#ghost writes

Father Jud is a pleaser, a giver, a service provider. His title of priesthood is one he wears daily— a servant and conduit of God and the gospel. Jud exists to serve his people who enter the double doors of his (inherited) chapel and sit in the pews to listen to His word. He exists to guide sinful souls to the path of God, so he sits in the confessional and listens to the words of the damned and attempt to guide them to salvation.

But it’s hard for Father Jud to remain unaffected by the confessions he hears. He hears so much constantly every time he wears his clerical collar— the darkest truths one can carry are spoken into his ears. He struggles daily to shoulder those truths while living; he has to do so in order to remain strong enough to carry out his acts of service, but sometimes he has a penitent confess in such a way he can’t help but want to do more than what’s expected in pastoral care. But how can he resist the need to protect his flock when he knows so much about them?

How can he resist you?

You, who is new to the town and new to the faith, as far as he knows. You have your questions and fundamental truths that the faith cannot change, which sets you far apart from the rest of the flock Father Jud has come to know and care for. He always wants to hear more from you, egging you into expanding on all of your thoughts and questions to understand you deeper. He claims it’s in order to serve you best, but you can’t help but second guess if there’s ulterior motives when noticing his eyes lingering at your lips when you speak, or your body when you stand up to leave. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t stare at Father Jud in a similar manner. Honestly… you are a liar for saying the faith is what brought you through those cathedral doors. You entered this church with architectural interest, you just decided to stay when the way-too-attractive-to-be-a-priest showed you the sincere care and attention you’ve been deprived of for far too long.

You feared judgement from the other church goers if they learned your truth, so you’ve asked Father Jud for a private moment to confess your lie— your sin. You didn’t think your request would lead you to an empty church on a rainy night, however. Sitting in the front pew looking up at the tall cleric who’s looking down at you with big fluttering eyelashes and a giant cross in the background weighs heavy, but it’s the ideal circumstance to reveal the truth.

“So, what can I do for you, my Child?”

You gulp on air at the sudden break in silence, your hands instantly getting sweaty. Why are you getting so nervous? This is by far not the worst thing you’ve confessed to the man, but the unpredictability of his reaction is what scares you. So you speak your truth, “Please, forgive me, Father, for I have lied to you since the moment we met. I am not one of faith, at least not one as devoted as you. I came here because I wanted to see the inside of these church walls after admiring them from the outside for so long. I didn’t mean to start regular attending but when you greeted me and invited me in, I couldn’t say no. And so I kept coming back— for you.”

He hums in response, his hands clasped in front of him as he nods. He takes a moment to contemplate his words before questioning, “Why is it that you requested a private meeting with me?”

Your eyebrows furrow. Why is that the question he asks? You take a second before responding, “I… I just wanted to confess-“

He cuts you off, “No. You’ve confessed to me before during service hours with no problem. Why did you want to meet with me privately?”

Suddenly having the man of God stare down at you feels intimidating. You could tell him your fear of confessing within proximity of devoted churchgoers, but even you know that is only a partial truth. Why did you ask for a private meeting? Your thoughts start racing along with your heart as you break eye contact with the man in front of you.

Before you can get too lost in your own head, you see Father Jud step closer and kneel before you. A hand reaches to your knee and outer upper thigh. Your eyes instantly lock into the touch, to the big hand resting on you before traveling up the sleeved arm, up his collared neck adorned with the colored tattoo, to his face with his beautiful eyes staring back. Your heart begins to race along with your thoughts— there’s a kneeling priest before you and you feel your lower body begin to match the heat of his hand on you.

You begin to stutter quietly, “Father, I-” before getting cut off by Jud, “Lying is one of the most common sins, did you know? Your confession weighs little in comparison to others, but of course that’s not something you’re suppose to do either; much like how you’re not supposed to stare at a member of the clergy with lust during service.”

Blood rushes throughout your body as your heartbeat quickens. You feel Father Jud’s hand tighten around you as you two both stare into each other’s dilated eyes. You’re at a loss for words. So Father Jud continues, “I know the people of this church, this town. I know the face of a sinner when they carry their sin so heavily and so closely to the surface that it’s threatening to spill. I know the face of lust and want and need. Tell me, my Child, what is it that you need from me? Why is it that you called for this private meeting?”

Your hand lays on top of his, gripping softly, “Forgive me Father, for the lust and want ravage me. It needs- I need you.”

He smiles, “You have me, sweet sinner.” He caresses your knees and thighs with two hands now, “Now tell me, where do you need me? Show me.”

You stay still for a moment as you look into his eyes for any possible signs of doubt. But when you stare into his nearly black orbs, all you see is sincerity and lust, maybe even a need to service— one you’ve seen him wear often as he performs his heavenly duties. It feels wrong to undress in front of a cleric, but you’ve never seen a man on his knees if it wasn’t out of desperation or salvation.

You lift your hips for a brief moment to pull down your bottoms before sitting back on the pew, spreading your legs before him. Father Jud stares at the center mass between your legs, his eyes and tongue watering at the sight. He can’t help the tightening of his own pants as his hands comes into contact with your bare thighs. He massages your thighs lightly as he adjusts to the warmness without fabric in the way. His eyes are locked to what is between your legs— he bites his bottom lips as he watches wetness exude from between.

His heartbeat races in excitement and in shame. He knows he will have to pay penance for this later. He knows you are breaking his devotion to God, but how can he tell the difference between devoting to God and devoting to you? How can he differentiate the Heaven he reads and the one he sees right in front of him?

He inches closer to your throbbing warm center. He inhales your scent deeply, saving it in his memory, before exhaling heavily. You twitch at the feeling of his hot breath so close to where you needed him most, unable to hold back the whimper and buckle of your hips towards him. Father Jud lets out a low moan at your neediness.

Before showing you mercy, he looks up at the ceiling and does the sign of the cross as he quietly prays, “Bless me Father for I am about to sin.”

Part 2 can be read here

It's a rare day that Colt has a day off and his partner doesn't. He spends the day doing idle tasks and cleaning up a bit. Trying to find something to do, something to stop him from sending "I miss you! Hope you're having a good day" text every few hours, and some chores just genuinely need to be done.

When his partner comes home, he's sitting on the couch half watching some random show while going over some stunt notes that Dan wanted him to look over before tomorrow. He hears the door close and the rustling of his partner moving around.

"Colt? I'm home!" They call out.

Colt put the papers down on the seat next to him as he hops off the couch, walking almost a bit to quickly to the front door. The moment his partners sees him, they run up to him- practically jumping into his arms. Their arms slinging around his neck as they pull him in for a kiss. He of course welcomes the kiss, wrapping his arms around their middle to pull them in for a hug. His partner moves to pepper the rest of his face with kisses, he can't help but let out a small laugh.

"Did ya miss me that much?" He says it mainly to tease them, calling attention to the some what abnormal greeting.

"I always miss you." They tell him, planting another kiss on his mouth. "Spent half my day just thinking about coming back home to you."

A blush rises to his cheeks. He's said that to his partner many...many times before, but being on the other side of it is making his head all fuzzy. For once he's speechless, and decides to hide his face in the crook of their neck instead of embarrassing himself more by trying to talk. The action only makes his partner chuckle, as their hold on him tightens.

"You're always on my mind Colt, you do know that right?" He hears them say, the heat in his cheeks growing. "I worry about you being safe at work, if your day is going well, if you had enough to eat, what stupid movie puns you're going to tell me later. You're always there."

Chris:

There was nothing that you loved more than crawling into bed at the end of the long day, something that was only made more enjoyable now that you had someone to settle down with for the night. Chris slept hot, always. It was a blessing in the winter, being able to curl up against your own personal heater. But, he was also no stranger to the nefarious pranks from his band mates, meaning he always had to be somewhat clothed. Often opting for a thin pair of basketball shorts, maybe a T-shirt if it was particularly cold that night. Chris absolutely adores sleeping skin to skin if that's something you're comfortable with. He loves having you pressed to his strong chest, his fingers lazily dragging over your muscles, feeling how they shifted under his delicate touch. Your nights would always be filled with hushed conversations and laughter, Chris unable to stop himself from stealing chaste kisses that would leave you giggling until you eventually drifted off to sleep in his arms.

Jim:

Sleeping with Jim was always a mess of tangled limbs as he crushed you underneath his massive body. Usually opting to sleep in just his boxers it always presented you the perfect opportunity to cuddle up with him. He would open his arms for you to crawl into, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you nestled against him, your body molding perfectly against his. You were the puzzle piece he never knew he needed up until the fateful day you two had met. Now, he couldn’t imagine spending a night away from you. Whether it was crammed into one of the bunks in the tour bus, or being sprawled out across his too big bed, only to end up tangled together in the middle of the mattress come morning, Jim always needed you within arms reach, he couldn’t sleep otherwise. “Come here, baby.” He mumbles groggily. He hikes your leg over his hip, the heavy weight of his muscular arm settling across your waist. “Comfy?” He asks quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as you let out a hum in response. He gently cards his fingers through your hair, the steady rise and fall of his chest eventually lulling you to sleep.

Mick:

Mick chuckles as you pout at him from the edge of the bed. “Just go grab one of my shirts out of the drawer, love.”

“But, yours is warm.” You whine in response. “And it smells like you.” He sighs, eyeing you playfully.

“Always so needy, aren’t you mama?” He teases, letting out a soft laugh at the sight of your flustered expression. “Anything for my pretty girl.” He slips his T-shirt over his head, leaving him in a pair of simple, black sweatpants. You pull the soft fabric over your head, the way too big shirt pooling around your thighs. Mick lets out a quiet hum as his gaze drags hungrily over you.

“I definitely can’t complain about you stealing my clothes when you look like that.” He takes your hand, pulling you into bed next to him. You settle against his strong chest smiling as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Good night, you little thief.” He teases, making you laugh. You share a few more soft kisses until you eventually drift off in his arms.

Joey:

Joey groans, rolling out his shoulders as he kicks the hotel room door shut behind you. “You were incredible out there tonight.” You say with a smile, your arms sliding over his shoulders.

“Yeah?” He grins back, letting out a hum as your lips slot against his. “It’s all thanks to you being there.” He whispers against your lips, stealing one more chaste kiss before pulling away. Your cheeks grow warm at his sweet words, the two of you separating in order to get ready for bed. You slip under the covers with a sigh, settling underneath the cover while you wait for Joey to finish up in the bathroom. “Jesus, it’s fucking freezing in here.” You hear him complain as his stark naked form darts from the bathroom, practically diving into the bed. You giggle, pulling him into your arms once you manage to find him under the mess of blankets.

“Well, maybe if you actually wore some clothes it wouldn’t be so cold.” You tease in response.

“Yeah, but this is so much more comfortable.” He rebuttals with a smirk. He wraps his arms around you, his head nestling against your chest, making you giggle in response. He lets out a hum of approval as you play with his hair, his breathing growing slow and even as he drifts off in your loving embrace.

Paul:

You squeal as Paul blankets his full weight on top of you, he groans as he settles, chuckling when he feels you struggling against him. “You’re crushing me!” You giggle, pounding on him with your fists.

“But, I have a crush on you.” He argues back with a laugh. Eventually giving in, he rolls over, pulling you on top of him in the process. You let out a pleased hum as he presses his lips to yours. You smile as you cuddle into him, your hands wandering over his strong chest and soft stomach, tracing along the waistband of the shorts he had worn to bed. “What are you doing?” He asks with a curious, playful smile.

“You just feel nice, that’s my favorite thing about cuddling with you is being able to rub my hands over you.” His features soften, studying you with an expression of pure adoration.

“You're sweet.” He cups your cheek in his hand, gently angling your jaw upward in order to place a gentle kiss to your lips. He pulls you against him, enjoying the feeling of your fingers absentmindedly wandering over him until you both eventually fell asleep.

Background/lore/basics: The Red Plague still hit Vesuvia and raged strong on battle fields. The only difference is instead of Lucio making a deal with the Wyrm of Pestilence to gain power which ended up leading to the plague’s release, an unnamed magician had made a deal with the Devil. The exact motives are unclear, with that magician long gone after being one of the first to succumb to the illness.

Lucio, after turning 18, was given more responsibility in his tribe and ended up getting involved in a war between two more powerful nations (Vesuvia and I suppose the second nation doesn’t really matter). This is the battle that lead to his arm being amputated by Doctor Devorak. After which, Vesuvia’s current Count requests Lucio’s presence. They become friends, Lucio slowly steps away from his tribe, and the title of Count is eventually given to Lucio.

Lucio ends up meeting Nadia during the first masquerade Vesuvia ever hosted. Lucio hoped it would be a good way to form bonds with other countries. They got married, and Nadia wanted more power than she was allotted as Countess. After six years of marriage, the Count was found dead in his wing by mysterious (magical) circumstances, leaving Nadia, the widowed Countess, to step up into his role as Vesuvia’s leader.

How characters are different than canon

Nadia Satrivana: Somewhere in the prologue in the game the MC mentions to themselves of rumors of Nadia being a tyrant. Put short, those aren’t rumors here. Nadia is a Satrivana, and one of the many princesses from Prakra. Her mother has a title of ruling one of the largest, most successful nations in history. All her elder sisters either are taking up ruling over domains of their own or finding a calling that sets them a part of one another. Being the youngest, Nadia was left feeling obsolete. There’s such prestige to live up to. She saw marrying Lucio to be a way to get her foot in the door.

She remains authoritative, direct, and strong, but is known to be quick to lose patience. She shows little grace to those who step out of line. She wants the image of a perfect city, even if she isn't improving enough aspects of Vesuvia quickly enough for such an image tobe properly upheld. She's not above fear tactics. She wants her word to be treated as law. Do not mutter under your breath in her presence, roll your eyes, click your tongue, or make it seem like your questioning her too much. She might throw you into the Colosseum to be the next source of entertainment for the nobles, while being the next example for everyone else. If not that, she still loves to be creative...

Asra Alnazar: A little orphan child that found himself to be gifted, and let that power go to his head. He had lost his parents far too young and was left to fend for himself. He was nothing better than a street rat with a few fancy tricks. One day, he met a magician. This magician, fascinated with the potential he showed being so young, gifted Asra Faust's egg and promised to show the kid great spells. This magician happened to be the same one the released the plague, of course Asra knew this individual before they fell I'll. The magician taught Asra magic, and poor morals surrounding it. The better you are at spells, the better you are. Seriously, you begin to rise above people. They begin to sink to be beneath you.

Egotistical is a good word to use. His business is composed of hasty deals made by people who are desperate. It's rumored he owns souls. He doesn't do anything unless he feels like there's something he can get return. Anyone who's heard the story of Lucio's death knows that the Great Magician Asra was involved. It becomes speculation of whether he was the murderer or not.

Lucio (Montag) Morgasson: He had a lot of big dreams and lofty goals. He dreamed of getting out of his tribe with it's more outdated and arguably primitive ways to see the progress through the rest of the world and be a part of that change. His enthusiasm did lead to reckless decisions, poor calls on occasion, and a fumble here or there. After all, he agreed to marry Nadia rather quickly with hopes that would boost his status faster to make work with other countries easier.

He really did have the best of intentions. It's a shame that the light of his future was so bright it blinded him of the present. He never saw his death coming. Now left as a ghost, he can't do anything really. Only Asra has seen his spectral presence lurking around. But that means both Nadia and Julian know he's still around too. It's best for Lucio's sake to stay clear of the magician, lest he gets banished to some, most likely unpleasant, realm. The late Count has been forced to stand by and watch the city he was slowly cultivating for greatness be plowed over and soiled with terror and mistreatment.

Julian (Ilyushka) Devorak: The doctor was so enamored with the plague. Where magic meets science, that's what those bright red beetles were. Yes. While Julian still doesn't care all that much for magic and doubts the fantastical aspects of it, he still sees it as something that can be studied and understood. He's theatrical and insensitive, at least if he doesn't care for you. That's the common denominator between all of Vesuvia's most feared names. If he doesn't like you, if any of them don't like you, just hope they don't acknowledge you. Blending in keeps you safe. Keeps you off the vivisection tables.

He remains loyal, protective, and charismatic. Only here, none of it is an attempt to hide insecurity or direct attention away from self-loathing tendencies. Julian is too emersed in his research and his position as the palace's most highly regarded physician to really reflect on himself. With his status, it seems kind of silly to. Nadia's actions in her position have rubbed off on other people. If you're in her circle, you can be regarded as being like her.

Portia (Pasha) Devorak: Now I'm being so honest, I struggled here. Not because Portia is a precious angel that could do no wrong, but because I struggled with how to make her cruel when her position in the palace is a servant. Nadia still has Portia as a favorite, so the redhead wouldn't have to fear about messing up or having other servants mishaps come back on her. What made most sense was to promote her a tad, not quite making her a courtier, as the tyrant has no court of second opinions that waste time.

She's in charge of all the palace servants. Chefs, maids, gardeners, tailors, you name it. Portia over sees them. From there, the best I could do was make her incredibly morally grey. Portia knows what's around her isn't right. Portia also knows she can't change anything. It may not be right, but things are working for her. She can just choose not to watch fights at the Colosseum. She can choose only to see her brother after he's cleaned himself off from whatever got on him in the palace basements. She can pity the servants or townspeople that found themselves unable to flee, but that hurts so she chooses not to. She can't think of everyone else like vermin yet, but she'll get there. She has to protect her own mind. For now, she just doesn't get involved.

Muriel: He didn't like hurting people as a child. That stayed true at least. When a group of orphans wouldnt leave him alone he was left with little options. They needed him to steal, to confront shop owners while the rest of them got away. He got tired of it and I'd what he had to in order to get them off his back. After that he was aimless. Asra, his good friend, got him a place of higher standing. Nadia still saw Muriel as valuable for his size and strength and put him in charge of the Colosseum. He learned that hurting people wasn't that bad. He's learned to not mind the screams and the killing. It's a dog eat dog world. Do or die. If he wasn't who he was, he could very well be the people he executes. This is for his survival.

He's still terribly reclusive. He gets invited to events often but won't attend unless Asra will be there. He can still count on one hand the people he tolerates. He's still quiet, still ominous, intimidating, scary...

Now on the other hand, the courtiers, were some of the people to help individuals out of Vesuvia when things went bad. They themselves fled after they helped as many as they could.

And I'm sure you're wondering where the MC, the beloved apprentice of Asra, comes into this? Well, if this sounds super cool, I'd be willing to write a fic on this AU. My plans for that would be that the MC, who I'm gonna refer to as (Name) moving forward, would be trying to kick start and lead a rebellion. The courtiers are her support system (I like writing for fem self inserts, that's my preference, that's what I'm gonna do). (Name) takes on a few different aliases to try and gather information from multiple sides. As the rebel leader, she's a thorn in Nadia's side. As the thought-to-be-deceased apprentice of Asra and aid to Doctor Devorak, she haunts the narrative as someone dearly missed, especially since its seems the attempted rivival ritual was unsuccessful (to the eyes of Nadia's circle). And, as the quirkly travelling jester, coming to Vesuvia every now and again on business, even when heavily concealed and disguised, the current nobles of Vesuvia can't help but feel connected. Something is familiar about that jester, who buys up people in unfortunate situations, loves the arts, how they speak of people. No one can put their fingers on it. And when said jester refuses to take off their mask, it can't help but be frustrating.

The six romance options in canon would serve as love interests of course. And since I'm a firm believer we are lacking yandere Arcana content, that would be the trope I dabble with.

There would be dark themes to expect if course. If I actually sit down to write this I'll be able to come up with a proper list.