#ghost band really helps me

[batb1mb0]

Since I’m seeing a lot of people write about their religious upbringing and Ghost…I guess it’s finally my turn. I don’t know if I should but warnings but I’ll put them here anyway.

TW: talk of religion (obviously), family member death, minor talking about masturbation acts, religious trauma, gaslighting, toxic relationship with family

TL:DR: I loose my grandmother and start questioning my faith. Later on my friend shows me the band Ghost and I thought I could finally like something that I relate to.

This all started in 2014 when I was just a freshman in high school. I was 14 at the time about to turn 15, living the best of my life that I possibly could for a 14 year old. I was learning how social media worked, I was playing flash games, I had a great connection with my family. Life was great. The only down side was my grandmother, who I was very close to, was very very sick. She had been sick for three years before this whole moment in time. I got a text one day in December. I still remember the date and time of that message; December 17th, 2014 at 2:45 pm. I see that my mom had texted me and said that both her and dad are in the high school lobby waiting to pick me up. I found this weird since I didn’t need two family members to pick me up. So I thought nothing of it.

When I got downstairs, that was when I heard the news that made me loose my cool. My parents informed me that afternoon that my grandmother had just passed that afternoon and they were signing me out of school a week early due to funeral planning and other things like that. The moment I heard that news, I broke down in tears and fell to my knees. I loved my grandmother. She was like a second mother to me and now I had just heard the news that she was no longer with us. This was the start of my spiral into depression. And it didn’t help that I tried to live in denial for the most part of it.

So with this major death in the family, I was really starting to question my religion. I was brought up Catholic in a very religious family. We always went to church every Saturday evening, I was practically brain washed into thinking this is the only religion you can be. I understand that some other Catholic upbringing stories are not like this but the way mine is, it was more like a cult the more I think about it (I’ll make a separate post talking about that). I really was thinking if god was all good and loving, then why couldn’t he fix and heal my grandmother. I was told to always pray to god if I needed help but it was clear he wasn’t listening to me in those moments. So I decided to drop Catholicism as a whole. The only problem was, my high school was Catholic and I had to get through three years of pretending to be Catholic.

Jump to my senior year of high school. I was 17 at the time so I am still a minor. My high school was offering this religious retreat called kiros. Basically it was a religious retreat to grow your relationship with god or find him again. It was for four days and three nights and I look back to it…it sucked. If you didn’t think religion can be a cult, this was surely the nail in that coffin. We were given the same shirt and the same colored bandanna. The only way to tell us apart were the pants we wore. And we had to wear that shirt the whole time. But this is only scraping the surface of this whole retreat.

The one night I am haunted by is the night we had to do confessions. Now already I don’t like telling a stranger my imperfections, what made them think I would tell a holy man my imperfections. Well…I don’t know how but it worked. I was put into a small room with the priest, he got me to calm down and I still curse myself each day for remembering the interaction so well. The way I had admitted to self exploration in the bedroom, the way I was crying out of sheer EMBARRASSMENT! I wasn’t being healed. Though the priest thought I was being healed and finally accepting god into my heart and that’s why I was crying. No. I was bawling my eyes out due to the embarrassment I felt that I just told this man, who is a stranger and old enough to be my dad, what I had done to myself. It was that I finally was seeing how scary this religion truly is…how far gone you can easily be if you are not careful. I should say any religion is that way. But my experience was truly traumatic and I was given nothing in return. I gave until I could not give no more.

Jump to me in college, these next five years flew by quickly. I was finally with people I could call friends. A close friend of mine showed me their tarot cards, and I was fully clicking with it. Better than my TWELVE YEARS of Catholicism did for me. Of course when I was getting into tarot and the starts of paganism I hid it from my parents. Mainly my mother since I knew she would disapprove of it. And I was right. When I was 22 and I told her I am now pagan, she never gave me a second glance. Just an eye roll and thinking I’m trying to get out of going to church with her. No. This is something I made on my own. And this was around the time a friend I met at work was telling me about Ghost. I had Mary on a Cross playing since it was a song I was hearing all over Tiktok and I just liked the tune of it. So they told me a little about the band and showed me a few more of their songs that I was instantly clicking with. Year Zero and Cirice really got to hold onto me and given my past, it shows why Cirice really has a hold on me.

Even today, I am finding so many friends in this community who have some variety or religious trauma or just use the music to escape. I’ll say this, I’m glad I was introduced to it. It helps me when I am in my dark hours and when I feel like the world is crashing down on me. It is a temporary escape while I still live with my parents for the time being. However my happiness always has to come to an abrupt end. Present day me, did recently receive a letter that high school me did write. Everything was fine until I read one line of the letter…a line that nearly sent me over the edge when I read it…

“Hopefully you are still Catholic, if not pray to god and help yourself to get back into his love”

Even going to as far as to attached a picture of the letter to show I am not making any of this up…But yeah…thanks to the wonderful people who have been with me all through this little obsession, you guys mean the world to me…it’s true. If you do have ghost…you really do have everything

-Chloe

Below is the actual letter…

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Hi, I wanted to write ghoul’s night out antics, so here it is. This is pointless, they’re just being chaotic.

It’s late, the ghouls are all different degrees of drunk, it’s getting harder to maintain their glamor up in the dim light of the bar, and Swiss and Ifrit can’t keep their hands off of each other.

They’re probably the drunkest out of the little group that decided to go get drinks in town this otherwise boring Thursday night, and it shows. 

Swiss has a hand in Ifrit’s back pocket, an impressive fit given the vacuum sealed black jeans he’s wearing, groping the fire ghoul’s ass without any shame whatsoever. Ifrit isn’t much better, two hands shoved under Swiss’ shirt, roaming unsubtly on warm skin.

They’re swaying clumsily to the music, so close their foreheads keep knocking together, giggling and blushing in between heated kisses.

« Too much tongue, » Mist comments idly from her chair, spinning her beer bottle in her hands, « why do they always put too much tongue ? »

Rain shrugs on the stool next to her.

« Swiss likes it messy. »

« And Alpha taught Ifrit, » Pebble adds in a snigger that gets cut short when Alpha kicks his chair already kept in a precarious balance on two legs, sending Pebble sprawling on the floor. 

Dew silences them with an annoyed hush, invested in the two ghouls all over themselves a few feet away.

Swiss is mouthing at Ifrit’s neck now, the fire ghoul melting against him, hips canting up and knocking against Swiss’.

« Fritter’s getting worked up, » Aether chuckles, rubbing circles in the back of Dew’s hand.

« Bet his tail would be wagging if he were unglamored, » Pebble hums, still rubbing his elbow with a glare in Alpha’s direction, only looking away when the fire ghoul grins feral at him.

« ´s cute, » Mist huffs. She tilts her head back to down the rest of her bottle, gently knocking knees with Rain.

It is, in a way. At least until Ifrit scrambles for Swiss’ waist, pushing their hips together again. They rearrange themselves, heads on each other’s shoulders, in what could be a way to accommodate the slower romantic music, if not for the way their hips relentlessly grind together. 

They’re too drunk for subtlety, and what little costumers are still hanging around couldn’t miss what’s going on even if they tried to.

With a snort, Dew slouches against Aether, drumming his fingers on the arm the quint wrapped around his shoulders.

« Should we separate them, for decency’s sake, or wait and see how far they’ll go ? »

« C’mon, puddle, we all know you like the second option better, » Mist points out. She tries to take another swing from her bottle, only to to be reminded it’s empty. Aether hands her his, still half full, which she returns with a nod after a long sip.

The unmistakable sound of a half choked moan reaches their too keen to be human ears, Ifrit visibly biting his lip raw to keep some semblance of silence.

« Never been a quiet one, Ifrit. He’s gonna embarrass himself before the end of the song, I’m calling it, » Alpha huffs, now manspreading the day away next to Pebble, who, surprisingly, doesn’t protest.

Rain shakes his head, throwing his long legs on Dew’s lap.

« Nah, I have faith in him. He’ll hold on for two songs. »

« Oh you’re on, tadpole. »

With all their staring at Swiss and Ifrit, everyone misses Alpha’s hand slipping under the jacket thrown on Pebble’s lap, the way the earth ghoul tenses, a muscle twitching in his jaw, before he seemingly helplessly give in, legs parting slightly more.

Everyone but Mist, who sinks more comfortably in her seat to wait for when they’ll inevitably get kicked out. 

Who’s fault it will be is yet to be determined.

[visiosatanae]

not ready to let go

[copias-juicebox]

copias BIG ASS head.

Reblog if you agree.

[polariscroquis]

So, while I'm working on the Majesty illustration this time, I finally put together another video with a timelapse on the lineart and a voiceover from yours truly (a still blabbering mess yours truly, but here nonetheless).

I'm talking a little bit about lineart, coming up with the idea, what software I use, some studies you can do to improve your lineart (that I also did and helped me a LOT, so passing on the knowledge!) and a couple of other things along these lines.

This one though is 30 min long, 'cause the lineart took me a while :') (it's Terzo sitting on a throne, I went overboard with the details and it cost me TIME no regrets though)

Oh, I talk through 20 min, I think I should note that. And the intro is the most HORRIBLE intro you'll hear in your lifetime, I was nervous, apologies

Hope the tips actually help someone and I hope to see you guys soon with the whole illustration done, 'cause I'm actually pretty happy with this one!!

I'm a sucker for details, it's been a while I don't do something like this :')

[plaquerat]

i wanna call the bug stuff something like the Satanic Ministry of Gluttony but i feel like that's not coming off the way i intend even though Beelzebub is like... yk?

[macaroni-and-antifreeze]

since i was in the back of a car for 13 1/2 hours i was unfortunately too fuckin wiped out to do mary again but i still wanted a nice treat so....

The Best Of Mary Goore!!

These are my best pictures in cosplay plus a bonus of copia above my toilet

[copia]

does anyone have good photos of the layer underneath papa iii's outer robes (underneath the chasuble... perhaps the alb if my research is correct)?

[cowboyemeritus]

cw for predator/prey dynamics and violence (nonsexual).

Suddenly, everyone and their mother is anemic.

You don’t bat an eye with the first few patients. Fatigue isn’t uncommon given the lifestyle many residents of the Abbey have adopted. Though sloth is embraced as a deadly sin, the place would cease to function if you put everyone on bedrest, so the best you can do is advise against the excessive drinking and midnight orgies, encouraging rest whenever possible. As the cases pile up, you find it peculiar, but chalk it up to the time of the year. The stretch between Mabon and Yule is always chaotic, the unhallowed, ancient halls alive with merrymaking at all hours.

Then, the symptoms begin to progress. 

Dizziness and fainting spells. A Sister is brought to your office after Mass one evening. She collapsed when the congregation rose, smacking her head on a pew. You diagnose her with a mild concussion, recommend a few high-iron foods, and dismiss her from chores for the foreseeable future.

Weakness. A Brother working in the orchard loses his grip on a bushel of apples, crushing his foot. Sister Imperator grants your request to send him to the hospital, and he returns on crutches, looking utterly exhausted. You look into buying iron supplements in bulk. Imperator agrees without hesitation, which is unusual for her.

Pale, sallow skin. More noticeable on your fairer patients, but still consistent across the board. In the dining hall one morning, you overhear a pair of Sisters commiserating over how quickly they blow through foundation these days. Now eavesdropping, you listen in as they plan a shopping trip, making a point to stop by the salon in the hopes they can do something about their constantly breaking nails. You help the kitchen staff plan meals, and Imperator, with enthusiasm, approves your request for a set of “lucky” iron fish.

One would expect there be at least a little progress, but your efforts are all in vain. As the malady spreads and evolves, you feel only slightly more useful than a school nurse. Though Imperator has been remarkably permissive recently, she seems to draw the line at sending people to the hospital for anything other than serious injuries. She tells you it’s not necessary, that she has every faith in your ability to get this under control.

Now you’re suspicious, though why, you don’t know.

You turn to Cardinal Copia. Thank Lucifer for that man. Though timid and rather awkward, his ascension to head of the Ghost Project had prevented a power vacuum following the deaths of the previous Papas. His presence has been a stabilizing force. The residents of the Abbey are still warming up to him, grieving their sudden, jarring loss, but you decided you liked him almost immediately. He works hard, and though he is, at times, kind of ridiculous, he’s an earnest man. Imperator seems to favor him, so if there’s anyone who can successfully advocate for you, it has to be him.

After the tenth case, you schedule an appointment. He seems to only have availability in the evenings, and though it cuts into your meal time, it’s a price you’re more than willing to pay. You need to get to the bottom of this, and soon.

“I’m just not sure what it could be,” you admit, staring into your cup of tea. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, but it only gets worse.” You sigh, swirling the remaining liquid around in the delicate china cup. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Suddenly, you feel like crying. “What will it take for Imperator to do something?” Ripples begin to form as your hand trembles. You take a deep breath, your cheeks hot. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

The Cardinal gives you a sympathetic look. “I imagine this all must be, eh… stressful.” That doesn’t even begin to describe your feelings on the matter, but you nod anyways. Silence, thick and uncomfortable, falls over the room. You clear your throat before speaking again, glancing up at him.

“It’s a bit of a reach, but one of my friends from school is an epidemiologist at the hospital. I was thinking about calling her up, seeing what she has to say.” The faintest trace of something — is it surprise? — flashes in his eyes.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

What the fuck?

You’re utterly dumbfounded. The Cardinal was your last hope. You were so certain he would be on your side. “But-“

“Signorina,” he says, folding his hands on his desk in front of him, “this is an ancient religious order. We must maintain some level of secrecy. Outside intervention, even when intentions are good, can be… disruptive. Surely, you must understand that.” Seeing the bewildered look on your face, the Cardinal sighs. “You have done an excellent job caring for this Congregation. I could see that from then moment I arrived here. You are more than capable of handling this, I am sure of it.”

It takes you a moment to realize your mouth is still hanging agape. “Cardinal-“

“This is not up for debate.” The sudden intensity in his voice is startling, and you jolt. Lukewarm tea splashes onto your lap. “Whatever sway you think I have over Sister Imperator does not exist.” You’ve never heard him speak to anyone like this before. “Capisci? There is nothing I can do that will change her mind.” 

For a moment, there is something wild in his eyes. Now you’re too taken aback to continue arguing. This side of him is new, and more than a bit unsettling.

You swallow down the lump in your throat. “I understand, Cardinal.”

His gaze softens, and he sighs again, composing himself. “You are a smart woman, and I have faith in you. If there is anything else I can do to assist you, I will do it. Just not this.”

“I-“ You let out a long breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He smiles gently, and something about it turns your stomach.

You feel like a conspiracy theorist.

Just how deep does this go, you catch yourself thinking as you flip through your patient logs. With shame, you banish the thought. The Cardinal is right; the Ministry has more enemies than friends. By getting outside parties involved, you would make the whole organization vulnerable. Even if you disagree with the sentiment, you understand the logic.

Still, you can’t shake the feeling that something is amiss. There’s no good reason for them to let this go on, Ministry secrets be damned.

With a sigh, you shut your laptop, slumping back in your desk chair. It’s well past midnight, and continuing to pour over the data won’t get you anywhere. Not like anything you’ve tried has made a difference. 

Your back cracks as you stand, stiff from sitting all night. Today has been abnormally slow, even with the recent influx of patients, and you’re grateful for that. You had hoped that a little free time would help you clear your head and maybe get closer to solving this mystery, but here you are, your brain fried. There are no correlations, no commonalities that could point to a cause. The only similarity you’ve found between cases is that symptoms seem to appear in the morning.

In this day and age, waking up feeling like shit is an epidemic in and of itself. This revelation doesn’t get you any closer to an answer.

It’s a short walk to your quarters. You need to be close to the infirmary in case there’s an emergency in the night. As you turn the key, locking the door behind you, all your frustration and anxiety seems to come to a head. Your eyes sting, head coming to rest against the solid, antique oak.

Useless, you think. I’m-

“Are you alright?”

Your heart stops, then quickly resumes once the familiar voice registers. Turning, you find the Cardinal standing behind you, a sheepish look on his face.

“Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head. He’s forgone his biretta tonight, and you can’t help but notice the silver strands hidden in his mousy brown hair. It gives him an air of refinement in spite of… everything else about him. “I did not mean to startle you.”

“You’re fine,” you assure him, though his presence puts you on edge, recalling his outburst. Sighing, you lean back against the door in an attempt to look casual. “It’s been a long day.” He nods.

“I take it you haven’t made any progress?” The question has anxiety building in your chest, crushing your lungs. In all likelihood he’s just trying to make small talk, but it creates a nervous thought that quickly sinks its hooks into your mind:

Am I going to be fired if I can’t figure this out?

Again, the feeling of his eyes, boring into your soul. “I-“ There’s no use in lying to him. “No, Cardinal.” You can’t meet his gaze, choosing to look down at your sneakers. Once white, they’re closer to beige now.

You feel him approach before you see him. For a split second, the urge to run and lock yourself in your room is overpowering, but it’s as if you’re super-glued to the door. The Cardinal places a hand on your shoulder, and though you know it’s supposed to be a comforting gesture, It makes your skin crawl.

“Don’t give up just yet.” You never said you were. “The answer could be right in front of you.” Confused by this, you open your mouth to ask what he means, but the Cardinal is already retreating, his robes swishing behind him. “I believe in you, signorina. Get some rest.” Jaw still hanging open, you remain flat against the door, unable to move until the sick feeling in your stomach abates. Then you scurry back to your room, unable to shake the feeling you’re being watched.

The next morning, a Sibling doesn’t show for kitchen duty. A friend finds them in their room, struggling to breathe, lips blue. No longer caring about the consequences of insubordination, you drive them to A&E yourself, shattering the speed limit in the process. They’re half conscious the whole way, and on a particularly rough turn, they slump over, coming to rest against the passenger-side window.

That’s when you see it: two dots, puncture wounds, on their neck.

You had never looked for marks. Why would you? After hours of scouring the literature for leads, you come to the Earth-shattering conclusion that the Cardinal had, in a way, been right. The answer was right in front of you; you just hadn’t thought to look for it.

Blood-loss. But what kind of creature could be responsible? Though Ghouls are known to feast on human flesh, they are kept in line by their contracts. But you’re a nurse, not a sorceress. You have no idea how all this weird, magicky shit works. Hell, before taking this job, the idea that organisms like that even existed would have made you laugh.

But if there’s one thing you’ve learned during your tenure at the Abbey, it’s that nothing is impossible.

You have a working hypothesis, but don’t have the knowledge base to back it up. Fortunately, this is probably the only place on Earth that has a library dedicated to occult literature. Your next several lunch breaks are spent there, pouring over every tome you can get your hands on. Soon, though, it becomes painfully apparent that you can’t effectively do research in half-hour increments, and after sweet-talking the librarian, you find yourself carrying a stack of books back to your office. The pile is so heavy and so tall it takes all your focus to not drop them, having promised the clerk you would be careful. 

Rounding a corner, you slam into something that feels like a body. Though you’re going Mach Five, you somehow don’t plow through your unfortunate victim, the impact instead sending you toppling to the ground as books go flying. You hit the tile hard, wheezing as the wind is knocked out of you. It takes a moment to recover, at which point you remember there is a person you’ve just collided with.

“I’m so sorry! I-“ You look up and, of course, find the Cardinal standing before you, looking steady in spite of his usual clumsiness. “Uh, hi, Cardinal.”

“Hello.” Nothing about his disposition suggests he’s angry with you, but your palms clam up nonetheless, stomach already prickling with uneasiness. “Are you hurt?”

“N-no.” He offers you his hand and you force yourself to take it, letting him help you to your feet. “Thank you. Sorry about that.”

“Not a problem. You are doing some important research, I see.” He spies one of the books in your collection, raising an eyebrow. “The Bestiarium Infernalis?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “I did not peg you as the superstitious type.” You bark out a nervous laugh, trying to deflect.

“Just a bit of morbid curiosity,” you lie. “I don’t-“ Then the Cardinal eyes the weathered copy of Dracula among the scatter of tomes, and you freeze. Your face heats up, and suddenly, you feel rather childish.

“One of my favorites,” he says, picking up the book and thumbing through it. “A revolutionary piece of literature, wouldn’t you agree?” His mismatched eyes then turn to you. There is a coldness in them.

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, your heart thumping in your ears. “I think it’s interesting how Stoker was inspired by history as well as folklore. The real and the unreal.” The Cardinal chuckles.

“Every myth has a bit of truth to it. Just as history is warped by time.” Wordlessly, he gathers the rest of the books, handing the stack to you. “Enjoy your reading.” Then he shuffles past you, his footsteps echoing down the hall as you remain standing there, unable to move. All at once, the puzzle pieces click together.

Unholy shit.

You don’t sleep that night. How can you, when the Cardinal could be lurking in the shadows of your room, waiting to make a meal out of you? Every minuscule noise, from the wind outside to the scurrying of the rats in the walls, puts you on edge. By the time the sun rises you figure you must be out of danger, but that does nothing to ease the feeling of utter terror constricting your chest.

You want to call in sick. Hell, you want to pack your things and flee the Abbey altogether, leaving it and all its miserable secrets behind. But you can’t, not when there are people counting on you. Damn you and your sense of responsibility.

The Cardinal has to know. It’s only a matter of time before he makes a move. He never quite leaves your mind, but for a while he takes a backseat as you somehow carry on with your business, attending to the normal stream of patients. Time slips away like sand through your fingers, and before you know it, it’s dark again. Shit. How is that when you dread the coming of the night, the day seems to fly by? Usually it’s the opposite.

You’ve accepted that you won’t be sleeping again tonight. Or maybe ever. The idea of barricading yourself in your office briefly crosses your mind, but you figure that won’t be enough to stop him. Not even close. The only thing, you’ve determined, that could possibly put an end to his feeding frenzy is a stake in the heart.

As you’re packing up your things, making sure all your tools are put away in the right drawers, you catch yourself thinking about it. You’re fantasizing about killing the Cardinal. That gives you pause. What real evidence do you have against him? A gut feeling? Though your career has taught you a thing or two about trusting your instincts, this is a matter of life and death. If you’re wrong, you could kill an innocent man, and you doubt that “the ick” is admissible in a court of law. That probably wouldn’t matter anyway; Imperator would hang you first.

The Cardinal, though a weirdo and possibly a creep, is just that. Vampires aren’t real, and you’re losing your mind. Maybe you aren’t cut out for this job after all, cracking under the slightest amount of pressure. Suddenly leaving seems like the most appropriate course of action, if not for your sake, then for the sake of those you’re failing to care for.

The sound a lock tumbling shut cuts through the silence of the infirmary. You didn’t hear the door open or close. Paralyzed, you can’t make yourself turn and face the disturbance. Still, your whole body breaks out in goosebumps as you become aware of a malevolent presence behind you. It could only be one person.

“Cardinal,” you wager, trying to keep your voice steady, “are you feeling unwell?” All of a sudden you’re a little nauseous, your underarms beginning to sweat as you feel him draw closer.

“I am just fine,” he says. His footsteps make no sound. “I thought I might check in on you. How is your research coming along?”

“Good, actually.” There’s no point in obfuscating any longer. You know. He knows. “I think I’ve finally got the answer.”

He’s right behind you now. “Is that so? I am curious to know what you have found.”

How do you even start?

“You are afraid,” he observes, his breath against your neck. “I can smell it on you.” He sniffs again. Your body betrays you, and you gulp. “Garlic on your hands. Did you really believe having Italian for dinner would protect you from me?” Your stomach drops, like you’re plummeting off the Chapel spire.

“So it is you,” you murmur. “You’re...” A vampire? It’s too ridiculous to say out loud. You feel like a lunatic just thinking it. “You’ve been enjoying watching me run around, scrambling to figure this out when it was you all along, haven’t you?” The Cardinal laughs. It’s sickening.

“I have, and I am. What are you going to do about it, Miss Nurse?” A gloved hand finds your throat, squeezing just enough that your heart begins to race. The leather is thick, but even still, you’d expect to feel some warmth through it. His fingers are like ice. How have you never noticed that? “Are you going to call your little friend at the hospital? Bring in an actual doctor?”

“N-no.” You curse yourself for the tremble in your voice. You let out a shaky breath, fists clenching. “I’m going to make a deal with you.” 

“A deal?” A beat passes. You’re half expecting the Cardinal to sink his fangs into your neck and end this, but he remains still, like a statue. “Please, enlighten me.”

Fuck. Fuck my life. “Feed from me. I’ll give you my blood whenever you want. As much and as often as I physically can. Just promise you’ll leave everyone else alone.”

The Cardinal hums, intrigued. “Sacrificing yourself to protect the rest of the herd? How noble.” He laughs again. It’s full of cruelty. “And what makes you think I would accept such a deal? What can you possibly give that I can’t just… take?” The leather of his gloves creaks as his grip tightens. Your eyes sting, welling up.

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice breaking. A tear spills over, then another, carving hot trails down your cheeks. “I really don’t know.” You think of your mother, and how she would rock you back to sleep after a nightmare. Maybe this is all a bad dream, and soon enough you’ll wake up, your cries beckoning her to your side. You would give anything to be in her arms right now.

“Then, why?”

“I made an oath,” you say, sniffling, “to devote myself to the welfare of those in my care. I’d be breaking that pledge if I just let you do this.” At this point you’re fighting back sobs. “I at least had to try.” You feel as pathetic as you sound.

He huffs. “That’s adorable. Really. Human altruism is a remarkable thing.” His grip on you loosens, a gloved finger tracing the artery in your neck. “It is a miracle you have not all gone extinct. Lucky me.”

Anger flares in the pit of your stomach. He acts like this makes him superior somehow, but-

“You were human once, weren’t you?” Your words tumble out like stones in a river. The silence that follows is so overwhelming, for a moment, you’re certain you must already be dead. The Cardinal is cold and rigid against you, a corpse on two legs.

“You know what? I will take this deal of yours.” Before you can even blink, you find yourself being flung down onto one of the rickety old cots lining the wall, the springs creaking under your weight. You shriek, hoping for a moment that the racket will grab someone’s attention, but then take that thought back. The Cardinal looms over you, sneering, and for the first time, you see his fangs. Long and sharp, they glimmer in the lamplight like daggers. A gloved hand claps over your mouth, and although this is technically what you wanted, you can’t help but struggle beneath him. “I am going to enjoy draining the life from you. Now, stay still, usignola. I do not want to tear your throat out just yet.”

Then, he descends. You scream into his palm as his teeth pierce your neck.

"it's almost christmas," i say, wip open. "vampire season is over."

i am a fool.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Dead on main. Singer! Phantom x Red Hood!Jason

Laws are easily changed if businessmen smell money.

Paulina and Sam suggest Danny to try to become a singer in order to change society's opinion about ghosts a little. In the end, the otherworldly sound of his voice can at least be used for the benefit of Realms.

And it seems like the Everlasting Trio is really liked by the public. At first they just release a few songs (Exams kill, Battle with myself, What an Autopsy Won't Show, Among the stars). But a mysterious atmosphere mixed with understandable teenage problems begins to take over teens playlists. Their fans want more and more.

So, when under the pressure of the public and profit-hungry bigwigs all bans on the presence of ecto creatures in the United States are lifted, the Trio goes on their first Tour.

~~~~~

Jason stumbles upon Phantom's songs completely by accident. It was painful to hear them for the first time but at the same time it was as if he could breathe again because he had found someone similar. Someone who understands, and who doesn't judge him for coming back wrong. Jason listens to his voice on repeat and the rage seems to recede and subside. There is sadness of loss and fear in the songs but most of them end bringing some hope and this thought gives Red Hood more strength not to break down for another day. and then another, and another..And one day, the green eyes in the mirror do not scare Jason but shows him that he belonging to something more. Todd can't explain it more precisely, but it was as if the waters of Lazarus inside him had calmed down and he was no longer enemies with them. He even jokes with Tim that he is finally rest in peace and ready to live a full undead life when his brother (God, his lil brother whom he wanted to hurt recently because of his own stupidity), asks him about his strange behavior.

~~~~~

Jason forgets how to breathe again. His favorite band, and most importantly his favorite vocalist, is coming to Gotham with a concert. For many years now, none of the nonresidents have dared to take such a risk, but it seems like Phantom has absolutely no instinct for self-preservation. Well, as a true fan, Red Hood will do his best so that none of the gothamites spoil the Trio's impression of their first concert here. Danny is beside himself with excitement. Their concert in the hometown of the Red Hood was approved. Of course, there is no chance that he would be able to meet such a busy vigilante but Phantom continues to dream. If he'll fly a little over the city instead of sleeping after rehearsals, maybe he'll get an autograph from at least one member of the bat clan.

~~~~~ Phantom: Thank you very much Mr. Nightwing sir. Just sign it for.. Nightwing: For a Phantom, right? Huh, I recognized you, my brother has poster in his room. Nice hairstyle by the way. Danny*urgently*: Which one of them?

Nightwing: Jeez, and I thought it was just a stage image. Ghosts are kinda creepy. Terribly persistent, to be precise. And yeah, Jason, he absolutely not against you as a vigilante. You can safely ask Phantom to sign your helmet, I promise. Man was so happy when find out you're listening to his songs, you have no idea.

Jason *holds out a hand*. Nightwing: What? Jason: If you dared to meet Phantom before me, then where is my autograph? Nightwing: Em..oops? I gave him mine if it helps.

Jason: *sounds of an angry lazarus demon*.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Alpha & Pebble my beautifully fucked up boys ! Here’s them fighting because they don’t know how to communicate. Angst, but with some tiny bit of comfort ? Maybe ? I’m not sure it really is comfort but well.

Alpha’s not sure what the Sibling of Sin said, he only caught the tail end of a mean laugh, but it must’ve been about Delta ; it’s the only thing that could get that reaction out of Pebble. Snarl peeling his lips so far back it looks borderline painful, eyes blazing, tail whipping the air, claws extended.

The earth ghoul is about to pounce on the stupid, stupid human, rip them to shreds and risk being sent back to the pit for the offense it represents. Alpha acts on instinct alone.

The fire ghoul barely manages to catch the back of Pebble’s uniform just as the earth ghoul leaps toward the Sibling. Pebble didn’t see Alpha coming, too blinded by rage, and is caught by surprise ; in a second, and despite his vigorous thrashing, Alpha has the earth ghoul in a chokehold, his arm digging into Pebble’s neck in an effort to keep him from committing first degree murder.

The Sibling blanches at the display, finally realizing their stupidity, the amount of danger they’ve subjected themselves to by sheer malice, and scurries away while they still can. 

Alpha curses as he drags Pebble away, sharp kicks surely bruising his legs, claws raking along his arm in an attempt to make him let go. No chance. Alpha only tightens his hold, cutting Pebble’s airways even more off until the earth ghoul’s knees buckle under him and he let himself be thrown into the common room.

Alpha only grants him a few seconds to take deep, gasping breaths before taking two fistful of the front of Pebble’s uniform, hauling him up against the wall ; with the earth ghoul being a good head shorter than Alpha, and pretty light in comparison,  it’s easy for the fire ghoul to pin Pebble there, his feet barely grazing the ground.

« Are you stupid ?! » Alpha growls inches from Pebble’s face.

« Let go you fucking-»

« No, » Alpha grunts, baring his own fangs, « I asked you a question. Are you fucking stupid ?! That what you earth ghouls do, smoke your brains away ?! You know what happens to dumb sons of bitches who harm members of the Church ?! Do you want to be sent back, away from you greenhouse, your home, your pack ?! »

Pebble blinks, momentarily stunned by the reason behind Alpha’s anger, before his face contorts once again and venom creeps back in the pale green of his eyes.

« So you’d let that piece of shit say whatever they want ? Insult Delta whenever they like ? »

So Alpha was right, it was indeed about Delta. The fire ghoul doesn’t get to say what he wants, Pebble is on a roll.

« Yes, of course you would. Pack only matters when it suits you, yeah ? When it’s convenient. But the second protecting it might cause troubles, you back off like the coward you are. Is there any of us you’d take actual risks for ? Is there anyone outside of Omega, oh so precious Omega, you would sacrifice things for ? »

Alpha sees red, Pebble’s word cutting deep, hitting a nerve dead on. How dare he. How dare Pebble question everything Alpha did for the pack ? The fire ghoul doesn’t know if he wants to rip the earth ghoul’s tongue out or curl into himself to sob. 

Pebble opens his mouth to go on, and Alpha is absolutely sure he cannot take a drop more of the earth ghoul’s venom, that infamous venom of his that slithers into your veins, wraps around your heart, squeezes until it bursts.

Alpha throws Pebble to the ground, sits on his chest, raises a fist - aiming for his face, maybe his nose, anything that would make the earth ghoul shut up, shut up, shut up.

That’s when Alpha catches the glimmer of hope in Pebble’s eyes, realization dawning on him with the effect of a cold shower. Pebble itches for a fight. Wants to get hit, beaten up to a pulp, and who better to rile up for that than Alpha, short-tempered, sparring enthusiast Alpha ?

As always, Pebble is seeking what he cannot ask for, and seeking it from Alpha. 

The fire ghoul stills, fist still raised. Pebble waits, tense as a bowstring, eyeing it almost voraciously. But there, under the anger and inexplicable need to be hurt, something fragile, vulnerable hides. 

Whatever the Sibling said, Pebble took it to heart.

Alpha’s eyes slip closed, a shuddering sigh escaping him as he brings his hand down slowly, grabbing Pebble’s jaw firmly, but with unusual gentleness. The earth ghoul stiffens.

« You know damn well I take care of my pack. And, whether you like it or not, you are pack too. So the next time you want to be used as a fucking punching bag, you join me on the mat instead of running your fucking mouth and goading me into damn near killing you. »

Despite the simmering fury in Alpha’s voice, his hand doesn’t tightens, simply stays there, holding.

Pebble’s eyes flash with both desperation and rage.

« Don’t pretend to care- »

Alpha growls again, tail slapping against the floor harshly enough to sting.

« Stop telling me how I feel, Pebble. My feelings are mine, you don’t get to twist them into what’s more convenient for you. »

All the fight seems to rush out of the earth ghoul’s body at that. Pebble’s muscles all let go at once, his face growing weary, almost melancholic. He avoids Alpha’s eyes, nods curtly.

« Got it. »

Alpha can’t help the way his eyebrows skyrocket toward his hairline at that, but doesn’t comment. It’s as close an apology as he’ll get from Pebble.

The earth ghoul is staring at Alpha’s arm, jaw clenching hard. There’s a few rivulets of blood trickling from the claw marks Pebble left on it in his efforts to free himself.

For a moment, they stay frozen like this, something akin to « what now ? » floating in the heavy silence between them.

A door slamming in the distance snaps them out of it. Alpha let go of Pebble, stands up to let the earth ghoul do the same. Pebble runs a hand through his short, messy hair, strands spiking in every directions. 

Sighing heavily, Alpha adjusts his shirt, glad that he wasn’t wearing his own uniform, or else he’d have a lot of explaining to do as to why his sleeve would be in tatters. Again.

From the corner of his eyes, the fire ghoul spies Pebble awkwardly straightening his collar, somehow seeming reluctant to leave. Alpha watches him, and yet, he’s caught completely off guard when the earth ghoul grabs his injured arm, careful to avoid the cuts, eyes glaring daggers at the consequences of his own anger.

The strangeness of the situation keeps Alpha frozen, eyes glued to Pebble’s face. The near permanent crease between the earth ghoul’s eyebrows, the scar cutting through the bridge of his nose, the smattering of freckles across his cheekbones, the scruff eating away at his cheeks, everything is thrown into sharp focus by their sudden stillness.

When the earth ghoul looks up at Alpha, the fire ghoul wonders what he sees. Yellow eyes Pebble’s dying to gouge out ? Already crooked nose the earth ghoul longs to break into an even more unsavory form ? Deep claw marks on his cheek he’d like to extend ? But the look in Pebble’s eyes doesn’t hold any murderous intent. It’s conflicted, confused, the abrupt change in their usual dynamic rendering him just as silent as Alpha. 

For once, they are both out of words. A miracle, really.

Then, Pebble let go so suddenly you’d think Alpha lost control of his fire and inflicted him a third degree burn.

« You should get those checked out, » the earth ghoul mumbles, resolutely staring at his feet.

Alpha blinks, lost for a moment, before remembering his injuries.

« Those are just scratches. »

Pebble scoffs, but doesn’t add anything, fleeing the room without once meeting Alpha’s eyes again.

The fire ghoul heaves a sigh, scrubs his hand over his face. He feels weird, Pebble’s expression when he took stock of the damages he’d done lingering in his mind. 

Alpha hopes Mist will let him share a smoke with her tonight, Satan knows he could use her blunt honesty to understand whatever the fuck just happened.

But first, he has a Sibling to scare the living daylight out of to ensure they won’t breath a word of Pebble’s near slip up.

[emptymasks]

They're done! I really want to try and make prints again as it's been years and I've never felt like I was very good at making whole posters. Dipping my toe back in with these silly chibis of each Papa with every Ghoul they've had. Perhaps they can also work as a guide for those wanting to learn all the characters? I added in a fair amount of little references with the Ghoul's poses so it'll be interesting to see what you guys figure out and notice!

The prints are on pre-order and won't ship out until November. I've put up 25 of each to start with but if they get low on stock I'll keep adding more until I have them printed and then it'll be a set amount in stock.

Also a reminder about the stickers of every Ghost Papa and Ghoul that I made earlier this year that are also available as customisable badges! Thank you so much to everyone who already bought them and got Etsy to list them as a 'bestseller' for a while. They're still up and in stock.

EDIT: someone informed me Delta was not in Secondo's era so sorry little water ghoul but he got edited out of that drawing.

Characters featured on the prints and are also available on stickers and badges: Papa Emeritus I / Primo, Papa Emeritus II / Secondo, Papa Emerirus III / Terzo, Papa Emeritus IV / Cardinal Copia, Aether, Air, Alpha / Fire, Aurora, Chain / Water, Cirrus, Cowbell, Cumulus, Delta, Dewdrop / Sodo, Earth, Ifrit, Ivy, Lake, Mist, Mountain, Omega / Quintessence, Pebble, Phantom, Phil / Special Ghoul, Rain, Sunshine, Swiss, Zephy.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[ID: Four landscape drawings, one for each of Ghost's Papas and the Ghouls that were in the band with them while they were the lead singer. Each Papa is in the center with each of their ghouls standings to their sides. Every character has their name written above or below them, on brightly coloured backgrounds for each Papa's robe colour. Also, individual pixel art chibi drawings of 69 characters from various European musicals (listed above) that are available as stickers. These drawings are also available as badges where they are placed inside circles to show what they will look like as physical button badges, some of them with plain colour backgrounds and some with 1-3 different pride flags as examples of how you can customise the backgrounds.]

For those who want to know what the little references in the prints are and don't want to guess, they're under the cut:

Omega can be a stompy boy when he's playing guitar, Alpha likes to throw up peace signs, Air is very found of the rock horns hand symbol, there's one close-up photo of Lake out there where you can clearly see his black sclera contacts and he's doing double 'horns' hand symbol, Mountain infamously takes his shoes off when playing the drums and leaves them on the stage at the site of his drumkit, Dewdrop likes to like.. most things including his guitar and his picks and sometimes his own hand, Pebble liked to hand out his drumsticks at the end of shows by dropkicking them into the crowd, Omega wore a flower tucked into his guitar strap during one show and Terzo constantly flirts with him more than other ghouls, Delta is suspected to be the ghoul that attempted to kick an audience member off stage when they climbed onstage and attempted to kiss Terzo, Zephyr was the only band member and only keyboardist who sat down while playing, the special ghoul played by Tobias wore a nametag 'Phil' in an interview, Swiss constantly is showing all his teethies with his smiles and always wiggling and moving around, Aether and Dewdrop often interact with Dew teasing/bothering Aether, Dew and Rain also often interact with Dew constantly reaching to grab his neck and attempt to kiss him, aaaand I think that's everything I intentionally included other than just generally tried to get the poses and expressions to match the personality we've seen from each ghoul.

[polariscroquis]

I've been away for a while, 'cause as I mentioned before, my health isn't the best - I have ups and downs and currently I've been on some downs.

But I'm getting back to my routine again and I've been working on a Hunter's Moon inspired illustration! I recorded the lineart process and I figured it might help - I used to watch lots and lots of videos like that to make mine better. Maybe it'll be useful for someone!

(just a heads up, it's a 20 min long video 'cause it took me around 3 or 4 hours to get it done, I did my best on speeding up this thing)

When I get to the coloring, I'll also record it and I'm thinking about making a voiceover explaining a bit of my overall process - inspiration, finding ideas, defining style, composition, sketch, lineart, color palette and coloring.

Looks like a lot of stuff but it's actually a lot less "impressive", so to speak.

Hope you guys like it and can't wait to finish this one!! Hopefully it'll be soon!

[siren-141]

unholy

summary: you get picked up by a mechanic shop owner after your car breaks down. the night turns into something that you both needed. pairing: mechanic shop owner Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader warnings: car sex, age gap (reader is at least mid-20s, simon is about 40 in this one), slight size kink if you squint, semi-public sex but not really (in reader's driveway but nobody's around), fingering, oral (m rec), justified cheating (not against reader; simon's married but his wife fucking sucks and is cheating on him already) word count: 2.8k a/n: so this actually took me two months to write lol but enjoy :)))

COD masterlist ☾ main masterlist

18+ only, minors DNI

This was honestly the last thing you needed.

Standing on the side of the road, you looked at your pathetic car, tire barely hanging onto the wheel after it was blown out. You hadn’t even realized that you were speeding down the old road, let alone that you were flying over a fairly deep pothole. You realized it though when you had to hit the brakes and saw the smoke from your front passenger side rising up.

It was just around midnight, and you had just left the bar where a local band had been playing. You needed a pick-me-up after the week you’d have – hell, after the month you’d had. Busy in school, assignments coming at you non-stop, dealing with being newly single and frustrated. Why did guys have to suck so much? Whatever – no time to think about that now.

Calling a few tow truck services, there was no luck. Either you were too far out or too expensive, taking advantage of the female voice they were talking to to jack up their prices. Family over an hour away and friends that were close enough to come get you, but you couldn’t leave your car here on the side of the road, who knew if it would still be there in the morning? All you could do was thank the gods that you had taken the back roads home, choosing the scenic route so you could blast your music and take your time getting home, instead of going on the interstate and having a blowout.

While you were tapping away at your phone trying to think of different options, you could see headlights in the distance. Squinting, you couldn’t decide if you wanted the person to stop or if you’d rather take your chances being out at night alone. Watching as they got closer, you breathed a sigh of relief as you watched the truck pull off to the side of the road just up ahead.

The door opened, and out came this hulking of a man. Easily 6’4”, shoulders broad as ever, sauntering over to you in a scuffed up pair of work pants, a white shirt that wasn’t so white with all the oil stains on it, and an unzipped black jacket. You couldn’t really see his face, a plain black mask covering from his nose down. From his look alone, you didn’t know if you should be turned on or afraid for your life – somehow, you chose the first.

“You okay?” he called out, voice deep and gruff.

“Yeah, I just-” you sighed, cutting yourself off. “Left the bar earlier. Tire blew out, I hit that pothole back there. Towing companies are either too far out or charging too much.”

He nodded his head, walking around to inspect your wheel. He squatted down and even as close to the ground as he was, he still came up to your stomach. Fuck, this guy was big.

“I can get a ride home but I don’t want to leave my car out overnight, probably wouldn’t be here by the time I came to get it tomorrow,” you explained, fidgeting with your phone. You could see the man’s shoulders and back move, almost like he had scoffed at your suggestion.

“Nonsense,” he stood back up, walking closer to you – taking in how you looked. Black lacy top with dramatic bell sleeves on it, a flowy black miniskirt. Platform boots that made you a few inches taller, but still much smaller than him. There was no way on earth that he’d have seen you and not pulled over to help. “I can call one of my guys to come pick up your car and bring it to my shop to stay overnight. I can bring you home if you wouldn’t mind, your friends wouldn’t have to wake up and drive out here.”

You weighed your options and somehow, that was the best one you had. “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”

About 10 minutes later, a man pulled up in a tow truck, having the man move his truck from in front of you so he could back the tow truck up to the front of your car. As the man got out of the car, you saw that he was attractive too – dark brown skin that looked as smooth as ever, sparkling eyes that smiled kindly at you even though it was half past midnight. Grey sweats and a black hoodie with a mechanic shop logo on the front – you guessed that they worked together. You stood back as you watched the two men hook up your car and load it up.

“Thanks Gaz, owe you one.”

“‘s no problem, Simon,” Gaz clapped him on the shoulder, giving you a quaint smile and wave before getting into the tow truck and hauling your car back the way he had just come from.

–

“So,” you said as you got into the truck with your savior for the night. “You just know a 24/7 road service guy, huh?”

“Mhm,” he said, driving down the road. “I own that mechanic shop a couple miles back that way. Opened it up whenever I retired. He works with me.”

You nodded your head, keeping the conversation light. You figured he wasn’t one for nonsensical small talk, considering he had been quiet so far, only really saying what was needed. You could appreciate that.

“So where’d you retire from?” You asked him, looking out the side window at the trees starting to disappear the more you got into town.

“Military,” was all he said, still keeping it short and light. You hummed, figuring he’d talk more about it if he wanted to.

“What do you do?”

Your eyes unfocused from the trees, and you shifted in your seat. “I’m in school, grad school. Work in one of the offices on campus during the week. Gets boring but it pays for my schooling, and I enjoy being there, so that’s what counts I guess.”

It was silent for a minute.

“Got out of the military couple of years back, whole squad actually retired together. Came back, married a nice girl. Two step-kids – teeangers, really. Boy and a girl.”

You almost deflated in your seat. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected much – your love life was filled with disappointments littered throughout. Maybe his friend Gaz was single. But this was still a kind stranger that thankfully was not a serial killer, and you were still grateful for all of his help tonight.

“Oh, that’s nice.” He grunted, rolling his eyes at the statement. Whoops.

“She’s busy at her office. Works at one of the law firm buildings downtown. Got her sister watching the kids at her house.”

“Thought they closed at 5..?” you asked, eyebrows creased in confusion.

“They do. The CEO stays late sometimes though. Think she just wanted an upgrade from a shop owner.”

Oh.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, focusing your attention back on the buildings going past you.

“So you went to the bar by yourself?” he asked, cutting the silence once again. You confirmed for him, telling him your friends either had work that night or just couldn’t make it for some other reason.

“Mm. Boyfriend didn’t come out with you then?” Now you snorted, rolling your eyes.

“No such thing. Actually just left him about a week ago. Too immature,” you started. “He could never keep up with anything…no job, no hobbies. Never any time for me either way.”

“Hm. Sounds like you need a real man in your life then, yeah?”

You could feel your face heat up. Shifting in your seat to press your thighs together without him noticing, you tried to keep your cool. You weren’t dumb – you could see that Simon was older than you at least by 15 years. Not only did he have a job, but he owned the damn place. Established. Smart. Married. But, married to a cheating wife in a loveless marriage. And here you were: had a job, in school. Established for your age. Frustrated. Sexually frustrated.

“Guess so,” you looked over at him, meeting his eyes briefly until you had to look away, face heating up. He focused back on the road.

It was silent after that. The radio played classic rock on its station, and you found yourself deep in thought about everything going on – about the man giving you a ride home. Your leg bounced up and down nervously, and didn’t stop when he pulled into the driveway of your apartment. Biting at the inside of your lip, you didn’t even realize that you had made it yet.

You could hear him sigh, and it snapped you out of your thoughts. Before you could even think about thanking him and going inside, he reached over and grabbed your thigh. “Stop the bouncing, love.”

Your lips parted, not expecting his actions. Your leg stopped bouncing, your heart taking its place, hammering in your chest. You watched his thumb run across your skin before you looked over at him, honey eyes meeting yours.

His hand crept up your thigh, squeezing at the plushness of it before continuing upwards. He gently nudged at your other leg, and you caught the hint, slightly spreading them – just enough room for his hand to fit in the middle. His finger lightly rubbed over your clothed clit, feeling the lace of your panties under the rough pad of his fingertip.

He looked down, taking off his mask and carefully putting it on his gear shift. When he looked up at you again, you scanned his face. He was easily one of the most attractive men you had seen – amber-colored eyes looking right back at you, a scar running through his eyebrow and one cutting into his top lip.

He pressed a little harder against your clit, a shiver going down your spine and a small gasp coming from you. You were sure that if you looked in a mirror, your pupils would have been completely dilated at that point.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, leaning in closer but continuing his movements. You could see his hardened cock straining against his pants.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed against him, his lips just inches from yours.

“I know,” his fingers slipped past the lace and began to rub directly onto your clit, dipping down to bring your slick up for more lube. You held back a whimper at the feeling of his finger rubbing circles into your nub, legs opening wider. “So tell me to stop.”

His fingers pushed into you, going slow to let you adjust to the new feeling. You can’t remember the last time anything other than your toys or your own fingers was down there. Two fingers slid in and out of you, and you could hear the sound of your slick, very audible in the small cab of his truck. Crooking his fingers, he pressed against your sweet spot, and you couldn’t hold back the whine that came from your lips. “Answer.”

“I can’t,” his lips crashed against yours, your hand coming up to the back of his neck to pull him closer. His tongue slipped into your mouth, taking control – you let him. There was nothing more that you wanted in this moment than for him to take control. His lips fit perfectly against yours, slotted as you kissed for what seemed like forever before he pulled away.

“Take these off,” he snapped the waistband of your panties and you rushed to slide them off, leaving your skirt on. Your hands shook with anticipation as you kicked the fabric off from around your boots, leaving it on the floor of his truck. His large hand cupped the side of your face, leading you right back to him to kiss you again. You reached over to grab at his bulge, and he lifted his hips up just enough to slide his pants and briefs down to his thighs and free his hard cock. Wrapping your hand around it, he groaned and you broke the kiss to get a good look at him.

Eyes going wide, he was huge. You could have assumed, given the size of his body, but fuck. Your fingers could barely touch when wrapped around his cock, vein running on the underside of it, his tip growing red and leaking. “Shit,” you whispered, eyes fixated on him. You gave him a couple of strokes, thumb pressing on top of his tip, and his head tilted back until it hit the headrest of the seat, eyes closed. You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore, feeling like you were going to go into a frenzy.

Leaning down, you took him into your mouth slowly, moaning around him from the taste. “Up,” he said, tapping your back, and you popped off of him, repositioning yourself to kneel sideways in the passenger seat. Going back to your previous actions, you bent down and took him into your mouth again, lapping at his head while you stroked the rest of him with your hand. You could feel him shift, and then felt his hand gripping at your ass.

Even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel that his entire hand covered most of your ass, and you could only imagine what it looked like. His fingers ran through your cunt, feeling the slick that had gathered there and smeared on your thighs. He toyed at your clit before pushing two of his fingers back in, making you moan around his cock. The feeling of being filled pushed you, bobbing your head down further down his cock.

“Fuck, you feel so good, love,” he breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again, taking in the sight in front of him. Pretty girl sucking his cock, hair pulled back out of your face with his large hand, back arched in the seat next to him as he fingered your tight hole.

You raised your head up, letting spit pool in your mouth before letting it drop onto his cock, adding more lubricant to suck him off easier. As you went back down, he picked up his pace. You arched your back even more, pushing back against his hand for more, and he pulled your hair a little tighter in his hand.

He could tell you were about to cum – you didn’t even have to say it. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, could see how you’d deepen the arch every time he hit that magic spot in you. He could feel you unintentionally slowing down.

Crooking his fingers just right, he pushed deeper into you and that was your undoing. Your voice was partially muffled as you came, moaning and whimpering around his cock as much as you could, stopping all movement with your tongue but unintentionally sinking down further on him as your whole body tightened from your orgasm washing over you. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you preened at the euphoric feeling running through your veins, head a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the blood pumping hard through you.

Seeing you come undone and your brain essentially melt from the orgasm was the last straw for Simon. Pressing his head back into the truck’s headrest, he groaned as he spilled down your throat, large hand squeezing at your ass enough to leave reddened skin behind. His hips pushed up just the tiniest bit each time more cum would spurt out, and you gladly swallowed it all.

Your mind was a haze as you pulled off of him, weakly sitting up and the both of you fixing your clothing. You adjusted back to normal in your seat, reaching down to grab your panties that had been tossed on the floor, and before you could even think of putting them back on or at the very least walking inside with them, the man beside you took them out of your hand. You watched as he pocketed them.

“Just something to remember you by, hm?” You looked down, hands fidgeting as a small smile crept on your face.

“Well…thanks for the ride,” you said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as if your jaw wasn’t starting to ache from being stuffed full just minutes ago. Before you could grab for the door handle, Simon had cupped the back of your neck and kissed you again, this time gentler.

“Remember your car tomorrow,” he said, almost a whisper. From the look in his eyes, you knew that this was far from the last time you’d be meeting him under these circumstances. From the look in your eyes, he knew that you needed this just as much as he did.

Nodding your head, you gave him a small smile and left the truck, walking inside your apartment and shutting the door behind you. You listened to him drive off after he saw that you had made it in safely, and your head just spun. You don’t know what the hell just happened, but you’re glad it did.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One of Rock Star Eddie and Baker Steve wrong number AU

Link to Part Two

Eddie's got dubious history with picture messages. Only a very small group of people have his number, considering he's the front man of a multimillion best selling metal band, he doesn't ever want his number to be public knowledge.

So yeah, picture message from and unknown number? Dubious.

Eddie's had enough dick and...vag...pics in his time that he, honestly, doesn't really want another. But when the picture is followed by a message, "were you thinking something like this?"

Well, Eddie's a curious guy. So, committing himself to the idea that this might be new number time, again, he opens the message.

To be confronted with a cake. A really fucking cool cake actually, it's got a car dashing around a muddy track on top with a big '5' in the middle. All of it looks edible, made out of...cake stuff. Eddie has no idea what it is, but it looks delicious.

"One layer chocolate, one layer red velvet? I can do any combination of flavours you want."

Well. Eddie isn't anything but impulsive and he was trying to figure out what the fuck to do for the 'quiet' celebration they were planning for going platinum. Again.

"I think you have the wrong number'" Eddie types, "but I definitely want to order a cake from you."

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, unsolicited cake pics are the worst 😉"

And Eddie can't help it, he laughs, and types back, "if I told you I wanted three tiers of the darkest, spookiest, cherry chocolate what would you come up with?"

It takes a couple of minutes, but Eddie's phone pings twice in quick succession, the first picture is of a spooky orange cake clearly Halloween themed, covered in ghosts and skeletons and stuff. The second is jet black and has a coffin on top that looks like it's leaking green corrosive stuff and Eddie nearly throws his phone in excitement. "That! The second one!"

"🤣 that's an old pic, I was just starting out then, but everything is edible, the green slime is made out of jello"

"Where are you based and can you make it for the 15th? I'll get a courier to collect."

"Sure thing, how many portions? And I need a deposit up front. I'll do chocolate ganache and cherry filling."

"Errr...like, 150? Maybe?"

Eddie sits and watches as the dots appear and disappear, appear and disappear, and then there's a pic.

It's a selfie of the most beautiful man he's ever seen. And he's standing in a kitchen, holding a cake pan. Suddenly Eddie's phone is ringing in his hand and he is panicking because beautiful man is calling him. "Hello?"

"Hey, man, it's Steve, the cake guy?". Eddie assumes he makes an affirmative noise because Steve keeps talking, "anyway, that cake pan I'm holding is literally the largest one I own, even if I did three tiers, no way will it cater that many, I'm a small business, you know, it's just me. I can recommend you some companies I know would do a great job."

But then, Eddie will never get to talk to beautiful man ever again, "what if you made like, three cakes?". He asks desperately.

There's a long beat of silence on the phone, "I mean, in theory, I mean, it might cost you more than-"

"I'll pay it. I'll pay double, for, inconvenience, or whatever-"

And oh no, beautiful man has the most beautiful laugh too. Eddie's fucked. He's so fucked.

"I'll raise you, two cakes and fifty muffins?" Steve laughs again, and Eddie laughs right along with him.

Steve grabs his phone when it pings, hoping for Eddie. It is Eddie. It's a selfie from the neck down, like always, Steve still doesn't know what the guy looks like, but Eddie's wearing a deep red shirt that he's clearly just dumped a whole cup of coffee down, "hope your days going better than mine, sweetheart,"

Steve sends back a selfie with a lump of uncooperative modelling fondant in the background, "that depends, can you tell what this is supposed to be?"

Steve's pretty sure it's wierd to talk to a customer every day, but he's started to find he's looking forward to Eddie's messages. Even when they turn flirty. Especially when they turn flirty, maybe.

And maybe it's not exactly professional that Steve's found a lot of reasons to call Eddie. He just, needs to get this right, and if Eddie wants chocolate covered cherries on the cupcakes, well, Steve needs to call him and check, right? Right.

Steve heads out into the lounge with flour on his nose and a mixing bowl under his arm, Dustin, Lucas and Max are sprawled on the couch, El lying on the floor. He can hear Mike and Will fucking around outside. He spoons up some cherry mixture, "hey will you try-"

"Shhhhhhhh!"

Well. Rude. Steve looks to the interview they're watching on the TV. It's some metal band Steve vaguely recognises, and when the lead guy speaks...Steve has to sit down. Because that sounds a lot like-

"So, Eddie," the show host guy starts, and Steve's knees would go weak of he wasn't already sitting down. He's certain his stomach has left the building. "Seeing anyone?"

Eddie laughs, says no, but the band mate next to him makes a show of nudging Eddie and sharing a look.

The host picks up on it immediately, "so there is someone," Eddie's still shaking his head, but he's got a shy smile on his face that makes Steve feel like he's melting. "Come on Eddie, give us something."

"It's not a thing," Eddie flaps his hands, "don't make it a thing."

"Oh it's a thing alright," the audience laugh, "come on, give us something!"

Eddie looks uncomfortable for a second before shrugging, "they, uhm, they make the most amazing cakes you've ever seen."

[theorist-fox]

The concept of Bad Man Simon Riley who's aware he's a Bad Man™️ is one I hold very dear to me.

Masterlist 🦊

Simon Riley is, fully and completely, what people envision as a bad man. He's a convoluted character who carries a lot of baggage, and that same weight has crushed him into the beast he is today.

His reflection is his constant reminder of the bad things he's done and endured. And when you have such a blatant, ever-present memento of how dark you really are, it's hard to forget.

He doesn't bother putting up a facade. Won't help the lady cross the street, nor will he take a bullet for someone else. No one has ever done that for him, so it's only natural to give the world a taste of its own medicine. He doesn't even try; it just happens.

It takes him nothing to leave Soap behind in Las Almas and find shelter in an abandoned church. Sure, he'll cover for him—if the lad is fast enough, that is. Saving Alejandro afterwards is a mere ploy to make this blasted mission end sooner—true, no one fights alone, but he'd like to get out of there as soon as possible, thank you very much.

Barely brushes the concept of Price's injury when he faints due to the inhalation of some Sarin gas of sorts. Can only think that if he'd died, he would have to take the captain's place in leading the operation. A fucking bummer alright—but cap's fine, thankfully, right? One less thing to worry about now.

Won't try to start relationships, because what good can he bring when he can't even drop a kind word for himself? He's awful, inside and out, and he's aware.

What happens, then, when he's suddenly loved?

What happens, then, when you're sliding under his skin, pretending you don't see the rot and the grime?

The question of "why" is pinned to the front of his brain like an annoying leech that plagues him day and night.

On the couch, you're absolutely unbothered by his dark presence next to you. You're just munching on popcorn and watching some film he doesn't even remember the name of.

"Y'should go," he says out of the blue.

You barely spare him a glance. "Film's not over yet."

No, that isn't what he meant, but he has an inkling that you've gathered that already.

"Ain't good for ya," he insists. "Ain't good for anyone, but that's a whole 'nother story."

You side-eye him from your end of the couch. "Self-deprecating at dinner time? Could you move it up the schedule a little, like—breakfast or somethin'."

He doesn't understand. Won't get through his skull. Share a home with him, and for what? What's he giving you that you're coveting so hard, enough to find it easy to snark back at a beast like him—poking the bear while wearing flimsy cotton shorts and a band t-shirt?

"Y'don't understand," he grits out. "I ain't a good man, love."

"Oh, I know." You say, popping a handful of popcorns in your mouth. "And?"

It irks him. Wants to bite off your head, but, surprisingly, he still has morals, and he wouldn't even dare touch you with ill intent.

"Don't act stupid, now." He warns.

"Ain't acting stupid." You reply as if there is some obvious thing he isn't getting. "You've done bad things, and bad things were done to you. That it?"

He hums as a frown paints his face.

"Should I love you less?" You go on, "Or not love you at all?"

"The latter."

"Wrong." You add as soon as he responds. "Wrong, because that's what you believe, not the truth."

He cocks a brow at your apparent arrogance. A nod in your direction, "What's the truth, then?"

You place the bucket of popcorn on the coffee table. "Truth is that you're human, Simon."

Now that's a word he wouldn't associate with himself.

Monster. Beast. Bear. Wraith, or demon. Ghost.

"As a person, good and bad can coexist—there is no such thing as night and day." You go on, seemingly unaware of the turmoil you've unleashed on his poor heart.

Keep saying the word person around him this often, and he'll start believing he is one.

So, you have seen the rotten flesh and the mud coating his insides. You have buried your hands in his viscera and coated your skin with his blood and the one he's spilled.

You know, and yet you're here. You're here because you've also seen something else, something he's not aware is there.

Same thing that made his heart lurch when Price wasn't waking up. Same thing that made him hide, prone in the bell tower of a Mexican church, making sure Soap would get back in one piece.

Same thing that has him gaze at you now, with eyes that sting with clear, fresh water. No rotting liquid, no oozing pus, or sickening blood.

You shrug, "Maybe your sun is a little eclipsed, but there's that. I can still see it, y'know?"

You outstretch your leg. Press the tips of your toes against his thigh. The world is suddenly in technicolor, and his chest warms like a rekindled flame.

You wink. "And it's bright as hell, too."