King. 36. She/They. Ghost, hierophilia, a little smut. MDNI. Mostly here for Swiss and Phantom. I follow back from @seasaltstedman! @Dolly-macabre is my wife 💜✨
You are the only surviving resident of a sinking island in the Venetian Lagoon, but just because everyone else is dead doesn't mean you don't have plenty of company.
Primo lurks in the garden, hidden amongst the thorns, waiting to snag anyone who passes. Secondo is in the parlor, plucking at the strings of the harpsichord in the dead of night. Terzo is in one of the many bedrooms, pressed into the imprint he left on the bed the night he died. Copia is in the kitchen, humming softly and playing with the knives. Nihil and Imperator, inseparable even in death, loom on the upper gallery, watching the iron gates as the newest guest arrives.
did you know Papa Emeritus was originally a Nameless Ghoul? 💀🎭
in the very first iteration of the band Ghost's lore, Papa Emeritus I was counted as a Nameless Ghoul.
rather than describing the band as "Papa Emeritus I and a group of Nameless Ghouls", the band's old Myspace page describes them as six Nameless Ghouls. note the inclusion of Papa's face paint!
Standing motionless and anonymous beneath the painted faces, hoods and robes which their sect demand, the six nameless ghouls of Ghost deliver litanies of sexually pulsating heavy rock music and romantic lyrics, which glorify and glamorise the disgusting and sacrilegious [...]
Ghost official Myspace page (2010)
Papa himself also acknowledged his status as a Nameless Ghoul. in one interview, Papa says that they chose to be nameless because Ghost's audience are not meant to focus on any individual members of the band. the members of the band aren't supposed to have distinct identities.
You refer to yourselves as a group of nameless spirits - should this be taken literally? Is the band actually something other than human?
“To make it easier for mortals to deal with the fact that we, as individuals, have no significance in this experience, we have chosen to act as ghosts - hollow and diffuse.”
Sweden Rock Magazine #76 (November 2010)
Papa Emeritus I being counted as a Nameless Ghoul is notable because in the early versions of the lore, Papa Emeritus I was also undead / a zombie. this is further evidence of the Nameless Ghouls being undead servants of the cult, as described in the lore of Meliora era / Era 3.
Swiss and Aeon spend an evening together in their hearth. Mature, contains cockwarming. 800 words.
thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together <3
divider by @ghuleh-recs <3
Aeon towels off their hair, shivering as the air hits their still damp skin. “Just a second, ‘m coming,” they chirp, calling out from the bathroom to their bedroom.
“Take your time,” Swiss says, shirt halfway over his head as he changes into something comfortable. “I’m not going anywhere, neither is our bed.”
“Perfect,” Aeon sighs, before turning to brush their teeth quickly. They can hear mattress springs creaking as they spit foam into the sink, and any remaining tension that wasn’t melted away with a warm shower leaves them.
Swiss is waiting for them, sprawled out on his back with one arm up and tucked under the pillow his head’s resting on. He smiles, something lovesick and foolish, and pats the bed beside him.
Aeon eagerly takes him up on his invitation, curling into Swiss’s side. They can feel the steadiness of his pulse, and they take a deep breath of his scent and just melt. “Hi,” they whisper, rubbing their cheek against his sternum.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispers back, nosing into their hair. Can smell the chamomile and mint in their shampoo, the blackberry and ozone underneath that’s just them. He slings an arm around Aeon’s shoulders, holding them close.
“Love this,” they whisper. “Being here.”
“Me too,” Swiss says, kissing the crown of their head. He fumbles for the lights strung over the bed and around their room, lowering them until they’re just a faint purple glow. The curtains are drawn, the air just ever so slightly hazy from the jasmine incense Swiss had lit when Aeon’d gone to take a shower. It’s perfect, and warm, and Aeon draws the sheets and comforter up over them.
“Love you,” Aeon says, as easy as breathing.
“Love you too,” Swiss responds. He brings a hand up to card through their hair, curling a wave at the nape of their neck around his finger. “Your hair’s getting long, bug. You want me to cut it for you, sometime?”
Aeon shrugs, nuzzling in closer until it’s physically impossible without crawling inside of his ribs. “Was gonna try growing it out a little. Not yet.”
“Alright,” he hums. “It looks good like this. Very handsome.”
Aeon preens, a soft little trill escaping their lips. Swiss laughs, warm and rumbling through his chest. They can feel it more than they can hear it, though it makes their heart flutter all the same, no matter how many times they’ve made him laugh. “Thank you.”
His hand settles at the small of their back, rubbing a slow path up and down their spine. Aeon huffs, struggling to keep their eyes open. “Sleepy little bug,” Swiss teases, and Aeon cracks an eye open to glare halfheartedly.
“Keep it up and I won’t help you rebraid your hair tomorrow,” they threaten, though it doesn’t land.
“Oh, whatever should I do?” Swiss rumbles again, laughing low and soft. “I need my buggy’s help.”
Aeon sighs, trying to curl even tighter against him. “Wanna get closer.”
“Can make that happen,” he hums, reaching down to hitch their thigh over his hips. “This close enough, or do you want closer?”
“Closer, please,” they hum, helping him situate themself so they’re straddling him, his chest their pillow.
Swiss grins, kissing right between the points of their horns. His scent deepens, rich and spicy sweet like the chai blends Mountain makes. “Can make that happen, love.”
Aeon chirps, their tail flicking under the covers until Swiss’s winds around it. They shiver, nuzzling into his chest. “I should be all good f’r you,” they hum, his scent flooding their lungs, their own getting richer to match.
“My good boy,” he rumbles. “Sit up f’r me for a second?”
Aeon nods, even if the short distance as they prop themself up makes them whine.
“Thank you, love, just take a deep breath for me?” Swiss asks. The hand on their back skates lower until it leaves their body entirely. Aeon nods, even as their breath hitches as Swiss lines himself up.
They take a deep breath and slowly sink down into Swiss’s lap, groaning as he stretches them open. There’s a pinch in Swiss’s brow, his hand holding their hip tight. He doesn’t try to control their movements, just hanging on.
“Fuck,” they laugh, breathless as their hips meet. The stretch is just on the right side of too much, so full and so close.
“Fuck,” Swiss agrees. His hand slides back up Aeon’s spine, settling right between their shoulderblades as Aeon lays right back down on top of him. “Better?”
“Perfect,” Aeon hums, nuzzling at the line of his jaw, his stubble prickly against their cheek. “Thank you.”
“Anything,” Swiss whispers, devotion in every syllable. “I love you.”
Aeon moves to press their face into the bitemark on his throat. “I love you too.”
They both let themselves drift, content and warm and together and so in love.
