#(along with tobias forge)

[fuckyourtriangles]

Just finished The Red Door and totally forgot about Stay being in the credits lol

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

If Eleutherophobia!Tom had to rank the Animorphs by how much he likes them, what would be the ranking? Who would he rather be trapped in an elevator with? (I’m curious to hear more of his thoughts on Cassie and Tobias and Ax.)

Jake: The obvious winner. Tom's little brother is awesome, and he doesn't care who knows it. The kid's tough, responsible, caring, and Tom secretly hopes to be more like him when he grows up. They fight, sure, but they get along better than most siblings. There's no person alive that Tom trusts or even likes more than Jake.

Rachel: The cool younger sibling Tom never had, as he's fond of joking. Maybe they fight more than Jake and Tom, but they also spend more time fighting side-by-side than face-to-face. If the chips are down, he wants her in his corner.

Cassie: They've had some weird times, but they've also hit it off faster than Jake could have hoped. Tom is honored to call her a friend, he'd get a beer with her any day of the week, and he hopes like hell that she'll stick around and marry Jake. They shared a brain for only a few minutes, and only out of necessity, but that experience also gave them an unexplainable yet iron-forged connection.

Ax: Tom really likes the kid, who reminds him of Jake. Ax also seems to be good for Jake, and for the continued existence of planet Earth, so he's a solid dude. Tom worries about him, a teenager out alone in charge of an entire space ship; Ax would be appalled if he knew.

Tobias: To be honest, Tom finds him kinda unnerving. He's a nothlit except he's not; he's practically a cryptid; he's a bird but Tom could swear he used to be a human; he's a human but Marco keeps saying he's half-andalite; he's in some kind of situationship with Rachel. Yeerk Empire rumor has it that he has no two-hour limit. Andalite Electorate rumor has it that he was born a bird and then taught to morph human. Tom has no idea what that kid's deal is, and at this point is too afraid to ask.

Marco: Look. To give them credit, Tom and Marco try to tolerate each other. But there's no undercurrent of affection to their bickering (i.e. Marco and Rachel), just mutual dislike. Tom finds Marco irreverent and obnoxious; Marco finds Tom stiff and blockheaded. Marco has taken a media bullet for Tom, Tom has taken a military bullet for Marco, they'd both do it again with no hesitation, and if they never had to spend another minute in each other's company then they'd both die happy.

[guttersnarls]

He leads the world phenomenon that is currently number one on the Billboard charts. When another world tour was planned, he put his foot down - Ghost had to play in Linköping. " That's where all dreams were born" Tobias Forge tells Emil Oskar Andersson- Corren 2025-05-20

(Full article under the cut)

June 3, 2015, 9:55 p.m. It's a chilly early summer day in Linköping, but inside Agatanklubben Doom (Nightclub Doom) it's boiling hot. To the tune of "Monstrance Clock," the newly inaugurated Pope Papa Emeritus Ill and his entourage leave the stage. Getting a ticket was basically impossible, but the organizers manage to squeeze in a full 700 people - packed in tightly. But no one inside knows that it will be a decade before Ghost plays for the Linköping audience again. Or what will happen in between. 

A high-profile trial in Linköping District Court, where some of the band's musicians sued leader Tobias Forge, of course. But above all, Ghost has released four acclaimed albums, several new popes and cardinals have been presented, and the band has grown into an even greater worldwide phenomenon. 

At the time of writing, the new album Skeletá is at number one on the Billboard charts, the first Swedish album since 1993. And now, on May 22, Ghost is finally playing in his hometown again. When tickets went on sale, they sold out in just a few minutes. 

Ten years without a gig in Linköping - why has it taken so long?

  - The unsexy reason is that Linköping is too close to Stockholm. Ghost plays quite rarely in Sweden and if they do play a gig, it has often been Stockholm, Gothenburg or Malmö. Then there has been some pressure from above where they have said that if we play in Linköping we will cannibalize a possible second gig in Sweden. But this time I felt: "Then we'll screw up the second gig and play in Linköping instead", says Tobias Forge when we meet at the record label's office in Östermalm in Stockholm.

 You had to put your foot down and say, "Now we're doing this"?

- Yes, and when I said it, they were like: " Huh? What did you say?" but I insisted that we do it. And now that it's almost a fact, it feels really fun. I don't know if we'll ever do a gig on that scale again in Linköping.

We start talking about his childhood and upbringing. What places have shaped him and made him who he is today? 

Tobias Jens Forge was born on March 3, 1981 in Linköping. At the time, the family lived at Repslagaregatan 10A, near where Uncle Mellin's Square is today. At the time, the city's police station was located there, and Tobias remembers how, as a three-year-old, he found it exciting to watch the constables through the apartment window. When he turned four, he and his family, which mainly consisted of his mother Siv and his 13-year-old brother Sebastian, moved to Tegelbruksgatan in Tannefors, with windows facing the district's main street.

- Nya Tanneforsvägen is my ancestral home. It was the avenue that led into the city and away from it. That's where all dreams were born. Tannefors is a magical place for me. It was like living in a small town, just outside the city. And the district was interesting because it was both a villa area and an apartment building area at the same time. In terms of age, there was a mix between families with children and 20-year-olds who lived in studios. Then, in terms of socio-economics, there was the whole spectrum; those who lived down by the river and had money, the parents who lived together and had a car and so on. On the other side of Nya Tanneforsvägen there were homes with quite chaotic conditions.

- Nya Tanneforsvägen still lives in me today. In that I grew up in a kind of inner city environment, along a busy street where there were always people, life and the sound of honking. I am still completely addicted to that. I always have to be able to open the window and hear life going on outside.

You're not a country boy?

- No.

The rock dreams came early. Linköpings filmmaker Claudio Marino, who went to the same daycare center as Tobias, tells the podcast Ny Moral that he remembers little Tobias drawing the Rolling Stones tongue the first time they met. Tobias himself remembers how, as a three-four-year-old, he saw the music video for Scorpions' "Rock you like a hurricane" on TV and how it transformed his entire worldview. 

- It was drums and guitars and Scorpions in some kind of cage. The whole thing woke something up in me and when it dawned on me that you could actually make a living as a rock idol, it felt really relevant.

Tobias lived in Linköping until he was 16, when he and his mother Siv moved up to Stockholm. There, high school didn't work at all - he had

80 percent absences and he collected "about 20 IGs”. But the rock star dream was still alive, even though the music had become even harder than Scorpions. He fronted the death metal band Repugnant and played in an early version of the sleaze rock band Crashdiet. Although he himself felt then and there that his breakthrough was around the corner, it was never really close. At the same time, he lived on grants and felt rejected by the music industry in the capital. When he was 25 years old, he moved back to Linköping and a second-hand shop on Apotekaregatan. Career suicide, some might say, but Tobias had an intuitive feeling that it was the right step to take. It felt like a liberation. Once back on the plains, he played in the bands Subvision and Magna Carta Cartel. These bands included guitarists Martin Persner and Simon Söderberg, both of whom ended up playing in the new project - Ghost. 

Kent has done an audio-guided walk in Eskilstuna - what would a Tobias Forge walk look like in Linköping? 

- If I were to tell it, it would be very long... Yes, what would such a walk be like? Geographically, you could start down in Hawaii in Tannefors and then go up to my red preschool on Stationsgatan. My home is on Tegelbruksgatan 9 and then my entire elementary school education is along Nya Tanneforsvägen, the avenue of broken dreams, Tanneforsskolan and Kungsbergsskolan.T hen we continue over Drottningbron and at that time, when I grew up in Linköping, the bus station was on Magasinstorget, it was like the whole city was opened up there and it doesn't feel quite the same today. But we continue the walk up Nygatan and there I would bore everyone by telling them how many fucking record stores there were on the strip between Trädgärdstorget, via Tanneforsgatan up to Stora Torget. There were five or six record stores in between. They were all warp zones into another, more fun reality. And then we have the music stores and video stores... Yes, this walk could have been endless. 

It sounds like there are many places that have meant a lot to you in Linköping. 

- Of course. And we haven't really talked about places outside Tannefors and the inner city. Venues like Skylten and the rehearsal rooms in Bullerbyn? - When I really started playing in a band, we had a rehearsal space in Bullerbyn and l've probably been there more than I've been to Skylten actually. That place has really meant a lot to me. I was there for the first time in 1990 maybe and we recorded parts of the first Ghost album there in 2010. In between, it was as if time had stood still in Bullerbyn, I remember the corridor with posters looking exactly the same.

Videos on Ghost's social media mention "Lincopia, Otrogothia" as Ghost's headquarters. Does Ghost make more nods to Linköping? 

- Yes, absolutely. The Linköping municipal lion was embroidered in one of the popes' robes, but it has also been featured elsewhere in symbols and logos. Then I think most people have missed that we used the windows from the old bank premises on St Larsgatan, opposite S:t Larskyrkan, in our backdrop at concerts. You can see that quite clearly if you know about it. Then of course there is the Cathedral. The church on the cover of the first album is suspiciously similar to it.

Has the Cathedral been a place you have gone to? 

- I really like the Cathedral, it is a very beautiful place and, like many others in Linköping, it has had a great impact on me. Especially from an architectural and historical perspective. I have been there all my life, partly for funerals and masses and things that you have attended. As a parent of small children, I was there often because it was a lovely place to come with the children and walk around. I have many memories of being there as a child too. My mother is passionate about art and history, so l must have had some kind of Indiana Jones adventure in there. That has probably been how it has affected me the most, as a place of adventure more than spiritual. Not that I don't feel the whispers in the walls and the anxiety that probably lived between them. I find that very easy to come into contact with. No, it has above all been the adventure and the imaginativeness of the building that has affected me.

Time is running out, but I blame Tobias Forge for wanting to keep talking about his hometown - and who am I to interrupt him? Maybe that's why the gig in Linköping feels like more than just a tour stop. 

- It's going to be a day of guest lists. There are so many people I would have loved to meet - parents, siblings, old friends. But how do you politely say that... we probably won't get to see each other? Then you almost have to cancel the gig and just hang out instead. But maybe it's just me who thinks they want to see each other - maybe they just want to go to a concert, says Tobias Forge with a laugh. I walk out of the record company office and am met by a busy street in Ostermalm. So similar and yet so different from Nya Tanneforsvägen - the avenue where all dreams were born and which once led Tobias Forge away from the city, out into the world. When he now follows it back, it ends a stone's throw from Saab Arena. Maybe that's where the dream was always headed.

[jessicafangirl]

Fiddling Around

Finally the Fucking Fiddler gets some love. This became way more of a story than I started the idea with but yes, Tobias Forge's no-name Fiddler who gets the crap beat out of him now has a name. It's Gustav and you two meet after said beating. I hope you enjoy as I promised I'd do this insanity and here it is on Midsomer Weekend.

I can't believe I finally finished this. For a guy who doesn't talk a lot this is long. It's a one shot and yes I worked in a few Ghost references and one big one at the end. Don't judge me.

You can also read here at AO3

You hadn’t expected a drunken brawl on your vacation.  But the lunatics in the convertible had delivered just that. 

It had been something out of a postcard when you’d arrived in Sweden.  It was the most random decision ever actually.  You’d gotten your divorce finalized; your cock hound of a husband was now finally gone.  So to celebrate you’d thrown a dart at a map of Europe letting fate take you along.  It had landed on Sweden. 

While you had visions of Vikings in your head, you knew there was more to it than that.  You were a history buff and had read about most of the countries in Europe’s tales of the past.  Sweden was an interesting one, so you were actually excited about this.  No, you didn’t speak the language at all but…well…fate had spoken.  Plus you just wanted away from everything.

The two friends you had in the world thought you were insane for what you were doing.  You didn’t care.  In your 40s and heading to another country as a lone female, were you wanting to be killed?  You ignored them.  You wanted to do something on your own.  You wanted to prove to yourself you could.  And here you were.

The tour wasn’t cheap by any means, but you weren’t going to admit to the ones back home you did feel a little better being in a group.  You’d landed in Stockholm and gone from there.  It was beautiful and you could literally smell the history around you.

You’d packed very lightly with one duffle bag and a back pack.  You didn’t really want to buy a ton of souvenirs; you had a camera and your memory.  That’s what you’d take home….and maybe one of those cute dala horses.  And well…candy.  You were a sucker for candy from other countries candy.  And maybe one of those neat Viking necklaces, but that was it! You vowed to yourself.  Nope, nothing else. 

God, you probably should have brought another bag. 

When you had arrived in the little village right in the middle of Midsommer you were enchanted.  It looked like you’d stepped back in time with pretty young girls dancing in skirts and black-heeled shoes with flowers in their hair.  Men, young and old wearing Lederhosen as they played music.  It was surreal almost…you tried not to think of The Wicker Man or the possibility of a cult wanting to sacrifice someone for an abundant harvest.  You really needed to watch films that weren’t horror centric.  But Christopher Lee was a god damn stud…so it wasn’t going to happen.

The small tour group quicky split up and you had headed over to the shade of a tree, pulling your camera from your back pack and taking some quick shots of the locals.  You turned to the band and noticed the violin player, or more accurately the fiddle player with the blue outfit and hat, his dark hair sticking out from beneath the brim. 

He looked almost apologetic, maybe uncomfortable, like he wasn’t used to playing in public.  But he played beautifully, as did the rest of his companions.  You snapped a couple pictures of them.  As you popped the lens cap back on, you noticed the fiddler in blue glanced at you, his green eyes squinting in the sun just a bit.  You tried not to notice how nice his thighs looked in those tight blue lederhosen, or the shapely calves the tall hose showed off.  Okay, libido, I know it’s been a dry season, and you haven’t been interested since the bastard was thrown out…but you aren’t going to devour the fiddler. 

Your depraved, X-rated mind shouted something back about Swedish sausage, and you punted it away.  Besides the fact, he looked like a puppy for some reason.  It was very confusing.  You noticed one more glance in your direction, the sun glinting in the forest green of his eyes, probably thinking, look at this American loser who’s by herself.  You gave him a tiny smile and moved to wander the square. 

The air was filled with the scent of flowers and sweet berries from the stands that were scattered around the area.  Desserts, cooking food, and of course beer were all on display along with little knick-knacks.  You saw some of the other tour goers already sitting down, having slugged down two beers already and gorging on food. 

You headed over to the souvenir stands of course, because you were a sucker for that sort of thing.  Sure enough there were the little carved horses.  While you were debating a little girl, probably no more than five or six tugged on your shirt.  You glanced down and she said something in Swedish, beckoning you to lean down.  You grinned and did so.  When you were at her level she slipped a buttercup bloom behind your ear.  “Tack.” You said, one of the very few Swedish phrases you knew now.  The little girl smiled, giggled, and then ran off.

You finally chose your horse, deciding after that interaction to name it Buttercup.  You slipped the wrapped little guy into your backpack.  As you moved along you saw the little blonde haired flower girl was now dancing with the fiddler.  He was smiling actually, and you were surprised as he played a song just for the girl to twirl to as the rest of the band were taking a break.  He’d seemed so melancholy before but with his sweetly crooked teeth grin his entire demeanor had changed. 

The tune ended and you saw the little girl curtsy in thanks to her maestro who bowed in kind.  It was an adorable interaction, and you wished you’d been smart enough to take a picture, but you’d have the memory, and that’s what this vacation was all about right?  You walked over to one of the food stalls and swooned.  Everything looked delicious.  You finally settled on, of course, some meatballs in a savory gravy with some fresh baked bread and a small mug of beer.  You found an empty spot at one of the many tables and started eating.  It was fun to watch the locals and even your fellow tourists.  Blissful in a way.  You could forget about the horror show back home and just enjoy yourself.

You saw your fiddler (when had he become your fiddler?) walking over to the beer stall and getting a small mug for himself.  It was probably hot in that tight outfit…or he was hot in that outfit…wait…you thought you’d punted that voice out of your head?  You kicked it again.  Stop that.  We’re not here for that.  His licking his full lips clean of the foam from his first drink was not helping this.  Jesus Christ.  You took a healthy swallow of your own beer and focused on eating. 

Just as you had finished your food the band had started playing again.  You went back to the beer stall for one more mug, enjoying the potent brew and the fact it was ice cold.  Some of the teenagers now, all dressed in their best Midsommer get-ups, were starting to dance this time.  You leaned against one of the tables and sipped your beer, every so often glancing at the fiddle player with his dark locks, skilled fingers, and melancholy eyes. 

You watched way too many films, something your ex-husband had told you on many occasions as had your family.  Get your head into reality.  Well, reality wasn’t great most of the time as was evident when you turned on the news.  Cute little fiddler guy was suddenly your leading man in a day dream as you stood there, the scene shifting to a black and white tableau right out of Universal.

“Hans!”  (you don’t know where the name came from but hey, it was a day dream) you called him, shoulders bared from your peasant blouse, skirt pulled at by sticks and leaves as you ran to him.  Behind you the re-animated monster of Victor Frankenstein chased you, oddly the Hammer Films version which wasn’t in black and white…but it was your brain so of course it would be Christopher Lee.  “Hans he’s coming!”  You came panting up to him, breasts heaving and looking far more glamorous (and larger) than normal.

Hans, the name your slightly beer-addled brain had given him, ran to you.  “My love I will keep you safe!” his voice, which you hadn’t even heard him talk in reality yet, sounded very similar to Peter Cushing.  Well, you were a fan, and he needed to have a voice.  He pulled you into his arms and kissed you full on the mouth.  The soundtrack music your mind had chosen swelled, romantic and cinematic, “Run my darling.”  He said after pulling away.  The fact the very Swedish man had a British accent didn’t bother you…you’d seen too many ancient Rome set films where everyone talked like they had stepped off a London street.

As you watched (you in your day dream) with terrified eyes he tossed his hat aside, showing perfectly coiffed dark hair and pulling from nowhere a violin.  As soon as the monster appeared he started playing, a sad melody that could break the heart of any creature.  The monster turned its attention from you and was focused solely, almost longingly, to the music.  Hans led him away towards the ruins of a burned-out windmill.  You cried out for him to stop, knowing that the monster would realize it was a trap.  Or they both would wind up at the bottom of the pit that was the ruin. 

It was at that grandiose finale that your day dream and the music that was being played was interrupted by gravel being flung, loud rock music, and even louder voices.  You shook yourself free of your minds flight of fancy and saw the new arrivals.  You immediately knew these idiots were trouble. 

The locals quickly realized the group of newcomers were trouble too, the group immediately jumping out of their car and the men accosting…well….everyone.  One of them, a bearded guy in all white, blew a kiss at you which made you shudder.  The women were dancing with some of the older guys, who didn’t seem to mind that of course.  And the older ladies were enjoying the attention of the younger men, even when they were trying to “sexily” feed them sausages.

The one who seemed to be the leader, decked out in all denim, was talking to who you could only assume was the mayor of the town and it wasn’t going well.  You slowly started making your way back towards the tour group who were starting to huddle together but the tour guide was nowhere to be found.  Great.

You weren’t sure when it all went crazy or what set it off.  Your fiddler and the rest of the band were trying to keep playing, to keep some semblance of normalcy going you supposed.  And all of a sudden, the guy in white as well as the one you’d dubbed “denim vest” went nuts.  Their leader started a fight too, the girls still sitting and watching, laughing drunkenly as their idiot males started beating up the innocent townsfolk. 

You weren’t going to stand around and let this happen.  They’d done nothing to deserve this, and you had honestly had enough of idiot men acting like god damn menaces as these were.  Before you could do…well…whatever it was you were going to…the fiddler tried stepping in.  He was timid and you could tell he was scared simply by how big his eyes were and the shaking of his hand as he tried to grab the shoulder of the fucker in white.  But he was actually trying to stop them. 

You gasped as, for his trouble, the bigger man in white grabbed his own violin from his hand and began hitting him with it.  They fell to the ground, and he gave him a couple of punches just as a bonus.  “Fucking fiddler!!!”  The man growled, and then tucked the violin under his arm, walking away with it.

The group stalked off only moments later, heading down a path to where you knew there was supposed to be a bar.  Apparently any thought of the police coming didn’t bother them.  You didn’t even know if there were any police nearby.  The Midsommer celebration was ruined beyond repair.  You could hear a couple women crying off by the tables, but you zeroed in on your attempt at heroics fiddler who was groaning, face down on the ground. 

He was trying to push himself up when you knelt down beside him.  “Hey, here…” You said softly.  The moment your fingers brushed his arm he instinctively jerked away, a flash of wide green eyes in your direction.  “It’s okay, I’m just trying to help.”  You said, holding your hands out to show you were harmless. 

You watched and saw the recognition fill his gaze.  He relaxed a slight amount apparently realizing you weren’t going to beat the hell out of him too.  “Yeah, see, the dumb American tourist, not….disco dipshit.”  You said giving him a small smile.

The fiddler winced slightly, then gave a slight nod.  He let you slip your arm around his waist and help him stand.  You got him over to one of the wooden benches and sat him down gingerly.  You took a step back to where he’d been on the ground and snagged his hat for him, placing it next to him on the bench. 

“Okay…uh…do you speak English?”  You asked him, sitting next to him on the bench.  You weren’t a nurse, but you started looking him over as he did have injuries.  His big, glistening jade eyes looked at you and blinked.  He shook his head no.  “But you understand some?”  You asked.  At that he nodded yes.  “Alight, good.  Here, let me help, okay?”  You reached into your backpack and took out the little Sucrets box you’d converted into a traveling first aid kit and sat it next to you.  “One second.”  You said and moved over to one of the picnic tables. 

While the fiddler watched, you snagged some clean napkins, and a glass carafe of water then came back to sit next to him again.  You poured some of the water on the white napkins.  “Okay, lets get you cleaned up.”  You said. 

The fiddler sat there watching you warily as you began wiping away some of the dirt from his face.  He had some cuts on his forehead, one that was bleeding down his temple.  You swiped at it as gently as you could, but he still winced.  “Well, they did a number on you.”  You muttered.

After a few moments he must have realized you weren’t actually another threat because he visibly relaxed more.  He spoke then, words in Swedish that you didn’t understand.  It was nice to hear his real voice though, even if he didn’t sound like Peter Cushing.  Instead, his voice was on the softer and lighter side, pleasant.  The accent melodic, even if you could tell he was saying something along the lines of “Yes, the fucking dicks beat me with my own violin.”

“I have no idea exactly what you said.”  You replied, dabbing at another cut near his chin.  “But I will also say they were fucking dicks.” 

This made him actually let out a small laugh, which hurt because he’d been kicked in the side, but he apparently understood THAT perfectly well.  “Sorry…” You said with a smile.  “I won’t make you laugh anymore.” 

He replied back to you in Swedish, again you had no idea exactly what, but he returned your smile with a pained one of his own.  You dampened another fresh napkin and gestured for him to lean down.  He obediently did.  You hesitated for a second before letting your fingertips brush into his short, dark hair, moving it out of the way so you could take care of a cut that was bleeding just on the edge of his hairline. 

This close you caught the scent of his cologne mixed with the just there trace of mothballs from his jacket.  It was oddly pleasant mixed together, a hint of musk, woods, and vetiver.  You needed to stop thinking about how soft his hair was and how good he smelled.  He’d just had the crap beat out of him and you were helping him…not shoving your face into his chest so you could inhale.  God…what was wrong with you?

You cleared your throat and sat back, reaching for the tiny kit and pulling out a Q-Tip and a packet of Neosporin.  “Well I don’t know if you know what I’m saying but I think you were pretty brave.”  You took the now coated Q-Tip and started applying the ointment to the worst cut at his temple.  “I didn’t see anyone else trying to stop them…and that included me.  I’m sorry.”

The fiddler pursed his lips, glancing up at you through thick lashes, a little furrow forming between his brows.  He started talking again, his hands waving slightly as he spoke.  You sat back and watched as he went on a mini tirade apparently.  You recognized something denim vest had said, and he was mimicking him…pretty well you had to admit.  Finally he gestured at you shaking his head.  His voice lost its harshness; he glanced away from your gaze for a moment.  He spoke in Swedish again, but you caught the word angel in English. 

Whatever he said, you reached out and lightly touched his hand where it rested on the bench.  “Well, thank you for standing up to them.”  You told him. 

He glanced down at your fingers resting against his, then back up at you.  After a second, he gave a slight bow of his head, looking a little embarrassed, that shy expression you’d originally seen gracing his face.  He then tapped his chest with his other hand a couple of times.  “Gustav.”  He said. 

Your eyes widened.  “Gustav, that’s your name?”  You asked him smiling.  He nodded in reply.  You were shocked you hadn’t called him Hans while patching him up.  You moved your hand to touch your own chest and gave him your name.  He repeated it, his accent swirling around the letters and making a little spark of electricity roil along your back. 

“Well Gustav, just one more thing here…”  You said and then grabbed one of the band aids from the box.  You leaned up and applied it to the cut near his temple, brushing a bit of his dark hair over it once it was applied to keep it a little hidden.  “Okay, I think that’s all I can do that I can see here…” 

As you were finishing the gentleman you thought was the mayor came over.  He glanced at Gustav, patting him on the shoulder and saying something in Swedish that sounded apologetic.  He then turned to you.  “I am sorry Miss that you were witness to that.”

You gave him a smile, putting away your little med kit.  “I’m sorry it happened Sir, is…well…is everyone alright?”

“As well as can be expected.  Gustav here took the brunt of their punishment.”  He replied.

At this Gustav spoke quickly to the man, gesturing at you.  The man nodded.  “Ah, he says you were heaven sent and thank you.” 

You felt the blush on your cheeks, and you shook your head.  “He tried to stop them.  It was the least I could do.” 

The older man translated this though you could tell Gustav knew what you had said.  You stood up then, pulling your backpack onto your shoulders.  You had one more quest to do because you’d been stewing on it this whole time. 

The fiddler muttered something under his breath which made the older man raise a brow and shake his head.  He turned to you.  “Oh, my name is Karl Miss.”  You held out your hand in greeting and the older gent took it and placed a kiss on your knuckles as you gave him your name.  “We are getting the square in order now so our celebration will continue despite the attempt of the ruffians.  I do hope you won’t let it ruin your trip.”

“Oh, I’m not running off or anything sir.”  You told him.  “But if you have someone who can take a look at his ribs maybe…I think they may be bruised.” 

Gustav looked up and pushed himself to his feet.  He only winced a small bit as he stood.  Karl spoke to him in Swedish and he replied in kind.  Karl turned back to you.  “He says he’s fine and you don’t need to worry.” 

You raised a brow and gave Gustav a look that he would definitely understand meant “I don’t believe you but you are a guy so I can’t make you listen to anything.”  He cowed a little bit at it, ducking his head some and glancing away for a moment while trying not to look like it hurt to breathe. 

“We will have dinner for you and your fellow travelers tonight at 8pm in the hotel restaurant as planned.”  Karl said, “I do hope to see you there.” 

You nodded.  “I should be back by then.” 

Both men looked at you oddly.  Gustav getting that expression you were starting to learn was concern, confusion and annoyance combined.  He said something in Swedish directly to you that Karl translated.  “He asks…as do I…where are you going?”  The bus wasn’t going anywhere else until the next day and with the hooligans about it wasn’t safe for you to go anywhere alone. 

You gave them both a smile as you tightened the straps on your backpack.  “Oh, I’m going to get his violin back.”  You said and then turned on your heel, heading in the direction the gang of idiots had gone.

With your back turned you didn’t see the two men look at each other as though they had misheard you…or they’d finally realized you were an actual lunatic.  You heard a sudden tromping of someone running and then Gustav was standing in front of you, holding his side and blocking your way panting.  Karl appeared next to you seemingly just as winded by the surprise sprint.

The fiddler was rattling off something in Swedish again, the hand not pressed against his ribs gesturing manically, his eyes the widest you’d ever seen them and equally as manic.  You glanced over at Karl who was trying to keep up with whatever he was saying.

Karl made a gesture for Gustav to calm down and stop for a moment.  “Uh, he’s saying you are crazy if you think you are going after those uh…(it was obvious he was trying to find a word that was far more couth than what the fiddler had used) ruffians alone or at all.” 

Gustav looked at Karl and made a noise like a disgusted growl.  He obviously thought ruffians was too nice a term.  Then he looked you straight in the eye and shook his head no.  There was something sweet and also worried in his gaze.  It just made you more determined that you weren’t going to let the assholes keep his violin.  In fact they could have destroyed it by now, but you were still going to try. 

You sighed heavily.  “Sir, would you be so kind as to tell him that I appreciate the concern, but I’m not letting the…ruffians…keep his instrument.  And he’s in no condition to go retrieve it.”

Karl looked at you warily, as if knowing this was pointless and also you were truly insane.  He spoke to Gustav who rolled his eyes, let out another frustrated growl, and began gesturing again while talking quickly.  You wondered in the back of your head if he might have an Italian relation somewhere in his history.

The mayor once again told him to slow down and stop while he translated.  “He says you are not doing this.  The violin isn’t worth you getting hurt.  You’ve been more than kind.”

“Where did he get the violin from?”  You asked then, staring into Gustav’s eyes and not flinching. 

Karl was silent.  Gustav was silent.  You know he knew what you’d asked but he merely sighed deeply, glancing away first.  You turned to Karl then, having a feeling he’d know as he seemed to be close to the fiddler.  “Where did it come from?”  you asked him this time, directly.

Karl gave a nervous look to the other man.  He wasn’t a good liar, and he had a feeling you’d know if he did lie to you anyway.  “He…he got it from his grandfather.  He’d played it during the war, said it kept him sane.”  Karl’s voice was soft, apologetic. 

You looked at Gustav, your lips thinning.  “Tell him I’m getting his violin back and he needs to go get his ribs wrapped.”  You then walked around the fiddler and out the door as Karl started telling him what you’d said.  You were a couple steps away when you heard Gustav replying, your name even spoken in a hyper and stuttering cadence.  You had a feeling he’d try and follow you, so you hurried along. 

It was still light out when you came upon the bar, more like a tavern, but there was the convertible not even trying to be hidden right outside.  You slipped in, finding a jukebox in the corner of the place blasting some music, Denim Vest and one of the girls dancing in the middle of the wooden floor.  The others of the group, including Disco Nightmare, were drinking at a table.  You noticed the violin sitting next to a pile of their jackets and purses. 

You scoped out the room and headed to the bar itself, you could feel someone watching you as you did.  From the corner of your eye you noticed the one you thought of as the leader following you as you went to the barkeep and asked for a beer.  You paid the man and sipped at the drink, glancing back over at the table where the leader of the group looked at you over the glasses he wore while one of the girls chattered on.  After another minute or so you walked over.

“Hello, do you speak English?”  You asked the now surprised looking group. 

“I do.”  The leader said, he gestured at Disco Nightmare, “He knows enough to get his ass in trouble.”

The leader unnerved you a little more than the rest.  There was something both calculating and missing in his eyes as he studied you.  Where the fiddler couldn’t hide anything, he was thinking with the sort of clear, open eyes he had this guy on the other hand…they were a mystery.  Maybe what was missing was a soul.

“I’m Clark.”  He said suddenly, holding out his hand.  “What can I do for you Miss?” 

You really didn’t want to shake his hand, but you did anyway.  He held on a little too long.  You gave them your name.  “What you can do is give me a chance to win back that violin over there.”

The table went quiet; Clark was barely holding back a smile and Disco Nightmare raised a brow.  “The fucking fiddle?  You want the fucking fiddle?”  He asked you.

Clark was quiet, studying you.  “You want to…win it?”  He asked.  “Why?”

You took a breath, tamping down the fear you were feeling.  You were outnumbered by this group, and you doubted the barman would be any help.  “Because it means something to someone that you stole it from.” 

Clark pursed his lips.  “How do you want to win it modig dam?”

You reached into your backpack and pulled out your well-loved deck of cards.  “Five card draw…that is if you all know how to gamble.”

Disco Nightmare laughed, Clark looked amused but interested.  His female friend looked bored, and Denim Vest was now making out vigorously with the girl he’d been dancing with in a booth.

“Is that a yes?”  You asked, trying to keep the bravado going.

Disco Nightmare looked at his boss and his boss gestured to a chair nearby.  “Bring it over ganska spelare…let’s see what you’ve got.”

Disco Nightmare turned to you suddenly.  “What do I get if I win?”  He asked you then, leering. 

Clark leaned back in his chair as you sat down.  He looked every inch the brat prince he seemed to think he was.  You really didn’t like any of them.  “Yes, you do have to offer up something.”  Clark said with a quirk to his lips.  “And if the violin means that much…well it needs to be equally valuable.”

Disco Nightmare grinned and it spoke volumes.  “I know what I want.”  He said, his voice making you suddenly need a shower. 

You swallowed, your throat dry.  Your grandfather had been a trucker and a gambler.  A damn good gambler who had been able to retire early due to his ability.  A good thing too as he’d not lived but another 10 years after he’d retired due to cancer.   But before then, every weekend spent visiting he and your grandmother he’d taught you, his only grandchild, how to play cards.  Your parents hadn’t known just how much he’d tutored you or how good you got.  But you had cleaned out an entire frat house for every penny they had one night during a party you’d been dragged to.  You sent a little prayer up to your grandfather and Gustav’s for all the luck they could bring you.

You turned to Disco Nightmare.  “Fine…I’m pretty sure I know what you want too.”  You pulled the cards out and started shuffling.  “So shall we play?” 

Clark nodded and that seemed all that was needed.  You then started really shuffling and as you played the cards between your fingers you saw Disco Nightmare start looking worried. 

It was just you and the two men who were playing.  The bored girl had headed off to mess with the jukebox.  Your eyes though were on the cards and the men you were out to best.  It was decided that best out of five rounds would win.  You only lost one and it was to Clark.

Disco Nightmare was livid.  He stood up and started ranting in Swedish.  Clark barked out something back to him and he shut up, sitting down like a petulant little shit, which was accurate.  Clark reached over and grabbed the violin; he handed it to you with a smile.  “Well done.  If I thought you were sticking around, I might have a job for you.”

You’d quickly grabbed all your cards and placed them back in their box.  You took the violin from the man and shook your head.  “Sorry but I only use my powers for good.”  You told him and after snagging the instrument you quickly headed out the door.  You could hear Disco Nightmare say something behind you and then Clark very plainly telling him to shut the fuck up.

You waited until you were a good distance from the tavern before you leaned up against a tree and actually were breathing normally, trying to control your heart from the crazy staccato it had been trying to hammer to.  You looked down at the violin in your arms and smiled.  It really was a beautiful instrument and even if it had been used to bludgeon its owner, it hadn’t been damaged.  It was obvious too that Gustav took care of it as it was in immaculate condition. 

After taking another couple of minutes to let your heart calm down you headed back to the village.  It was just starting to get dark, and you glanced at your watch to see that it was nearing 8pm.  That meant dinner, which sounded amazing because you were starving. 

You hoped that Karl would be there so you could give him the violin to give back to Gustav but as you approached the hotel, the scent of dinner wafting through the air, you saw a figure pacing back and forth in front of the entrance.  There was a fire pit, lit and roaring as well as some string lights hanging in celebration of Midsommer.  So it was in the dim light you discovered the figure was Gustav, hatless and still in his outfit, sans his jacket.  His pale face was tense, and you caught him murmuring something to himself. 

“Hello!”  You called out and he jumped probably a foot in the air. 

He turned and when he saw you his eyes grew huge again, a trait you were finding endearing.  He quickly made his way to where you stood, rattling off something in Swedish.  Again, you caught your name in the mix.  You had held the violin behind your back, so he still hadn’t seen it when he came over.  His hands were flying as he spoke apparently not caring you had no idea what he was saying. 

“Gustav…Gustav…it’s okay.  I’m fine.”  You managed to say at last when he had to breathe. 

The fiddler let out a heavy sigh, fingers carding through his short hair.  He said something else, not quite as frantic, his head shaking slightly.  You were pretty sure he was commenting about you being suicidal. 

“Hey, you can’t stay mad at me forever.”  You said, smiling at him.  He glanced at you, lips thinning and making a short humph of noise as if to say yes, he could.

You narrowed your eyes at him.  “Well…maybe this will help.”  You pulled the violin from behind your back and held it out to him. 

Gustav’s expressive eyes nearly bulged out of his head.  He said your name, gasping it in surprise.  With shaking hands he took it from you.  He inspected it in the firelight, and you couldn’t help but smile as his fingers traced the wood reverently.  He looked back at you, and you noticed a glint of what could be a tear there just at the corner of his eye.  “How?”  He asked in English, his soft voice nearly breaking.

“Luck and the power of grandpas.”  You replied.  He looked confused for a moment.  You laughed.  “I’ve got a good poker face, that’s all you need to know.” 

The fiddler still looked a bit confused but accepted the answer.  He licked his lips, hesitated and then said, again in English.  “Thank…you…”  He looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how or what. 

“You’re welcome, Gustav.”  You replied with a curtsy. 

“Miss!  You are back!”  You heard Karl say from somewhere nearby.  He was walking out of the hotel entrance.  His eyes alighted on the instrument in Gustav’s hands, and he turned to look at you in surprise.  “You…you did it.” 

“You all are really great at instilling confidence.”  You replied with a grin.

“Oh…I…I mean…I…”  Karl was stuttering and you finally gave him an out.

“It’s okay, I’m joking.  I’m just glad I was able to pull it off.”  You glanced over at your fiddler, feeling him watching you.  “And you are quite welcome again.”   You took a deep breath, rolling your neck with a satisfying pop.  “If you’ll pardon me, I have to eat something before I faint.  Good evening.”   You lifted your hand in a small wave.

Before you could walk away Gustav grasped your hand in his.  Warm and calloused fingers lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.  “Tack min skyddsängel.”  He said, voice soft and a little hushed in the evening dark. 

If you thought his fingers were warm his lips were like an inferno.  You had to stop yourself from tittering like a teenager.  ”Du är välkommen.” You managed to reply with what tiny bit of Swedish you knew, hoping you didn’t sound as breathy as you did to your ears.  Okay you are not going to think about how the fire light played with the jade color of his eyes.  Or how he was holding your hand still. 

You needed to flee before you were an idiot in front of Karl and God and Everyone.  “Okie dokie…I’ll uhm…dinner.”  You managed to say as if that was a normal sentence and with a force of will pulled your hand from his. 

You could feel him watching you until you went through the carved wooden door of the hotel.  On the other side of the door you let out a breath you didn’t know you were even holding.  The scent of stew and bread and the yeasty fragrance of beer filled your lungs. 

The night had gotten a little bit chilly, so the fireplace was roaring in the dimness of the dining hall, flickering in the shiny reflection of the wooden beams that crisscrossed the ceiling.  You went over to the serving area and got a tray which was quickly filled with a bowl of the delicious smelling stew, a hunk of still steaming bread, and a tankard of beer. 

When you sat down at a lone table near the fire you suddenly felt how weary you were and the anxiety that you’d been fighting without realizing it leave your shoulders.  My god, you’d really just faced down a group of hoodlums for a violin.  You wouldn’t be sharing that story with your friends back home…they’d lock you up.

Outside, just as the door shut to the hotel behind you, Karl looked over at Gustav who was still standing there as if glued to his spot.  The older man shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips.  “I know that look.”  He said in Swedish to the younger man.

Gustav glanced at the head of the village, hoping he was keeping a neutral expression on his pale face…and failing.  “What look?”  He replied, voice only a little shaky. 

Karl laughed, placing a hand on the fiddlers shoulder.  “The one you’ve got right now.  The one that doesn’t know if you should be afraid or running after her to have your babies.” 

The fiddler shook his head.  “No…no…I’m not…no…”  He stammered, trying to form a response…and failing.

Karl patted his shoulder in understanding.  “That American just did something stupidly dangerous for you and she just met you.  I know how much you love that violin.  I know what it means to you.  She knew in just a few moments time…and her heart told her to get it back for you.”  The mayor gave him a sad smile.  “I know what you are thinking about Gustav, but not everyone will hurt you like she did.  You can’t hide away forever.”  He slapped him on the back then.  “If you don’t go in there and at least try to woo her, you’re a fool.”

The fiddler sighed…glancing up at the slowly star filling dark sky.  “I’m…I’ve…I’ve got nothing to offer her.  Why would she…”  He said, defeat already coloring his words.

Karl shook his head.  “What made her do what she did, that’s what you should be thinking on.  Don’t dwell on doubt.  Offer her music, she brought that back to you.” 

Gustav glanced at the precious violin he was holding.  The only reason he had it was the woman who had waltzed in when he’d needed saving, he realized in more ways than just one.  He nodded.  “Thank you, Karl.”

“Don’t thank me, just go.”  The older man laughed and with one last pat to his shoulder, left to eat dinner at his own home.

You were done eating and about half way through the surprisingly large tankard of beer when the door of the hotel opened.  You glanced over and froze as you saw Gustav walk in, holding his violin case, still sans his hat and jacket.  He greeted a few of the locals but his eyes kept looking your way.  You took a nervous sip of beer as he finally made his way to you. 

“Hello.”  You said as he stopped to stand in front of the fireplace. 

He nodded in reply, realizing this would be a bit harder without Karl around to help do some translating.  But he hoped the music would speak enough for him.  He held up the violin case then pointed at you, then mimicked playing. 

It took you a second.  “You…you want to play something?”  You asked. 

He nodded, smiling.  He hesitated, looking thoughtful, then said “You…choose.”  In that soft voice that seemed so unused to speaking.

You grinned back at him.  “Someone knows more English than they let on.”  You replied.  He looked bashful for a moment, his apple cheeks blushing in the firelight.  He flipped his hand back and forth to say a little bit.

Okay, he was officially adorable, and you were in danger.  But you couldn’t help it, he was sweet, cute, and sort of hopeless in a way puppies were.  Oh god…you were thinking of him as a puppy now?  He was a grown man…with really nice thighs in those leggings.  Nooooo…oh fuck you were in trouble.

Well, it was too late now, and he was waiting.  You supposed you’d stay on brand as it were as the first composition that you thought of that would be perfect for a violin entered your head thanks to Bela Lugosi’s Dracula.  “Okay, how about Swan Lake?” 

Gustav nodded, his brows raised a bit in surprise at the choice.  Maybe he didn’t think you’d know any classical music.  Ha, I showed you…Americans have some class.  And we watch old vampire movies.  Don’t judge me.  You only thought all of this as he placed his case on the table and pulled his violin from it and the bow. 

The others in the dining room noticed he was getting ready to play and so a few heads turned as he placed his chin against the instrument and started.  He closed his eyes as the beautiful melody rose from the strings and became airborne.  As you watched you saw his entire demeanor change with the music. 

He wasn’t stiff, he wasn’t hunching in upon himself as if trying to hide.  He was standing straight, his fingers moving effortlessly over the strings and drawing the bow back and forth.  He swayed along with the notes, his brows narrowing as the intensity of the music increased.  It was beautiful, enchanting, and when you were able to look away you saw that a few of the couples, some on the tour and some of the locals, had started waltzing.

This was why you knew you had to get the violin back.  If you weren’t sure what had inspired you before, it was this.  It was almost magical, like a spell.  This was how a Pied Piper could steal all the children from a village or lead rats away.  And he played the violin as if it was a part of him because it was.  You felt something damp on your cheek and turned back to Gustav just as the final note was played.  The sound of applause from many in the hall sounded and seemed to surprise the fiddler as if he realized there was an audience.

He looked over at you just as you joined in with the clapping, taking a moment to swipe away at the tear on your cheek.  He actually blushed at the praise of everyone and turned to give a bow to them and then to you.  “That was…absolutely beautiful.”  You said, hoping he hadn’t noticed you crying like a 5-year-old to the pretty music. 

No, you could tell by the way he quirked his head he’d noticed.  He sat down in a nearby chair, placing the violin back in its case then turned to you, gesturing at you and saying something in Swedish, the tone concerned.

“Oh, no…I’m okay.  It was just…”  You paused and let out a sigh.  “It was just really lovely.” 

One of the servers came over, bouncing in her peasant blouse to the point you knew she wasn’t wearing a bra.  It was even more evident when she leaned down and placed a fresh mug of beer in front of Gustav, taking more than a little time to do so.  Her dark hair fell over her pale shoulders in a perfect wave, and you tried to look away as she spoke to him.  Well…yeah musicians and girls…that’s a whole thing.

Since you weren’t looking though you didn’t notice how the fiddler was literally doing his best to not look down her blouse and ignore the way her fingers were “accidentally” brushing his bicep.  He’d noticed you looking away though, as if you were intruding on something and you most assuredly weren’t.  Maybe he was cursed…but no…something had brought you here on a day he very much needed it.  He glanced up and said to the barmaid “How’s your husband?” 

Her attitude changed immediately, so much so that you turned to see her give the fiddler a look that would freeze hell over.  You had no idea what he’d said but she responded in a very clipped tone and then flounced off to another table.  Gustav noticed the confused look on your face.  He gave you a smile, then lifted his beer.  “Skål.” 

Okay that you knew what it meant, and you clinked your mug to his own.  “Skål.”  You said grinning in reply.  Over the next two hours you sat and drank trying as well as you could to chat.  It was mostly you though talking but Gustav tried, even learning a few new words.  You found out he was actually a bit of a movie buff himself, heading to the closest larger village that had a theater every weekend.  His latest favorite was The Empire Strikes Back, though he was annoyed at having to wait for the third entry.  You both also loved Jaws, and you cracked up at his impression of Quint’s bow-legged women line.  Of course he’d know that in English. 

In between chatting a few of the other guests would come over and ask if he’d play for them.  And while he would look to you for approval, you always gave it.  You loved hearing him play.  Over the course of the evening there were a few more waltzes and one Irish gig that surprised you.

At some point you realized it was late, nearly midnight late.  It had been a long day, and it hit you like a ton of bricks as you yawned, gazing into the fire while Gustav played one last waltz for an older couple who apparently had more energy than you did.  You’d also drank at least three of these beer tankards and you were more than a little drunk…which in your mind, fuck it you had earned it.  But it wasn’t making you any less sleepy. 

As the last note rang out from Gustav’s violin the couple thanked him profusely then, surprisingly they did you as well.  They were Swedish, living only a couple of villages away apparently.  You knew this because they were more bilingual than your fiddler.  There was a mish mash of Swedish and English and you realized they thought you were a couple.  In fact, both of you realized it at the same time as the silver-haired lady with big brown eyes asked, “How long have you been together älsklingar?” 

Your eyes widened and you looked over at Gustav who sat talking to the ladies husband, every so often glancing your way.  He saw the expression on your face and paused.  “Är du okej?”  His gentle voice asked you. 

You let out a little cough to clear your throat.  “Yes, yes I’m fine.”  You turned to the lady with a small smile.  “Oh, we aren’t…we’re not…”  You sounded like a stuttering moron.  “We just met today.”  You said, managing to make a complete sentence.  Out of the corner of your eye you saw the fiddler watching the interaction, seemingly realizing what you were talking about. 

He had an odd look on his face.  What you didn’t know was he was weighing his chances based on that response.  You didn’t sound horrified by the mistake at least…and that was a good sign. 

The lovely older woman smiled and nodded.  “Ah, well…” She turned to her husband with a fondness and twinkle in her eyes that spoke of a love that hadn’t ever lessened, it had probably only grown stronger.  “Rupert and I, we met 50 years ago tomorrow.  We were married within a month.”  She turned back to you and patted your hand.  “You still have time.”  She said with a wink. 

You probably looked like a deer facing an oncoming train at that point, but you hoped you hid it well.  “Oh…hehe…uhm…thank you?”  You managed to strangle out of your throat, glancing over her head at Gustav who looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh but also had cheeks the color of cherry blossoms.  He met your eye for all of two seconds before looking away.

“Greta, we need to go my pet.”  Rupert said, his full head of gray hair enviable in its thickness.  He had a look that reminded you a bit of Gregory Peck as well as the height.  He stood and offered his hand to his wife.  “It has been a wonderful evening, but we do need to sleep at some point, as I’m sure you both do.”  He gave a slight bow to both you and Gustav. 

As Greta took his hand you stood to wish them both a goodbye, joined by the fiddler who wished them a good evening in their native tongue. 

“Lycka till alsklingar.”  Greta said, giving you another wink and a quick kiss to the cheek.  She grabbed hold of Gustav’s arm and pulled him down to kiss his as well.  “Tack igen.”  She slipped her thin arm through that of her husbands and the two walked out of the hotel, Greta’s soft laughter following as Rupert’s deep baritone began singing “Strangers in the Night” to her.

That left you and your fiddler in the now fairly dark dining room, the fireplace and a few well-placed table lamps, the only illumination.  Even the bartender had left, along with the lusty barmaid who had to have begrudgingly return home to her husband. 

You’d not really been thinking about the fact that tomorrow you’d be leaving with the tour to another area of the country.  And that meant no more fiddler, which you realized was the reason you didn’t want to think about it.  You’d known him less than a day, but translation issues aside, you really liked chatting with him.  He was funny, talented, cute, looked really good in those tight lederhosen….and oh my god what are you doing?  Stop it.

Besides the fact you were leaving the village tomorrow, you were going back home to another continent in a few days.  And besides that…what was the appeal for this guy to you?  The divorced middle-aged American who was obviously alone?  Yeah you were a jackpot.  Did you really think he’d invite you back to his charming cottage where he lived in a picturesque woods with probably a half dozen Snow White clones who pined for him and his violin’s song while Bambi and every other Disney talking animal hung around?

Okay, maybe you were really tired, and you were hitting that spiral again…the one you promised yourself you were escaping with this trip.  With a heavy sigh you turned to find Gustav standing next to you, dark hair slightly mussed with a few strands falling over his forehead.  The firelight caught in his big, forest-colored eyes causing them to glow a bit as he turned to you as well. 

He had to be over 30, right?  But he had one of those faces that could be anywhere from 20 up.  This close you could see a line or two, laugh lines on either side of his full mouth, little eye lines from when he’d smile, something you’d only seen a couple of times but when he had during the evening you’d tried to ignore the little flutter in your chest.  God damn it, you weren’t supposed to crush on the guy…could you not? 

And then he was doing that half smile to you, as if waiting for you to say something.  You needed to escape; you couldn’t do this.  You’d make an idiot of yourself.  Just…just go to bed and be sad for a while.  What was one more thing to be sad about?  Right?  You could handle one more thing.

“Uhm…well…I guess this is it Gustav.”  You said softly, your own now melancholy smile touching your lips.  You held out your hand to shake his.  “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

He glanced down at your hand, lips pursing just a bit, a little furrow forming between his eyebrows.  The fiddlers eyes tensed around the corners, but he reached out and took your offered hand gently in his own.  Gustav hadn’t been thinking that far ahead.  He’d simply been enjoying the attentions of the lovely stranger who’d risked her safety and…while he didn’t want to imagine it…her life to get him his grandfather’s violin back.  And the fearless woman had done just that.  Over the course of the evening you’d managed to enchant him even further while talking about Jedi warriors, music, and he’d not wanted to think about how you’d be leaving in the morning. 

Karl knew of his pain, a relationship that had wounded him deeply.  He’d not been enough for her apparently, not enough but the apprentice to the plumber apparently was.  He’d had to deal with enough “laying pipe” jokes after it became part of the local gossip to last a lifetime thrice over.  He’d had no idea, been blind apparently, love makes you that way as the songs all said and they were right. 

And here you appeared…right when he thought his life was at the bottom of the barrel.  He’d already had a bruised heart but thanks to the bastards who’d beaten him he had bruised ribs and the embarrassment that came with the fiasco.  The final straw had been the loss of his violin.  It was like the universe wanted to take everything from him at that moment…a moment he’d tried to at least fight back against something and wound up on the ground face first in the dirt. 

But there you were.  As he shook your hand, felt your warm soft fingers against his he remembered the gentle touch of them against his shoulder.  He’d jerked away, instinctively thinking they were back to finish the job, and then he’d heard your voice.  It was warm too, and jarringly American.  But the accent was almost like honey to his ears.  He’d watched enough films from the States, he guessed you were from the middle part somewhere.  And while he could do a decent job figuring out what you were saying, he hadn’t taught himself enough on how to speak the words back to you.  At least very many of them.

But in the hours since the two of you had bumbled your way through.  He’d watched the expressions cross your face, the way you’d roll your eyes at something silly, chewed on your lip when you were thinking, pulling the fullness of your lower lip between your teeth and driving him a little mad with the sight.  The way you laughed without hesitation, a real laugh that made the light sparkle in your eyes. 

You spoke fast sometimes, as though thinking you were going to be interrupted or hadn’t really been able to get a full sentence out often.  He wasn’t sure, but other times you would get so quiet, and he could tell you were caught somewhere else, somewhere far from him and the room you sat in.  He knew the look; he did it often enough these days.  Wondering and wandering in the past, the tightness of your jaw, the far away look.  You could get trapped there, the good and bad memories of the past, he knew that from experience too. 

But Gustav didn’t want to lose any of the precious time he would have with you.  So he’d bring you back to the present, with a word, usually in Swedish or a gesture…once during the evening he’d dared touch your shoulder. 

And now he supposed this was goodbye.  The distant chiming of a clock told him it was midnight.  Cinderella leaving the ball…He’d not find you again, would he?  He wasn’t a prince by any stretch of the imagination.  But you, you could definitely be a princess.  Or a Valkyrie sent by his ancestors who were tired of seeing him be a loser, to save his sorry ass from another embarrassment.  Couldn’t he have just a few more minutes to memorize your face before you left him as quickly as you’d appeared? 

Gustav gently squeezed your fingers, a light and friendly handshake as his brain tried valiantly to figure out a way to delay the inevitable.  There were no options sadly, but he could still be a gentleman, even if he was a heartsick one right then.  “Får jag följa dig till ditt rum?” He asked, wincing as he realized you probably had no idea what he was saying.

The adorable way you raised your eyebrow questioningly answered him.  You had no idea what he’d said.  He released your hand and made a walking gesture with his fingers and then pointed up the stairs. 

It took you a moment but then you smiled.  “Oh, you want to walk me to my room?” 

He nodded, recognizing the phrasing enough, and giving you a small grin. 

“That’s very sweet.”  You told him, happy to get another minute or two just to remember. 

Gustav went to pick up his bag, placing his violin case inside and pulling the strap over his shoulder.  When he appeared back at your side you started up the flight of narrow wooden stairs to the area for the rooms. 

The two of you were quiet, knowing that every normal person would be asleep by now.  Your room was at the very end of the left-hand hallway.  The lights had been dimmed to nearly nothing due to the hour.  The scent of furniture polish and woodsmoke from the fireplace made the air thicker.

When you came to your door you paused.  This really was it, you thought.  How had not even a full 24 hours become so important to you?  You turned then, finding the fiddler standing  close.  He was so close, even in the darkened hallway you could make out the varying shades of green in his long-lashed eyes.  Light and dark green mixed together like a forests worth of leaves.  He wasn’t much taller than you, so his face was level with yours.  And as you watched you saw a flicker of something cross his expression.  If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was sadness. 

You took a deep breath, catching the scent of his cologne again, like a ghost on the breeze.  “Well, again, thank you Gustav.  Even with…well…everything…this was a lovely evening.”  You kept your voice level, quiet.  You actually whispered the words more than said them aloud. 

The fiddler gave a small smile, nodding slightly, eyes dropping for a moment to the wooden floor.  He seemed to hesitate, thinking.  Finally he looked up and softly said, the words careful as he concentrated.  “Thank you…angel…for…saving…me.”  His voice was also whispered, the slight accent sweet in the narrow space. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes widened at that.  It made a little pain in your heart to here it, a welcome little pain that you’d not forget.  No one had ever called you an angel before or accused you of saving them.  You couldn’t help it then, blame your Midwest background, but you didn’t hesitate.  You moved quickly and wrapped your arms around his waist and gave him a hug, careful to not squeeze too hard due to his ribs. 

Your nose landed somewhere near his shoulder and neck and there the scent of his cologne was even stronger.  A greedy part of your brain had you inhale a deeper breath just so you could remember it.  You felt him stiffen for a moment, probably in surprise…or maybe horror that the American was this affectionate.  You had no idea if Sweden was a hugging place or not.

Well, that question was answered a moment later.  Gustav, shaking himself from the stupor of suddenly being in your arms and having even a little of your body pressing against his, slipped his arms around you and held tight.  He closed his eyes, memorizing just how truly soft and perfect you felt.  No hard edges, just softness, but not a weak embrace, no…this was real…this was perfect.  He rested his cheek against yours, the flush of your skin warming his own. 

“You’re welcome, Gustav.”  You said, breath tickling against his neck. 

His arms tightened a little at the sensation.  Oh, he was dangerously close to doing something foolish.  He knew it, he could sense it coming.  But he was a little drunk in a dark hallway with a beautiful woman in his arms.  He was, he realized, so very screwed.

Because you didn’t want to make it anymore weird you pulled away first after a few seconds.  He may have been uncomfortable, you knew some people weren’t like you, a hugger type.  It just was how you were and well…maybe you were a little touch starved after everything that had happened over the last year.  As you stepped away you saw his cheeks were once again that blushing pink that was so adorable, the flush going all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

“Sorry…I…well…I hug I guess.”  You sounded so stupid you mentally kicked yourself in the face.  Okay, you may have had three massive gallons of beer…or whatever those tankards were…but…god pull it together.  You turned then and unlocked your door, turning back around and finding him looking more than a little nervous.  “Well, um…good night?”  You said, sort of at a loss for what else to say.  You’d oddly been through a lot together in the last day. 

Gustav nodded slightly.  Yes, he should say good bye, a final…forever one.  Right?  That’s what he should be doing.  His angel was going to start to wonder if he was crazy, having some sort of brain damage from getting hit in the head by a wooden instrument.  Maybe he did have some sort of head injury because he was still just standing there, looking into your lovely, and slightly confused face.  Okay, he could do this.  He could leave your side…he could say goodbye.  “Ja, god natt.”  He finally pushed the words out of his throat.  And then because he knew he’d regret not at least doing this once, leaned closer and placed a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

He lingered there for just a second, momentarily possessed by how your skin felt beneath his lips.  Silky, soft as he knew it would be.  He pulled away and as he did your eyes caught his.  He paused, hovering close as if trapped in the way your gaze held him. 

Where he’d kissed your cheek felt like a current had been sent through your entire body.  Maybe you were touch starved, lonely, or maybe it was something else…something you weren’t ready to realize yet.  But as you both stood there you made a decision that was probably a bad one and well…you could always blame the beer later. 

“Oh…fuck it.”  You said aloud and you found a use for the red suspenders that he was wearing as you snagged them in your hands and pulled him back to you, your mouth slamming into his. 

The fiddler, to his credit, only made a small squeak of surprise as your warm lips plied against his.  Once his inebriated brain realized what was happening, he quickly had his arms around your waist and was kissing you back with equal or more fervor.  Oh…the foolishness was shared apparently.  He wasn’t the only one lost to this madness.  You were there with him and…it was joyous.

The kiss deepened and he could taste the sweetness of the berries you had eaten for dessert on your tongue with just a little bitterness from the beer.  It was a heady mix, and he wanted more of it.  The fingers of his right hand slipped into your hair, tilting your head back to allow him better access to your mouth, tilting your face up and back.  “Så söt.”  he sighed the words against your lips, “Som godis.”

You didn’t know what he was saying again, but if he sounded like that, he could be reciting the instructions for building a shelf for all you cared.  He just needed to keep talking.  Oh wait…you were in a hallway.  You pulled away reluctantly from his mouth and he tried to follow you, pouting as you refused him.  “We need to…not be in the middle of a hall.”  You managed to say, forehead leaning against his, trying to catch your breath.

Gustav realized you were right.  It would be a scandal, wouldn’t it?  Part of him didn’t care honestly.  He’d already been through a scandal…this he’d actually be proud of.  But he knew you were right and probably didn’t want to find yourself in the middle of one.  So he nodded, finding it hard to speak right then and finding the lederhosen was growing…uncomfortable. 

You grinned at him then.  Oh this was insane, but you didn’t care at the moment.  Instead you took hold of his suspenders again and pulled him back into your hotel room.  It was dark in there, with only the moonlight coming through the window providing the illumination.  Gustav actually shut the door with a well-placed kick.  And then it was a matter of fingers and hands and clothes being tossed away. 

He only took a moment to put his bag on the nearby desk as you dropped your backpack to the floor.  Then you were pushing his suspenders down while he kissed you senseless.  The costume was adorable but annoyingly had more buttons than you could count.  His mouth was moving down your jaw as you were trying to fight the little cloth covered bastards.  “Why…does…this have…so many buttons?”  You half laughed as his teeth scrapped your throat. 

For his part, Gustav had your t-shirt untucked from your jeans and was letting his finger tips glide over your back.  He couldn’t help but grin against your pulse at what you’d said.  “Stil framför substans.”  he muttered, then nipped at the skin. 

You gasped at the feeling of those adorably crooked teeth trying to devour your neck and how his voice had gone down an octave in the span of seconds.  With new determination you attacked the shirts buttons.  “Keep…talking.”  You ordered him.

Gustav heard the command as though from far away, all of his concentration on making sure he kissed every inch of you before this night was over with because it may be the only night he had to do so.  “Vad...vad...vill du att jag ska säga?” 

You somehow knew what he’d said.  “I don’t care…just…talk.”  You let out a small cheer as you had his vest and white shirt undone.  “There you are.”  She said and shoved them off his shoulders.  In the moonlight you could see he was pale, which wasn’t a surprise.  What was surprising was he was built like a swimmer or a dancer maybe.  He had muscle there, compact and lean with just a slight softness to his stomach.  You were overcome with the need to bite it.  You added that to your list of things you were going to do tonight. 

He was blushing.  It had been a while since he’d been in a situation like this and you were looking at him in a way that was really making the pants more uncomfortable.  “Det är bara rättvist.”  He said, giving a nervous smile and tugging at your shirt. 

You were nervous too because…well…it had been a while.  But you assumed he’d said fair was fair.  So you pulled the shirt over your head leaving you in only the lacy blue bra to cover you.  Judging by the way his pupils blew up even more than they had been your fiddler must have approved of the view.  “Angel…”  He said, and it almost could have been a prayer.

It seemed an unspoken agreement between you happened then and it was a frantic chase to see who could get the other naked first.  You both wound up tumbling onto the bed, giggling like teenagers and then hushing each other so as not to wake up the neighbors. 

Gustav thought he was going to die if he didn’t get freed from the confines of his pants.  He couldn’t remember when he’d been this hard and my god…you were everything he could have dreamed of.  Finally with a shout of glee you tossed them aside and he was working on your jeans with as much frantic energy. 

In between wet and messy kisses to your neck, down to your breasts Gustav worked the hooks of your bra with the skilled fingers of a musician.  He had it tossed off next and could almost hear the harps of heaven as he saw your tits for the first time.  He was only a simple man…and quickly went to work suckling one and palming another. 

You moaned from behind clenched teeth, not wanting to have everyone around you knowing what was going on behind your closed door.  But he was lapping at your nipple between suckling nips at the pink bud like an artist, his mouth so warm it was driving you crazy.  Finally you couldn’t take it, pulling him back to your lips and kissing him again, tongues swiping at each other while his skillful hands slipped down your hips. 

“Jag vill röra vid er alla.”  His voice was nearly breathless as he trailed kisses down your chin, along your neck.  “Snälla låt mig röra dig.”  He begged. 

“Please…” You gasped as his fingers moved between the waist band of your underwear, quickly finding your core.  You let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl as he slipped his fingers into your wet heat.  You heard him groan against your throat as he felt you for the first time.  You gasped his name as he slipped a second finger in, moving slow and deep, curving them every so often. 

“Så hårt min ängel.”  He leaned up on one arm watching your face as he stroked you.  Oh you were so wonderfully tight, so deliciously wet.  You were an angel…there was no other explanation for how lucky he was just then.  Your lashes fell against your cheeks so prettily as your lips parted, his name on them again and again.  He could die tomorrow, and he’d be content with this vision forever in his mind. 

The pleasure hit you in the next moment, unexpected and glorious.  You shuddered under him as the orgasm sent waves of tingling heat through you.  Your fingers gripped his bicep, your other hand fisting the blanket.  As the aftershocks rocked you, you pulled him back down into a bruising kiss, flipping him over onto his back with a surprised yelp.  It was time for payback.

You dragged your mouth down from his, biting his long throat as you made a trail down to his pale chest.  You heard his gasp as you find a pectoral and let your teeth graze the skin, down to his own nipple which you licked while looking up at him.  His face was scrunched in pleasure, eyes nearly closed, and lips parted as he tried to keep breathing.  Maybe you hadn’t lost your touch after all.

You let the tip of your tongue trail down his chest until you came to the slight swell of his stomach.  Your teeth nipped at the skin there, leaving a ring of little red bites like mementos on his pale flesh, your fingers caressing his sides and then moving to the front of his boxers.  He was squirming beneath you now, fingers curling into your hair, not pulling you away but just holding on.  His breathing was heavy; little moans every so often tickling your ear. 

The bulge in his boxers was impressive.  You were a little intimidated…it had been a while.  You palmed at the tented fabric, letting your fingers caress the length of him hidden behind the white cotton.  “Do you like that Gustav?”  You asked him, placing a kiss against the top of his stomach while you stroked him through his boxers.

The fiddler didn’t know if he could even form words or coherent thoughts at that point.  He could only moan out a strangled noise that sounded like a yes.  He thought he might actually die now.  And again, he’d be okay with that.  He honestly couldn’t think of a better way to go than this.  But he wanted…he wanted you and if you kept doing what you were doing…he’d not make it.  “Jag kommer inte att klara min ängel. Snälla...”  he begged. 

Even if you didn’t know exactly what he was saying you could guess.  You moved back up to kiss him again, his lips just as perfect as you had suspected.  His arms quickly wrapped around you, holding you tightly, any pain from his ribs forgotten in the haze of this moment.  The two of you struggled with the final bits of fabric keeping you from each other. 

Gustav gazed into your eyes one more time, as if asking you again if this was okay, were you sure.  Your answer was to pull him back to your lips, kissing him, so much better than just mere words. 

He tried to be gentle, and he was, but it only took a moment and then two before you were pulling him closer, bringing him deeper.  He positioned your leg over his hip and thrust himself fully home, bottoming out with a strangled gasp.  “Min ängel. Min himmel.”  He whispered into the darkness, pulling back nearly all the way and slamming his hips into yours again. 

Your fingernails left trails on his back as he took you.  It was all you could do to hold on as he buried his face in your neck and his cock inside you.  His fingers gripped your hip in place as he fucked you into the mattress, leaving bruises as mementos as you’d done with your teeth to him.  And as you felt yourself reaching that peak again, he kissed you once more, savoring this insanity for the weird magic it was. 

The orgasm didn’t sneak up on you like the first one, you’d felt this one building like a slow buzzing fire.  When it finally rolled over you Gustav had to muffle your cry with his mouth, his release only a moment later.  The sound of your pleasure joined his, echoing in your throats.

Gustav took a few moments, letting the two of you calm and settle yourselves, the dark room filled with only the sounds of your heavy breaths now.  He rolled onto his side then, not wanting to let you go, one leg between yours to keep you as close as he could.  You’d kick him out soon, he knew this, and he wanted every second to count. 

You could still feel him, softening inside you but still joined.  And you weren’t finding a desire to let go soon either.  “Well…” you let out a gentle laugh, finger tips trailing along his collarbone.  “I guess you played me like a fiddle, huh?”

Gustav knew what you’d said.  He looked down, catching your glossy eyes staring up at him, smile a light in the darkness.  He thinned his lips and made an annoyed “mmmph.” before leaning down and kissing your nose. 

The way you were staring up at him made a fluttering spread throughout his chest.  Even more powerful than what you’d both just shared and that…that scared him a little.  “Jag skulle göra musik med dig för alltid.”  He admitted, the words fragile in the dark, knowing you may not understand, but wanting to say it aloud. 

He was supposed to let you go now; watch you leave…what was another shattering of his heart?  Gustav sighed heavily, slipping from your warmth but still unable to let you go as he kept his arms around you.  He settled on his back eyes gazing into the beams of the ceiling, some carved with little forest creatures in the wood.  He saw the vague outline of a fox looking at you both, probably judging you and finding him lacking.  “You foolish man, why taste paradise when you know it will disappear with the sun?”  he could hear it say.

He was surprised though when he felt your cheek come to rest in the crook of his arm, lips pressing a gentle kiss against his chest.  It felt like you were burrowing up against him and settling in for the night.  Gustav almost winced as your arm rested over his stomach, fingers lightly stroking his bruised side.  But it wasn’t out of pain, at least not from the beating.  No, this was the hurt of knowing how temporary this was.  As if in rebellion to the reality he tightened his hold on you, pressing a kiss against your hair. 

“You’re very comfy.”  You said sleepily.  Oh yeah you were tired even before all of that.  Now you were a combination of drunk drunk and sex drunk and oh he was comfy.  He wasn’t a big guy, maybe you could fit him in your bag too.  If it was a choice between the horse figure and Gustav, Gustav wins. 

You refused to listen to the voice telling you this was over in the morning.  He’d be going back home…he might even leave before then…and you had a tour to finish and then it would be back home for you too.  You knew when you made the decision it was one night…right?  But he was still holding you and you were not going to make it easy for him to go.  In fact you’d slid one leg over that shaped thigh of his so it would be even more tricky for him to get up.

But Gustav was not in a rush at all.  In fact, he suddenly had an idea.  It was a bad idea, like most of his turned out to be, but one that grabbed him, nonetheless.  Before he could stop himself, he whispered into your hair “Stanna här med mig.” 

You let out a little gasp of surprise.  “What?”

Well it was too late to take it back and he didn’t want to.  “Stanna här med mig.”  He said it again, voice a little stronger, biting back the fear of rejection.  He met your gaze with a nervous smile, fingers tracing your still flushed cheek. 

You knew enough to translate what he’d said.  The expression in his face as he met your eyes was a mix of fear and anticipation.  You’d never seen a man with literally no shield for his emotions.  Your fiddler couldn’t lie if he wanted to.  “Gustav, I…I have to go back home in a few days.  The tour…” You tried to explain as you felt his fingers curl around your own, bringing your hand to his lips for a kiss. 

He knew this of course…but he wasn’t ready for you to leave him forever.  He needed to know if this was more, was as much as he hoped it could be.  He had a plan.  It was probably a horrible plan which is what most of his wound up being, but he had to try.  It took him about five minutes of gestures and a mix of Swedish and very poor English, but he eventually explained himself. 

“So you want me to ditch the tour and stay here while you take me around in your cousins car to show me the sights?”  You repeated what he’d managed to convey.  You could hear your friends screaming at you from the States, he was a psychopath. 

Gustav nodded, praying to whichever god was listening you didn’t think he was a lunatic.

“Then you’ll take me to Stockholm so I can catch my flight back home?”  You asked him.

He nodded again.  He wouldn’t be thrilled with that part of the plan but…well…he’d figure out the rest later.  You weren’t telling him to fuck off so that was a good sign.

You were chewing your lip again and his eyes were drawn to the way the pink color reddened at the mercy of your teeth.  He sent another prayer up. 

“This is crazy…you know that too, right?”  You replied, your fingers resting against his chest, tracing little patterns over his heart. 

Oh he knew it was crazy.  He knew it and he was embracing it for all it was worth. 

You finally decided, as you had earlier that night…fuck it.  “Okay, let’s be crazy.”  You said at last, leaning up and kissing him quickly. 

“Ja?”  He asked, a dazed grin crossing his face. 

“Ja.”  You replied and kissed him again.  He was very kissable and that was becoming a problem too.  “But first, I need to sleep…so…”  You pushed him back onto the mattress and burrowed your face into his chest.  “Your job is now pillow.”  You muttered against him. 

Gustav grinned back up at the fox, wanting to flip his judgy face off but instead accepting his fate to be your pillow for the evening. 

The next morning you both slept in.  You were lucky as you had just enough time to find the tour guide and tell him you had a change of plans.  You even got a partial refund, which was a surprise.  When you got back to your room you found Gustav was awake and had changed into his normal clothes.  It was a little surprising after having only seen him in his suit.  Tight blue jeans, sneakers, and a Pink Floyd t-shirt completed his look.  He’d brushed his dark hair back from his forehead and you were again wondering just how old he was.  My god, were you stealing from a cradle?

His smile was beaming as he saw you walk into the room.  “Well it’s official, you are my new tour guide buddy.” 

He quickly moved to your side and pulled you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours in a brief kiss.  Gustav gestured for you to pack up and then, with another mix of Swedish and English told you he’d be back with the car from where he’d left it.  One more kiss and he headed out of the room.

You shook your head still smiling, then quickly packed up your small amount of belongings.  A few minutes later and you were heading down into the lobby.  As you walked by the dining area you caught a glimpse of the bar maid from the other evening.  When she saw you her face darkened, eyes narrowing.  She’d probably seen Gustav leaving and put 2x2 together.  You gave her a big smile and a wave as you stepped outside.

It was bright and sunny, with just enough of a breeze.  The scent of flowers and woodsmoke were in the air.  And they were quickly joined by the sounds of what could only be ABBA on a radio.  You turned at the sound of crunching gravel as a large, off-white car came to a stop in front of you.  Your eyes widened.

“Your cousin drives a Buick?”  You asked in shock. 

Gustav, now sporting sunglasses and looking more than a little punk opened his door and slipped out while the radio blasted Lay Your Love On Me.  He nodded, moving to the trunk and opening it before taking your bags.  “Ja…he…he likes American.”  He replied in a stuttered burst of English; he gave you a flirty grin.  “I do too.”

Okay this new version of your fiddler was winning you over fast.  He placed your bags in the back and shut it with a heavy thud before taking your hand and leading you over to the passenger door which he opened for you. 

“Uh…buckle in.”  He said through the window before hurrying to the drivers side and sliding into the massive front seat. 

You smiled at him, scooting over after he placed his arm over the seat back to press against his side.  “So, what’s your cousin doing that he doesn’t need his car?”  You asked as he put the vehicle in gear.

The fiddler’s fingers gave your shoulder a squeeze as he hit the gas he answered your question.  “On tour with his band.” 

[silverandarsenic-hcs]

hey guys I know this is kinda crazy but Tobias just actually called me. Tobias Forge. ya, on the phone. he said that I actually make the rules now for all of ghost and that my word is canon. so like basically whatever I have ever said and will every say about ghost is true and that’s actually what he meant to be saying all along. yeah backstories and going forward. no I know that’s so weird, like me of all people, but HE said so, so…

[maxxiesutton]

Infodump me what is the lore between the new ghost guy vs old one? Sorry I know nothing about how they work but I wanna hear it from you ❤️❤️❤️

HALLO!!!!! (giggling and kicking my feet)

i'm guessing you mean the difference between Copia (this guy)

and perpetua

so, so, so uh *flips through mental catalogue*

ghost lore time >:)

you maybe might know this, but copia and perpetua are both played by the same guy (tobias forge), just for extra info

however!!! copia used to be the frontman, playing onstage and having fun, the usual for bands

he had two album cycles (more than any of the other guys) because of his transition from cardinal to papa

so, clearly, he was used to being in the spotlight, getting all this attention from fans

but during the Rite Here Rite Now movie, his mom (Sister Imperator (the lady in my pfp)) died of a heart attack (pretty sure that's what it was, either that or just old age)

since she was the leader of the clergy (the fictional group behind getting the band their shows and all the social media and whatnot), she decided that once she died, she was going to let copia (her son) become the new leader of the clergy

he's been put in this higher position, but because he won't be playing shows anymore (and he'll be stuck doing paperwork /hj) he feels like he's been demoted and he's clearly really sour about it

now, perpetua, as shown to us in the RHRN movie and also told to us in the latest chapter video, is copia's fraternal twin, so he's the next in line to be papa, go out on stage, do all the fun stuff

we've been told he's gonna be a quiet guy, which is chill <3

but copia didn't even know he had a twin until recently, and judging by his reactions, he still hasn't even met the guy - he's being super petty which is really funny but also kinda sad because it means that V (perpetua) probably won't be equipped with any of the love he needs ((also who the fuck raised him))

the whole situation is kinda like if some random guy showed up in your house and told you he was actually your dad, like "huh???? what the fuck????"

we're in for some sibling rivalry i think, which will be fun ^^

my hope is that these two silly twins will eventually get along

[pinkiepiebones]

Shirt Saga will always be The thing for me

-Papa III said my shirt was cool (July 2017)

-Tobias Forge said my shirt was cool (July 2017)

-I gave Copia (since Papa III was dead) an extra I had of said shirt while wearing the original shirt at a meet and greet and @csevet swore he recognised me via said shirt (May 2018)

-Copia recognised the shirt and then me at a meet and greet ("That's a pretty cool shirt you have there! I happen to have one just like it!" Then my mom said "that's because (Zombie) gave you one" to which Copia said "Yes, I know this") (October 2018)

-Copia looks from my face to my shirt to my face and says "I know we have met before!" at a meet and greet (October 2019)

-Papa IV sees me at a meet and greet and says "I'm getting like a deja vu from your shirt there, I've got one just like it-" then he snaps his fingers and says "because YOU gave me it! Yes! How are you, how have you been?" I tell him I'm working on my Master's degree and he says "I will look forward to seeing you with it!" (February 2022)

I know they're not doing meet and greets anymore but hopefully I can pass along a letter to let Frater Imperator know that I *did* get that degree... and optimistically thinking here, maybe V is aware of The Shirt... ;-;

[sis-goleona]

Dead of night

Title: Dead of Night

Pairing: Charles Rowland x GN! Reader ambiguous race

Word Count: 546

Summary: in the dead of night, Charles' one desire is to feel you.

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Sleeping Headcannon for Charles Rowland

-Ghosts do not sleep buuut if you happen to be alive then you will be the one sleeping. I think that Charles would probably lay next to you in bed (watching you)...Not in a creepy way just in admiration….he probably wishes he could sleep too, so it’s nice to pretend.

The moonlight softly punctured the glass of the window and projected its silvery light upon the hardwood floor. Except for the floor near the window; every inch of the room was cast into darkness, it would be creepy if not for the overwhelming sense of comfort Charles found in the warm body that lay next to him. His eyes scanned the bed, and a quilted blanket covered the majority of your body, in the darkness the colors and textures were muted with gray. If he thought about it hard enough he could remember what the fabric felt like; rough to the touch and crude stitching in between patchwork yet it provided lots of warmth. He wished he could feel that type of warmth just one last time. But watching you fast asleep, snuggled under those textures eased his yearning, he could live vicariously through you. Light sounds escaped your slightly open mouth, showing the whiteness of your exposed teeth. Your features looked so soft under the spell of sleep; relaxed…were you in a dream state? Charles couldn’t tell you. It seemed as though you were suspended in time, your body uncharacteristically still beside the faint rising and falling of your chest. He lifted his arm out toward you, his fingers hovering over your face, they took in the soft and textured skin of your face, the peaks, dips, and divots of your cheeks, eyebrows, and eyes. They were all unmoving…..he placed his pointer finger on the top of your cheek; he imagined the feeling, soft yet not smooth, various small bumps traversed your skin. He dragged the finger down toward your lips, his fingers moved with the curve of your face from the bottom of your cheek to the top of your cupid's bow. He would give anything to feel your skin, he wished his fingers would react to the touch he wished so greatly that his brain would take in the feeling of your lips, and keep it in storage for him to retrieve in times of desperation and need. He swiftly brought his hand down to your chin, it peaked right in the center and then plunged to meet your neck. He took his hand and dragged it along the curvature of your neck to the collar of your nightshirt. He could see the texture change but to him, it all felt the same ....Charles wished so deeply to meet desire so he could ask all his burning questions. Desire knew Charles could not feel things so why did they make him yearn for it so? Why is it that wherever he looks at you a feeling bubbles up from the depths of his stomach to the back of his throat and tries its hardest to escape from his mouth? These are things surely he could not control, if he could it would ease his mind at night when he lays next to you, when he touches you, and when he admires your body. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I felt this one in my soul....Love ya Charles

"mwah mwah mwah" - Tobias Forge

[deakyjoe]

Do you mind if I ask a question about the band Ghost please?

I’m (very confused) around the numbered what seems like lead singers? Are they all the same person but different times/phases? Not sure if it makes sense. I find it so interesting when you post about them but I just can’t figure it out!

Oh my god, my time has come… here is a guide to the Papas (lead singers) of Ghost:

So first off let me start by clarifying that the band members of Ghost (Papas as lead singers and Nameless Ghouls as instrumentalists and backing vocalists) are all characters. They’re a group of folks in masks and makeup. There’s a lot of lore and backstory around the band but we won’t touch on that too much here. I’ll just talk about the Papas - the anti-pope leads. (Also the following will contain Rite Here Rite Now/Ghovie spoilers!!)

Ok so the lead singers we’ve had in Ghost so far have been Papa Emeritus I (Primo), Papa Emeritus II (Secondo), Papa Emeritus III (Terzo) and Cardinal Copia who was eventually promoted to being Papa Emeritus IV. These lead singer characters are all half brothers (their father is Papa Nihil who we’ll discuss briefly later) and all pretty much have their own albums (few EPs and live albums in there too but I won’t bore you with those).

All the lead singers of Ghost, all Emeritus brothers, have been played by this guy - Tobias Forge!

He writes and sings all of the songs, does the majority of studio work too from what I understand. So whilst there have been several “different” lead singers of Ghost due to the role being taken over by new Papas, technically they’re all Tobias in masks.

First Papa we had in the early days (around 2010 - 2012) was Primo (Papa Emeritus I). He’s the hardest to find photos/footage of since it was the beginnings. I always affectionately refer to him as “The Old One” since he was supposed to be about 80. His album was Opus Eponymous.

Next up we had Secondo (Papa Emeritus II) for a couple years (around 2012 - 2015). His face is the one that makes an appearance on a lot of Ghost merch I find. I think of him as “The Bald One” (lovingly of course). His album was Infestissumam.

Then we had Terzo (Papa Emeritus III) for a while (around 2015 - 2017) before he was dramatically ripped off stage and (maybe) decapitated. He’s only supposed to be 3 months younger than Secondo. I call him “The Hot One” because he’s fine as hell. His album was Meliora.

Then there was a dramatic shift in the way things worked. We were out of Emeritus brothers as they kept “retiring” (supposedly according to the lore) but it’s okay because a lovely little Cardinal came along to save the day! Introducing: Cardinal Copia!! To me he’s “Just A Little Guy” which is the most accurate description of him you’ll ever hear I promise you. (Also when Copia took over it was revealed that the previous Papas had been “killed”.) His album was Prequelle.

Eventually Copia was promoted to being Papa Emeritus IV (it had been pretty heavily implied up until that point that he was also an Emeritus half brother) which meant he could wear the Papa paints now. Also Copia is my personal favourite. Copia got a second album with Impera.

We had Copia from 2018 - now (he’s just been promoted again to Frater Imperator so will probably no longer be frontman for the band). This means Papa Emeritus V will be introduced at some point (probably Copia’s twin which was a detail revealed in Rite Here Rite Now - the recent Ghost concert movie).

But going back to Papa Nihil (the father of all the Emeritus brothers). I would like to make it clear that Ghost formed in 2006 and released their first demos in 2010 but according to their lore they go back to at least the 1960s. Which is when Nihil was frontman for the group. Nihil is not played by Tobias Forge, he’s had different actors for both his old and young versions, but his songs are sung by him (e.g. the hit song Mary On A Cross). Nihil has not been lead singer for the band on stage at any point (though he does make appearances and play the sax at some of them). Nihil has an EP called Seven Inches of Satanic Panic (“originally” from 1969 and then “re-released” in 2019) which features Mary On A Cross and Kiss The Go-Goat. (Also has an additional song revealed recently - The Future Is A Foreign Land.)

So essentially all the Papas are different characters but all played by the same guy. They have different faces (masks) and makeup, different personalities, different mannerisms, and slightly different singing voices (Tobias switches up the way he sings songs slightly between Papas) as well as talking voices. There’s way more to it all (which you can read about on any fan website, or even Wikipedia,) as the lore is pretty extensive for a silly little satanic band. I’d recommend watching The Chapters on YouTube if you’re interested in more. Also Papaganda Parts 1 and 2 which are pretty funny. There’s also a few helpful videos on YouTube that discuss the Ghost timeline in way more depth.

Sorry if this was a little too much rambling but it’s difficult to be concise with Ghost. Hope this all makes sense. Thanks, anon, for the question as I love to talk about anything I’m interested in!!

[midnight-anhedonia]

I keep seeing impossible theories bounce around the ghost fandom since the movie came out so I just want to bring some people back to earth as someone who has always been huge on theorising in the fandom.

Defroque is not going to be the next Papa. If you take two seconds to think about it, you'll know why but to just humour it. How do you think that would work? The actor on stage and Tobias singing backstage for him to lip sync to? Tobias Forge would never, he's a known control freak when it comes to ghost. It's a theory that I keep seeing circulate and I hate to call something stupid but it really is.

The other theory I keep seeing is about the twins, or more who they are. I think most of us have managed to put together that it is most likely Copia having a twin but I have seen theories along the lines of "one twin has blonde hair so it must be primo because the fandom headcanons Primo as blonde!!" So I just wanted to remind people that headcanons mean nothing outside of fandom.

[a-wandering-ghoulette]

Fuck.

I was doing some cleaning in my papers (administrative shit and misc other stuff) and I found back my 'emotional support' binder.

(lot of blabla under - from basic 'old fan' stuff, recalling Tobias first TV appearance unmasked to mental health things. if you're struggling with mental health it could help or trigger you, idk. I don't go in details about anything but CW! just in case. Anw, know that my DM are open if you need someone to talk to. You're not alone sweetheart.)

It's a thing I made years ago when I was deep into depression after something like 2 years after graduating from my design and communication degree and struggling to find a job (even outside of the comm and design field, like, retail), having absolutely no support from my parents with whom I was forced to live with else I would have been homeless, in a city I didn't know, far away from my friends (in a at-the-other-side-of-the-country way).

I put a lot of silly stuff in it along with writings about how I felt (it's damn dark omfg). It succeeded in making some joy sparkle in my little cold heart during anxiety filled insomnias back then.

And so it has a Ghost section. I remember making the top one pic myself. I've known Ghost since 2013 or so ? But it's in 2018 with Prequelle that I've been hooked. My mental health has been in a rush downward since my birth, truly. It started getting pretty bad in middle school. Countless time I've been down, like, damn down. And in 2018, while I was working to get my useless degree, it wasn't my darkest time from what I recall, but far from being bright either. And Prequelle was what I needed to find a new spark of something at the moment. That's why this album is still my personal fav' (even tho I love Infestissumam and Meliora so damn much too, and Impera grew on me, and Opus Eponymous is a damn vibe, and Skeletà kinda feel like the sequel of Prequelle but also Meliora , kinda the pic point of the whole disco I guess iykwim). And connecting with the fandom, even tho I've never been the most active member, helped me so damn much. That's why I had to put some shitghost memes here.

There's also a page filled with the first official Tobias Forge pics we had back in... 2019 ? Jeez- I remember being both happy and worried to see him make his first TV appearance unmasked at Quotidien back then, knowing it would be kinda catastrophic because of the lead line the show usually follows when a hard rock/metal artist come (they HAD TO make fun of the metal community by showing him their footage of people showing their asses at Hellfest, they did it to our boys from Gojira too), but also so damn happy to have the honor to see him at one of France's most pop tv show.

Not to sound cliché or come out with having daddy issues but I remember crying over interviews of Tobias talking about his parenthood and what he was wishing for his kids and I was like- jeez. I wished I had at least one of my parents being like him lmao. I clearly remember him saying that ofc I wish his babies would get down a secured way through life BUT he would also do whatever it takes to support them if they ever happen to pursue a creative

So yeah. Made me kinda nostalgic, but in a "ah, damn, fortunately this is all in the past now". Some of you that I know are still hanging around here talked with me during that time... And thank you, friends. Thank you so much.

[cardinalmoroni]

Skeletá Predictions

Since both Prequelle and Impera were about things coming to an end - the plague and death vs the fall of an empire ("...two completely different threats of annihilation. One feels a little bit more divine, and the other a little more structured and fabricated." - Tobias Forge) - my assumption is that Skeleta is going to be about what happens after the end comes. After all, what's left once everything is dead? Bones. Skeletons. Skeleta.

Song predictions below the cut!

(Please note that my predictions are going to be about the meaning of the song/album in a narrative sense - as in, a way to tell the story of Perpetua and, by extension, the Ministry. The lyrics to the songs themselves will likely be full of metaphor and symbolism - that's what I'm trying to predict.)

Peacefield

I don't know (nor care to know) much about American history but I assume this will be about inheriting the role of those who came before. Peacefield was passed through four generations of the Adams' family, perhaps representing the three Papas who came before Copia and Perpetua, with the two of them representing the same "generation" as they're twins.

According to this website, when John Quincy Adams took over Piecefield following the death of his parents, he said this:

My father and mother have departed… The charm which has always made this house to me an abode of enchantment is dissolved; and yet my attachment to it, and to the whole region round is stronger than I ever felt before.

With Ghost Chapter 19 revealing that Nihil and Sister are leaving ("retiring"), this might also refer to how either of the two brothers feel regarding being still in the Ministry with the two of them gone. However, this could also be an introductory instrumental.

Lachryma

Lachryma means "tear" and with just that, there's a lot of directions that could go. I'm specifically going to go in a wine-related direction with Lachryma Christi - an italian wine! It's frequently mentioned in books, if you'll forgive my direct quoting of its wikipedia page for a moment:

The Dutch novelist Harry Mulisch mentions the wine ... in his 1987 novel The Pupil. In the short story "Rappaccini's Daughter" ... a glass of lachryma is drunk by the protagonist "which caused his brain to swim with strange fantasies".

Seeing as the song that comes directly after Lachryma is Satanized, it could be going into the fantasies the priest/Perpetua had that were leading him to sin.

Additionally, there's apparently a myth about Lucifer stealing a part of heaven upon his expulsion, creating the Gulf of Naples with Mount Vesuvius forming along its shoreline. Jesus apparently cried over this and his tears fertilised the soil. However, it's SO hard finding a source for this, I spent so long looking and this is what I've settled on after forty minutes of research. Does this contribute to my theory at all? No, but I thought it was interesting and I wasted too much time on it.

Satanized

Not so much a prediction but my own interpretation. I think this being the first song we see for Perpetua's era is very telling - it's to introduce him and the themes to expect in the album as a whole.

Personally, my current theory is that Satanized is about who Perpetua was before coming to the Ministry. I think it'd be interesting to see a Papa who was not brought up around the Ministry's beliefs and who converted later on, someone who still maybe isn't fully on-board with it all. The actual Perpetua was martyred in 203 (the time of Imperial Rome), when christians were punished (such as through imprisonment, lashings and execution) if they did not give up or recant their beliefs in Christ. As such, I think it's possible that Perpetua is someone who was also persecuted during his time within the christian church, not just for his sins but his eventual refusal to atone, which led to him instead turning to Satan and the Ministry.

Guiding Lights / De Profundis Borealis

I didn't actually know what to think about Guiding Lights at first. I think it could be about Satan/Lucifer himself - after all, we get the lyrics "the guidance of the morning star" in He Is. I think this represents a turning point in the story of Skeleta, where Perpetua gives up on the christian church and begins his conversion to Satanism - during which, he calls out to Satan while he despairs in the christian church in De Profundis

De Profundis refers to the first verse of Psalm 130, a psalm of confession. In the psalm, one would call out to god (usually in a moment of despair) and ask for forgiveness over one's "iniquities" or immoral behaviour. Borealis simply means "northern" and so the translation of this song's title would likely be "out of the northern depths".

"De profundis clamavi ad te Domine" "Out of the depths I have cried to thee, O Lord"

Alternatively, De Profundis could be a continued cry to god to turn him away from sin. I'm not sure!

Also, I think one of these songs has a high chance of being an instrumental. I'm not sure which exactly but I'm going to get De Profundis Borealis just because it's in Latin. I literally have no other reason for thinking this.

Cenotaph

The word cenotaph comes from the Greek words for "empty tomb" and is a memorial to someone who is buried somewhere else. While this could be literally a cenotaph, I personally think that this is instead going to be about a symbolic death, where the cenotaph refers to the grave of Perpetua's past self as he moves onwards. Not many thoughts on this one!

Missilia Amori

So, if you slap this into Google Translate, it becomes "missiles of love". However, it seems as though "amori" is more meant to refer not to love itself but rather the act of making love, aka sex. As such, I want to say the translation of this title should be "fuck missiles".

My prediction is this is going to be a song about sex. Just so much sex. If this isn't the horniest song on the album, I'll be shocked. I imagine this will represent the moment that Perpetua gave into the sins of Satanized (and perhaps Lachryma) at last.

Marks of the Evil One

I think this is, and hear me out on this one, maybe about the antichrist. Wild suggestion, I know. Although most often think of there being a singular antichrist, it's more accurate to say that after the first antichrist, many more will arrive.

Children, it is the last hour! As you have heard that antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have come. From this we know that it is the last hour. - First Epistle of John, 2:18

Revelations 13 describes two beasts, with the first commonly being thought of as the Actual Antichrist and the second being the false profits who proclaim his authority while wielding his power. The first has "ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns" with crowns likely representing authority. The second beast has "two horns like a lamb" with lambs often representing sacrifices.

At first, I though that Copia (having become Frater Imperator) - represented the first beast, while Perpetua represented the second beast (being named after a martyr, who are often compared with the sacrificial lamb).

However, I'm now going to out myself as one of the "Terzo resurrection" theorists. I have crumbs for us! Of course, this could contradict everything I've said prior (unless we also apply it to Terzo before coming to the Ministry). Oops. However I do want to still bring it up since I think it is worth thinking about.

Revelations 13:3 says this:

And I saw one of his heads as it were wounded to death; and his deadly wound was healed: and all the world wondered after the beast.

Look, we know how Terzo died. Beheading. I swing between it being an important detail and it being for dramatic flair and now, I'm swinging back to it being an important detail. We can see Perpetua is in a purple chasubule. Although Terzo's chasubule was mostly black, the inner lining was purple. Him dying and returning as Perpetua would work well to fulfill the concepts within Revelations 13 and further link him to martyrdom. If this theory does turn out to be correct, that would instead have Terzo/Perpetua as the first beast and Copia as the second.

Umbra

Shadow. Again, really not a lot to say about this. I think I used all my brain on the prior songs.

Excelsis

Likely a final instrumental as is common, this probably refers to "in excelsis"/"Gloria in excelsis Deo" (glory to God in the highest). This hymn would be sang or recited during mass, where it basically praises god. I would expect that this will be a satanic version where it instead praises either Satan or Perpetua as the antichrist.

[fieldghoul]

I happened to read this interview where Alex Ross Perry (co-director of Rite Here Rite Now) was talking about his Videoheaven and Pavements projects, and this quote jumped out at me:

Cinema Scope: There’s a line that keeps popping up in Videoheaven: “The movies talk about themselves.” I like this a lot, and it’s interesting that a filmmaker like Brian De Palma was ahead of the curve in assessing the symbolic or semiotic potency of the video-store space, whereas later on it served mostly as a backdrop for romantic comedies. It was a way to hint that the characters had inner lives, and taste, but rarely to the point where they genuinely talk about movies. It’s like a weird uncanny-valley thing: I remember always wondering what the characters on Friends would say about La Dolce Vita (1961), the poster for which is hanging in Monica’s apartment, or if the version of Die Hard (1988) they rented had actual profanity in it…  Alex Ross Perry: Well, this is something that only people like us would ever think about. If they rent Die Hard on Friends, but then Bruce Willis appears in a later season as Ross’ girlfriend’s father, in this world, is there simply a guy who looks like Willis and has his mannerisms, and so on? And has he ever seen Die Hard? This question is of course made text in Last Action Hero (1993), with the Stallone Terminator 2 (1991) gag. To say nothing of the now well-known and HD-enhanced fact that on Seinfeld, Jerry owns Child’s Play 2 (1991) and Arachnophobia (1990) on VHS, along with Pretty Woman (1990), which stars Jason Alexander…I’m reading too much into all this, but so would a De Palma character. 

(For some broader context -- Videoheaven is an as-yet unreleased documentary about video stores, particularly as they're featured in film.)

But it made me think, it's funny, isn't it -- the VHS tapes in Rite Here Rite Now.

Some of them are vague -- for the two box sets next to the TV, the top one has a logo that was used for Prequelle Exalted version, and the bottom is the logo for either Impera (possibly Phantomime, it's hard to tell which with the color grading in the movie). I don't think anybody has definitively figured out what Ghost In the Trees means, but Haze Over North America Tour 2013 was a real tour that happened, but no audio or video of it was ever released (at least, not in our universe).

On the table, we have one more box set with the If You Have Ghosts logo and art, and we see tapes of the Chapters videos. New Blood, Tax Season and Meanwhile in Dublin, are shown up close, plus Nap Time is on the desk in front of Sister Imperator.

The fact that the Chapters exist on VHS is what's so weird. There's really no way to reconcile the existence of these tapes in the Ghost universe with the way most people would have understood the Chapters up until now. I think the default interpretation of a piece of fiction is that it is true in its own reality -- i.e. in the universe where Cardinal Copia is himself, and not Tobias Forge in a mask, the Chapters are something that actually happened. It's much weirder to see it it as some kind of meta-fiction, where it's a scripted production put together and released by these fictional characters. But Rite Here Rite Now is a movie about Copia and Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil and not the actors that play them - how could the chapters possibly co-exist with the characters in-universe?

I always think that's a fun part of Ghost -- the veil between the universe of Ghost's lore and reality is often so thin. They come out to play in our world in the form of concerts, and it's not quite like meeting Mickey Mouse in Disney World where the costumed character's experiences have no bearing on the canon. The real life shows Ghost performs add to the counter Papa Nihil is keeping for Copia. The accolades that they allude to in the Chapters - the Grammy, the gold certification for Mary On A Cross, TikTok virality - all happen in real life.

For the record, I don't think we're meant to explain the tapes in RHRN, for the record -- my interpretation it is just a nod to what Alex Ross Perry mentioned in the interview. It is impossible to have a fictional storyline that takes place in the real world without running up against paradoxes you create.

Also, allow me to plug my own post, from earlier: besides the VHS I already mentioned, there are two others on the table that are partially obscured and unidentifiable - the one in the GIF above, with the Union Jack on it, and one other in an orange case that appears to say "Australian Tour" (the "tour" part is cut off in this screen cap, but is somewhat visible in the video). I can't tell if there's other text on the VHS cover, or if it's just graphics.

I can't figure out if it's young Nihil on the cover or a stylized version of Papa III -- but either way, Papa Nihil of course never went on an Australian tour in our reality (or, theoretically, in theirs - since, per Metal Myths, Nihil's version of Ghost "immediately disbanded" - not that Ghost is unwilling to retcon things) but neither did Papa III. There were plans for an Australian tour during Meliora era, but they fell through when Soundwave was cancelled in 2016. But I guess it's another point where their reality diverges from ours :-)

[guttersnarls]

A little back story from MCC on Passiflora, Subvision and "Savantgarde" x

"In the summer of 2007 an album called ”Passiflora” was recorded in Linköping, Sweden. It was to be the second full length album by the band Subvision, lead by Tobias and in which Martin and Simon were members at the time. The album had ten songs, most of them written solely by T, some co-written by M, and one track even had an old riff written by former Subvision bass player G. However, one of the songs - "Savantgarde” - was written solely by M, but as it didn’t quite fit the sound of MCC at the time, it was added to the Subvision repertoire. Safe to say - we had a lot of things going on at the time. Lots of ideas, lots of cross-pollination. But so it was, that soon after the recordings of ”Passiflora”, Subvision disbanded. It is time- and mind consuming to be in 2-3 ambitious bands at the same time. It was then decided that the newly recorded album would instead go under the name of ”Tobias Forge & Magna Carta Cartel - Passiflora”, but that idea was soon scrapped as T was also part of MCC at the time, and what was thought to become a synergy effect combining the names instead became stress, migraine and meetings with us not knowing were one thing started and the other ended. The album was then simply named ”Tobias Forge - Passiflora” and promo CDs were sent out to a vast range of record companies in hopes to land a deal. No luck. To this day, ”Passiflora” is still unreleased. The promotional CDs once sent out to labels has since become quite the collectors item amongst @/thebandghost fans and all types of Gossip Professors in the field. When finishing writing songs for ”The Dying Option” M wanted to use ”Savantgarde” - the unreleased song recorded in 2007 that was just laying around on an album that was not, and maybe never will be, released. Said and done - a few alterations were made; the new version would have a slower pace to it, and where acoustic guitars driving the old version, Juno Pads would instead dress this new recording. Along with some alterations to the arrangements of the chorus and cutting out one of two breakdowns, it was finally completed and released as you can hear it on ”The Dying Option”

[jessicafangirl]

Under The Mask Chapter 2

Hey Kids. Glad to discover there are more Special Ghoul Phil lovers out there than myself. I've created my own take on the ghouls and their lore here. So just know this is my little take and I'm not trying to say it the one everyone should have. Let your lore be yours. And thanks be to Tobias Forge for nearly killing himself to give these seeds of magic to us all. I'm hoping to finish this tale in the 3rd chapter...but I'm a wordy bitch and this may be 4 parts. We shall see. Sorry this is sort of...long.

You can also read this here at AO3. If you like it please comment, kudo, share, send me Diet Mello Yello or Coke Zero...or you know...a Phil.

Stevie looked out the windows of the darkened glass of the black SUV as it drove slowly through the parking lot.  It wasn’t stopping and at this point was passing carefully through the crowds walking into the venue.  She smiled at the sight of probably 50 Papa Secondo’s in various sizes walking with significant others or parents.  Some ghouls were there too.  Mostly though it was a sea of black Ghost shirts and a few other bands.  Everyone looked happy.

She had barely made it within her allotted time.  Her attire this evening was a pair of black jeans, black Doc Martens with silver skulls stitched into the material and a slightly off shoulder Kiss t-shirt with the cover of Dynasty on the front.  It wasn’t vintage but it was distressed and had black and white rhinestones along the top.  Nervous, she double checked her make up hadn’t melted off in her panic.  Nope…still hanging on for dear life as she checked her compact, also double checking she hadn’t mismatched her earrings.  Nope, still the small rhinestone skulls with the little black stones for eyes. 

Stevie shoved the compact back in her small leather concert bag.  It didn’t take up a lot of room and held the necessities: compact, lipstick, cards, and phone.  She could strap it across her chest and the little bag hung down and out of the way.  She’d murder anyone who ever tried to take it from her because she’d never find another like it.

She shouldn’t feel this nervous…she worked in this world and had met a lot of famous musicians in the rock and metal scene.  But as the car drove through the now open gate to the back of the venue, Stevie felt out of place.  She didn’t get to do the backstage thing at these shows much less be invited to it by someone with the band.

Reminding herself not to chew her lipstick off again she was surprised to see a masked ghoul come over and open her door for her almost as soon as the SUV had stopped.  The ghoul held out a hand for her to hop out.  “Miss Morton, I’m going to take you backstage.”  The tall, thin ghoul said.  He then held out a lanyard.  “Please put this on.” 

The green and black Ghost logo was prismatic on the plastic and in big bold letters it stated VIP above the name and below it was BACKSTAGE ALL ACCESS.  Her eyes widened.  “Uh, thank you.”  She replied and slipped it on over her neck. 

“Follow me please.”  The ghoul said and turned to head into the venue. 

Stevie noticed the oddly echoing sound of the ghoul’s voice then.  She wondered if he had a microphone or something that was causing the oddness of tone.  Or maybe she was just overwhelmed by literally everything happening. 

The backstage area was organized chaos.  She saw techs running around, road crew and assistance with headsets shouting back and forth.  The opening band was just starting to perform, a good one that she’d listened to with a black magic vibe perfectly paired with Ghost.  The ghoul turned back to her, noticing she was lagging back as she looked around at everything.  He stopped and waited for her to realize he’d done just that.

“Oh…sorry….I…don’t get to go backstage much.”  She told him.  He nodded slightly and then gestured again for her to follow him.

He led her to a room that had the bands logo printed on a piece of paper and beneath it Green Room.  Someone had added in cursive black marker the words “Black and” before the word Green.  Somehow Stevie knew that Papa Secondo had made his presence known with that. 

“You can wait in here and someone will take you stage side before the show really starts.”  The ghoul said and waved her inside. 

She told him thank you and headed into the room.  It was a large one with a few couches and a long table laden with small sandwiches, bottles of wine, water, soda, and what looked like butter cookies with powdered sugar on them.  On one of the couches Stevie recognized two of the trio that had been hanging with Secondo.  The older one was asleep, mouth gaping a little.  The younger one was tapping away at her phone. 

Stevie figured it would be for the best to stay at a safe distance.  She picked up a Coke Zero and started looking at the numerous concert posters that covered one whole wall of the room.  Some of them went as far back as the 60s.  She was smitten by the designs and thought for a moment of pulling out her own phone and snapping pictures of the wall.  One of them showed the Rolling Stones and her eyes widened a bit.

“That was a good show.”  A familiar voice spoke softly near her, causing Stevie to jump in surprise. 

She turned and saw Phil was standing there, a different suit, this one a bit more formal looking even down to wearing spats over his black dress shoes.  His silver mask reflected the soft lights of the room as did the jade green of his eyes as they watched her. 

“You were there?”  She asked him after trying to calm her heart down after her mini stroke.

Phil turned to the poster, hands behind his back and leaning down.  “Oh yes, fantastic show.  Only one tiny riot to distract from the performance.” 

Stevie raised an eyebrow.  “What were you like…a year old?”  She asked him.

The ghoul leaned back up and turned to her.  “I’m older than I look.”  He told her. 

“Are we talking maskwise or?  She asked him, taking a drink of her soda. 

“Maybe you’ll find out.”  He replied.  He caught himself then, being a bit too forward.  He needed to focus on the goal which was…having her join their ranks.  Also, making sure her current employers realized their mistake and what they were losing when she quit them and joined the project.  And she would indeed do that if he had any say in the matter. 

Phil remembered the discussion with Secondo earlier that evening.  He’d been leery of going to the Papa with the idea that had been plaguing him when he’d realized what was happening with Stevie.  He couldn’t stop thinking about the treatment and unfairness and just the simple using of her talents for someone else’s gain.  It rankled him greatly, going against the teaching of the church in so many ways. 

He hoped Secondo’s predilection for a curvy woman would play in his favor as he found the Papa sitting in the back of a tour bus reading an Italian comic book while drinking a glass of white wine.  For once his harem was nowhere around. “Papa, may I speak with you?”  He had asked, hands behind his back and waiting patiently.

“Ah, Phil, come join me.”  Secondo gestured to the couch.  “Would you like a glass of wine?  It’s nothing compared to the vineyard at the Ministry but alas we must make do.” 

Phil shook his head.  “Grazie Papa, but no, I’m fine.”

Secondo raised a dark brow.  “You seem troubled Phil…what is it?”  He closed the comic and placed it on the side table. 

Phil sighed.   “I discovered something today and I want to help if I can…if we can I should say.”  He said. 

“Vai avanti.”  Secondo gestured for him to proceed; his interest piqued. 

“The woman from Plug and Play…”  He started.

“Ah, si…la bella dea.”  Secondo made a chefs kiss gesture. 

Phil shook his silver masked head.  “Yes, that’s the one.” 

He paused for a moment and then proceeded to tell the Papa exactly what he’d witnessed.  Secondo’s face had turned a shade of red that Phil didn’t know could exist in nature.  A vein started pounding on the side of his shaved head.  Finally Phil detailed the conversation with Stevie and as he watched he saw the white of Secondo’s infernal eye distinctly start glowing. 

“Quegli idioti fottuti non sanno cosa hanno!”  The Papa looked dangerously close to exploding, his voice vibrated in the enclosed space of the tour bus like a growling echo.

Phil nodded.  “I’ve come up with a solution to help her.”  He said in a far calmer voice.

“We kill the fucker.”  The Papa cut him off.  “Si, this is a good plan.”  Secondo grabbed his wine glass and downed its contents in one go.  “I will help.”

While the ghoul wouldn’t normally mind such a thing this would cause more issues and draw unwanted attention.  Also, it was too quick.  He really wanted them to see her succeed and be appreciated.  That would be the best revenge.  “Actually, I had a different idea.”

“Oh...” Secondo looked disappointed.  “What is your idea then fratello?”

Phil was glad he was still listening and not grabbing a sword from the small collection he always brought on tour.  The ghoul had always been nervous about that quirk of the Papa’s. 

“I want to offer her a job with the ministry and the project.  Make her be the go-to for information on the band, the face of the socials etc. when it isn’t you.  Let her be our press guru…don’t hide her away, let her do what she’s good at but for us.”  Phil sent a quick prayer to the dark lord that Secondo would see this was a great idea.  Or at least his lustful soul would.

The Papa had smoothed his fingers over his mustache and hummed thoughtfully.  “Hmm.  I like this idea.  She deserves to be appreciated.  And she would be with us...”

Phil’s tail flicked nervously as he saw the lustful gears working in the Papa’s head.  He felt a stab quickly of jealousy and batted it away.  That wasn’t what this was about…no no…he…he wasn’t in competition with Papa for this woman.  He’d lose anyway, wouldn’t he?  The tall, handsome, broad-shouldered head of the clergy vs. the demon who was on the shorter side that was in fact a demon and not human and whose face she’d never seen.  Sure, who would the woman run to?  Phil tried and failed to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. 

“Si, lets do it.  Offer her the job.”  Secondo slapped his gloved hand on the couch’s arm rest emphasizing his decision. 

Phil let out a relived sigh.  “Thank you Papa.  I’ll invite her backstage to the concert tonight.”  The ghoul stood to leave but Secondo’s voice stopped him.

“Phil…do you…have another interest in this bella donna?”  The Papa’s voice was a mix of teasing and curious as he raised a dark eye brow. 

The ghoul stiffened, his tail whipping nervously and he couldn’t stop it.  “What…what do you mean Papa?”

“You know what I mean.”  Secondo pursed his lips and then gave a rather diabolical grin.  “I give you tonight to make a move fratello and if you don’t…I will, si?”

Phil’s green eyes widened in his mask.  What did he say to that?  Rather than having spoken a response he simply gave a nod and headed out of the tour bus.

And now here he was standing next to the bella donna in question and realizing…he really did want to make a move apparently and had no idea how he was supposed to do that AND offer her a job…while not getting into the whole 9 levels of hell that was human resource violations.  From somewhere in the back of his mind a voice said “well, you aren’t human…so those don’t apply.”  Phil sighed. 

“Do you ever take it off?”  Stevie asked him.

Phil realized he’d dazed out for a second.  “Take it off?”  he asked.

“The mask, is it like a Mandalorian thing or just for while you are working?”  She smiled at him, trying to see if she could see more than just his eyes and failing.

Had she really just made a Star Wars reference?  Oh…his tail was really trying to pull free from the belt holding it in place against his back.  It was really liking her at the moment.  “Uh…it’s complicated.”  He replied finally.  “But we do take them off…we don’t wear them all the time.”

“Ah, okay.”  Stevie wasn’t going to push it.  Artists had their own sorts of rules, and she wasn’t going to push him.  But the curiosity was eating her alive.  “I…I did want to thank the band for the invite to this.”  She paused, not sure who had sent it.  “I mean, as crazy as it sounds, I’ve not been backstage like this before.”

Phil smiled at the fact this was a treat for her.   Then realized why it was a rare thing, and he frowned, of course she couldn’t see that.  “Well…I’m happy you accepted.”  He said giving a slight bow.  “You did great work today and I feel you deserve a peek…behind the mask…so to speak.”  Oh, stop this you idiot.  You’ve been around long enough you should be better at this. 

Her grey eyes widened a little.  “Oh you pulled this hat trick off?”  She asked him surprised.

He was blushing and she couldn’t see that either…thank the dark lord.  “I guess you could say being the “special ghoul” has privileges.”  He winced internally.  Phil…you are not a young ghoul.  It may have been a while since you’ve swam in the relationship pool…but Satan’s balls you can’t strike out here.  Secondo would not strike out.  He couldn’t remember a time the triple B had ever failed in that pursuit.

Stevie grinned.  “I mean, it’s in the title.”  She said and took another drink of her soda.  “Do you ever get to play on stage?”  She asked.

Phil was surprised by the question.  No one had asked him that before.  “It’s been a while, but back in the early days I did a few things.” 

She cocked a brow.  “What sort of things?  Did you sing?  Guitar?” 

His tail was going insane, and he was thankful he’d made a point it was strapped down as well as it was.  Phil glanced away, taking a breath to calm his nerves.  It had been a while since he’d talked about this sort of thing.  He didn’t want to admit how much he missed being on stage with his fellow ghouls.  “Back up singing, guitar, even got to play a pipe organ once.”  He said wistfully but with a bit of pride.  He missed it truly, but his path of service had led him to a different path. 

“A pipe organ?”  Stevie’s eyes widened.  “How very Phantom of the Opera.  What was that like?” 

Thank Satan for the mask.  He was sure he was blushing furiously now.  “Intimidating.  But…I’m a quick study.”  He stood up a little straighter as he saw in her gaze a look of being intrigued and…dare he think…interest?  “But enough about me.  Would you like a quick tour before the show starts?”

Stevie quickly drank the last of her soda.  All she’d need is to trip carrying it and causing herself to be electrocuted next to a sound set up.  The equipment was her biggest concern.  “I’d love it.”  She said tossing the can into the recycle.

Phil gestured toward the door, noticing the two of Secondo’s harem watching their interaction.  He heard them mumble something under their breaths in Italian.  He caught something along the lines of “What the fuck is she doing here?” and “When did they start letting farm animals come in the backstage?”  The Ghoul turned as soon as Stevie was out the door and let his demonic side out for a moment.  Green eyes blazing in unholy light, he hissed at the two of them, causing both women to let out tiny shrieks of fear and surprise.  They clutched each other on the couch trembling. 

Well…he still had it in some areas it seemed.  With a final low growl of warning, he shut the door.  He found Stevie looking around enraptured by the simple amount of activity and things happening around them.  She turned back to him at his approach.  “Everything okay?”  She asked him.

Phil straightened the cuffs of his jacket.  “Yes, quite alright.  Come along and I’ll show you around.  No wandering off though, it’s easy to get lost back here.”  He offered her his arm and she took it.  Phil could feel the warmth of her through the satin of his jacket.  And this close he could smell the perfume she was wearing, something spicy and sweet. 

He couldn’t be distracted; he needed to focus on making a good impression so she said yes to the offer.  The job offer.  That was the important thing…not…not the fact he was he wanted to rip his mask off and shove his face into the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder and…Dark Lord give him strength.  He needed to not fuck this up.  For various reasons. 

They walked past some of the other ghouls who made some interesting gestures when Stevie wasn’t looking.  Phil made a very specific gesture back at them, also when she wasn’t looking to get them to screw off and leave him alone.  Phil pointed out some interesting points, especially when they got to the guitars which Stevie was cooing over. 

“Oh my god these are beautiful.”  She said, staring but afraid to touch them. 

“We’ve got quite a variety for the band ghouls.”  He said, a teeny bit of envy crawling down his spine as he looked at them. 

She turned with bright eyes at him.  “Do you still play?”  She asked him.

Phil glanced at the beautiful purple and black axe that was laying in repose in a velvet lined case.  His fingers itched for a moment.  “Not…not regularly.  And not on stage anymore.”  He said, voice wistful. 

Stevie could hear it in his tone, he missed being a part of the music.  Maybe not necessarily the band but she could tell in one way he was like her.  He wasn’t allowed to be on stage in a way.  And she knew the sting of that.  She turned back to him with a soft smile.  “I’d love to hear you play sometime.  I mean, if you strum the strings a certain way does a band of demons show up to play along?”

Phil’s head whipped up quickly to her.  She was joking of course…at least partially but he could scent out a lie just like any good ghoul could.  She wasn’t lying.  She actually wanted to hear him play.  “Uh…certainly.  I mean…” 

Stevie realized then she’d probably never see the guy again after tonight.  They’d be heading off on the rest of the tour.  And what was she even thinking?  What kind of line was that…did she mean it to be a line?  Asking to hear a guy play guitar sometime.  Christ, she really wasn’t trying to flirt with him because that just didn’t happen with her.  Stop embarrassing yourself Morton… “I’m sorry, I forgot you all will be gone tomorrow.  Rain check for the next time you’re in town maybe.”  She said, glancing away, cheeks warming.  Now she was blushing like an idiot.

Phil’s lips parted in surprise.  The scent of emotions on the chilled air had changed.  His nose picked up the essence of doubt, embarrassment, and…dare he hope…was that…smitten?  He nearly tripped over a cable.  No, no…he needed to keep this going.  Dark Lord he hadn’t expected to have this be happening so…easily? 

The ghoul realized though that this was not so easy.  Stevie had no idea what he and the rest of the ghouls were.  She didn’t know the reality of the Ministry either and that would all have to be explained when he offered her the position.  It would have to be explained if he tried to ask her out.  She hadn’t even seen his face and when she did it would be fairly obvious, he wasn’t human.  And what then?  If she ran away screaming and everything fell apart? 

He couldn’t wear the mask forever.  If he wanted an actual relationship with this woman who had him making deals with Papa and wanting to save her from the dipshits who were using her, he needed to be honest.  He didn’t want to hide what he was; he wanted to show her who he was and guide her through a world where magic was real…music was the heart of it…and the dark could be beautiful.  He wanted her to become part of the project where she’d be accepted (he’d have a talk with Secondo regarding his harem’s treatment of her) and he knew…if she gave it a shot…she’d be happy.

Phil felt the doubt trying to take over.  Maybe he should let Secondo do this…at least the Papa was human.  Mostly he supposed.  The Emeritus line had a touch of the devil in them and always had.  But other than the infernal eye they were for all intents and purposes human.  Phil didn’t know how he’d react if she was terrified of him.  Probably curling up in a ball and crying would be the most likely outcome.  But he needed to try.  She was worth trying for. 

As they’d been walking in silence for a couple of minutes, Phil didn’t notice he’d walked right by her as she stared into a sectioned off area.   He quickly came back to her side.  “Ah, you’ve found the wardrobe area.”  He said.

There were masks here like his own on tables and the ghoulettes masks as well.  Secondo’s robes and headgear, suits for all the band and additional designs hung around them. 

“This is beautiful.”  Stevie sighed.  The work on the costumes and designs was lovely.  The green and black silks, the shiny black suits all caught her eye.  The masks were gleaming under the lights, nearly mirror like in their shine. 

Phil smiled at her expression.  He pushed the curtain aside further and gestured inside.  “Come with me, I’ll show you around.”  He said. 

She was hesitant to touch anything he noticed, her fingers reaching out to run along one of Secondo’s more elaborate robes then stopping.  “Here, like this.”  Phil came to her side and took hold of her hand, lightly placing it against the silken layers and the crystals embroidered there.  His gloved fingers rested above hers.  He managed to speak again while trying not to stutter.  Her hand was so warm.  “You can touch them.  They’re made to live through the performances, so they are hardier than they look.”

Stevie nodded, her mouth suddenly dry.  She hadn’t noticed before how she could feel a coolness, almost a chill from his hand where it touched her, even through his glove.  No wonder he was wearing them.  But even with the cold she found herself growing a little flushed.  Oh don’t do something stupid…she thought to herself.  “The work on these is amazing.”  She said slightly breathless.

“To keep the attention of the public sometimes it requires a bit of flash.”  Phil reluctantly removed his hand from hers, moving to another rack of costumes.  “It just so happens we have a current Papa who wants to make sure the world appreciates his style.”  He gestured towards yet another set of robes in green and black encrusted with giant green stones making up the grucifix designs along it. 

Stevie laughed suddenly.  “You mean like the music video with the uh…flash?” 

Phil shook his head sighing.  “That was…a choice.”  Secondo and his exhibitionist side on full display for the world.  Of course she’d seen it. 

Stevie moved over to the table with the ghoul masks.  Phil followed her, picking up one of the ghoulette versions.  He glanced at her through his own mask, green eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.  “Did you want to try one on?”

“Am I that obvious?”  She asked him chewing her lower lip as her gaze looked at the distorted image of herself reflected in the chrome mask.

“I wouldn’t say obvious.  Maybe excited?”  The ghoul replied.  Very gently he lowered the mask over her hair.  She’d closed her eyes as he’d done so.  “Ah, there we go.”  He said and at the words her eyes opened.  Phil felt his chest tighten for a moment as he saw her pale gaze looking out from the chrome mask.  Oh…she’d make a lovely ghoul…

Stevie felt the soft lining of the mask against her skin, the chrome like metal surprisingly light.  The scent of incense seemed to be embedded within the velvety material.  “How does it look?”  She asked him, glancing around for a mirror. 

Phil took her hand and led her to a corner.  “You tell me.”  He said, gesturing to a full-length mirror. 

She looked at herself in the glass.  The mask might have been a little large, but it looked neat as hell.  Not seeing her own chubby cheeked face looking back at her was a welcome change.  The mask…  She supposed the one she wore was a 20 something goth waif.  She looked at her wide hips, the rest of her body that didn’t fit what was considered attractive and behind the chrome she sighed.  “Too bad you don’t have a full body suit.”  She muttered to herself. 

The ghoul caught the scent of her spiral, like choking smoke and burning leaves.  He heard the whisper of her words, and he felt the ripple of anger rush through him at her bosses and anyone else who had made her feel like this about herself.  His fingers flexed in his gloves, and he had to resist a sudden urge to just…hug her.

She glanced up at him.  “It’s beautiful Phil.  Really, everything is out of a dark fairy tale.”

It shook him back to himself.  “Our designers will be glad to hear that.”  He told her.  “Here, let me help take that off, we’re getting near showtime.” 

Stevie lowered her head a little bit and the ghoul carefully pulled the mask off.  He placed it back on the table and turned back to her.  Before he could stop himself, he gently brushed a lock of her hair back from her forehead where it had fallen.  “Pardon me…”  He muttered, pulling his hand back like it had been scalded.  He needed to control these overly familiar urges until…well…he just needed to. 

She tried not to blush again, but it was really difficult when he was doing things like that.  She wasn’t used to any of this.  And she refused to let her thoughts lead her to some insane notion that he was actually interested in her.  That didn’t happen, not to her.  Not with the dapper guy in the silver mask with the longer fingers wrapped in black leather and eyes that looked like they were made out of the greenest leaves ever.  Oh Christ Stevie…what is wrong with you?  Honestly…what the hell?

Phil glanced over into a box that was sitting nearby.  He reached in and pulled out something.  “Here…a memento for going behind the curtain.” 

The ghoul took her hand and placed in it an embroidered and bejeweled patch that matched the one on his suit jacket.  The grucifix design was intricate and stunning.  “Oh…Phil, I can’t…”  She said, shaking her head.

He closed her fingers over it.  “Yes, you can.  Special Ghoul has special privileges, remember?”  he said grinning though she couldn’t see it. 

Stevie found herself chewing her lip again.  Her lipstick was going to be gone in no time if it wasn’t already.  “Thank you Phil.”  Her voice was soft and after one more glance at the patch she placed it into her bag. 

“Prego cara.”  He replied, voice equally soft and slipping into Italian without realizing it.  She glanced up at him with a curious expression on her face and he realized what he’d said.  Oh.  He needed to be careful.  Maybe.  Maybe just to hell with it, that’s what Secondo would say. 

Suddenly Phil’s head turned, and he looked up.  “Oh, the show is going to start soon.” 

Stevie looked at him strangely.  She hadn’t heard anything announcement, but maybe he just knew from experience.

The ghoul offered her his arm once again.  “Come along, you’ll have the best seat in the house.”  He said and led her out into the wide hallway that led to the stage. 

The band ghouls were already near the stage entrance, a couple already wearing their instruments.  Stevie could hear the crowd, and it sounded massive even over the speakers playing loud metal overhead. 

The ghouls glanced at Phil and noticed immediately he had the woman’s arm locked in with his own.  One of the taller ones with a bass nearby him caught Phil’s eye and immediately formed a heart with his fingers, batting his eyelashes under his mask.  Phil made a throat cutting gesture at him, hidden from view of Stevie.  The bigger ghoul laughed. 

That was when Papa Secondo emerged flanked by two ghoulettes who were helping him ensure his miter and robes didn’t get caught on anything. 

Secondo’s harem was with him of course.  Before they got near to the ghouls and Stevie though, he appeared to dismiss them with a pat to the backside for all three.  “Dolce amores, off with you.  Papa must perform without such distractions.”  

The imposing figure of Secondo was made more so with the height added by his mitre.  One of the ghouls took the staff he was carrying so he could ensure his robes were in order.  He glanced over and saw Stevie and Phil and immediately he smiled, which was unnerving with the skull painted on his face.  “Ah!  Bella!  You are here to see Papa rock the pants off everyone here?”

Stevie couldn’t help it she grinned.  He was unashamedly cocksure and overt in everything he did.  “I am indeed Papa.”  She replied.

He quickly came over and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and brushing them against her knuckles, glancing quickly over to Phil who was standing as stiff as a board.  “Bene, bene.  I shall make this performance extra special for you cara.  Perhaps you will…lose your pants.”  

Phil let out a small growl and quickly interjected.  “No one will be losing their pants…”. 

Stevie was still laughing and noticed the Papa was still not letting her hand go.  “Well…the pants will be staying on Papa it sounds like, but I look forward to the rocking.”  

Secondo had heard the growl, and he could tell that his attentions to the lovely woman were rankling the ghoul.  Good, he needed to be rankled.  She was worthy of jealousy, of being fought over if needed.  Secondo was not cruel, but if Phil wanted such a woman, he needed to earn her.  He needed to realize if he felt truthfully this desire.  This was as much for her sake as for the ghouls.  The Papa would not allow her to be hurt by anyone, that included a ghoul who could become fickle.  And Secondo was more than willing to give attention to the principessa who was as charming as he remembered and who stirred more than a little interest in himself.

“Grazie cara.  I promise to rock you…like a hurricane.”  He winked at her placing one more kiss on her pale knuckles, leaving behind two black lip prints.  He turned then, taking his staff from the ghoul.  He quickly spoke in Italian to the band ghouls, and they moved to an area away where they gathered in a circle for their pre-ritual ritual of prayer to the dark lord for a good show.

Phil stayed near Stevie, trying not to give in to the urge to throttle his Papa.  Firstly, he’d get in trouble with…well…everyone.  But also, he needed to perform tonight, and Phil didn’t want to deal with the riot that would break out if that didn’t happen.  

Stevie was still grinning at the interaction.  “He’s quite the character.”  She said, turning to Phil.

“That’s…one word.”  He replied, noticing the lip prints on her hand.  He held back another growl and then pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket.  “Here, he…left some of his face behind.”

Stevie glanced down.  “Oh, he did.  Thank you.”  She wiped away the kiss prints and handed the silky cloth back to Phil.  

“Prego.”  He replied, putting it back in his pocket.  “They will be heading on stage soon, come with me and I’ll take you to your seat for the show.”

Phil led Stevie to an area just on the other side of the curtain where there were some seats waiting.  Secondo’s trio were sitting in the back row of the six total chairs.  Phil gestured to Stevie to take her seat and he settled next to her.  From the angle they had they could see the stage slightly off to the side and part of the audience.  The crowd were excited and then the lights went off and hell broke loose to rock the beaming faces of the fans to their souls.  

Stevie was in awe of what she was seeing.  The music was amazing and felt like a living thing in her chest.  Secondo knew how to play a crowd.  He was sinister, seductive, and a showman.  

Phil watched the ritual, not even sure how many he’d been witness to in his time.  He glanced over at this guest and raised a brow behind his mask.  She was mouthing along with the lyrics, eyes shining in the limited backstage light.  Stevie was rocking back and forth in her chair to the beat and for a moment he was concerned she’d slip.  He leaned down, having to speak a little loudly.  “Enjoying the show?”  

Stevie turned in surprise, finding his mask very near to her ear.  “This is freaking fantastic!”  She grinned, eyes wide and gleaming with happiness.  She’d forgotten the bullshit from earlier in the day, the depression spiral left behind for now.  She was focusing on the performance and just letting herself enjoy it.  “Thank you so much for inviting me!”  She never did have very good control of what she called her squee level.  This was a 10 for sure.  Secondo had an amazing voice on top of it all and the ghouls were maestros with their instruments and voices as well.   She’d have kicked her own ass if she’d skipped this like an idiot.  

She reached over and gave the ghoul’s arm a squeeze.  “Really, thank you.  I…didn’t know how much I needed to just have fun.”  She said, leaning close to his ear.  

Phil felt a shudder rundown his spine directly to the end of his tail.  Her fingers on his wrist, her warm breath against his ear and her equally warm voice was making his thoughts not appropriate for public. 

Ghouls were very much physical affection creatures.  Phil hated to admit it, but it came from being considered pets to so many of the infernal kingdom’s inhabitants.  Millenia spent finding solace in packs, being used for pleasures by those that summoned them, the frequent worship orgies that would break out and the ghouls would be asked or required to join.  This added up to within his demonic DNA there being a lot of need to touch and be touched. 

He’d tamped this down over the years with a lot of concentration and focus.  It had been…a long time…since he’d had a relationship with anyone, ghoul or human.  And right then, this innocent gesture was breaking down every carefully constructed control he had within himself.

“You’re welcome, Stevie.”  He replied.  Oh Dark Lord, let me have this go well.  Don’t let me fuck this up royally.  Phil settled back into his chair as Stevie turned back to the stage.  He did not though watch the concert.  Instead he watched her watching it, a steady warmth running over his normally cool skin at her excitement and joy. 

When the concert was over after three encores (he was sure Secondo would be bringing that up constantly over the next few days)  Phil stood up and offered a hand to Stevie.  The director chairs while comfortable where not the most stable things in the world. 

“I take it that the concert met all expectations?”  He asked her.

“I would say for certain it did.  Again, I can’t thank you enough.  I can’t believe I was going to just…not go.”  Stevie’s eyes fell to the scarred black floor of the backstage.  The magic was going to be over soon, and she’d have to go home from the ball.

Phil looked at her strangely.  “Why would you not want to attend?”  He asked as he led her back towards the green room. 

She shook her head.  “It had been a long day and…well…typical depression spiral stuff I guess you’d say.” 

Phil detected an opening.  He had a feeling he knew what the depression spiral was from.  They arrived at the green room, and he was happy to see it was empty.  The band ghouls would be heading to their hotel rooms for the night and Secondo would be going to his suite after getting his paints and wardrobe changed.  They actually had a day off tomorrow as the buses needed to be tuned up so Phil had no doubt that Secondo’s suite would be party central in a couple of hours. 

“Would you like a drink?”  He asked her, “I figured your throat might be a little parched after all that whooping.” 

Stevie nodded laughing.  She had no doubt she’d have a hard time talking tomorrow.  “Coke Zero is fine.”  She replied, “Thank you.”  She flopped down on the couch.  Looking around she realized she hadn’t been alone with her host ghoul this entire time really.  It was ear ringingly quiet now with the concert over and so many people off taking down equipment or recuperating from the performance. 

Phil walked back over and handed her a cold can of soda, his own opened with a straw sticking out of it for ease of drinking in the mask.  He sat down a respectable distance away though he felt that internal need growing to be closer.  He gripped the can in his hand tightly as a thought of nuzzling her neck entered his head and he quickly punted it away.  Apparently this attraction was awakening all of those instincts he’d buried down to do his job properly over the last few decades…and they wanted to make up for lost time.

“It’s amazing that your crew is able to tear all of this down so fast.”  Stevie commented as she glanced over at Phil.  He seemed..tense?  Even if she couldn’t see his face his body seemed coiled suddenly.

“They’re fantastic at what they do.”  He worked the straw under his mask and took a welcome swig of Mello Yello.  “We’re lucky that we have tomorrow off while the tour buses are getting checked out…so it’s not the normal chaos of packing up and then driving out the same night.” 

Stevie looked surprised.  “Oh, so you all are sticking around here tomorrow?” 

Phil hoped he wasn’t imagining the tone of being pleased in her voice.  He swiveled himself to face her on the couch.  “The city is not free of us yet…and Satan help us Secondo has a suite.”  He told her.  She laughed and Phil was quickly finding that a favorite sound.  He’d heard laugher many times during his many years existing  and probably even more screams.  But Stevie’s laughter was genuine, pure, and as warm as she was. 

What no one outside of the Ministry knew was that ghouls were inherently cold.  They were cool to the touch and their bodies were simply cold-blooded.  Phil didn’t care for the way some of the clergy described it as being like a lizard…even if he did have some scales here and there.  Hell was a warm place.  It wasn’t a secret.  So ghouls taken out of that environment had to deal with the fact they were no longer in that climate.  They felt cold or chilly to many, hence the gloves and typically wearing long sleeves and jackets.  Why would they want to be warm blooded when they lived in hell? 

This was also tied to that desire for physical contact so many had.  Body heat, warmth, ghoul piles, dark lord help him, snuggling and cuddling.  Ghouls were attracted to the warmth, and he was very much a ghoul.  And right now he was having a hard time fighting the urge.     

“I do have to admit I had an ulterior motive for inviting you to the show.”  He said carefully.  He noticed immediately when her eyes widened.  “I wanted to ask you something.”

Stevie was glad she’d swallowed her sip of Coke, so she wasn’t choking at the way his voice managed to drop an octave to deliver that bit of news.  “Oh…uhm…okay?”  She placed her can on the table and turned to face him as he had done for her. 

The scent of nervousness mixed with excitement and curiosity was suddenly flooding his senses.  And he thought he caught the faint deliciousness of a sudden…arousal?  Control yourself Phil…don’t you dare scare her off. 

“I wanted to offer you a job.”  He said carefully.  “I’ve spoken with Secondo, and he agrees it would be a good fit for you and…us.”  His green eyes watched her expressions carefully. 

Stevie was shocked.  This was not what she had expected at all when she’d come to the show.  If anything she was readying herself to go back to the real world after tonight.  But here was her masked host offering her a chance to stay in Wonderland.  “I…wow…uh…what, what job?  I mean…I have a job already, but you know that.”  Oh god why are you being an idiot.

Phil nodded.  The nerves were becoming more prominent.  “Yes, I do know that.”  He placed his can on the table next to hers.  “And that’s partly what motivated this.”  Carefully he moved a scoot closer to her.  “They aren’t treating you well Stevie.  I saw this.  You told me all I needed to hear.”  He glanced away for a moment, seeing in her eyes a sort of embarrassment at the truth.  He didn’t want to make her feel bad, just the opposite.  “And in all honesty, you deserve far better than them.” 

He turned back to her.  “I want you to be the face of our press.  I want you to talk when it isn’t Secondo or one of the band.  I want you to be the other face of Ghost.  You pick who gets to talk to who…you are in control.”   Phil watched the surprise fill her eyes, her expression.  For a moment he thought he heard her heart start thundering in her chest. 

Stevie let his words sink in to her brain and she was speechless.  What he was offering was massive.  It was everything she’d ever wanted and more.  But in the back of her mind she could just see three letters.  WHY.  She took a breath, glancing down at the cushions and then back up to him.  “But…I…why?”  She finally asked him, and the words were as fragile as glass.

Phil swallowed at the sudden feeling that slipped like a needle into his chest.  His fingers gripped the back of the couch where he’d rested his arm to keep from trying to pull her into a hug.  Not appropriate right now…no…that’s a no…no hugging. 

But his other hand reached out on instinct.  He stopped it before he could caress her cheek though he wanted to so badly.  His voice was softer when he answered her.  “Because you should be seen Stevie.” 

[ghnosis]

once again paging @slavghoul

or anyone who pays close attention to Tobias Forge interviews.

is there a convenient list of influences TF has mentioned, or a ranking of albums he loves, or something along those lines?