaze on him. "You're right, none of this is real. Tomorrow is a new day, so what happens tonight is insignificant."

Before you could falter, you turned away and made your way to the bedroom where the en suite was located. Your skin burned at the implication of your words, at the possibility that he might ignore you and leave you feeling empty and alone in the harsh light of the morning after.

With each step, you braced yourself for rejection, for the inevitable fallout that awaited. But as you reached the door of the bathroom, a sliver of hope flickered within you—a small glimmer of possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, the barriers between you could be broken down, if only for a fleeting moment in time.

Stepping into the shower, the hot water cascaded down on you, enveloping your naked skin in a welcomed embrace. With each drop, the dirt and grime of the wasteland melted away, leaving you feeling refreshed and renewed. Lost in the bliss of the water, you didn't hear the door slide open behind you until the Ghoul's deep voice cut through the steam.

"You missed a spot," he remarked, and you jumped, turning to face him with your arms instinctively crossing over your chest. Your heart raced as his darkened eyes roamed your body, their intensity sending a flush of heat rushing to your cheeks.

"Think you can get it, Cooper?" you asked after a pause, the challenge evident in your tone as you dared him to come closer, to see just how far he was willing to go now that he had stepped foot in the bathroom and laid eyes on your naked form. He shifted, making to step into the shower, but you stopped him with a hand pressed against his clothed chest.

"You're still dressed," you pointed out, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes as you gestured to his attire. His bandolier and hat lay discarded on the countertop behind him, both guns resting in their respective holsters beside your own.

With a resigned sigh, he shrugged out of his heavy duster and let it fall to the ground, the weight of his armour leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. But before he could make another move, you stopped him once more, your hand halting his progress as you met his gaze with determination.

"The clothes ain't coming off," he muttered, his tone gruff with a hint of defiance. "Take it or leave it."

For a moment, you hesitated, weighing your options as you stared into his eyes, searching for any sign of vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior. And then, with a silent nod of understanding, you stepped aside, allowing him to join you beneath the comforting spray of the shower, the barriers between you slowly beginning to crumble in the warmth of the water. 

His frame took up the rest of the space, looming over you as you dropped your arm from your chest, exposing yourself to him fully. With a sharp intake of breath, he devoured you with his gaze, his eyes darkening with a mix of hunger and hesitation. The steam swirled around you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy that felt separate from the harsh realities outside.

You reached for his gloved hand, your fingers trembling slightly as you lifted it and guided it to your breast. The sensation of the rough leather against your skin sent a shiver through you, your eyes never leaving his as you encouraged him to touch you.

For a moment, he remained still, his eyes searching yours as if seeking permission one last time. Then, with a slow exhale, he closed his hand around your breast, the pressure firm but careful, as if afraid to break the fragile connection forming between you.

His thumb brushed over your nipple, the leather cool and abrasive against your sensitive skin. A gasp escaped your lips, your body arching into his touch as desire flared within you. His eyes, still locked on yours, softened with a mix of awe and uncertainty, the vulnerability beneath his hardened exterior laid bare in the steamy haze of the shower.

You wondered if, during the centuries he had roamed the wasteland, he had ever experienced this intimacy. Had he taken a lover? Had he sought solace in another's arms, despite the shame that made him hesitant to do so? You wondered if he had felt the soft, smooth skin of a woman since being transformed into this stoic, dangerous mutation, and it made you determined to give him the comfort you felt he so desperately needed.

Emboldened by his touch, you leaned closer, pressing your body against his clothed form, feeling the heat radiating from him even through the layers of damp fabric. Your hands moved to his shoulders, sliding down his arms as you whispered, "You won't break me."

He paused, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "What if I want to?" he asked, his voice low and searching. His gaze bore into yours, seeking an answer.

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken longing and raw vulnerability. This was as open and honest as he had ever been with you, his desires laid bare for the first time. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the struggle between the hardened exterior he presented to the world and the tender emotions he kept hidden away.

"Go ahead," you said softly, your voice trembling with anticipation and the weight of your own feelings. You pressed a hand against the hardness of his clothed cock, squeezed gently as if urging him on.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both delicate and demanding. His hands moved over your body, exploring and caressing with a reverence that took your breath away.

Suddenly, you were pushed backwards against the cold tiles of the shower cubicle, his body consumed you as his lips left yours to nip and suck at your neck before moving fervently down to your breasts. You gasped when his teeth grazed your nipple, your hands resting on his shoulders, holding him closer to you. His own hands clawed at your thighs, lifting one leg to rest on his hip as you reached for his belt buckle. He gritted his teeth, anticipating your touch. You undid it slowly, your hand grazing his clothed abdomen before sliding down to squeeze his cock.

"Fuck," he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with desire. You could feel his hardness pulsing against your palm, its size and thickness surprising you, sending a surge of excitement to your core. His textured skin pressed against yours, igniting a shiver of anticipation at the thought of him inside you. With a tentative thrust, he tested your grasp, letting out a guttural moan when you responded with a tug.

You guided his cock to your entrance, teasingly tracing the tip along your slick folds. The air crackled between you, every touch, every movement igniting the tension. He claimed your lips in a fierce kiss, teeth clashing as he effortlessly lifted you with practiced skill. Legs wrapped around his waist, you held onto him tightly as he pushed into you. You felt overwhelmed you as your walls stretched to accommodate him, a fiery sensation coursing through you as he filled you completely.

For a moment, you both stilled in the intensity of the connection, breathlessly panting in the humid air. Then, with a slow, deliberate rhythm, he began to move, his thrusts deep and forceful, each one igniting waves of pleasure that surged through you.

His gloved hands kneaded and squeezed at the soft flesh of your behind, his head dropped into the crook of your neck again as his licked and sucked the skin raw. Your fingers slid between your bodies, tugged at the buttons of his wet shirt in a vain attempt to feel him against you. He grunted, pulled back from your neck with a scolding look as he slapped your hand away.

"I just want to feel you, Coop," you told him, voice tainted with a whine.

"You're feeling me just fine," he said, his voice low, as he thrust his hips deeply, pushing his cock further inside you. Tears welled in your eyes from the stretch, and you leaned your head back against the tiles while he smirked. "Just fine."

You yielded, deciding that if this was how he chose to give himself to you, then you'd accept it willingly.

He took your silence as obedience, thrusting into you forcefully, driving his cock to the hilt over and over. You moaned as your body responded, clenching around him, your eyes squeezed shut. With a smirk, he pulled back slightly, his gaze fixated on the point where your bodies joined, observing intently as he continued to pound into you with a steady, unyielding pace.

A gasp escaped your lips as his hand slid between you, his fingers encased in leather, pinching your clit with a pleasurable pain that sent waves of sensation through your body. The coil of tension inside you tightened, your muscles yearning for release as he expertly flicked and rubbed at the sensitive bud.

Your nails dug into his shoulder, leaving marks on the leather vest as you thrashed against him. His eyes, now dark pools of desire, remained fixed on your hungry cunt enveloping him as you matched his relentless rhythm. With each bounce, your bodies collided, igniting a primal passion between you and driving you both towards the brink of ecstasy.

Your orgasm ripped through you with a cry of his name, intense and all consuming, stealing your breath as your muscles clenched around him and your juices flowed over his throbbing shaft. 

His fingers continued their assault on your sensitive clit, relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. He fucked into you mercilessly, seeing you through to the end of your release before focusing on his own. His primal grunts filled the air as his hips faltered, and you seized him in a bruising kiss, your hand wet against his warm cheek, sucking at his tongue with desperate need to convey your bliss.

You felt him begin to pull away, and in a panic you tightened the hold you had around him, your legs locking almost painfully around his waist as he tore his lips from yours.

"I can't," he panted, desperately trying to pry you from him as he stopped his movements, but you grinded down onto him, imploring him to continue with a moan. "Fuck, don't make me."

A second passed and then as if succumbing to a battle of his own will, his hips resumed their  painful snapping motion, driving his cock deep inside you with a frantic pace. Then, they faltered, stuttering, and he pinned you hard against the tiles as he came inside your swollen cunt with an animalistic growl.

With his face buried in your neck, you held him close, your hands gently stroking his back, as the last spasms of his release faded. His warm load filled you completely, trailing down the inside of your thigh.

The small space fell back into silence, void of the rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin, now filled only with the heavy breaths from both of you and the trickling of the water that had long since chilled and ceased to flow. His hands moved to your thighs, roughly prying your legs from around him and lowering you back to the floor with a finality. His softening cock slipped out of you, leaving you empty and sore, eager to feel it again.

He avoided your gaze, busying himself with tucking himself back into his pants and adjusting the damp fabric before turning to leave the cubicle. You reached out, attempting to hold him back by grasping his bicep, but his eyes remained fixed on the wall ahead.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" you asked, trying to inject a hint of levity into the heavy atmosphere, but he only grunted in response, pulling his arm away from your grip.

"Get some sleep, we leave at first light," he ordered, swiftly gathering his discarded belongings before exiting the bathroom.

A chill settled over you as you tried to steady your shaky breath. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you walked into the bedroom, feeling a mix of disappointment and resignation when you saw the Ghoul had retreated to the living room. Damp and regretful, he had chosen the dusty couch over spending the night with you.

With a sigh, you approached the bed and picked up the bottle left for you on the spread. The red and yellow capsules clinked against the rust-coloured glass, the chemical smell of the Rad-x filling the air as you unscrewed the lid. It was naïve to expect anything more than an awkward departure after what had happened between you, yet you couldn't shake the heavy pit of defeat that settled in your stomach, despite your earlier promise to him.

What happens tonight is insignificant.

[cryptid-ghoulette]

Day two - hiding an illness/injury

Its copias turn to suffer this time.

Big thanks to @cirrus-ghoulette for organizing whumpmonth!

(Written entirely for @sister-nyx who is the best)

Contains - fainting, descriptions of depression both mental and physical.

WC - 745

It was no secret that Copia was a man of a nervous disposition, his brain always working a million miles an hour, desperate to prove himself worthy of the title he had been bestowed. Burning the candle at both ends seemed to be the only way he knew how to live; the idea of letting anyone down was too much for him to possibly even entertain.

His heart was soft, and his mind could be so cruel to him, whispering poisonous thoughts in the quiet moments. It didn’t matter if he knew they weren’t true; he could only fight his own mind for so long until he was too tired, his heart bruised, and his nerves frayed.

But the world doesn’t stop for one broken-feeling man. There were tasks to complete. A role to fill. Ghouls and siblings alike to tend to. So, he painted the black around his eyes as usual each morning, thankful for the easy way to hide the increasing dark circles, and donned his flowing robes to cover the bruises spreading across his limbs like watercolour paint splatters

He busied himself, cooped up in his office, the cramped space feeling more and more like a tomb as the days crept into weeks. He silently haunted the hallways between meetings, avoiding the lingering and concerned gazes of his ghouls. They all tried to reach out, letting him know they were worried and wanting to pull him back from wherever his mind had trapped him. But their pleas fell on deaf ears; he only ever assured them he was fine and they needn’t worry about him.

It was mid-afternoon when the sudden buzz of his phone against the wood of his desk startled him awake. The lack of sleep was catching up to him, and the small screen light made his eyes squint in discomfort. A message from Mountain—a shaking hand desperately reaching across the seemingly endless chasm separating them.

“You should come to the greenhouse; some fresh air and a warm cup of tea would do you well, my friend.”

He felt something akin to hope trying to break through the suffocating darkness, a small warmth nestled in the depths of his heart. He followed that warmth all the way to its source, leaving his office for the first time in several days. The cool breeze outside seemed to nudge his tired body across the courtyard to where Mountain was waiting for him.

Mountain’s stomach dropped when he finally got a good look at the man he knew so well standing in his doorway. Dark shadows clung to the hollows of his cheeks, and despite his best efforts, the paint around his eyes couldn’t hide the bone-deep exhaustion or how his lip began to quiver at the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder.

The lump in Copia’s throat grew, the pit in his stomach threatened to swallow him whole as everything around him started to spin, his vision blurring before his knees gave out, his body going limp, collapsing to the dirt-covered floor with a dull thud. Mountain rushed over, lifting him onto his lap, his shaking hands hovering over the fragile body, unsure where to place them. So quiet. So still. He felt sick.

Mountain stayed on the ground, not knowing how much time had passed, cradling the smaller man, stroking his hairline with such reverence, whispering pleas to whoever was listening. Mismatched eyes eventually fluttered open and met his emerald ones, mountain leaned down, quivering lips pressing against a sweat-soaked forehead.

“You know you’re not alone,” his voice was small, barely above a whisper. Copia’s head was fuzzy, his vision still not in focus, not entirely sure what happened but mountains voice was comforting, his large hands wrapping around his own.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he felt like he’d swallowed cotton wool, mouth dry and his tongue foreign feeling. Copia swallowed hard, fighting the dryness in his throat, managing to croak out a barely audible “mi dispiace, petalo” before letting out a pained sob, curling into himself, letting mountain wrap his arms around him, his mind the quietest it has been in weeks.

Mount knew a conversation would need to be had, things would need to be said that no one wanted to give a voice to, but that didn’t matter right now. For now, copia was content to finally fall apart, knowing mountain would be there to put him back together with gentle hands.

[v-ternus]

MUSHY MAY TIME WHOOP WHOOP

Stellar prompts form @forlorn-crows. I cant wait to write about more of them.

im so excited. i havent written in a good, long sec

Day 1-- Cuteness Aggression

MountainDew baby... 700 words of MountainDew below the cut :))))

Mountain hates chores. He’ll never admit it to any of the other ghouls, forever wanting to keep up the image of the oh so serious ghoul. But he loathes the days full of work that isn't in the greenhouse. Today is different though. He’s at the sink washing the dishes from lunch when a certain fun sized ghoul jumps on his back. He’s more than happy to drop the plate and sponge in his hand. 

“What the fu–” He yelps, caught off guard by the weight of Dew knocking his hips into the marble counter. 

“Hi big boy” His voice is gravely, dripping of the sleep that made him miss both breakfast and lunch. He wiggles his grip, wrapping his legs around Mountain’s slight waist and holding himself up by his arms snug around broad shoulders. Their size difference is already so noticeable–during bows on stage, band photo ops, and especially during the late nights they spend wrapped up in each other, not knowing where one ends and the other begins. They both love it, even though it used to get under Dew’s skin to the point of self-hatred. 

In the pit, being small meant being a target. Combine that with being a water ghoul, it was a recipe for disaster. But up here, on Earth with a human vessel he’s found a home in, he doesn't worry so much. Especially with the way Mountain looks at him, the way he always indulges in their glaring difference in stature. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, little spider monkey?” Mountain says as he takes off his wet gloves, turning his head back, angling for a kiss that Dew meets him with. It's slow, easy, and exactly what he needs to take his mind off of the mile long list of chores left for him to handle. But as nice as it is, it's an uncomfortable angle. He reaches his hands back to try and move Dew but is met by a low growl, playful, non-threatening. It makes him laugh, a soft chuckle against even softer lips.

Mountain really starts to wonder what’s going on. And almost like he was reading his mind, Dew answers his unspoken question. 

“Nothing’s up Mount, you’re just–” His words, cut off by him nuzzling into his soft curls and the top of Mountain’s neck, are punctuated with a tight squeeze from his lithe limbs. It’s not like he’s a boa constrictor, but Mountain would be lying if he said it didn't wring out a little more air that he’d like. As rare as Dew is calm, it's even rarer that he’s clingy like this. He’ll press himself up to the curve of Mountain’s back when they sleep, tangle their limbs up, but rarely like this. Unprompted. 

“Need you to finish your sentence there Dewy” Dew huffs, warm breath ghosting over the forming goose bumps along Mountain’s neck. 

“Wanna stay here” His grip gets tighter and it makes Mountain feel warm. “Too cute”

“Are you having that puppy thing with me Dew?” Dew hums, confused.

“That thing… when you see a puppy or a kitten or whatever, and it’s so cute that you wanna squeeze it. Bite it. The youth these days call it ‘cuteness aggression’”

Dew’s lips turn up into the cheesiest grin, human brain shutting off once his hellbeast mind hears ‘bite’. He mumbles a quick maybe and brings his mouth back to Mountain’s neck. This time, finding some flesh to hold between his teeth. Not enough pressure to pierce his skin or hurt, just to hold. Mountain’s stomach swoops with every gentle shift of Dew’s jaw. It's nice he thinks, especially nicer than doing chores too.  The little ghoul continues his onslaught, picking new spots and alternating between biting and worrying sun-kissed skin. Mountain gets lost in the tight feeling around his torso and the soft nibbles around his neck. So lost, that he almost forgets he’s standing. His balance shifts and it's the shortest millisecond but it's enough to shake Dew. He squeezes tighter, whining right in Mountain’s ear. Don't drop us, don't fall with me still on your damn back. He leans forward and mumbles an apology before anchoring his arms under Dew's legs.

He’ll feel this in the morning, the strain in his already bad back. He’ll whine about the ache, but Dew will be there to fix him. That’s a problem for tomorrow’s Mountain. For now, he’ll let himself be squeezed and nibbled on until Dew gets his fill.

[tg-pilled]

Inspired by moot @backgroundcharacterno15

Tokyo Ghoul characters as embarrassing things I have done or that have happened to me!

Shirazu - Walked through the library near a large group of students and let out an explosive fart that was SUPER loud and EVERYONE turned to look at me so I blamed it on my boots

Saiko - Wore pants that were too small and my shoelaces got tangled in the hooks of my boots and I tripped and fell and pantsed myself on accident in the middle of a crowded walkway at school

Amon - Dislocated my arm while swimming but continued swimming because whenever people talked about "FEEL THE BURN" I thought that's what they meant

Hide - Naruto ran in middle school during the mile.

Uta - Dressed up as Dan Howell during school. Cat whiskers and all. There wasn't even a school spirit day, it was just me.

Hinami - Walked into a glass door because I thought it would slide open

Tooru - Tripped and scraped my cheek open on my desk and now has a scar there (this is recent 😭)

Amon because he gives off rancid misogynist vibes idk why - Made an OC named 'Christian' who was described as a feminist but also hated when women wore shorter clothing or showed skin 😭 (these were written in the notes next to him) ((not my proudest moment, I have healed. I was deep in my afab annoying Catholic girl era who shoved religion down everyone's throats))

Tooru - The bus I was riding got into a minor accident and I was the only one on so they let me go after checking for injuries and as soon as I left I slipped on wet leaves and twisted my ankle

Rize - My really pretty and super nice neighbour got mail for a previous resident of my apartment and when she brought it over, I over explained and told her "Well she doesn't live here now but I mean I do but it's not my mail so I mean like yeah" and she just laughed and said "Yeah I know someone lives here since you're here." And then she complimented my hair and left and I have not stopped thinking about how embarrassing that was.

Renji - I got pulled over for taking a left turn in a not left turn lane

Juuzou - Got in trouble for speaking in the hallway and was absolutely HUMILIATED by the substitute we had and in my middle school if you got in trouble with a substitute you got automatic detention so I skipped school the next day so I wouldn't get detention

These are all I can think of for now. Some of these are just vibes and others are like. The character definitely did this.

[the-hole-in-terzos-shoe]

When a Paradise is Lost

Papa Emeritus IV x Fem!Reader, mentions of Papa Emeritus III x Fem!Reader (18+ ONLY, MDNI)

TW: this thing is angsty, death, pregnancy, pregnancy loss, grief, and of course smut.

Word Count: 13.4k

Hey Ghesties... It's finally here ❤️ I was hoping to have this out about 2 days ago, but life has inevitably happened. It's been a great escape working on this though. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it! I've written in the past for other fandoms but this is my first big boy story for Ghost, so please feel free to drop constructive criticism if there's any way I can make future stories more immersive. Okay, I leave you alone now, love you, bye! Enjoy 😉

Silence fell over the chapel as the head of the church apathetically entered through the heavy wooden doors. Even Sister Imperator froze mid sentence upon seeing him.

No one, save for a few of his closest ghouls, had seen Copia since that tragic night. The whole abbey felt very melancholy in the days following, and with no Emeritus progeny left, Sister Imperator had no choice but to take over some of Papa's duties, including leading mass, like she was now.

Paint clearly brushed on haphazardly and not doing a great job of hiding the red puffiness around his eyes, he stalked up the main aisle between pews, only stopping when Sister called to him by his nickname, "𝘊?"

Keeping his chin down but moving his eyes to look at her, he replies, "Please continue, Sister," before turning his eyes back towards the floor and moving to his intended destination: the open spot next to you.

Sister Imperator, who rarely ever hesitates, calmly tries to keep going with her lecture on the fight against corruption. A subject that frankly felt out of touch in this moment in the ministry, but it was probably in an attempt to take everyone's mind off of what had happened.

Not wanting to make a spectacle of your Papa seated next to you, you quickly peek at him out of the corner of your eye. He simply stared blankly straight ahead. Perhaps he thought it would look like he was listening, but he was clearly a million miles away. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦? You had only encountered Copia typically in formal settings or on the days that you hung on Terzo's arm while strolling the grand halls of the abbey. Perhaps it was the only open seat he saw, but it seemed more directed than that, to you at least. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦?

Lost in your thoughts, you almost don't hear the whisper that squeaks from his sore vocal chords. You turn your attention to him, eyebrows upturned with worry, "yes, Papa?"

"How-" his lip quivers, "h-how did you deal with it? How did you handle... this pain?" Still staring blankly ahead, a tear falls down his cheek.

Instantly searching your pocket for a handkerchief, you now understand what he's come to you for. You've had to admit to yourself that Copia's loss reminded you of your own, bringing up a flood of memories of the days, weeks, months after Terzo was killed. You're unfortunately all too familiar with what the antipope must be feeling after losing his own Prime Mover.

Just days prior, the ministry bubbled with excitement over the prospect of the newest member of the Emeritus bloodline arriving soon. Copia's Prime Mover could be seen wandering the halls, hand on her swollen belly, surrounded by ghouls and handmaidens who had been tasked with protecting her and keeping her as comfortable as possible, respectively. She really was a brilliant woman. Everyone liked her, as it was hard not to find her charming, and she brought out the best in her Papa. It made everyone immensely happy.

Naturally, it hit everyone very hard when news travelled that her labors had turned fatal for both her and the baby.

Now here you are, faced with a grieving man, asking you an unanswerable question. Gently, you bring the handkerchief you'd finally found to his cheek. For a moment, he furrows his brows as if he's angry and doesn't like you so close to him, so you make quick work of touching him up before giving him the only honest answer that comes to your mind: "There's no right way to deal with it. It's just important that you do deal with it; don't push the feelings down, but face them straight on."

He stares blankly again for a long time, before moving his eyes to look at you. His face softens, eyebrows quirking up, as he meets your gaze. "Grazie, Sorella," barely came as a whisper, before he turns his eyes back to the stained glass window at the front of the room.

He sits right there, unmoving, as mass ends and Siblings and ghouls quietly shuffle out, not wanting to disturb their Papa. As the room empties, you're unsure whether you should stay or go; clearly he had been seeking you out and you don't want to abandon him in his time of need. Even though he sits in silence, you can see the storm raging behind his eyes, the hurt in his heart from losing his love.

"Would you like company, Papa?" you gingerly ask.

"Sì. I would like that very much."

And so you sit with him in the chapel in silence as his mind races. It isn't much, but you know how lonely that feeling is, and how sometimes just having someone nearby can help ease that, if only a little.

• • •

There was no feeling in the world like being loved by Terzo.

He could make anyone feel important, as if they were the only one that ever mattered to him, just by talking with him. You reflect on just how important you felt when he lifted that veil from your visage and closed the space between your lips, making you 𝘩𝘪𝘴, forever, in the eyes of Satan, and before the eyes of all members of the ministry piled into the chapel that had started to feel like home. But not as much as 𝘩𝘦 felt like home.

As he twirled you on the dance floor at the reception of your Prime Mover ritual, you'd never felt so safe as you did in his arms. The promise of forever on his lips whispered softly into your ear. But that forever was cut short, sooner than you ever could've imagined.

• • •

A couple days later, as you're messily shuffling through papers that Sister Imperator was breathing down your neck about, a Ghoul sneaks up on you to request your presence in the papal suite. You aren't as familiar with Copia's group of Ghouls as you had been with Terzo's, but you can tell through the dark goggles of his mask that he seems a little nervous. Something must be wrong.

You quickly grab the arm of the Ghoul, muscle memory taking over as you walk hurriedly towards the space that once was so familiar to you. You haven't seen it in years...

You're quickly met with a "Sorella-" after a frantic knock on the door, "are you alright? It was not my intention to worry you." He grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles gently. He looks a lot better than he had in the chapel, but still not fully pieced back together; frankly, he never would be, and you knew this from experience.

He turns to the Ghoul, "Thank you for guiding the Stellina here safely."

"Uhhh..." he mumbles and tenses up, scratching the back of his neck with his finger tips, "It was more like she guided me," he chuckles nervously.

A small smile of realization crosses Copia's face, "Of course she did." It hadn't previously crossed his mind that you once lived here.

The Ghoul turns to leave, as Copia invites you inside. It looks very different than it had all those years ago. It hasn't lost it's elegance since you and Terzo resided here, but all the decor is much more elaborate now.

You chuckle at the memory of Terzo essentially just wanting to throw black silk on everything and calling it a day. "𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦... 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘰 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘰." Satanas, even the memory of him could make you blush.

"Everything okie dokie?" Copia snaps you out of your thoughts; you must've been just staring blankly and smiling like an idiot.

"Oh- yes, it just all looks so different. Everything's all moved around." You surely look like a deer caught in headlights.

"Is it to your disliking?" Copia is such a considerate man, almost to a fault; naturally he would be concerned if a guest didn't like his quarters.

"No! No, not at all. It's just..." you look up at the ceiling trying to find the right word so as not to cause him more concern.

"Unfamiliar, sì?"

"Yes, unfamiliar," your eyes drop from the ceiling to finally meet his, full of kindness, but still red and puffy.

"Please, sit," he motions to the sofa that faces the marble fireplace; at least that still looks the same, although you suppose it would be a lot of work to replace all that marble.

Taking a seat beside you, Copia startes to fiddle with the tea glasses on the coffee table in front of you, "Would you like some, topolino?"

You let out a giggle at the nickname, appropriate considering his obsession with his pet rats. "Please, Papa."

"Oh, please, no need to call me Papa; I remember the days when I was just a cardinal to you... but that's enough reminiscing for now; I have a few things I wanted to discuss with you- or uhhh, just say to you really." He hands you a little cup of tea, having added a swirl of honey to it; you aren't sure what kind it was, but it's good. "Let me start by apologizing for pulling you away from your duties in the main offices," he gently squeezes your hand, "I know Seestor already has so much on her plate with everyone in mourning, especially having to see to my tasks, and now I've taken one of her best workers away for a little while. I'm sure she'll be frustrated," he sighs, seemingly in regret; he doesn't want to get you in trouble.

Now it's your turn to squeeze his hand, reassuring him, "It's 𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦," you start, imitating him, "I can handle her."

He sips his tea and makes eye contact with you. For a moment it looks like tears threaten to build up in his mismatched eyes, the pain of loss clearly still fresh on him. You know how quickly it could bubble up, seemingly out of nowhere, while talking about things somewhat unrelated. But that was the thing about death hitting so close to home: it made everything related to it; every thought was about them, every little thing would remind you of them.

"Thank you..." It comes out as a whisper as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clearly trying to maintain composure. "I'm just so tired of crying. Sometimes I think I've run out of tears, but then somehow, more come." You sit with him patiently until he's ready to talk again.

In the silence your eyes drift back to the room, scanning over the beaded black lace of the bed canopy, the lush deep blue rug on the floor with metallic gold trim, the collection of art glass vases-

"Sorella." It comes out bluntly. Maybe you hadn't heard him the first time he tried to speak.

"Hm? I'm sorry- um, yes Papa?" you fumble over your words.

The tiniest smile tugs at the corners of his painted lips, "Sorella, I also wanted to thank you."

The deer-caught-in-headlights look is back, "What for?"

He puts his tea cup down and fidgets with his hands, looking down at them. "Throughout the last weeks, you're the only one that's been honest with me. Everyone else-" he chokes up for a moment, but pulls it back together, "everyone else just looks at me with pity, horror in their eyes because they can't imagine it happening to them." He grabs your tea cup, setting it down, and turns to face you, taking both of your hands in his. "That's why I knew I had to seek out someone who would understand, someone who wouldn't cry just because I was, someone who wasn't trying to sympathise with this... unimaginable feeling. It had to be real. It had to be you, Stellina."

You're taken aback. You had no idea how much your words would have affected him when you spoke them in the chapel. Of course, you had no one to turn to when you had been in Copia's shoes. At the time that the Emeritus brothers were killed, Primo's Prime Mover had long since passed, and Secondo's, stubborn as he was, ran off out of anger. You were the only connection left to their bloodline, and you hadn't even had the chance to provide Terzo with an hier. In that way, Copia's experience differs from yours; at least he has someone to talk to who understands the grief.

He continues, "I know we never had any deep conversation before they took Terzo away from you, and I've done horribly at keeping touch with you since becoming Papa; that wasn't fair to you, cara, I'm sure it only made you feel more isolated; that's why I appreciate your, ahhh... willingness to accept me. And my grief. I know it must be a lot-"

"Copia," you whisper, stopping him from rambling, "it's okay." You cup his cheek in your hand. "Or 𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦, rather," you give him a warm smile, and get a laugh in return. "Now, was that all you brought me down here for?"

"Um, sì," he replies with a cringe, realizing maybe he shouldn't have pulled you away from work just to talk.

"Ahhh, using your Papa power just to get what you want, huh? Some things never change," you laugh as well.

For the first time in a long time, Copia calls you by your name, grabbing your hand again, "Please stay."

• • •

Although it was now late in the afternoon, you're back in the office to at least sort out some papers, getting your things in order to work hard tomorrow. You'll have a lot to catch up on since you'd practically taken the whole day off.

You don't regret it though. You knew Copia needed to get some things off his chest, so you simply sat with him again, but this time you talked--a lot. Everything from reflecting on old times, listening as you shared little secrets about Terzo that no one knew, laughing about goofy memories or things you never knew you had in common, all the way to literally being a shoulder to cry on. Papa still has a lot of feelings to feel and you're just trying to be there for him; based on his little speech earlier, he needs it.

"And where have you been sneaking off to?"

Imperator. It comes across cold and unforgiving.

"I'm sorry, Sister Imperator, it won't happen again."

"Hm. You say that now, but I remember how you are when you start seeing somebody. You'll be my best worker, until you find a distraction."

"Sister, please. You know I apologized for that." She was referring to the times when you started seeing Terzo, and again when you briefly were seeing someone to try to get over losing him. "You know how grateful I am that you let me have this job back." After you were no longer a Prime Mover, the clergy didn't know what to do with you. They weren't sure if you would get angry like Secondo's lady, and they needed Copia's transition to power to be as smooth as possible.

"Well perhaps if you kept your head in your paperwork, we wouldn't be struggling as much as we are to keep up the pace of things around here."

"Sister. You know very well why we're struggling. Papa losing his Prime Mover hasn't been easy on anyone in the ministry, least of all him. He's broken! At least I'm trying to help put the pieces back together!" You may have kind of yelled that last part, but damn is this woman hard to put up with.

"What was that? How would you know how he feels?" Her voice is softer than before with a touch of concern.

"Now you know where I was all day. He summoned me to his chambers."

"Oh. Well. I suppose if Cardi- I mean, Papa wants to see you, then I suppose I can't argue with our figure head." The only thing in the world she has a soft spot for is Copia; she'll protect him however she can.

As you dismiss yourself from the offices, Imperator stands there, frozen to the spot. That same part of her that wants to protect him from the feelings he's having also wants to protect him from you. She worries what you could do to usurp the power she has not only over the ministry, but over her Copia as well. (It's called enmeshment babes 💅✨)

• • •

Your meetings with Copia continue on for several weeks, often with the rollercoaster of emotions that he feels each time you met: release of sadness, laughter, comfortable silence, caring. You really start to care for him not only as the Papa of this ministry but as a person. It kind of makes you feel silly for not getting to know him better before, maybe then you would've had a friend after Terzo left you.

The thought made your eyes wander over to the bed, again. It often caught your attention; it was only of the only things that was still in the same place you and your beloved had yours.

"𝘈𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦..."

"𝘠𝘦𝘴?" 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰'𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘬 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘣𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴.

"𝘐𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘰 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦... 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘰, 𝘴𝘪?"

"𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦," 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

"Non ti lascerò mai. Nemmeno lo stesso Lucifero potrebbe tenermi lontano da te." 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

It was a promise he couldn't keep.

"Cara?"

Once again, Copia pulls you from your thoughts. You were unaware tears had welled up in your eyes as you stared at the bed, lost in a different time. As you turn to face him, your tearducts betray you and tears spill down your cheeks.

"Oh, no no no no no.... Stellina, you're always the strong one," he says pulling you to him, your forehead cradling against his neck and hands finding his chest. "What's gotten to you, piccolina?"

His endless stream of pet names did attempt to soothe you, but in the end your feelings won. In that moment, you realize it had been a long time since you'd let it all out, which is exactly what you'd been encouraging him to do. Funny how you didn't take your own advice. You harshly sob into his chest for a few minutes, hands balling his shirt up into fists. He feels solid like a brick wall for you, supporting you, letting you beat your fists against him in frustration until you calm down, although it's more that you tired out honestly.

One arm around your waist and the other hand cradling the back of your head, he holds you tightly to him. He wants to offer you the same comfort and support you offer him, he's just perhaps more 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯 about it.

"Hey Copia?" you prompt, drying the last of your tears and sniffling lightly.

"Yes?" he counters by using your name as well.

"Let's go see Primo's garden."

"Okie dokie, Sorella."

Sun on your face is just what you need, and to get out of that room. The gardens haven't been the same since Primo himself no longer tended to them, but they are still beautiful nonetheless, and everyone still calls it Primo's garden; it feels wrong to call it anything else.

Walking right into the greenery, running your fingers gently along the flowers, Copia starts after you, "You know Primo wouldn't want you walking among the plants..."

"Hmmm... Little do you know," you smile over your shoulder at the man, "I used to work in the gardens, and Primo taught me all the best hiding spots." You wink, before running off quickly.

"Hey! Sorella!!!" Papa hollers after you, picking up his pace, but it's nothing to match your knowledge of the twists and turns of the foliage. He probably never would've found you if it wasn't for your uncontrollable laughter. By the time he turns the corner to the little clearing in the tall bushes, you're already laid back on the soft grass, habit pulled off, and shoes kicked aside. You reach your hand up for his, pulling him down roughly. "You're stronger than you look, Sorella," he chuckles as he settles on his back in the grass next to you.

You lie back in silence for a while, just enjoying the sun, the breeze, the sounds of nature. But it can't last forever.

"Mia cara, you never answered my question."

"Hm? What question?" you play dumb.

"Cara... What have you been teaching me about talking about our feelings, facing them head on? Do those rules not apply to you?" Copia turns on his side to face you, "What was bothering il mio topolino back there, huh?"

"It was, uhhh..." you search for the right words; you don't find them, "It was stupid. I'm okay now, Papa."

"If stupidity made you cry like that, I'm afraid you'd be crying all the time around me. Now," he places his fingers on your chin, making you look him in the eyes, "what was it, tesoro?"

"You're not stupid, Papa."

He addresses you bluntly by your name, letting you know he's serious, "Stop avoiding the question. And I know you're only calling me Papa to distract me from getting my answer." He keeps a straight face for a long moment, then sticks out his tongue at you, breaking his stern look. It's his way of letting you know that you aren't really in trouble, but he does expect you to be honest with him.

"It was the bed."

"Hm?

"The bed."

"Che cosa? Do you not like it?"

"No, it's, uh," you knit your eyebrows together in frustration, "it's a lovely bed, but it's where Terzo and I had ours. It's one of the only things in your chambers that's in the same spot as it was before."

"That is all, mia cara?"

"Well it reminds me of him."

"Do you not want to be reminded of him?"

"Not in that way, no. Those memories are so... intimate, and they're the hardest ones to take." You feel vulnerable telling Copia this, but it had been bugging you for weeks.

"Well then... We move the bed, sì? Problem solved."

"Copia... I don't want you to rearrange your room on account of me," you reach up, resting your hand on his arm, which was languidly lying across your waist.

"It'll probably be saving me the trouble of some of those memories in the future, no?" he gives you a bittersweet smile, "Come now, we have some work to do!" He sits up, grabbing your shoes before running off. Now it's your turn to chase him...

Back in his chambers, your shoes wait neatly by the door as Copia returns from the small kitchen with two glasses of ice water. He has a smug grin on his face as he practically makes you drink from the glass. "I believe you left your habit in the gardens, Sorella."

Damn it. "Ah, fuck it. Sister Imperator already wants to kill me for missing so much work. I'm sure the habit is only a minor infraction."

"Sì, and you look bellissima without it."

That comment makes you blush a little. He'd never commented on your appearance before, but luckily your cheeks were already flush from running after him.

Copia shrugs off his vest, rolling up the sleeves and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. You have to admit that it looks good on him. Now you're blushing about commenting on his appearance, albeit internally.

"What do you think of putting it here, hm?" He gestures to the nook in the wall that had a huge dresser and his art glass vases.

You sip your water, "Hmmm??"

"The bed. We move it here, sì?"

"You meant right now?"

"Of course, I meant right now. I don't want this to cause you another minute of worry, Stellina."

Next thing you know, you're gently wrapping art glass vases and placing them into a box. It is only when the sound of furniture scraping against the floor becomes obvious that several Ghouls come rushing to the door, worry written on their faces even behind their masks.

"Ah! Perfetto! Extra hands to help!" Copia invites the Ghouls in to help move the massive bed and dresser, which they handle in no time thanks to their otherworldly strength.

As you unwrap the last of the art glass to place back on top of the dresser, now in its new place, Copia remarks, "Sembra fantastico, dolcezza!"

"Someone's in a good mood," you turn to look over your shoulder at him.

"Sì, it felt good doing something other than sitting around here. Not that I don't like sitting with you," he takes your hand, thumbs rubbing your knuckles.

"No, you're right," you smile up at him, "it did feel good. Change of pace."

"Sì," is all he says before a wicked grin spreads across his lips. Suddenly, he wraps his arms around your waist, scooping you up, and throwing you over his shoulder.

"PAPA!!! Put me down!"

"I can't, not yet, Sorella! The floor would be too hard!"

"Too hard for what?!"

"For this!" He grabs your waist and pushes you high into the air, letting you come down hard on the bed.

"You-" you grumble at him, straightening out your skirt and fixing your hair

"Who, me?" he asks bewildered.

"Yes, you! You little shit!"

He tuts his tongue at you, "Now is that any way to speak to your Papa? Especially one who just moved half his room to make you comfortable?" He sheds the look of disapproval, and sits next to you, taking your hand, "Really, mia cara, is this better for you?"

His soft voice coaxes you to recline back on his pillows, observing the room only half seriously, "Yes, Copia, it's perfect... Thank you." And you really mean it, because you know that you don't have to sleep in here, he does, but it still means enough to him to move the bed so your thoughts won't haunt you anymore.

• • •

As the months went on, Copia started working again. It was good to see him leading mass again. At first the topics were perhaps more basic, helping him dip his toes in the water, so to speak; it was still so easy to strike a chord that would make him spiral. But he was happy to be back in his office working on translations with his cute little assistant. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?? 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘐𝘚 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐'𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦...

He had even started working with the Ghouls making music again. You didn't know exactly what went into all that, but you have to imagine he has to take that slow as well. For now, you've heard they're just rehearsing old songs to get back into the swing of things. They even invited a few (which of course turned into more than a few) Siblings of Sin to a short performance, the Ghouls insisting it would help their Papa to be in front of a crowd again.

"What did you think of our little show, mia cara?" Copia shyly asks you, pulling you out of the crowd of Siblings; his small voice such a sharp contrast to what you'd just seen up on that stage.

"Papa, I think you know what everyone thinks of your performance, everyone is absolutely gushing seeing you reach your full potential again."

"Ah, sì, but my timing was a little late a few times, and I forgot a couple of the lyrics... Besides, I wasn't concerned with what everyone else thinks. I want to know what 𝘺𝘰𝘶 think, Stellina."

"Papa Emeritus?" a Sister nervously approaches the two of you.

"Yes, my child?" he turns to them, always charismatic after a performance.

"Um, uh," she holds out one of the CDs from the Ghost Project, "will you sign this?"

"Of course, dolcezza," he chuckled, delighted over the attention. You have a sneaking suspicion that the Ghouls told everyone to really play it up and act like adoring fans rather than people who get to see Papa regularly. The girl waves her friends over and a small group of Siblings and Ghouls all come over to shower their Papa with praises. As he's drawn further into conversation with them, he turns over his shoulder to look at you, almost as if asking for approval, as he did not want to disappoint you by leaving you alone.

"Go!" you mouth, shooing him away with your hands, "Go have fun! Go see your fans!" You had to yell the last part as he slowly got pulled away from you.

They don't mean any harm; they just want to let Papa know how much they adore him, but you did get a weird pang in your stomach when he called that other Sister "dolcezza," one of the many names he used for you. You quickly shake off the feeling and try to enjoy the atmosphere, it isn't every day you got to see Papa and the Ghouls perform.

After being dragged to a wild after party by the Ghouls, you quietly walk back to your quarters. You had left a little early, knowing the party would rage into the night, but you need to say least 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 to work tomorrow. Plus you don't think you could take the sight of Papa with that girl anymore--the same one he called dolcezza--sitting in his lap. You knew it had been several months, and he would start to seek comfort in others eventually, but still, something about it felt wrong. Of course, you never mean to judge your Papa, it just feels too soon and you worry if he's ready, if his wounds are healed enough.

As you dig in your pocket for the key to your room, you feel hands grab at your waist from behind. Gasping, you drop your keys before being pinned to the door by the tall slender form behind you. "Going to bed so soon, dolcezza?" 𝘏𝘮𝘱𝘩. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦.

"Yes, Papa. Some of us have work tomorrow," you threw him a small smile over your shoulder.

"Ahhh, but how often do we get to party like this, mia cara? Especially as of late." He reaches down to get your keys, and you turn, leaning your back against the door.

"You really came all the way down here, just to drag me back to the party?"

"No, Sorella. I came to party with you," he leaned his against the door, hand next to your head, trapping you to the spot.

"Papa, I think you're drunk."

"I might be, Sorella," he giggles, clearly still riding the high from performing again. Terzo used to act similar after a performance with the inflated ego, knowing everyone wanted him.

"Besides, I thought you would have other 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 this evening..."

"Che cosa? The sorella from the party? Don't tell me my little topolino is jealous..."

𝘑𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘕𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭... 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦? 𝘞𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵... 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵?

"Piccolina, your silence says more than you know," he coos, lifting your chin with his fingers.

"I'm not jealous, Copia," you squirm beneath him, looking down at the floor, "Our relationship isn't like that." Technically that is the truth. Yes, he was handsy with you, but he was handsy with all the Siblings. You'd never thought about him in that way, and now, as the thoughts crept up now, it felt wrong. You're supposed to be his friend, his confidant.

Copia seems to sober up for a minute, inhaling sharply before dryly stating, "I suppose you are right, Sorella."

"Goodnight, Papa."

"Goodnight, amore," he replied, kissing your knuckles before letting you retreat to your room, ever the gentleman.

All you could think before crashing hard into your pillow was 𝘈𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦? 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦.

• • •

A few days passed and you hadn't heard anything from Copia, you hadn't been called to his suite or anything. You were certain he likely had another Sibling warming his bed, the thought making you sick. You feel guilty. Guilty for feeling possessive of your Papa; he isn't yours, he could belong to anyone he wanted now. Not enough time had passed since he belonged to another, the most spectacular woman he could've asked for. You feel like you're trying to replace her, and it isn't your intention. She was amazing and always deserved to have a place in Copia's heart. And then there was Terzo... You feel like your were betraying him. Every memory you make with Copia pushes Terzo further and further from your mind. That also makes you feel guilty. You don't ever want to forget him. It feels like you're trying to replace him, too, and he deserves to live on in your heart, just as Copia's Prime Mover will for him.

Without even realizing, your feet wander quickly through the halls of the ministry; you hadn't even bothered to put shoes on. Your feet pad against the floor hard as you rushed in what direction you aren't even sure. Tears fill your eyes making everything blurry. You're sure someone probably could follow your trail by the amount of tears you left on the cold marble floor. Before you know it your feet stop, looking up through weary eyes, you make out the silhouette of Copia's chamber door. 𝘜𝘨𝘩, 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦?

You knock before you can even stop yourself.

The whole door shifts slightly, it was cracked open, and you hadn't noticed. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘢. 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘺.

Worried, you pull the door open gently, not sure what you'll find behind the heavy oak.

And there he is... leaning against the doorway between the little kitchen and rest of the space, taking the breath right from your lungs.

You can barely say his name, "Terzo?"

His eyes gently lock with yours, and he moves towards you, suave as always.

"Teh... Terzo? Wh-what.. whatareyoudoinghere..."

It makes no sense. You're clearly in Copia's room, the bed in its new place and all.

"𝘈𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦..." his arm effortlessly gliding around your waist, and his other hand brushing your cheek. "What makes you cry like this? I'll put an end to it right this minute."

You're not even able to speak as you lean into his chest sobbing. His scent envelops you, bringing back a flood of memories.

"Bella, you must calm down, you'll worry yourself sick, mia cara. Try to breathe." He holds you tightly to him, white-gloved fingers laced in your hair. "Shhh, shhh..." he coos, humming to you like a mother would to her child.

After a while of trying to dry your sniffles and tears, Terzo leads you across the room to sit at the foot of the bed with you.

"Terzo," you whine, "what's going on?"

"You always were un uccellino curioso. Do not worry piccolina, you will get your answers in time," he reassures you, placing a kiss on top of your head.

"I just- I've missed you so much!" Tears threaten to spill once again. Immediately they're met with a white glove wiping them away.

"I know, mia cara, I've missed you too, così tanto. But I'm here now, and it breaks me to see il mio cuore hurt the way she does." He gently guides your chin towards him, softly kissing your lips. That familiar spark flies through you; electricity seemingly coursing through his veins, you can feel it on your skin with every little touch.

Absentmindedly you open your mouth, ready to receive anything he has to offer, and his tongue never did disappoint. Even after all these years your body still aches for him, made obvious as you hastily works on the buttons of his shirt. Terzo's hand, now bare, creeps under the hem of your skirt, "They put my Prime Mover back in her old habits, huh? This simply won't do..." He tugs your skirt up around your waist and quickly makes work of pulling the veil from your hair. Almost like muscle memory, you lift your arms for him to pull the simple black fabric from your form in one fluid motion. "Quello è meglio. Satana, quanto mi è mancato il tuo dolce corpo," he mumbles, lips immediately attaching to your collar bone.

This draws a sigh from you as you run your fingers through his hair. He throws his shirt off his shoulders, discarding it on the floor, and your fingertips greedily take in the feeling of his bare skin.

With a hand behind your head and a strong arm around your hips, he moves you further up the bed, then crashes his weight down on top of you. His hands roam your body, grabbing at your waist, your panties, your breasts, your hair, until one of his hands find yours, interlocking your fingers. His lips work on the sensitive skin at your neck, drawing his name accompanied with several moans and whines from you.

"Oh, please Terzo... Don't ever stop," you let out, nails scratching at his back and scalp.

"Forever and ever, sì? I'll make love to you 'til the end of time, amore." With one hand holding yours above your head, his other scoops up your thigh, hooking your leg on his hip. You feel his hardness grind down on your sex, layers of fabric trapped between you, and you both hiss with pleasure.

You want to yell at him so badly, demand he take you right then and there, but the words wouldn't come. What if you lost him again? Instead it's best to savor the time you have.

You reach your hand between your bellies, nails lightly dragging from the waistline of his pants up to his belly button, a move that drives him crazy every time. As he practically attacks your mouth with his, your hand finds his erection and starts to palm at it. Within seconds, your lover is becoming putty in your hands, and as you unzip the annoying fabric to take his hot girth in your hands, an indecipherable stream of Italian flows from his vocal chords, something about a sex goddess handcrafted by the Dark Lord himself.

His hands glide along your hips, fingers hooking into your panties as he rips them right off of you. "Please, cara," he begs, kicking his pants off into the floor, "mia cara dolce seduttrice, please let me take you."

You feel his cock, slick with precum, pressing against your folds; he looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide with lust, "Per favore." You have mercy on him, allowing him to enter you, the stretch drawing loud groans from both of you. It feels like two strong magnets had finally collided, and once he was seated comfortably inside you, he looks down at you, ever-so-gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ear before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His hand rests on the side of your neck, thumb stroking your cheek, never breaking the kiss as he starts to roll his hips. You let out a light moan, threading your hands in that beautiful raven black hair.

He only broke this kiss when neither of you could hold your breath any longer, but he didn't stray far, as he nipped at your jaw. "Va bene per te piccola?"

Terzo continued to rock his hips at a deadly pace, making you want more and more of him, "Sì, Papa, molto bene." His heart absolutely beamed when you spoke Italian to him, only pushing him to snap his hips faster.

He always knew exactly how to please you, his throbbing member scraping against that sweet spot inside you over and over again. It doesn't take long after his fingers find that little bundle of nerves at your core that you fall over the edge; the only word on your lips is his name.

"Brava ragazza, una brava ragazza per tuo Papa," his praises making your heart swell for him.

"Ti amo, Papa," you mutter, bones turned to mush as he continues to careen against that soft spot inside you, "Ti amo, Terzo."

"Ti amo, il mio amore... Forever," he pants hotly, right in your ear, "Tesoro, I don't think I can hold on any longer." He groans loudly.

Without hesitation, you grant him permission, practically begging him to finish inside you. His hips halt for a moment before evenly rocking them back and forth, letting out a needy whine, riding out his orgasm.

He relaxes on top of you, laying his head on your chest and lacing his fingers with yours.

"Amore," Terzo starts, looking up at you through his lashes.

"Hm?" you ask, a silly grin on your face as you twirl a strand of his soft hair in your fingers.

"I know you won't forget me."

You knit your eyebrows together, confusion washing over you.

"You shouldn't be afraid to be with him, I know you'll never forget me. Remember, tesoro, I told you not even Lucifer himself could keep me from you. I live on in here," he says, putting his hand over your heart.

"Terzo- I-" you feel the lump forming in your throat, making it hard to speak.

"You need each other. Maybe more than two people have 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 needed one another. He teeters on the edge of madness, and I'm afraid without you, it would topple the scales. Take care of him, soothe his soul, just as you did with me." He leans up leaving kisses on your forehead and eyes.

When your eyes flutter open again, you're outside. You look around taking in Primo's garden.

"Come, bella," Terzo stands next you offering you hand to help you up, "let's play a game like we used to."

He gives you a shit eating grin before running off, into the maze of bushes and shrubs. Both laughing hysterically, you chase after him, following the well known paths. As he turns a corner, you lose sight of him, but you won't give up so easily as you press on to catch up with him. Trailing just behind him, you reach out only brushing his waist for a moment before he peels away from you again. He turns the corner to your old hiding spot with you hot on his trail.

As you reach the clearing, he's nowhere to be seen. You realize you're the only one still laughing. Just like that, he was gone.

You drop to your knees, that empty feeling creeping in all too quickly...

• • •

"Tesoro?" You hear Copia call your name, "mia cara, are you there?"

You crack your eyes open slowly, "Co- Copia?" you breathe out, voice raspy.

"Hi! Hey. There she is," he attempts to sound cheery but clearly he is worried out of his mind. He cups your cheeks and places a hand to your forehead, making sure you didn't have a fever.

"Wh-where am I?" you glance around at the all white everything. The bed you're on is cozy but certainly not homey.

"The infirmary, cara," he chuckles nervously, "You gave us quite the fright."

"What happened?"

He doesn't want to worry you with the details, but he knows you won't rest until you have answers. "Well the morning after the party, you didn't show up to breakfast, which isn't like you, Stellina, so a few Ghouls and I looked all over for you. You weren't in your room and it wasn't until someone-" he stopped suddenly, clearly choking up.

"Someone heard you screaming in the gardens," a cold voice supplied. You turn slowly to see Sister Imperator standing opposite Copia.

"I was in the gardens?" you ask, turning back to Copia.

"Sì... In that little clearing you took me to. You, uhhh, you were screaming for Terzo. Cara, I've never seen anything like it. It was like you were in a ritual trance, I didn't know you'd practiced communing with the Dark Lord before."

"I, uhhh, I haven't."

You and Copia both look equally shocked, but not wanting you to be stressed, he insists on you relaxing the rest of the afternoon. And of course, despite the nurses working in the care ward, Copia stays right by your side, sending various Ghouls to get whatever you need. It really is probably overkill, you are just a little dehydrated, after all.

Not needing to stay in the infirmary for more than a day, Copia has you moved back to your room, insisting you need bed rest and lots of fluids. "Take the day off, amore, the week if you need it, it's my turn to handle Seestor after all," he chuckles, helping you into bed. He looks around to make sure you have snack, water, medicine; you can tell he's getting ready to return to his duties.

"Papa," you reach out, grabbing a couple of his fingers.

"Sì, piccolina?"

"Stay with me? Just for a little while," your eyes practically beg him. You'd been craving some proper alone time with your Papa.

His face softens and he begins to sit down on the edge of the bed, but you pull him towards you, urging him to lie down with you. He obliges, facing you, draping an arm over your waist, and you do the same to him.

"Copia..." you whisper to him, not even really sure what you wanted to talk about.

"Yes, dolcezza?"

That triggered it, and before you could stop yourself you blurted out, "Did you sleep with that girl?"

"La ragazza from the party? No, Stellina," his lips pull slightly into a frown, accentuated by his face paint.

"Oh... I was hoping it went well," you lie.

"Topolino," his tone disappointed, "do not start being dishonest with me now, after all these months."

𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.

"I'm sorry, Papa, I just-" you look up at him, making him drop the stern look he had, "I don't want to hold you back."

"Amore, you could never hold me back, you do nothing but support me, lifting me up when I need it most." His free hand finds yours to draw shapes on the back of your hand with his thumb. You look down at his hand, then carefully move to lace your fingers with his. Feeling the warmth of his hand through his leather glove, the butterflies swarm in your stomach; a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, but unmistakable nonetheless.

Copia lets out a small sigh, silence washing over you both as your minds race; thoughts ranging from "I like this, I want this, I want 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦" to "What if this ruins what we have?" to "What if I'm not ready to move on?"

Always knowing the exact right thing to do, Copia leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead, and it immediately quieted down the noisy chatter happening in there.

"Get some rest, mia dolce Sorella," he commands, sitting up next to you. "We still have much to discuss, but don't you worry your pretty little head over it." He accents his point by gently scratching at the crown of your head. You knew aside from your newly forming feelings, Copia still wanted to know what the hell happened to you the other night.

"Yes, Papa. Now, you should go back to your office before Imperator blows a fuse," you lean up too kiss his cheek then whisper, "or I may keep you here all to myself..."

If it weren't for his paint, you were fairly sure his cheeks beamed bright red.

• • •

Days go by before you see him again. Pulled in every possible direction, he simply has too much on his plate between rehearsals and the mountain of work that had backed up over months of not being in the office. Plus Sister Imperator fired his assistant and reassigned her to your office... Seems like a strange decision considering how much pressure Papa is under.

When your lunch break rolls around, you decide to order take out, ordering a little extra for Copia, knowing he often works through meals when he gets his mind set on something.

Lightly tapping on his door, food cartons in tow, your hear him grumble something before yelling, "Come in!" in a not so nice tone.

Pushing the door open, you let him know, "I'm sorry, Papa, if it's a bad time, I can just drop this off and leave."

"Cazzo, Satanas, Sorella. I'm sorry I thought you were- ...someone else." You could tell he meant Sister Imperator. "Please, make yourself comfortable wherever you can."

You scan the room to see piles of books and papers and files and folders everywhere on nearly every surface. Even one half of the couch had a few stacks of documents. "Goodness, Copia, are they trying to work you to death?!"

"I suppose so, Stellina," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well..." you start, needing a minute to think, "okay, here's the plan: you take a break, we sit down and eat, and after we get our bellies full, I'll stay here and help you sort through some of this."

"Mia cara, you don't have to do that." You could read the appreciation on his face though as he twirled a small strand of your hair between his fingers; he really needs the help.

"I don't have to, but I want to. You don't deserve to be stuck in this office burning the candle at both ends."

His hand moves to your cheek, "Grazie, cara, you always know exactly what I need."

Forcing him to sit back in his chair, you take a long pause to stand behind him and rub his shoulders, causing him to let out a nearly inappropriate groan. At the sound of your giggle, he questions you jokingly, "You think your Papa's tension and pain are funny, Sorella? Watch yourself... I may have to punish you." Then it's his turn to giggle as your cheeks heat up at that remark.

Out of the corner of your eye, something catches your attention swishing past his office door, but you don't let on to it, not wanting to worry him further. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘺 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.

You push the thought from your mind and instead move to distract yourself and Copia with food. And boy is it delicious! It's just what you both need.

As promised, after lunch, you hop right to work helping him organize ALLLLL the papers, which ends with you sitting on the floor, sorting things into neat piles.

"Sorella, I never would've thought to sort things out in this way, but it makes so much sense." He saunters over to you, placing a hand on top of your head, like a pet.

"Maybe now you'll be able to chip away at all this a little faster," you smile up at the man towering over you.

"Sister!" Imperator's voice boomed from Copia's office door. "Your lunch ended hours ago! We have a lot of work to get done before Yule next week!"

"She 𝘪𝘴 working, Seestor," Papa defends you.

"What? By playing in the floor like some toddler? C, don't let this girl distract you."

You can tell he wants to remark on the informality of her using his nickname.

"I'll have you know, Sister Imperator," his tone stiffer than normal as he used her whole name, "She's implementing the organizational system used in your offices. The one she came up with, and I think it will be a great help to me, especially seeing as I lack an assistant now. I believe it's in the ministry's best interest if their 𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢 is able to work as efficiently as possible."

𝘖𝘰𝘰𝘩! 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘫𝘢𝘣 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦! You can't help but silently root him on.

"Unless, Seestor, there is some reason I'm being held up in every way possible?" his eyes lock on hers as he stands protectively in front of you, still in your spot on the floor.

"What are you implying, Copia?" she practically spits back at him; he's onto her, and it's making her nervous.

"I'm not implying anything. It's the hellsent truth. We have more work than ever after I was out for so long, and I am getting less and less help. It keeps me right where you want me: in this office, closed off from the ones I'm 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 to be leading, offering guidance to."

You had never really heard him speak this way. He's suddenly almost... Cold? Confident in a different kind of way. You can't quite place your finger on it, you just hope you're never on the receiving end of it.

Imperator opened her mouth to speak but was quickly cut off. "Sorella in here will be my new assistant. She's supported me more than anyone since the passing of my Prime Mover, and I'll not have her disrespected anymore. Not by going back to that office, and certainly no longer by you."

Your eyes go wide at the last part, along with Sister Imperator's. "I understand, Papa. As you wish," was all she replied before leaving you both.

Closing the door and pressing his back to it, Copia chuckles nervously, "I can't believe I just spoke to her like that." His eyes lingered on the floor before tracing their way up your form. "But it needed to be said..."

"Papa... I," you let out a shaky breath; you are so proud of him and honored by the way he defended and complimented you, but also made nervous by the whole situation. "Papa, I hope you know I didn't start doing all this just to get a promotion."

Copia's face broke a smile with breathy laughter as he got on his knees in front of you, looking you straight in the eyes. "Of course you didn't, topolino," he presses a kiss to your cheek. "But you take care of me better than anyone I know. I'll be stronger with you by my side."

If your chest wasn't overflowing with emotions and your eyes weren't filled with tears, you would've taken him right there on the floor, dealing with damn papers later. But for now, you just let him hold you as your eyes wander over him, his torso, his shoulders, those wild mismatched eyes you could never get used to. Not with Terzo, not with him.

Delicately, like you would break him, your hand snakes up to his hair, combing back the gray locks on his temples. Gently, you close the small space between you, finally taking comfort in those lips over the course of several long, chaste-for-the-most-part kisses.

You both pull away before things can progress any further; at this point, you were used to waiting. Eyes still closed, you hear Copia call your name. "Seestor reminded me... Would you like to accompany me to the Yule Ball, amore?"

You can't help but laugh; after that whole heated thing, all he could think about was spending Yule with you. "I'd love to, tesoro."

Once again blushing under his paint at you finally using a pet name on him, in Italian no less, he wraps you in his arms, nuzzling his nose to yours, "Okie dokie."

• • •

Before the night of the big dance, you spent the evening pampering yourself. You drew a nice bath, did a face mask, styled your hair just the way you like, put on a little makeup.

You were just stepping into your gown as your hear rapping at your door. It's a beautiful deep purple gown made for you in your Prime Mover days, and boy did it make you and Terzo look like a pair! He adored purple; you weren't sure exactly the last time you'd worn it, but you were sure it ended up on the floor quickly after Terzo got you alone.

"Just a minute!" You quickly slide the gown up and into place at your waist then sliding your arms through the proper holes. Clutching the dress, hanging loose, against your chest, you scurry over to your door to see who was waiting.

"Buona sera, amore mio."

None other than Copia, of course, but he isn't Copia this evening; tonight, he is Papa Emeritus IV. He steps into your small quarters, looking far too regal to being here. Dressed in full papal regalia, the silky blue robes and bejeweled mitre making him look larger than life.

"Oh, Papa... You look so nice." You're practically breath-taken.

"Nonsense. I pale in comparison to you, Stellina," he steps towards you, noticing your hand still holding your gown in place. "May I?" A hand on your hip urges you to turn, other hand carefully sliding the gown's zipper up your spine. He stands behind you in your dusty little mirror, his ceremonial gloves, beautifully adorned with golden bones, rest on your hips with his fingertips tickling at the top curves of your thighs.

"Assolutamente sorprendente..." It comes as a whisper before he presses a kiss to your shoulder. You like the portrait painted on the looking glass in front of you. If there was one thing you could change, it would be that you wished you had a blue gown to match his vestments; though you suppose your violet fabric against his blue silk is a reminder that you've belonged to two great men.

"Copia... Do you think they'll ever let us be together?" The question falls out of you suddenly.

"Who?? Who wouldn't let us be together, mia cara?" He whips you around to face him as if you were in trouble for asking that question, but his face reads nothing but concern.

"Well, I guess Sister Imperator mainly... And then there's the clergy. Are they going to let you take a second Prime Mover, especially one who belonged to another Papa?? And then there's the ministry... your followers, your fans. What if they get jealous that someone took their Papa? What if they don't like me because I took someone else's shot at being the PM when I already had my turn? What if-"

Copia cuts you off, your name leaving his lips like he's just been knocked in the chest. "You've thought about being my Prime Mover?"

That's when you realize you said the quiet part out loud. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘥𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘺. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵? "I know this is all new for us, Cope, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want more."

"Mia bella ragazza, it seems you want 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵," he says, attempting to be suave, but it does pull a laugh from you regardless. He cups your cheek in his gloved hand "Dagli tempo, amore mio, avrai tutto quello che vuoi e anche di più." His hands thread through your hair, pulling you into a fiery kiss that simply wasn't long enough. "Speaking of time, I must be going, Sorella. The clergy will be expecting me. I'll leave Aether with you, sì? No one as bellissima as you should enter the Ball empty handed. I wouldn't want someone to think they could take you from me..."

He presses one more kiss to your lips before turning to exit, leaving you reeling at his words.

• • •

The Yule Ball is buzzing already. Siblings and Ghouls pour into the ballroom, already tipsy on eggnog and spiked hot chocolate, chatting and laughing, and a few even dancing to the light music that played as you all await Papa Emeritus IV. You were grateful to have Aether with you, giving you company in the flood of people. In fact he's oddly tame considering the amount of attention some of his fellow Ghouls are gathering; he must be on orders from Copia to be on his best behavior.

The energy is simply electric as everyone hardly pays attention to Sister Imperator's opening speech. It had been a rough year for everyone; they all need the release the Yule celebration can offer.

When Papa steps onto the stage in his ceremonial garb, the whole place erupts with applause, shouts, and a few lewd whistles. You see that familiar look of pride well up in him; not pride for himself, no, pride for the ministry, the church, everyone who worked so hard to spread the Olde One's message. "Good evening, my children. Multa Yule beneficia omnibus. How are we tonight, eh?"

He absolutely dazzles the crowd, everyone hanging on his words of praise for their devotion and support this year. He chokes up a bit mentioning the trials and tribulations he and everyone had faced this year, you knew he would, but a few Ghouls cheering their love for their Papa perked him back up and he made it through. Keeping his sermon brief, Copia just wants everyone to have a good time; they all deserve it.

As Papa moves onto the ballroom floor, he's swarmed by ministry members all wanting to dance with him, but he always handles a crowd well. Offering several of them a quick spin and kiss on the cheek, they swoon over him, and this time, it didn't make you the slightest bit jealous; you know who he has eyes for. A few couples even brought their kiddos over to meet Papa, watching him quickly bless a couple of babies then hold a young girl on his hip, "dancing" with her made your heart feel like it may burst. He doesn't realize how adorable he is with that sweet smile on his lips as he greets his congregation.

A tap on the shoulder catches your attention. Aether holds out his hand, clearly an offering to dance with him, perhaps trying to distract you from staring at Copia. You giggle at him before taking his hand. He wasn't the best dancer, but rocking back and forth, slowly spinning did allow you to get a chance to look the room over. The event committee did a great job with this one: handcrafted swags made from evergreen, holly leaves, and berries hung between each stained glass window, with golden bells cascading out from the base of each one; spreads of candles everywhere in black, dark green, and gold; they had even adorned the Renaissance-style painted ceiling with twinkling lights, a beautiful representation of the Winter solstice night sky.

"Ahem, Aether," Copia's voice lightly commands over your shoulder, "may I cut in?"

"Of course, boss," Aether quickly straightens up, releasing you from his grip as he wipes his palms against his vest.

Copia lets out a chuckle as his hands comes to rest on your waist. "Sorella," he whispers just behind your ear, as Aether disappears into the crowd, "I have a very important question for you."

"Yes, Papa?"

His hand glides around the small of your back as he dramatically walks around to meet your eyes, hand now gripping your other hip. He looks just as stunning as he had in your room an hour ago, but it's only enhanced by the ambient lighting, the gemstones and metals on his mitre and gloves absolutely sparkling.

He bows deeply, lowering his head until he's eye-level with your waist. This catches the attention of everyone nearby, as Papa bows for no one, especially in his formal wear. Looking up at you as if you're the only thing in the room that exists, he asks very simply, "May I have this dance?"

It's a very public display that lets everyone know his intentions. You could only imagine that Imperator must be fuming, but your attention is fully ensnared by the man in front of you. "Of course, Papa, it would be an honor."

He slowly moves back up, eyes clearly drinking in the curves of your body, "It is I who should be honored, principessa."

𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. 𝘚𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘭𝘺.

Suddenly, his arm snakes around your midsection and pulls you tight against him, a twinkle in his eyes as you start dancing together. This dance is much more energetic than it had been with Aether; Copia wastes no time in taking you out on the floor, twirling you in his arms, leading you gracefully. You remember being impressed with his moves back when he was a Cardinal in the way he would enthusiastically move against whomever he may have been courting at the time; no one had expected such a performance from the shy awkward man in his cassock and biretta, and you certainly never thought you'd get to experience it firsthand.

In one final move, he spins you away from him, arms outstretched between you, before he stops and cracks a grin at you before breaking into a few of his stage moves, "ass wobbling" as he calls it. It elicits a great deal of laughter from you, then he saunters back over to you, scooping you back into a kiss, like you were in a movie or something. You get a peek at the chandelier above his head, spotting the mistletoe hanging there. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥. You could almost roll your eyes at how corny he could be, 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵, but it's hard to think of anything when his lips are against yours.

It's only when a group of Copia's closest Ghouls start hooting and hollering that you recall that you are in fact surrounded by most of the ministry. As Papa stands you back up and turns to hush his Ghouls, your face colors bright red, realizing almost everyone was watching that little display. You notice a few envious eyes cutting daggers at you.

"Come, mia cara," the man offers his hand to you once again, this time for an escape. As you rush from the room, embarrassment is quickly replaced with excitement. You and Copia run hand in hand through the halls of the ministry, laughing at what you aren't really sure, but you don't stop until you get outside to the walkway overlooking the courtyard.

The cloister is always beautiful at night, the gargoyle

s casting shadows that looked like demons, and the tall arches allowing a perfect view of the stars, but keeping one dry if it happened to be raining. It also always had a nice breeze, which on a night like this, the longest night of the year, chilled you right to the bone.

"Here, principessa, take this," Copia says, unclipping the top layer of his vestments.

"Oh, no no no, I couldn't take that. It would be inappropriate," you argue.

"Stellina, it is only cloth, and I won't have you freezing your plump little ass off out here." His word is final as he drapes the beautifully embroidered chasuble over your shoulders.

𝘖𝘩, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘴?

After clipping up the chasuble, Copia wraps his arms around you for an added layer of warmth and leans you against the waist-high wall behind you.

"Mia cara, you look beautiful against the stars like this." He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, seemingly one of his favorite things to do to you.

"You look very handsome yourself, Papa," you admire him, running your hands over the blue silk that now runs up to his shoulders, no longer covered by the chasuble.

"You still call me Papa after all this time," he points out.

"Well, I didn't want anyone to think I was getting special treatment..." You practically stare a hole in his chest.

"Stellina," he lifts your chin to meet his gaze, "I don't think you were fooling anyone."

Your cheeks start to flush, whether from the cold or the intimacy of the moment you aren't sure.

"You know, Copia..." Tears start to well up in your eyes at that... dream? hallucination? memory? You weren't sure what to call it. "Terzo... He, uhhh..."

"Tesoro, if you don't want to do this because of him... Well, I'll know I've missed out, but I'll understand. I could never dream of replacing him; his shoes are much too big too fill."

"No, Copia!" you whine, tucking yourself into his chest, "That's not what I was going to say." You pause for a moment, collecting yourself. "Terzo came to me that night I went missing. I don't know how to explain it... It felt so real. But he told me that we needed each other, and that I should take care of you."

"I know, amore, I had a similar dream that night. It was perhaps 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 than yours however. I saw my dear Prime Mover, holding our child in her arms, and she reassured me that they were being taken care of. They had all of the opulence and prosperity that Satan promises his followers. I just 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 that I couldn't give it to them-" His eyes turn dark, and for the first time, you understand what Terzo may have meant about Copia going mad.

You gently reach up, gracing your fingertips over Copia's lips and chin, bringing him back to reality. Your face soft but concerned as you search for the soul behind those mismatched eyes.

As if you're some sort of grounding force, he stiffens up, inhaling sharply as he looks down at you; a tear rolls down his cheek as he chokes out your name followed by, "I do need you. I need you so much, cara." His lips hit you like a wave, crashing down on you wherever he can make contact: lips, cheeks, nose, jaw.

With both of yours and his emotions running high, it's easy for the sadness and grief to cradle itself away inside, while new feelings make their way to the surface. His tongue urgently finds it's way into your mouth, as your fingers card into his ashy brown locks, knocking the mitre to the ground. It's heady and desperate, but it's exactly what you both need.

As he nips at your neck, tongue tracing various shapes over the sensitive skin there, his strong arms lift you to sit on the cloister wall, drawing a gasp from you. As if your arms didn't have enough of a hold on him, your legs locked around his hips, pressing him close to you--but not close enough. It felt like you could fall over that wall with him and dive head-first into pleasure; it's exhilarating.

One hand roughly rips open the snaps on the chasuble that had been keeping you warm, leaving it cascading down the wall. Certainly preoccupied as his lips search yours again, you aren't even sure how he got the blue underlayer of his vestments off, but it left him in a stunning little combo: black jeans, black skirt with billowing sleeves, and a tight little vest. How that man wore so many clothes you didn't understand, but you didn't care, as long as they came off.

His gloved hands scratched up your thighs, pushing the hem of your gown up. With your arms already locked around his shoulders, he asks, "Ready, baby?" before sliding your weight off the wall and onto his waist before he quickly carries you in the direction of his chambers.

It's nothing short of miraculous that you make it back to the room without bumping into anything or knocking any expensive sculptures over, seeing how Copia was pretty much navigating blind; his lips hardly leaving yours for a second.

Inside the cozy suite you'd come to know so well, even growing to like it the way Copia had it decorated, he flops you both down on the little sofa you'd had so many chats on. Hands on his chest and legs on either side of him, you shift to get more comfortable when you find his sex with yours. You both groan against each other's mouths, desire growing to become unbearable. Your fingers work his shirt and his vest open as your hips gently grind down, searching for that sweet sensation again.

Papa's mouth leaves you with a pop as he gasps for air; his eyes are dark again, but this time for an entirely different reason: you. Having you is the only thought on his mind as his hands fumble for the zipper on your back. His lust-blown eyes devouring each new inch of skin exposed to him as your dress hits the floor.

"Satanas, mia bella, your Papa Terzo was a lucky man," he mumbles as he presses a string of kisses to the tops of your breasts. "You could make the Dark Lord himself blush in this little number."

You cradle him against your chest as his flattery pulls a giggle from you, "Keep talking like that and you'll get lucky too, Papa."

He groans happily at the sound of that, his hands cupping at your lacy bra.

"Oh, so now you like being called Papa?"

"When you are dressed like this, sì, call me whatever you like, mia principessa." He looks up at you, strands of hair falling out of place, chest exposed as his shirt falls off his shoulders, his lust evident against his jeans; he looks like debauchery personified.

"What if I call you mine, huh?" Your boldness surprises you, but you roll with it.

"Hmmm... Okie dokie. Papa is all yours... to do with as it pleases you, topolino." Now, that last part makes you blush, but you don't hesitate to start loosening the laces on his pants. With the laces undone, you untuck the tail of his shirt from the tight demin, allowing his erection to spring free.

Your fingers gently grace over the shaft, eliciting a shaky breath from Copia. You both look at each other like nervous teenagers for a moment; it has been a while for you both. He leans forward and delicately kisses you, and it was the push you needed to fall over the edge with him. Your hand grips him with more confidence, bobbing up and down, while his moans are muffled against your lips.

His nimble fingers drift under the edge of your panties, teasing at the lace on your hip before gliding to circle the damp cloth over your clit. You match his noises, a blissful harmony filling the room. The sensation is only heightened when his fingers push the lace aside to slide into your slick folds. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴? You pull away from his lips to let out a whine as he teases your entrance, and a hiss escapes Copia as you tighten your grip on his dripping member.

"Copia," you gasp, "Papa, I need you."

"Cara-"

"Right now, Papa, I need you right now," you demand, head thrown back as you grind against his fingers. "And please don't say 'Okie dokie.'"

"You took the words out of my mouth, bella," he gives a half-smug half-goofy smile while he pulls your hips closer to him.

Letting him pull your panties aside, hooking them on that plump ass he remarked on earlier, you line up over him, impatiently taking him. As the tip enters you with that delicious pop, you both attempt not to buck your hips. You both fail. His arm snakes around your waist, urging you down onto him. It really is a desperate sight; you hadn't even properly gotten either of your clothes off, yet you still seek to become one.

Slowly seating yourself fully on his length, Copia calls out your name, "Ti amo, tesoro, così tanto, da così tanto tempo... Ti amo tanto." It came like one of his chants during Mass, like it was well practiced, like he couldn't wait to recite it.

You cup his cheeks, holding the the last bit of resolve he has, "I love you, too, Copia." Your hands slide down to his shoulders which help stabilize your movements on top of him. Instantly his hips move up into yours, matching your rhythm in a delightful way.

The antipope's hands reach up, sliding your bra straps off your shoulders to free your breasts, and his mouth quickly starts to work on your budding nipples while one of his hands reunites with the bud between your thighs. "Voglio adorarti, mia dea. Ti farò piacere. Prendi il mio seme come offerta."

That stream of Italian has your head soaring through the clouds; the hand holding a death grip in his hair might be the only thing that keeps you from derailing. How he could manage to press every button you had all at the same time is beyond you, all you know is that it has you barreling towards your orgasm faster than anything you've ever experienced.

Suddenly, Copia pushes you off of him, your back landing on the sofa. He hungrily pulls your panties off and lines back up with you, filling you again in an instant. Instinctively, you want to wrap your legs on his hips, but Papa has other plans. He hooks his hands behind your knees, holding them straight up and squeezing your thighs together as he relentlessly pounds into you. This has you screaming his name within seconds as the head of his cock drags over that sweet spot inside you over and over and over again.

The feeling is so overwhelming, you can't stop the wave of your release from crashing over you, "Oh, Satanas, Copia, I'm coming!" Your eyebrows contort and your jaw relaxes while your thighs shake violently beneath him. The sensation causes his hips to stutter, and as he finds a shallow but steady movement, you know he's reached his end as well.

A warm sensation fills you as he gives you his offering, just as he'd promised moments ago.

His hips continue to buck, riding you both through your climaxes. He lets your legs go weak, gently letting them down to either side of him as his movements come to a halt. He finally shrugs his shirt and vest from his arms then carefully pulls out to lay next to you on the scant little couch, but he holds on tight so you don't fall off. Propped up on one arm, his eyes observe all of your details: the flush of your cheeks, the marks he left on your neck and collarbone, the way your chest rises and falls as you try to calm your breathing. Everything about you looks perfect in his opinion.

Copia grabs your bra, which has just fallen around your waist at this point, turning it so the fastening is in the front, and he makes quick work of discarding it. "We did this a little out of or order, sì?" he chuckles.

"I wouldn't have had it any other way, amore mio," you lean up to kiss his nose.

"No one has been blessed more than me this Yule, Stellina. I'm grateful for it, and for you." Before his blush becomes too evident, he leaves you, only for a moment to retire to the big bathroom connected to his bedroom. He returns wearing a big soft robe, with one just like it thrown over his shoulder for you, as well as a warm washcloth.

Soft as kisses, he smooths over all of your love bites, calming the red wounds; he then wipes away any proof of your love making before bundling you up for a long night of cuddles and sweet nothings. Maybe even another round... Or three.

[theyareweird]

Frankie Stein's Home Ick by Ms. Kindergrubber Survival Guide

Flyleaf

Frankie's comment (blue pen):

Hey everybody! If you haven't taken this class yet, I'm going to give you everything you need to know to survive Home Ick with Ms. Kindergrubber. If you follow my advice, you'll never fall apart in class.

Class Overview

Home Ick introduces students to an amazing world of practical skills and concepts that will continue to haunt them for the rest of their unlives. This class will cover but is not limited to the following subjects:

Basic potions, concoctions and mixtures

Proper use and care of cauldrons and ovens

Practical stitching and sewing techniques —Fave!

Issues and careers in Home Ick and the mad food sciences

Monster biology and food choices

Many monsters that haven't taken Home Ick believe that it is an easy class. That could not be further from the truth! Ms. Kindergrubber loves, loves, loves this subject, and she'll expect you to love it as much as she does. If you think you can just drive-through and order up an "A," you'll be in trouble, and that's why I'm here to help.

Lecture

The instructor will explain the techniques necessary to completing the student's weekly assignments.

Basically Ms. K. shows us how to do something and we're expected to do it the same way… the exact same way.

Tests

Both written and practical exams will be used as a measuring tool to assess a student's comprehension of the presented information.

Ms. K. likes to use her recipes as tests to make sure you take good notes when she gives out the recipe during lecture cause she makes you taste test everything! Spectra added too much frog hair to a recipe we were being tested on and it made her smell like burnt popcorn wrapped in spoiled cabbage.

Yuck.

Supplies

Notebook and pen

Apron —If you don't bring your own apron Ms. K. has box of loaners and they are totally nasty.

Hairnet —(There is no way to look fashionable in a hair net… I'm sorry it just cannot be done.)

Fireproof oven mitts

Thimble

Other Things You Need To Know

–On the day you make dragon butter, make sure you don't eat before you come to class. Just trust me on this.

–Prepare for broken nails, head-to-toe soot, and a week of lectures on oven safety. Oh, and don't ever ask Ms. K. to check if your oven is hot enough. Totally freaks her out for some reason.

–If you think this is just a class for the ghouls, you'd be dead wrong. Deuce was in my class, and he was a total rock star when it came to the cooking part of the class. His recipes were the only ones that Ms. K. would actually try herself. She made the rest of us try them out on each other. Deuce tried to say he just got lucky, but I don't believe it. Besides that, there are usually four times as many ghouls as guys… just saying.

–You'll get to spend a week in the creepateria helping to prepare and serve food. It's a shockingly difficult job, especially when you think about having to come up with meals that appeal to as many different monsters as possible. That's the reason all the choices are either gravy brown or slightly gray. They have a little bit of everything thrown in them, so there'll be at least one taste that's familiar to every monster. On the last day you work in the creepateria, the lurch ladies make their specialties just for the class, and they can really cook! Plus after having to ladle a mile in their hairnets makes you a lot less likely to complain about the food in the creepateria.

–Do not use Draculaura as an example of a monster that doesn't eat what they're "supposed" to. It makes Ms. K. cranky, and I think she keeps a dirty cauldron set aside just for monsters that bring this up.

–Every monster has to do a class project for the Home Ick open cottage. That's when parents and other students get to come in and check out all our mad skills. You won't be shocked to know that I chose a sewing project. I even know some knots that Ms. K. doesn't, and I got extra credit for demonstrating them to the class. You probably don't want to choose the life-size gingerbread house as your project, though, because, for some reason, Ms. K. is really, really picky about how it needs to be done.

Hope this info charges you up for the class.

Love, Frankie

Sewing 101

Dress pattern

Back Front

1. Cut out 2 in any fabric of your choice. Lay flat sew 3/8" in from edge up back seam inside out.

2. Cut out 1 in any fabric of your choice. Sew onto back piece 3/8" from edge inside out. Turn right inside out. Add snap.

Faculty

Ms. Kindergrubber began her career in the Home Ick sciences when it was just a cottage industry. Eventually though, so many students found themselves on the path to her sweet little place in the country that she found herself pushed into teaching. She has authored several cookbooks and her Black Forest cake is simply to die for. —YUMMM!!!!

You should know that Ms. K. does not see very well but she hears everything and her nose is better than Clawdeen's on a full moon.

[adventuringblind]

Carlos Sainz Ghoulverse Headcannons

Below the cut warnings: Ghouls eat people and is the central plot point of this universe! So like... proceed with caution ig

Notes: driversname.ghoulverse and ghoulverse are the tags you can use to explore more about the drivers and how I've built this world up!

The way I've written this adds traits to each ghoul that are mildly more specific. Like Oscar's sense of smell and Max's wings. Carlos has really good hearing. He can hear for miles, has the sound of your footsteps memorized, even your breathing patterns.

I reckon he tunes in to the sound of your heart to calm himself down. It's a consistent in his life and he knows you're alive wherever you are in the paddock.

Physical features include a number of things so Ima just list some general ideas because a lot of it is up to your own imagination.

Carlos has two sets of horns: two small on the forehead that stick strait up and a second from the side. Example below with the black being the smaller and the red being the larger. (IMAGE NOT MINE)

As much as I want to give Carlos a scary tail... I actually feel like he's have a soft tail. It's almost velvety until the end where there is a really big tuft of longer hair. Carlos is a practical guy... definitely uses it to dust.

Because of his better hearing, I can picture him with longer ears. Like the points extend further and act as little sonars or something.

In terms of mating, I see Carlos being a provider through and through. Doesn't matter whether they are human or ghoul, you best believe he will take care of you.

If his mate is a human, then he regularly will give them small pieces of his horn to keep other ghouls away.

A ghoul mate will be provided for. He would want to risk you out hunting. He knows you're completely capable of getting your own food, but Carlos genuinely likes taking care of you.

Raids/testing/anything that could end in public execution has him more growly. Good luck to whoever tries to get to you because Carlos will just bite their heads off. It doesn't matter whether human or ghoul at that point because you are going to be killed either way, and he's not letting that happen!

I talk more about this in My Demons (are begging me to open up my mouth), but those overwhelming emotional periods with him would be insane. This isn't ABO, but it does have similarities around it. Like these overwhelming emotional periods aren't about sex... for most. However, Carlos in my head is the exception and deals with his emotions via sex. No, you will not be walking for days, and that's on purpose to keep you in bed with him.

(Suggestions needed because I don't wanna call this a heat/rut since it's not about sex... but my creativity is lacking here)

[sticksbatnix]

I know its super late, but on your Batman Beyond thoughts, I always wonder where all these powerful and weird looking misfit teenagers become Jokerz?

Or like does Bonk have parents, if so did they care about his death?

You make a very good point here, anon.

The show, as great as it is, fails to elaborate much on The Jokerz's past as a whole. Sure, there are tidbits here and there but more should have been added to properly explain how and why they joined The Jokerz in the first place.

Sure, make the point they were dumb teens who didn't know better, but there's more than that, there always is.

So let's explain it further by the five W’s.

Who, What, Where, When, and Why.

Who?

Who are the characters presented to us?

Ghoul, DeeDee, Chucko, Wolf, and Bonk.

And whoever other teenager dressing up is similar to either The Joker or Harley Quinn herself.

What?

What is happening to these characters and the people around them?

Simple, a group of misfit teenagers go out of their way to cause chaos and mischief wherever they go. Of course, lacking general empathy, causing property damage, and directly or indirectly murdering people whether they were innocent or not. And to be stopped by either law enforcement or by The Batman.

Where?

Gotham City, more specifically Neo-Gotham City.

The various old and decrepit buildings of what Gotham City was like before were long forgotten. Likely, used for the citizens of Gotham who couldn't afford the luxurious apartments and homes near and within Neo-Gotham.

When?

The future.

A time beyond Batman’s prime in time for a new Batman to take place. Just in time to handle the new and chaotic criminals that run or fly freely across the city. New technology, new law enforcement, new drugs, and new opportunities to cause havoc upon the citizens of the futuristic city.

Why?

Many reasons, few predictable, others reasonable, and the rest unexplainable.

Throughout the show, it's shown that various teenagers who go into a life of crime have rough backgrounds. Abusive or neglectful parents, low income, bullying, or even the corruption of authorities.

Bonk’s death, while brief, shows the cruel reality that many of these young criminal teenagers would face. Yes, they may be having fun, but over time they’ll be able to face life-threatening situations that may end their life. It could be painful, it could be painless, or it could have long-lasting effects if they survived. In Bonk’s case, he made the fatal mistake of going up against The Joker, paying dearly for it, and dying with a permanent smile on his face.

His body might as well be disposed of near or in a trashcan. I doubt DeeDee would go the extra mile to deliver his body to his parents, but if they did I can't imagine the horror his parents would have finding his corpse laid out on their front porch. Now, whether or not they cared for Bonk is unknown, but judging his brutish personality I could only speculate he cared for himself and likely hated being seen as lesser than everyone else. Especially his parents.

The other Jokerz can be speculated as well.

Ghoul came from a rich family, likely running off to live a life without rules and regulations. I've written a few scenarios about this on this blog about this. His family likely disowned him because of his involvement with The Jokerz as I never see them visit him when he's captured.

DeeDee are related to Harley Quinn, now whether they know about that is up in the air. But it's obvious they were inspired despite how much their ‘Nana Harley’ despised them for it. They seem to enjoy the limelight of joining forces to cause havoc and chaos all at once despite everyone telling them not to.

Chucko is a bully who loves inflicting misery on others. Likely joined The Jokerz to bully others without consequences and cause mass amounts of destruction. Whether or not he came from a bad family, it's clear that Chucko enjoys bullying others he sees as lesser than him.

Wolf was human before being spliced with hyena DNA and became the rabid creature we all know. It's possible that he felt a clear connection with animals, specifically dogs, rather than with his own family. Maybe he felt like being a dog/hyena made him feel more complete rather than living his life out like a human.

And we already talked about Bonk.

God knows about the other Jokerz members.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen in the next ten years for these characters and where they’ll be then.

Would they be dead? Would they get proper help and move on? Would they still be in jail? Would they change their whole gimmick and become like the villains from the past?

This reminds me, I found an artist on Devianart who specifically drew The Jokerz gang if they took part in the inspirations of past villains. Ghoul as Scarecrow, Wolf as Killer Croc, and Bonk as Bane. It's very creative and I feel like it should get more attention for how creative they all were.

Nonetheless, The Jokerz gang should be talked more about not only for their missed potential but for their capability to do so much more.

[scooby-review]

Scooby Doo Where are You? S2 E1-E4

1. Nowhere to Hyde

Nowhere to Hyde kicks off season two of Where are You? in a spectacularly mediocre way. This episode is just fine to me, it doesn’t really do much to stand out against the previous seasons episodes, likely oding to this season releasing in September of the same year the finale of season one aired. However, there are some changes to the previous season, which I'll mention as they arise. 

The episode follows the gang encountering a fabled jewel thief, The Ghost of Mr Hyde, and latter running into Dr Jeykll, where he admits to being afraid he is turning into the ghost of his father’s infamous dark reflection. 

The first big change for the series is the different background style. Part of what gave the first season its charm and gothic aesthetic were the gorgeous backgrounds by Walt Peregoy, who defined what the show looked and felt like. Strangely, it’s difficult to find too much information about the artworks, but I believe he painted all the first seasons, and then this season had other background artists painting them. Stylistically, they are a more blatant acrylic style, with some locations harkening back to the originals more than others. Ultimately, these paintings are still great, even if it took me a while to adjust to the change. Within this episode I especially love the crypt-like laboratory, which odes to the gothic aesthetics of Frankenstein and of course, Dr Jeykll and Mr Hyde. 

This season also sees the introduction of new writers, with a trio taking on the reigns to write the batch of eight episodes. I’m still unsure how I feel about this writing style, which is incredibly close to the original. I think as far as the stories go, they are far tighter, again similarly written, almost exactly so, but you can tell the differences in how they write, such as the frequent use of locations like the malt shop and beach as ways of initiating the mysteries and framing the episodes. I think the mysteries are mostly better written here, at least when I watched this one I wrote it as being more of a fluid story! However, I prefer season one by a mile, mostly coming down to how bland a lot of these characters and locations feel. I’ll elaborate on those throughout the season, but I found myself somewhat bored while watching a handful of these episodes, and so I wonder if the writing is better or more streamlined? When researching other people’s thoughts I saw a lot of people saying they preferred season one, but two did have a lot of defenders! In fact, people were pretty split on the topic! One of the main reasons people love season two however, are the chases, which I’ll expand on soon. 

I would also say that the animation changes a bit here, or at least I noticed the animation looking different. Hanna Barbera cartoons look cheap, they feel cheap, yet they also harness this excellently. There’s a certain charm to it when watching back much after it was released, everything about this season especially feels of the time, for better or worse, but I find the animation has taken a step up in how fluid it is! I think it looks worse. I love this cheap looking style, it’s so fun to see how even on such a small budget, the animations can be made, they can be fun to look at and love and labour was poured into these! But this upgrade comes without a lot of necessities to back it up, therefore, characters moving more isn’t always a positive thing, it simply makes the animation stand out more, causing the characters to go off model even more. It’s whatever, but it’s worth pointing out. 

But all that can be said about the entire season, this episode itself is entirely just fine. 

The villain’s design is kind of whatever to me; creating a good looking Mr. Hyde is something rarely done well I feel. The entire basis of his character is being human evil, this suppressed piece of ourselves we hide from the world, however, this guy is just a green ghoul. To be fair, I do like that he is the ghost of Mr. Hyde, like the actual character, with the culprit being the son of Dr. Jekyll, also called Dr Jeykll. It’s funny! And it’s the only part of this entirely boring design that I enjoy. Returning to the writing quickly, this is maybe the best mystery of the season, with the writers framing Helga, the maid, as being the villain, constantly setting up clues alluding to her, subverting your expectations! It’s great and makes the episode more enjoyable to watch. 

Plus, I like Shaggy in this one. In the opening we see him about to eat his food, before Scooby steals it, where he grows furious, before melting and hugging Scooby happily. It’s the best encapsulation of their relationship in this iteration. When I was younger, I used to think Shaggy could be overly mean to Scooby here, but looking at it in a vacuum, their relationship is instead just slightly different, he isn’t mean or malicious, just less willing to accept all his antics. I like it!

Of course, this all leads to what season two is best known for: their chase scenes. Backed to bubblegum pop inspired by the British Invasion, in seven of the eight episodes we see the gang chased by the villains, wacky hijinks ensue. Consistently, these are the best parts of the episode, it makes them come to life in such a great way! Although these would only later return many, many series down the line, I do love them! Their purpose was likely just to sell an album of bubblegum pop - hell, The Archie’s were only a band to make money for the studios, and most bubblegum pop is corporately churned out behind animated faces or characters to sell to early teens. However, it’s fun, and I like it a lot! 

Overall, just a whatever episode! It’s not bad, but it’s forgettable and weak against some of the episodes of last season that were poorly written and kind of wonky! But as is, it’s okay!

2. Mystery Mask Mix-Up

I didn’t want to include everything in the previous episode, but I am going to start this one negatively again. God, the intro to this one sucks. Not the cover of the theme song, that’s all good! But the way it’s edited is awful. Like it’s really bad. 

Rather than cut a new intro, they edit the previous one, which makes sense! However, they include the old intro’s skeleton, throwing still images of the new villains over the old one’s. No joke, there’s a point where Scooby runs into Charlie the Robot, the original intro then pans up to his face. Here, he runs into Charlie’s legs, the camera starts panning up, and instead there’s a still image of the Hawiian Medicine Man. Like, it’s awful man. Sometimes it works fine, but other times it’s egregiously bad, only harbouring a little charm as a result of this! As a child it used to creep me out whenever this one came on, it just felt wrong and off somehow. 

Unfortunately, this episode doesn’t win me over too much either! I think I prefer the previous episode. 

This episode follows the gang buying a mask in Chinatown, only to learn it’s supposedly haunted, with Daphne subsequently kidnapped by The Scare Pair. 

Just reading that the characters enter Chinatown in an episode aired in the 70s should be enough to tell you what happens. It’s impossible to return to the mindset of the children watching these, unaware of the way the material is depicting people! I never try to return to these periods of time to understand what it would have been like to watch, because I’m sitting, streaming this on my laptop at midnight in 2024. Without having been there, I cannot return to this place, and honestly, that’s a good thing! This episode made me uncomfortable, it simply made viewing what would have otherwise been a fun episode frustrating! We see this a lot throughout the series, especially with Native American characters, and trying to remove the knowledge that this is poor is simply irresponsible and not how I enjoy watching art! It’s there, and sometimes it’s still entirely possible to enjoy something despite its themes and characters reflecting poorly, however, in this case, very little was left for me to enjoy regardless! 

While I do enjoy the setting, I’m very lukewarm on the villains, The Scare Pair are the more interesting of the two, their designs a simplistic black robe with a white mask, but the simplicity works for them; they act like many other silent, hulking villains, although these ones in particular are down to murder, which is always fun the rare time it’s done! They are completely fine, I don't feel too positive or negative about them!

I feel similarly about their leader, The Ghost of Zen Tuo, who receives far less screen time than the others. His white and lime green robe is striking against both the scare pair and his own golden mask, an intricate design that automatically signals his place in the hierarchy against the pair perfectly - he is more defined through his appearance, while the others are a nameless pair of followers. Again, he’s violent and has a blood thirst to him, but beyond this i don’t get loads from this set of villains!

This episode's chase, again, the most consistent aspect of this season to me, is a car chase, which is so unique and not something we see again this season! I love them spicing up the formula already! 

Another great aspect of this episode is the aforementioned peril the characters are placed in! It makes this scenario feel so perilous and places a high level of importance upon the masks! This entire episode parallels the 1932 film The Mask of Fu Manchu, and so I imagine it was used as inspiration, possibly leading to this feeling and tone. 

Also, there was a great POV shot in here which was crazy to me. 

Overall, it’s about the same level as the previous episode! Just kind of whatever, with a few great elements constantly bogged down by all its tedious aspects. While watching I actually had a flashback to watching it on Cartoon Network or Boomerang (RIP) as a child! I think I enjoyed it more then? But still, it was evidently a forgettable episode! 

However both episodes so far have had mouse jokes so maybe this season is better than the last. 

3. Scooby’s Night With a Frozen Fright

Unfortunately, again, the negativity doesn’t end here (I promise the following episode is wholly positive!) because I found this to be one of the worst episodes of the series.

Simply, I found this one super boring! Despite all my notes being positive here, I took less than a quarter of my usual notes, because ultimately I had so little to say! I’ll focus on the positives here, because most of the negatives are just that I was super bored by this one, and there’s not too much more I can elaborate on there. 

The episode follows the gang on a beach where Shaggy reels in a frozen caveman. Upon handing him in, they soon learn the ice has melted, and the caveman is gone.

I’ll rattle through all the positives first, and then end on the villain and briefly, the setting. 

There’s a mouse in this one, so that’s a good start. 

We see both the malt shop and the beach in this episode, two locations they love using this season and that I love seeing them use! Both are able to elevate the gangs relationship and create a stronger bond between them, giving a greater feeling of their relationship and specific friendships. 

I also love the chase again too! They’re so dynamic and gaggy, they lean so much into the best slapstick that the show has to offer, and the bubblegum pop sound is something I’ve come to love and be really fascinated by recently! Even if I wouldn’t listen to any in my spare time, God do I find it interesting!

Okay I’m now realising the rest of my notes are about Tusk because Scooby and Shaggy pretend they’re seals at one point, and so I found the parallel funny. 

The rest of the episode feels muddy if not boring, such as the gang being afraid of one of the scientists talking to a dolphin and fear for their lives when a room they’re in starts having large ice cubes funnelled into it. 

The villain is an archetype I can’t say I’m too interested in! I just find them super uninteresting, always used to tell the same slew of jokes and ultimately not doing anything interesting! This guys monster design is just a man from the past who looks incredibly human, wearing only a single garment of clothing. It makes his design uninteresting and I just don’t care for this kind of character! In searching whether or not there’s another caveman villain, it’s not too clear but it seems like there’s not! Which is all good with me! 

The setting here is oceanland, which with a more interesting villain could have stood out way more! But as is, I hope we see it again, this one just didn’t leave too much of a mark. 

Not a great episode! I never felt invested in anything going on here, but even in the worst episodes, there’s still something I like! I think I’ve disliked the past three as a result of their central concepts feeling far less inspired than season one, or maybe just doing less for me! I think there’s two more episodes which I really dislike in this season, and they come from a similar place of finding their villains very drear, and I think these episodes lack creativity in where their plots go! They are tighter written, but that only highlights the flaws of the series current structure, which is all a result of budget. 

But I cannot wait for the next episode. 

4. Jeepers, it’s the Creeper

This episode follows the gang heading to a school barn dance; although all appears fine, they soon find the dance interrupted by The Creeper. 

This episode is the second highest rated episode on IMDB and it deserves all the praise it gets! This shows the best of what the season two writers can do, again, when the monsters, settings and mysteries are truly pushed. 

I think most love this episode as a result of its great villain, The Creeper. Inspired by the jazz song “Jeepers Creepers”, and possibly a character from Dr Terror's House of Horrors, the villain is difficult to describe, he’s unique in what he is, being a hunchbacked zombie-like creature. He’s human enough, in fact, if his skin weren’t green, he could easily be human, which is a criticism I had of Elias Kingston, but I think this design is way more interesting, the theming of colours is perfect, the greens complement each other perfectly, but the reddish brown hair grounds the earthy tones of the design. His expression is also evocative of a zombie, it again makes him stand out uniquely where a character like Elias falls for me. 

Also! The first ever computer virus was called The Creeper, named after the villain from this episode. 

Honestly, I like the Creeper but don’t love him! He’s a good villain but isn’t in my top ten, and not even my favourite of this season, yet the episode works so well because of the creativity he represents. Sure, we’ve had a fun variation of settings before, but here it’s pushed to its limit, it’s so much more creative than the gang visiting Chinatown because they use it to introduce a larger world, create a feeling of isolation and despair and using the setting as a vehicle for its gags, whereas Chinatown is used to tell a series of racist jokes before leaving it to sit away from the bustling streets and in a closed temple. 

I adore the barn sequence, where we see the gang dancing alongside their classmates, it’s so fun to see this world expanded even if these nameless characters feel like background characters from something like The Archies, although I couldn’t confirm anything about their whereabouts - very little concept art for the series is readily available! Regardless, it’s so fun to watch, and I love Velma and Shaggy’s relationship a lot generally, but they excel here! 

After the party goers notice The Creeper, Fred suggests they move the dance to the malt shop. I love this authority he shows and how popular he appears against his peers! This leads into what’s likely my favourite chase scene, maybe with a single exception, showing the gang running through the countryside, using this location to show hen houses and giving Scooby a chick for the rest of the episode as well as having the gang in horse wagons. It’s just so fun to watch!

Most of my favourite episodes balance the series’ sometimes unique sense of humour with fun horror aesthetics, a great villain, character interactions and setting. This episode is in my top ten, yet it doesn’t make me laugh all too much! Yet it’s delightfully fun, something that I’ve missed so far this season! 

Although, my favourite joke in the episode has to be when Scooby and Shaggy flee from The Creeper across a bridge, entering a cave where they encounter the hermit of the hills. He never returns after this sequence where he offers them his food, his purpose feels more so geared towards being an inconsequential suspect, showing off the writer's enjoyment of framing one character before revealing another, again. Yet, I find him so funny - he appears out of nowhere, he’s got such a sweet design and personality, he’s my favourite side character for sure, I adore this man. 

I also love the running plot thread in this episode of Scooby just having a chick following him throughout. This culminates in him returning this little chicken to his mother, where the episode ends with more eggs hatching and them flocking to Scooby. 

What a great episode to end on! It deserves the popularity it has, and I love the legacy it’s left behind through the creation of the virus, alongside his reappearance in the Mystery Incorporated episode  The Legend of Alice May, which is great! 

Love this one!

Episode Ranking:

Jeepers, it’s the Creeper

Nowhere to Hyde

Mystery Mask Mix-Up

Scooby’s Night with a Frozen Fright

Villain Ranking: 

The Creeper

The Scare Pair 

Ghost of Zen Tuo 

Ghost of Dr Jeykll 

Caveman

Next Review: SDWaY S2 E5-8

Previous Review: SDWaY S1 Episode Ranking

[danseinthefallout]

What To Do When You’re Booted Out of The Brotherhood: A Guide from a Former Paladin.

February 14th, 2288

Entry Written By: Danse, former Paladin. 

Entry Edition: 1/?

Edited By: Piper Wright

When you get booted from The Brotherhood of Steel, it’s for a betrayal you never knew. You are hunted down by [Play Name] as it was an order by Elder Maxon, but [they] spare your life and make you feel a little less alone. A feeling you haven’t felt in years, ever since you met your best friend, Colter, ever since you joined the Brotherhood. 

You hate Super Mutants and everything non-human for what they did to Colter, as that is what your Elder said when coming to The Commonwealth. Ghouls. Synths. Mutants. Even the day-to-day robotics you come across. It’s a sign of the world that use to be and what it resulted from. Death. You then believe that it’s not the ghouls and synths you hate, but what the result was. You don’t realize this until it’s too late. Now you grasp for anything good since you got booted from The Brotherhood, the only family that stuck around since you don’t have one. Because you too are a synth. 

You are me. Paladin Danse. Danse. I don’t know what else to call myself. I’m strong, I always have been. But this one thing, I crumble on the floor. I am reminded of all the decisions, all the *things* I have killed, and all the paths I went down thinking it was the right one. And it was, I won’t second guess that, I just wish I was wiser. 

That night that I came to this place, this place that I now call home, I was terrified, I was broken. That feeling only happened when Colter died. His face. How I screamed. I was… alone… again. That is what scared me the most. I knew I had and should push my biases of ghouls and synths aside, and it was hard to unlearn what was so deeply routed, but I always reminded myself that I am one of them and it’s okay. I *had* to be okay with it, what was I going to do about it anyways? 

I knew of Nick Valentine. He seemed like a good guy, always helping people, putting his life on the line. He reminded me, weirdly, of Colter. I went to him one night when it got worse and couldn’t find [Player Name] to confide in. Honestly, I didn’t want [them] to know this. I felt like [they] wouldn’t understand. Nick knew. I just hoped he wouldn’t turn me away for who I was before. I know I would… Luckily he didn’t, he smiled at me and said: “Nice to see you Danse, what can I do you for?” I nearly cried, just of someone saying they were happy to see me. I guess all of that emotion bubbled up. I told him how I felt and asked how he felt about it. He said some stuff that I keep close to me.

I had a moment there where I was on a self-discovery world tour, that is what John Hancock named it. Speaking of, I made my way to Goodneighbor once I talked with Nick. Maybe see what these “degenerates“ have to say. They not, I came to discover. It was like a whole new world. Ghouls and synths and robots. It felt… nice like everyone cared about each other. I wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. Maybe I went for the Memory Den, but what memories would I be willing to relive? The good ones with Colter? Meeting [Player Name] again for the first time? Joining The Brotherhood? I have so few good memories.

Hancock could smell me from a mile away, he’d seen this type of activity before. He was like me at one point, they all were. “Can I Ofer you a drink inside former coy boy?” He titled his hat and chuckled, I was unsure if he was talking to me at first but he threw an arm around me. I’d shiver at a ghoul's touch, I’d probably want to spit on him. For a moment that thought roamed my mind, but I had to remind myself why I was here, and when I gave myself the reason: the reason for being lost, I had a drink with the mayor of Goodneighbor.

We talked. I told him what happened. I told him what Nick said. I told him about [Player Name], where I learn that [they] are friends with half of the Commonwealth. ([Player Name], I now know some things I wish I could unlearn, but I guess that makes you more interesting to me) And that night I was allowed to not worry. I didn’t do chems, although I could have as Hancock offered several times, and honestly, I thought about it. Maybe it would have let me see something I was blind before, but I am scared of what that is. I ended up laughing, a lot actually, with Hancock and a few others, it never occurred to me that I had that for so long. The closes were maybe running a mission or two with [Player Name] and [them] giving me a quip or two, but nothing like that night. We went down to The Third Rail and watched Magnolia sing. I was in there as me, as Danse. Not Paladin or Knight or even Squire. It was Danse. I was not better than anyone as we were all the same. The Elder would have killed me right there if he saw me, I didn’t act the part like he wanted me to. But who gives a *shit* what a punk 20-year-old has to say or think of me? Maybe it’s insecurity or loneliest, but I always cared. I still do, don’t get me wrong, but I cared about the wrong people caring. Author never cared about me. He saw me as a number, they always do… he saw me as someone that could make him win. I know that’s how it is regardless, but with Haylen and [Player Name], they made me feel like a person. That’s what it is.

God this is stupid… I’m a soldier, not a writer. I’m supposed not to have these strong feelings because they might be processed. But god damnit! I’m sick of that! I’m a person with this *thing* inside me. I’ll be okay, I think I will. I still have a lot to wrap my mind around, and I’m trying, so for now, I’ll leave you with this before I send this off to Piper:

When you get booted from the Brotherhood of Steel, you will feel like giving up because the Brotherhood was all you knew. They conditioned you to hate and frame it as good. This idea is rooted inside you. So when you are told you are the thing that they hate, and therefore must be killed; you want to be the one to do that deed yourself, but then you get convinced not to, by the person that was ordered to kill you. You believe them and you start a new life with them. You make friends with people you were conditioned to hate, but find out they are similar to you. You spiral, you lose it, but you get back up and you start a new life because that life is over. Accept it, get over it, and deal with it.

Then you realize that you are not hopeless. You are someone that can’t be conditioned any longer. You won’t be changed.

Note From The Author:

Thank you so much for the love on my last entry! I love writing and so writing terminal entries for characters is always a challenge. If something feels off and or something you feel like out of Danse’s character, let me know! I want to improve for future entries. The idea for this entry is that some time has passed for Danse after everything happened and how he came to be okay with what happened. This for him is talking with people he has previously “hated”.

I also want to address something that someone reblogged (I can’t remember the @ so if that is you, I thank you) about tags. My tags are not always the cleanest as I just choose the tags that are “most used” and I don’t often think twice. I’ll be more mindful about that in the future so thank you for bringing it to my attention. They also (I believe this was the same person) stated they wanted some Hancock/Nick/Deacon angst too so that is what inspired some of the parts in the entry (Deacon angst coming soon) 

Anyways thank you again for the love and this was also written at 3 AM on my phone but this time I tried my best to clean some stuff off up. Any ideas please feel free to leave them, I always love getting inspired by the community

[ghostiebeech]

Chaos Twins

Hello.  In honor of Sunshine Sunday, I am reposting my chaos twins fic I originally posted back at the end of February/early March.  Currently, it’s gonna be in three parts because that is what I already had written, but maybe I add more? 

Anyway if you read this before, I did change it a little bit, but not too too too much. 

Rating: There’s some cursing, so teen and up I guess?

Word Count: 761

Summary: Papa announces that a new ghoulette is being summoned.  Dew seems apprehensive. 

On Ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/47338645/chapters/119282938)

or under the cut

It was a normal, boring in Dewdrop’s opinion, band practice when Papa announced the upcoming summoning of a new ghoulette.  

“With the growing success of the Ghost Project, Seestor has decided we are going to be summoning a new ghoulette.”

The ghouls chattered amongst themselves for a minute before Cirrus spoke up.

“What are they going to play? Do they sing?  I don’t think we need anymore keys, but it would be nice to have another girl on stage with us” she said, speaking a mile a minute, smiling at Cumulus who eagerly nodded her head in agreement.  Too many damn boys here.  

“The new ghoulette is a multi ghoul like our dear Swiss and - Ah, I believe her name is…” Papa stopped, trying to remember the name Seestor told him earlier that day.  “Her name is Sunshine!”  

“Oh how cute!” The ghoulettes squealed.  

As the practice winded down and Papa filtered out, the ghouls started to discuss their new bandmate.  One voice, which was typically the loudest, has been quiet since Papa told the ghouls the new ghoulette’s name.   

Aether noticed Dew’s silence.  The little fire ghoul looked like he was deep inside his head thinking.  Knowing Dew, Aether decided not to bring this up until he was in the privacy of his and Dew’s room.  

After dinner, back in their room, Aether decided to casually bring up the subject of the new ghoulette.  

“So Dew, what do you think about Papa adding a new member?”

“Oh yeah.  I almost forgot about that… It’s cool I guess…”  Dew looked away from his mate, picking up his acoustic guitar, absentmindedly tuning the strings

“You looked a little-” Aether paused trying to think of the right word to not upset Dew. “Nervous when Papa started talking about them…”

“Did I?”  Dew said, not looking up from his guitar. “It’s whatever honestly…”

“Is there anything wro-”

Dew harshly cut off his mate, “Can we talk about literally anything else?”  

Normally Aether would continue to push his mate into discussing his feelings, but a quiet, pleading “Please” from Dew made the quintessence ghoul to drop the subject.  If Dew wanted to talk about it later, Aether would be here to listen.  

The summoning day arrived a week later.  The week leading up, Dew was especially antsy and irritable, snapping, or leaving the room at the mention of the new ghoulette.  Most of his bandmates chalked it up to Dew being annoyed that there was going to be another addition to the band.  The fire ghoul was always uncomfortable with sudden changes to his day to day.  

In the summoning room Dew looked white as a ghost.  The pack could smell the nerves coming off the Dew.  

The ritual itself went on without a hitch.  After Papa chanted out the spell, flames erupted from the earth.  The fire and smoke cleared, leaving a small figure standing in the middle of the room.  

Sunshine was tiny. Shorter than Dewdrop.  She had a sort of light, sunshine radiating off of her.  Her slender face was framed with bouncy blonde curls.  

The room was silent, all the ghouls staring at their new packmate, the new ghoulette looking around the room.  Suddenly a low growl sounded from the new ghoulette.  Aether looked to see what or who she was growling at.  

Dewdrop.  She was staring right at Dewdrop, baring her fangs.

Before anybody would react the new ghoulette had launched herself at the fire ghoul.  

Aether and Mountain rushed forward to separate the two ghouls when they heard the new ghoulette manically giggling.  She wasn’t attacking Dew, she was… tickling him?

“SUNNY, STOP I CAN’T BREATHE- FUCKING ASSHOLE” the tiny ghoul squealing, writhing around on the floor trying to escape the multi ghoul.

“You are still SO SO SO ticklish, Dewy.” The ghoulette emphasized the SO SO SO with aggressive tickles to the fire ghoul’s belly. 

“Dewy?” Rain questioned, looking at Mountain who was busy staring at Sunshine.  

Papa and the other ghouls looked at the pair in varying states of confusion and awe.  They know each other?

Eventually the two smaller ghouls separated, still giggling.  Sunshine got up first, offering a hand to Dew.   The two were staring at each other with matching happy, yet a little feral grins.    

“So, you guys know each other or something?” Swiss was the first to speak up, curiosity killing him slowly.

“This is my twin!” Dew and Sunny replied in unison, laughing at each other.

“Oh Satan, there's two of them…” Papa muttered in disbelief.  What has he gotten himself into?

[https-hunter]

Find your 3 oldest WIPS. Then list for each:

The inspiration- Why it's still a WIP- Will you finish- Why or why not-

Try not to mean to yourself!

Oh, I love this idea! I’ll include some of the wips themselves, so this may be a long post.

1. The oldest wip I could find was in my notes app, dated to June 2, 2020. It’s a breakfast club one shot, Andy and Allison’s first date.

The day had finally come. The day of Andy and Allison’s first date. Andy has an idea that he felt worked well for both of them. It took him a few days to plan, and he ran it by the rest of the Breakfast Club first, but it was well worth it. When he told them, Claire cried. She thought it was so sweet and was rooting for their relationship 100%. Brian thought it was cute and gave him some facts about where the date was taking place. Bender...well, he made fun of it at first because of how sappy sporto was becoming, but then he got serious and congratulated Andy and gave him only the manliest of hugs, to everyone’s surprise.

Inspo- I actually remember coming up with the idea. I was 16 and on this walk with my family at a reservoir where my brother likes to run. It was much longer than I thought it would be (5 miles!) and I was saying that it would be nice to spend the day wandering around the res, maybe bring a lunch and hang out. My mind began to wander and I started to think about how it would be cute if Andy and Allison went on a picnic date in the park.

Why it’s still a wip- idk man. I was writing my nearly 50k worded breakfast club fic at the time. I had a lot going on, what, with finishing my junior year of high school via zoom and all.

Will I finish- I don’t think so

Why- eh, I just don’t really want to. I’ve written a few Andy/Allison fics since and I’m fine with this one living in my mind and notes app

2. This next one is once again from my notes app, but it’s from 2021 and for Titans. It’s basically a Halloween fic

Halloween is a time of year filled with spooks, frights, and most importantly, the thrill of the season. It’s when everyone embraces their inner ghoul and has fun.

Almost everyone, anyway.

Being from an alien planet, Kory isn’t exactly used to Earth’s silly little traditions, and Halloween was no exception. Tamaran had never seen anything like it, so when Rachel and Gar mentioned it, she was eager to learn more.

Inspo- I think my friend Luke (I’ll refrain from tagging him bc of how long this post is but he’s the super slay @/anton-wyzek) and I were talking about Kory being introduced to Halloween. I never wrote this part, but the four main Titans were supposed to go as the Addams Family

Why it’s still a wip- I never got past season 2 of titans tbh. I guess I fell out of it

Will I finish- no

Why- I’m not really feeling it, not caught up on the show or anything. It’s such a fun concept though

3. Another notes app superstar, this time from March of 2022. It’s the start to a Carrie fix it fic where the bucket misses Tommy’s head

Carrie White is at the prom.

A sentence that defies all logic, really, but is completely, 100% true. Even Carrie, herself, was shocked as she walked through the gymnasium doors with one Tommy Ross.

Inspo- umm I love Carrie and Tommy. That’s kinda it. I think they deserved happiness and I was going to give it to them

Why it’s a wip- idk I got distracted ig 😭

Will I finish- I would love to!! I think about this fic quite a bit, so I think that’s a sign. Maybe when tinimmy week is all taken care of, I tie off the loose ends with wagstaff side story (so close!) and I write the ghosts fic I’ve been working on

Why- because I love this idea!

[myupostsheadcanons]

Book's "Read" In 2023

Ranking of the Audio Books I've "Read" this past year. This is my opinion on the books, as "Fun Garbage > Boring Navel Gazing" and books that may be objectively better written are not always fun or engaging to read. Sometimes a really good actor can make an average book sound really good.

List from 2022

Previous entries 2021, 2020. 2019, 2018, 2017

My Top Books/Series:

Rabbits - Terry Miles: If Ready Player One was good. There is a game called "Rabbits" being played that involves looking for "glitches in the matrix" in the world around you. The winner of the game gets an unknown wish. But this round of the game is off... something is wrong... people are dying... and our main character, her girlfriend, and their best friend are putting together the clues and finding out that there is more to reality than they first thought.

Under the Whispering Door - T. J. Klune: Asshole Lawyer dies and realizes he wasted his life. Finds himself in the waiting room to the afterlife, which is a little hipster coffee and tea shop out in the middle of the North West USA. He refuses to accept his death and lingers around the shop as a ghost... wacky adventures ensues.

Alice isn’t Dead - Joseph Fink: Woman becomes a truck driver while searching for her wife?/girlfriend/so that she thought died. Until one day she saw said wife in the background of a news report. There are wicked cannibals on the road and a secret Area 51 town of murderous ghouls.

Dead Water - C. A. Fletcher: Small Island Town in Scotland gets a zombie outbreak problem. From the same writer as "A Boy and His Dog At The End of the World"... The main character is a woman from Scandinavia that married into the family from the island, she became widowed and remained behind on the island. She ends up looking after her orphaned disabled niece as there is a festival inland that the grandparents and most of the villagers left to see. The author loves the Scrappy Dog Companion Trope, and I am all for that!

The Emperor’s Edge Series - Lindsay Buroker

Conspiracy, Blood and Betrayal, (Forgotten Ages Saga), Forged in Blood (Part 1 & 2)

This is one of Buroker's first series, older than the Star Kingdom, Fallen Empire, and Dragon's Gate Series. Many of her archetypes are present, the main female character gets a crush on the Dark and Mysterious Badass. The Badass may be a killer but has a code of honor and a secret soft spot that he eventually trusts the main character with. Lots of Snarky back-and-forth dialog between all the side characters, and the main character can usually talk people into doing what she wants.

The Forgotten Ages Saga is a Prequel to The Emperor's Edge series, but I HIGHLY suggest that it gets read before Forged in Blood, as it introduces us to General Starcrest and it will be easier to understand what goes on in Forged in Blood, and reading it after Blood and Betrayal doesn't spoil the 'zinger' twist about their world-setting.

Super Powereds - Drew Hayes

Year 2, Year 3, & Year 4

Drew Hayes's first real long-form novel series. It shows some of the clunkyness of being a first series that would later be hammered out before getting to Villains' Code, Fred The Vampire Accountant, and NPC's/SS&S. It is also one of those series where the books get bigger with each installment, the 4th book could kill a cat. (suggest listening to the audio books on a higher speed)

It has a lot of collage tropes from the 2000's, young people with super powers going to parties and drinking while worrying about grades and studies. The twist really wasn't much of a twist, as we could easily guess who the actual bad guy was early on and that who we thought was the bad guy wasn't really bad... I don't really care for the "everybody is related" kind of twist, where like half of the cast ends up being from the same family and all this was some kind of messed up family feud.

It is a Young Adult Series, but it feels like the characters are Young Adults and not written specifically for a YA crowd. There is still swearing, violence, has dark themes but it isn't grimdark (like Cline's Ex-Heroes series). Explores topics like discrimination, not just the main characters being Powered, but there is a plot line where one of the main character's father was disgraced hero because he was having a secret affair with an other guy. It isn't so much that this hero was outed as being gay that caused the son to be mad at him, but that the father left them and broke contact with them that causes most of the rift in their relationship. There is a spin-off series called CORPIES that follows along on the Father trying to get back into the super hero game that takes place along side Book 3.

Other Favorite Books/Guilty Pleasures

The Grief of Stones (Goblin Emperor, Book 3) - Kathrine Addison: It was left a little ambiguous if there is going to be more in this series near the end, or if the author is going to change protagonists for another in later books. Third book in the Goblin Emperor Universe, Second in the Witness for the Dead series. The Witness for the Dead books can be read together, they are shorter together than the GE book. I wouldn't mind there being an on going series where new protagonists take over the narrative as the series progress and expand on the world building. The Witness for the Dead series is made for getting people familiar with how people live in their world... because we can't escape death no matter how rich or lucky you are.

Villains Vignettes Vol. 1. (Villains' Code, Book 2.5) - Drew Hayes: A collection of short stories that take place in the Villains' Code Universe: Including a Halloween-Town-themed story and a Christmas story where Santa is real and Fornax has to save the North Pole. Another is a better version of "Glory Road" (see bottom of list), but it is Ivan/Fornax instead and he was summoned to save a planet from demons... and leaving a trail of bodies behind.

A Fallen Empire Omnibus (Books 1 - 3) - Lindsay Buroker: Aftermath of a Revolution War that did not plan out what was to happen with the freed systems once out from under Empire Rule, and lawlessness spreads across the galaxy with entire systems left to defend for themselves. A former Revolution Army Pilot wants to head home to her daughter, but travel is expensive and the only known means of escaping the planet is by a freighter ship that was once owned by her mother. However, a Empire Super Soldier Cyborg got to the ship first and has somewhere else he wants to go. (This is a Lindsay Buroker Book, and considering her other "ships" from the other series, the main female lead gets the hots for the troubled and dangerous badass)

Eyes of the Void (The Final Architecture, Book 2) - Adrian Tchaikovsky: The Architects are on the move again, and even places that were once safe from attack are no longer. A race of people in the past left artifacts behind that once repelled the Architects. Our protags find themselves on a planet that has a city of these ruins upon it that is being systematically devastated. Humanity is fractured and don't hold an united front against the threat.

Noble Roots (Spells, Swords, and Stealth, Book 5) - Drew Hayes: Their is an estate that holds a tournament of challenges with prizes at the end for the winning team. Not a whole lot to say, one of those books that you will love if you already read the ones that came before it.

Farilane (Rise and Fall, Book 2) - Michael J. Sullivan: The one book this year that had me crying at the end... But by that point I've spent 10 books following that one character's journey and got attached to the main character of this one.

Kingdoms at War (Dragon Gate, Book 1) - Lindsay Buroker: Sweet Sciencey-Magic. A setting where magic acts more like science fiction. The Dragons created gates that allowed them to travel between worlds, the dragons left one world but the gates remained behind. The gates and the metal they are made of are very valuable and wars are fought over the possession of the gates, even though the means to use them is unknown. A young man and his mother figure out how to use these Gates to some degree and become wanted fugitives. (one of the villains is a r-pist, so this is a very much adult series)

Flight of the Magpies - K. J. Charles: Get some good smut in with your Supernatural Victorian-London Crime-solving.

The Sandman (Act 3) - Neil Gaiman: The majority of this installment involves Orpheus, Morpheus's son: their past, why they fell out with each other, and Morpheus reconciling with his son.

The 13th God (Cycle of Galand, Book 8) - Edward W. Robertson: Dante and Blaze are still trying to save the mortal realm, this time it requires having to kill a God and they have to team up with another villain to do so. I love this series... but even at this point, I hope it gets wrapped up in the next couple books.

Travel by Bullet (The Dispatcher, Book 3) - John Scalzi: If you like the early Dresden Books, give this series a shot. Uses the unique "people can't die of unnatural causes" rule, while people try to cause crimes and find work-arounds to killing other people or themselves.

Good Books, But Not Everybody's Cup-of-Tea

Song of Night (Dying Lands Chronicle, Book 2) - Jacob Cooper: Read the first book a few years ago. There is a "redemption" arc in this installment, a new prominent character who was a villain long ago becomes good and is trying to fix things (like Caeden from Licanius Trilogy or Malcolm from Riyria)

The Mad Mage of Sevendor & Marshal Arcane (The Spellmonger, Book 14.5 & 15) - Terry Mancour: The Mad Mage is a collection of Diary Entries from Minalan recording personal events that happened during Marshal Arcane. It comes off as if these entries could've been slotted in between the earlier chapters of MA, when Min isn't the person telling the story but the secondary people around him getting their first-person spotlight chapter.

Seas The Day & High Gloom (The Bad Guys Series) - Eric Ugland: Morally Gray Main Character, human gets Isekai'd into a MMORPG. The Gods of Good and Evil fight for his favor, and he frequently pisses off both of them. Don't get too attached to side characters.

Explorer of the Endless Sea & Fate of the Free Lands (Empress of the Endless Sea, Book 2 & 3) - Jack Campbell: Read Book 1 a couple years ago. A prequel to the faux-fantasy series Pillars of Reality. The series as a whole heavily reminds people about the Prophecy that a savior will be born to free the people from the oppressive governments that run their world. This series is about the woman Jules, who's decedent would one day be that person.

Resolute (The Lost Fieet: Outlands, Book 2) - Jack Campbell: Continuation of one of my favorite space series, with the most realistic space battles I've came across. This is like the 20th book in the canon, starting with The Lost Fleet: Dauntless. They are short books, can be consumed in under 12 hours each.

Vampire Hunter D: Riser of Gales, Vampire Hunter D: Demon Deathchase (Vampire Hunter D, Book 2 & 3) - Hideyuki Kikuchi: Riser of Gales is D coming across a hidden Noble fortress. In the recent past, a group of kids from a nearby town went missing exploring the fortress grounds, but showed up with loss of memory as to what happened. They did not come back whole. At least one graphic scene of sexual abuse to a minor... Demon Deathchase is the book that Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust was mostly adapted from.

Architects of Memory, Engines of Oblivion (The Memory War, Book 1 & 2) - Karen Osborne: Classism in Space. The non-citizens are poor and live as indentured servants to the mega corporations that govern society. Aliens seek out an artifact that contained the memories of their people, lost during the war they had with humans that they ended abruptly. Has a "Darth Vader" twist between the antagonist and the main character.

Priest of Lies (War for the Rose Throne, Book 2) - Peter McLean: Punk street thug, to mob boss, to wealthy lord... and not by choice. Strings are being pulled, people he once depended on can no longer be, and former allies turn as they become angered by the MC's rapid jump in status, "becoming what he once despised."

Doors of Eden - Adrian Tchaikovsky: in some paces the walls between the multiverse is thin. LGBTQ book, the main character is trying to find her lost girlfriend that fell through one of these Doors into another world. The other is a transwoman that discovered the method of creating these portals. Rich asshole bad guy.

Malefactor (War with No Name) - Robert Repino: The Sad and Depressing books about animals turned humanoid. Peace is fragile between the animals and humans, a wolf pack in the woods is stirring up discontent and rebellion.

The Elfor One (The Code Series, Book 3) - R. R. Haywood: Final book in the trilogy. They free the ships from the shadow organization and bring equality to the Lower 40's.

Stormbringer (Elric Saga, Vol 2), The White Wolf (Elric Saga Vol. 3) - Michael Moorcock: Elric fights Nazzis.

A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking - T. Kingfisher: cute story, not as fun as Too Many Curses, but on the same quality and reading level. Main character should've been older (16-18ish) because she acted more like a sheltered adult rather than a kid. Bread Wizard. The Yeast Beast is the best character.

Second Hand Curses - Drew Hayes: a group of cursed story characters team up to create a task force to resolve various curses around the literary world. Hunting down wicked witches is their specialty.

Posthumous Education (Fred The Vampire Accountant, Book 8) - Drew Hayes: I love the idea, a collage for the supernatural. Kinda getting sick of Quinn's schemes tho after so many books. Dude's gotta go, please, sometime in the next couple books, Drew.

The Halloween Moon - Joseph Fink: If you liked Gravity Falls, Goosebumps, and Welcome to Nightvale. A story for middle-school aged kids that isn't too childish for older people to enjoy.

God of Neverland -  Gama Ray Martinez: Peter Pan goes missing. Michael Darling, now an adult, worked for the Magical Detective Agency. He is sent to Never-Neverland to solve the problem. Jaded Adult Visiting a Magical Land of Fantasy ruled by The God of Children.

Average Sauce

Ithaca - Claire North: It tells the story of Penelope through the voice of Hera and her omnipresence in the story. There is a lot of "men are either scum or useless" messaging and that powerful women get punished unfairly.

Pandora’s Jar & Stone Blind: A Novel - Natalie Haynes: Pandora's Jar is closer to an Essay on Women in Greek Mythology. Stone Blind is a retelling of the Medusa Myth, and why she was different from her other sisters and the loss of her compassion after her death.

The Archived - Victoria Schwab: Girl and her Family move into a spooky old hotel that was converted into apartments. Girl is a ghost-buster. Runs into two guys around her age that become potential love interests. One of them ends up the villain, and it isn't the nice guy.

Gallant - V. E. Schwab: A girl from an orphanage is found by a long-lost relative and moves to a creepy house. There is something spooky living in the shadows of the estate grounds. Author needs to work on Villain Twists.

Persephone Station - Stina Leicht: Main characters are women and non-binary on the LGBTQ spectrum, working as a team of Special Ops Mercs for Hire. The natives of the planet are being killed by the colonist humans. Main characters are sent out on a suicide mission to save the natives.

Sword Stone Table: Old Legends, New Voices - Swapna Krishina, Jenn Northington: Retelling of King Arthur but with Women, LGBTQ, and POC taking the roles of the main characters. Some of my favorite versions is the Latino Baseball Player, A Wild West Prospector turn Mogul, and Merlin visiting the AIDS clinic as a fake magician.

Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa: The Badass Swordsman. Based on a real person, but this is extra meme. Written in an era of wanting to glorify the Empire of Japan around WW2. Lots of elements went on to be used more commonly in fighting manga, movies, and other media from Japan. Adapted into several TV series and a manga (Vagabond).

The Sheep Dragon (Unconventional Heroes) - L. G. Estrella: an in-between book. Most of the stories follow around Spot The Dragon and a scheme of Timmy's to breed sheep with special wool properties. The series has a habit of getting lost in the minutia, and over explaining things.

Cosmic Delivery Boy -  L. G. Estrella: Over explaining things looks to be a quark of the Author themselves. I don't always mind it. Explaining how the Cosmic Hamsters rule over multi-dimensional shipping, how the MC's new job works, and the dynamics of the different worlds they visit. I am not nearly as invested with the world and characters as I am with the author's Unconventional Heroes books.

The Great Courses: They are Educational, non-Fiction.

Albert Einstein: Physicist, Philosopher,  Humanitarian (The Great Courses)  - Prof. Don Howard

England: From the Fall of Rome to the Norman Conquest (The Great Courses) - Prof. Jennifer Paxton

King Arthur: History and Legend (The Great Courses) - Dorsey Armstrong

The Iliad of Homer, The Odyssey of Homer, The Aeneid of Virgil (The Great Courses) - Elizabeth Vandiver

Readable/Passable

The Red Sphinx (The Three Musketeers) - Alexandre Dumas: A political, historical fiction novel taking place in the same timeline as The Three Musketeers, they do not appear in this novel. Lots of names, intrigue, and court politics done by a cast of over-the-top characters. The only real "downer" part of the book was a chapter on the Plague. The version I read had an additional story at the end to resolve an abandoned love story plot, it was better/more memorable than the book itself.

Archetype - M. D. Waters: An 'updated' version of The Handmaid's Tale. Women are having fewer children and the poor women are being bought and sold as slaves. A technique was discovered to restore the fertility of women, but is only accessible to the super rich. Main character is one of the women in the program, placed there by her husband; she has holes in her memories and her memories were not lining up as they return to her. (expect a lot of gaslighting, manipulation, and "women vs. men" flag waving)

The Collective Works of Arthur C. Clarke -  Arthur C. Clarke: Clark was one of those authors that didn't understand women IRL. It is reflected in a majority of his stories that the women are not the main characters through most of his career, and often were treated as passive and either only going along with the men, being in the way, or only pined after when absent. Like most Old School Science Fiction - many stories had cool concepts, but poor execution.

The Dark Decent of Elizabeth Frankenstein - Kiersten White: It would've been a better story if it wasn't restrained by the Young Adult genre. It wanted to go grimdark, but had to hold itself back when it would've been better to just full-send it. It depicted Victor as someone who was a sociopath since childhood and Beth was adopted into the family as a "nanny friend" that became dependent on him. She would lie for him when ever he "slips up" and was a passive protagonist for most of the story.

Bottom of the Barrel

Lord of Light - Roger Zelazny: Masters of hyper advanced technology that have taken over civilization using the names of old Earth Gods. The idea that "the gods aren't that much different than the people that created them" but in a science fiction setting.

The WORST

Glory Road - Robert A. Heinlein: Ex-Pat, Ex-Soldier Libertarian gets Isekai'd into a Conan The Barbarian Type Fantasy World. Tip toes around the idea of "is this advanced tech or is it magic?" Man solves problems of backwoods Fantasy Stereotypical world through being a dick to most people (a typical Heinlein Hero).

[corvidexoskeleton]

@rockshortage​ Ngl, that's extremely funny

As you said yourself, I'm not sure that would work, but it is hilarious to think about. Like, she stumbles across the house early on during her work with the minutemen, before she thinks to confront the new raider gang amassing out west. So she decides to head out and see what she can find, and while there's a surprising amount of the actual house left, it's still very much trashed. But it's weird, though, because clearly no one has tried to build it back up or live there, but there's definitely signs of activity. Maybe not recent actively, but activity nonetheless

So she goes down into the basement, and things are messy, as expected, but it's all wrong. It's not as dusty or filthy as she expected, it looks like someone has cleaned it up. And her things aren't where they should be, either. A lot of it is stuffed into a corner or a closet, pushed out of the way, but there's a lot of new stuff, too, stuff she's never seen before. There's clothes, handmade equipment, tools, parts, and a lot of journals, so she figures that someone just decided to squat there for a while. But it doesn't look like they've been there in a while, so who's to fucking say how long they've been gone

So she decides to flip through some of the journals to get a clue, and whether or not she should be worried about the person coming back, and surprise surprise, everything is in german. Which, when she thinks about it, is kind of weird, because what are the chances of someone in the commonwealth being able to speak a language that’s primarily spoken in a completely different part of the world? Maybe they’re descended from people who speak it? Or maybe the journals are way older than they look? Maybe the person squatting in her house was a ghoul? Who knows

But she keeps an eye on the place in case they do show back up. And if she happens to come across either someone who can speak it, or something that would help her translate them, then she’ll see if she can when she gets a chance, because who the fuck thought they could just get away with squatting in her house? And how the hell did they manage to get the fucking basement open, anyways? The lock wasn’t broken, so maybe they just guessed the combination? And the fact that they didn’t just... throw all of her shit out or trash the place is doubly confusing, so maybe the weird journals will yield some answers