Bury Me Alive

Heard my name 🙋 here’s my lil twat waffle

Anyone can jump on 🙌

So I decided to make one of these picrew tag game things! But in a creepy way!

Picrew

CREEPYPASTA MAKER

!!GORE WARNING, SCARY AND UNSETTLING IMAGERY AHEAD!! !!WIP, WILL BE UPDATED!! Make a Creepypasta oc. Be cringe, or don't. Just enjoy i

tags (anyone can join tho!) : @coffin--coffee @scary-friend @d3cayingdolly @cult-of-lambs

FUCK. HYPNONE I LOVE YOU.

Why Have You Waited So Long? - You have come far, chapter 2

Come by, chapter 1

WC: 2380

Tags: Suicidal Thoughts, Near Death Experience, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: He wasn’t an attention whore, he really wasn’t, he was just- he was just so broken. It hurt so much. “It’ll get better, after the tour,” Phantom was telling himself, “they’ll warm up to me, it’ll get better. They’ll notice.”

Notes: due to a popular demand I present part two including some comfort. just a bit though because I do love angst, OKAY???

Read chapter 2 under the cut or on AO3.

Phantom was getting worse.

The solitude had made him sick, he knew it would happen. It wasn’t in ghoul’s nature to be alone, his system was protesting, begging Phantom to get help.

It wasn’t only his quintessence sounding alarms, trying to hold his small body from breaking with all its might. He saw himself rotting, he was getting paler and paler every day, skinnier too, his eyes were dull, barely any colour left in them, the tips of his horns were cracking and breaking off, crumbling into dust. Every day he woke up with more of it on his pillows.

He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, so he broke it, pieces of shattering glass assaulting his fist only adding to the sick satisfaction.

He had been barely leaving his room the whole break between European and American tours, only when absolutely needed. To get some food, once every two weeks or so. To sulk through additional rehearsals, pretending he was alive and well.

He wasn’t neither alive nor well.

Phantom felt bad about getting sick, at the beginning, thinking about how his sickness could ruin the rest of the tour. But then he thought Aether could get back, it would be an emergency. Did any of the people that would be met with problems after Phantom’s death deserve him feeling bad about it?

He wanted to say no, but he could never really hate anyone, so he told himself yes. Yes, he was awful for getting sick and yes, he’d be awful for dying, only causing problems.

But Phantom did survive the break. Somehow.

That was even worse than if he wouldn't, now he had to go and act like he was fine not only in front of himself or a few ghouls and Papa, no, now he had to fool thousands.

He didn’t think he’d manage.

He‘d been quiet during their journey, on the bus, in the hotel. He was too tired to speak and no one would listen to him anyway.

The day before the first show Phantom slept as much as possible, forcing his own quintessence to all but knock himself unconscious. He stumbled through preparations for the Ritual, through the soundcheck.

He squeezed out some quintessence that was not concentrated on keeping him alive to give himself somewhat of an energy boost, just before they stepped on stage. He never had any issues with handling the Fantomen, but that night it weighed him down impossibly more.

He just needed to get through the show, he could do that. He’d certainly try.

The lights were so bright. Too bright, even with the darkened lenses of their helmets.

It was too loud, the crowd, the music. 

Phantom’s clothes, even being looser than originally because of how much weight he had lost, were somehow too tight, too constricting.

He couldn’t breathe, he felt impossible weight crushing his chest. 

It hurt so much.

His head was pounding, vision blurry, the sound of blood pumping in his ears nauseating.

Phantom was sure that was it.

He felt awful for it. He couldn’t possibly be such an attention whore to drop dead in the middle of a performance, could he? He had to hold on, he didn’t want to ruin anyone’s night.

The show seemed to last forever, he thought it’d never end. That it’d be his punishment for being such a failure - being stuck in an endless loop of misery and agonising pain.

But it did end, finally.

Phantom doesn’t really remember chucking a bunch of picks at the audience, getting gifts from the fans, the bows. It was easier to zone out, not remember.

Because he’d have to remember the burning of a hand gripping his own, too.

He remembers getting off stage, tumbling down a few small steps and the thud his helmet made as it collided with the floor.

He made it through that one show… but no more.

***

“Lus, I- I can’t b- believe, how did we-” Phantom heard someone sobbing. Aurora, he thought, but he couldn’t make a sense out of her choked out words.

Wait.

Where was he?

“I know, sweetheart,” it had to be Cumulus now. Her voice also sounded… wet. “We failed, all of us, but don’t take it out on yourself.”

Phantom was… he was warm? Why was he warm, it was always so cold, what-

“Shhh, don’t freak out,” someone whispered, right into his ear. He panicked, suddenly too warm, too hot, melting. His only instinct was to run away, clawing at what tried to hold him in place. Or who.

Phantom scrambled away and bumped into something that was probably a corner of... wherever he was. He curled into a tight ball, tail wrapped around his body protectively and hissed. He didn’t want to look up, look around. He didn’t want to know where he was, who he was with. 

He just wanted to be gone. He didn’t want to hurt anymore.

“Phantom, hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re safe,” was it Swiss? It sounded like Swiss. 

Why was saying that, why was he lying?

Phantom lifted his head, just a bit, just enough to peek from behind his arms. It was Swiss. 

“Do you want me to get someone else? One of the girls? Rain?” he felt himself shaking his head. It looked like they were in the back lounge of their tour bus, it was turned into a big nest. The multi ghoul was crouching by one end of it, Phantom curled in the corner furthest away from him.

That warmth… was he-  was Swiss touching him?

“Breathe, bug, deep breaths,” he said and Phantom was so tired, so weak, he couldn’t not obey. He tried to breathe, sharp inhales followed by shaky exhales, over and over again.

Swiss was watching him like a hawk, barely even blinking. Phantom tried to curl into himself more, to hide from that intense stare, the attention he was not used to.

It seemed like ages had passed before the quintessence ghoul could be considered even relatively calm. Swiss didn’t move, only offered soothing words from time to time.

Phantom wanted to hate him, hate them all, but he was so exhausted and so lonely, he clinged to every single sound that escaped Swiss’ mouth like a lifeline. He was finally getting something, he finally got noticed. He had to treasure what he was getting now, it’d be over too quickly.

“There you go,” Swiss sighed, all sad. Why was he so sad? Did Phantom ruin the show after all? “Are you back with me?”

Phantom nodded. Was he, really?

“Okay, good. Can I come closer?” He thought about it for a moment? Did he want Swiss to get closer? To touch him? He thought he wanted nothing more in the world but what if it… what if it hurt? “I’ll be gentle, I promise, bug. I need you to trust me.”

Phantom nodded.

Swiss smiled softly, even though his eyes were betraying his sadness. He slowly crawled over to the quintessence ghoul, one hand carefully reaching out. It hovered over Phantom’s knee, Swiss searching for any signs of hesitation on the other’s side. He let it gently fall when he found none.

Phantom flinched, there was no way to prevent that, but soon sobbed in something like… relief.

“Good?” Swiss asked and received a nod in return. “More? Would you like a hug?”

“P- please,” he choked out, his throat tight, eyes burning with tears.

The multi ghoul slowly but surely wrapped his strong arms around Phantom’s shaking form, covering him whole with his body. He immediately went limp, wails tearing out of his throat as Swiss held him. “That’s it, let it out. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, bug. I’ve got you now, I won’t leave.”

Phantom could barely breathe, he was choking on tears, body convulsing in Swiss’ grip as he clinged to the multi ghoul like he’d turn to dust and disappear and Phantom would never be held again.

“Everything will be okay, I won’t leave you. I won’t let it get bad again, I’ve got you,” Swiss whispered, rocking them back and forth, doing his best to release some of his own quintessence into the room, even if now crying himself. 

How could he, all of them, be so blind, ignorant, awful? How did they miss all the signs, how did they let it get so bad? Why didn’t they take care of him from the beginning? What the fuck was wrong with them?

“N- no, you- you can’t give me h- hope, I can’t hope anymore,” Phantom cried and despite his words clutched Swiss tighter.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I-” Swiss sniffled, “there’s nothing I can do to fix it but-”

“Y- you can’t just- just decide to fix it n- now," the quintessence ghoul’s wails only increased in volume. How did they miss how broken he was? “It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know, fuck, I’m so sorry, lemme- please let me try to make it up to you, let me try to make it better, please, Phantom, I’m begging you, let me try.”

“You j- just feel bad I nearly flipped, it- it’s not real,” his words felt like a punch in the guts but Swiss knew how justified it was. He failed so fucking bad.

“No, it’s not- I mean, of course I feel fucking bad, you have no idea how bad. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to feel loved, it’s not- fuck, I don’t know what to say,” Swiss’ voice cracked. He thought that if Phantom really did die, he’d go right after him. How did they fail so badly?

“Just… just try, but I-” Phantom was hyperventilating, there was no breath left in his lungs. He hoped it wouldn’t get wasted by the things he wanted to say. “‘M not gonna survive another one, I’m fuckin’ stupid but I- it needs to be real, Swiss. I can’t take any more.”

“Baby… oh, sweetheart,” the multi ghoul sobbed, “I promise you, I’ve got you, ‘m not gonna let anything happen to you, you won’t be alone ever again, fuck, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Phantom didn’t have any more words, neither did Swiss. He could apologise over and over again but it made no sense. He cradled the quintessence ghoul in his arms, tears and snot soaking into each other’s clothes, held him for what seemed like hours. It probably was.

Swiss didn’t know when Phantom blacked out, he thought he did too. He remembers Rain staring down at them from the bus’ corridor with tears flowing down his own cheeks. The multi ghoul nodded at them with a pleading look, silently asking him to join. 

Rain got down on his knees and crawled over to Phantom and Swiss, helping the latter to rearrange them to somewhat of a more comfortable position. They then glued themself to Phantom’s back, squeezing the ghoul between him and Swiss.

Some time later they heard socked feet shuffling in their direction. Dewdrop.

Even before he fully laid down behind Rain, Mountain appeared in the doorway, and it didn’t take much for the three ghoulettes to make their way over to the nest too.

They should all fall onto their knees before Phantom and beg him for forgiveness, but he didn’t want that. He may be stupid for still allowing himself that tiny droplet of hope but all he wanted now was love. He wanted, needed, to be loved.

He truly wouldn’t survive more heartbreak.

***

Fans seemed to enjoy Phantom getting more lively, more confident on stage, finally allowing himself some more… intimate interactions with his bandmates. Finally being allowed touch.

But he couldn’t not feel like all the attention he was now getting was just a way for the ghouls to not feel bad about nearly letting him die. He was fine if he didn’t think about it, but at the end of the day he was just a stray animal that had stumbled into their home and they took him in out of pity, to not feel like they were awful people, to not feel guilty.

It would surely end when they got back to the Abbey, he had to soak all the comfort on the road if he wanted to have any chances at living on.

Phantom couldn’t believe it was real when they did return and he was still being seen. He was being invited for cuddles, for movie nights, game nights.

Never left behind, anymore. Never being forgotten.

Touch didn’t burn anymore, it warmed him both outside and inside in the best possible way.

He was… happier. Way happier, even though he felt like a fraud, like a mismatched puzzle piece forcefully shoved among the others. He caught himself thinking about it all ending, a lot. It was a reasonable fear with how it used to be.

Months later, years, when he’d be alone, he’d be vulnerable to the words the vile voice in the back of his head would throw at him. And he would believe them. 

He’d remember his first year on earth and realise his pack had never actually cared for him, they were still pretending, still feeling guilty about his past loneliness, the sickness they missed until it was nearly too late.

But now every time Phantom cries someone hears him. 

They don’t let him feel alone, don’t let him be cold.

“What’s on your mind, bug?” Swiss stopped his racing train of thoughts. Phantom burrowed further into his side. Rain, glued to his back, mumbled something incoherent into his neck.

“Nothing,” the quintessence ghoul sighed.

“You sure? Everything okay?” It was no wonder Swiss worried, they all did now. They were all afraid of doing something wrong, of breaking Phantom again.

“Would you mind shutting up? Tryin’ to sleep here,” Dew snarled with no real venom from Swiss’ other side.

“Let them be,” Mountain scolded him, tightening his hold on the fire ghoul.

“I’m sure,” Phantom whispered into Swiss’ chest and let his eyes slip shut again.

His pack would never forgive themselves for neglecting him like they did, they’d keep doing everything in their power to make him feel loved, cared for, cared about.

And maybe in some time Phantom would stop doubting it was real.

I feel like a Victorian child seeing a woman’s ankle for the first time.

I am physically sweating. This angle of him.

I feel like a rabid dog rn

I need requests, BAD. My writers brain is telling me to pour my heart out, but I have no prompts. NO IDEAS. Head empty, no thoughts. Dirty, fluffy, angsty- I don’t care, my noggin is thirsty and it needs to be watered with the ideas.

OH MY- UGH- I CANNOT- AHHHHHH

DUDE CHILL THE FUCK OUT

No bc how did this fandom come up with all of this 😀 more creative than I could ever be 😭

Ghost: yeah the musicians are NAMELESS ghouls with no backstory AT ALL. they are replaceable and you will not get attached.

Fandom: oh you mean Phantom, Swiss, Cirrus, Rain, Mountain, Cumulus, Aurora, Dew, Aether and Sunshine? our babygirls who were summoned from the pit? the pit that left some of them with childhood trauma? the ghouls that now live in the ministry along with the other ghouls before them who also all have names and jobs? who also all have powers correlating to their element that they also have?

I love them and I love you

Part 4 of my Impera ghoul designs: Swiss and Mountain. These two were the hardest for me to figure out but hopefully, they turned out alright Previous designs: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Headcanons under the cut:

Mountain

During the Prequelle era he had long hair and it was occasionally braided by the ghoulettes. Once Impera came, he decided to cut it so it wouldn't get in the way while he worked (Swiss held a funeral for the loss)

Flowers grow on his horns during the spring

He wears different pants to accommodate his hooves and help him move easily while drumming, it's tailored to look like the regular ghoul uniform

His biggest weakness: Freshly waxed floors

Swiss

His eyes are hidden most of the time but the Siblings are advised not to look directly at his eyes specifically

Styles his hair in multiple ways after finding a fashion magazine

Very silent when he moves, Copia got so sick of getting jumpscared by the ghoul that he placed bells by the end of his tail. Swiss thinks it's funny and uses the bells to annoy him instead by constantly jingling them

When I’m reading/writing about Phantom/Aeon, this is almost what pops up into my head^^ just a lil different

The art is stunning btw 🖤

[Carefully adds Phantoms design to collection as if I just haven’t been procrastinating to draw him, pretending the artwork haven’t been chilling in my wips for weeks]

YES.

YES, YES, YES!

New hc just dropped: Kevin summons all the ghouls

DAMN.

Kinktober - Day 19 - Hate Sex

1.4k of sort of angsty Born Under A Troubled Sign - style Mountain/Dew hate fucking. Including rough sex, improper prep, some angst, knotting, overstimulation. Could be read as dubious consent but everyone is fully aware and on board with what they're doing despite the pheromones and emotions at play.

No need to read Born Under a Troubled Sign to know what's happening. But if you haven't and you like angst you should check it out.

Dew thought this would never happen again. That Mountain would never look at him like this. That he’d never feel the calloused drag of Mountain’s hands over his ribs. That he would never feel small like this again. 

Mountain’s fingers dig in and Dew knows he should pull away. Mountain’s eyes are clouded. He’s not himself. Deep in his rut, mind fuzzy. Body driven by instinct rather than heart and Dew knows deep in his bones that if Mountain was thinking clearly he wouldn’t do this. 

And so, Dew should stop him. Should grab Mountain by the wrists before his hands slide any higher. Before rough thumbs pass over his nipples, hook into the rings there, pull until Dew gasps. 

Dew should stop him but he doesn’t. He’s hard. Mountain’s knee is pressed tight between his legs, and Dew’s rolling his hips up against Mountain’s thigh with very little thought. He hasn’t been pinned beneath this big body in months. Hasn’t smelled him like this, looked at him like this. And Dew doesn’t want to stop. 

Not when Mountain is gazing down at him with lust blown eyes. An expression Dew thought he lost to his own bad choices. His chest constricts, heart hurting in his chest, but he can’t stop. Won’t. He wants it, needs it. 

“Mount,” he whispers. Hoping that Mountain can break free of this spell himself. That Dew doesn’t have to be the one to stop it because he doesn’t trust himself. If he talks to Mountain enough. Reminds him who is pinned beneath him, maybe he’ll back off on his own. It’ll probably break Dew’s heart but that’s nothing new. 

“Mountain,” he tries again. Reaching up to cup Mountain’s face between his hands, to force the bigger ghoul to look at him–really look at him. Mountain snarls at him, teeth bared. He shakes out of Dew’s grip. 

And Dew feels the gravity of what is really happening set in. Mountain knows. Of course he does. Even fucked up on pheromones he can’t forget. He knows and he’s still thumbing over one of Dew’s nipples. Still pressing his thigh tight to Dew’s aching cock. 

Dew doesn’t know if the tightening in his chest is joy or dread. He presses a palm to the back of Mountain’s neck, holds on. Fingers stroking into the soft baby hairs there. Familiar. Like he’s finally come home. 

“It’s just this once,” Mountain grits out. Fumbling with his zipper. Reaching for Dew’s so he can pull them off of Dew’s skinny hips. It’s all moving so fast. Dew can’t quite catch up. Mind hazy from the scent of Mountain’s rut. From the way it feels to be under him again–he can’t hope to get himself on level ground. 

“Just let me,” Mountain continues. “Just once. I need it–I need–”

Dew nods. Hauling himself up to nose at Mountain’s neck. To fill himself on the scent of evergreen and juniper. He presses open mouthed kisses over Mountain’s skin, salty with sweat. 

“Just this once, Mount.” 

Dew wonders if Mountain knows it’s a lie. If they’re both just lying to themselves and each other about what this is going to do to them. It won’t make it better. He thinks they’ll probably do this again. Denial coursing through both of their bodies as they ruin each other. 

Mountain flips Dew over. Dew has no say in it. One moment he’s on his back and the next his face is in his own pillow. Mountain holds him down with a palm between his shoulderblades. He doesn’t have to. But Dew isn’t going to tell him that–he likes how it feels too much. To be held down. For Mountain to be a little rough with him, demanding. His stomach clenches, dick kicking between his legs, drooling precum onto the sheets. 

Mountain makes a gut punched sound as he spreads Dew open and finds him dripping with slick. Dew mirrors it when Mountain runs his finger through it. Smearing it over Dew’s already twitching hole. Pressing in with one finger just a little. Dew keens into the pillow. “Still so wet.” 

Dew doesn’t know how Mountain can talk like this. Fucked up as he is on his rut. Dew can’t form words. Not when Mountain is working him open. Pressing two fingers in to the third knuckle and scissoring them apart. 

“So warm,” Mountain says, reverence coloring his tone and Dew flushes, hiding his face in his pillow as he whimpers. He feels like he’s the one in heat. Rocking back against Mountain’s fingers, desperate for something else that sounds like a compliment. “Bet you’re still just as tight too.” 

Dew hiccups. Rolling his hips back as Mountain pets his fingers over Dew’s prostate. “Satanas, fuck Mountain just fuck me already. End this.” 

Before everything Mountain would have chided him for that. Even in a rut he always was level-headed enough to be gentle. But Dew doesn’t get that luxury this time. Mountain laughs at him, low and cruel and then his fingers are gone. Replaced by the blunt head of his cock. Pushing in. It’s a stretch, even with Dew’s copious slick. The burn isn’t unpleasant. It doesn’t hurt so much as it does overwhelm. Dew digs his teeth into his pillow. Ripping holes in the fabric. He’ll have to get a new one. He doesn’t care. 

Mountain’s fingers dig into his hips. He’ll have bruises. He’s glad for it. Knows he’ll replay this, dig his own fingers into those marks and cum about it later. Mountain doesn’t so much thrust as he does use Dew to fuck himself. Pushing and pulling the little ghoul. Dragging him up and down the bed as he pulls him onto his cock. Grunting and swearing as Dew bears down on him and wails each time Mountain bumps against his prostate. 

“Mount–touch me.” Dew’s lost to it, realizes it as the words tumble out of his mouth. He’s somewhere else–another time. Each rough thrust driving sense further and further away from him. 

“Touch yourself,” Mountain growls. Giving up on using Dew as a toy and snapping his hips forward. Driving Dew up the bed until his horns gouge into the headboard.

Dew hiccups on a sob and shoves his hand down between them. Getting a fist around his cock. Hot and twitching in his hand. Pre dribbling over his fingers. Each of Mountain’s thrusts fucks his dick into his own fist. He twists his hand up by the head the way Mountain always did for him. 

For a minute, Dew’s not sure he’ll cum at all, no matter how hard he is. Each of Mountain’s thrusts seeks to overwhelm, to claim. It’s too much. Dew can’t muddle through the sensations to find the right ones. But then his orgasm is roaring up on him. Unexpected. Dragging through his veins like electricity until he’s wailing with it. Shooting boiling hot over his own knuckles. Clenching down hard on Mountain, more slick drooling out of his hole as Mountain fucks him with abandon.  The edge of his knot bumping against Dew’s rim, pushing in a little further each time. Dew sags. Tears biting at the corner of his eyes. Body gone boneless as Mountain rails him. Cock twitching valiantly between his legs as Mountain abuses his prostate. It really is too much now, and Dew is about to say as much when Mountain shoves his knot in. Dew sobs with it–the sound drown out by Mountain’s growl as he cums. Holding Dew tight to him. Cock twitching and spitting deep inside of Dew’s body. 

Time suspends, stretches, as they both pant. Dew’s throat burns. Body sore and satisfied but mind racing. Fingers clenched tight in his sheets. Afraid to move, afraid to look at Mountain and see hatred on his face even after all of this. 

Mountain sits back on his haunches and pulls Dew with him. Almost sitting him on his lap except for how Dew stays hunched over. 

Mountain reaches down, he strokes some of Dew’s hair out of his face so he can see him. Tucking golden locks behind his ear with gentleness that makes Dew’s chest ache. 

“Sorry,” Mountain whispers. “I should have been–”

Dew shakes his head. “Don’t.”  Mountain goes quiet. He lets Dew slump back to the bed. He pets Dew’s spine with slow soothing strokes that make the burning in Dew’s throat worse. He’s exhausted, fucked out, hazy. He wants to reach up and pull Mountain down with him. Wants to spoon while they wait for Moutnain’s knot to go down. He doesn’t. That feels more intimate than this. It’s a thing for people who actually like each other.

Tears well in Dew’s eyes. He bites back a sob and promises himself he won’t cry until Mountain’s gone.