in-cardi-c-we-thrust - Tumblr blog

in-cardi-c-we-thrust · 2 days

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Phantom is too afraid to let a hand or a foot hang over the edge of the bed at night because Dewdrop told him that the monsters under the bed are just waiting for that. What Phantom doesn't know is that the only monster under his bed is Swiss.

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in-cardi-c-we-thrust · 2 days

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Here is one I took at the ritual I went to

Bat Copia my beloved

#i love him #bat copia #𐕣 #ghost #the band ghost #ghost band #papa emeritus iv #papa copia #copia #he is so cool

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in-cardi-c-we-thrust · 5 days

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endless ghifs 15/? ⛧ source — "You go down, just like Holy Mary..."

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in-cardi-c-we-thrust · 5 days

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BEEF

Nah, bro, cause the movie announcement fucked with my head

@historian-crown @riptide-kid @anamelessfool @monkberryghouldelight @lizzthefrizzzz @emeritus-fuckers @4ever-urs-nocturnal-me @skywarpie @stressghoul

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in-cardi-c-we-thrust · 5 days

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@riptide-kid

aw shucks.

(for @conjuring-ghouls ♡)

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in-cardi-c-we-thrust · 5 days

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Nah, bro, cause the movie announcement fucked with my head

@historian-crown @riptide-kid @anamelessfool @monkberryghouldelight @lizzthefrizzzz @emeritus-fuckers @4ever-urs-nocturnal-me @skywarpie @stressghoul

#the band ghost #shitghosting #ghost #ghost bc #ghostbc #cardinal copia #popia #papa 4 #copia #papa emeritus iv

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in-cardi-c-we-thrust · 12 days

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Outlaw F!Reader x "The Ghoul" Cooper Howard (18+ MDNI) Full Fic here on AO3

Chapter 3: Scamp (AO3 Link Here)

You're not running away from your sins, you're running towards the truth.

The Ghoul has a little shopping list to check off before turning you in.

Tags: Read Em All on AO3 (Dead Dove), Blood and Gore, Gunplay, Broken Bones, Bandits & Outlaws, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Dystopia, Blood and Injury, Light Cannibalism, Is It Sorta Hot He Could Possibly Eat You Or Is That Just Me, Mystery and Intrigue, Western

And now my writing mania returns to the crypt from which it emerged.... reblogs appreciated we loves it om nom nom

Let me know if you'd like to be on the tag list!

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in-cardi-c-we-thrust · 12 days

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Outlaw F!Reader x "The Ghoul" Cooper Howard (18+ MDNI) Full Fic here on AO3

Chapter 2: A Good Word (AO3 Link Here)

You're not running away from your sins, you're running towards the truth.

The expectation of an Overseer is to be of pleasant temperament, with a neat and well-manicured appearance. You are the friendly face of your Vault, a representation of the hospitality and amiable atomosphere cultivated here at Vault-Tech Industries. And the family at Vault-Tech Industries knows that the best leaders are in their hearts the most dedicated followers.

Tags: Read Em All on AO3, Blood and Gore, Gunplay, Broken Bones, Bandits & Outlaws, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Dystopia, Blood and Injury, Mystery and Intrigue, Western

Full Chapter because it's small below the cut!

White sails…white sails against the blue steel of the vault doors. Dangling like the shattered wings of a seagull. Or at least what you think are seagulls. You have read about them and it is important to keep oneself in the know when it comes to extinct creatures.

Your breath coats the glass of your hazmat helmet while the RAD meter on your PiP boy crackles, whines. It's the historic fog of the estuary. The wind off the ocean blows the moisture almost daily across the land. Fog thick with radiation. The foliage has responded in kind, growing small and meek and clinging to rocks like slime. Around you are the blackened bones of ancient trees, some you knew were hundreds of feet high and thousands of years old. Some of the oldest life forms on the planet. Now their remains stick out from the soil like toothpicks on a cheese platter.

But back to the white sails. You see them now as you come close. It was some sort of glider. A ridable kite.

Your surface recovery team had discovered the craft after hearing a loud bang across the outer vault doors this afternoon. The crash was soon after the thick fog rolled in. The occupant was dying, but he requested to see the Overseer.

He requested to see you. Alone.

And the moment you see him lodged in the ruined cockpit you freeze. He's wearing a gold jumpsuit with blue striped details, an unmistakable mark of authority. An executive. An Overseer of overseers. If the Vaults in Area 33 are little hives of productivity and human civilization, the Executives are the beekeepers. They have their own vault in the center of the molecule that is Area 33. And from there they do what they please. And apparently that includes joyriding gliders along the coast.

You know, rich people stuff. Successful people hobbies.

Your heart starts to pound, but it's not with dread or fear or despair for the pilot.

The executives give out promotions sometimes. Transfers. And even though this one's dying, you always want to give a good impression. You have been working on your resume for a while now, anyway.

“Hello! Welcome to Vault 66!”

You try to be friendly and upbeat, even though the man has been slowly dying from a shattered spine and skull injury for two hours now. “This fog sure is a real chestnut, isn't it?” You chuckle. “Although I bet the views of the ocean from up where you were flying were spectacular.”

“They….were…”

You cheerily give him your name. Your title. You would shake the man's hand if it wasn't permanently pinned under some sort of crumpled control panel. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes…” He coughs, groans. “Come close. Closer.”

You position yourself as deep into the cockpit as your clunky hazmat helmet will allow.

The executive winces and recovers. “Unzip my jumpsuit.”

“Uh…” Your brow furrows as you search your mind for protocol. You don't remember this being a scenario from the training slideshows. Is this considered workplace harassment? Quid pro quo? Personal space issues? To be fair, the destroyed remains of a vehicular accident could be classed as a hostile work environment. You give him a small, polite smile. “Repeat that again, sir?”

“Unzip my jumpsuit. That's an order, Overseer.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you laugh nervously, and unzip the front to expose his stained undershirt.

“Inner…left…pocket….” He screws up his eyes in pain, expelling air across the glass of your helmet.

“Heh, right away,” you say, reaching a little too close to a man you just met. That pocket is usually reserved for private things. Vitamins. Tissues. Feminine products. Fertility Tablets. Anti-fertility tablets. Intimate….devices. Not really something that another person reaches in unless they have a headcold or are busy repopulating the planet. What comes out of his inner pocket is an item you've never seen before. It’s small, half the size of a PiP boy screen, and thin. Made of a gold material. The front has a small digital panel that displays a long serial number that as you stare at it, wipes away and reconfigures every thirty seconds. You flip the little device over and a shine slides across it— you're convinced it's made of pure gold with some sort of tiny nuclear battery inside. A pocket atomic clock. To tell what, you're unsure. On the back is stamped a few mysterious numbers:

34.8559704, -111.7801052

You flash him a friendly smile but you feel the strain behind your eyes. “Um sir, what is this?”

“Vault Tech Company Property. Absolutely top secret. Override previous protocol. You are to keep this in your intimates pocket until further notice. You are not to inform a soul.” He coughs again, and blood flecks across the glass of your mask. “Got, that Vault 33-66 Overseer?”

You throw on your professional service smile, nodding with gratitude. “My pleasure, sir! Would—”

You start to request that he put in a good word for you but then you suddenly remember that the only other executive he's going to see soon is his own Maker.

“And another order, Overseer.”

“Hmm? What's that?”

“I'm giving you authorization to put me out of my goddam misery.”

“Oh…right.” You laugh nervously, pulling your gun from its holster at your hip. Lucky for him it was mating season for the RAD Seals and without a solid authentic piece a topside forager would be a pile of bone and jelly on the beach. You cock it and press it to his head, leaning back and getting into Stabilized Proper Armament Form (SPAF). “Well, sir, it's been a pleasure. Thanks for stopping by.”

And you pull the trigger.

My Fic List (Oops all Ghost!)

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