Ghostemane Ghost Tattoo Novels & Stories

I NEED to know who he is, and something tells me I won’t discover much if I approach him as Phantom Reaper. I don’t really even know who I actually am, to be honest. I never indulged in friendships or relationships with others. It’s just always been survival. The only person I had any kind of positive relationship was my mother. I don’t know my father but because of my hair color, I’m fairly certain my father was Christian Bartoa. I know he frequented the slave cells whenever he was bored, and the urge arises so it doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t intend to ever claim him nor carry his surname. The thought of actually SPEAKING to Damien makes me feel a weird sense of anxiety. I’m unsure if i

“You—You can’t—” Ghost moved fast, the cloth twisting around the man’s throat, not choking, just enough to remind him of the line between air and none. He leaned in close, his voice a whisper against the man’s ear. “Who sent you here?” The man tried to laugh, but it cracked into a cough. “You think—” Ghost pulled tighter, just for a heartbeat, then loosened again, letting the man drag in a desperate breath. His pale eyes never blinked. “You think I won’t take you apart piece by piece?” Ghost asked softly. “I buried men alive in Cambodia and listened while they begged me to let the dirt finish the job. Compared to that, you’re a child playing outlaw. So I’ll ask again.”

Kane leaned back in his chair, cool as ever. “You really gonna meet him? Alone?” I let out a laugh. “Fuck no. I ain’t stupid. I’m the Ghost, not some rookie patch fresh out of diapers. I’ll go, yeah. But I’ll have eyes everywhere. You, Kane, and a few of our best. You’ll be in the dark, tucked away where that bastard won’t sniff you out, and on my signal, you light him the fuck up.” Kane smirked. “Now that sounds more like you.”

"Would you spare my life if I do?" "Nope." Frank chuckled, shaking his head. "Not after the endless atrocities that The Ghosters committed. But I can make your death quick." "I…" Mr. Moore felt a chill down his spine. He certainly knew how many terrible things The Ghosters had committed in service of Ghost. Skinning and butchering another human was basically child's play! Nonetheless, Mr. Moore hung his head after clenching his jaw. "I-I'll tell you… Ghost is looking for a new body that's compatible with the power of the spiritron vein, because his has already… already…"

He asked as he breathed out his smoke. I take off my jacket and my shirt to show him my tattoo of the Criemsons. The tattoo shows a blood sword that encircles with vipers and roses that symbolizes our gang or mafia name. I swiveled to indicate my identity while his ladies gape at me like the last cupcake in a bakery they wanted to devour. "Holy mother of great mercy" He grinned. "Now can we converse interaction?" I asked before I put my clothes in and I know his kittens will groan for consuming clothes.

Everything was a mess! The man immediately turned his face at the little boy. His face darkened. "Tell me, Little Veen, how did I frighten her? I was merely showing her the memories of my real appearance but, I do not understand why she was so frightened and kept denying my existence even in her sleep." He said in dissatisfaction that reflected on his handsome face. The little boy called Veen coughed softly in a polite manner. "Your appearance now is similar to those of what humans called a ghost. You have not fully recovered your body yet, so you cannot do anything. Just let her be for now."

At first, the image was faltering, transparent, but with each minute, it grew brighter and more vibrant, and finally, a man in his fifties was looking at me, still suspended in mid-air. “Tell me your name, spirit.” “Ryner Velimo,” his voice rustled like autumn leaves. “Did you shoot at me today in the arena?” “Yes, Your Highness.” “Why?” “I was paid to do so.” “Who paid you?” The ghost froze. I had expected that to happen a bit earlier, but I still had more than enough power, and I poured it into the pentagram with full force. The lines flashed brightly, the ghost winced in pain, and, finally, started to tell the whole story.

I was so speechless, I just jumped on him and he winced, the tattoo was still hurting a bit. My fingers traced another ink one on his shoulder, he got this one after his dad died, in memory of him. "Do you always do this when I'm asleep" Bryne's husky voice jolts me back and I quickly remove my hand from his chest. He frowns and sits up, resting his back on the headboard. He yawns and stretches. I gulp, watching his thick muscle extends and flexes. "Come here" I nod and crawl to his arms obediently. He draws circles on my back and hums an inaudible tune.