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I like to think they were friends once upon a time

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Silco and his terror of a daughter

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I am still thinking about the creators calling Silco "a dirty little thing" in the artbook

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✨👑✨ I wanted to give to this silly little guy some lore because i luv him

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when all paradise is lost go straight to…

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You should give it a read, it hurts really good :'0

"Here Comes the Sun" Here's the fic link if you want to experience some Emeritus brothers angst

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🥀

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🦇🩸🐇 to be devoured is to be truly loved. indulgence is god's greatest gift

made this for halloween! shout out dracopia... he's truly a beautiful old man that i want to eat me and stuff or whatever

closeup under the cut

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Some clean linework. Will probably colour this eventually but I wanted to show off the details XD The colour version is going to have a lot of black and other dark colours which kinda masks the base linework.

As usual close ups under the cut.

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welcome year zero.

prints + buy my tee (5% of proceeds donated to medical aid for palestinians) + commission info pinned to profile

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thinking abt rhrn copia again,,

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Thought I’d make something for my favorite lyrics from one of my favorite songs. Is everyone excited for the tour? I sure am!

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Re-paint of the David with the head of goliath (Caravaggio) ⚠️don't steal ig⚠️

Instagram: vein_noir

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Papa's Metamorphosis

An interactive Adventure (hashtag #papas metamorphosis)

Dedicated to @cowbell-ghuleh and @ryuzatodraws-archive for their bold contributions to Ghost Plush Lore

One morning, as Papa Emeritus IV wakes from anxious dreams, he discovers that in bed he had been changed into a tiny, evil little doll.

It takes him a few moments of bleariness before the full realization; at first his assessment of the ceiling’s height hinted at the possibility that he had fallen to the floor in the night. He is a rough and restless sleeper, even before all the wine last night. He had been celebrating his recent elevation to Frater Imperator with his ghouls and several eager and very flexible Siblings of Sin, and at the time he admitted he is no spring chicken. Right now he feels stiff, out of place. There’s a certain numbness in his limbs that would normally launch him into a panicked web search of symptoms. The blankets have an odd heaviness to them that he struggles with as he attempts to reach for his phone. As he frees himself from the prison of blankets, his hand passes across his face and a cold feeling of terror darts across his body.

He doesn’t have a hand. Well, whatever hand he has now is a stubby stick arm of felt devoid of any grasping mechanism. He swears out loud but his voice doesn’t fill the room the way it used to. It’s small, far away, emitted by minuscule lungs. He tests out the arm again— yes, it is his, and he can flex the end like a mitten. He had never considered mittens to be terrifying before. But there’s a first time for everything.

He sits up and realizes the giant, soft wall behind him is actually his pillow. Somehow he has shrunk down in the night and at once he starts to sweat. Through past 3 AM anxiety web searching he learned that aging came with a small amount of height loss, but not like this. Overnight he’s become smaller than a ghoul chew toy.

He sits up, patting himself. What he’s experiencing has transcended any sort of logic and so he can’t even form a proper string of panicked thoughts. His whole body is soft, ominously squishy and apparently made of cheap black and orange felt. He reaches up to touch the top of his head and someone has left a tiny Santa-like felt hat on his head, as if to mock his predicament. Elf on a shelf? More like dead on this fucking bed. “Porca troia!” Papa swears and flails his stick arms. “What a fiasco!”

He drags himself from his bed and reveals equally stubby felt legs. Papa slept mostly in the nude, but now his delightfully furry body is transmuted into itchy felt and stuffing. His socks must have come off in the night, left under the covers as this curse took its toll on him as he slept. He pats himself again as if this time he would feel actual human flesh but no. His skin is now some sort of polyester suit that suggests clothing but raises a lot of existential questions he didn’t have yesterday.

He’s going to carry on. Maybe right here, right now he’s fucked but hey— he is an optimist when push comes to shove. He runs a magical Satanic Church. Sometimes one has to take the bad with the good. The random evil curses alongside the debauchery. Papa has a lot of friends…but he can’t forget his enemies.

He starts to pace, unnerved by how his new stick legs swing out and land on the mattress. His bed is now a vast mesa of red silk that needs to be crossed. What was he doing last night? There was the party, and the Siblings, and the Ghouls…Sister’s ghost looking annoyed while Papa Nihil snored way too loudly for an incorporeal entity. There was food, lots of juice and wine and juice and wine… but what else? In the back of his mind he has a memory of this rattling, this pounding sound…from where? From who?

Papa reaches the ledge of his bed and looks down at the floor below, shaking his head. He’s looking down into a canyon floor of marble and Oriental rugs. If anyone was going to figure this out, it had to be him. This entire situation is a nightmare at worst, an embarrassment at best. He squishes his body again, and it springs back in a way that bones and muscle don’t. He jumps off the side of the bed, hedging his bets on his entire body being made of stuffing and felt. Maybe it will work. Or maybe he’ll break every bone in his body and shuffle off this mortal coil. He hopes at the very least if this is how he goes, his ghost form won’t be a cursed little doll.

Papa bounces off the floor, gasping in wild panic but unharmed. He rights himself, replacing the stupid hat on his head for some unconscious reason. Maybe to remind himself of how much of a fucking fool he feels like right now. By the door to his bedroom (which is thankfully half open due to his fear of the dark) his rats shuffle and squeak in their cage, hungry for their breakfast. But he can’t reach much, being what he is now. They’ll have to wait while he figures this out.

He needs help, and thankfully there’s a few options.

Your vote contributes to how this story goes. As for the "Other" option I have a right to pick and chose what works for me personally. This story is PG-13.

The polls are 24 hours but I may not post every day.

Please reblog for maximum impact! Let's have fun here.

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Finally done with the Papas!!!! This took me so long to finish,,,, some many guys,,,,, But hey, they're hot as shit!!!

Please, tell me who's your fave of the bunch, I'm tooootally not biased towards Popia,,,, Totally not,,,, Promise :D

Here is the time-lapse I promised, and all the individual closeups on the Papas will be under the cut!

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TOBIAS MADE IT IN THE TOP 100 DILFS OF THE YEAR OMFG

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