#ghostb.c

No 'cause I really want to read a fic with Papa 2 dealing with a child of his, having to learn how diapers fucking work, searching the only child appropriate Book of the clergy library, handling Dew because he's a feral big brother and 3 because he's a crazy gay uncle, and most importantly learning how to be a Good Father© because he's so scared to make the same mistakes Nihil did for him.

My current Funko Pop (this is gonna be Banana Ghoul 🍌 )

My current fanfiction (crossover Ghost and Versailles, it's 17 chapters for now). I don't even know why I censor it, it's in french before we translate it

My current drawing (that's Rain as the Justice tarot card 🌧️)

My current painting :)

The embroidery I did last year...

And the one I do this year (will be super colorful, inspired by Nihil Era :p )

TW: blood (nobody harmed in the chapter), pressure to have a child

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How To Raise Ghost's Child

Chapter 1

When will you have an heir, Dante? Why is it that you still don't have any children at your age? You're the older one, Dante, it's time for you to produce an heir to the clergy. Your brother is too irresponsible to have a baby, but why do you still wear condoms with women? Why, who, when, Dante?

It pissed him off. As the second -well, third technically- Papa of a gigantic satanist church he had his fair of responsibilities and paperwork. All day long he would plan the next band tour, the meetings to write the songs and design goodies, the interviews for Alessandro, the taxes of all sorts. He really, really had other things to do than bend to Nihil's demands and produce a child with a random woman he wouldn't be attracted to. There was no point to that.

He forced his steps in the Ministrys’ corridors, a huge pile of important papers under his right arm, a cup of coffee in his other hand. It was quite late and he still had to send a dozen emails before calling it a day -may the Internet be alive. Most of the Siblings of Sin were already asleep in their dorms, the ghouls piled in theirs, and his brother must have been partying somewhere. Really, the weight of the church incombed to him alone and he could do a better use of his free time than changing diapers and caring for the mother of the potential child.

It was ironic of Nihil, really, to press him into having a child when he had no responsibility in the church anymore and never cared for him and Alessandro anyway except to turn them against each other. No, really, he had no use of a child and no time for it no matter what.

But… If he didn’t want to oblige Nihil… why was he feeling a growing void in his chest? What force made him stop before the childrens’ department in the stores he went to? Why had he felt his heart melt a bit -just a bit- at the sight of a baby in a carrier the other day? He had everything he needed to be functional, and yet he felt like he could have something more. Something with a deeper meaning than paperwork and coffee - and coffee was the love of his life.

I took him a very, very long walk around the Ministry until the first lights of the day, long after he had his job done, to stop his mind on a choice: he wanted a baby. And he, in fact, knew just the right person to ask that to.

*

Dante placed the last candle on the floor, on the tip of the pentagrams' branch. He rummaged his robes' pockets until he found his lighter, and set alight the meche.

He carefuly took a step back to admire his setup, paying attention not to burn his robes. The pentagram on the center of the chapel glowed warmly in the darkness, illuminating the cold stones of the floor.

It was the middle of the night, and no one would bother Dante in his private ceremony.

He rolled his long sleeves up above his elbows, grabbed the bowl of blood he left on a nearby bench and proceeded to splatter the half-coagulated liquid on the ceremonial drawing. He was quite pleased to see that no blood stained his clothes in the process; he wouldn't have to explain himself in too much extents if he were to meet someone in the early morning.

Placing the bowl back on the bench, he faced the circle of tightly written incantation and extended his arms widely. The silence of the chapel was almost painful near midnight and his own voice came as a relief:

"Oh Satan all mighty, You who gifted me with the reponsability of your Word. I give all my devotion to you, night and day, for you are the One and Only. Your Light bath me every day, and I am here before you to ask you to bath someone else with me in Your mighty light. Oh Satan all mighty, gift me a child. A child I could raise in Your name, a child I could take care of like you took care of me.

He felt a bit stupid, standing there and asking the void for a baby -Alessandro would never stop laughing at him if he witnessed that- but, he felt the force pushing him again and he finished his lithany: "Satan, please, give me a child."

He bended in respect and waited. Only the silence answered him, and the blood beating strongly in his ears. After a few minutes bended, his back began to hurt. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay still in the unconfortable position. Ten minutes later, no one had aswered him and his back was aching so badly he felt that maybe he would never be able to rise again. He began to loose hope. Satan was probably mocking him and telling him to get back to work.

He slowly rised, careful of his back, and rested his gaze upon the now dried blood and stained white pentagram. He felt tired. The flickering flames of the half-melted candles didn't help. He must have had a few hours only to clean his own mess, and he would definitly skip sleep. Cleaning, shower, coffee, back to another day of work trying not to feel like a complete fool.

He sighted and was about to turn around to fetch a bucket and a mop when flames suddenly bursted from the pentagram. Papa II took a step back, startled. He looked half anxiously half expectantly into the red and blue fire that consumed every bit of the dark blood.

When the fire finally went down and disappeared, it revealed an egg.

Dante suddenly felt so stupid. What was he still expecting? An actual baby? He asked Satan, and Satan mocked him. What a fool he had been.

He bent down, because he definitely didn't want anyone to find a damn egg the size of an american footballs' ball in the middle of the chapel, and softly poked the shell to check it's heat. Surprisingly, it was nicely warm and he lifted it with a little effort but no pain.

The egg loved into his arms felt… alive? It was soft, warm, it smelled good, it… had a heartbeat. It had a heartbeat! The 2nd Papa stucked his ear to the shell, trying to listen more carefully. It definitely was a slow but regular heartbeat.