epsill

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Chimera Constantine breakdown, refs & nods mega-post

Welcome to the master post of behind the scenes for the Chimera Constantine comics. In the style of the Sons of Mars ones I made, this post archives our research and process. So here we go! This will be a mix of showing references and personal anecdotes for how we cobbled this project together.

I'll be repeating some things I've mentioned across blog posts because I like having all this info in one place.

So! There's a lot of ways to go about re-interpretation and re-imagining a story, and one of my techniques is to not get overly attached to research. While it's good to be informed about a character, sometimes knowing every little thing about them can make one hesitant to innovate and try something different with them. So I'm purposely mindful about how much material I research.

But how does something like that work when the character in question has only 2-3 total appearances, one arc, and a quick revisit several years later? We play twin telephone.

For this project, Cin read the Hellblazer Golden Boy arc and vaguely retold it to Jes, who would then write a story based on assumptions and half-remembered memories of the story. Letting personal experience, influences and bias fill the blanks. We're inspired by how Naoki Urusawa wrote Pluto based on his mis-remembered memories of reading Astro Boy. Also when I was a kid I used to look at book covers and summaries and make up a story based on the limited information I was given. It's fun for me. Part of why I love obscure characters so much is that the lack of content about them lets the reader fill in the blanks about their lives and try telling new stories about them that aren't constrained by a saturated canon.

The original Golden Boy arc written by Jamie Delano (#39-40) is about John Constantine coming to the realization that he strangled his twin in the womb. After taking some 'shrooms, John...manifests into another reality, it's very surreal. There, John meets his twin from a universe where John had died, and his brother gets to live. The twin (taking on the name John Constantine, we'll call him Golden Mage to keep it simple) is John's opposite in every better way. They decide to merge their souls to restore...the universe. You kind of had to be there.

John's twin returns many issues later (#249) to wrap up a different arc, there he and the story are written by Andy Diggle.

The first panel of our full comic references the tarot cards John gets from his reading with Zed.

This panel is a direct reference to this scene where John sees his own shadow on a curtain after his reading with Zed. I like the imagery of this arc, even when the dialogue describing twins is really cringe. We changed it to a mirror to reinforce the mirror imagery throughout the comic. Speaking of which...!

Through Jes' reworking of the story, mirrors were streamlined to be the main way alternate universes were portrayed in the story. They'd be the main motif that paralleled the twins too. In issue #249 of Hellblazer, John uses the mirror to confront his twin who resides within himself after their soul-merge years ago.

The line "He's so beautiful, he frightens me." is spoken by a doctor witnessing the Golden Boy's birth in his universe. We repurposed it to be John's dialogue for when he's describing the man he sees in the mirror.

John's twin uses a sacrifice involving these candles to summon his sickly twin. Jes repurposed the use of candles to a magic salt circle that contains spirits like the Golden Boy (he's nicknamed "Goldie" in our take).

The Golden Boy! Even though he died in the womb, he's portrayed as a boy. Probably because a floating fetus wasn't what they were going for. We wanted to give him a distinct look that foreshadows how much he would grow his hair out. I like that his mouth isn't visible! We use the shape of his eyes and posing to get across how he's feeling. It gives him a vacant-toddler-stare I find really endearing.

We made some minor adjustments to the Golden Mage's design. Initially, we followed his canonical pulled back long hair. But since he was a challenging character to emote when we had one less arm to work with, we decided to part his hair so that it could carry how he's feeling. I like when I can get it to cover a part of his face for intense moments! If it was animated, it would 100% be expressive Ghibli hair.

Our main goal for Golden Mage's characterization is to make him feel like his own person. In the original arc, he's less of a sibling and more of an au of John Constantine himself. He doesn't get his own name. Despite gloating about having a better and more fulfilling love life than John, he also shared the exact same love interests John does. Being a twin is less about a family story and more a vehicle to talk about self hatred and potential here. Which isn't fair to the individuality of the characters!

(note, this is not how the panels look in the og comic, I've rearranged them so that they display on this post better)

So we characterized the Golden Mage to still have his canon charisma (albeit with the dialogue toned way down from his original appearance), but to have a thinly veiled temper under all that bravado to foil his con-man trickster brother. The Golden Mage was vaguely described as not being particularly attached to the love he receives. Golden Mage is also dismissive of his womb twin's death, saying it's something he shouldn't grieve since he never really knew him. We reinterpreted these lines as him being in denial over his brother's death, thinking himself as above his own feelings of grief.

Also as a tiny note, we kept the Golden Mage's name ambiguous to keep with the vibe of the original comic, but in my mind I headcanon his full name to be Marigold "Goldie" Constantine. The yellow flower is culturally associated with prosperity, but also grief and jealousy. It's perfect for him! So we made references to the flower in the cover and first panels of the comic. I also headcanon that as a kid he called John Constantine's ghost "Johnny".

My influences for how this whole beginning meeting scene is staged and played out is E.M Carroll's When I Arrived At The Castle. The "animated" panels of Golden Mage looking back at John and breaking through the mirror is a direct call back to the keyhole sequence in that comic! The premise of daydreaming about how your life could have been and not realizing that you're staring at an alternate universe is loosely inspired by Junji Ito's Hellstar Remina. I really like the concept of staring into the unknown and then something sentient staring back from that. "What if our day dreams are just other realities we're dreaming of" kind of deal. I don't see that sort of thing in the saturation of multiverse stories these days.

Next reference is the Dead Boy's Heart! While I like that this story's its own thing, I was surprised it wasn't linked to John's dead brother in any way. It felt thematically relevant, so we brought it over as a device to trap Goldie while the brothers merge souls.

Twins can be positioned in a bunch of ways in the womb. I think canonically, John and Golden Mage were positioned like they are in the cover for Hellblazer #39, ideal for strangling I guess! We changed it to echo the motion of yin and yang. I do think the inclusion of yin and yang is a little cringey in the original comic even though I get what it's going for (balance and all that, it's just kind of simplistic to the philosophy). But I do like it as a way to echo card imagery we established in this comic. We combined the imagery of the tarot cards featured in the Golden Boy arc and King/Queen/Joker playing cards. So it felt right to bring back that whole upside down twins in the womb thing. Special fact, this is how my twin and I were vibing in the womb.

The scene where the twins hit Ctrl + E to merge layers! It's a pretty iconic pose! I like how their heads peaked out of the panels so I brought it back for our comic too. In our version, the twins fail to merge their souls entirely. In the revisit to the Golden Boy character in the comics in issue #249, it's revealed that the merging "failed" in some way, trapping the Golden Mage within John's soul.

For John's ghost counterpart from Golden Mage's universe we took Dave McKean's portrayal of him very literally haha. I know he doesn't literally have one eye, but we thought it gave him a really distinct look for us to stylize. We decided to keep the ghost kids consistent with no mouth and vacant pupil-less stares. We gave ghost kid!John a sort of bedsheet ghost form to contrast against Goldie.

Speaking of one eye! That's another motif we decided to emphasize throughout the comic. It's not in the source material at all, but we liked it as a way to both hint at chimerism and visualize how the two brothers serve as incomplete halves of each other. Special fact! Heterochromia can show up in chimera twins. Of course in the case of identical twins like the Constantines, their chimerism isn't as detectable since they have identical sets of DNA. But! It's still fun to stylize in a supernatural way. For our take we show the glowing golden eye as the soul of the Golden Boy manifesting in his brother. I like to think that John takes advantage of how undetectable his chimerism is to have an upper hand in any soul-related deals he makes.

This stylized heterochromia is inspired by @ratblazer 's Constantine design! I made a subtle nod to it with young punk John's make up echoing the scar in her design too.

For John's dynamic with Goldie the Golden Boy, we built the conflict of the story around making him doubt his attachment to his dead brother. There's a line of dialogue in the revisited Golden Boy arc about John needing to "let go", so we repurposed it into the Golden Mage assuring him that his attachments make him weak.

Even though the Golden Boy doesn't show up nearly as much as I think he should in canon, John has been shown to be really sentimental about him. John wants to be the Golden Boy's friend because he's so beautiful John mistook him for Jesus as a kid. Canonically, the Golden Boy ghost rejects John's friendship, likely still not over the whole strangulation in the womb thing. It still breaks John's heart though, he's a sobbing mess about being owned by a dead kid.

We changed this whole dynamic! The twin murder in the womb felt very X-men Xavier vs Cassandra Nova, and it's hard to get behind babies having that much motivation before they're even born. In our version, Goldie is a vanishing twin absorbed by John, the sickly twin. Infants being accidentally strangled by umbilical cords does occur in reality. However, we changed their origin to being that of Vanishing Twin syndrome because it was more specific for the ideas we were going for.

I feel this crucial change is more in tune with the overall themes of Hellblazer. John always cheats death at a cost. People are constantly sacrificed for John's continued survival. But the Golden Boy's case would be special, because he sacrificed himself out of love before he even knew what it means to love. Unlike the other ghosts that haunt John Constantine, Goldie isn't resentful of John. I think it makes more sense for the Golden Boy to be attached to John because he's all the Golden Boy's ever known. As a chimera twin, John is like a horcrux holding his brother's soul in his body. This reaffirms survivor's guilt to be something John experiences since his birth.

Canonically, although the Golden Mage initially feels sorry for the ghost of John that haunts him, he rejects John as well. John's ghost in canon is like a nuisance that keeps bothering Golden Mage. There's an instance mentioned of Golden Mage trying to recreate his murder in the womb? It's cryptically written. But Golden Mage does keep using the phrase "banished" to describe his brother.

We took this and made it so that he performed an exorcism on himself to remove his supernatural chimera-bond to John's ghost. The Golden Boy arc is pretty unique when compared with how saturated multiverse stories are nowadays since it doesn't share the science fiction sensibilities. Grief comes up a lot in multiverse stuff, in these stories characters use parallel universes to save a loved one as they're bargaining with their loss. For our take, we wanted a character to use the alternate universes to hurt and lash out at the loved one they're grieving. I pulled influence from Everything Everywhere All At Once's concept of a self destructive character on a search for the one familial connection who could understand what they're feeling.

References! The first panel is a nod to issue #36 where John is sleeping with Marj. We changed her to Kit. The second panel is a direct callback to issue #67, an iconic visual for his break up angst era.

Trivia; this page was added at the last minute! I needed something to bridge the birthday cupcake page and the final panel of Golden Mage's breakdown, so I linked them through candles! In this weird case, I reference my own work! This is a callback to Birthdays, a short comic we made for John Constantine's canonical birthday. It sets the premise for his relationship with Goldie based on the habits and experiences of survivor twins. The pages referencing this comic are meant to re-establish that John shares meals with his twin.

I wanted this page to feel like John's lighting an incense for his dead brother, and to contrast it with the snuffed out candles from Golden Mage's flashback. The candle has a yellow and blue intertwined spiral pattern that calls back to the color of John and Golden mage's dialogue boxes and speech bubbles, along with how twisted they look when they merged. Implying that in this universe, they're together in some way. I really wish I did this intentionally but it was by complete coincidence of making the cupcake pink and balancing it out with pastel primaries. But I sure can acknowledge how cool it looks symbolically okay???

The dialogue here is a nod to John's monologue in issue #19 where John is comforting Simon Hughes. It's re-contextualized a bit to be about sharing grief together in our comic.

This is a really goofy one but- since Golden Mage is supposed to be the fully realized potential of John, we thought that he would have a successful career as a musician and singer where John didn't. I don't think Golden Mage would be a punk singer though, he probably does something he'd consider more elevated.

BUT-! In the 30th Anniversary edition of Hellblazer, Sting (the guy John's appearance is based on) wrote an introduction for the edition while roleplaying as the Golden Boy. Which is nuts. The Anniversary edition basically canonized Sting as being a Constantine variant in our universe with the soul of Golden Boy. Sting, as Golden Boy, describes himself as a musician and singer too. Absolutely bonkers for Sting to throw me a bone this late in the game since no one's touched this character in ages.

Another E.M Carroll influenced panel sequence. This is from the digital comic Out of Skin.

So that brings us to the end of the comic! We've had the ideas for this comic cooking for some time, and it's people's continued interest in our takes on these characters that gave us the chance to finally bring the story together.

I'm very fascinated by the Golden Boy story, not because it's particularly strong compared to other stories in Hellblazer's run, but because its intriguing premise is bogged down by its surreal take on typical Evil Twin tropes. og Hellblazer's strength was always in its raw humanity. John Constantine's character countered the sensational spectacle of his superhero contemporaries. He may be able to outwit a vampire but he's can't fight back against being brutalized by the police. In one of his most iconic arcs, he finds out he has cancer- not because of any supernatural shenanigans, but because he literally smokes too much. In another arc, John's long time girlfriend breaks up with him, and he lashes out by saying the cruelest things to her. When he hears that his abusive dad is murdered, John still cries about it.

I think the Golden Boy arc and the retcon that followed his brief return actively undermines what makes Hellblazer special. Suddenly John's having X-Men-level evil twin escapades in the womb. Suddenly, merging with his twin will help save the universe. Suddenly, it's not smoking that caused John to have cancer! It was actually because he merged with his twin and his twin became the cancer from inside him! Suddenly it wasn't a moment of lashing out that caused John to say all those cruel things to his ex upon their break up, that was actually the Golden Boy controlling him from within, so you see it's not really his fault! Also what followed the break up was extra devastating because of the Golden Boy, somehow.

Often I hear in fandom that when you change a character too much from their canon counterpart it's basically "just an oc" at that point, but in the case of characters who get to be re-imagined and passed through many creative teams, I think that kind of mindset is deeply limiting for transformative work. The line I draw between "just an oc" and an interpretation is if the changes involved engage with their source material in any way or if they're just superficial. Big changes and 180 flips can work because they still respond to the history of said character. It's why we see that kind of thing in canon a lot. These characters are inherently built to be passed through many hands in meaningful ways to varying degrees of success. So I hope that by showing all this process that goes behind big changes to a canon character, people better understand what can go into transformative creativity.

Our thesis for this re-imagining is to take what makes Hellblazer special and re-examine the arc that we felt undermined that. Despite the grief John has for many characters in his cast, mourning isn't brought up at all in the Golden Boy arc. It's dismissed by the characters in narration, and the Golden Mage himself isn't even recognized as a sibling by the narrative, no matter how many times John calls him "bro".

Survivor twin grief over dead womb twins especially is a real thing that's often dismissed because in the words of canon Golden Mage himself "I couldn't mourn for those I'd never known". This is not true to the experience of twins. They play with and remember each other from spending 9 months growing in a tight space together. So when one of them doesn't make it out with the other, that survivor feels a grief they can't comprehend. It can manifest in unresolved trauma, commitment issues, and survivor's guilt. All things that feel so relevant to the themes of John Constantine's character. I think that by integrating the real lived experiences of survivor twins, the Golden Boy arc could've been one the most human and personal parts of the original Hellblazer run. It's could've been a story that helped a community of people so rarely validated in their grief feel seen.

I just read that Manco's and what I had in mind were exactly the same

also, the decision made in all his engines to draw constantine's shitty father the exact same way they drew constantine for the rest of the comic has not left my mind since last night and it's eating my brain.

GRATUITOUSLY DETAILED DISLIKES

muse name.   john constantine.

least favorite nickname. call him any variation of 'johnny' or 'johnny boy' when he already doesn't like you and he's spitting in your eye. he's learned to own 'gutter mage', but if you're rich and you're saying it to denigrate, you're now on a list.

least favorite season. winter. he's not a fan of christmas, and since his sister died he doesn't really have anywhere to go for the holidays, so that whole block of time is just an ugly mess of don't-think-about-it for him.

least favorite  —  hot or cold? hot. he layers his clothing, and there's only so many layers you can take off when it's hot out before you're simply stuck with the unbearable. also, connotations re: hell that have left a sense-memory so deep he's never climbing out of it.

least favorite holiday. halloween. uninformed pissants playing with fire around every corner, and every year it seems like he's the only fireman in town.

least favorite food.   deep-fried anything that's not a pastry. he's not a fan of all the grease and the oil.

least favorite flavor.   artificial grape flavoring. it's just slimier cough medicine to him.

least favorite drink. american sprite, and clamato.

least favorite scent.  blood, rotting meat, hospital smell, and death. really helpful in his line of work, where all are constant.

least favorite sound. the buzzing of an electronically-locked door being opened makes him feel aggressively unsafe. also, someone talking out their ass about shite they don't understand.

least favorite tv shows. any kind of kardashian, flaunting-our-wealth reality show, and bloody doctor phil. the levels of out-of-touch and quackery drive him up the wall.

least favorite area of school. recess. he was pretty good academically and liked to learn, it was the bullies who were the problem.

least favorite aspect of their job. the tough calls that he has to make on his own and stand by afterwards. he doesn't sacrifice friends and betray people's trust because it's easy, he does it because he has to. he keeps doing it because he's the only one who will.

least favorite trait in others.    three-way tie between blustering cowardice, carelessness towards other people's lives/wellbeing, and sick enjoyment in kicking people when they're down who don't deserve it. he'll go far out of his way to teach some selfish wanker a lesson in a little fucking empathy.

least favorite place.   hospitals. bad enough to be stuck where he can't smoke, but every doctor he meets wants to experiment with his damn demon blood, too.

least favorite thing to talk about. the events with rosacarnis. he lost his memories, the mental equivalent of forty years, his bodily autonomy, and his sister in one fell swoop. there will never be a way to package all that up into one neat conversation, and the pity it incurs makes him sick.

least favorite thing about themselves. he can't turn off the hellblazer. his reputation is what keeps him alive, and maintaining that reputation is a full-time job. even if he settles for a few years, keeps his head down, leads a quiet life, someone or something will find him, or he'll find someone or something. there's no life of magic without hurting people, and there's no life without magic anymore. he's trapped himself by trying to survive.

least favorite daily chore.   taking out the trash. he's forgetful and he's squeamish, which tends to leave him with a rank mess that takes forever to remove between bouts of gagging.

least favorite type of clothing. polyester, or anything overly restrictive.

least favorite superpower. mind-reading, truth-compelling, or hyper-empathy. his lies are his armor; the more people peel back the layers, the more they see all he's gone through in life and how truly vulnerable he is at heart, and the last thing he wants is to be treated like a victim. he'll fight tooth and nail against anyone trying to strip those defenses from him, and he'll fight dirty.

least favorite thing about falling in love. knowing it'll end ugly and it'll be his fault, but not being able to stop either the falling in love or the ending.

least favorite thing about death. the pain. he's never been good with pain.

A very nice psychoanalysis and personality analysis, it reflects the character very well, I loved it

— BASICS: JOHN CONSTANTINE.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE?    slightly taller than the average at 6'0" even, but he tends to slouch and lounge a lot so he often looks shorter when standing, taller when sitting.

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT? yeah, mostly. considering hell seems to have something in the weetabix making every demon fucking massive, he wouldn't mind an extra couple of inches so he's not always being intimidating at chin-level, but he's pretty confident in his appearance and doesn't care much for something he can't change.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE? soft, curly, natural blond with light grey (which will eventually be white) coming in around the temples & part. usually just long enough to droop into his eyes when left un-gelled.

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING?    depends on his mental health, but usually yes. he's got hair masks, a bunch of different pomades & mousse, and he often shaves his chest & plucks nose hairs. he's got a multi-step skincare routine, is not averse to putting on makeup, and tends to experiment with different colognes in combination with whatever scented products he puts in his hair. in a low period, it's all charcoal soap + 3-in-1 shampoo-conditioner, slap some water on his face and go, but on average he spends a decent bit of time on upkeep.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK? not much personally these days, and not so much cares. it's more that he's aware of how his looks can make an impression under specific sets of circumstances (be it a good or bad impression), and hyperaware that with his current reputation, he might need to make a fairly big impression at any given time. it's usually important to his survival that others perceive him the way he wants them to and he knows that all too well, but at a personal level, he couldn't give less of a shit whether someone side-eyes him on the street as a fop or he's dressed down for dressed-up company.

— PREFERENCES.

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS? bit of a toss-up, but indoors. he often feels too exposed if he's outside for too long.

▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE? he doesn't particularly mind either, but finds that rain is usually thematically reflective of his mood.

▸ FOREST OR BEACH? the beach. he doesn't swim, or like sand, but it has good memories for him.

▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS? precious metals, they have utility; they can be shaped to serve a purpose, and signify things like love and commitment. he's seen people do some truly heinous shit for gems that'll just sit in a vault or on a shelf somewhere later, doing fuckall; he can't bring himself to value them the same way.

▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES? perfumes. smelling them involves fewer bugs, and often nicer circumstances.

▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE? personality. you can dress up a shit in armani all you like, it still won't stink any less.

▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD? being in a crowd. he loves people, most of the time; loves to brush up against the edges of their normal lives.

▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY? a measure of both, ideally, but order's not worth shit if it comes at the cost of personal freedoms. anarchy, on the other hand, is usually pretty fun.

▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES? immensely circumstantial. but there's no point in ignoring a painful truth when it's right there in front of your face, or in refusing to deliver it when it's right there in your hands, and denial starts to piss him off past a certain point.

▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC? is he a joke to you?

▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT? peace, all the way, every time. he wants peace for himself so badly. but as he says about conflict & violence, "you can't pretend it isn't happening, right?" similar to hard truths, if fists are about to start flying then there's no point playing pacifist and hoping no one hits you; and if someone needs a good telling-off, regardless of the delicacy of the environment, then he's more than happy to shake that tree.

▸ NIGHT OR DAY? night, when he has space to think. besides, no one's going to stop to question a guy in a trenchcoat wandering the streets in the dark.

▸ DUSK OR DAWN? dusk, right when the pubs start picking up with life and laughter and the stars are starting to come out.

▸ WARMTH OR COLD?   warmth. he always thinks of jacko and people like him when it's cold.

▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS? he doesn't mind either, so long as he has company, but his life is at its best when he's got a few close friends to hang around who truly know him.

▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME? reading. he devours books like a termite.

— QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS?    smoking incessantly is always the first one that comes to mind; running his mouth regardless of whether he can back it up if things escalate is another. abruptly running out on people without telling them why is a big one, especially when there's emotional conflict involved. he's terrible at apologizing in a way that sounds as sincere as it's meant, because he shies away from the vulnerability of admitting he was wrong and ends up sounding breezy or dismissive instead. he tends to read people's mail if he thinks the packaging "looks interesting". he treats his body like a punching bag and it never occurs to him how often he might get his friends in trouble because they (shockingly) care enough about him to want to defend him.

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM?   so many people. his dad's death and his sister's death especially fucked with him, because he feels that both were directly (or indirectly if he's feeling generous with himself) his fault. his dad's death led to him killing a man, which has haunted him ever since; his sister's death led to his estrangement from his niece because 1) she blamed him and 2) he ran off and avoided her + the funeral arrangements when she needed him around most, which he'll always regret. the latter also really, indelibly soured his outlook on life + magic + himself.

his friend header's death is another significant one: it's the one that convinced him to try to go things alone whenever possible instead of asking for help when he needs it, because he'd asked header for help and that's what got him killed; it also heralded the deaths of most of his friend group at the time, which only cemented his resolution to try and keep his friends as uninvolved in his problems as possible.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS?    going to the beach with his dad & sister as a kid, the wild days of touring with mucous membrane, staying with brendan & kit in ireland after ravenscar, his 40th birthday party, sitting with dani & their friends watching rich the punk attach skis to the roof of a van, catching up with chas after a long time apart, pissing off the roof of ravenscar after winning ownership just to let it rot.

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL? no. never. he's killed one person in his whole life (at least directly, with his own two hands), and it has haunted him ever since. even the idea of leading someone to their unavoidable death (like he did with gary lester) makes him sick at heart; although he's found peace with the idea of leading someone into a position where their own actions will inevitably get them killed, because most of the people he does that to are assholes who could choose to make a different decision at any time.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN?    tsunami: an ominous retreat from emotion followed by a roaring tidal wave of self-destructive behavior, alcohol, and engaging with his hallucinations that makes it suddenly and abruptly clear to anyone who's only ever seen the put-together occultist or the insouciant con man that this guy is always wearing some mask or other, because this new person before them is not fucking alright and hasn't been in decades. it's a mess, and it's ugly, and it leaves a lot of debris in its wake. he knows this, and he tries his best to break down anonymously / in secret when he can: pushes people away or gets them pissed at him enough to leave on their own, then either finds some open-late haunt to terrorize that has a high enough tolerance to let him drink for a while and aggressive enough bouncers to throw him out when they're sick of it, or seeks out strangers who will fight him / fuck him into realizing it was a bad idea.

on the other hand, if someone he knows and trusts sticks it out through every attempt to scare them off, then he will have no recourse but to crumple and sob like a little kid in front of them, and that can be just as terrifying as — if not more so than — the anger issues and bad decisions.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE?    capable, yes, ostensibly. does he? rarely. it's more common for him to trust someone not to fuck him over as an accomplice while he's gambling with his own life, than for him to place the whole of it completely in their hands. it's more often that he's surprised when the people he trusted enough to keep informed choose to back him up when he needs it most.

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE?  sentimental, silly, soft. cleans up his act and appearance, gets more careful, socializes more, finds hope in the little things. optimistic. tries harder to live. smiles and laughs without a trace of bitterness behind it. replaces every pain-soaked, value-defining cornerstone of his life with pictures of them. comes in soaked from the rain because he saw some flowers they liked & stopped to pick them / realized he was passing their favorite restaurant & doubled back to pick up food / got lost in thought & ended up walking to the place where they met. stresses about being good enough for them. forgets their birthday, then scrambles to make up for it. rewires every pathway in his life to revolve around them.

he's not always healthy about it, he's not always good at it, but he loves with every fiber of his being and basks in the warm glow of having a future that isn't quite so lonely, even as he waits with bated breath and eyes shut tight for it all to come crashing down.

This is my new canon from now on

I really can't get over this post by @ficandkaboodle about V admiring Copia but being shy vs. Copia interpreting everything as a personal attack, so I had to draw it. No idea what their dynamic is actually going to be, but I want to play in this space for a bit.

I cannot stand these guys

Zatanna projecting her period cramps onto Constantine

Deleted scene from season 11

season 2 when

That’s it! Where’s my John Constantine Pride comic and cover!? I don’t give a shit that it’s pandering or if it’s just shitty capitalism. I want that piece of shit Brit drawn in the sluttiest little outfit surrounded by bisexual flags with Zatanna on his left and DC Lucifer on his right! I want it to be the dirtiest shit imaginable! Enough to make those conservative bigots lose their minds and claim that it’s devil worship! WHERE IS IT!? >:(

cutie patootie

and i thought 'Jealousy, but make it stupid'

𖤐 Encyclopedia of Terzo 𖤐

I've been thinking a lot about how the personality of Papa III was created. Tobias set the basic framework, the archetype, the cliché from which he drew. But the real implementation of Papa was on stage, where his image developed through improvisation. Some things were conceived on purpose, some were invented on the spot, some came out unplanned, due to circumstances. Papa turned out to be as lively and unpredictable as life itself. In many senses, he lived on stage.

Thanks to the research of concerned fans, there is quite a lot of material. It occurred to me to collect them in one post for those who want to get acquainted with the canonical image of Terzo. This catalogue uses materials from two users, Cityofmeliora's and myself. You can use them for fanfiction or just for your own amusement. So, allow me to introduce Papa Emeritus III!

Cityofmeliora: Transcriptions and facts

Radley @cityofmeliora has an academic degree in Terzo Studies. He did a great job watching probably 100% of the Terzo videos and bringing us some interesting insights about his personality from the Terzo mines.

▸ notes / thoughts on Terzo's characterization (Terzo is so disappointed and depressed and i love him)

▸ Terzo's mom was mentioned twice

▸ quotes on Secondo and Terzo's age gap / the Emeritus brothers having different mothers

▸ TF on the archetype of Papa

▸ about Terzo's height...

▸ Terzo's sweet tooth 🍰🍫

▸ Secondo lied about being able to speak Swedish, and Terzo lied about *not* being able to speak Swedish

▸ according to the Nameless Ghouls, Terzo is better than Secondo because he has hair and is "less smelly" 😂😂

▸ TF breaks character a little too much and accidentally makes it canon that Terzo has a child 💀👶

▸ Who is Mysterious Spectre?

▸ transcript: Terzo's first concert - Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

▸ transcript: Sweden Rock Festival (June 4, 2015)

▸ Terzo lying about his knowledge of Swedish AGAIN!

▸ Terzo talking about his mom <3

▸ Papa Nihil taught his sons to sing

▸ Terzo hates it when people are bad at clapping 👏👏👏

▸ Terzo knows he's always yapping <3

▸ Terzo is hard of hearing 🦻

▸ Terzo did WHAT in Poland? 😳

▸ Terzo totally not bragging about his Grammy 🙄

▸ Terzo + children 🥰

▸ Terzo had eye infections???

▸ "And it is very important that you respect the fact that there are kids and there are"

▸ Terzo thinks 'Cirice' is a sad song

▸ Terzo getting angry

▸ Terzo's fucked up sore throat voice 🤒

▸ Terzo mentioning Secondo 😎

▸ Terzo mentions his parents 🧑‍🤝‍🧑

▸ Terzo + family 👪

▸ Terzo + being old 👴

▸ Terzo saying quesadillas are his favorite food 🧀

▸ Terzo is NOT a fluent / native Italian speaker 🤭🇮🇹

▸ Terzo + musical instruments 🎹🎸🥁🎺

🆕 Terzo hates it when people pronounce "Meliora" incorrectly ☝️🤓

🆕 What does terzology know about the overthrow of Papa III?

🆕 sad, sad Terzo + 'If You Have Ghosts' 🌙

Blackbird: Observations and analysis

My modest contribution to terzology was an attempt to summarise observations and look inside the head of the mysterious Papa III.

▸ Part 1: Terzo's responsible attitude to work

▸ Part 2: The jokes about height

▸ Part 3: The relationship between Terzo and Secondo

▸ Part 4: The ideas behind the birds and the bees speech

▸ Part 5: Terzo's other beliefs that he broadcast

▸ Part 6: Terzo and his loneliness

🆕 Part 7: Terzo is referring to Cartesian philosophy?

He's probably doing it for copia's own good tho. That man likely to crash the walls of Ministry and hurt himself

Nihil when copia does something annoying

Men seriously have zero knowledge about women's Biology

uterus v2.9.1 has been installed.

Don't worry, I found another gif for you guys ⛧

for all the artists out there, here are my favorite resources i use to learn!

Files

The Complete Famous Artist Course

Art Books and Resources

Art, Anatomy, and Color Books

PDF Files of Art Books

Internet Archive

YouTube

My YouTube Playlist of Tutorials

How to Draw Facial Features

Drawing and Art Advice

Drawing Lessons

Art Fundamentals

Anatomy of the Human Body

2D Animation

Perspective Drawing

Websites

Pinterest Board for Poses

Another Pinterest Board for Poses

Pinterest Boards for References

Reference Angle

Figurosity

Sketch Daily

Line of Action

Human Anatomy

Animal Photo References

Humanae - Angélica Dass

Fine Art - Jimmy Nelson

Character Design References

CDR's Twitter Account

iamagco's Twitter Account

taco1704's Twitter Account

takuya_kakikata's Twitter Account

EtheringtonBro's Twitter Account

Drawabox

Color Wheel

Color Palette Cinema

Free Images and Pictures

Free Stock Photos

FILMGRAB

Screen Musings

William Nguyen Light Reference Tool

SketchFab - 3D Skeleton Model

Animation References - sakugabooru

Animation References - Bodies in Motion

Terzo mentioning Secondo 😎

Terzo mentioned Secondo many times during his first year as Papa, which gave us some insight into their relationship that i really love.

Secondo and Terzo learned music together. they were taught songs / trained for the band by their father, Nihil.

PAPA EMERITUS III: […] But this is something me and my brother were taught by our father. Believe me, there are worse fish in the sea. Yes– Papa’s papa. The grandpapa. You will meet him one day, I promise. And he told us, “As long as you have one thing, it’s okay, y'all. The whispering walls. The spirits around you. The darkness inside.” So he looked at us and said… You know what he said? “If you have ghosts…” Unholy / Unplugged - Baltimore, Maryland, USA (August 22, 2015)

when Secondo stepped down so Terzo could replace him as Papa, Secondo gave Terzo a lot of entertainer advice. he talked to Terzo about what it's like to be Papa, how a concert usually goes, what the audiences are like in different cities, etc.

PAPA EMERITUS III: I’ve heard from my brother that you are somewhat of a singing crowd. So you like singing, eh? That is fantastic because that is exactly what we’re gonna do right now. [...] So everybody knows the lyrics for this last song, huh? It’s a damn predictable band, always playing the last same song. I told him, but… apparently, it works. Sweden Rock Festival - Sölvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: Thank you. We are so happy that New York loves us, because we love New York a lot, too. We've had so many beautiful evenings here. Or at least my brother told me about them. He told me that New York has always been treating Ghost very, very well. And he said that, "Y'know, I'm giving it to you now. As much as I would like to keep them all –do them all– sometimes, there isn't just enough time to do everybody. You could do one, maybe two." […] Um. But he also told me something before he pissed off: "I'm giving you this now, and as long as you have your sanity, and you get a lot of the right claps –the claps you do want– you will be in a good place." But he also told me something useful. There's one thing that he gave me, and he said… "If you have ghosts…" Unholy / Unplugged - New York, New York, USA (August 23, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: How are you doing tonight? It's been some time ago that Ghost was here last time, eh? Well, it was my brother at that point, but he told me you were a rocking crowd. Silver Spring, Maryland, USA (September 22, 2015)

it's so clear from the way he speaks that he and Secondo hang out and talk to each other a lot, but also Terzo can't stand him. typical brother behavior.

Terzo notes that Secondo is a lot more sexually active than him, emphatically replying "Yes." when someone in the audience calls Secondo a whore. Secondo has also apparently also given Terzo advice on how to pick up partners for hookups. 😂

AUDIENCE: I saw you got a little kid now, in Los Angeles! PAPA EMERITUS III: Oh, yes, yes. They have a tendency to pop up, ha. Yes. Maybe it's my brother's, I guess, because he has been around the block a few more times than I have. AUDIENCE: What a whore! PAPA EMERITUS III: Yes. Unholy / Unplugged - Baltimore, Maryland, USA (August 22, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: I'm gonna need your assistance a little bit later, giving me some claps. [CLAPS HIS HANDS] Those kind of claps. AUDIENCE: If you want the claps, I know where you can go. If you want these claps. PAPA EMERITUS III: Alright. Yes, my brother has told me a few– he has given me a few tips. Unholy / Unplugged - Baltimore, Maryland, USA (August 22, 2015)

Terzo called Secondo an "imbecile" and "a fucking asshole" for his silly prank where he pretended to (badly) speak Swedish.

PAPA EMERITUS III: Thank you very much. OK. So! Let me bring you up to speed. That guy –my imbecile brother– has somehow fooled you into thinking he can speak some fucking Swedish– pidgin Swedish. No more of that! I do not speak Swedish, OK? Do we have an agreement with this, OK? Thank you very much, Lincopia… Let’s enjoy our first “Ritual” together now! Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: How are you doing? It's nice to see so many of you here. What has it been, a little over a year? My brother told me about you. And you do know that I'm not gonna trick you with any fucking pidgin Swedish, huh? I know he fooled you into believing he could talk. He sounded like a fucking asshole. Stockholm, Sweden (November 13, 2015)

Terzo also refers to Secondo as "my asshole of a brother".

PAPA EMERITUS III: [SEES A SECONDO COSPLAYER IN THE AUDIENCE] Very good work, my friend. Please give it up for Papa Emeritus II! Yes. My asshole of a brother! Baton Rouge, Louisiana, USA (April 27, 2016)

"Smoochs all of them especially terzo"

My HCs on How the Papas Feel About Their Looks:

Primo presents himself as not giving a fuck about something as asinine and tedious as to whether or not he’s good-looking. It’s unimportant and stupid. Internally, though, he thinks he’s quite good-looking even now.

Secondo is aware that he is good-looking and isn’t above using it to his advantage with a willing party. He also knows he’s a bit of an acquired taste and takes no offense to that. It just means he’s gotta work just a tiiiny bit harder to get the one he has his eye on to openly swoon over him:

Terzo is aware others think he’s good-looking, and is willing to play around with it. However, he doesn’t actively see himself as particularly handsome. Not anymore, at least. He probably thought better of himself in his youth when he was still “new and full of hope (and cream pies)”, but that has since dwindled until he hated to think about himself. I think on average, he knows he isn’t necessarily ugly but doesn’t think he’s that far above average. But he’ll willingly present himself as completely confident in his looks and try to fulfill the image expected of a handsome man.

Copia is similar to Terzo in that doesn’t think he’s good-looking but will play along as such. But I think they differ in why they do so. Terzo’s is more akin to just sighing and going along with it — might as well, he’s already become begrudgingly used to playing along for the sake of others. Copia’s is born more from growing up lonely and ridiculed and associating that with something about him being wrong or unpleasant. That, and we know he apparently has some specific ideas of what a Papa should look like. He’s pretty positive the only reason anyone is “attracted” to him now is because of his power and the charisma he must exert while performing. Otherwise, he only has sparse moments when he thinks highly of his looks. But I think he’s learning to become okay with himself.

Conclusion: Smooch these stupid old men🫵🏽

For free??? Yes sir give me

Reblog if it’s ok for people to give you $599.99

Remember how I said I couldn't stop thinking about Ghouls? yeah LOL. Anyways, I finally finished my "Ghoul Guide" which is a comic featuring made up lore about summoning nameless ghouls as well as things about them and their roles!

this by no means is comprehensive of everything I've made up for them, but I'm testing the waters with this comic! if it gets enough love I'll make an additional comic about ghoul origins, element types, and maybe even design non-assigned ghoul outfits for each era costume hehe.

ID in ALT text! transcript for comic text under the cut!

Transcript is numbered for each page the text is for!

A rite of passage for becoming “Papa”, It starts with a will and your judgement

A specialized chamber is necessary, 1) to avoid interference 2) to prevent escape.

After all; feral ghouls are raw elements, And to survive, one must tame them.

Each element has a diversity of strengths and rarity / and the first ghoul summoned sets precedent for how a leader is perceived.

Additionally, the first is the personal servant and an important assistant for life; Often times assistance is needed for future summoning, but a limit of 2 maintains respect to show you’re still capable.

However, they must accept you- you must earn their respect, and they only choose if willing. And they are not always willing.

One must be prepared to face Hell itself. To prove one is worthy to take the stage, controlling the devil’s magic is key.

It’s important to roll the dice and summon a variety, but one may only tame as many as the power of their sin allows, which, naturally, varies.

And while they’re loyal as determined by one’s rank… / Remember: The ministry comes first.

Ghoul records broken by copia.

Record: Most ghouls summoned at one time: 8 (10 including past members), Record: Most obedient first summon (for an amateur).

Record: Most powerful summons (2 S-Class ghouls); All consuming Hell Fire (AKA: “Sodo” or “Dew”); Hurricane From Hades (AKA: “Cumulus”); Record: Most elemental offshoots summoned (3). Offshoots of (then lists the symbols for quintessence and fire).

ghoul roles.

Assistance, Fighting.

Personal Guard, And of course: Performing.

end transcript.

Instant Crush//Possum Kingdom

Stalker!Cardinal Copia x Sister of Sin!Reader

Summary: He’s been watching you for so long, he can’t wait any longer. He has to have you. (Loosely inspired by the songs Instant Crush by Daft Punk ft. Julian Casablancas, and Possum Kingdom by the Toadies.)

Words: 4,955

Warnings: NSFW 18+, DLDR; Dead Dove‼️intense voyuerism, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, dubious consent/noncon, copia is an unreliable narrator, innocence kink, outcast/evil copia x popular reader slightly cliche, PiV, masturbation, severe stockholm syndrome, mention of lactation

A/N: I don’t know if I would say this is the most intense fic out there but i think it would still be good to put the dead dove do not eat warning on here lol also thought of the ministry having catacombs like halfway through the fic and now i can’t stop thinking about how cool that would be lol

——

“And we will never be alone again… Kinda counted on you being a friend, can I give it up or give it away?” // “Make up your mind, and I’ll promise you I will treat you well, my sweet angel.”

He doesn’t know how it got to this point. The Cardinal can just barely see himself in the reflection of the window pane in front of him, but how can he focus on his own practically-drooling visage when he can watch what’s on the other side of the glass?

Copia knows he shouldn’t watch, but he can’t really help it anymore. He really doesn’t know how it got to this point, watching you bent over your bed with an undeserving Brother of Sin. It would make his blood boil if he didn’t love the sight of it so much. You look so beautiful like this, ass pressed up against this rugged Brother, your sweet little face scrunched up in pleasure. Oh, if only it were him making you feel like that. He’s just glad someone’s doing it, even if it’s not him. At least he gets to watch.

Copia’s cock begins to tent his cassock just a little more as a muffled moan of yours floats through the cracked window sill. How divine, he thinks, why would such an angel spend their time in a pit of demons? This was the fourth Sibling you’d been with this week, and he just can’t seem to wrap his head around it. You’re such a sweet little thing, and they are always so dirty.

His train of thought is cut short when he realizes your big, innocent eyes are locked on his own. He can feel his heart sink all the way to his feet. You look scared. Yet, you don’t say anything to your partner, just continue to stare into his lustful, depraved gaze. He can’t quite tell what sort of expression is on your face other than shock and fear, but there’s something else indistinguishable mingled in there. It’s not until you arch your back and your eyes roll back into your skull that he knows— arousal is hot in your gaze and it’s bringing you over the edge.

It’s like watching a tsunami, or, more relevantly, an angel fall to earth. It’s breathtaking in so many different ways. He can’t help it when his cock twitches, his cassock becoming unbearably sticky. You’re just so beautiful like this, he doesn’t even need to touch himself.

Copia watches on as your partner cleans only himself up and leaves you on the bed with a halfhearted promise to return at a later date, but you couldn’t care less. How long had he been watching you now? The Cardinal tries to recall when this all started.

You were new to the Ministry but had quickly become a sort of people’s princess. Everyone loved you, especially Copia. You had enchanted him with your big eyes and sweet demeanor. Although, it was never directed towards him, he was quite used to this and hadn’t expected any sort of kindness from you. He knew he didn’t deserve it. He had spent his whole life manipulating and fighting his way to where he was now, but soon he wouldn’t be just a Cardinal anymore.

People knew to tread carefully with him, they thought him disgusting and frightful. A part of him was glad for this, it made his job easier. There was a reason everyone called him the Rat and it wasn’t because of his defined nose. If someone were in his way, he wouldn’t hesitate to ruin their lives to come out on top. He’s a liar, a snitch, a traitor, a backstabber, a Brutus, a Judas, if you will.

Ah, yes. Now he remembers. It was fall, he had just finished teaching his Latin class. He was locking up the class room, the night sky shining down on him from a nearby window. A chill ran through his spine. He could hear you, you’re short heels clicked on the linoleum in a strange and specific way that was unique to you. He had been casually watching you in the past week of you being there, any time he found himself in your presence he couldn’t look away.

And here you were, you had stopped in your tracks the second you noticed him. He could practically smell the fear on you, so as he turned to face you, he tried to keep a neutral expression. Even then he knew he didn’t want to scare you, not like how he scares the others. No, he wanted to scare you in a different way. A way that makes you clench your thighs together and beg for release.

“Hello, Sorella.” He said, watching you carefully. You were stiff, like maybe just the sight of him alone had turned you into a statue. He looked off to the side, where he presumed you were heading to. “Ah, on your way to my fratello, eh?”

Terzo’s office was just down the hall from his, and of course a beautiful Sister of Sin like you would visit him late into the night. He saw you fidget where you stood, you stared at your shoes in fear of meeting his eyes. Your voice came out wavering and hushed.

“N-no, il mio Cardinalé. I was on my way to see you.” Your voice was so soft he almost thought he misheard you for a second, but no, oh no, he hadn’t. Now he’s nervous. What could you possibly want to do with him? He was afraid if he thought too much about it he might pitch a tent in his very revealing, tight pants. Seemingly, to spare him, you continued. “Sister Imperator gave me some paperwork she meant to give you in the meeting this morning. She said it was important.”

You held out the stack of papers with a shaking hand, and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing his gloved fingers against yours as he took it from you. Your eyes were so wide, staring up at him with such fear and reverence. And even after he thanked you and you had walked away, he stood in the hallway dreaming of that look.

Yes, this was when he had started following you. From this point on he couldn’t stand it when you were out of his sight, he had to know where you were and who was giving you the pleasure you deserved. So, as he snapped out of his daydream in the hall, he stalked off into the Ministry corridors.

The Cardinal did his best to stay quiet as he caught glimpses of you turning corners and weaving in between the Ministry’s ornate marble pillars. He followed you into the dorm wing, hesitating just around the corner so he could take note of which door you entered. The butterflies in his belly became more and more present as he realized just how lucky he was. Your room was at the very end of the hall, directly next to an exit, and he knew for a fact that there was a window peering into your room.

He exited the wing, and came face to face with what would soon become a sort of second home to him. A bench directly under the window to your room. Copia cupped his hands around his eyes as he pressed his forehead into the window, trying his best to see into the room with how dark it was. A breeze racked its way through his body, but he warmed up fast when he saw you exit from your bathroom.

Steam spilled from the little room, you had started a shower. His heart began to race, you were grabbing a robe from your dresser. Were you about to?— Oh, yes. Yes, you were. You had pulled your habit right over your head after removing your wimple, the vision in front of him could only be likened to holiness. A beautiful angel, clad in dark lace and nylon. You bent forward, presenting your full ass to him, you rolled down your stockings and pulled them off your legs.

The mirror on your dresser gave him the perfect view of your front as well. It sent a jolt of terror through him though, when he had noticed the window reflected perfectly in the mirror, but it seemed your curtains hid him from view. He heaved a sigh, watching as your hands skimmed over your tits, plucking each bra strap and letting them snap back against your skin. He could see the little flinch you made each time you did it, it had him twitching in his pants.

Finally, you slid the straps off your shoulders and reached behind you to unlatch the bra entirely. It fell to the floor unceremoniously, giving him a full view of your chest. And what a view it was, his hand skimmed its way down to his crotch, palming at his hot erection. Your breasts were soft and caught the beautiful glow of the candle on your dresser like an oil painting.

He didn’t have much time to admire you before your hands made their way down to your panties, playing with the band resting on your full hips. You slid them down your legs, bending over once more. Your cunt was slick and glistening in the candlelight. He started to drool. He hadn’t felt lust like this in quite some time, his work had taken the forefront of his attention. But now? You were the only thing he could think of, work wasn’t even a thought anymore.

You slinked off into the bathroom, finished undressing, and he wondered if you would touch yourself in the shower. He wished there was a window in there too.

That night, as he lay in his bed, wet cock in hand, he imagined what it would be like to touch you, to shower with you.

And even as he sits outside your window now, he still wonders what it would be like to give you the pleasure he so desperately wants to give you. Watching you with your little toys and your inconsistent partners can only satiate him so much.

You lay in your bed, covers pulled all the way up to your nose, still staring at him. You look so enticing. He’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself anymore. A couple weeks ago he had found a way to unlock the window from the outside. He had taken his fair share of your dirty panties from your hamper, and now… Now he wanted to take something else.

His lithe hand creeps down to where he knows the window is cracked open, the latch never quite closed fully, and if he could wiggle his finger underneath he could push the latch off completely. So, he did. The expression on your face makes him hard again, the squish of the cum staining his cassock is barely a thought to him with how strained his cock is once more. He sees tears well up against your long eyelashes.

He starts to shush you, trying to comfort you as he slowly slides the window up. He bends his head down, and slinks into your room. Soon, Copia is standing next to your bed. You haven’t moved an inch, though the tears have slid down your plump cheeks. He doesn’t know what to say, he wants you to feel better. He wants you to come back with him to his chambers. He wants you all to himself.

Only now does he realize he’s said this aloud. This snaps you out of your paralysis and you lunge for the door to your dorm. He’s much bigger than you though, and he’s caught you within seconds of your attempt. He presses your naked body close to him, you try to claw at his arms and scream but his thick hand has clamped over your mouth.

“Shh, shh, angioletto mio… You don’t need your little playthings anymore, bravetta, you have me now.” He presses his lips against your ear and whispers to you, pressing sporadic little kisses to the shell of your ear in between his words. “Shh, shh…”

Copia rubs his face into your soft hair, his voice rumbling like a cat. You continue to try and wiggle your way out, but he just slowly pulls you down to the ground, arms encasing your entire upper torso in a tight grip. He’s finally caught you and he’s not letting you go.

He continues to shush you, his voice a mix of comforting and terrifying. He gently presses you down into the floor, your body now lain flat, face pressed into the ground.

“Don’t move, little one. Your Cardinalé needs to do something.”

Your heart plummets to your stomach at the insinuation, but thankfully, he steps away from you and walks over to your dresser. You think of making another break for the door, but you know he would just catch you again so you decide to play the obedient role for now. He appreciates this as he pulls two long, thick ribbons from your dresser drawer. He had seen you play with another Sibling with these before and he had fantasized about them since.

Now, he can finally use them on you, like he has a wanted for quite some time now. He stalks back over to your body, straddling your hips and trying not to think of how good it feels for your plush ass to be pressed up against his balls. His fingers wrap around each of your wrists and he binds you with the red ribbon. It’s tight and inescapable. He moves down your legs and does the same with your ankles.

As he goes to stand above you, your little voice stops him in his tracks.

“C-Cardinalé?” Oh, the waver in your voice makes him feral. He’s so glad he could give you such a beautiful tremor. He hopes he’s riling you up just as much as you are to him.

“Sí, bravetta?”

“…”

You squirm under him, the sight of your breasts squished up against the floor is driving him insane. What soft nipples, he thinks, if only I had the time to worship them now. He nudges your hip with the tip of his dress shoe, urging you to continue as he’s sure he only has so much time to get you back to his chambers.

“I-I’m so scared, il mio Cardinalé.” Copia kneels back down, carding his fingers through your hair as he presses up against you once again. He gently lays kisses on your shoulder, his mustache tickling your skin.

“Oh, piccolo angialetto mio, there’s no need to be afraid. Shh, just relax now…” His hand rustles around in his cassock for a few seconds, making your blood run cold, but he pulls out a thick leather strap and fastens it against your mouth, effectively muffling any sound that may come out.

He pulls you off the floor, and carries you bridal style out of your room and through the exit he knew so well.

The entrance to the Ministry’s catacombs was a little bit into the edge of the woods near the gardens, not far from where your room had been. Sister Imperator had given him the long-abandoned chamber within the catacombs when he had become a bishop. The last tenant used to care for the burial sights down there, but after his death the entirety of the catacombs has been left untouched.

Sister had offered Copia an upgrade within the upper clergy chamber hall but he had declined, he’s grown fond of the stench of death.

So, as he pushes the large wooden doors open with his back, he encourages you to close your eyes. Many of the coffins and effigies were open or broken apart, and he would hate for you to see something so grotesque. He wants you calm and comfortable down here.

He traverses the old stone steps down into the ground, the old torches had been updated to be electric, the fuzzy warm light has always looked so cozy to him. Even as it reflects off the cold, stone walls. His chambers are down a few more twists and turns, you try to memorize them but it quickly becomes hard to remember. It dawns on you that maybe only the Cardinal knows how to traverse these caverns.

Copia comes at a stop in front of a large, heavy door, he sets you down gently on the freezing stone floor to unlock it with a skeleton key. He pushes it open far enough that he can carry you through safely.

There’s a large, extravagant bed in the middle of the room. All the furniture in the room seems to be Victorian, and of the same set. It looks much more comfortable than the rest of the catacombs. He strides over to the bed and lays you down on the soft covers, turning back to the door to lock it.

Copia watches as your chest rises and falls rapidly, the realization that you’re completely alone with him now dawns on you both. You’re trapped, he could do whatever he wanted now. He could do everything he’s dreamed of. But first, he has to make sure you really can’t escape. He had bought a collar and leash quite some time ago when he had first had the idea to bring you here.

The sight of it makes you wail, though the sound is muffled by leather. As he leans forward to fasten the collar, you try to scoot away but it’s not enough. He has you collared within the next second, and he slides his fingers down the chain leash, pulling it up to the bed post closest to you. He wraps it around the post and locks it in place.

“Hm… There. How does that feel, piccolo angialetto mio?” He unties the leather strap from your mouth, letting all the little gasping sounds you’ve been making float through the still air of his chambers.

“P-please, please, Cardinalé, please, let me go.” You beg, hyperventilating and whimpering. He’s a little disappointed in you, such a sweet, obedient thing and yet you can’t answer a simple question? Maybe he needs to ask it again.

His gloved hand sidles up against your throat. He gives it an experimental little squeeze making your eyes widen in fear. His gaze is like looking into the sun: wide, bright, and burning. He never looks away for a second.

“I said. How. Does. It. Feel?”

You know you have to answer him.

“I-it…It’s okay, Cardinalé… It doesn’t hurt.” You pray to Lucifer that that’s what he wants to hear. It seems it is, as his hand loosens its grip and slowly, softly, slides down your clavicle and ghosts over your breasts. His eyes are wild and deranged, you can see spit gathering against his bottom lip as he ogles your chest. His fingertip traces the shape of your breast, then comes back up to gently rub your nipple. Guilt and shame burns in your belly as a little involuntary moan escapes your throat.

His eyes snap up to yours… He liked that. You can see the urgency in his face, he wants you to do it again. His fingers circle your nipple once more, and it’s so sensitive. Your cunt isn’t on your side, it’s slick and aching. You bite your lip to hold back any other sound that may sneak out. It seems he likes this just as much.

Copia leans even closer to you, his lips ghosting over the skin of your tit. His mustache tickles as he hovers just over your stiff nipple. The tip of his tongue inches out, grazing against your areola. His spit is hot and dries cold, making you shiver in the warm light of his chambers. What is wrong with you? How could you possibly be turned on by this right now?

You had noticed how he was always around, always hanging on your every word even if they weren’t being said to him. You had wondered if he truly was watching you, and tonight you had finally seen him. But it didn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. In fact, it had driven you mad. The sight of him drooling and humping the air as he watched you getting railed, it had done things to you. It made the cock in your pussy almost redundant as you spasmed and creamed all over it.

The thought of having Copia’s cock to cum on flashes in your mind, doing nothing to stop you from giving in to him. His mismatched eyes look up at you reverently, he starts to suck gently on your tit, letting out little whimpers and moans as he does so. His hand trails down your belly, on a certain path to your flushed and pulsing clit.

Any effort to refuse him has gone out the window, you have no idea how long you’re going to be here with him. It would do you no good to pretend you don’t like it as much as he does. Moans spill from your lips as his gloved fingertip gently presses against your clit. He draws little circles on the hot bud, making it twitch and pulse. You whisper his name in poorly contained ecstasy.

He shushes you once more in a placating gesture, his hot tongue laving over your nipple. You’ve had many partners over the years, but none of them felt like this. His hot mouth is what you imagine Hell must be like for the most devout of Satanists.

He continues his ministrations, vaguely wondering if he could get you to lactate if he treats your teat kind enough. He trails his tongue over to your other nipple to give it some much needed attention, and his cock jumps when you let out an airy gasp, your bound arms twitching in place. He suddenly realizes then that you’re still tied up at the wrists and ankles and a wave a guilt washes over him.

“Oh, piccolina, I’m sorry. Let me free you.” He pulls his mouth away from your tit, making you whine in protest. He sneaks his hand under your body, untying the ribbon as fast as he can and turning down to your ankles to untie that ribbon as well. It feels good to spread your arms out next to you and let your legs fall open for your Cardinal.

“What a beautiful girl.” He whispers in praise, his hand sliding back in between your legs. Your fingers toy with the grucifix hanging from his chest as he plays with your clit once more, suddenly it doesn’t feel so fair that you’re naked and he’s not.

“Copia?” You whisper breathlessly, catching his attention immediately. He mindlessly rubs your clit as he faces you with a quizzical expression.

“Sí, bravetta?” His voice has grown husky and his right pupil is blown wide while the other stays the same as it always does. He looks worried, like he’s done something wrong which feels morbidly ironic to you and you can’t help but let out a quiet giggle.

“Will you undress, il mio Cardinalé? I want to see you.” Your desperate voice betrays your neediness, and he looks almost smug at how well he’s riled you up. He barely has any room in his head for any insecure thoughts that crop up, his only thought being to make you happy. So, he pulls his hand away once more, though to start unbuttoning his cassock now.

He gets it about midway to his belly before he starts to pull it off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. What greets you is freckled shoulders and hairy pecs hidden by a white tank top, and his signature tight, red pants.

His cock looks huge straining against the fabric, it makes your mouth water in anticipation. There’s a little wet spot where you assume the tip is, and it somehow makes you even slicker than before. His nimble fingers start to undo his pants, pulling out the tucked in tank top and tossing it over his head. With his pants fully unbuttoned, he takes a glance at you and sees that you’re transfixed. It looks as if you’ve been put under a spell, watching intently as he fumbles around to try and pull his pants down and off his legs.

His dick is even more pronounced in the tight black briefs he wears, it looks about as thick as your wrist and as long as your belly button to your clit. He looks at you hesitantly, like he’s not sure if you truly want to see all of him but there’s nothing more you want in this moment, not even escape.

He pulls the gloves off his hands, finger by finger, drawing it out as much as possible. Just so he can drink in the desperate look on your face, he knows he won’t have much resolve to tease you once it starts. His newly bare fingers slip down his pudgy, fuzzy belly and hook under the band of his briefs. He strains the band and lets it snap against his skin like he’d seen you do with your bra straps, and he watches intently as you let little gasps out each time he does it.

Copia pulls the band down, revealing his bush with every slow inch. The sight of the base of his cock takes your breath away, and soon enough the entire thing has flopped out and smacked against his belly. It’s monstrous. You want it like nothing else. It suits him.

He crawls over you and straddles you then pulls your legs around his hips, letting the tip of his flushed cock rest ever so gently against your throbbing clit. You whine and squirm, gripping the covers below you and he tuts gently.

“Patience, piccolina.” He warns, but both of you know there’s no real danger behind it. This is better than anything he could’ve imagined, why would he get upset with you for being just as eager as he is?

His cock catches against your aching hole as he tries to rub your clit with it and it makes you both gasp. He lets out a drawn out moan as the tip pushes gently against your cunt, it pops and slides in about an inch and he can’t seem to catch his breath. It’s been so long it feels like it’s the first time, and maybe it should be because no one has ever been like you. Sí, he thinks, this’ll be my new first time.

Just his tip sits nestled in your heat and it starts to make you feel fuzzy and needy, you start to whisper incoherent pleas. He knows what you need but he needs to take this in just for a few seconds longer, so he brings his thumb up to rub against your clit. You’re both moaning like desperate whores, and he can’t help the whimpers that fall from his lips whenever he feels you clench down on him.

He starts to slide in further, you’re so wet it feels like there’s no resistance at all. It feels like home to him, like this is where he really belongs. Here with you, in you and around you. He falls forward to rest on his elbows above you. His hips start to rock gently against you, pushing in further and further with each thrust.

“I-I love you, angialetto mio.” He whispers against your lips, pressing kiss after kiss on them. “I have loved you for so long.”

“I know, Cardinalé… Mmm, yes, just like that.” You groan as the head of his cock starts to nudge against that spot inside of you, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. “I-I… Oh, Copia, I love you too.”

You don’t know what’s come over you. You’re not in the right headspace, you never would’ve said that before. But maybe that’s okay, you think, maybe this is where I’m meant to be. You pull him closer, pressing your chests together and kissing him deeper. His tongue asks entrance into your mouth and you let it, you explore each others tongues as he fucks into you faster.

The sound of your wet bodies slapping against each other and the moans let out between breaths is the only thing that can be heard in the chambers, and as he continues to pick up speed and depth it feels like you just might scream. He’s hitting all the right places, rubbing all the right spots and your eyes roll back into your head. His face is scrunched up in concentration and pleasure, his sweat dripping down onto your own sweaty skin.

“Oh, bravetta, I’m so close.” He whimpers pathetically and he brings his hand back down to rub tight circles on your clit once more, aiming to push you over the edge with him.

“Yes! Yes! Copia, please!” You’re almost there too, your breathing is short and fast as your heart thumps in your chest, your clit throbbing. His thumb nudges the very tip of your clit and that’s what does it. It feels like molten lava has spilled over you from your head to your toes as he grunts loud and jerks his hips forward once, twice, and a third final time as he unloads deep inside you. Your walls spasm around his thick cock in ecstasy and soon enough the reality of the situation starts to set in.

You don’t know how long you lay there silently gazing off but when you come back, Copia has cleaned you both up and wrapped you up in the covers. He is gazing at you lovingly and it makes you sick to your stomach. There’s no getting out of here is there?

You wait til he falls asleep to cry.

“Now I thought about what I wanna say, but I never really know where to go. So, I chained myself to a friend.” // “Give it up to me, give it up to me. Do you wanna be my angel?”

——

Damm Terzo one is so sad and ı think this HCs Terzo is the closest to the real also copia too, terzo definitely has severe depression it breaks my heart

Papa HCs!

(I think they're all autistic)

Primo

Primo likes to spend a lot of time by himself or with his ghouls. He doesn't care for social gatherings and likes to keep himself to himself. He's fairly good at small talk but he absolutely hates it. When he was younger, Primo masked a lot. He tried to be outgoing, which was expected of him, especially because he was very open about his desire to be the frontman of the project. He'd finish each day absolutely exhausted. He'd have no energy to do the things he enjoyed, instead he spent a lot of time stuck in bed or dissociating in front of a mirror. It was only until he met his ghouls that he learnt how to take care of himself. His ghouls taught him about preserving his social battery, how to avoid burn out, and most importantly, that they care about him and are always happy to help him. Now that he's older, he's got a lot better at taking care of his wellbeing and asking for help when he needs it. His favourite part of getting old is that people don't care what he does or how he behaves as much as they did when he was younger. Now, when he spends all day in his greenhouse, no one questions what he's doing, or when he stares at the flames in his fireplace, people assume he's just doing 'generic old man things', whereas those close to him know that he's stimming.

Secondo

Secondo has very little problem with big social gatherings and loves to be the life and soul of the party. He loves meeting new people at parties too. Secondo has a hard time holding down relationships with people, both romantically and platonically. He loves having hookups though as it gives him a chance to be close to someone while them going separate ways afterwards is expected. Secondo is aroace, which usually shocks most people he tells. He does try to explain that his lack of sexual attraction doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy sex, and he enjoys doing romantic things even though he doesn't feel romantic attraction either, but people very rarely understand. Secondo likes being a sugar daddy. The rules and boundaries are very clear and he gets what he wants out of relationships without genuine romantic interest being expected. He also has a platonic partner who visits him on a schedule. They both organise what they're going to do when they next meet up a week in advance to give him plenty of time to prepare.

Terzo

Terzo masked HARD when he was younger. Nihil constantly made remarks about how he behaved, especially about how flamboyant he was. He was told off for being rude a lot, but used to get really annoyed when no one would explain what he'd actually done wrong. He spent a lot of time learning the 'correct' and 'acceptable' way to interact with people. Because of how much he masked, he was constantly burnt out and later developed depression and self worth issues. Terzo began to isolate himself. Like they asked, he stopped being loud, he stopped being flamboyant, and he stopped being rude. He actually stopped speaking all together. After all this, Sister and Nihil still seemed to have a problem with him. He didn't know what he was doing wrong. His self worth issues stayed with him the whole way through his life. Being dragged off stage was the final piece of proof he needed that he wasn't and never would be good enough for his parents or anyone.

Copia

Copia has always been the 'weird kid'. His obsession with rats was usually enough to put most people off. Unlike Terzo, a lot of Copia's behaviour was excused, so he never felt the need to mask. Terzo didn't particularly like Copia in the brief time they knew each other because of this. Copia picks up sarcasm and jokes with ease and both come very easily to him. On the other hand, social cues, having to read between the lines, and oftentimes, other people's innuendos go right over his head. He spends a lot of time in his room, not necessarily to avoid people but moreso for the fact he keeps all his favourite things in his room on display. Copia has a lot of sensory aversions. His costume designer and tailor have a list of fabrics they cannot use. Copia also has a lot of food aversions as he's really picky with textures. He has few safe foods, the large majority of them being pasta, pizza, and any beige carb. Copia is closer to his ghouls than any of the other Papas were. When he's feeling overstimulated, he has Aether 'squash his soul back into his body' by lying on him like a compression blanket. Copia's very open about his autism with his ghouls and they're all very supportive and mindful of him.

I will read it later

Dawn Chorus - VII

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 6.8k.

Reading Time: 28 min.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, blood drinking, corruption kink, drunk sexual content, dubcon (due to drunk sexual content), fear kink, fingering, frottage, graphic injuries, getting drunk, masturbation, mentions of sexual harassment, multiple orgasms, nipple play, PTSD, rape kink, vaginal fingering, virgin kink

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

Copia winced at the sound of Mountain’s screams, the agony in his voice too much to bear. Still, he didn’t look away. He wanted to show that he was there for his loyal ghoul, even if this whole ordeal was his fault in the first place. He couldn’t look away because he wanted Mountain’s pain to be his, and prayed to the Dark One that his ghoul would heal soon, and more painlessly than this. The guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the unintended consequences of his actions.

The medical staff were doing their best to treat the demon’s burns, using Hellfire to cauterise the would and hope that it would heal his burn, and strengthen him. But, they could only hope, as none of the staff were old enough to remember the last time an angel fell into the hands of the Ministry and had to do this. Hell, even Copia wasn’t old enough to remember that and he was pushing 300.

Copia felt a sense of shame tightening its grasp on his heart like a vice as his mind returned to the terrifying scene of your fall. When you needed your wings the most, they failed you, and he had watched helplessly as you crashed into the ground. He’d been overcome in that little moment by a feeling of dread, a deep-seated terror that seemed determined to swallow him whole.

He had never been one to run from difficulties, but seeing you in pain had touched something deep inside of him, bringing regret and grief that he had long buried to the surface. He carried the heavy burden of ensuring the security and welfare of his fellow demons as the head of the Ministry, but he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he had let you down when you were most in need. You were in unbearable pain, as was Mountain, and Sister Imperator was breathing down his neck the entire time because he was disappointing her as well. The world was spinning too fast and he just wanted to get off.

Copia felt sorry for you, going over the day’s events in his head in an attempt to find any indication that he could have done more to keep you from falling. Had he been too complacent, too consumed by his own goals to notice his imminent danger? Or had circumstances worked against him, creating a tragic mosaic that was out of his control? Was this infernal intervention to get him to admit to his wrongdoings, and his deep-rooted emotions that he pushed down and down until he could no longer feel them? Perhaps the Dark One was disappointed by him, too.

Copia’s thoughts were plagued by the image of your fall, a constant reminder of your frailty and the harsh turns of events that have the power to break even the most resilient souls. He could still clearly remember the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach as he saw you fall from the sky, your elegant shape swishing and tumbling through the air like a leaf caught in a hurricane. His stomach lurched.

In that heart-stopping moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl, each passing second stretching out into an eternity as Copia’s mind raced with a thousand unanswered questions. How had it come to this? What unseen force had conspired to bring you to the brink of disaster? And most importantly, what could he do to save you from the impending doom that threatened to consume you whole?

The weight of guilt settled heavily upon Copia’s shoulders as he confronted the painful truth that lay at the heart of his turmoil. In the business of the medical wing, with Mountain’s cries as background music, and the echoes of your fall still ringing in his ears, he could no longer ignore the role he had played in your suffering.

The regret he felt for his deeds, his brutality, and his selfishness returned to haunt him with every instant that went by. It was like a never-ending wave of shame that was about to swallow him whole. He remembered the way he had kept you trapped, a helpless prisoner in his domain, subjecting you to unspeakable torment and degradation at his hands.

The insight came to him like a tonne of bricks, bringing to light the depths of his own depravity. He had wielded his power over you like a weapon, using your vulnerability to satisfy his own twisted desires and gratify his basest impulses. In his arrogance and pride, he had convinced himself that he held dominion over you, that you were nothing more than a plaything to be used and discarded at his whim.

But Sathanas, he couldn’t ever forget the way you looked on your knees for him, his thumb in your mouth and those big, wide, innocent eyes staring up at him in confusion, hatred and fear. The way the pigment of your lips stretched over his thumb, the feeling of your tongue laving over his skin as you sucked on the appendage, completely oblivious to the way all the blood in his body was gathering at his cock, and his half-full length screaming at him, begging him to push you onto your back, lift your robes and defile you completely. He couldn’t help but think of the sounds you’d make, if you enjoyed it or would want him to stop. How loud would your pleasure make you scream for him? Or would you long for the safety of your cage as he ravaged you not two metres away from it?

Of course, when he finally had you hanging off his cock, it would be consensual. He was a lot of things, but a filthy misogynist wasn’t one of them. That was the thing that separated the Satanic church from their Catholic siblings, and something he prided himself on. If he fucked you, it would be because you wanted him to. It was half of the reason why he spent so long being so kind to you - that whole event in his chamber where you were on your knees taking what he gave you, you didn’t consent. It was likely that you had no idea that you even needed to, meaning you couldn’t give your consent. He’d broken the one rule he told himself to abide by, and the guilt was eating him alive. And while none of his subsequent actions could make him atone for his sins, he would do the most to make sure he got close enough to it.

But the fact that he’d never do that again didn’t stop him from thinking about it all the time, wrapping his hand around his cock in the shower and imagining how you’d feel beneath him. You’d get so wet for him, willingly or otherwise. Those big, wide eyes staring at him as he took you on his chamber floor, using your body for his own pleasure. You would be his vulnerable, little plaything, and you’d come to enjoy the feel of him buried deep inside you eventually, if you didn’t enjoy the first time you spent together.

Those fantasies would remain thoughts he had in the shower, though. And he’d only act on them with your permission further down the road. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He’d be better than he was before. He swore that. He could and would never hurt you again, no matter how much his mother wanted him to.

Mountain was going to be okay. The nurses worked hard and tirelessly to take away his pain and make him comfortable, but it did mean that he would be out of commission for a short while. Copia couldn’t help but count his blessings at this, now that everything in his life was quiet save for you. And it was to you that his thoughts turned to next.

He made his way back towards his apartments and opened the door slowly, unsure of where you’d be. You were nowhere in the living room, and so he assumed he’d find you in his bedroom - the assumption being correct.

You’d healed, Copia had no doubt that was to do with the fact that you wore your halo for the first time in a long time, and so he didn’t brace himself to see you as the mangled mess you were not one hour ago when you made impact with the ground. But you were curled up in a ball in front of your cage, your wings wrapped around you as though you were holding yourself, comforting yourself like a child who’d been hurt or abandoned by the ones they loved the most.

When Copia saw you curled up on the ground with your wings wrapped around you like a shield, his heart fell. His chest constricted with a twinge of empathy as he saw the anguish carved into your features and the tears still glistening on your cheeks.

He stood motionless in the doorway for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. He wanted to be there for you, to give you some measure of solace, but he was too consumed by the guilt that still weighed heavily on his mind. It was him, after all, who had placed you in this situation, who had caused you to endure unspeakable horrors, and who had caused you to suffer unfathomable pain.

Copia sighed heavily and moved slowly towards you so as not to startle you. He squatted next to you, his hand tentatively hovering over your shoulder before settling it gently. “Angel,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincere worry. “Are you alright?”

He was waiting tensely for your reply, praying beyond prayer that you would let him confide in you, that you would let him feel your suffering and give you the comfort you sorely needed. However, he knew deep down that his regret would always be overshadowed by the weight of his actions and that words could never make up for the harm he had done.

You were silent for a moment, slowly raising your head to meet the Cardinal’s gaze as the significance of his presence began to register. Your eyes scanned his face for any indication of sincerity or regret, a mixture of pain and uncertainty.

“I…” Your voice caught in your throat as a tumultuous storm of emotions whirled around you. When you did finally say, “I do not know,” your voice was hardly audible above a whisper.

Your words carried a heavy weight of vulnerability, a silent cry for empathy and understanding. You wanted to think the Cardinal genuinely cared about you and was sorry for the suffering he had brought upon you. However, uncertainty lurked in the background of your thoughts, muttering flashbacks of past crimes and broken pledges.

The Cardinal’s hand stayed on your shoulder, a reassuring touch in the thick of your unstable feelings. You leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his closeness despite the doubts that kept popping into your head.

You were overcome with a hectic mix of emotions following the fall. Your body was in excruciating pain at the time, a never-ending reminder of the blow and the wounds it had caused. Though now healed, you could still feel how your body had snapped and bent with gravity, your teeth numb with the fear that rose in you, and the flashback of falling from grace. However, the most excruciating part turned out to be the emotional turmoil.

As you struggled to accept your vulnerability, anxiety took hold of your heart. Any illusions of invincibility had been shattered by the fall, and you were suddenly very much aware of your own existence. You felt exposed and defenceless, in stark contrast to the confident persona you had previously projected.

You felt torn about the Cardinal’s attempt at consolation. You recognised the sincerity of his concern in his gesture, and you were grateful for it. Knowing that he was concerned for your welfare was comforting, particularly during such vulnerable times.

But his presence also acted as a sharp reminder of your complicated relationship. It was impossible to get rid of the remaining mistrust and anger that had built up over time, even with his best attempts to provide comfort. Anything sincere he did now was clouded by his past deeds, which included taking you captive and causing you pain.

A part of you wanted to give in to his comfort and let yourself be supported by him. However, there was also a part of you that was cautious, unwilling to lower your defences and make yourself more vulnerable. He had slashed deep wounds, and healing would require more than words of consolation.

“The ghoul,” you began, sitting up from your position and looking at the Cardinal with wet eyes, “will he be alright?”

The Cardinal nodded. “Takes a lot more than angel tears to bring down the Mountain.” He smiled half-heartedly. “What happened up there?”

“I do not know… not completely. My muscles cramped and I could not regain strength. It did not matter how hard I tried, I could not get my wings to work again.” You started to cry again. “I beg of thee, please do not put me back in that cage again. I did not mean to hurt others.”

It was almost as though you could hear the Cardinal’s heart shattering at your words. The Cardinal’s face softened, regret and sympathy present in his features. He extended his hand hesitantly, as though he wasn’t sure if it would be accepted or rejected. He softly reassured you, “I won’t put you back in the cage,” his voice full of genuine sorrow. “I promise.”

There was silence for a brief moment, broken only by the sound of your sniffles and the gentle hum of the room’s ventilation system. You found yourself grappling with conflicting emotions, torn between the desire to accept the Cardinal’s comfort and the instinct to maintain your guard.

You were nervous as the Cardinal helped you off the floor, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He fastened your wings firmly to keep you from escaping by tying them together with the same chain he’d used previously. He had plans for you, plans that involved taking you somewhere, and you felt a twinge of uneasiness.

He told you to follow him, and you did, keeping quick steps to make sure you didn’t fall behind, as he walked you through the Ministry’s corridors and down multiple flights of stairs. Your mind began to race when you realised he was taking you to the basement. Your memory flooded with how you were treated and how you felt when you first were taken there, and your heart raced with the fear that it was going to happen again. Your whole body froze, making the Cardinal turn around a few paces in front of you, and study you for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I do not wish to go down there again.” You said quietly.

The Cardinal paused, clearly confused, but when he fully registered your body language, he sighed. “You’ll be fine.” He told you, walking back towards you. “We’re not going all the way down to the bottom.”

“Where will we go?”

“Somewhere you can relax and forget about today.” He tugged at your hand. “Let’s go.”

At the base of the stairs that led to the cellar, you hesitated, but the Cardinal steadily held your arm and led you on. The air was thick with the smell of aged wine, and the stone walls were covered in long shadows by the low light.

“Come on, Angel,” the Cardinal urged, his voice soft yet insistent. “It’ll do you good to relax for a bit.”

With uncertain glances up at him, you twitched nervously behind your wings. Even though you weren’t sure about it, there was a part of you that wanted a little break from your problems.

The scent of aged oak and fermenting grapes filled the air as he guided you down to the wine cellar. The long shadows that the low lighting cast against the stone walls heightened the atmosphere of mystery in the subterranean room.

Shivering from the cold, you let the Cardinal pull you deeper as you sighed, taking in the new surroundings. The walls were lined with rows upon rows of wooden barrels, each one holding priceless liquid gold. Stone archways covered each of the rows, as though they were doorways to entirely different rooms.

The Cardinal moved with purpose, selecting a particular bottle and uncorking it with practiced ease. He poured a generous measure of wine into a crystal glass, sparkling in the orange glow of the candlelight, the rich red liquid glinting as it gathered in the cup.

“Here you go,” he said, offering you the glass with a small smile. “A little something to take the edge off.”

You accepted the glass hesitantly, your fingers trembling slightly as you brought it to your lips. The Cardinal watched you intently, his gaze unwavering as you took a hesitant sip.

The wine was unlike anything you had ever tasted before, the flavour bursting across your tongue in a symphony of sensations. It was warm and velvety, with hints of oak and berries dancing on the palate.

Despite your initial reservations, you found yourself taking another sip, then another, until the glass was empty. A warmth spread through your veins, suffusing you with a sense of contentment you hadn’t felt in ages.

The Cardinal placed the bottle down onto a nearby table, and wandered to a different archway, grabbing a bottle you recognised. It was one of the bottles he’d used the last time he’d drained you. He poured himself a glass as well, taking a long sip before setting the glass down on . He leaned against the wall and gestured for you to sit, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“You alright there, Angel?” He asked, his voice soft with genuine concern. “You seem a bit… tense.”

You nodded slowly, the alcohol already starting to cloud your thoughts. “I’m fine,” you replied, your words slurring slightly. “Just… adjusting, I suppose.”

The Cardinal chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, you’re in good company,” he said, taking another sip of blood.

“Cardinal,” you began once you took another sip of wine, “why have you not told the Sister the truth about my halo? Why have you stopped the second ritual?”

The Cardinal sighed and sat down opposite you. “So many questions.”

“I would appreciate an answer.”

“You ask one, I ask one. Deal?”

You nodded. “Why have you not told the Sister the truth?”

“At first it was because of… because I was drunk. But then, I just didn’t want to.” He took a sip of blood. “Why haven’t you escaped yet?”

“At the outset, it was by reason of my frailty. But at present… I find myself in doubt. Pray tell, why did you halt the second ritual?”

“As an apology for my actions.” He refused to make eye contact with you. “I violated you once… the second ritual meant I’d have to do it again.”

You knew that, of course, but hearing him admit to it was something else. “What course of action do you intend to pursue?”

“No, it’s my turn to ask you a question. What’s Yhwh’s plan?”

As far as you knew, even angels were in the dark about Yhwh’s plan. You had been raised to believe that everything takes place in accordance with God’s divine plan and to put your trust in His wisdom and guidance. But recent occurrences had called into question this belief.

You have seen the pain and injustice done to His children, the cruelty and deceit committed in His name. It caused you to wonder if God really did have a plan or if He has just let His creations go free, to be determined by human foolishness and the randomness of luck.

You could only speculate as to the details of His plan. Maybe it was putting His children to the test in terms of their faith and courage, challenging them to overcome hardship and grow stronger as a result. Or perhaps it was about pointing them in the direction of righteousness and enlightenment by imparting to them the true meaning of forgiveness and compassion.

You’d not seen much of that forgiveness and compassion. You wondered if it was even there at all.

You cleared your throat. “If I were privy to such knowledge, I would readily disclose it. Alas, it escapes me, for I am not allowed such insight. Only the Ophanims and beings of higher echelons hold such secrets. What about the second ritual - what does it include?”

The Cardinal nodded in understanding, then spoke. “We have to tempt you with the thing you really wanted; we have to make you need it, crave it… do anything for it. We know what you want, we were going to make you beg for it.”

You paused, considering asking a follow up question but remembering he wouldn’t let you.

“Tell me about the angels. This hierarchy you mentioned… what are you?”

“There are 9 levels of divine power, and I am on the ninth level. I am just a regular angel, there is nothing special about me. The closest to the Almighty are the Seraphims, followed by Cherubims, Ophanims, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels… then me.” You let your information soak in before you took another sip of your wine, you could feel the lightheadedness really begin to take effect now. Your entire body felt warm, relaxed, almost limp. It was a fight to stay upright. “What happens when the Sister finds out that you are lying to her?”

“I don’t know exactly - I just know it’s not gonna be good.” The Cardinal’s words were beginning to slur, the effects of your blood clearly taking hold of him as the wine had taken you. “I’d be forced to step down as head of the Church probably, and she’d take control of your interrogation. And she has so many plans for you. She’d be so much worse than me.”

That you didn’t doubt. In such a short time, and with little interactions, you had a feeling she’d take joy in destroying you. And suddenly, you found yourself grateful for the Cardinal.

“I can’t stop thinking about the other day,” the Cardinal began, looking at you directly in your eyes, “what I did to you when I had control of your halo. I know Celestial beings are supposed to be pure, but did you know what I was doing?”

“I knew that it was sexual.” You replied, honestly. “And I saw that you liked it. Why did you stop?”

“Because you didn’t consent. Did you want me to stop?”

You nodded a little. “Then, I did. But now…”

The Cardinal let out a short exhale, “You’re unsure.” He finished his glass and poured you both another. At this point in the night, it was your third glass each.

“Why did you feel the need to exert control over me in that way?” You asked, taking another sip. “Was it just a display of power, or was there something else driving your actions?”

“Something else. I wasn’t in control of myself. My body did what it wanted. And the sight of you, on your knees, eyes wide and unsure. I wanted to make you cry. I wanted to feel you from the inside out.”

The Cardinal’s words were having an effect on you, more than you ever knew could be possible. A weird feeling swept through you as the Cardinal’s words passed over you. It was a stirring of something deeper within you, not fear or disgust as one might expect. There was an irresistible charm to his candour, a rawness that appealed to the primitive urges hidden deep within your celestial essence, even though his confession was unsettling.

You were drawn to his vulnerability in sharing such personal thoughts with you and enthralled by the intensity of his desires. It was as though a curtain had been drawn back to show you a side of the Cardinal you had only ever seen during the shadow of secrecy and darkness. It was odd, but you found yourself drawn to it, drawn to him, in a way that excited and scared you at the same time.

Something inside you sparked at the Cardinal’s admission, an innate desire that throbbed beneath the surface of your celestial body. Something pulled at the very fabric of your being, a sensation unlike anything you had ever felt before—a blending of curiosity and desire. And as you locked eyes with him, there was a silent understanding that grew between you, an acceptance of the unspoken truths that united you in ways you could not have fully imagined.

If he did the same thing to you now - you weren’t confident you’d push him away.

The Cardinal studied you intently, his eyes following the minute changes that danced over your heavenly body. Your essence seemed to pulse with a newfound intensity that reflected his own desires, and he could feel the shift in your energy. You had a hunger in your eyes, a primal longing that expressed so much without saying a word.

The Cardinal felt a rush of excitement and anticipation as soon as he realised that you were sincere about your feelings. It set his senses alight and made his pulse race. He was drawn into the depths of a connection that felt both forbidden and irresistible by the flicker of desire dancing in your eyes. It was a silent invitation that beckoned him closer.

He stood and walked over to you, that same predatory look in his eye that this time, you welcomed. You were going to blame it on the alcohol, but perhaps that would be your first lie.

“Do you like the thought of that, Angel?” He teased, approaching you slowly as if you would run from him at the slightest movement.

You found yourself nodding, unable to stop yourself before you realised the implications of what you’d just confirmed. He stood in front of you, reaching his gloved hand to place it on your chin and allow the leather atop his thumb to graze over your lips a second time.

You swallowed, “Wh-why are you turning m-me into a demon?” You asked, breathlessly, still trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite the alcohol running through your veins, and the heat pooling between your legs.

“Because we thought it would make you easier to control.” The Cardinal whispered, dropping his face close to yours. “We didn’t know how to bend you to our will using your halo, so we wanted to drag you to Hell with us. How old are you, Angel?”

“Older than matter.”

“And you’ve been so deprived for so long? Sweet angel, no wonder you’re the way that you are.” His face was now mere centimetres from yours, you could feel his breath fanning above your top lip as he spoke. “You’ve already committed the worst sin imaginable for an angel, haven’t you? Questioning him and being shunned for it.” He put his gloved hands on yours and pulled you off the chair, raising your left one to his lips. “One more sin couldn’t hurt, could it?”

His lips trailed up your arm and ended their journey at the crook of your neck, where he licked and kissed at the sensitive skin. The heat between your legs became unbearable, as your fingertips clutched onto his arms. Your body was fighting against itself, your arms pushing him away, but fingers pulling him towards you. You sighed at the newfound sensitivity, now realising how incredible it felt to have someone there, lavishing you with gentle touches and sin.

This was a sin. You should fight against it, and fight harder.

“It is God’s will that I should be sanctified,” you muttered, breathlessly, recalling the words of the Almighty that you’d remembered, “that I should avoid immorality; that I should learn to control mine own body in a way that is holy and honorable, not in passionate lust like the pagans, who do not know God.”

You felt Copia smile into your neck, his ministrations stopping temporarily. “Matthew 26:41: ‘Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’” You felt the Cardinal’s hands move to your waist and pull you flush against his hard body, something particularly hard poking out from beneath his cassock and hitting against your hip. “All flesh is weak, Angel. Even yours. Can you do it, I wonder? Can you resist me despite your body calling for me?”

You lifted your hand to his hair and tugged it, pulling his head away from you. You looked into his eyes, dark and lustful as they bore into your soul, reading you like an open book so willing to be read. Your mind was screaming at you, yelling at you to push him away. But your hands, of their own free will, grasped onto his neck and pulled him towards you, your lips crashing onto his with such force, it almost hurt.

His tongue entered your mouth desperately, leading the kiss despite you initiating it. It was your first, and it had taken your breath away whilst heightening all your other senses. You could feel the way his moustache tickled your upper lip, the ferociousness of his tongue sliding against yours as he gave himself over to the pleasure with no resistence. His gloved hands tightened on your waist, and pushed you against the table, forcing you to sit on top of it and spread your legs, inviting him between them.

That tongue tasted like your blood, and you should feel repulsed by the monster who took what he wanted from your body, now in more ways than one. But the iron tang of your blood on him excited and thrilled you in a way it shouldn’t - in a way that would have you cast into the Abyss with no one looking back.

Your nipples hardened beneath your white robe, and wetness seeped out from between your thighs. Your heart was rushing a million miles per minute, and your lungs could barely keep up. And all the while, the Cardinal’s hands roamed over your body, travelling, gripping, groping, and pulling at your flesh.

He could feel your nipples poking through your robes, the way your hips unknowingly bucked against his hardness, begging for him to ravage you right there. Whimpers had begun to fall from your lips as you lost yourself into the warmth of his body, allowing his own to swallow them and feed him, fuel his desires to have you.

You moaned deliciously when his gloved hand rested on your thigh, pulling the white fabric up to expose your skin, and you truly sounded heavenly when the same thumb that had been in your mouth weeks before, and traced over your lips today, made contact with a sensitive bundle of nerves and you gasped, breaking the kiss and looking into his lustful eyes.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, his voice gravelly and quiet. You shook your head and it earned a chuckle. “So innocent.” His voice was gentle, filled with a condescension that made your stomach flip. “So neglected. Given a body and not shown how to use it. This is called a clitoris.” He kissed you again and put more pressure on your clit, making you moan a little louder. “When I play with it, I can make you sing. I can make you reach a place more divine than Heaven. Does it feel good, Angel?”

“Yes!” You hissed, your eyebrows furrowing upwards and your mouth falling open. Your nostrils flared as your body tried to take in as much oxygen as it could, especially when the Cardinal picked up the pace and continued to rub circles into your flesh.

“You never touched yourself, have you?” He asked. He knew the answer, so he didn’t expect you to respond. “You should. The beauty of this form is that you can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.” He nibbled at your jaw. “However you want.” Your body tensed. “Virgins are so easy to please. So quick to cum.”

Your toes curled, your back arched, your voice screamed out as your nails dug into the thick fabric of his clothes. His fingers kept working the surface, never dipping inside or changing their speed.

“Can you feel it, Angel?” He asked, licking over your top lip. “The pressure building inside you? Feeling like you’re about to burst open?”

“Y-yes!” Your moans were wanton now, unabashed. You didn’t even think to be quiet, this felt too good to think of anything else.

“When you’re ready, let it happen. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself explode.”

“It’s too m-much!” You cried out, hips bucking of their own accord into the Cardinal’s hand.

“Aw,” he feigned sympathy, “I know, baby. Your first orgasm. Don’t look away from me. Look into my eyes when it happens, okay?”

“Okay-ah!”

It didn’t take much more until your whole body spasmed. You didn’t know what the sensation was, and there was a little fear in your eyes as it first began to take hold of you, freezing your body down to your breath and holding you there. The sensitivity on your clit spread everywhere, to your toes, up to your brain. You could practically taste it on your tongue. All the while, you continued to look into your tormentor’s eyes, mouth agape and lungs fighting for air that left your body long ago.

The Cardinal stared at you the whole time, eyes pinned on your face and studying your reaction to your first orgasm, taking untold pleasures from it.

“How was that?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“G-good.” You replied, breathlessly, eyes closing over.

The Cardinal laughed, something small and new. “Don’t rest on me, yet.” You watched him fumble at his crotch and pull himself out from between the buttons of his cassock, but you didn’t get the chance to see… him.

You felt him rub against your folds, the tip stroking against your clit as he rocked back and forth. Both of you hissed at the contact, for you because of your sensitivity, and for him because he was finally getting some pleasure. He was thick, and heavy, and slid against your folds so well you had to grip onto the desk just because your hands needed something to hold.

Every now and then, you could feel the tip at your entrance where he’d pulled back a little too far, and the first time he did it your eyes shot open in panic. “Not in - ah! - not inside! Please! He’ll s-see.”

The Cardinal groaned, pushing forward involuntarily and sighing at the feeling of your wetness coating him. “I won’t.” He reassured you. “I want to, though.”

“You can’t!”

“I know. You th-think he’s watching, Angel?” The Cardinal chuckled as he picked up the pace. “You think your god is watching one of his angels get - fuck! - ruined by a son of Satan?”

You felt your hole clench around nothing. You shouldn’t - but you did.

“Good,” the Cardinal continued, holding onto your hips to help him use you, “let him see. I want him to see what happens when he neglects his creations. When his creations discover themselves. Fuck, you’re so wet!”

Your back arched further, pressing your hips against him more firmly. You leaned back, allowing your shoulders to hit the wall behind you and rest against the brick, as much as your tied wings would allow anyway. He watched your body jiggling as he rubbed against it, wondering how much more you’d do so when he was thrusting in and out of your virgin hole. He thought about how tight you’d be. He knew a virgin being tight was nothing more than misogynistic propaganda, but he couldn’t help but think about it. He watched your tits bounce with each thrust, and stared at the way your nipples continued to poke through the fabric, begging to be teased and bitten.

“Pinch your nipples.” He ordered.

You moved your hands up to where he wanted them and began to rub over the peaks, pinching them between your thumbs and forefingers and moaning loudly at the sensation - feeling your hole clench around nothing again. Everything he was doing to you, everything he got you to do to yourself, felt exquisite. You understood, now, why you’d watch entire civilisations descend into madness and violence just to feel the warmth of another body in the victorious afterglow. You understood why this would be a celebratory act because you felt nothing but pleasure - a high you’d never experienced before, not even up in Heaven serving the almighty.

The thought should scare you. The fact that you were turning to sin, and had done so so easily should have terrified you beyond belief. But you pinched your nipples harder, crying out as the Cardinal’s cock grazed over your clit for the millionth time, about to reach your second orgasm of the night.

The second one was just as powerful as the first, so earth-shatteringly good your toes curled again and you bit your lip so hard, you could taste your own blood. Your whole body tingled under your touch and his, barely registering his groan before you felt something wet on your pubic mound and dripping down your labia onto the table below you. You sat up and looked, finally seeing him in his entirety. The Cardinal had orgasmed, too, except his was much messier. Your body and his was covered in the whiteness that had spewed from him, and while you didn’t know the name, you knew that it was needed to bring life into the world.

The Cardinal was red-faced and panting from the exertion, as were you. Both of you spent and clear headed.

Clear headed.

Your mind began racing, thinking about what you’d just done. When the passion faded, a flood of contradictory thoughts and emotions swept over you along with a wave of clarity. You noticed the Cardinal’s laboured breathing and his conflicted expression of vulnerability and satisfaction. You realised that what you had just shared was more than just physical pleasure; it was an intimate moment between two creatures who had previously been bound by circumstance and desire.

But as the reality of the situation settled in, so did the weight of guilt and uncertainty. You couldn’t ignore the implications of what had transpired in the wine cellar. Despite the intense connection you had felt in the heat of the moment, you knew deep down that this was not how things were meant to be. You were an angel, a child of the Almighty and a being of righteousness, and he was a vampyre—a man of the cloth, sworn to uphold the debauchery of his Satan’s might.

As soon as the Cardinal’s eyes met yours, you could see the same turmoil in them. He was obviously thinking about the consequences of what you had done. Now that the lines between you had been crossed, you had to deal with the fallout.

When you looked at the potential repercussions of your sin, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret. How would this affect your relationship with him, which was already tense? What about the Sister, who would be furious after learning everything the Cardinal had revealed to you?

What about your God? How disappointed He’d be if He saw you now, nothing more than a whore for the Devil? Giving yourself so willingly to him despite all of the Almighty’s teachings… letting Lucifer into your heart when you should have cast him out.

But in the middle of all of this chaos, there was also a moment of brief relief from the bonds that had held you captive for so long. For a split second, you had given in to lust and accepted the forbidden fruit of passion.

The Cardinal grabbed a serviette from one of the shelves and cleaned you both up, before straightening himself out again. He watched you, saw your demeanour shift back to the wariness you used to have when he first let you out of the cage. You couldn’t ascertain his thoughts, but he knew you were absolutely regretting what had just transpired between you.

One thing became obvious as you sat there, trying to make sense of the tangled mess of emotions whirling inside of you: the relationship between you and the Cardinal would never be the same. The friendship that had been formed in the wine cellar had changed your lives forever, for better or worse. You had no choice but to wait and see where fate would lead you as you faced the uncertain future that lay ahead.

That morning, as you both made your way into his chamber and he’d removed the restraints from your wings, you willingly crawled into your cage, curled up, and hid yourself from his view. You didn’t get much sleep that day.

Prev./Next

He’s so fucking cute

I made a gif of her smoothing his hair back because I cannot get over the way he looks so vulnerable here

🐧

hot silly penguin man hot

[x]

OMG🥺🥺

Overwhelmed by too many kisses. Too much to handle.

I will never forget your eyes…

Never…