#is this just nihilism for grown ups?

[l3rking]

I played a lot of The Division 2 this past weekend and I’m actually very pleased to say I’m having a great time. I mean it’s just tacticool destiny and while I’m no where near anything resembling endgame, seeing the build variety is very exciting.

It’s also making me reckon with the fact that…maybe I actually really LIKE Ubisoft games. Not love, just like. I had a blast with Far Cry 2-5. I loved Watch Dogs 2. The first 2 and now last 3 AC games were a lot of fun.

I think getting older has drastically changed what I look for in a game. I know what to expect from Ubi. Great world building. Solid gun play. Some light rpg elements. A lot of exploration. Outsposts, Storngholds, blah, blah, etc, etc. All things I genuinely enjoy.

I can find new experiences in indie games when I want something fresh. Idk im just vibing. Getting worked up over video games is such a teen/20s thing to do. Im too old for it. I just wanna play silly games and not think about how awful things are.

[francesderwent]

locklyle and cangel—sister ships?

[vxnuslogy]

𐙚 shelter from storms.

— how is life when you're living with the stellaron hunters.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: sunday is a stellaron hunter just trust me, these can be taken as romantic or platonic except for silver wolf, hers is purely platonic. once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners.

𐙚 KAFKA

one day brought a record player back to headquarters after a mission. she happily skipped over to you to inquire about the spare room that hasn’t been used in years. and that’s how you got roped into decorating the said room with kafka, making it her pseudo music room whenever it's her day off. 

she even convinced you to pick up the violin and practice with her. it was hard at first - you had no past experience with playing an instrument - but kafka was patient, taking her time to teach you how to properly hold the violin, how to press on the strings correctly so it doesn’t sound strained when you glide the bow over it. more often than not, you’d call it quits after an hour and a half and simply just listen to kafka play. these were the times where she became more expressive so you cherished it.

after practice she would tell you about the local music from the planet she went to for her mission. retelling in great detail how the musician played the piece, how the crowd gathered and clapped once the person finished. you can’t help but let the growing smile on your face show. kafka doesn’t show that much emotion - a big consequence of being an emanator of the nihility - but you knew deep down that kafka was kind a person, even if the universe said otherwise.

𐙚 BLADE

is the type of person that would eat whatever you offer him without question. you were quite shocked when it first happened – you had dragged him to one of the stalls on the luofu to eat a snack and when you offered him a bite, he took it. you stood frozen in your spot as blade chewed his food, muttering a soft praise for how it was cooked and started to drag you away from the stall. a certain head of white had slowly started to approach the two of you.

when silver wolf and firefly found out, they were certainly amused, the former more so than the latter. and since then, whenever you and silver wolf would practice cooking when kafka wasn’t around, you would drag blade into the kitchen and spoon feed him the food you made. you found it endearing when his voice would grow soft whenever firefly or silver wolf offered him a spoonful of food and he’d take it without hesitation. giving constructive criticism and even assisting the three of you whenever he’s feeling nice.

though you’ve learned how not to push his buttons too much. after silver wolf accidentally (it was on purpose) put sugar instead of salt in his food, you had to pull the man back by the arm so he didn’t kill the poor girl. 

𐙚 SILVER WOLF

kafka laughed under her breath as blade groaned. there you two go again, stopping your actions whenever you pass each other in the halls just to stare, then laugh, and proceed as if nothing had happened. you don’t remember when this started or how it even came to be, it just became a silly little greeting between the two of you that made blade think the two of you were insane. but then again, who wasn’t insane in this organization?

when silver wolf first became a hunter she was quite the pissy baby, sam often left her in your care, maybe that's why you always sought out each other’s presence when it's your day offs. kafka joked how the two of you must be siblings separated by birth and that led to her dragging you into her room, a whiteboard behind her and a marker perched on her ear, trying to explain how you two were actually siblings. 

she’s grown quite attached to you, always the first one to greet you when you come back from a mission and drag you to her room so you can play video games together. time spent with each other is always fun and full of laughter, you can’t help but wish time would move slower so you could spend more time with her. when kafka comes to drag you out of her room because it was 3 am and you’ve lost track of time, you can’t help but miss the girl’s laughter as you yet again, lost your combo on one of her favorite rhythm games.

𐙚 FIREFLY

ever since you joined the stellaron hunters, sam and elio have given you full reign in being their mechanic/inventor. it was a great honor and you took pleasure whenever the hunters trusted your inventions and used them in battle. the biggest downside would probably be is being in charge of cleaning sam’s armor when missions get too rough. before you, kafka would always be the one in charge of this but after your arrival, firefly seems to only want you to clean it, especially when silver wolf tried to doodle on sam’s WHITE ARMOR with pastel markers. 

your station was always filled with easygoing chatter between you and firefly. she would tell you about how her mission went, what happened, what needed to be fixed and if there were any adjustments needed to be made. you always listened with keen eagerness, pausing every once in a while at wiping off the grime and dirt on sam and writing something on the clipboard that’s always on your desk.

aeons bless this girl’s heart because she was a total sweetheart. most of the time you never get the chance to keep up with the trends among the cosmos so she took it upon herself to always keep you updated. even when she was on missions, she never fails to send you a text on the new trending fashion, makeup, and even food. speaking of makeup, you should start wrapping that set you managed to snag online. it was a thank you gift for firefly for always keeping you updated.

𐙚 SUNDAY

hesitation, regret, but quiet determination. that was your first impression of sunday when kafka entered your station with him in tow. a pair of mechanical wings to replace his broken one, kafka said before abruptly leaving. he was hesitant to let you near his wings but eventually caved after lots and lots of reassurances that it would be quick. when you finished, you kept a close eye on him whenever he practiced taking flight with it, always remembering to keep a good distance so you don’t invade his comfort zone.

wincing when sunday stumbled for the seventh time today. sweat dripping from his forehead to chin as he tried and tried again, trying to take flight again after years of chaining himself to the ground. it was painful to watch, but you can’t help but feel proud of his determination to make it work. a smile crept up to your face as you scribbled something down on your clipboard when he nearly made it. you made a mental note to reshape the wings a bit and use a different type of material so it didn’t weigh him down too much.

sunday may not show it, but he knows you’re watching from afar, he's happy you keep him company in his trying times, it makes his failures in taking flight a little more bearable. he couldn’t help but feel thankful to his hereditary genes of being able to sense the emotions of others, he just wished you could do the same. you have no idea how grateful he is that you’re taking so much of his comfort and needs into account when creating his wings. he could only offer you a small smile when he knocks at your door to announce dinner. sunday swore to take you to penacony one day when kafka mentioned you’ve always wanted to travel there.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[doublekanble]

heart

Alastor/reader (gnc)

romantic-platonic

word count: 5.5k

or, alastor is a man of many things, and you believed he can never love without hurting his love. tw: a small paragraph of al eating your heart.

1. “–I was right.”  you coughed, the more you do, the more your voice choked on itself. Your body seized and shuddered with every beat of your heart as blood spew from the wound, already giving up on getting yourself away when you can barely breathe. He wishes he could’ve made it easier for you, but he got caught up. “you really are selfish…”

As the hand he’s holding onto quickly grew cold, Alastor hoped, for all its worth, that when he fall, however long it’ll takes, you’ll find the strength to finally accept his love for you. For now, he set his left ear over your heart, his hair stained red, Alastor listened closely for what he thought was the last time, as you and your life stops entirely.

(having done this time and time again, for the first time in a long time, he felt a longing for warmth, your warmth, the one seeping from you and dissipating with the cold air in the night.)

2. If there is ever a need to described himself, then Alastor would be the first to say that he is a man of many thing.

The charming popular radio host of New Orleans, the life of the party, a bachelor second to none. He’s your friendly neighbor who greets you with a smile and a caring friend. He’s the perfect son and an amiable stranger. Everything you want, he will be. Everything, except all you ever wanted from him is someone to talk to.

You’ve always a strong fascination for writing from years gone by. From the gloomy and miserable words of a poor but astute poet, riddled with nihilism and pain, to a long-gone romanticist who wrote fairy tales and chasing love he couldn’t held in his hand, or a myth, lost to time and rewritten over and over again. All the books you ever care to curated in your home is that of the classic and the dead.

Perhaps that’s why he’d grown so attached to you and the poetry you sewn into existence with clumsy words.

With his unfortunate lot in life despite his mother’s best effort –god bless that woman, Alastor would, in time, learn how to play charade better than anyone else, barely remembering the last time he bother to show care to anyone else with love and honesty rather than bemusement. He doesn’t need moth-bitten books to guide him through conversation when he can just as easily play the role of a salesman, granting you the option to pick between a piece of stale bread or the last supper. But only a salesman in the end, his words and gestures is with all the saccharine and none of the sugar.

Although he could never hope to weaves paintings with his word, ever only a mockery of one, Alastor welcome his shortcoming in strides, as long as people bought into his act. For the love he lacks in his heart, valuable you, his treasured companion, would make up for it all.

In stark contrast to his hidden callousness, you were a much more genuine person. The books and stories you gathered throughout your short-lived life give you a means to convey the feelings that made up your whole existence. In the occasion where he manage to pick the right topic, you would choose to hastily penned out your thoughts, writings border-on obsessive as you speak of vivid strokes of emotions no single word in any language can ever hope to capture. And yet, your heart, enraptured by the scenery, frantically beat so loudly in your chest as you speak of worlds end and death departed with shared poison; it would also spoke of a love so ordinary and mundane.

You’d never mourned the Danish storyteller that chased love endlessly, simple deeming it a life worth living. He wondered if you ever regretted telling him that.

(you sing praises to the odds and the out of sort while cursing at the commonplace of life, Alastor charmed the ordinary and laugh at the macabre death brings. as long as you’re there by his side, he have no need to love anything else.)

 3. Just like everything else about you, your close proximity to Alastor is not the standard, and should always be seen as an exception.

That evening, you both got shooed away after a particularly early dinner, his mother’s only excuses was that you, the esteemed and beloved guest, already help with cooking, so it’s only natural you’ll get to spend the rest of the stay resting up. Even if the most you ever did was being so horrendous at chopping veggies, Alastor ended up taking over your load instead.

He laugh about it, saying that you’re pretending so you don’t have to do the work. His mother slapped him on the back of his head, while he nearly chop off his own fingers, she comforts you about your culinary skill. You smile at him when she turns her back on you both, knowing full well Alastor’s fighting his instinct to throw the first thing in his hand at you.

You two stand awkwardly on the porch and stare at the only available seat before Alastor argues that he did the most work so he should take the rocking chair. You point out how he’s practically whispering in the hope of his mother not noticing, he doesn’t bother to deny it.

After some mindless chatter, Alastor would suddenly joke about how if he were to ever read the same works as you, maybe he’ll be able to conceived a love so vicious and gentle too. You, sitting just by his feet, only gives him a sheepish smile. It wasn’t until before you’re at the front of his door, already bid his mother goodbye and ready to go back, that you would throw a remark at him.

“I think you’re a pretty vicious guy on your own,” you walk the three step down and continued through the front walk nonchalantly, hands in your coat pocket instead of linking with his like usual. “If you were to love someone, you’ll hurt them in the end. Even if you were to read all of my books.”

You stand at his gate. Although you’re waiting to see whether he’s going to go with you, you might as well have been gauging his reaction. Unconsciously, as he catches your gaze, he relaxed his grip and stride towards you like a panther to a sitting duck.

“You’re welcomed to, by the way. Just don’t dog-tag them.” Faint stinging shot through the heart of his hands from where his nails was digging into. His laugh sounds more like choking as he ignores your offer for now.

“Now, I wasn’t aware you have such a dreadful view of me, let alone thinking I can’t – what?” incredulously, Alastor barks “Love?! HAH!I supposed one of us are going to have to break that pathetic news to my mother.”

The moment he reach you, he catches a soft sigh falling from your lips, “It’s not that I think you can’t, Al.” the nickname that he imprinted on your frontal lobe sounded like nails on chalkboard, “It’s that I think you shouldn’t.”

“How delightful…”

You turned and began to walk on your own. If Alastor was anyone else, he would’ve taken this at face value and get offended at your eccentricity.

“And where, pray tell, does these impressions of yours come from?” He snatched your left arm, pulling it from its resting place and do the job himself. You give him a look, he smiles.

“I’ve been watching you.” His expression must’ve been something, enough for you to instantly stop on the sidewalk as you stammered and tries to pull your arm from him. “Not like that you deviant! I was just trying to get a read on you, since everyone kept talking about you being unattached and all.”

“Yes, yes, I know. What now, you want in on the chase? It’s ok dear, I know I’m utterly irresistible!” Refusing to let go of you, he only laugh on as you scowl. It’s well known to everyone that Alastor have been available for the longest time since anyone ever known him. It was also a well-kept mystery, the fact he have never courted a single person throughout his entire life.

“Utterly hogwash, that’s what you are.” Huffing to yourself, you finally would relent your arm to him. Your shared steps echoing across the darkening street, it’s near curfew. “I do have to say, I see what they meant, about you being a good spouse and all that,” He smiles a bit brighter at that, “But I just can’t see you being vulnerable with anyone else. You despises things not going your way, and love just have too much uncertainty!”

“Yes, yes,” he repeats, as if soothing you from a tantrum, “Weak and frail Alastor, the poor soot of New Orleans, unable to tear his ribcages open and show everyone his organs the same way his beloved whimsical friend here does every day ~.” You hiss as he settled his own weight against you with his head on your shoulder, nearly knocking the both onto the ground, “I guess you’ll just have to be with me for the rest of your life then! If you don’t, I’ll simply drown in my own piled up misery! What a life it’ll be!”

“Sure you will. Now get off and take me back home you dramatic coot.”

4. At that time, there was no need for Alastor to inquire your meaning of “vicious”.

In direct contrast to your trusting nature, you’re also perceptive and doubtful to a fault. The first slight of your tongue was a comment on how he can stop smiling around you. Always with that same gaze as you have now, lying underneath him. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he said to you that day. But it was enough for you to stood up and walked from the table with a ten-dollar bill pin under your half-finished lemon tea. The issue was quickly resolved with a phone call to your home, but he quickly learned that you don’t take kindly to – and quite frankly, refused to participate in – saccharine sweet insult.

But at what point did he stop hiding himself and let you read him freely, he thought. If he bit down on his tongue until he bleeds and shut you out like how he did to so many others who couldn’t even take one step near him, then maybe something could’ve turn out differently.

Replaying that moment over and over in his head, for the first time in his life, Alastor think about the concept of love, really think about it. It simply was an aspect of life that he never pay mind to, equating it with romance book and kissing under starry skies, and thus, utterly useless. When he think of love, all he have to go off of is his dear old mother, who sacrifices and suffers so much for him, which, in time, he pay her back with everything he have. His life was only about her and himself and the bodies under the forest floor and it was everything he wanted and more. Until one rainy day, with his eyes on the script he’s writing out for tomorrow’s broadcast, bleary-eyed and hearing the bed calling his name, he thought about you.

When he came to, he already dropped his coffee cup. The brown liquid burns, even through his slipper.

After that, Alastor would start picking out books from your carefully curated shelves, sitting in your armchair and skims through the lines while you spread across the ground like an old cat, he tried to find the feelings that you described to him in the same page you’d read a million times and over. But as he does so, he would soon find that there’s not a single word in any of those old and yellowed pages of yours that is able to captured the quickly spreading rot in his heart. In a frenzied, Alastor would burn through your small library faster than you could ever hope for.

(Alastor knows that time and time, again and again, as long as you’re willing to reach for his hand, he will never let go of yours.

at some point, he’d stop caring about whether you’re willing to at all. why would he, when the meaning of being able to love you became all he care to know at all.)

5.

“You don’t need to love like I do, you know that, right?”

He turns to you, on your stomach, lying in your nest of blankets and pillows with a pencil in hand putting down incomprehensible charcoal shape.

“Bragging now, are we?” he gets up from the armchair and settled down by your side, eyes watching your hand while propping the book he was reading in his lap. You crank your neck and stare at him with a look, “And how are you so sure I want to love like you, dear?”

“You’ve been plowing through my books.”

He sends you a beaming smile, acting innocent while playing with your hair.

“You offered.”

“Aren’t they all the one I told you about?”

Your eyes on the book he’s holding, then the one he just placed back into the shelves. It feels like he’s back in his mother’s kitchen, with his dirty nails behind his back and a poor excuse for the missing bread on the dinner table. Except this time, there’s just you and him in your small living room, and you’re looking awfully smug about it.

Raising his hand in the air, he sigh pitifully, “Ah~, guilty as charged, darling.” and offers nothing else. The silence afterward is enough of a white flag anyway.

Pleased with what you got from him, you turn back to your work, seemingly unaware (or even worse, maybe you don’t care at all) about the gnawing in his chest and the storm raging in his head while his hand weaves through your hair.

The last time you talked to him about love, you more-or-less called him and his love hazardous. While Alastor have no trouble with accepting it from anyone else, with you, it feels as if you’re discarding a part of him to the dogs. Although his knowledge on many topics far exceeds yours, when it came to pure and genuine emotions from the heart, you’d know enough to examine him under all type of love there is, and time after time you’d deemed him impossible to ever love. And despite knowing loving and love is wholly separate, it tears him open to even considers that you’d thought of him as unable to love and be loved and something about it is just so incredibly agonizing to the point of wanting to rip you open so you can see just how unlovable you are too.

But in your living room, sitting right next to you the way no one else is allowed to. He sigh, making sure his words doesn’t come off as unpleasant as he feels.

“If I don’t have to love like you, then how do you supposed I should be doing it?”

“I’m not sure, but hopefully not at all.” You said offhandedly, but you might as well just drove a knife through his stomach, but it’s you, so he let it be, “If you can’t help yourself though, you’ll probably do something really horrible.”

“What do you supposed I’ll do?”

You turn to him, a hint of surprise in your eyes at how close he is now, but you let him be, “Undecided. But you seems like the type to let it eats you alive.”

“I’ll let my love eats me?” Laughing in disbelief, he could almost call you cute with how you nodded to yourself, resolute in your idea about him.

“You’ll let it eats you, yes.”

Alastor chuckled to himself as he tap your sketchbook twice, you hand it to him.

“Well, I’ll need to make sure that I won’t be alone, aren’t I?”

You laugh openly and said that’s true, he’s too selfish to be taken alone. Alastor couldn’t care about how much of that was just more of your usual jest and how much of it is your view of who he is. If you, who love so selflessly and readily, agrees without push back, that someone as selfish as him will doomed whoever it is that he loves so much, then who is he to deny.

At that time, the line of charcoal you put onto the paper come together to show a shadow of a small man dragging a coat by his unseen feet, a mock-up from one of the stories that you loved. Alastor stop wondering if he ever could love something like the poems and stories you’ve read a million times over, instead, he think it’s best if he loves the way you expected him to, the way he can see himself doing.

6. To be loved is to be changed.

You told him this while he stand in your kitchen, trying to shoo you back to the table so he can work without fuzzing over you. And now, while he’s holding you, so cold and so unlike you, Alastor wondered whether you would like it if your bones were to be buried in the same spot as the others.

As much as he’d love to keep it near with him, there’s not a single excuse in the whole round earth that can ever help him convinced his mother of letting him uprooted the garden out back and buried you down there, neither can he bring you with him everywhere. Alastor wants to try taking you to the morgue after he’s done, but how do you explain bringing in a set of skeleton with missing ribs? It’s simple, really.

You don’t.

He lifted you up in his arms and sat back on his sofa, your lulling head settled just below his chin, wanted to savor what’s left of you for just a bit more before rigor mortis sets in and makes you even less of what you are now. The gramophone in the corner of his room spewed utter nonsense as Alastor closes his eyes.

It’s Tuesday tomorrow, but he will have to roll up his sleeves and get to work on cleaning out one of the guest room in his hunting lodge if he doesn’t want the ants to take you first. He’ll have to call in sick, too. Alastor likes to think that when he sees you again, you’ll at least have the will to appreciate the troubles he went through for you and not complaint about being locked up inside. You and the love you have for him, akin to small river, a gentle stream, with orange and yellow leaves floating across, tucked in a forest somewhere. It widdled down the rocks and carved a path for itself. The same one that you oh so heartlessly withheld from Alastor.

You'd appreciate being bury in such a scenery, it’s a shame you won’t be, though your body would’ve made way for the prettiest flowers. But you’ll have to take what he can afford to give. To be loved is to be changed, after all.

(when, not if. having gone on for this long, he’s sure that you’re suspended in between life and death in the hell you refuses to ever believe in. half of him prayed that there’s not a river there so you can drown yourself in it just to forget all about him. the other half prayed you’ll remember nothing at all, even of the literature you love so much.

at some point, where will you stop being yourself? when you forget enough of yourself? Alastor doesn’t need to care about the semantics. he knows he’ll choose you time and again, even if you forget how you love.)

7. You take your time reading through farewell letters.

Unless the cats and dogs on the street can write, then there’s only a few, you kept a significantly smaller number of friends by your side. But it must’ve been hard to even focus with Alastor sitting right next to you.

“Darling, surely we can-“

“Please don’t make this any harder than it already was, Alastor.”

Desperately holding onto your wrist and halted your pace for just a second, he all but plead a hopeless case.

“You’re not thinking straight! Are you really just going to up and leave because someone told you so? After living your whole life here?!”

Your hand, moving like clockwork, already finished with the letters, refusing to stay in his. You pulled back from him and place the rest of the letters in a small wooden box with a deer carved on its lid. “You know it’s not just that.”

In times like these, he wonders if it was himself who have gone mad. As if the whole world is in on one big joke and you are just following along with it. Any moment now, you’ll burst into laughter and tell him that everything is a lie. You’re not moving to Washington to help a friend you know for some years with their business, and you’re not leaving him, not after everything he showed you. But you’re holding onto the letter with his mother’s name written on the front with misty eyes as if you have no other choice. So he held you by the shoulders to the point digging his nails into it and turned you to look at him.

“Then what else is there?! For Christ sakes-“ you look as if this is the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do in your life, he felt as if this is the hardest battle he have to fight, “Please, mon Chéri, talk to me...”

Alastor collapse onto you, his whole weight pins you down on your small couch. Head on your chest, he listens as your heart beats just a bit faster. You let him.

“…what do you think we are, Alastor?”

Without hesitation, he reply.

“We are whatever you want us to be. Whatever it takes for you to stay.”

For someone like you, a romantic at heart, just like who he is now, that should’ve been enough for you to at least considers the possibility of forgetting about what’s right and wrong. For sure, it would’ve been enough for you to stay, if you were anyone else.

But you’re you, and he’s only himself. The romantic in you see through his act for the longest time and still fall in love with him, but just like how your love is selfless and kind, it’s also viciously rational. If you were anyone else, you would’ve ignored the rational part of yours.

“I’m sorry, Alastor.” All this time, he was desperately proving himself to you. Doing everything in his power just so you’re willing to forget your rationale and love him just as much as he loves you. “We’ll die loving each other.”

He doesn’t care if he die, Alastor wants to scream out. He’s ready to die to love you, he have been screaming out all this time. But despite all of his effort, you deemed him a love not worth chasing after till death, while he already planned the path to hell with you.

Your fingers, shaky and gentle, brush through his hair. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t have to place himself bare and vulnerable like this. But if you were anyone else, he wouldn’t have love you at all. And if it’s death holding you back from loving him, then so be it.

8. For a long time now, Alastor knows you more than anyone else.

You were never a dancer, not by choice either. Its pathetic in the cutest way, how you froze up and refused to move, the way you stutters and try to pull from him only ever makes him want to bully you more. But from the way your brows draws together, to the way you’d tripped over yourself chasing after his footstep, all of it, Alastor earned from you.

From the way you stayed up overnight, to how the bottom of your shoes dragged against the pavement as you walk. From the tip of your pencil, to the bottom of your bookshelves. Every books on your shelves and every sketches. Alastor swear with all his life that no one else knows better than him when it came to you.

He knows intimately the curves you’d penned on your signatures; he knows how you’d change your mind at a moment notice about anything, he knows how you take with you small things on the side of the road that you deemed pretty enough and he knows you still have a lot you want to do here that you’ve told your lovely friend. So it’s only normal for Alastor, the person you grown to love so much, to know exactly why you refuses to even considers being by his side, and it’s just his luck that he also knows just how to write a letter with words just like yours.

So when was it that you got a friend you trusted so wholeheartedly, so faithfully, so much so, you’re your dearly cherished Alastor became a second thought in your mind? Weren’t you a romantic? Weren’t romantics idiots who can’t think straight when it come to love? So why was it that you alone refuses to let yourself love him and remained so loyal to someone you only considered a friend, someone who couldn’t even tell your lettering from his? Was it them? Who fed you lies after lies to captured you in their own hands? Was it them who taught you the telling and sign of a madman? Is that why your view of him was so horrible, you' refused to ever fathom life with him?

He knows you would’ve hated him for this, but Alastor adores you, and sometimes you just don’t know what’s best for you, even when it’s staring at you from across the front walk and following you to your home.

So if someone as rational as you can be swayed back to his lodge for just one more visit, then your friend surely can be swayed too, to come and visit you some other time, down here in your beloved New Orleans.

9. If anyone ever ask anyone else, then they will say that Alastor, beloved local radio host of New Orleans, is a man of many things. But if they were to ask you, then he’s one of the person you cherished the most, and your dearest friend.

He’s everything, the charming popular radio host of New Orleans, the life of the party, a bachelor that’s second to none. Alastor plays himself as your friendly neighbor who will always greets you with a smile and a clenched fist behind his back, hiding a stain just on the cuff of his sleeve in the early morning, a caring friend that offers you help just in the nick of time. Alastor is his mother’s perfect son, who spent more time comforting her about your whereabouts than to care for his own fracturing mind; an amiable stranger, gripping the newspaper detailing yet another disappearance with a bit too much force. Everything you have ever wanted him to be, he was. And yet, to his utter bewilderment and maddening grief, you refused to let him be anyone other than a friend you talked to about everything.

In the letters you saved from your beloved pen pal-turn-missing person, they would call you mature and wise. Sentimental words and kind, to his eyes, all are but hollowed gestures advising, agreeing, and offering you a place up in Washington until you can forget all about him and move on with your life, leaving Alastor to be nothing more than a nostalgic blot on the tablecloth, nothing more than yearning in early Junes. Until you forget the fact you ever love him at all, all because you decided that you couldn’t afford to let yourself be love by him.

Keeping all of it in mind, Alastor decides your dear friend should be bury far away from the comfort of your room. Three years, seven months and eleven days after your death, Alastor dragged a body into the woods. Not just any old one like usual, but not anything else too special.

It’s odd, even though you’ve been gone for the more than a year by now, it’s almost as if you’ve neve left his side. Maybe it’s the rest of you, lying peacefully in your nest of pillows and blankets, in your room that he diligently maintain. Maybe it’s your shared books he sometimes takes from his shelves and skims through in the dead of night after a hard day. Maybe it’s the locked box, sitting by his work desk welcoming him home after a night out, the same one he held in his hands, void of blood and anything else.

Or maybe it’s the reverberating sounds of heartbeat, so unlike his own. In both his waking days, in his reveries, over the sounds of the jazz band down in his favorite speakeasy and following him into the woods. Ever so silently, oh-so gently, utterly viciously in his left ear.

In any other case, Alastor finds he absolutely adores the idea of your ghost haunting him until his fell into his grave.

(you said that he should never love because he couldn’t be in control. he mourn the fact you never even let him prove you wrong. Alastor would’ve let you dance on his rotting corpse if that’s what it takes for you to let him call you his.)

10.

Somewhere in his heart, Alastor had hoped that you of all people can evade the hand of rots.

It’s a genuine shame that in the end, all of the words in the world will do nothing to stop you from sharing the lot with the others, he thought, staring down from where he straddled you with his hand peeling off layers of skins and fat. Warm fingers brushes against your hollowed cheek, before raising a small hammer and bringing down onto your bare chest. Alastor wants to preserve you for as long as possible, but to do that properly, he might as well take all of your innards out and sewn you up. It’s not that he’s not open to that idea, Alastor love every part of you. It’s just that he’s sure you’ll be extremely upset when you find out. So he’ll have to get comfortable with doing things the hard way, no matter how hard it is to do so.

With steady fingers in spite of the drumming in his ears, Alastor patiently picks out every pieces of bones he could, placing them into a small, wooden box. With a wistful smile, he closes the lid and set it aside. He miss you already.

Pushing your lungs out of the way, he dig his hands in. With blood runs up to his wrist, Alastor tries to be as gentle as he can while pulling your heart out. One hand holding onto it, another carefully cutting away everything that ties it to your body.

Distinctly, every part of you was always warm, and over time, Alastor, who’s hands are as cold as winter itself, find comfort in your touch. It was almost like you were made just for him, and him, you. And now, with your heart, cold and silent in his hand, Alastor realized what a miserable life it will be to go on living without your warmth with him from now on until he’s six feet under. But it’s ok, he’s sure of it, because above all else, what he’s been chasing after this whole time is in his hand.

For a brief moment, Alastor wondered if he were to meet you in another lifetime, one where you aren’t so complicated and so in love with the idea of living a fair life and a right love, would you have let yourself be wrong and love him. But he’s glad that your love, with all its beautiful intricacies that causes him this much pain, with a wound in it, still look as beautiful as he hoped.

Sinking his teeth into it, into you, the taste of iron and metallic flooded his mouth and drown his senses as he closed his eyes shut and nearly buckled under the taste of you. There’s not a single word in the book to describe the visceral sensations running through his blood and spreading through his every veins. Alastor shivers, the back of his head felt numb, his fever grows as he desperately takes his time and savor you. It’s a shame you can’t last forever, but he’ll take what he can get for now.

(as his teeth tears into your veins, he hears a sounds, so familiar, somewhere in the corner of his ears. it wasn’t until he caught his own heart beating that he realized that the rhythm he’s hearing isn’t his at all.

until the day you two can meet again, until then. he pray he will never forget the sounds of your heart, beating so gently.)

[ghulehunknown]

Papa Headcanons - Valentine’s Day 💕

Rated PG-13 for implied adult themes!

Oh my goodness, it’s Valentine’s Day! How will your beloved celebrate with you?

~💘💝💘~

Primo

Gives you a beautiful bouquet of roses grown in his garden

Surprises you with herbal tea in bed while he makes you breakfast

He arranges for everyone in the Ministry to send a secret valentine to an assigned person, so you all get a cute card or treat

He’s surprisingly very into theming so he wears a red robe and mitre that day, and eats lots of pink foods

He gives everyone a single flower, even his least favorite ghoul

Says he has a nice surprise for you later; lit candles everywhere, your favorite snacks, a bubble bath, and some lingerie for…certain activities after you relax 🛁

Secondo

Also surprises you with breakfast in bed, complete with one of those silver covers that he flourishes as if you just got fancy room service

Packs your lunch for you that day with a cute little note which you proceed to keep in your wallet for a long time

He relieves you of your Sibling job duties a few hours early and arranges for you to have a massage done by the Ministry’s massage therapist

He arranges Valentines karaoke for the ghouls and siblings, the setlist being rock’s greatest love ballads and also some Celine Dion mixed in

Bakes you a cake (or whatever your fave dessert is) and decorates it with pink heart sprinkles

His final gift of the day is flowers with some very nice jewelry…and also a new lingerie set. He wants to see you in the set wearing the new jewelry he got you, saying it’s a gift for him too and he wants to admire it

Terzo

His penis. He gives you…his penis, wrapped in a bow. “Breakfast in bed, mm?” he’d say (don’t worry, he offers to go down on you too)

Okay, okay, he actually comes back with coffee, cigarettes, and Pop-Tarts

Has flowers sent to you while you’re both at work so you’ll think of him all day (so all your coworkers/the other Siblings see what an amazing boyfriend you have)

Encourages everyone to leave work early that day so “you can all go fuck each other!”

Orders sushi takeout (or whatever you want if you don’t like sushi but author happens to love it) and has made a whole setup of pillows and blankets on the floor for you to watch cute movies while you eat dinner and snacks

Gives you naughty conversation hearts and says you have to do whatever it tells you to…they’re instructions for bedding you later

Scatters rose petals all over the bedroom, lights candles so the room looks very romantic and promises to make love to you like never before

Copia

You wake up to utter chaos - a burning smell from the kitchen and rats running all over the place. “Eh, it was supposed to be a surprise…we’ll get takeout.”

But you’ve already DoorDashed pancakes for the pair of you, because somehow you knew he’d be too stressed to handle everything

He’s genuinely very excited to celebrate Valentine’s Day so he can go all out to show you just how much he cares about you

He decorates his office and room the day before - all pinks, reds, and purples with hearts everywhere

He gifts everyone in the Ministry a cute little paper valentine, like the kind you used to pass out in elementary school

Says cheesy but sweet things all day, like asking you to be his valentine, making puns like “bee mine buzzzzzz,” etc.

Smothers you in hugs and kisses

Wants to watch rom coms with you before going to bed that night, complete with themed snacks

He bought you matching V-Day underwear

Nihil

Gets you one of those generic heart shaped chocolate boxes from the drug store

He also leaves a very mushy, sentimental hallmark card on your nightstand

“Why do we need a special day? I love you everyday!”

He doesn’t arrange anything for the Ministry as a whole but he does make sure to do the bare minimum for his partner

[megaderping]

Adachi is such an interesting character because I think a lot of his worst kinds of fans are the type who like... see themselves in him and thinks that's a good thing and who talk about how he was right, but that absolutely doesn't sum up every person who likes him, and I think that's something that people forget in the greater fan discourse. Adachi is meant to represent a lot of things to Persona 4's narrative. He is a byproduct of many toxic aspects of Japanese work culture. The idea that hard work will get you a stable life with a good job and a steady future. Adachi internalized this, and yet he got sent to this hick town with nothing to do over one escape. His refusal to form meaningful connections with others in favor of nihilism and a desire to just watch the world burn is meant to be a cautionary tale. If you see yourself in Adachi, the game asks you to reflect and consider that there are still things worth living for. It's also a lesson he ultimately gets. He is the one who urges the Investigation Team to pursue the real truth, and his arc in Ultimax is great because while he's still not a great person, he also has grown enough that even if he's still mean as shit, he entrusts the future to Yu and the Investigation. He just wants to go back to jail, play by the rules, and face justice, whatever form it takes, and instead he's dragged into more supernatural bullshit and has to deal with Sho. He's forced to confront who he was in the past, and he hates what he sees, and he hates that Sho is assuming the exact same kinda mindset that got his ass kicked in the end. And all of this is fantastic, but then I look at the kinda fans who talk up Adachi as if he's this great person and use him as a means to shit on fans of, say, Akechi without even trying to understand the cultural context or distinctly different role he plays in his narrative. It's not good to strawman Adachi or Akechi fans and the weird beef between the audiences of both characters annoys the shit out of me because they both have their own meanings and critiques of Japanese culture. And, y'know, people can like different characters for different reasons. I feel like a lot of this could be resolved if people were just polite and more open to discussion instead of making assumptions about why people like certain characters. Because Adachi's misogyny is definitely reflected in a lot of the kinds of fans who will actively shit on the female characters and female Persona fans, but I've met some genuinely kind fans of the character who just find him compelling for the disaster that he is and the interesting role he works as a foil to the Investigation Team. You never know why a character is someone's fav until you talk to them, and aggression doesn't help facilitate good discussions. Idk. Just a random thought, I guess.

[t4tstarrailing]

avenhill headcanons

man they're just gestures wildly so boring and domestic to me it's great. I get that feeling about a lot of boothill ships I like (bootheng, bootllum)

two deeply traumatized guys traumatized by the same organization.

in a relationship where people just. really do not know if they're together or not. yeah they're physically affectionate with each other, but they're not necessarily kissing or hugging. it's moreso them sitting together, boothill throwing his arm around aventurine's shoulders while he's doing something. are they qpr? are they romantic? no one really knows, but everyone just knows they're good for each other

rancher au where, following penacony and learning about the Avgins, boothill takes aventurine and fucks off to a planet where he can just ranch and keep a house for the rest of his life. no expectations, whatever he wants, whatever he needs. just freedom, whatever that looks like to him

sometimes aventurine describes him as a "weird fucked up cat" because of all the weird shit he steals for him and drops off with no explanation. sometimes it'll be expensive whiskey, sometimes a massive block of cheese.

both have the "I need to make you food" love language with each other. which, is great! because no one goes unfed. however, this has resulted in arguments and some pouty grown ass men upset that they can't make food for the other. and it has resulted in some weird standoffs about who is making food that night.

slowly they've come to an agreement how relationship balances. boothill makes breakfast since aventurine isn't a morning person and is barely functioning when he wakes up. aventurine makes supper and helps boothill with basic nightly body maintenance. boothill is also fiddling with a project that he hand makes for aventurine almost all the time. there's never a shortage of little knick knacks around the ranch house.

after his deep in the nihility abyss, aventurine lost a lot of weight. so after a few months of being with boothill and away from that situation, he finally started putting weight back on. which resulted in him getting his baby face back and boothill getting the worst cute aggression over it. seriously, he can't stop himself from holding aventurine's face and smooching his cheek, fighting the urge to take a small chomp.

aventurine is a back sleeper. boothill is a stomach sleeper. boothill makes a very nice weighted, heated blanket and white noise machine for aventurine. and boothill's hair is very fun for aventurine to play with when he's struggling with insomnia or nightmares.

sex life is almost non-existent and they're fine with it. very low sex drive, and honestly they'll only have sex like once or twice a month. most of the time it's just catching up, chatting, seeing how each other are, where they are mentally and emotionally.

they are, however, having nightly phone calls or FaceTime sessions if reception allows it. aventurine usually falls asleep on the call while boothill hangs up after he hears aventurine snoring. it's not unusual for aventurine's phone to be at 10 percent when he wakes up.

dates look like finding a pretty place and camping out for the night. getting a nice cigarette to light, maybe a joint, most definitely some whiskey. boothill quietly playing a song on his guitar while aventurine watches the stars. aventurine resting his head on boothill's shoulder and dozing off

mlm pride dividers by @/cafekitsune

[ghoulettalie]

MAJOR RITE HERE RITE NOW SPOILERS!!

OK SO I SAW RITE HERE RITE NOW LAST NIGHT WITH MY GHESTIE AND I’M STILL TRYING TO WRAP MY HEAD AROUND IT ALL…

(This is gonna be really random things I have on my mind lol)

YOUSUCK (I CANT THEYRE SO FUNNY)

THE GHOULETTES’ VOCALS THE ENTIRE LIVE PERFORMANCE LITERALLY ATE OMG THEY WERE INCREDIBLE

THEM PREPPING FOR COPIA TO DIE THE ENTIRE TIME LITERALLY HAD ME AND GHESTIE GRIPPING EACH OTHERS’ HANDS - LIKE WE WERE NOT OK

BUT HE DIDNT - HE IS NOW FATHER IMPERATOR AND HE HAS A TWIN??????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Literally GAGGED.

Frater Copia my beloved he’s gonna run the clergy so well mwah mwah my baby is all grown up🥺🐀

There’s a part of me that thinks the twin is Terzo LMAOOO I know that’s like impossible and silly but I’m delusional and I miss Terzo

Speaking of Terzo I thought they’d show the ghosts of primo, secondo and Terzo but I guess not :(

If you have ghosts performance…Screaming.

The creepy twins from before are dead??!! I wonder what happened?

They have a new remodelled ministry! I hope we see more of it in future Chapters…More in depth scenes to come?!?!

Papa Nihil farting in the box I can’t 💀

Speaking of Nihil - him acknowledging that he’s Copia’s father and Copia calling him dad…. 😭🥺

“Congratulations you just became a father” SEESTOR ATE THAT.

THE SCOOBY DOO CHASE SCENE.

Copia crying literally almost made me tear up can I hug him please 😭

DRACOPIA MADE AN APPEARANCE I’M SO HAPPY

COPIA STEPPING OFF THE STEPS DRAMATICALLY LITERALLY HAD ME AT THE EDGE OF MY SEAT

LIKE GHESTIE NO GET BACK

But he didn’t die, HE ENDED UP ON A HOT AIR BALLOON IN SPACE GIRL WHAT

at the time I didn’t think this but I guess he was hallucinating that

And then seestor died so 😅

RIP SEESTOR - you absolute queen even tho u were complicit in the deaths of Terzo and Secondo and Primo…. But you let Copia live so I forgive you a little bit

Just anytime Rain/Dewdrop were on screen I was SAT.

They live in my mind rent free

The fact that the concert was good quality as well like yes let me thirst over the ghouls yum 😵‍💫🫡🛐

Okay I think this is all but let me know your thoughts and/or theories!!

Btw my inbox is open!

Oh and me and my ghestie brought a fake rat we named Ratalie (I’ll insert pics later) 🐀 We couldn’t NOT bring her like we did this for Copia✨❤️

[heartrender6]

lord of the flies gotta be my favorite classic literature and also one of the most widely misinterpreted pieces of literature in history. no that book is not about how man's savage desire for blood lies just beneath the surface and it is not about how all humans are inherently evil. it's about how the education system (specifically british) fails our children and how boys in our society are bred and raised to be violent and romanticize warfare. it's about how society takes happy innocent children and turns them into monsters. it's also an allegory for growing up--- being suddenly thrown into a world with no grown-ups to look out for you, where you're allowed to be a kid anymore. it's about losing your innocence. get your nihilism out of my face

[honeyynymphh]

| The Mark of the Beast |

Cardinal Copia x Fem!Reader rating: E chapter word count: 3k total word count: 5k chapter 1 of 2 tags/warnings: dom copia, he's a dickhead, humiliation, inappropriate touching, abuse of authority, hair pulling

An imposter has apparently been hiding in the abbey, and there is only one way to prove you're part of the congregation. And that is to submit yourself to an examination to find Lucifer's mark upon your body.

read on ao3

I sat just outside Sister Imperator’s office, patiently—or not so patiently waiting for my turn. I was last and had spent the entire day on edge, unable to pay attention to my chores or lessons. Nobody had really been able to pay attention, not since this morning’s sermon. And it hadn’t really been a proper one. Papa Terzo had been interrupted halfway through by Sister Imperator, who had rushed in late—a disturbing thing in its own right. Sister Imperator was never late!

Her hurried and whispered words with Papa had left the rest of us whispering in the pews until Papa had turned to face us, looking confused. He had told us we all needed to submit to an inspection—apparently, an imposter was amongst us. Spreading falsehoods and lies about our Dark Father. The whispers had grown even louder then.

Over the next few days, we were all to submit for an examination to confirm that we were all truly siblings of this abbey. And the only way to prove that was for our bodies to be stripped and searched for a mark—the mark of the beast. A mark bestowed upon our skin when we had pledged ourselves to Lucifer. My stomach had twisted just as my hands in my lap did now.

Some of my other sisters had proudly shown me theirs. I had not been a sibling for very long and I had heard a few remarks about them but nobody had ever said that everyone had one! I thought it was something only the higher clergy were gifted with. Last night, I had twisted myself in circles like a dog chasing its tail trying to find some mark upon my body. Anytime I had spotted a blemish I had felt a momentary rush of relief only to realise it was simply another freckle. I had asked Sister Rosaline, whom I shared my room with to check me over and she had found nothing. Her suspicious eyes and cold voice had made me reluctant to ask anyone else.

Would they throw me out? I knew in my heart I was no imposter, and I had taken my vows. But still, my heart was gripped with dread.

The door was suddenly opened and another Sister walked out, giving me a smile before she skipped in the direction of the papal suites. A ghoul followed, not even glancing at me before it slunk down the halls. Sister Imperator soon followed but before she could hurry out her eyes fell on me.

“Sister!” she said, raising a hand to her forehead in surprise. “I thought Sophia was the last one today.” She sighed. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting but I must go speak with Papa Nihil urgently.”

I tried not to let it get to me. “Should I return tomorrow morning?” I asked as I stood up. 

I did not want to wait a whole night for my fate to be decided, I was anxious enough as it was. This whole ordeal needed to be over!

The older woman shook her head. “No, no, no.” She looked across the hall at a closed door. “Cardinal Copia can check you, we have too many siblings to get through and I want this dealt with quickly.”

“Cardinal?” I squeaked out. I did not want that man anywhere near me. He was terrifying. And I certainly did not want him to see me naked! “But, Sister, I would much rather it be you.”

While the smile she gave me was kind, she was clearly tired and I could tell she had better things to worry about than my embarrassment. 

“Dear, he’s very efficient,” she said, giving me another smile. “You’ll be fine.”

“Or Papa?” I asked. “Can he not check me?”

Sister snorted. “Ha. No. This is not an excuse for Terzo to fuck the entire congregation. We would be here until spring if that were the case.” She gave me a quick little pat on the shoulder and then prodded me in the direction of the Cardinal’s office door. “Cardinal Copia is a professional. And he has finished with everyone else.”

I went to open my mouth to protest but she was already waving me off and hurrying down the halls, her shoes clicking behind her. I stared at his office door. Maybe I could just go back to my room, but I knew it was pointless. I had to be checked and I didn’t want to disappoint Sister Imperator—or have her think I was silly. If it had been Papa Nihil I think I would have been less hesitant. I shuddered at the thought.

I had only ever been in Cardinal Copia’s office once before. It had been when I had first joined the abbey and was a fresh-faced novitiate. He had been talking of rituals—explicit ones—and I had been unable to stop fidgeting in my seat, unable to really concentrate. I had been sitting so far back I do not know how he had noticed me, but he had. And the Cardinal had requested to see me after dinner that night in his office. The old church I’d left behind had instilled in me a sense of shame that had been hard to ignore during those early days—especially when my thoughts would turn to the more lustful. Whenever the Cardinal would speak, I hadn’t been able to control the way I would press my thighs together. I didn’t really care what he spoke of, only that he did. But when he spoke of rituals out there on the sacred grounds, bodies naked in praise of Lucifer, how was I supposed to concentrate? I had never heard such lascivious talk before, and certainly not from a man wearing a cassock!

I didn’t know what I had expected when I had arrived in his office, but having the back of my hands struck with a ruler had not been it.

Lack of discipline, he had told me. I should pay attention and not fidget during lessons. It had been mortifying. But not because he had struck me like an errant child but because it had made my mind immediately think of being bent over the desk and him striking my backside. I never wanted to go into his office again.

That was a lie. I did. But he couldn’t know that. I had witnessed a few hopeful siblings sidle up to him after an impressive sermon, surely emboldened by his passionate words and that wicked look he would get in those mismatched eyes. All of them had been turned away with a snide remark. I had no desire to be mocked or to embarrass myself in front of a high member of the clergy. So I didn’t dare approach him. 

I knocked on the door politely until I heard the sharp command to enter. I did so, letting the door shut softly behind me. The Cardinal was at his desk, bent over some document and scribbling furiously. I stood there awkwardly for a moment before I cleared my throat.

“Cardinal—“

He held up a hand for my silence but did not look up. I bristled but kept my mouth shut, hoping he would finish quickly.

I glanced around the office. It was very much like Sister Imperator’s office with dark wooden panelling and numerous shelves full of books and other odd trinkets. But the Cardinal’s space had a ridged neatness about it, I felt sympathy for the maid who had to clean in here. I suspected he was rather pedantic about everything. My eyes continued to roam until they fell on a high wooden stool off to the side. It looked out of place compared to the Cardinal’s high wingback chair and the hard uncomfortable chair that sat in front of his massive desk—I suspected this was a deliberate choice in an effort to discourage others from staying long. When my eyes fell back to his desk, the Cardinal was placing his fountain pen away and finally acknowledging me with a raised brow, gloved hands folded in front of him on the desk.

“Sister,” he said, “what do you want?”

“Sister Imperator was meant to see me—for my mark,” I said quickly. “But she was called out urgently. She said I could see you instead.”

The man regarded me a moment before he let out a suffering sigh and waved a gloved hand at me.

“Si, si.” He stood, his grucifix clinking against the many buttons of his black cassock. 

It was then I realised he had already removed his biretta. I’d so rarely seen him without it when he was wearing the regular clergy attire. The soft lamplight made his hair look like burnished wood and I could see the greying strands at his temples. I clasped my hands in front of me and tried to not think of how it would feel to run my fingers through it.

He moved around the desk and past me, leaving a trail of heavy incense and leather in his wake. There was a scrape and I turned to watch him grab the stool and place it before his desk.

“Do you know if you have one?” he asked in a bored voice but then he smirked. “Unless you wish to confess to being a virtuous little idolator now?”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t find one but I’m no imposter, Cardinal.”

“We shall see.” He pointed at the stool. “Take off your clothes and sit.”

I stood there stunned by his brash attitude. He scowled at me impatiently.

“Hurry up, girl.” He waved a hand at me impatiently. “I do not want to be here all day.”

I quickly stepped out of my shoes, taking my veil off as I did. I angled my body away from him ever so slightly, not wishing to look at him, though I could feel his eyes on me. The skin on the back of my neck prickled and a shaky breath escaped my lips. I undid the top few buttons of my habit before unceremoniously tugging it over my head. It was nothing, I told myself. Many people had seen me naked since my time at the abbey, I had become more comfortable over time. But still…it had never been in front of Cardinal Copia. I folded my dress over the nearby armchair with my veil before I moved to sit on the stool but his words stopped me.

“Dai!” he snapped, coming towards me and pulling up my bra strap so that it flicked down hard against my shoulder. “The rest of it as well.”

“What?” I said, shocked.

“Remove the rest of your clothes,” he repeated, voice tinged with irritation. “Satana salvami dalle bambine stupide…”

While I didn’t speak Italian, I didn’t need to in order to guess what “stupide” meant. But I wasn’t going to sulk, I just wanted it over and done with. Ignoring the embarrassment already welling somewhere in my chest, I took a deep breath and undid the clasp of my bra, grateful that my fingers didn’t fumble with them. The flush of humiliation was rising up my neck and I could feel it suffusing my cheeks. It’s just like a medical exam, I told myself. A very strange one. I glanced at the Cardinal and he was staring at me with a blank expression. I couldn’t just stand here forever so I decided to just treat it like a bandaid and gathered whatever courage I had to push my knickers down my legs and step out of them. I kicked them towards the rest of my clothes and immediately used my arms to try and cover my breasts with my hands clasped in front of my sex.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Sister,” said the Cardinal, bored disdain dripping from his words. He pointed at the stool. “Sit.”

I awkwardly perched myself on the stool, my hands in my lap and keeping my thighs pressed together tightly while my feet dangled. I didn’t know where to look as he approached me, engulfing me again in that delirious scent of his. It made my skin prickle and I tried to think of anything that would distract me. I was all too aware of how bare I was and didn’t need my stupid body to give me away. Thankfully, he walked behind me and I felt myself relax somewhat. It didn’t last long. Suddenly and without warning, a leather-clad hand was gripping my shoulder while the other touched my bare back. I couldn’t help but flinch at the sudden contact.

“You have not been here long, Sister.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” I replied as his hand pushed me forward slightly. “I only joined a few months ago.”

“Most marks are on the torso,” he said. “The mark isn’t used much in these modern times but everyone is gifted one.” I felt the leather glide down my back, making my skin break out in gooseflesh. It felt unbearably soft despite his precise movement. “Sometimes it is like that of a burn—a branding—or it can be like a tattoo or birthmark. But it’s always His sign.”

It was easier to try and pretend I was merely in a lesson, or perhaps mass, and not sitting here naked while his hands roamed over my skin. He grasped my shoulder again and pulled me back upright. A gloved hand swept my hair to the side and trailed gently over the back of my neck. He moved methodically but I couldn’t deny how every touch sent my nerves alight. Occasionally when he moved closer, the grucifix he wore would swing forward and I’d feel the cool bejewelled cross graze against the skin of my back.

When he tilted my head to the side to look behind my ear I had to bite my lip. The patch of skin there was too sensitive and again my body was tingling. I tried to squeeze my thighs together and then abruptly stopped—I was completely bare, I told myself, and couldn’t hide. He would notice. I tried to think of anything to distract myself: Nihil naked, the smell of rotten eggs—anything revolting I could think of. But it was too hard to conjure up anything disagreeable with those hands on my skin and his scent enveloping me.

“Nothing yet, Sorella,” he hummed. He sounded a little gleeful, as though he was hoping to be the one to find the imposter in our midst. “It could be on your head,” he continued thoughtfully, hand grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging me back so I had to look up at him, “we could chop it all off but that would be a shame to have you looking like Papa Secondo.”

He let out a bark of laughter and moved in front of me, letting go of my hair. I still kept my hands in my lap, trying to salvage whatever modesty I had but he grabbed one arm and stretched it out. I didn’t know where to look so I just stared below his chin at the top few buttons of his black cassock. He twisted my arm and then spread my fingers before he dropped my hand unceremoniously and began doing the same to the other.

It felt like a slight reprieve to have him checking my arm and hand. It didn’t make me feel as delirious as his touching of my back and neck. But too soon he was done with the other arm. I couldn’t place my hands back in my lap so I just gripped the side of the stool. The Cardinal was already tilting my chin up so his fingers could glide over my throat before they dipped over my collarbone. There was a rustle of fabric as I heard him lower himself to the ground before me. I kept my head slightly up, staring at a small brass globe sitting on a shelf behind his desk. One of his hands was gripping my waist while the other flittered over my chest. He muttered something in Italian under his breath.

“I have yet to find a single mark on your skin, dolce,” he said and I still refused to look at him.

“There will be one,” I replied even as my breath hitched.

The feel of his thumb digging into my hip was driving me insane and I tried to take in a calm and even breath. But I lost any composure I had when his thumb accidentally swiped over my nipple. I sucked in a sharp breath in an effort not to moan, my whole body trembling at the contact. 

“Keep still then.”

I bit my lip again as leather moved underneath my breast. How was I supposed to keep still? Surely he didn’t need to touch what felt like every inch of my skin? It was torturous. 

His careful and businesslike touches should not have had me dancing precariously on the knife’s edge of arousal but they did. I was praying that he would find it soon, I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. My stomach was tense with building desire and the throb between my legs was getting insistent, I knew I was already soaking wet. Sneaking a glance down at him, I could see his face was set in an expression of focused concentration—his heavy brow furrowed as his eyes swept over my legs. A hand glided up my shin and gripped the side of my knee, fingers tickling the back of my thigh.

He hummed in thought and when I saw his finger move between my pressed legs I nearly cried out.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered.

No way, I told myself. I was not parting my legs. It was too humiliating. But he just glanced up and caught my eye.

“Do it now, Sorella.”

That frightening face just watched me, seeming to dare me to defy him. I parted my legs barely two inches. His face was directly in front of my shamefully soaked pussy and I was terrified he would notice—and even worse that he would make some snide remark about it. But I knew he had to notice, there was no way he couldn’t smell it. If I could, he certainly could. I wanted to run, but his grip on my leg was firm.

An irritated huff fell from his lips before his large hands swept up my legs and gripped my knees. He forced my legs apart and I nearly tipped off the stool with the sudden force of it. My face flushed again and I readjusted my tight grip on the seat and stared up at the ceiling. The humiliation had me breathing hard. I couldn’t even try to pretend I had any composure left as soft leather-clad fingers moved over the inside of my thigh. I glanced down again unable to stop myself and saw him lean closer. His finger paused—it was right in the crease of where my thigh met my groin. His hand was so close to my dripping sex I was ready to scream. He tapped my skin and I squirmed in my seat.

“I think this is it, dolce,” I felt his breath against my folds and bit the inside of my cheek. How was he doing this? How in heaven was he so calm? “But I have to check for sure.”

“How?” I managed to ask. I didn’t even sound like myself.

As with earlier when he had first begun, there was no warning from him. His head just moved forward as his hands dug into the flesh of my thighs before I felt his mouth kiss against the skin. His cheek brushed again my pussy, sideburns tickling and teasing my flesh before it was suddenly gone. I’d been unable to stop the soft whine of protest that fell from my lips, I prayed that he hadn’t heard.

Suddenly it stung hot and I gasped. I looked where he had touched me—there was a small mark—three sixes intertwined—which blared red for a moment before it faded to look like a regular birthmark. It also sent a rush of pure, unfiltered pleasure through my entire body—a body that was already on edge. I shuddered. The temptation to just scoot myself forward an inch or so, just so that the Cardinal’s large nose was buried against me was overwhelming. 

But he stood abruptly, smoothing his hands over his cassock not even phased that he had left me a wanton mess. I just sat there, still breathing hard as I tried to come to myself.

“You can go, Sister,” he said, moving towards his desk. He glanced at a clock on the wall and grabbed his biretta before placing it on his head and giving me another withering look. “I’m already late for dinner.”

thanks for reading! will hopefully add the rest soon :) apologies for any errors.

Dai! - Come on! Satana salvami dalle bambine stupide - Satan save me from stupid little girls

chapter two

[profanepurity]

Praeteritum AU!!!! Long Post!

I’ll post design sheets for everyone along with mini comics, but here’s the solid designs (for now) for Papa I and Prime Mover Elizabeth!

At this point in time, Elizabeth is the only Prime Mover in the clergy, which is a very coveted position, placing her just under Sister Imperator. While she does not have any children with Primo (yet), she is very much involved in rituals, sacrament, holding her own following to Lilith specifically within the church, and caring for the ghouls that “spawn” in Primo’s garden.

Side note: I’ll elaborate on this more later, but I like to think of Primo’s garden as a very unholy place. Many rituals and sacrifices are offered in dedicated areas that act as altars. While Primo has recently given the title of “Papa” to Secondo, the current Papa at this point, there are still a number of siblings that also attend mass led by Primo and Eliza in their gardens. Because of all that dark energy, Lucifer has “unblessed” it as basically a demon hot spot. Some spawn as ghoulings, others as fully grown hellish creatures.

In fact, standing behind Primo in the mini comic is Mountain! He serves as “Earth” (in this AU) under Primo; deciding to stick with him even after he steps down as Papa, at least for now.

Sister Elizabeth (Primo absolutely dedicated that song to her), is looked up to by many of the siblings and ghouls as both an authority and maternal figure. While she may be outwardly intimidating, she is an incredibly warm, patient, and protective woman. She is always backing Primo’s guidance of the siblings with a nurturing hand. And while she doesn’t need it, Primo will always defend and support his wife when necessary. They’re your loving Satanic grandparents.

Because they don’t have any children yet, this is a big source of discourse between them, Nihil, and occasionally Imperator. You’ll notice a bit of bitterness in Primo’s words- he’s projecting a bit towards Nihil. Eliza and him as still very active and involved in the church, and want to make sure they can balance their duties to the Olde One and raise a child properly, especially if that child could potentially be the antichrist…. Or is the antichrist already among them? 👀

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

hi :3 my 23rd birthday is tomorrow and if you have time/requests are open may I please have a set for Copia (or all da papas I’m just a Copia girly) celebrating his s/o’s birthday? I love your work and thank you so much for considering 💓

Happy belated birthday!! Sorry I didn't answer sooner, been busier than I thought I would be oops. I hope you had a wonderful birthday anon <3 very slightly suggestive so minors DNI. There's no smut, but all the same minors please scroll away (also tysm anon, it makes me super happy knowing that people enjoy my work <3)

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨

Primo isn't someone who usually celebrates his own birthday, but he will absolutely celebrate yours with you

You'll wake up to one of his ghouls giving you breakfast in bread with your favourite tea blend or coffee that Primo has made especially for you

He'll have his ghouls also put up a couple of streamers and some balloons to mark the occasion

Expect to receive the biggest, most beautiful bouquet of flowers that he's grown himself and put together in a beautiful arrangement just for you

It's a quiet celebration with just you, a few of your friends, Primo, and his ghouls out in the abbey gardens

The main gift he'll give you is a day trip to a luxurious spa owned by the Ministry. I'm talking massages, sauna, manicure, pedicure, whatever services you want all for free because he's paid for it all

At the end of the day, he'll run you a hot bath with some bubbles, scented candles, and relaxing music. You both relax in the bath together as you wind down after a calm but intimate birthday celebration

You'll both fall asleep together in bed watching a film, snuggled up beneath the covers

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨

Another Emeritus brother who will throw a small but intimate celebration

Well, during the day that is

The daytime celebration is you, him, his brothers, and your friends getting together for a lunch that he's planned out meticulously and curated just for you so that it's all your favourite foods and drinks

Practically buries you under gifts that he's either bought or had made for you over the past year. Absolutely spoils you rotten

He then takes you and some friends out clubbing at one of the Ministry owned clubs for the nighttime celebration

Reserved the VIP section especially for the occasion

He gets very touchy but doesn't go any further than lingering touches or pulling you into his lap to kiss you

That's being saved for when the two of you are alone later in the night nudge nudge wink wink

𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐨

I think a lot of people would assume that he'll wake you up on your birthday for certain bedroom activities to celebrate

And don't get me wrong, if that's what you want then he's up for that

But he actually lets you sleep in and when you do wake up you're met with a bedroom decorated with so many balloons and streamers and banners that you wonder for a moment if you've woken up in an alternate dimension

Terzo didn't get to celebrate birthdays much growing up as the youngest of the Emeritus brothers, especially with a father like Nihil, so he wants to go all out and make yours special

He spent hours in the kitchen after decorating and before you woke up baking you a birthday cake

It's your favourite cake, covered with your favourite colour and flavour of icing, and the words "happy birthday, tesore" written on top

Most of your day is going to be spent opening the ridiculous amount of presents he got you

A lot of the presents are homemade things, such as a photo album stuffed full of photos of you and him and your friends. He wanted you to have gifts that felt special and personal, so a lot of his time over the past month or so was spent making and putting the gifts together

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚

One thing you need to know about Copia: he is party planner extraordinaire

After spending many years being the one to organise all the Ministry functions and parties, he could probably retire and become an events planner whenever he doesn't want to be Papa anymore

Your birthday starts with you waking up to him softly singing to himself as he puts little party hats and costumes on his rats, wearing his own party outfit of a sparkly jacket in your favourite colour and a matching party hat

The party he's organised for you is breathtaking and everyone in the Ministry as well as your friends are in attendance

He struggled on deciding what to get you for your birthday, so he's bought a variety of gifts in the hopes that you'll like them

You might have to reassure him that you'll love any gift he gets you because he's so anxious about impressing you and making you happy

When the party is over and you're both back in your room, he does have another surprise for you

He gets his Papal paints out and paints his own makeup on your face. It's a very special and intimate act for a Papa and his partner that's almost like a ritual, so him doing this with you is an incredibly intimate and meaningful act that shows his love and commitment to you

[sokoal]

Some Charles fans in the past few days are very annoying. Why do you think about Charles as an innocent puppy? He is a grown up man with a sufficient level of self-confidence. Not a defenseless little boy who can't fight his own rigths. I'm sure when he was aware about Lewis his first thought was his own place in the team. But why do you think he didn't use this during the negotiations?? And don't have illusions, he definitely knew about it all the time not just in the winter. I'm quite sure after Lewis signed his contract with Merc Charles knew that Lewis didn't closed all the doors to Ferrari. Do not think that these two didn't talk even once about it... So yes, Charles can fight and he certainly reached as much as he wanted. He would never have signed the contract if he had not insured himself.

And yeah, at first sight Charles' situation is not the best, but don't you think that Lewis took the biggest risk here? What if his calculations won't work? Charles wins anyway. He has an opportunity to prove himself again and I think he sees it as a motivation. In the other hand he wants change inside of Ferrari, just like Fred, and the best boost for this is Lewis. And don't forget that Lewis is one of the best development pilot so with his knowledge and attitude he can shake this team from nihilism...

Oh and Lewis gets paid more.... pff please, he is Lewis Hamilton for god sake! I guess this is the last thing what Charles cares about...

[inkrabbit]

Ok ok hear me out… the papas fussing at you bc it’s cold and fuck out. and ur not wearing “suitable attire”

Primo:

oh you're never going to hear the end of this

he's marching over to you, a stern and worried look on his face

"Girasole, are you trying to catch your death? It's freezing out here! Come. We'll go back inside and I'll make you some tea."

he's already taken his scarf and jacket off, wrapping you up and ushering you back inside the abbey

he's going to be ranting and raving for a while, so just let him go. really, he does care. he's just gonna be annoying about it because "you should know better"

let him hold you in his lap for a while so you can heat up. you're sure he just wants you close to him, but he won't ever admit that part

Secondo:

"... Uccello canoro, you know it's freezing out, sì?"

his hands are stuffed in his pockets as he looks at you from the safety of the abbey, standing in the doorway

don't make him tell you twice to get back inside. or do, if you really wanna mess with him. he might be old, but he still has a good amount of stamina left

if you do decide to challenge him, you better be prepared to be picked up

you're not getting his jacket. you made the grown-up decision to go outside in a thin shirt and he's forcing you to stick with that grown-up decision

he does, however, have a few ideas in mind to warm you right up if you've got the energy and drive for it

Terzo:

the second he sees you're outside without a jacket, he's quickly making his way towards you, huffing and puffing

"Amore, don't you feel well? What's the meaning of this?"

he'd already grabbed a coat for you by the time he left his office, and he's carefully draping it across your shoulders when he gets to you

he's softly scolding you while he leads you back inside, asking just what exactly you were thinking

he offers to sit with you at the window so the two of you can enjoy the cold day together

but only if you agree to sit in his lap and let him indulge in a few heated kisses

Copia:

in the beginning, he doesn't really say anything. everyone has their quirks, right?

but when he even starts shivering with his jacket on, he starts to get worried about you

you've been out in the garden for over an hour with no jacket on, and you're just... fine????

"Little mouse! Aren't you cold? Please, come back inside! At least put something warmer on..."

he doesn't have the heart to rip you away from your fun, but he's also worried about your health

he'll bring you some hot chocolate and a nice jacket, just to make sure you're okay pls put it on, he'll cry if you don't

Bonus:

Young Papa Nihil:

if you're planning on standing out in the cold to get his attention, you fucked up

mans will look at you and just be like "yeah okay sure, this is what you're doing today"

he's not gonna be romantic and give you his jacket, even if you tell him it's chilly out

"Yeah, that's crazy, isn't it? Too bad I can't control the weather. It's why I'm wearing a jacket."

honestly, he's so caught up in his own little world that he'll accidentally lock you out. I promise it just slipped his mind. you know he's not the brightest

he will apologize for it tho, and he'll cuddle with you as you two are wrapped up in blankets to show how sorry he is for his little slip-up

[ghulehunknown]

Papa Headcanons 🫂🩸

Day 14 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃

**WARNING - some NSFW included**

Also available on AO3!

My headcanons of the Papas taking care of you while on your period

Primo

Does not fully understand how painful it is for you, but shows empathy all the same, knowing he’d never want to experience it himself

Holds you in his arms, rubs your shoulders and back, and kisses your forehead

Brings you a heating pad and hot chocolate or tea, or anything in particular you’re craving

He is absolutely fine not having sex or receiving BJs from you and does not bring it up unless you seem particularly keen

Gives you his own edibles made from Ministry-grown marijuana

Stays up to watch a movie with you, holding your hand while you’re curled up in pain but quickly falls asleep next to you

Secondo

Has a stockpile of necessary items for all his ghulehs - pads, tampons, pain meds, heating pads, snacks, etc.

Is usually known throughout the Ministry to have extra tampons under his bathroom sink in case you run out or forgot to put one in your purse

Already has towels down on the mattress and is prepared for sex to get messy

Is fine with getting blood on his dick but prefers to shower right after

He’s also perfectly fine to eat you out

Gives you lots of kisses whenever you want

Massages your back

Terzo

First, curses the universe for punishing you simply for having ovaries and a uterus. Second, praises Lucifer that you’re not pregnant.

Will gladly go to the store to get you anything you want or need, but definitely buys the wrong thing (“Babe, what size pussy do you own?” and proceeds to buy the wrong kind of pad anyway)

Drives you to your fave fast food place at 3AM because you woke up hungry and craving fries (because oddly so did he)

“Wahoo, blowjob week!”

Keeps saying “You know the cure for your pains, eh? *waggles eyebrows* The feeeemale orgasm!”

Fucking LOVES the sight of your blood on his dick

Excited to go down on you

Enjoys quiet movie nights when you’re not feeling up to sex

Cardinal Copia

Gulps and gets a little nervous

The sight of blood makes him woozy

He’ll still run to the store for you to get what you need, but gets lost and only brings back half of what you asked for (“They didn’t have it!” he’ll claim, sure that he checked everywhere)

Tells you a story about how one time in elementary school some kid kicked him in the balls so he understands your pain

Nervous about having sex and seeing blood but he would try anything for you if you really wanted to

He’d prefer to make you happy in other ways like giving you snacks and back rubs

Dracopia 🧛

“Your cunt looks especially delicious, tesoro.”

Celebrates your body’s natural cycles and praises Lucifer

He already knows your menstrual cycle and knew you were about to start it before you did

Has pain meds blended up in a smoothie for you

Tells you he didn’t buy tampons at the store because you don’t need them *wink*

Practically cums when he smells fresh blood on you

“You are so wet~” “Copia, it’s blood.” “Ehh, yes I know”

Eats you out like a champ

Popia

He drops whatever he’s doing and goes to the store immediately to bring you snacks and tampons

Gets you whatever snacks you desire and eats half of them

Texts you every step of the way in the store (“Okay I walked inside…okay I turned to the right…10 steps down the…3rd aisle? Okie dokie!”)

Content to just cuddle and watch movies with you

Also content to get blowies but particularly curious about going down on you and how different it might be than usual

Nihil

Still thinks you can’t get pregnant on your period

Thinks you bleed out of your pee hole. Actually, he thinks your vagina is also your pee hole. Actually he doesn’t know. There are 3 holes?!

Grumbles, not understanding your pain, but you return home later and a single rose and some pain meds lay on the nightstand with a Hallmark greeting card that says “get well soon” - he’s too out of his comfort zone to buy pads or tampons

Won’t touch your vagina unless you’ve just showered, but will gladly hint at getting a blowjob

When/if you do have sex he wears it like a badge of honor as if he’s just gone to war and braved some unspeakable fate, almost expecting to get praised for doing so

[sophiasharp]

I think I might be the sole target audience for this but

The Papas during Lobster Mini-Season

Primo

Designated boat driver

Really good sense of direction, helps a lot when it comes to keeping track of old hot spots

Can also cheat and just magic his way into figuring out where all the lobster are hiding. Don’t tell the regulars, they’ll be pissed

Enjoys singing along to the radio while his brothers do most of the actual catching

Goes out again when the rest have their fill to his own secret spots. Enjoys some peace and quiet, taking his time catching his limit. He refuses to tell his brothers where he goes and it pisses them off to no end lol

Secondo

Beach! Bum! Secondo! My! Beloved!

More of a Vegas guy but still LOVES him some ocean time, especially in The Keys. Viva La Conch Republic babyyyyyy!

Gets day drunk while he’s on the boat but then has ruthless efficiency in the water. Soon as he’s out again, the buzz comes back. No one has any idea how the fuck that works.

Is the one that makes sure they adhere to the legal limit. “I refuse to get our asses arrested and have the Ministry deal with that PR issue just because we got greedy with some sea roaches. I’m on thin ice as is, that would just be embarrassing.”

Puts the lobsters he catches in his own personal cooler. This also happens to be where he keeps his drinks. He doesn’t seem to mind so no one questions it.

Insists on listening to Jimmy Buffett when he’s in charge of the boat and at any other opportunity.

Terzo

Weirdly competitive about it, has this inherent need to be The Best at lobster catching. Probably the Middle Sibling Instinct kicking in.

Him and Secondo go head to head every year over who can get more over the mini-season. They’re about evenly matched skill-wise so it tends to go back and forth every year.

Will sometimes start arguments in the water over a catch

“That one was mine! I chased it out of the hole when your bald ass got in the way and stole it!” “I found that lobster fair and square and you know it, fuck off” “Right sure, and Nihil loves us. I hope you sunburn your skull, stronzo.”

There have been slap fights between two grown men in 4 feet of water.

Was the one to figure out that the lobster are calmer and taste better when you keep them on ice. It took. An embarrassing amount of time for them to figure that out. They started this tradition before Google, alright? Give them a break.

Likes to sing along to the radio as well, but makes up new lyrics when Secondo gets on his nerves.

Copia

New to this whole thing cause he was scared of getting in the water and having to pick the lobsters up by hand. Mostly just slept on the boat in years prior

Now that he’s Papa though the others made him participate with them.

He is. Very nervous. First time he scared a lobster out of a hole he somehow scared out a second that was faced the other way and it swam directly at his face, scaring the absolute shit out of him.

His snorkel keeps falling over his ear :(

Lost his net and his tickle stick in water with 4 feet of visibility, managed beyond all odds to find them again, then lost his looper in the process of catching something.

Somehow still managed to get the biggest lobster of the day. Like cartoonishly so. It was his big trophy. They cooked it for him for dinner as a reward for his first outing.

Nihil

Just here so the brothers can increase their legal limit.

He’s become one with the sea grass

Sleeping with the fishies

Don’t worry he’ll wake up when a crab tries to bite his ass