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honeyynymphh · 1 year

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I had a thought for a fic and bc I love ur writing…

copia x mile high club

first of all, thank you so much!! mile high club certainly is not something I would have ever thought of but it did give me an idea so here it is! Inflight Meal Papa IV x FemReader rating: E words: 2600 tags: dom copia, cunnilingus, sex, fucking on the job, drinking on the job, dirty talk, cheesy af, there is no resemblence to canon like anywhere in this story lmao AO3

summary: as an air hostess you are used to strange people, especially when they have their own private jet. but this was definitely the strangest one.

also Copia still has his moustache because I said so! I know nothing about flying, this is pretty silly and it is not checked so sorry for any mistakes!

Straightening your skirt you stand waiting for the passengers to board the plane. Last minute you’d been called in to help on an overnight flight to Italy by Jack—the usual pilot you flew with. Apparently, some priest was travelling back to his hometown for an important ceremony and his crew were short a few staff members. You would have refused at such a late request, especially as you had to wear a completely different uniform. It wasn’t the airlines—apparently the priest had insisted all the crew fit in with the rest of his staff.

What an arrogant prick.

But the money had been way above the norm and you rarely were asked to do private flights. And the uniform was not much different than your usual skirt and jacket. Except it was cerulean blue with little embroidered golden details—and a strange inverted crucifix emblazoned on the chest. You were just grateful it wasn’t a nun's habit.

You heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to board and straightened your back, plastering on the practised smile. Many a jerk you’ve had to deal with and today would be no different—no matter how fancy an aircraft it was. You’d had a little snoop before. The whole aircraft was dark wood and detailed with the same shade of blue and gold. The jet was fitted with a main bedroom, kitchen, office and then the main seating area. God must be real generous, you think with a roll of your eyes.

The first person aboard is an older woman, her blonde hair styled to perfection and wearing a severe yet fitting suit jacket and skirt—all in black but detailed with the same hints of blue and gold as your uniform. She smiles at you and you gesture for her to enter, giving her a welcoming smile as you bid good evening. Next is a man…at least you think it’s a man. The smile on your face falters a moment before you right it again on your perfectly painted lips.

His dress is fine. He’s dressed all in black—though his jacket has the same little crucifix on it as yours—it’s the mask he wears that throws you. It’s silver, demonic and completely obscures his face.

Weird. But you were here to serve drinks and food, not care about the passengers and their odd choice of attire. The…man walks past you without a glance and settles into a chair before pulling out a rolled-up magazine from his trouser pocket.

You’re too busy still looking at him when a voice says, “Buonasera, Signorina.”

When you turn towards it, you’re met with a pair of mismatched eyes set in a face painted like a skull. But despite it, it’s still an attractive one and the man’s voice is pleasant—the Italian lilt to his words makes your smile genuine, if not a little bemused. He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, way too tightly fitting that it’s almost indecent.

He takes your hand, the soft leather that encases his hand is buttery soft and warm. He kisses your hand, moustache tickling your skin. He introduces himself as Papa Emeritus the Fourth before he gives you a smile and heads into the plane. You watch, bemused, as he greets the other two—the woman talking quickly and hovering around him like a mother hen. He waves her off with some words in Italian and disappears down to the back of the plane.

That cannot be a priest, you think. Maybe Jack got the information wrong. He looks too…you don’t even know. You rub at your hand. At least he didn’t seem like a complete asshole, nor had he started preaching—and really, that was all you cared about. You kept staring off down towards the back of the plane, mind still fixated on the mysterious man.

“You ready?” says Jack, ducking out of the cockpit.

“Huh?” you say distractedly, head snapping to look at the pilot.

Another crew member has appeared, she’s wearing the same uniform as you and she’s standing there patiently waiting for you. You had only briefly spoken to her earlier, she had said her name was Sister Hayley you think. A nun. Not that the woman looked anything like a nun.

“Arm and crosscheck?” he says.

“Oh, yes, right.”

When miles above ground and flying somewhere over the Atlantic ocean you’re giving out drinks. The man in the silver mask declines anything, choosing instead to lounge on the plush seating like an overgrown cat while the woman—who had politely introduced herself as Sister Imperator—sat in one of the comfortable chairs at a small desk. You’d given her a drink—a gin and tonic—and then headed down to go find the enigmatic Papa Emeritus.

The office is empty and so you head to the bedroom, the door is closed and you knock politely before sliding it open. You find the man propped up on the bed, book in hand and a pair of glasses perched low on his long nose. He glances up at you and the darkly painted lips quirk into a pleased smile. It makes your stomach flip.

“Sir, would you like a drink?” you ask, standing there with your hands clasped in front of you. “Or something to eat?”

The man gives you a smile, easy and smug. Again you wonder why he was wearing such tight trousers. What the hell kind of church was he from?

“Si, wine, per favore. Anything from the stock in the kitchens. Pick something.” He gives you a long look. “Two glasses.”

“No problem, sir, anything to eat?” you ask. Fuck you wish he’d stop looking at you like that.

His painted lips quirk but he shakes his head. “Just bring the wine, signorina.”

You head to the little kitchen and randomly grab a bottle, simply picking one based on the label. You grab two glasses and then walk back towards the suite. You smile politely as you enter and place the glasses on the little table next to him.

“Is this to your liking, sir?” you ask, holding out the bottle for him to inspect.

“Papa,” he says, leaning over to peer at the label before he nods. “Not ‘sir’.”

You pour him a glass and place the bottle beside it. “Is there anything else?”

He closes the book he is reading a throws it on the bed, you catch the cover—it’s in a different language but it has a picture of a goat and a pentagram on it. He waves a hand at the other glass.

“Pour yourself one as well, signorina.”

You frown at him. “That is kind of you, but I am working.”

The man winks at you, grabbing the bottle himself and pouring out a measured amount. You watch the liquid slosh in the glass.

“I promise I won’t tell,” he says, extending it out to you.

You take it and hold it awkwardly, the smile on your face fixed. You did not want to get in trouble with Jack and lose your job. But a glass couldn’t help and you’d attended to everyone. You sip it and Papa smiles.

Somehow you end up two glasses deep. It’s not enough to make you drunk but damn it’s enough to make you feel far too relaxed. And you’ve somehow found yourself sitting next to him on the bed. You really should go back though. But it’s been lovely chatting to him, he talks of his flock with affection and mentions Sister Imperator fondly.

“This might be a stupid question,” you ask, the wine having loosened your tongue, “but what exactly are you a priest of?”

He laughs and it’s such a pleasant sound that you can’t help but smile. You’ve grown used to his strange face and it’s somewhat endearing to watch the lines on his face move as he chuckles.

“Not a priest, dolce,” he says. “Once upon a time, si, but now I am Papa.”

“You say that like I should know what you mean,” you reply.

“Like the Pope.” He grins. “Less preaching about the good of man and much more sinning.”

You cannot help but laugh, it sounds ridiculous. “I thought god said sinning was bad.”

“We do not worship a false god of fabricated mercy,” he utters, voice low. You stop laughing at the serious expression on his face, but it melts away when he adds. “We worship the lord below who relishes in sin. We are human, si? So we should take comfort in the pleasures it provides.”

“You’re telling me you worship the devil?” you ask, breath hitching when he leans in a little closer.

“Si,” he says, eyes fixed on you. “And I fear I have not worshipped in his name today at all. Perhaps you can help me, dolce?”

Suddenly his mouth is on yours. You freeze a movement but when you respond, his hands hold your face and pull him flush against him. His mouth is urgent and hot against yours, tongue delving into your mouth while your legs tangle together. Your lipstick is smudged red over his face and you’re certain he’s covered yours in black—you can taste it on your own lips but it doesn’t matter. He kisses like he is worshipping, hungry and possessive. It makes your head spin and you completely forget that this is certainly a breach of conduct. Especially when he’s flipping you onto your back, dragging your legs to the edge of the bed as he pushes your skirt up to bunch around your waist/

“Sorry, dolce, but now I’m feeling rather hungry.”

You hear the snap of your garter belt and feel the tension ease around your stockings so he can pull your knickers down your legs. Before you can draw another breath his face is between your legs, his breath skating over your wet folds before his tongue is flicking against you. You moan, hands instantly grabbing tufts of his peppered hair between your fingers as he works some sort of ungodly magic on your aching cunt.

Fucking hell.

Your back arches as he draws the tension out, leaving you panting on the edge of delirium. His arms move under your thighs and pull you closer to him as he devours you. You pull at his hair and grind against his face, unable to stop yourself from seeking more glorious threads of pleasure to wind tighter around your core.

His mouth breaks away as he can come up for air. You stare at him with a heavy-lidded expression, taking in that wicked mouth all glistening and smeared with paint by your own slick. He looked like the fucking devil and you were more than willing to sell your soul if it meant he wouldn’t stop.

“Cazzo, your pussy is delicious, dolce,” he breathes, nipping at the inside of your thigh.

His face returns to press against your cunt. And that nose! It’s pressed against your clit, mouth wet and tongue searching while his moustache tickles your skin. You arch back and your hands grip the sheets as the plane suddenly rocks—turbulence. Fuck.

Jack’s voice floats through the plane’s intercom system, certainly a mood killer, but Papa doesn’t stop.

“Please return to your seat, we are experiencing some mild turbulence.”

The craft rocks again but your eyes are too busy rolling into the back of your head as he eats you out like he’s on death row and you're his last meal.

You moan when you feel fingers, leather-clad ones, pressing into your pussy and stretching you. You bounce on his hand when you hit another pocket of turbulence, and his grip on your thigh tightens while the other hand is busy pumping into your wetness. Another pocket and another moan have you on the edge and trembling.

It doesn’t take much to have you rocking along with the aircraft as you come. You try not to moan too loudly and shove your fist in your mouth but Papa leans up and pulls your arm away from your face, that devilish visage hovering over you.

“Don’t silence such pretty sounds, dolce.”

You sigh, luxuriating in the waves that still ripple through you while the plane rocks again. Fuck. You feel his body move away from yours and you sigh. Your eyes had fallen closed as you relaxed but they snap open when you feel him crawl on top of you. He’s rid himself of some of his clothes—well, most of them. A heavily unbuttoned shirt was the only thing on him. You can see the hairs on his firm chest and when you feel his cock pressing between your legs you immediately spread them for him.

When he sinks into your welcoming pussy you moan. The stretch feels incredible and you desperately tilt your hips so he can sink in further. When he bottoms out, you both sigh. Papa has removed his gloves, and his large hands hold your hips, creasing the fabric of your uniform even further as he starts to pump into you.

You’re already so worked up and sensitive that you are already ready to come again quickly. Your walls are squeezing him and the sounds it draws from his lips are downright demonic. Your hands reach up to grip his shoulders so you can thrust up to meet him, both of your movements becoming hurried in your desperation for release.

“Do you want my cock so badly, signorina?” he growls, leaning over you and thrusting into you roughly. Your pant out a yes, or something that was meant to be a yes and only comes out as a string of incoherent nonsense as you nod your head fervently. “You have to come for me first, dolce.”

A hand moves between your bodies and he's rubbing at your swollen and sensitive clit. You cry out, not giving a single fuck that the entire plane can probably hear you. The plane rocks one last time and you hear the seatbelt sign turn off. But you are barely paying any attention to anything else except his cock buried inside you.

The tension in your core tightens again and with another deep thrust he has you coming apart for him. Your eyes shut as it crashes through you but he doesn’t stop. Your hands are gripping feebly at his shoulders, then the nape of his neck, his hair and then fistfuls of the front of his shirt to bring his mouth against yours.

You feel his cock swell within you as he growls against your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lips as his hips jerk. You feel him come, painting the inside of your cunt as he continues to thrust into you while his tongue does the same to your mouth. It’s desperate and you’re sweating in your uniform but you don’t care. It feels far too fucking good.

When the high finally eases and he rolls off you to lie beside you, you sigh in relief. Fuck that was something, you think.

“You call that worship?” you pant, turning your head lazily to look at him Your makeup and hair must be absolutely ruined because his is completely ruined. He looks deranged with his hair falling in his face and his paint all smeared.

He hums. “Si. My lord believes in the power of the female orgasm. Is there anything more divine than pleasure?”

You shake your head, mind still foggy with bliss. You utter the only words you can think of.

“Did you still want your inflight meal?”

He grins at you. “Maybe in an hour or so, signorina. I just ate.”

#this probably isnt what you meant anon lmao #i looked at a lot of interiors of private planes and it made me depressed #wish i were stupid rich #fly to see the mutuals #the band ghost fic #the band ghost #papa iv x reader #papa iv x female reader #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #popia x reader #inbox <3 #my-writing

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needle-noggins · 10 months

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clearly i'm in an analysis mood so i'll share my thoughts on the GHG scene in Trimax Volume 2, mostly Legato, that crazy son of a bitch.

First, there's something to be said about his wild Iron Lung set up. On my first read I thought it was more of a punishment from Knives for threatening Vash, but I guess it's also because his body is physically broken? And/or a way to curb his power? Either way, Legato is the definition of "jokes on you, I'm into that shit" because he's so extremely broken (in every sense of the word). There's a definite link between Legato's trauma and the fucked up little guy he is now but I don't know shit about shit so would not consider myself qualified to discuss it further. Please read madnessmadness's trigun bdsm post as a supplemental.

ok, this next panel made me gasp. It's not a needle-noggins analysis without religious symbolism, so here you go!

Vash is literally hanging upside down, arms splayed out on an upside down cross, when Legato talks about him. Like, okay pontius pilate!! I think Vash is upside down for two reasons, the obvious being that the reader can tell that Legato is talking about killing Vash (cool abstract blood splatter too, which kinda messes with the cross form and makes it less obvious) (but i see you nightow, you can't escape my catholic eyes). The second, is, well, the way that Peter was crucified - not right-side-up like good ol' Jesus. The story goes that Peter requested to be crucified upside down because he didn't deserve to die the same way as Jesus. Trigun muddles so many biblical references all at once that a direct correlation can't be made at any given time, but I think we can interpret this here as Vash being unworthy/not the savior in Legato's mind (to him that's Knives, ofc).

An upside-down crucifix now is also a satanic symbol, just like. Inverting Christianity. Obvious "these are the bad guys". But I think that's a much more common symbol in western culture than to Japanese so I'm not gonna read into that too much.

nothing to add here other than Midvalley is lowkey fine (like if Wolfwood got his shit together) and here we can see the internal conflict of the GHG. Nobody's doin' it like Legato's doin' it, and I wish Midvalley pulled that trigger (it's not his place though, but damn it sure would save Vash a lot of trouble).

Bring back Knives' bodycon bdsm dress, Stampede!!!

"engrave the futility of his cause into his every bone" jfc, Knives. I've said it earlier but Knives's attempt to show Vash "the true nature of [humanity]" backfires so hard because instead he just shows Vash the nature of his own being, the terrifying weapon that he is (cough fifth moon). Vash doesn't blame people at all for how they see him, because baby boy has absolutely zero self-esteem and far too much compassion. Meanwhile, Knives is still a proud, burnt out gifted kid who is terrified at his heart and he's going to make it everyone else's problem. Knives understands his brother so little that he doesn't see that his plan is just going to make Vash fight him harder. Knives is too blinded by his fear and disdain for humanity to even consider it. Zero compassion. Fantastic way to highlight the overarching themes of the story. (/hand-wavy "you get it, right?" motion)

Someone please get Legato a napkin and explain to him that Knives is not God. Something something horrible deeds being done in the name of God's "will"; Trimax is both showing us space Jesus as our beloved self-sacrificing protagonist while also warning us against blind faith in a vengeful God, etc etc. It's my Trigun book club analysis and I get to choose the biblical symbolism to fit the way I hate modern Christianity!

#trimax spoilers #trigunbookclub #sorry for popping off with this one re: religion if you come for my throat about it i will simply laugh #bc my relationship with religion is complicated and i dont care if you think im bad at it #i didnt go to catholic school from K-8th to NOT overanalyze the biblical references in my favorite space western anime #dont be weird on this post ok?#but do be weird if we're going to talk more about Legato's kink shit #bc im very much uneducated on that topic in general lol

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broken-clover · 2 months

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*poke poke* hey. Hey. Since you have overture on the brain, master ghost ideas for the other characters? Hmm??

Ohhh wow, now this is something we could be on all day, huh? So many options! So many opportunities to pick through a character and who they are.

-Dizzy is an easy start, I think. A counterpart to Ky. It's sort of like their treasures in Johnny's Xrd special being a family photo and a picture of Dizzy holding baby Sin. It'd be Ky holding him, or all of them together. Though since she has so much association with the Grove, instead of the church building imagery that Ky has in the detailing of his masterghost, hers would be more organic, trees and flowers and the like framing everything

-Also, let's give one to Sin! He can also have a lot of the same motifs, since he's young at the time a lot of it is more literal and self-centered because that's how a younger kid's mind works. It's a rather exaggerated depiction of himself, standing atop a mountain with a flag waving in victory. Dizzy gets a lot of focus as well, and Sol has an appearance too. You have to be very careful when looking, but if you poke your head in near the back, you can see Ky watching on too. Even if it's a less conscious part of his mind, Sin still loves his father and acknowledges him as part of his life

-As long as he's already here, too, let's give Raven his own one as well instead of having to share with Valentine. I feel his motifs are similarly easy, lots of gothic architecture and torture tools strewn about. The centerpiece is himself, mutilated and stabbed in several place, hanging from an upside-down crucifix. The inverted cross is commonly associated with other satanic motifs, like how Raven appears to be a violent individual whose fundamental existence goes against the natural order of nature, but in actuality, the symbol is related to martyrdom, specifically that of Apostle Peter, who felt unworthy being crucified in the same way as Jesus, tying into how Raven is ultimately a well-intentioned man who rejected being treated as a god.

-For some reason I want to do Axl next. Maybe just because he has a lot of obvious motifs as well. His is a little snapshot of home, similarly to how his stages have a lot of archetypical British motifs. Tall buildings, a clocktower, and a train cutting through the whole thing. All the components move, but they start and stop rather jarringly, like the playback is glitching out. Nothing is operating in synch, and none of the structures are quite 'correct,' being exaggerated echoes based on memory

-Might as well do I-no, too, though hers would be tricky. I could see most of it being shrouded in a veil of fog, being something not even she knows the true meaning of. Maybe it's in some sort of big fancy bottle, with the impression that it's going to be released and fulfill some grand potential someday, but in its present form it exists confined and limited. If you listen closely, sometimes you can hear something thumping against the walls...

#wheeee #ask #dizzy #sin kiske #raven #axl low #I-no #guilty gear

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ghuleh-witch · 4 months

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And We Are Tied As One Eternally

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explicit Warnings: (For Future Chapters) NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, mentions of past abuse and domestic violence, references to suicide Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x OFC Characters: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia, OFC Additional Tags: soft!dom Copia, eventual smut, developing relationship, no beta reader Chapter Word Count: 3720 Summary: Ellie Moran just wanted to make a new life for herself. Running to escape the people in her past, she ends up in a small town in the middle of nowhere that happens to be home to a Satanic church. She never expected her life to change again after she started attending the public masses at said church.

Ao3

Chapters: 1/?

Chapter One

“How do you even dress for mass at a Satanic church?” Ellie Moran said to herself as she stared into her closet. She wasn’t even sure why she was going to begin with. Ever since she saw a grown man in the coffee shop throw a fit over a flyer for the Ministry of Ghost, a Satantic church located on the outskirts of town, she’d been curious. The flyer was advertising public mass times for the next month. After watching the middle-aged man crinkle the flyer up and toss it in the trash, Ellie retrieved it and took it home. It was now lying on her vanity as smoothed out as she could make it.

If the church was causing such an uproar among the locals, Ellie knew she had to see what it was all about.

It had been two months since she moved to this new town—two months since she flipped her life upside down to be herself, live how she wanted to live, and finally escape. It had been two very long and lonely months though. Besides her job at the small bookstore on the corner of her street, she didn’t leave her apartment. There wasn’t much to do in the town, and the organizations she checked out, such as the women’s club, were filled with overly chipper, old women who would sneer at the tattoos that covered her arm. Ellie never intended to move to such a small town. She only moved there because it was the last place anyone would think to look for her.

She felt pathetic. At 30 years old she was starting over completely. She had no friends, no significant other, no degree or skills, and was working at a bookstore barely making enough to get by.

Ellie pulled a black skater dress out of her closet and looked it over, deciding if it was appropriate to wear to a church service. “It’s a satanic church, I don’t think they’re going to care what I wear,” she said to herself and shrugged, grabbing a dark green cardigan to wear over it. “Good enough” She slipped her feet into a pair of combat boots and looked in the mirror to finish her makeup and hair. She squeezed some mousse into the palm of her hand and scrunched it into her shoulder-length, dark blonde hair to help bring out her natural waves. She fixed her eyeliner and put on her favorite necklace; a pointed, wire-wrapped black tourmaline crystal before grabbing her bag and her car keys.

Her ancient Ford Focus sat mostly unused behind her apartment building, and thankfully, after surviving the drive across the country, it got her up to the church in one piece. She parked in the visitors’ lot and walked up the stoned pathway to the entrance. The church was huge and made of stone. Ellie knew at one point it must have been a Christian church. She could see faint outlines of crosses that used to be displayed on the building that were replaced with inverted crucifixes and pentagrams.

At the entrance there was a person, Ellie thought they might be a man but she couldn’t be sure, dressed all in black with something that looked like a modified gas mask with little horns on their head.

“Visitor?” They asked when Ellie approached.

“Er-Yea-I saw the flyer—”

“Straight down the hall, the large black doors on the left. Can’t miss it,” they said in a bored voice.

“Thanks,” Ellie said, entering into the building. She was in awe at all the marble and stained glass. There was so much natural light in the atrium and it created a warm and welcoming environment. It was beautiful and not what she was expecting. She had a vision of walking into some stifling hot building with black drapes all around and only candlelight to see by.

She found the door the person at the front told her to look for and went through. Inside was the sanctuary. It wasn’t as big as the ones she’d seen in Catholic churches, but it was just as beautiful. Stained glass windows lined the room and dark-stained pews sat among stone columns facing the pulpit. The room was mostly filled with men in black monk robes and women in black habits. There were less than a dozen people in street clothes like she was.

Ellie took a seat at the end of a pew in the back of the sanctuary. She wrung her fingers nervously as she looked around at everyone talking to one another. Once the sound of an organ filled the room, everyone began to quiet down. A procession of people entered the room from a side door near the front of the space. They were dressed in red and black robes and looked like the pictures of cardinals she’d seen at the Vatican. They took seats in the front two pews.

After the cardinals, three older men in nice suits and black and white skull paint enter followed by a woman in a dark gray skirt and blazer. Behind her, an elderly man with skull paint, a walker, and an oxygen tank was escorted into the room by a woman in a habit. The five of them took seats in the chairs that lined one of the side walls and the woman took a place in a nearby pew.

The organ music died down and another man with black and white skull paint on his face entered. He was dressed in immaculate black robes with a golden “IV” encircled in a starburst pattern on his chest. He wore a black stole with gold skulls running down its length and the mitre on his head was shaped in what looked like bat wings. His eyes, one of them a brilliant white, scanned the sanctuary, giving little nods to people he seemed to know sitting in the pews, and then his eyes settled on her.

She couldn’t take her eyes off his. It felt like he was staring right into the dark, deep depths of her soul. It was like a wave of electricity washed over her, making her sit up straight under his gaze. She could have sworn the faintest smirk formed on his lips before he turned his attention from her and back to the crowd as a whole.

Ellie didn’t know what was said during the sermon. She couldn’t help but stare at the man she now knew as Papa Emeritus IV after he introduced himself to the new people in the sanctuary. She stood whenever everyone else stood, kneeled when they all kneeled and attempted to sing the hymns that were sung. Then it was time for communion. Ellie stayed seated while everyone got in line. She watched as one by one people walked up to Papa, knelt in front of him as he said a few words and placed a communion wafer in their mouth, and then took a sip of wine from a goblet being held by one of the men in the nice suits before Papa made the sign of the inverted cross and they returned to their seat.

She noticed more than once his eyes flicked to her, and Ellie couldn’t help but squirm in her seat as though she had just gotten in trouble. Was she supposed to be standing in line with everyone else? She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to take communion. She wasn’t a member of the church and she wasn’t sure if she needed to do anything beforehand to be able to take communion. In the Baptist church she grew up in, one couldn’t take communion until they accepted Jesus as their savior and became a church member. Did she need to believe in Satan and be a member of the church to take communion here?

Once communion finished and the closing words said, the woman in the gray suit stood and invited everyone to join them for a potluck lunch in the refectory. Ellie wasn’t planning on staying, but when her stomach growled, she followed a group of women across the hall to the refectory. She wasn’t going to turn down free food when all she had in her apartment was a box of cereal and a few packs of ramen. While everyone mingled with their plates of food, Ellie stood along the wall finishing up a small turkey and cheese slider. She tossed her paper plate in the trash and watched as everyone talked and laughed, feeling incredibly left out.

Just go up to someone and introduce yourself , she told herself. You’ll never make friends if you’re standing here like an idiot.

“You didn’t take communion.”

Ellie jumped a little, startled by the accented voice coming from beside her. She turned and saw the Papa Emeritus IV himself standing there. He was still dressed in the same black robes he wore during the service. He was mirte-less now and she could see his mousy brown hair, peppered with the lightest touches of gray. She thought he looked handsome and wondered what he looked like without the paint on his face.

“I didn’t know if I was allowed to,” Ellie said, feeling his eyes stare into her gray ones once more. “I-uh-I’ve never been here before.”

“ Sí , I know,” he replied, holding out a hand to her. “Papa Emeritus the fourth, head of the clergy. And for future reference, anyone can take communion here. Eh, it’s more of a mockery of the Christian communion than anything of significance. What is your name, cara ?”

“Ellie Moran,” she said, shaking his gloved hand, the leather warm and soft against her palm. She thought she saw something in his eyes light up when she said her name.

“And what brings you to our ministry, Ellie?”

“Curiosity,” she answered honestly. “I saw someone throwing a fit over your flyer posted in the coffee shop, and well, I got curious. I’m new to the area and haven’t…found a place I fit in yet.” She thought she sounded so pathetic as she talked and wished she never said anything.

“How long have you lived here?” Papa asked with interest.

“Only two months,” she said.

“And how do you like it?”

Ellie shrugged. “It’s fine,” she answered. “The town is boring but it’s better than where I was.”

Papa was about to say something when the woman in the gray skirt and blazer approached him. “Cardi, we need to talk,” she said, seeming to not notice Ellie.

“Okie dokie, sister,” Papa responded before looking back to Ellie. “I’m sorry to leave you. Perhaps you will come to our next mass?”

Ellie nodded and watched him walk away with the woman and felt very alone again. Frowning, she slipped out of the dining hall and made her way back to the front entrance and her car, cursing herself that she didn’t talk to anyone else.

As she drove back into town and to her apartment and promised herself she’d go to mass again and next time, she’d talk to someone. XXX

Copia returned to the refectory a few minutes after Sister Imperator pulled him aside to talk to him about his sermon. His eyes scanned the room looking for Ellie. He frowned when he didn’t see her and turned to the ghoul standing near the door. “Did the woman in the green sweater leave?” He asked Aether.

“She did,” Aether answered. “A few minutes ago. She looked…sad.”

“Hmmm, thank you, Aether,” Copia said turning back to the rest of the people in the refectory. He had noticed her in the sanctuary sitting by herself in the back. His first thought was that she was striking. There was something about her that captured his attention and wanted to get to know her more. It was almost as if he was being drawn to her by an unseen force. He was a bit disappointed to find that she left already, not that he was expecting her to be waiting for him to come back. He hoped that she would come to the next mass. Next time he’d get to know her better. XXX

A few days later, Ellie was staring at the Satanic Bible on the bookshelf at her work. She didn’t often get to stock books in the spirituality section, but today she got to and the book caught her eye. She thought back on the mass she had attended just three days prior. She couldn’t remember what Papa was speaking about, but she could remember how he looked at her and how kind he seemed to be when she spoke to him briefly afterward.

But those eyes, she couldn’t get those eyes out of her head.

She stocked the books on Celtic Paganism in her arms and turned back to the Satanic Bible. She picked it up and flipped through it; it couldn’t hurt to learn something before she went to mass again that weekend.

“If it were my choice, I’d burn this whole section.”

Ellie turned to see her supervisor standing there with a stack of Bibles on the cart he was pushing. Charles was a larger man with a ruddy face and balding head. Ellie didn’t care for him. He constantly talked about his hunting trips and how his wife was the greatest thing since sliced bread. He could be an asshole at times and often stuck her with the shittiest tasks in the store, and because she was a people pleaser, just never complained and just did as she was told.

“Oh?” Ellie said.

“Freedom of religion is a joke in this country. This isn’t religion. This is evil, satanic bullshit,” he said glaring at the books. “But I don’t own the store so I don’t get a say in what’s stocked here. Maybe one day.” He pushed the cart passed her into the next aisle to stock the Bibles leaving Ellie standing there with a frown on her face.

Later that evening, she sat on her ugly burnt orange couch with her laptop open on her lap. She spent the last hour scouring the internet for information on the Ministry of Ghost. There wasn’t a whole lot. Their website looked like something that came out of the early internet in 1999, but there was a link to a YouTube channel entitled Ghost.

There were music videos and videos from concerts on the page of a band performing metal and rock songs. Ellie fell down a rabbit hole from there and learned that Ghost was a side project of the Ministry to help spread their message. Over the years they’ve been active, they were led by a few different men, the previous Papas, and their band of ghouls. The music was good, and Ellie ended up adding a few songs to her Spotify playlist. She then saw the videos of Papa Emeritus IV when he was still just a cardinal.

“Holy shit,” Ellie muttered as she watched him perform on stage while wearing a red cassock. The man could sing, she gave him that much, but the way he moved enthralled her. She even saw a video of his ascension from cardinal to Papa. At one point she thought she was drooling on her keyboard. There was no way that the man in the video and the one she met over the weekend were the same person. She had to snap her laptop shut because she didn’t think it was right to be lusting after what was the equivalent of the pope, even if he was satanic.

XXX

The next public mass was two weeks later, and Ellie was the first of the visitors to get there. She was dressed in a similar outfit as before; same black dress and boots, but she switched out her green cardigan for a blue one. She nodded to the man in the modified gas mask at the door and made her way to the sanctuary. As she stood in the doorway, she scanned the room, determined to sit by someone she could talk to. When she saw a woman in a habit sitting alone near the front, Ellie made her way to her. She stood at the end of the pew and cleared her throat a little.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Ellie asked when the woman looked over to her.

The woman smiled and patted the seat next to her. “Please,” she said. She had dark brown bangs poking out from her veil and bright hazel eyes. “I’m Sister Gemma, but please, just call me Gemma. No need for formalities.”

“Ellie,” Ellie said sliding into the pew.

“First time here?”

“Second. I came to the last public mass a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oooo,” Gemma cooed. “You’re the first second-timer we’ve had in a while. Most visitors don’t come back after their times time. You thinking about joining?”

“I don’t know,” Ellie answered truthfully. She hadn’t really thought about it. She agreed with the tenets of santanism, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to join the church just yet. “I don’t have to become a nun, do I? Are you a nun? I’m sorry I don’t know all the terminology.” She became flustered and hoped she wasn’t making too much of a fool of herself.

Gemma smiled kindly. “You’re fine. And yea, I’m kinda like a nun. The brothers and sisters here are called the Siblings of Din. And no, you don’t have to become a Sibling to join the church. There are a couple of non-sibling members here. Papa Terzo even had a townie for an assistant for a while.”

“Papa Terzo?” Ellie asked. She knew there were other Papas but she never heard the name before.

“Papa Emeritus the third. He was Papa Copia’s predecessor. It’s easier to say Papa and then their name instead of their whole title. It becomes a mouthful.”

Copia , Ellie thought, liking the sound of his name. She cleared her throat before speaking. “What would I have to do to join?”

“You’d need a sponsor. Everyone who is considering joining the ministry needs to be sponsored by an established member. We act as guides and teachers to help prepare you for membership here. If you consider joining, I’d love to be your sponsor. I have a good feeling about you.”

“I’ll thank about it,” Ellie said earnestly.

Gemma grinned. “I’ll give you my number after mass and you can let me know.”

Just as Ellie was about to say something else, the organ music started once more. Ellie watched the same procession of people enter the sanctuary, and when Copia stepped into the space, she saw his eyes search the sanctuary. His eyes found hers after a moment and his lips curved upward slightly, giving her a small nod of acknowledgment.

Ellie found herself smiling in return. She felt Gemma nudge her and saw the other woman had a look of delight on her face.

The service was very similar to the first one Ellie attended. The only difference this time was Gemma was whispering to her, explaining some of the things Copia was talking. Ellie tried to pay more attention this time, but she still found herself focused on Copia. He made her curious and she wanted to get to know who he was. She thought it was strange that she had these feelings. She never felt like this toward anyone before.

When it was once again time for communion, Gemma grabbed Ellie’s hand and pulled her into the line. Ellie remembered what Copia told her last time—that anyone could take communion, and it made her feel less nervous

“You don’t need to commit to anything.,” Gemma told Ellie. “Papa will say a little prayer in Latin as he puts the wafer in your mouth and you’ll say nema before you eat it and he does the sign of the inverted cross. Then Papa Terzo will offer you the chalice of wine to drink from. Same thing, he’ll say a quick prayer in Latin, you drink and say nema, and he makes the sign of the inverted cross. Then you stand and go back to your seat. Easy as pie.”

She stood behind Gemma and slowly moved as the line pushed forward. When Ellie realized she was next, she suddenly felt nervous. When she stepped up in front of Copia, he smiled.

“Glad to see you back, cara ,” he said.

She lowered herself to her kneels in front of him and tilted her head upward to look at him. She thought he suddenly looked as nervous as she felt, but then he was holding a communion wafer in his fingers and looking just as calm as before. He lowered his arm to serve her the wafer as he began saying something in Latin.

Ellie opened her mouth and he gently placed it on her tongue. Ellie had the desire to close her lips around the leather of his gloved fingers but kept herself from doing so. She swallowed the wafer. “Nema,” she said. She watched him make an inverted cross with his hands before taking a step to the side to allow one of the men in skull paint and a suit to step up to her.

“You’re a pretty thing,” Terzo said as he looked down at her with a smirk. He offered her the chalice and titled it for her to drink from. “That’s it, tesoro,” he cooed before saying his prayer in Latin.

“Nema,” Ellie replied after swallowing the sip of wine.

After he made the sign of the inverted cross Ellie stood and went back to her seat. “I think he was flirting with me,” she whispered to Gemma.

“Who?” Gemma asked with interest.

“Papa Terzo,” Ellie answered.

“Oh. He flirts with everyone. And I mean everyone,” Gemma said. “Why did it make you uncomfortable? If you tell him he won’t do it again.”

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t mind. I just wasn’t expecting it,” Ellie shrugged.

“I’m sorry I should have warned you,” Gemma responded. “You staying for the luncheon?”

Ellie thought it over for a second. She was enjoying Gemma’s company, and if Ellie stayed she could continue getting to know Gemma and maybe meet some other people.

And also maybe she’d get to talk to Copia again.

Translations:

Sí-yes Cara-dear/darling tesoro-treasure

#Ghost #the band Ghost #copia #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iv x oc #copia x oc #copia x ofc #papa emeritus x ofc #ghost fanfic #my fanfic #papa emeritus fanfic #copia fanfic #papa emeritus iv fanfic #awataoe

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krys-draws · 1 year

Text

✎. Abel | Lookism oc.

updated.

" ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ʷⁱᵗⁿᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵘʳᵈᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˡˡ ˢⁱˣ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ."

Name: Abel Guadez

Gender: Male

Age: N/A

Nationality: Filipino

Height: 177 cm

Birthdate: February 29

Relationships:

Unnamed mother — Alive

Unnamed father — Deceased

Love interest:

N/A

Status: Alive

Affiliation: HNH Group

Fighting style:

Arnis

Capoeira

Krav Maga

Appearance

Abel is a person of average appearance and height, standing 177 cm. He has unruly chocolate brown hair and honey yellow eyes. He has an inverted triangle body shape with dark, lean features. He sports a crucifix tattoo on the right side of his neck, a winged pelvic tattoo, and a dimple when he smiles. He is frequently seen donning sweatpants.

Personality

Abel frequently exhibits a carefree and playful attitude with his students, close friends, and coworkers but unsympathetic and heartless towards those that piss him off. He is also extremely perceptive and analytical, which allows him to express his thoughts more clearly. He is the type to remember subtle nuances and has an insanely good perception of individuals.

Background

Abel was born and raised in the Philippines into a lower middle class family. Due to the problems he causes, his parents used to argue about him. As a result, Abel's parents separated, and he moved in with his father to live in Korea.

But because of his temper—which was the cause of the misfortune he brings to people—his father struggled, frequently fell ill, and nearly lost his job. After a year and a half in Korea, Abel's father sadly passed away, leaving him in an orphanage where he often faced discrimination.

Abel left the orphanage months after residing there, and lived on the streets while looking for food and a place to stay. A few years after, when he was 16 years old, he was arrested for stabbing someone and was placed in juvenile detention.

Contrary to popular opinion, he was content in the detention center where he was sent as he was given a place to sleep and food to eat. Additionally, he won't have to worry about bringing misfortune and hurting the people there.

Sadly, despite everything he did to stay there, someone bailed him out as a fictitious guardian and later hired Abel to work for him.

Trivia

Hasn't finished elementary school.

Some of his clothes are from James.

He continues to send his mother money (anonymously) whenever he is able to.

Teaches at J-high.

Work buddies with Rai-han ( @hakkuto ‘s oc)

Kwon siblings’ ( @amayochew ‘s ocs) ambassador.

Calls Dan-bi and Byung-ho ( @dyfavorable ‘s ocs) “his kids”.

Gossip king 🤭👑 jk

#krysanthees #krys's oc #original character #digital art #artwork #lookism oc #lookism #Abel Guadez #reference sheet #biography #manhwa #webtoon

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insipid-drivel · 1 year

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slow inhale

Inverted crosses and crucifixes are not “iconic symbols of Satanism”!!!

The above image? 100% holy. Totally canonical. Has absolutely NOTHING to do with Satan, Lucifer, or “The Devil”. It’s called the Petrine Cross aka The Cross of Saint Peter and is a symbol of piety, humility, deference, and martyrdom particularly to Jesus Christ (not necessarily his other canonical phases of existence) and his relationship with the Pope. It’s also one of the symbols most closely associated with The Pope.

It is one of the main reasons I can’t take exorcist and demon-themed horror movies seriously ever. Not because I’m a polytheistic soul-selling Bandrui (those things are true but they’re not why), but because it’s a continuity error! A hilarious one if you think about it! The demon is just showing how much the characters really don’t understand about the religion they’re espousing in the movie!

So, why would St. Peter be associated with something that, for all intents and purposes, we visually associate with something that is backwards from Christianity or whatever “holiness” means? Because, like Jesus, St. Peter was also crucified, or at least that is the version of St. Peter’s story that is considered most canonical. In truth, stories about St. Peter that still exist date back only as late as 200 AD with the apocryphal “Acts of Peter”. Whether or not the upside down part of the story was canonical hasn’t been determined with any real certainty, but it was the version told by this guy:

Origen of Alexandria! Origen was largely considered one of the greatest early Christian luminaries, scholars, philosophers, poets, and all-around book nerds and is the primary source for the whole “St. Peter was crucified upside down” story, inspiring Renaissance masterworks like this little number by Caravaggio:

“Crucifixion Of Saint Peter”

Origen’s popularized telling of the tragic demise of St. Peter makes a big deal about the story-canonical feature that St. Peter insisted upon being crucified upside-down because he didn’t feel worthy to emulate the same, now-iconic crucifixion of Jesus.

So how did the Petrine Cross become a symbol associated with Satanism?

France.

Well, not all of it, but France was involved. In the early 19th century, a cult leader by the name of Eugène Vintras insisted that he was the reincarnation of the Prophet Elijah. Aside from that, he also practiced necromancy (which is the art of cavorting with DEMONS, not corpses for the love of my blackened, shriveled occultist heart) and was commonly seen wearing robes and symbols depicting the Petrine Cross.

In comes This Guy:

Éliphas Lévi was another famous 19th century French Occultist (after leaving the Catholic priesthood when he was in his 20′s to get drunk and listen to metal or something) who took one look at, and presumably all surviving sketches of Eugène Vintras, saw his regalia of Petrine crosses, and wrote the literally-damning words that for wearing his inverted crosses, Vintras’ satanic leanings were obvious.

After Éliphas Lévi wrote about Vintras’ wearing of the Petrine Cross and Satanic preferences, the inverted cross gradually became more and more associated with anti-religion movements and, of course, Satanism. The final nail in the Apocryphal Iconography Crucifixion came in the 1960′s-1980′s with the dawn of the horror movie franchise and the rise of the Satanic Panic, a mass hysteria movement that had to be debunked by the FBI where young people and children were convinced by their therapists during hypnotherapy sessions that they had been the subjects of Satanic rituals at the hands of the parents/guardians at very young ages that never happened, destroyed families, left countless people traumatized. FBI agent Kenneth Lanning went on to publish what’s commonly referred to as “The Lanning Report” to debunk the claims of abuse and lambast the therapist that started the panic in the first place.

If you want to really rock like a Satanist, consider donating stuff like feminine hygiene products to your local Planned Parenthood ;)

#inverted cross #petrine cross #catholic history #occult history #satanic panic #occultism #catholicism #satanism #menstruatin with satan

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hundchentanque · 8 months

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This post was shared amongst a discord server after I watched a Elden Ring analysis video from Quelaag over on youtube and twitter

Opening statement: As the most recent game directed by Hidetaka Myazaki, Elden Ring has near-mastered the art of taking Catholic and Christian imagery and using it's evocative nature to enhance its own story rather than simply touch on the cultural zeitgeist of christianity. In this infodump, I will touch specifically on Elden Ring's use of the crucifix and how it differs from a lot of uses in cultures more heavily impacted by christianity and the catholic church.

Necessary context: In the world of Elden Ring, there are gods. A LOT of gods. These gods exist in a horizontal pantheon where they balance each other out and vie for control of the human realm/material existence. I say control, but its more like take part in/have their own domains that eventually come and go. This is often done through the use of people who are connected to them called Empyreans. Empyreans can channel, and are influenced by the the connection to their respective god. The plot of the game begins when Marika (an Empyrean) decides to prolong her own age of rulership by breaking the balance of the pantheon and attempting to become the sole deity in charge. She goes so far as to break her own connection with the god she's connected to, sundering the natural cycles of the world in the process.

Main analysis: Images of Marika's crucifixion are found all over the game, with her specifically being crucified on one of arcs of the Elden Ring itself (Seen here).

However, this is not the only instance of divine crucifixion in the game. The rune of death is also in the shape of a more traditional cross. The lore of the rune of death states that the goddess of death was cast down and her rune was sealed inside of Marika's brother and confidante, Maliketh.

The framing of the lore (of a god being cast down and sealed) coupled with the only other prominent imagery of the cross in the the game, forms the foundation of my thesis: Elden Ring inverts the popular conception of the crucifixion from ascension, to suppression and punishment.

Within the nations touched by the colonizing efforts of both the Catholic and Protestant churches, the imagery of the cross has been baked into our minds. Even those to aren't christian recognize when the imagery of the Christ's crucifixion is alluded to or even used in a secular manner (Examples in film include Zack Snyder's superman and the Wachowski Sisters' Neo). In these films specifically, the crucifixion is used to elevate the sacrifice of the characters to being analogous with Christ's. This also lends to the secondary interpretation where the use of the crucifixion means that those characters are elevated to a christlike domain of importance. Thus, while the sacrifice is usually shown, it's their ascension to christhood that gets more dramatic attention.

Elden Ring inverts this trope by having crucifixion only appear under the context of a divine will or agent sealing away another. The reasoning behind the sealing vary from character to character, but the consistency of the outcome means that Elden Ring puts crucifixion back into its original Roman context: as punishment.

This re-contextualization of crucifixion-as-punishment means that the symbol feels more original and doesn't break suspension of disbelief. I'm sure many reading this can attest to being really into a character or plot only to be taken out of it through the use of Christ imagery. This also means that it allows us to reexamine the symbol and its uses within other fiction. Take horror for example, there is the very recognizable trope of a random person or character being crucified by an evil cult or other such deviant religious organization. While in the context of horror the crucifixion is more visceral, the undercurrent of sacrifice and ascension still remains.

Even visually, Marika is not framed as a "heroic sufferer" while she is crucified. She is crushed under the weight of her god's will, not elevated to meet it.

Conclusion: Elden Ring's use of the crucifix as a symbol counters many of the popular patterns of its usage, instead of being a symbol of ascension it is a a symbol of sealing and confinement, instead of being a symbol of greater sacrifice it is a symbol of punishment from something greater. In this way, Elden Ring uses specific biblical and christian imagery without feeling like it falls into well worn tropes. This leads to a fantasy setting which feels quite original, but is incredibly understandable and recognizable at some base cultural level.

#hundpost #elden ring #marika #elden ring posting #elden ring lore #soulsborne #fromsoftware #maliketh the black blade #rune of death #crucifiction #lore analysis

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