#the band ghost headcanons

[ramblingoak]

Copia didn't earn the second most employee of the month awards by being pathetic.

Dorky? Yes. Pathetic? No.

[sophiasharp]

Man I don’t think we talk enough about the fact that in the wildly accepted fanon, the ghouls were like. Creatures pulled out of a primitive society full of bloodshed and danger. These guys were just chilling in hell, fighting for their lives every day like you do, and now they’re on Earth, expected to figure out Earth manners and technology and how the fuck anything works. I’ve been thinking about it, though. Let me walk you through my thoughts

THE GHOULS TRANSITIONING TO LIFE ON EARTH

Aether

- Bull in a China shop

- Big man has gotten very good at controlling his strength over the years. That control was NOT there at first.

- Bumped into fucking everything too. Dude’s used to being in the wide open abyss the quintessence ghouls occupy. Suddenly having to learn special awareness was. A hurdle of his.

- He broke a lot of tables. And chairs. And plates. Mugs. One Sibling’s arm. He got there eventually but Omega had to walk him through how fragile everything on Earth is compared to their ghoulish strength.

- Part of his habit of jumping up and down also comes from how different Earth is to his home environment. You mean you can go up and then you’ll come down again? Automatically? What a concept! Gravity is so much fun!

- Still gets some sense of novelty out of electric lighting. Being able to just. Make the dark go away? Whenever? Amazing.

- He keeps a night light on in his room. The last person to make fun of him for it mysteriously ended up with 3rd degree burns.

Dewdrop:

- Skittish little fucker

- Kinda like that one video of those weird crabs reacting to the diver

- Dew, poking at a toaster: Friend? Friend? Friend? Big noise! Scared! Scared! Scared! Scared! … Friend? Friend?

- Fucking LOVED blankets and coats and jackets and robes and honestly just anything that will keep him warm. He was used to the cold, sure, but if he had a choice between that and being cuddled under 5 different comforters, possibly with another ghoul for extra body heat? It wasn’t even a competition.

- Still had to often be reminded to wear clothes. “We’re in a hellish commune, does anyone really care about one ghoul being naked?” “It’s not so much the nakedness as much as the being out and about without your uniform.”

- Warm food blew his Fucking mind. Coming from the frigid arctic, whatever warmth you’d get from your food’s internal temperature was short lived. Microwaves? Ovens? Tea Kettles? Marvelous. Truly a gift from the Dark One

- Got REALLY into cooking. Dude is a wizard in the kitchen. Watched so many kitchen shows once he figured out how TV’s worked and started replicating the really fancy meals they were creating on screen with whatever he could find around the Abbey and what the kitchen staff were willing to give him. Now, whenever there’s a big occasion, he’s the one asked to oversee the food.

Mountain:

- weirdly calm and placid about everything despite not knowing how literally anything worked.

- Just casually curious about everything. Was always asking questions. Not in an annoying way, but just politely inquisitive.

- There was like a 50/50 chance he was actually listening to you at any given point in time. I mean, there are so many new sights, sounds, smells to experience! Can’t expect him to be 100% there when there’s still so much new splendor all around!

- If ever he was confronted with something new but no one was around to explain what it was, he would instead try to just. Figure it out on his own using his best judgement.

- This is how he once ended up straight up eating someone’s phone. This was very early on, mind you, but it was so smooth and shiny! And the precious metals inside were so tasty! He knows better now, of course. But there are some days where he’s tempted to give his ministry-issued smartphone a nibble…

- Figured out his love of gardening pretty damn fast considering that’s what he was originally summoned for. However, aside from tending to Primo’s garden, he found himself still going out to tend to the plants even in his free time. It’s calming to him, reminds him of home. When things get overwhelming, the plants are there to let him channel his worry into something producing.

- His first personal plant was a small pot of rosemary. He kept it in the window of his room and took *such* good care of it. It’s still there to this day, nestled among the other plants he’s accumulated of the years.

Swiss

- he is so excited about everything!!!!

- He has to be touching all the new things all the time! What does it do? How is it made?? Can he eat it??? A lot of things that were small enough went straight into his mouth. Copia needed to keep a spray bottle on him at all times to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

- Of course, when he was around the other ghouls, he played it cool. Have to make a good impression on his new (and hopefully permanent) packmates after all. He reeeaaaally didn’t want get sent back to the pit so getting in good with the rest of the band was TOP priority!

- In fact that need to be liked was bordering on unhealthy and sort of sabotaged himself a bit. Acting all suave and cocksure when the entire rest of the band was on high alert does that.

- Most of the ghouls regarded him with a hefty amount of distrust at first- being the first summon of the new boss came with a LOT of baggage -but Cumulus saw straight through him. He was just a silly little guy! She became his first real friend amongst the pack.

- The two became menaces together, exploring the abbey and messing with shit they probably shouldn’t have. Primo’s garden was a favorite of theirs, much to Mountain’s chagrin.

- Was just SOOOO fascinated by this new body he’s been put in. Unlike most the other ghouls, he didn’t have a physical body he inhabited back in hell, only being given one when he was summoned to the surface. Flesh! If feels funny! What does this thing down here do-

Cumulus:

- was honestly kinda scared at first, what with the whole mood of the pack being out of wack.

- Apparently their new boss might have killed someone? That’s the guy that summoned them? Uh oh!

- Stayed glued to Cirrus in the beginning. Being summoned together meant having a strong built-in bond with each other, always having access to what the other is feeling. Being together offered a much-needed sense of comfort to Cumulus. Getting to spend time with a really pretty girl wasn’t bad either.

- Swiss was the one to bring her out of her shell, imbuing her with confidence through his own fake bravado. They came to rely on each other in that sense. When Cumulus was scared to do the things she wanted, Swiss would convince her of her capability. When Swiss was anxious and felt like a fraud, Cumulus would remind him of his sincerity.

- Was very curious about how her magic worked on the surface versus how it did in the pit. Back home, she was used to having to beat against the constant winds of the first layer of hell. Now that she’s on Earth, her powers are much more powerful than she ever expected them to be!

- LOVED textiles. She surrounded herself in all things soft and fluffy. Her bedroom (and most nights Cirrus’s as well) is just so Fucking cozy. Blankets and pillows everywhere. Her stuffed animal collection is unmatched. Will cry if even one of them ends up on the floor.

- Dew was the one to help her start her collection. To this day they are each other’s #1 cuddle buddies.

Cirrus:

- Stone cold badass front to hide how nervous she was.

- VERY protective of Cumulus in the beginning. She could feel how scared she was and felt the need to step up and protect the both of them from any threat this new environment may have… even if the perceived threat is a bit stupid.

- She once kicked in the washing machine cause it made a sound once it was done and it startled her. Not her proudest moment.

- Was almost OVERPROTECTIVE of Cumulus at first, even, doing even the simplest of tasks for her to prevent risk of injury. That was until she watched her kick a sibling straight in the nuts for making snide remarks about Cirrus in front of her. Cirrus had never fallen in love faster.

- Took a LONG while to warm up to the others. Constantly felt like she had something to prove, like she needed to show that she wouldn’t buckle under pressure. Everyone (but Cumulus) was a threat.

- Adores weather on Earth and how it isn’t just WIND 24/7. She loves all the different shapes of the clouds, how dark they get with moisture, the gentle snowfall or the needle-like rain. Really puts her at peace to be out on a rainy day

Rain:

- S C A R E D

- Everything is new and bright and cold and heavy and loud and- and- and-

- Yeah he barely left his room for a week, didn’t talk to anyone for anything. Not shy, necessarily, but just freaked the fuck OUT. They were starting to think he was nonverbal cause man refused to use his voice. In his defense, talking outside the water feels very different when you’re used to your vocal cords wiggling in water all your life.

- In my brain the first time he did speak was to Copia after he did his lil oopsie with the rest of the pack. It’s like a day later and Copia’s tryna plan how he’s gonna make it up to the ghouls when rain cornered him in a dark hallway, made direct eye contact, and in the softest voice went “I wouldn’t go near the lake if I were you. It’s hard to hear screaming underwater.” He then left a completely stunned and freaked tf out Copia standing alone in the hall like it never happened.

- He kinda regrets letting his first words on Earth be a threat now but the rest of the pack is flattered, although they do still sometimes tease him for it.

- Really started coming out of his shell when Dew made dinner for him. Dew was in the same shoes as him once and, although his relationship with the new water ghoul was complicated, he still felt obligated to help his new packmate adjust to life on Earth.

- Bro went through the trouble of showing Rain what every little thing in the kitchen did so he wouldn’t be scared to make his own food anymore, all while making him some grade A gourmet dining. Dew didn’t know it at the time but that’s when the heart-eyes started.

[miasmaghoul]

who do u think is the best and worst at riding dick amongst the ghouls

what a STUPENDOUS question!

best to worst below the cut!

Rain - undisputed king of dick riding, whether it be real or silicone. knows exactly how every other ghoul likes it, when to clench and grind and roll his hips just right. he also has crazy high stamina and can ride for a g e s if he feel like it. it's his favorite way to top from the bottom too Aurora - it's her favorite position, and she's damn good at it. not that she minds getting thrown around or pinned to a mattress, but something about being able to bounce with her hands planted on their chest - or thighs, if she's going reverse cowgirl style - drives her wild. as such, she's gotten VERY good at it.

Aeon - one word: flexibility. this boy can be bent and folded into all sorts of novel positions, ones that make even Rain raise a brow, but he'll ride his partner like a pony if they ask for it. he enjoys it too, don't misunderstand, but he likes to be able to keep a greedy hand on himself and that can be difficult when trying to stay balanced.

Dew - small, bendy and energetic, he likes a good ride. preferably with he's bouncing on a ghoul much larger than him. it's not his favorite solely because, unlike Aurora, he actually prefers being overpowered. especially at the end - he has a hard time finishing when he's riding, the effort tires him out, so he'll do it until he can't anymore and then demand to be railed until he can't breathe.

Sunshine - also very energetic, she will ride without argument. however, she has some issues with coordination. finds it difficult to time her bounces with their thrusts, can't focus on touching herself if she's also trying to keep rhythm. no one complains, but they know there are positions that suit her much better.

Cumulus - will ride on request, but it's far from her favorite. it feels amazing, to be sure, but it makes her knees ache and after a few minutes she's usually worn out. she'll take a reclined position any day, preferring to do less of the work but reap all the benefits. the exceptions to the riding thing are Dew and Sunshine, whose warm hands help relieve the soreness in her legs so they can enjoy the feel of her above them a little longer.

Swiss - "bad" isn't how you could describe Swiss' riding style, but most of the others don't have the patience for it. if Swiss wants to ride, it's a commitment - he wants it slow and without prep, wants to sink onto a cock and feel the burning stretch of with minimal lube. it's a specific thing for him, something he really only indulges in with Aether and Cirrus. they give him all the time in the world.

Aether - riding makes him feel weirdly shy, so more often than not he suggests alternatives when asked. Dew, though, gets ridden like a pony whenever he requests it. Aether can tolerate the tightness in his chest much more easily when Dew looks up at him all slack-jawed and stupid while Aether's cock slaps against his belly. sometimes, though, if he needs to feel small, Aether will dress up pretty and ride Mountain until he has tears in his eyes.

Mountain - it's not that he's BAD, per se, but he's got those long, long legs and scrunching them up enough to ride leaves him too sore to make it worthwhile. in all honesty he doesn't bottom often, so if he's in a riding position he's more likely to have his hips held tight and his hold used by whoever has the privilege of being inside.

Cirrus - she's the closest to a stone top amongst my ghouls, so her being at the bottom of the list is mostly perfunctory. could she ride someone til they popped like warm champagne? absolutely. but she would MUCH rather be the one making them bounce on the biggest strap they can handle. if she chooses to ride, though, it's going to be on her terms and probably framed as some hardcore objectification.

[angellayercake]

When you think about it the Ministry would be such a body positive environment. Because no matter how your body is deemed wrong by the world at large it typically is categorised into one of the seven deadly sins. So there at least it would be celebrated.

[leezlelatch]

[MESSAGE FROM THE CLERGY]

We wish to inform you that the new Sibling of Sin Welcome Packets are here!

Take your first step into the Ministry by using the enclosed character sheets to introduce us to your OC or self-insert! It is not limited to Siblings; Ghouls, Papa OCs, etc. are more than welcome. You will notice that there is a polaroid attached - artists, please feel free to draw your character! For non-artists, there is a version without the polaroid. Picrews or other character creators are encouraged! Make it your own!

You will also find a Schedule of Events and Ministry Etiquette to follow during your stay.

This is all fun and fan-made, and I hope you all enjoy using it for roleplays, stories, or to just show us how cool you are!

Enjoy!

[scaredycatghoulette]

Thinking about Rain in one of those shark blanket onesies.

Dew definitely got it for him and he practically lives in it when they aren't on the stage, he takes it everywhere with him and the moment he's on the bus or in a hotel he's snuggled up in the shark blanket.

Aether once had to wash it for him, and Rain cried so hard he almost threw up. Once he got it back, he wouldn't let Aether go near it for weeks.

Dew does not regret buying it for him. He calls it the best investment he's ever made, knowing how happy it makes Rain.

[writingjourney]

I'm so obsessed with Secondo using my dove as a pet name for his love because to him it represent a sort of innocent optimism, a sign of positive change in his life, reprieve from the banality and the aversion he holds for his duties in the senior clergy, freedom and relief from his own trauma and deep-rooted pain as well as a calmer state of mind and making peace with his past to move into a happier future. The first time he uses it it just feels right. And he is a romantic, he wants you to feel the implications of his use of the name, enunciating it in a way that makes the word heavy with how much emotion it carries. This man has more devotion in his little finger than others carry in their whole body. There is no way you won't feel utterly loved by him at all times.

Am I over-analyzing my own HCs? Maybe.

[dewedup]

dew has sticky fingers, whenever they are in a store they just grab anything, whatever catches their eye really, and will shove it in their pocket in a very casual manner

rain lives in constant fear of dew getting caught, so he follows them around like a shadow, plucking the nail polish/can opener/lighters/lipstick/candy from their leather jacket and putting it back on the shelf while looking way more shifty than dew ever has

[ghouletteanon]

So the ghouls used to wear religiously coded clothes but don't anymore and it's giving me Thoughts.

The ghouls went from monk robes (Primo & Secondo) to cassocks (Terzo), from a status of a friar to the status of a priest.

What if the old band ghouls still have a priest status, whereas Copia's summons don't have any status within the church itself except for being band ghouls.

All this rambling just because I want Mist and Zephyr to have priestly duties and dragging Mountain, Dew, and Aether to priest meetings because they technically still have priest status even if they are avoiding their duties because of band stuff.

I just want Mist to officiate a ghoul wedding, ok?

[ramblingoak]

Hello! I apologize if you don’t take requests btw but if you do , do you think you can write head cannons of what the papas would do for their s/o with Covid when you can? <3(I totally didn’t js find out that I had Covid 😀) again super sorry if u don’t take requests!🖤

Hey! I hope you are feeling much much better. Apologies this took a bit to finish. I ended up getting Covid last week myself so clearly karma got me for taking too long xD. This did end up being more for readers that are just kind of sick in general but I hope you still enjoy the little drabble I did for each Papa 💙

Warnings: short and sweet, pretty fluffy and fairly silly, there are some suggestive comments but these are mostly sfw, readers are all gender neutral, not beta read so pls ignore any mistakes

Mayo Rub ~ Primo x GN!Reader

“Are you going to be grumpy about this the whole time I’m sick?”  Primo scoffed and continued to aggressively turn the pages in his gardening magazine.  “Well?”

“You are mistaken, I’m not grumpy about anything.”

“Then why are you pouting over pictures of tulips?”

“They’re not tuli–”  Primo stopped abruptly, roughly closing his magazine and getting up from the couch.  When he glanced over your way you raised an eyebrow at him.  “They’re lilies.”

“Fine, lilies.”  You took a moment to cough into your elbow, knowing that he was now frowning because it had been getting progressively worse as the day had worn on.  “But you admit that you’re pouting.”

“Why must you be so difficult?”  When you couldn’t answer right away due to another coughing fit he wandered over to the bed, wringing his hands with worry.  “Fogliolina, I’m only trying to help.”

He was ready with your bottle of water when you were able to look up, meeting his concerned gaze sheepishly.  With a shrug you took the bottle from him, taking a deep drink to try and soothe your throat before attempting to answer.

“The store bought stuff is working fine.”  You ignored his muttered ‘clearly’ and pressed on,  “Look I just don’t buy into the…you know.”  Primo raised his eyebrow as you wiggled the fingers of one hand in his direction.  “Plant magic.”

“It’s not magic, my little leaf.”  The unspoken ‘idiota’ hung between you but you decided to be gracious and ignore it.  “They are natural remedies that have been used for hundreds, no, thousands of years!”

“Fine.  If I let you work some of your plant magic will you stop pouting?”

“It’s not–”  He took a deep breath, blowing it slowly out through his nose before continuing.  “SÍ, I will stop pouting.”

“Alright then, have at it.”  Primo gave you a pleased smile before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead.  He was frowning when he pulled away, bringing his hand up to press against the warm skin his lips just touched.  When he muttered something under his breath in Italian and turned away you grabbed at the sleeve of his sweater and tugged him back.  “Fogliolina?”

“Just promise not to rub mayonnaise or whatever on my chest.”

“Che cazzo?  Why wou–nevermind.”  

You had to bite your lip to stop from laughing at the impressively annoyed look on his face.  He took a deep breath before shooting you a look that usually either predicated a lecture or him demanding you remove your clothes.  Unfortunately you knew that right now it meant the former.  You decided to go easy on the man that was about to work his…whatever on you.

“I love you Primo.”

“As you should.”  The both of you shared a smile before he clapped his hands together and turned back to head out the bedroom door.  “Sit tight fogliolina, I’ll be back with the mayonnaise in just a few moments.”

Your laughter quickly brought on another coughing fit but you waved him away when he looked back at you.  

“Go!  Get your potions old man, I’ll still be here.”

“I’m going to make sure of it, my little leaf, don’t you worry.”

Secret Ingredient ~ Secondo x GN!Reader

“Is it salt?”

You hid your face in the neck of the sweater you had borrowed.  The fabric was soft and warm, with the bonus of smelling like the man it belonged to.  Secondo let out an aggrieved sigh from where he was standing over the stove before turning around with an eyebrow raised.

“Salt?  Really?” 

“Fancy salt?”

“SÌ, the secret ingredient of the chicken noodle soup recipe passed down through my mother’s family for generations is fancy salt.”  He gave you a little smile when he caught you pouting.  “Would you like a taste, dolcezza?”

“Yes, please.” 

Secondo got a spoonful and blew on it as he walked over to the kitchen table.  He held it to your lips with great care, watching the expression on your face change as you tasted it.  When you gave him a pleased smile he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You feel a little warm again, would you like to lay down?”

“No, no I’m fine.  I want to stay out here with you.”  That earned you another kiss before he turned and went back to the stove.  You licked the taste of the soup off your lips before taking another guess.  “Rosemary?”

“That’s not much of a secret, dolcezza.”

“Parsley?”

“Parsley is a necessity, certainly not l’ingrediente segreto.”  

“Ok fine, how about Primo’s parsley?”

Secondo chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled two bowls from a cupboard and started to fill them with the soup he’d labored over almost all afternoon.  You had been stuck between desperately wanting him close because you felt bad but also not wanting him to get sick.  When you’d tried to explain this he had gone on about some nonsense of the Emeritus line having strong constitutions and rarely becoming ill.  Whatever.  You’d remember his speech the next time he was whining over a cold.

“All of the ingredients are from Primo’s gardens, as you know.”  

He set your bowl down in front of you before taking a seat himself.  You let yourself get distracted for a bit looking at his exposed forearms.  It was one of the reasons you enjoyed watching him cook.  He’d roll up his sleeves and you’d get to daydream about his arms while he worked.  Your eyes finally looked up from staring at the dark hair covering his skin to find him smirking at you.  

“Get over yourself.”  He knocked his foot against yours under the table and you flashed him a smile before bringing a spoonful to your lips.  Like most everything he made it tasted amazing.  You let out a delighted little hum before taking another guess.  “Basil?”

“Again, not a secret.”

You frowned down at your bowl as you tried to think of what was so damn secret about his soup.  He had even refused to tell Copia earlier when he’d come by asking for the recipe.  It had to be something extremely uncommon for him to be so weird about it.  But he always got a little weird when he was making you something special, especially if it was an old recipe of his mother’s.  Secondo always took such great care when he recreated them, like he was pouring his love for his mother into them as he worked…oh.  You reached across the table and laid a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently when he looked at you.

“I love you too, Secondo.”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”  When he didn’t elaborate you pulled your hand away and crossed your arms over your chest.  “The secret ingredient.  It’s love.”

“Love isn’t an ingredient.”

“Yes it is.”

“No dolcezza, it isn’t.”

“I bet your mother would agree with me.”

Secondo snorted, rolling his eyes as he moved his chair closer to yours.  It was close enough he could wrap an arm around your shoulders and tuck you close to his side.  After placing a few kisses into your hair he pulled away and cupped your cheek.

“I have no doubt that if my mother was still here you and her would run circles around me.”

“Just admit it.  I promise I won’t tell anyone.”  When he didn’t say anything you grinned, his silence was all the confirmation you needed.  “It’s love.”

“It’s paprika.”

Satan Magic ~ Terzo x GN!Reader

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Terzo groaned, muttering under his breath as he pulled you closer to his chest.

“This is my church I can be wherever I want.”

“Oh your church, huh?”  You dug an elbow into his gut, grinning when he swore in Italian.  “Besides, you know what I mean.”

“SÌ, sÌ.  I know.”  He shoved a leg in between yours and rubbed his cold foot along your skin, holding you tighter when you tried to wiggle away.  “Ai!  Quit it, I'm trying to help.”

“How are your freakishly cold feet supposed to help me?”

“You have to warm them up first.”

“Satan’s dick, Terzo.”  A fit of coughing came over you then and you tried to ignore how nice it was to have Terzo’s hand rubbing your back as your body shook.  It took you a moment to catch your breath and you sniffled as you shamelessly pressed back against his warm chest.  “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“How many times must I say this?  I don’t get sick.”  

“I seem to remember a few days last year that you were definitely sick and whining in this bed just like me.”

“Those were allergies and completely different.”

“Whatever you say Papa.”

His chest vibrated against your back when he groaned.

“Don’t talk like that right now, it’s not fair.”  You giggled as you pushed back against him, trying to get as close as possible.  He was so warm, it was exactly what you needed right now.  Terzo tightened his arms around your waist for a moment before pressing his lips against your ear.  “Would you like to hear a secret?”

“Always.”  

“It’s because I’m a Papa that I don’t get sick.”

You frowned, turning your head to the side to look at him as best you could.

“What?”

“My family line has been blessed by Lucifer himself.  It is not often that an Emeritus falls ill.”

“But he’ll let you suffer through allerg–hey!”  

He got another elbow in the gut after he pinched your hip and you both wrestled a bit under the blankets.  Terzo managed to turn you so that your chests were pressed together and you took advantage of the new position to tuck your face into his neck.  Your nose was severely stuffed up but you could still smell his cologne and it was so good you let your body go limp in his arms.

“Don’t worry about me, eh?  I want to be close to you, to take care of you.”

“Alright, fine.  I just hope your Satan magic protects you from this.”

Terzo snorted and started to card his fingers through your hair.  It didn’t take long before the soothing movement helped you begin to drift off.  You felt his lips against your temple and you smiled, opening your eyes to meet his gaze.

It was unfortunate that it was the exact moment he sneezed into your face.

Stolen Soup ~ Copia x GN!Reader

Copia always got a little anxious when you were sick. 

It was part hating that you felt bad at all and also part him not wanting to catch what you had.  He hated getting sick and was always the worst patient.  In contrast you generally preferred to be left alone.  All you wanted to do was sleep and unfortunately you just found yourself getting irritated when Copia kept bugging you. 

“Copia I’m fine!  I just want to sleep.”  Oh here we go, the pout.  You groaned, rolling your eyes as you fell back onto the pillows.  “You’ve got better things to do anyway.”

“The only thing I need to do right now is take care of you.”  He had that stubborn look on his face, the one he gave Imperator when it was time to ask for a bigger costume budget.  “Amore, please?  Let me make sure you’re going to be alright.  Would you do this for your Papa?”

You could never win in a battle against that dopey look on his face so you just huffed and nodded your head.  His dazzling smile would be worth listening to him gloat later when he claimed it was only through his care you survived at all.  Copia began to hum to himself as he grabbed the big tote bag he came in with, quickly pulling things out and setting them at the foot of the bed. 

“What’s all this?”

“Ah, well I stopped by Primo’s for some salve to rub on your chest,”  You snorted when he wiggled his eyebrows at you.  “He also gave me some tea that will help your throat.  Secondo had some of his homemade soup in his fridge so I brought that as well.”

“Does Secondo know you took his soup?”  

“I left a note, he’ll get over it.”  

There was definitely no way Secondo would get over it but you decided to let it go.  When Copia started pulling some books out you sat up again and reached out for one. 

“I don’t think I have the energy to read right now.”  You ran your fingers over the worn cover of the book, flipping it open and seeing a short passage written in Italian on the first page.  “What does this say?”

“It’s a note to Terzo.”  Copia walked around the bed and gently took the book from you.  “From his mother.”

“Oh, Copia, maybe you should take it back.  I don't want anything to happen to it.”

“No no, this is what the book is for.  Sick days.”  He gave you a warm smile, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.  He was frowning when he pulled away, muttering something about taking your temperature.  “Terzo’s mother read this to him when he was a child and then Terzo used to read this to me.”

“So now it’s my turn?”

He looked over at you with a fond smile, his hands full of remedies and stolen soup. 

“Si amore, now it’s your turn.”

My Masterlist

My Archive of Our Own

Thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers and @foxybouquet with the Italian help 💙

[v-ternus]

GHOULS AND THEIR FAVORITE FOODS

Started thinking of the ghouls a little too much while I was hungry, so Im now here to present this dumpster fire.

Aether: frozen yogurt

He loves when it’s warmer out, it means the cold treat is even better than usual (yes he's the type to eat cold stuff when its cold out). He loves the tart, plain flavor and puts cookie dough bites and butterfinger pieces on it.

Dew: ravioli

Any filling, any sauce. Lil guy will put these away like they’re air. The store bought, premade ones are good, but he loves the ones Mountain makes— mushroom and cheese filled in a brown butter sauce.

Aeon: rice crackers

He likes to think that this is what it must feel like to chew on styrofoam. Sure they taste good, but he mostly eats them for the crunches. He lowkey hates the ones wrapped in seaweed.

Aurora: indian food

She is an absolute fiend for samosas. She could make a meal out of it if only she didnt want to eat everything else on the menu. She loves literally everything, but her favorite is chicken madras. She’s busy eating her way through the menu at the restaurant in town. She goes with Copia every Friday for lunch, its their “thing”.

Mountain: barbecue

He’s in heaven whenever they tour through some of the southern states. Loves brisket. Loves cornbread even more.

(he also just loves meat in his mouth)

Rain: cheap pizza

He loves all chain pizzas, but his favorite is Little Caesars. A crappy and slightly-overcooked-from-sitting-under-the-warmer pizza will cheer him up on even the worst days. Also hates olives. Like he really, really hates them. Dew messed up the first time he ordered and got a supreme pizza with olives and Rain straight up cried.

Sunshine: pierogies

She'll eat any pierogi, as long as you give her sour cream on the side. Sometimes she likes them crisped up in butter, but that's a big sometimes. Sunshine has still not found a filling she dislikes.

Swiss: fancy(ish) pizzas

I cant really blame the guy for liking the woodfired stuff. Favorite toppings include but are not limited to: roasted garlic, roasted peppers, prosciutto, and arugula. Him and Rain are opposites when it comes down to this.

Cumulus: pad thai

Americanized or traditional, she will devour it. Though she regularly eats meat, she only gets tofu as the protein option for her pad thai. Unlike the others who seem to have had the best luck, she has found one that she absolutely hated. It was from an Asian fusion chain restaurant. She would've sent it back if she wasn't so scared of being perceived as rude.

Cirrus: crab rangoon

She hates when there's actual crab in her crab rangoons. She just wants that sweet cream cheese. It is the only thing she asks for when they pick cheap Chinese food for dinner.

[miasmaghoul]

May I offer a headcnon?

Blind Zephyr

Thoughts, both solo and with Mountain below. Nothing explicit, but implied horny things in the distance.

Not completely blind, but their vessel has some unfixable eye impairment that limits sight and progressively worsens. That's why they were a band ghoul for such a brief period, their eyesight tanked after the tour ended. Eventually they end up functionally blind, just able to make out shapes and colors but nothing close to detail.

They adapt fairly well, but they do end up relying on the others a bit more at first. Especially Mountain, who's easiest to pick out in a crowd. Zephyr isn't a huge fan of siblings, and they've made the mistake of assuming a sister is Dew three times too many, so it's easier to look for the blob of beige that they know to be Mountain’s antlers.

Mountain doesn't mind.

He doesn't baby Zephyr the way Aether sometimes does, and he doesn't use kid gloves the way Dew and Ifrit tend to. Mountain is easy, honest. Helpful without being overbearing, doesn't presume to do things that Zephyr certainly can on their own. He waits for them to ask, and Zephyr is always silently appreciative.

They wish they could see more of his handsome face, though. Wish they could count the freckles speckled over his nose and cheeks for the hundredth time, that they could admire the squared off edges of his pupils and that one auburn streak in his hair.

But their memory will have to suffice - though Mountain never objects to letting Zephyr touch his face when they need a reminder. To bring the ridge of his brow and the hump on his nose back into sharper relief in their head.

Touching that, of course, never stops at Mountain's face.

Zephyr insists on facing him whenever they fall into bed, regardless of who's doing what. Mountain assured them that he will always look into their eyes, even if they cant see him, and Zephyr believes him.

After, Mountain will read to them. That's the one thing Zephyr misses more than any other, even more than their keys - being able to squirrel themself away into a nook in the library with a thermos of tea and a good book. But Mountain's voice is lovely, and the way his chest vibrates under Zephyr's ear is so soothing. Like this, they can forget their loss for a minute.

Mountain traces shapes into their skin while he reads, and Zephyr memorizes every one - hearts and stars and Z's and M's and nonsensical squiggles. Sometimes Zephyr will ask how a character's name is spelled, and Mountain will write it on their back while he spells it out loud.

Zephyr always drifts off faster than they intend to, but it's unavoidable. Mountain will finish out his chapter and they'll settle down, face to face, with Zephyr's hand over Mountain's heart. Just a reminder. Zephyr knows they don't have to, but they always thank Mountain for everything. He'll shush them, always, kiss their cheek, and for a second Zephyr will SWEAR they can see him.

They sleep the best those nights.

[leezlelatch]

Terzo x GN! Reader

A very kind person pointed out that I had a gendered term in here and I apologize if it took anyone out of the story. It has been fixed!

~6,200 words, contains diner shenanigans, dancing, and sad to happy Terzo. You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

The neon diner sign of rocket red and electric blue illuminates the small parking lot and the few cars strung about haphazardly in their spots. Next to the dumpster in the back, a young couple attempts to get a few heated touches in before the back door swings open, sending them running while the whistling cook pours a bucket of grease into the grassy patch nearby. The few patrons inside sit on different ends of a diner that hasn’t changed a wink since it was erected, although the same couldn’t be said for the diehards who have been coming since their kids were kids or since they were kids. The lone waitress on duty pours another cup of coffee for an overworked cop, while a businessman in a booth runs a hand through his well-oiled hair, his eyes vacant while he comes up with another excuse for his wife as to why the paycheck is short again this week. 

You make eye contact with a young boy sitting at a table with his sister and parents. He smiles at you, and your lips curve in a genuine one yourself. There’s a diversity here. That’s the reason you keep coming back, although the cheeseburgers certainly make their own argument. You make a silly face at the boy and wink, his smile broadening as he giggles before turning back to the chicken nuggets his mother is trying very hard to get him to eat. You take a breath and rub your fingers against your palms before turning back to your laptop, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you regard the blank document. 

Writing is so damn difficult, and honestly, you wonder how James Patterson gets away with publishing a hundred books a year. At this point, we all know it isn’t him writing. No, the real writers are out here, plugging away in old diners and trying not to go insane. At this point, you don’t even know where the plot is going, and you regret not making an outline. But you need ideas for outlines and you’re fresh out of them. 

“I should just go back to writing fanfiction,” you mumble, resting your chin on your hand while sighing in frustration. 

The dainty ring of the old bell above the door draws your attention to the front, and you watch with interest as the newest addition to this motley crew enters. You’ve never seen him before. In the weeks that you’ve made this place your writing home, you’ve gotten to know most of its patrons. They’re typical small town people with problems, just like you have problems, but they’re the type of people who always have a good morning on the tip of their tongue and call you honey. But this guy. Boy, did he break the mold. 

He’s older, maybe above 50, close to 60. The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead are cut deep, and it draws your writer’s curiosity to wonder if they’re from laughter or pain. His face is set in a neutral expression as his eyes scan the diner, and you feel yourself inching forward in your seat, squinting a little. 

Am I seeing right? you think, watching as the man moves toward the counter. His left eye looks strange, milky from where you’re sitting, and you immediately conclude that he must be blind in one eye. 

You quickly look away and down at your table, your eyes a little wide. Judging much? you scold yourself. Jesus, get a grip. You’re not that damn bored. 

Despite your internal reproach, your eyes flicker back up to watch the man as he takes off his jacket and lays it over one arm, politely waiting for the waitress to turn around as she refills the coffee pot. He’s wearing a dark purple button-up, sleeves rolled up to expose dainty wrists and forearms covered in dark hair. He’s that dark and debonair type, his hair that kind of black that’s almost unnatural, probably dyed. His bangs fall into his face, a long-fingered hand coming up to brush it away from his eyes. Your eyebrows raise as the errant lock of hair settles in a perfect wave with its brethren, unmoving. So the handsome older stranger has perfect hair, entirely unsurprising and very much appreciated. 

You quickly glance down at your laptop when his eyes sweep across the room, likely looking for a place to sit, and you’re faced with your blinking cursor once more. Ignore the most interesting person you’ve seen walk in here in weeks, and write your damn story. 

“Hello, how are you doing?” His accented voice floats across the diner. 

Fuck it. 

You watch him greet the waitress with a smile, his arm not holding the jacket coming up to rest on the counter as he casually leans, crossing one foot over the other. Penny, the poor woman caught in the clutches of that peculiar stare, flounders like a fish for several seconds before asking what she could get him. You try to peg his accent as he asks for black coffee with a squeeze of lemon, but all you can think about is how lovely the words sound coming out of those full lips. At this point, you begin to wonder if you’re in heat. 

“You sure you don’t want cream, honey?” Penny asks him, pouring his coffee in one of those chipped porcelain mugs. 

“No, thank you. I am lactose intolerant,” the man chuckles lightly and presses a hand to his stomach. “It will come back like a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Penny frowns. 

“Eh, to haunt me. Stomach troubles. This is what I get for trying English phrases, no?” 

“Oh. Right,” Penny laughs a little uncomfortably and slides his coffee across the counter. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.” 

The man slides a twenty across the counter and smiles pleasantly at her with a quiet, lilted, “Keep the change, per favore.” 

He turns and makes his way to a table about two away from yours, and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small notebook, moleskin, and leaves the jacket draped over the empty chair beside him before taking a seat. Your eyes peer over the top of your laptop, watching as he warms his hands on his cup for a moment, just staring into the mug with an unreadable expression. There is something sad about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on. Honestly, you shouldn’t be trying. It’s rude. You’re rude. And the poor man probably just wants to enjoy a cup of joe before going home for the night. 

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die. 

You start to type on your keyboard, nonsensical stuff to make it look like you’re working and not obsessing, but all you can manage to write is, “I am as thirsty for this old man as he is for his cup of coffee.” Oh my god, delete that now. What is wrong with you?

I’m never leaving my apartment again, you think. I’m not doing it. He’s been in here for 10 minutes and I am acting like a looney toon. 

Taking a deep cleansing breath, you take a big bite of your nearly cold cheeseburger like a feral animal before cracking your knuckles, determined to get back to your story. You begin to write a descriptive opening for the scene, and as the story progresses, seemingly slipping from your brain to your fingers to the document on the screen, you decide that it’s going to be a romance. Perhaps entirely inspired by the man a few tables away from you, but hey! That’s the reason you come here. It’s paying off. 

Your eyes unwittingly fall on the man once more, and he’s hunched over the little notebook, a pencil in his hand as he writes. His lips move, silently reading along with each stroke of his pencil, and he more than once has to brush that bang away from his forehead, causing a smile to light your face. Not so perfect hair after all. Ah well, who are you kidding? Even the messy bang is its own perfection. 

His fingers rise to his face and he pauses for a moment as if he’s remembering something before shaking his head a little with a barely perceptible smile and scratching his nose. He heaves a sigh and looks about the diner again, his eyes falling on the sign that claims the diner sells Pepsi fresh. You watch his eyebrows turn in, deepening the wrinkles which pucker above the bridge of his nose, giving him an angry look which coupled with his white eye could make anyone shiver in intimidation. 

The family sitting nearby finish their meal and stand up, the kids talking exuberantly as they put their jackets on. The little boy runs ahead of his parents and nearly trips, the man on instinct half-standing, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he makes a small lunge toward the boy in order to prevent his falling. The kid rights himself without help, and looks at the stranger with a nervous, wide-eyed stare. 

“It is alright, little one. I fall very often,” the man says with a soft smile, making a show of nearly tripping and falling back into his seat with an “oof!” The little boy starts to giggle, and you feel your own cheeks heat as you watch them interact. It’s so incredibly sweet, and the way the man’s eyes shine as he nods the family out the door makes you wonder if he has his own children at home. Likely grown. But the lack of a ring on his finger says otherwise, although…that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

Your stranger turns back to his notebook and picks up his pencil, taking another sip of his coffee with his free hand. When he presses the lead to the page, it snaps. He stares down at the broken piece for several seconds before his hand curls into a fist, and it looks as if he may throw the pencil across the room in the very same way you considered throwing your laptop. His expression changes, no longer soft and sweet as it was with the boy, or politely curious. It crumbles as if he was just given bad news, his mouth cutting a severe line. That bang falls into his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it away, letting it hang limp in front of his eyes that are hollow, vacant. 

And then he looks up. And it’s gone. He looks only minorly inconvenienced, his gaze once more falling on you. He leans across the table slightly, an arm reaching across the expanse as he attempts to catch your eyes which are hyper focused on your laptop. You are the master of being inconspicuous, for sure. 

“Excuse me? May I bother you for a moment?” Such a basic question, and yet his accent caresses each word with a musical quality. 

“Hi, yes?” You inquire, finally meeting his gaze. If there ever was a moment to ‘audibly swallow’ as so many fanfictions describe, it would be now. 

“Well, I must have a very strong grip because my pencil broke before I could get a single line on paper,” he says, holding up his broken pencil. “And as my brother would say, I do not have a brain, and forgot to bring another.” 

He pauses for a moment to admire your amused smile at his words which bolsters his own. He gives a little shrug, “He also says to get out of my room and write, but I cannot do so without a pencil, sì? I end up bothering a lovely young person like yourself who have better things to do than entertain such an old chatterbox.”

“Is there a question in there?” You tease, arching a brow. You tilt your laptop screen down to better see him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan your face. 

He puts his hands up and you take note of a signet ring on his right hand, but from this angle, you are unable to see the symbol adorning it. “What did I say, huh? I talk too much. My question is, do you have a pencil? Or a pen, if it is not too much trouble.” 

“Are you a writer?” You ask, picking up your bag to rummage through for the pen you know is hiding at the bottom. 

“Perhaps it is one of many things I do.” 

“Perhaps?” You find the pen, and pull it out, scooting back from your chair. 

“No, no, please don’t get up,” he says, slipping from his chair to approach you. You feel a rush in your chest as he comes to stand beside you, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, immediately entranced by the lovely shade of green in his right one. 

“One would have to write to be a writer, no?” He continues, lightly taking the pen from your hand. His ring has the sigil of Lucifer carved into the face. 

“Which is what you were doing, until your pencil broke,” you point out. 

“It is more of a hobby than a profession.” 

“A writer is a writer no matter if you do it day, night, or in between time spent staring into the void,” you say, your eyes returning to your half-closed laptop.

“Ah, I am familiar with the void,” the man chuckles softly. 

“Hell?” You question, your gaze once more falling to his ring. 

His handsome features turn confused for a moment, following your gaze before stretching out his fingers and making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Ah, my ring! Sì, sì,” he laughs again, turning his hand this way and that to admire the gold. “Do you believe Hell is a void?” He asks you then. 

“I don’t believe Hell is particularly anything,” you return, watching as he pulls out the chair next to you, pausing for a moment to give you a questioning look before you nod, and he settles himself in. 

“What if I told you Hell is a beautiful place?” The man asks. 

“Are you preaching?” 

“Preaching is one of the things that I do,” he shrugs. 

“Usually one introduces themself before trying to convert another to their religion…or cult?” You smirk. 

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline and his full bottom lip drops open. There’s a beat of a second before those fingers are once more running through his dark hair as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I am being not very nice,” he shakes his head. “You can call me…Terzo. And no, I am not trying to convert you. And no, it is not a cult.” He slaps his lips, waving his hand around like a conductor. “Okay, maybe it is a cult, but it is a good one!” He pauses. “Sometimes.” He pauses again. “It is trying to be.”

“Interesting,” you say slowly.

“I am bothering you,” Terzo mumbles, placing his hands on his thighs as he moves to stand. “Mi dispiace. Sorry. Sorry.” 

“Hey!” You reach out a hand to touch his arm. As your fingers wrap around his wrist, the both of you freeze - you in your seat floundering like a fish and Terzo half-standing, the oddest expression on his face. You quickly let go with a small apology before saying, “I meant interesting as in actually interesting. I’m interested.” The last part comes out almost like a quiet plea. 

Terzo nods slowly and sits back down, his knees cracking as he does. He gives you a weak smile as he reaches a hand down to rub at one absently. “Do not get old.”

“Are you Italian?” You question. 

“What gave it away?” He teases, arching a bushy brow.

“Accent and interwoven Italian words aside, it was your name. Terzo means third, right?” 

“Do you know Italiano, uh…okay, now you are the rude one not giving me your name, huh?” He smiles. 

You laugh and hold up your hands, “You got me.” You provide your name, and Terzo lights up, tilting your pen still clutched in his hand toward his chin. “What’s that sneaky expression for?” You add. 

“Names have power, don’t you know? You have given me a gift.” He wiggles his foot, tapping the pen against his chin. 

“Are you going to take my name back with you to your non-cult cult?” You reach out to close your laptop the rest of the way, wholly invested in this conversation. 

“Only if the owner comes with it.” He leans forward, a glint in his white eye. 

“Ha! Knew it. You are trying to convert me.”

The both of you break into easy laughter, and you notice that Terzo’s smile has finally reached his eyes, so unlike the half-smile built into a blank face he provided Penny earlier, or the melancholy which overshadowed his playfulness with the little boy. His smile is crooked, wide, and his eyes wrinkle deeply at the corners. It’s sweet, and so very beautiful. 

“You did not answer my question,” Terzo continues, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Do you know Italian?”

“Ah, no,” you laugh shyly. “I just know primo, secondo, and terzo mean first, second, and third. Among other random vocabulary.” 

“Well, you just named three men of the Emeritus family.”

“Emeritus? Is that your last nam-…wait,” you arch a brow. “I named them?” 

“Eh sì, my eldest brother Primo, then Secondo, and myself. My fratellino is Copia, he was spared the numerics,” Terzo shrugs amusedly. 

You start to speak and then stop, looking down at the table, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you fight a smile. 

“I realize it sounds ridiculous. Our father, as Copia likes to say, is a dickhead,” Terzo supplies. 

“Okay, it’s funny,” you concede, grinning. “But it’s not…it’s not bad. Terzo is a very lovely name. I like it. After all, three is considered the perfect number. Full of magic.” 

“I have been known to carry a few tricks up my sleeve,” Terzo says with a charming smile. “Do you believe in magic? In the alteration of space and time? Conjuration, for example.” 

“I believe that there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand.” 

“Ah! And Hell is so hard to believe?” 

“I don’t know. I guess if I had to believe in something, it would be what you said. That Hell is beautiful. I’d want it to be accepting of flaws. And mistakes. Lucifer was the original rebel, right? I don’t want to believe in a place of pain,” you say, unable to believe that you’re discussing the afterlife with this man, virtually a stranger. Really, you can’t believe you’re talking to him at all. Your night at the diner is certainly not the quiet, uneventful one you expected it to be. 

Perhaps a new story began the moment Terzo Emeritus walked through that door. 

“That is a Christian concept. And excuse me, fucking wrong. I know this, I am Papa,” Terzo delivers this line as if he’s done it a hundred times and believes it to be one hundred percent true. 

“Papa?” The word comes out of your mouth as if he just announced himself as “big daddy” to the entire diner. 

Terzo’s expression drops in an instant. The confidence he exuded moments before melts away, his fingers twitching and tapping against the table with a nervous air. He tries to smile, but it wobbles, becoming a strange half-frown. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Per favore, eh…please.”

“What are you trying to write?” You ask, gesturing toward his little notebook which still sits at his table, closed. Terzo gives you a small smile of thanks before getting up and collecting his things, returning to your table to sit and open his notebook to the page he was working at. 

He wags a finger at you. “Big mistake inviting me to sit, now I won’t fuck off. Dispiace. I say fuck a lot. And shit.”

“Every writer needs a colorful vocabulary.” 

“Ah, sì. And you are so intent on hiding yours, huh?” He makes a playful grab at your laptop. You almost shout in alarm, pulling it back, before looking apologetically around the diner. Penny squints at the both of you suspiciously. Terzo snickers beside you, his hand to his mouth. 

“It’s not done,” you hiss quietly. 

“You expect me to show you mine then, tch tch tch!,” Terzo shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of a little tit for tat, darling?” Terzo’s smile widens and he ducks his head to try and peer under your half-closed screen which you swiftly close with a click. He tilts his head, gazing at you from beneath long lashes. “Is it erotic?” 

You give him a withering look, your cheeks flushing a pink that makes his eyebrows raise with a gentle smile that replaces his teasing smirk. He appears fascinated, his eyes scanning your features for several seconds. You have no words for the sudden change in his demeanor, and you look at him with equal quiet reverence. Something unknown passing between the two of you. 

“I should not tease you,” he says then, his voice a few octaves lower. “I never show my writing to anyone, well…that is going to change soon.” 

“Why’s that?” You ask, your gaze falling to his notebook where his messy cursive loops across the page, rendering you unable to read it from your position at the table. 

“If you must know, curious thing, I am writing a song. I am a musician. A singer,” he says, bending his hand at the wrist which he flings to the side with a grandiose flair. 

“Really?” The incredulity in your voice makes him frown at you, a bushy eyebrow arching.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“No! No, it’s not that. I just would think as a songwriter, you would sing or…like someone would have heard your work at some point. Why keep it a secret?” 

“You are full of questions, volpino,” he says with a little smirk, tilting his head to regard you with amused eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you answer immediately, shying away from his gaze. “I guess I’m prying pretty hard. Tit for tat, right?” 

“I never said your curiosity was unwelcome. Believe it or not, but I like to talk about myself,” he winks, and it makes you laugh. Terzo closes his eyes and hums a little. 

“I’m writing romance. Which, I know. Not exactly original.” 

“Che cosa?” His eyes open and he shakes his head. “Not original, pah! Some of the greatest works in the literary canon are romances, yeah?” 

“I can hardly write like Jane Austen,” you scoff. 

“Sì, but perhaps you are more like a Brontë. Ah no,” he snaps his fingers. “Mary Shelley.”

“Frankenstein isn’t a romance,” you say, laughing softly as he holds up both of his fingers, leaning forward in his chair. 

“Then you are not reading it correctly,” he says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment which momentarily distracts you. “Who do you believe is the true monster? Victor or the Creature?” 

“Victor,” you answer immediately. 

Terzo smiles and nods, gesturing at you with his hand. “Then it is a romance. Albeit, a tragic one.” 

“The Creature wanted to be loved,” you say quietly, looking into Terzo’s eyes, and unintentionally focusing on the white one. “They saw him at face-value, not the soul who celebrated nature, who yearned for purpose, and was cast out by the man who was supposed to be his father.”

“Exactly,” Terzo whispers, nodding slightly. That heavy melancholy was back, settling over the lines of his face like a shadow which he hid behind a mask of easy smiles and witty banter. His Creature. 

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, unable to hold yourself back when this mysterious and beautiful man looks so incredibly sad. If you were being honest with yourself, there is something about his melancholy that feels familiar to you, like a beast you are too afraid to poke. 

Terzo merely smiles, and leans his head back to laugh a little, rubbing his hands together before picking up his notebook. “Sì! I am always okay. Always good. You asked me about my song, correct?” He enunciates the word, landing hard on the ‘T’. “It is called Zenith. I am not usually the songwriter of my eh…little group. This is a first. And I expect it will not go over well.”

“Go over well with whom?” 

“Now you are asking the right questions, volpino. There are…individuals, hmm…authority figures in my organization. Let me rephrase that - there are individuals in my organization who think they have authority. They have to approve the song.”

“And you think they won’t?” You ask, suddenly feeling like you are hearing things that perhaps you shouldn’t be privy to. Secrets unraveling, another chapter of this mystery opening the more the man talks. 

“Perhaps they do not like me very much,” Terzo says wryly, a dry smile on his lovely features. 

“I don’t see how anyone could dislike you,” you say, that pink touching your cheeks again. Your words make Terzo chuckle quietly, and he rests his elbow on the table as he brings a thumb to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip of it as he looks at you with nearly hooded eyes. 

“Do you like me?” He asks softly. 

The old jukebox in the corner, its light flickering faintly, comes to life with a squeaking click as one of the worn tracks slides into place. It takes a moment for the speaker to push out the song, crackling before settling into a low static hum behind the vocals of none other than Frank Sinatra. 

“I love this song,” Terzo says, looking pleasantly surprised as he stands and strides closer to the jukebox, placing his hands on the glass to peer closer at the inner workings of the old thing. You breathe a small sigh of relief, or is it disappointment, as you dodge his question.

“That thing turns on by itself all the time. Something inside must be busted,” you say, standing up to move beside him.

“Ah, not broken. Simply yearning to sing, sì?” He says, glancing over at you with an amused smile. “You know this song?”

“Frank Sinatra?” 

“Molto bene, mio volpino.” Terzo takes a step back from the jukebox, a hand pressing against his chest as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes. “Over and over I keep going over the world we knew,” his voice floats effortlessly, soft and persuasive, in the space between you. “Days when you used to love me.” 

You watch him sing with parted lips, your brow furrowing as you’re filled with awe, but also an ache deep in your chest. A yearning for the strange man you fear will disappear from your memory forever when you leave this diner. He opens his eyes and pins you with a stare, his smile very soft, but quirks in a way which whispers mischief. Terzo holds his hands out to you, fingers curled slightly as he tilts his head to the side. “Dance with me?” He says, his tone gently demanding. “With Papa now, sì?” 

“That’s the second time you said that,” you note with a small grin, reaching out to place your hands in his. His fingers are chilled as he pulls you in, a hand naturally falling to your waist. Your breath catches, and he smiles. 

“Ah, slip of the tongue,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the blush on your features.

“Something you do often?” Your voice is a little breathless as he turns the both of you, and you look down at your feet, chewing on your bottom lip as you beg whatever deity out there to not step on his. 

Terzo lets go of your hand for a moment to gently tap your chin. “Eyes up, tesoro. And as for your question…,” a wide smile crosses his face, a tiny chip in his front tooth. “I use my tongue very often.” His pink tongue wets his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a moment before slowly and sensually letting go. 

Your eyes widen and you giggle nervously, “You are…something.” 

“Something good?” His eyes flicker with amusement before his mouth pops open in a little ‘O’ shape. “Ah, yes! You never answered my question.” He pulls back to spin you around, laughing again when you do an awkward little turn on your heel. He draws you even closer then, his hand flexing against the small of your back. “Do you like me?”

“We just met.” Your voice is small, and your eyes focus intently on the dark chest hair peeking out from his purple button-up. 

“Sometimes meeting is all it takes,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes find his again, and you don’t think you’re dancing anymore, but you’re still swaying - your heart, your mind. Swept up in the softness of his eyes as they look back at you with…hope. Glaring desperately from green and white depths. The vestiges of a younger, happier man. And there’s a part of you that wants to cry. 

“I like you very much, Terzo Emeritus.”

His response isn’t what you expect. His head raises slightly and he peers at you with curiosity, his brow furrowing as he searches your eyes for some kind of answer to a question you aren’t privy to. You get the sense that he doesn’t believe you, that he’s waiting for the punchline to some cosmic joke. “Well!” He says finally, his face dropping back into that easy smile. He waves a hand. “I am an old man. Do you see? I moisturize but,” he clicks his tongue. “The lines, they grow. I appreciate you entertaining me, eh?” 

Your brow furrows and your mouth presses into a thin line as you gaze past him with the intent to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “You think I can’t like you because…you have wrinkles?” The word comes out slightly high pitched and confused. “Make it make sense, Mr. Emeritus.” 

Terzo’s bushy eyebrows fly into his hairline and he looks vaguely disturbed. “I am not called that often…it is weird.”

“Oh, right. You’re Papa,” you wiggle your brows, and the man groans. His fingers dig into the small of your back and he pulls you closer, dipping his chin to regard you with a heated stare that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“You should be careful with that, amore,” he murmurs, his voice low like the crackling of firewood, flames licking over the endearment. “I could have you saying ‘Papa’ in a more…breathless manner, hmm?” 

His words alone are enough to knock the wind out of you, and he knows it, a twinkle in the man’s eyes that tells you this isn’t his first passion play. The song is long over, the jukebox having gone back to its eerie nostalgic silence, yet he turns you again, his shoes sliding along the faded linoleum floor like butter. You are, perhaps, less graceful. 

“I thought you were too old?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes. Terzo looks briefly affronted, and the nearly outraged expression on his face makes you burst into giggles. He wags his finger in front of your face before placing both of his hands around your back, lacing his fingers together and drawing you forward until your hips are flush. That shuts you up very quickly. 

“I know what you are doing,” he purrs. “But I can play, too.” He smiles and sighs, looking up at the cracking ceiling before returning your gaze. “And yet I see your point. But it is true, volpino. I am much, much older than you.” 

“I think whether or not I’m bothered by that is my decision, don’t you?” You ask.

Terzo concedes, tilting his head a little. “In my faith, it is encouraged to follow your desires.” 

“Oh, right. Your non-cult cult. How could I forget,” you tap your finger to your temple and Terzo chuckles. You smile back, wrapping your arms around his neck. A million possibilities, a million ways the night could have gone, and you got the one with Terzo. Your smile softens, your eyes taking on a tender reverence, and you can see pink dance at the edges of his cheeks. His wrinkles smooth as his face falls into almost boyish wonder while the two of you sway to nothing. No, that’s not right. You’re swaying to a music all your own. 

“You have a really nice face,” you murmur, your voice coming out in a soft hush. 

“You aren’t lying.” It’s said as a statement. Confusion lining his words, his eyes widen just a fraction. This isn’t the first time in the night where you wanted to just…ask him if he’s okay? Hug him. Your words appear to confound him, and a hand lets go of your waist to touch his cheek, his fingers following one of the deeper lines. “You know, in my line of work, I usually wear a full face of makeup.”

“Is this where you tell me you go by…Paprika Smear or something?” You tease, eyebrows raised. 

Terzo laughs so hard, everyone in the diner, who isn’t already watching you like you’re the first interesting thing to happen in decades, are gaping now. Penny hasn’t turned the page in her National Enquirer in the last ten minutes. “No, no, no. Ah, my naughty volpino. What I am trying to say,” he clears his throat. “I do not show my face often. What you said…grazie mille. I am often not kind to myself.”

“I have no reason to lie. We just met, Terzo. This is my perception of you. My honesty. I feel like you’re looking for a different answer or…looking for deception.” 

“I am looking for something real,” he says, with vulnerability in his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have had something real.” Terzo releases your waist and removes your arms from around his neck, but he holds your hands in his. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, admiring the contrast of your hands together, and he brings them closer, cradling them near his chest. 

“I can be real,” you say, turning your hands to lace your fingers through his despite his tight grip. Terzo takes a deep breath, his lower lip quivering slightly as he thinks. 

“And if I told you to know me is to know Satan? If there are dangers in my life, amorino? Things your beautiful, sweet mind could perhaps not comprehend?” His voice has turned nearly desperate in his speech, pained. And yet despite his warnings, you don’t feel afraid, or concerned. There are no red flags waving over Terzo’s head. You just see someone very alone. 

The shrill ring of a cell phone slices through the tension like a heated blade, and the two of you freeze for a moment before Terzo sighs, heavily, his shoulders falling like rocks have been placed on his shoulders. He gently pulls away from you, his hands lowering yours back to your sides before he’s digging into his pocket. “Sì?” He snaps into the phone, listening to the voice on the other end. “Perhaps I am not ready to come back…because I am Papa and I say so…of course I understand!” Terzo runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in a few places. “You tell that stronzo he can wait…ah-but…dai!...alright, alright. I will see you soon.” 

Terzo puts his phone back in his pocket, and looks at you with an apologetic smile. “It seems our dance comes to an end, eh?” You stand facing each other, and panic seizes your heart in a fist. If Terzo walks out that door, you may never see him again. It almost strikes you as odd, the way he managed to wrestle his way into your very being in your short evening here at the diner. There was no feasible way you could sit back down and go back to writing, surrounded by the same monotony while this man is somewhere in the world. 

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been really into theistic Satanism lately. Gosh, if only there was a place, or someone, that could guide me.”

Terzo stares at you with an unreadable expression, and then he takes a step forward, and places his lips against your forehead. He chuckles softly, “My evil plans worked, volpino. I am converting you.” He pulls back to wink. “You like me.” 

“I already told you that-” 

“Sì, sì, I am only teasing,” his smile broadens and he smooths back a strand of hair from your forehead. “This is a big thing for Papa, no? Something real.” 

“You’re going to have to tell me why you keep calling yourself that,” you giggle, shaking your head. Terzo’s fingers cradle your jaw and tilt your head to meet his gaze. 

“Come and find out.”

Another look is shared between the diner writer and the mysterious stranger. But this one? It’s a look of yearning. Yearning for a future that changes the both of you. That a man can learn to love himself again. That the walls of this diner will let you go. Terzo grabs his jacket and his little notebook, and you slip your hand into his pocket to grab his phone. 

“Already, amore?” He says, his grin wide, and you laugh and swat him with a hand. You type your number into his phone and slip it back, but Terzo grabs your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses the soft skin. “I will see you soon,” he promises. 

“Arrivederci, Terzo,” you sigh dreamily. 

“Eh, we will work on your Italian,” the man rolls his eyes playfully. 

Terzo walks toward the door of the diner, and you sit in your seat. Is it possible to change in a single evening? You don’t feel like the same person who watched this man walk in with the perfect hair and pretty accent. And you get the feeling that he isn’t the same person now either. Terzo stands in the doorway, looking back at you, and he smiles. A smile that lights up his whole face, and is really, truly…happy. 

When he’s gone, you open your laptop and stare at the pages you had written earlier. With a wry smile, you shut your laptop off and gather your things. Walking to the front, you toss a few bucks on the counter. 

“Gettin’ cozy with that eye-talian man, huh, honey?” Penny asks, chewing her bubble gum as she looks you up and down with the eyes of a seasoned gossip. “Be back tomorrow?” 

Your phone buzzes and you glance down, grinning before taking a breath and looking back at Penny, the diner, and its forever patrons. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

[sophiasharp]

I feel like the new Bug’s relationship with confidence is… complicated.

Because, on the one hand, fucking look at him on stage. Dude isn’t just playing, he’s performing. He exudes this natural sort of charm and ego, doing fancy tricks and striking poses to make the crowd go wild. It looks almost effortless, the way he slings around his guitar and plays to the crowd.

His interactions with the ghouls are much the same. On stage, at least, it looks effortless, you’d have thought he’d known the rest of the band his whole life. It’s almost as if there were never a time where he wasn’t there.

I would say the rest of the band feel this way as well about him; he’s blended in almost seamlessly into their pack. He’s friendly, polite, and always eager to help.

… maybe a little too eager.

Because his place in the pack isn’t just from sheer, easy charisma, just like his playing isn’t as effortless as it looks. It all requires an intense amount of practice and upkeep to maintain the fragile balance he’s struck within the pack, at least in his own mind.

It’s not an act, necessarily, but… well, it’s not NOT an act either. The new bug was summoned in a whirlwind, a race to summon a ghoul and train him up enough to perform on stage right before the start of tour. Adjusting to life on Earth is difficult for ghouls as is, especially when you’ve spent your life in the Pit as isolated as he had, and the shorter timespan before officially leaving the Abbey only added to the stress.

I don’t think he’d even seen a guitar before coming to the surface, much less known how to play, and the dude was handed one practically as soon as he was summoned and told to make it work. No one explained to him the elemental affiliation with instruments so the fact that he was able to pick up on it quickly, as far as he’s concerned, was completely up to dumb luck. He put back-breaking effort into perfecting his playing, ensuring the effort they’d gone to to bring him to the surface wasn’t wasted. It was a lot of pressure for a new summon to be under.

And that’s another thing; not only was he expected to become the new rhythm guitarist for a world—renowned band on the fly, but he was replacing a beloved member of the team, not only in the eyes of the public but in the eyes of his new pack as well. Sure, Aether isn’t completely gone, but he’s absent now for a great portion of the band’s time. For all intents and purposes, the new ghoul had taken the place of one of the pack’s most crucial members and was forced to figure out how to navigate this new position he was in.

So, just as he put everything he had into learning guitar, the new ghoul threw himself headlong into becoming what his pack needs: a safe space for Rain, a calming presence for Dew, a stress reliever for Mountain, someone to dote on for Cumulus, an extra pair of eyes and hands for Cirrus someone to confide in for Aurora. No matter what the situation, he’s become determined to be exactly what his new family needs when they need it. It’s hard to be replaceable when they need you, right?

Only he’s spent so long being what the others need that he’s neglected to truly be himself. He loves being helpful for his new family, but at the same time he’s never fully left the fight or flight panic of when he was first summoned. Everything is still so new to him all of the time and he just has to roll with the punches and hope it looks like he isn’t trying too hard to keep up. He has no idea who he is when he’s not being of service.

He’s so scared all the time of messing up, of not being enough, of being told his summoning was a mistake and that they’d be better off sending him back to Hell, but he’s got no one to share this anxiety with, not yet anyway. Sharing that amount of vulnerability requires an amount of trust that isn’t quite there yet with the rest of his pack.

Till then, the new bug is the epitome of the phrase “fake it till you make it,” and his hope is that maybe, if he fakes it for long enough, both his on and off-stage confidence will become real.

[undyingghoul]

Valentine's Ghoul/Ghoulette Headcanons

Hey, look, content! I am so tired and cannot think at all but I am doing this anyway. happy early valentine's day you guys, i hope it's good for you all <3 ~~~~~~~~~ Dewdrop- He won't let anyone know he enjoys it, not even his dear valentine. He's secretly very into the holiday but lucifer forbid he let it show in an obvious way. Flowers? Nah, he'll give you a nice bouquet of nothing. Chocolates? Overrated, overdone. He hisses at even the thought of giving them to his valentine. There will be a nice card though, entirely handmade. He'll also make a coupon booklet... Except it's not entirely hugs and kisses, if you catch that drift, but those are included for the sake of fluff and wholesome purposes. He's a sucker for that secretly too. He won't do a fancy smancy dinner, but rather get a takeout dinner of your choice (he'll ignore Swiss puppy dog eyeing it and whining for some from the kitchen entirely by the way). Overall, he has his own special way of celebrating, but he still makes an effort for it to be as perfect as possible.

Mountain- Flowers. Right off the bat. The minute he sees his valentine? A nice bouquet of flowers tailored just for them in a fancy vase. He'd also get you a small basket filled with your favorite snacks, drinks, small items, and a card. Mountain is very traditional when it comes to this holiday but he wouldn't have it any other way. He'd spend the entire day by their side, doing what they want when they want, how they want. He'd end the day with a nice candlelit dinner in the greenhouse with your chosen dinner he cooked just for his valentine. And of course some snuggles and cuddles. That is a must you know.

Rain: The lake is the hit spot for Valentine's day. Rain planned out an entire day at the lake, getting Dew in on the fun by helping keep things warm if it gets too cold. Dew agreed to help because he knew how much Rain was worried about this day. He wanted to help Rain have it be as smooth as possible. Rain also may or may not have gotten help from Mountain in decorating the lake with pretty plants. And the picnic on the dock was just amazing even though Rain fell into the lake at one point from tripping over his tail. Perhaps he was a soggy boy, but a happy soggy boy.

Swiss: At first Swiss didn't know what to do. Everyone else had grand ideas, but then he remembered how busy the local shops were this time of year. It was almost like the universe wanted this to happen. He took his valentine to the shops with maybe too much money, but what better way to spend than spending it on someone you love and cherish, right? He bought some cupcakes, cookies, and brownies to share, salty and savory things, and way too many physical items. That one wrap he had at an American food stand really hit the spot for him though. After the day was done he came back with his valentine carrying so many bags Phantom nearly passed out from laughter- apparently, he looked a bit ridiculous to the young quintessence ghoul with the amount of bags, a furiously wagging tail, and a stupid grin on his face. But it was all worth it in the end.

Phantom: Oh LORD did he go above and beyond. When he found out this holiday was a thing he maybe got excited. Too excited. He may have collapsed from dizziness from how excited and riled he was. After Aether forced him to chill out for a bit he sprung into action, prepping everything for his valentine. Outfits, dinner, things to do- He had it all planned. He picked a nice outfit for him and brought his valentine to a local clothing store to get some clothes they wanted. After that, he spent time with them at the small library. He had somehow convinced the library to let him rent it for the day and he had used one of the corners to set up a cozy little nest area to read, chat, and snack in. He read books to his valentine, ones he knew they'd been meaning to read, and just soaked in the calming aura and presence. A nap was in order for a few hours but afterwards Phantom cleaned up their corner and took his valentine back to the Abbey for a nice dinner in the dens (it took some convincing but had the ghoulettes back him up to get it cleared for an hour or two). Needless to say he was in bed with his valentine and sound asleep before the rest of his pack came back.

Aether: He kept it on the down low. He didn't go above and beyond but didn't make it a sad holiday either. A card, a thoughtful and colorful flower bouquet, a small thing of candy and chocolates, and an adorable stuffed animal. He spent the day with his valentine entirely, watching cheesy romance movies, feeding them some chocolate snuggling up to his valentine under a nice cozy blanket, and ending with a nice pasta dinner. Though the day was not very busy it was still enjoyable and a good day. Cumulus: This ghoulette was prancing around in joy when she woke up. She fluffed up her hair all nice, put cute bows and ribbons in it, dressed in a nice casual yet alluring outfit, and sprayed some perfume on her. When she saw her valentine she was over the moon. Greeting them with a hug and a kiss on the cheek she quickly pulled them out to the gardens for a nice, slow walk. Talking, laughing, playful smacks and shoves- Oh how she loved it. Seeing her valentine smile and laugh made her purr and tail wag. She picked berries earlier from the fridge and brought them on the walk, sharing them and basking in the wonderful taste. It wasn't long before one naughty joke was made about that wonderful taste that had her cackling. At the end of the day she made a thoughtful dinner of all her valentine's favorites, along with some fruit on the side and a nice cold glass of soda. Cirrus: She made little puffball clouds for her valentine in the shapes of hearts as they woke up that morning. With a giggle escaping her she led her valentine to wonderful breakfast variety, filled with many options of sweet, salty, and savory. After a filling breakfast she took her valentine to the rooftops and made the clouds dance in the sky as the sun rose. The clouds reflected the colors: oranges, yellows, reds, purples, and pinks all seeming to mix into the clouds as they danced. She moved a cloud or five around her valentine slowly, letting it grace their skin to feel the cool sensation. After puffing the clouds back into place in the sky she just enjoyed time on the rooftop and its view with her valentine, talking about anything and everything until night hit and it was time to eat some dinner. Something easy was made that night but it was a very calming way to end the day.

Sunshine & Aurora: These two tag teamed it. Sunshine was experienced, and Aurora was beyond nervous. Sunshine agreed to help the new ghoulette traverse this holiday. Guiding Aurora carefully while her valentine was so incredibly patient and understanding, Sunshine couldn't help but smile. After some time Aurora became more comfortable and relaxed, easing into the holiday slowly. She paired with Sunshine to help put on a small show of fire and water with a touch of air. Sunshine swirled fire streaks through Aurora's clouds and through the center rings of water, letting the gentle burning fire swirl around her valentine. In the middle of the day it was declared by Aurora that she would share her valentine with Sunshine because she didn't want her to feel left out. Sunshine puffed a plume of smoke from her nose in excitement. The trio spent the day doing whatever they could find, even some arts and crafts that turned out to be an absolute blast. To end the day, Sunshine fried some fish in a pan and served some rice to go with it. Aurora added a small salad bowl and a fruit bowl into the mix. It was a delicious dinner and the best way to end the holiday.

[dewedup]

mountain being terrified of spiders, like tears, squealing, the works. dew has to follow him to the greenhouse every morning to do a perimeter check, sighing and knocking down the offending arachnid when he hears mountain gasp, pointing shakily at the upper corner of the building.