#copia;

so @quod-quartus (aka @thornvale ) sent me one of three prints of the Ghost art she did all the way from the UK to my little corner of America; she owns one, I own one (omg), and Tobias owns one 😭🖤

I kinda draw sometimes

“Here is where the rituals took place. Perhaps, as you look into the skeletal eyes of the dear Papas on the walls, you can see what they have seen.” - @quod-quartus

The sigil carved into her skin throbbed as her back slowly pressed into the ritual chamber’s stone wall. Her fingers spread over the rough masonry until her palms flattened out. Her lips were locked, but a small chirp of discomfort escaped. Caroline tucked her chin close to her chest, blinking furiously at the collar around Copia’s neck as fever swept up her body. The bruises ringing his neck, given to him in this same room, had long since faded, but if one looked closely, as she was, faint yellow splotches betrayed skin that was still healing. Her hand wedged between them quickly, barely catching his stomach before it was sandwiched between their middles. The places where their bodies touched already were too numerous to allow anything to progress further. As it stood, she could feel the layer of softness that protected the muscle in his abdomen, and his warm breath tickled her forehead as he goaded her. It was far more than enough for her tastes. It was unnerving. He was unnerving. Still, looking up felt too vulnerable right now, as if all her inner-workings would be visible in the black pupil of her eyes if he was allowed to look at her so intimately for too long.  

Caroline was startled from her thoughts by a small movement of the Cardinal’s leg. Her fingers clutched the fabric spread across his stomach in alarm, and a scowl bent her lips. Their heartbeats would indeed be transparent to each other, even shared at the moment. Denial would be fruitless, for his discerning logic had pinned her fears easily. She chewed the inside of her lip, but quickly decided to look up, cooly defiant. 

bad ritual, timber timbre 

save yourself, kaleo

drink the water, justin cross

two evils, bastille

before you snap, yonderboi

greek tragedy, the wombats (bastille remix)

the driver, bastille

dance with the devil, breaking benjamin

“W-wait. What?” Caroline stuttered, blinking quickly to dispel the fog of his meaning. She huffed an empty laugh, thinking him joking, despite the air of stillness in his face, like the receding waters preceding a tsunami.