i really liked your v/umbra fic. what other shenanigans have they gotten into? has v adopted any of umbra's ghoulish quirks? is umbra discovering human things that she likes? :3
:D
Perpetua has always been somewhat ghoulish- he's downright offputting to some humans of the clergy, much like ghouls are (which is not really the ghouls's fault, it's just that the telepathy ghouls use to communicate happens to activate the fight or flight feeling in most human brains), they move oddly, they stare unblinking and stands still in shadows... Umbra's actually taken up those last two because of Perpetua's influence. For Umbra, everything Perpetua does is perfect and good, so she copies them. She's also, like, twelve feet tall when fully unglamoured, so that's a hell of a thing to run in to when a bishop or partitioner is scuttling down the hall to the vending machines and bumps in to the largest ghoul standing like a massive gargoyle, albeit a gargoyle with her tail wrapped around the current Papa... Umbra is very protective of Perpetua and tends to pick them up with her bony tail when she senses they're upset.
Most of the sheannigans the two have gotten into mostly do with Perpetua's disregard for decorum, Umbra's disregard for sibling Special's rambling speeches about why constant glamour is important on tours. More than once Frater's gotten a call from the band's road crew about structural damage caused by Umbra grabbing Perpetua (suffering from anything from a sensory overload to a flubbed line during rehearsals) and holding him in her ribcage as she climbed to the ceiling of whatever venue they were in... Frater has to add money to the "oops we fucked some shit up" card (Special called it that once and it stuck much to the chagrin of everyone else), the road crew has to coax Umbra down with shiny trinkets and, once she and Perpetua are safely on the ground, Lux (the huge grucifix lighting fixture) is activated to compel immediate shapeshifting (the lights on stage have always been part of an obfuscation tactic, but starting around the end of the Prequelle era, Archbishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis was asked to work up some arcane sigils to etch into the fixtures to further keep the illusions in check)
An alternate take on Chapter 23. Toying with the Oedipal vibes presented in the chapter. Don't like don't read etc etc.
---
"Might I be able to stay a while, be your 'captain's mate'?"
"Are you kidding? That would be a, a delight! Of course! I would love that."
"Good. So it's settled. You're going to stay 'til the end of the campaign."
"Y-yes. Yes, I am."
The specter of his mother smirks. "Fantastic." She appears to step closer. "Now, get some sleep."
"I will. I will..."
The ghost shakes her head and briefly attempts to pull her son off the small couch in which he had been resting. She could open a door, but she could not touch her son- her phantom hands drift through his wrists. She stands straighter. "Not here, darling. Why are you sleeping on a loveseat in a random day room? Did no one show you the Imperator suite?"
The Frater had been trying to spread his suit coat out over him like a blanket; he hesitates and stares up at his mother. "Ah, well, yes, but..." He swallows a rising anxiety. "That was a while ago, and what with all the, the moving around, the being the boss now, I lost track of..."
Her transparent stare wilts him. He looks at the coat in his hands and fumbles with the chain attached to it.
"... I haven't been in there. Feels wrong to be in your space."
Sister scoffs. "Nonsense. Come on, get up. You're sleeping in my bed tonight."
The Frater stumbles to his feet and follows his mother. She moves confidently through the renovated office and living quarters.
The space referred to "the church" had always been a sprawling thing of unknown dimensions. It was made up of hundreds of acres and a handful of buildings that dotted the acres like jagged black tombstones. Records concerning the years in which the buildings had been commissioned and built were lost when a library on the lower floor of the dormitory building flooded. When he was growing up, once his adoptive parents deemed him old enough to join the clerical ranks, the Frater had lived in a cramped little dorm room with other priests and bishops in training in that oblong building on the eastern side of the church grounds. He spent most of his life there, hustling up and down staircases and darting across halls with books and scrolls in tow, or stumbling around in the dark catacombs to fetch ritual wines and fancy cheeses. Or he would be in the church itself, the inverted cross-shaped building of blackened stone and burnt wood in the heart of the acreage, preaching or partaking in profane prayer. Or he would be here, in the offices and living quarters of the higher-ups of the clergy, taking notes from Papa Nihil or dusting for Papa Nihil or avoiding the lecherous eyes of Papa Nihil. Only a few times before his role as band leader was the Frater permitted to leave the church grounds, on missionary trips to big cities. But most of his life, he had been here.
The Frater trips and backs up to the door where Sister is standing. The ghost of his mother (she looks younger than me, that's not fair) opens the door to the room, her old bedroom. She walks in confidently and sits on the bed and beckons him to follow her. Obediently the Frater sits beside her, near the pillows.
She frowns. "It doesn't look like this room's been touched since I died."
"Why would it have been?"
Sister sighs and places an icy hand on her son's thigh. "Because it's your room now, C." He avoids her gaze and instead reaches over and reverently touches a pillow.
"I know," he says softly. "But it still doesn't feel right to be here."
"Why? I don't need it all anymore. I'n dead."
The Frater picks the pillow up and hugs it tight. "I know, mom. I'm just- I think I'm dealing with a lot. Not just the administerial bullshit."
He buries his face in the pillow and breathes deep. Sister's ghost raises her eyebrows.
"You always wore the same perfume," the Frater muses. "Even, uh, even way back there, when you were my boss- I mean, I guess you were always my mom, but we had that time where I didn't know this so..." He turns to look at his mother's youthful specter. "I always liked it. It was a comfort, I think. As foolish as it sounds. It meant, ah, the Imperator is here, she'll tell me what to do, all I gotta do is, is do the things."
Sister's ghost turns her head slightly, looking at her son more intently. Unseen gears spinning in her spectral mind. The Frater sets the pillow aside. "That smell meant I didn't hardly have to think, just, just, y'know." He flicks his wrist. "Obey." The Frater groans and hunches, burying his face in his gloved hands. "I can't be you. I can't give orders, I can't make anyone obey me."
Sister smiles.
"You miss being told what to do."
The Frater nods slightly. His mother's ghost stands, her heels somehow making an authoritative click on the hardwood floor.
"Things will look and feel better after you get a real rest. Now, stand up, and go to the dresser. No son of mine is sleeping in his suit."
The Frater pulls his hands away from his face. "M-mom?"
"Did I stammer?" She glares down at him. "Get up, C."
"Yes'm."
The Frater stands and walks to the dresser. He ignores the dust layer on her belongings. A perfume bottle, a hairbrush. Framed photo of him in his Papa Emeritus IV days.
"Open the second drawer. Choose something to sleep in."
The Frater hesitates.
"Now."
He obeys. His gloved hands yank the drawer open. Inside is an assortment of neatly sorted, delicate, lacy underthings. The Frater feels a heat rise in his cheeks.
"M-mom, I can't wear-"
Sister chuckles. "I guess my memory's a little hazy. Okay, try the third drawer."
The Frater obeys. He sees short shorts and large shirts. Slightly more manageable sleepwear, in his mind. Behind him, his mother's ghost taps her foot impatiently. "Well? Pick something out."
"Yes'm."
Her son grabs the topmost items and turns to show the ghost his picks. She nods and tosses her ponytail over her shoulder. "Put 'em on, C."
The Frater swallows and turns his back to her. He sets the shirt in the still-open drawer (a KISS shirt? Cute) and tries to disrobe with the shorts in one hand before the sound of Sister clearing her incorporeal throat causes him to set them in the drawer as well.
He kicks off his shoes and removes his trousers in a surprisingly graceful motion. His body is cold and his face is burning. He keeps his focus on the task at hand. The Frater steps into the shorts and pulls them up. Sister gives an approving noise.
"You still have a dancer's legs," she says gently. "You danced in the church troupe, right?"
The Frater smiles. "Uh, yes, a little bit. Until the summoning routine practices interfered with my work for, for Nihil, and you, uh, suggested that I focus on my duties to him instead." The Frater shakes the memory away. "Then I got to be the band leader and I had to be, y'know, in performing shape."
"You still are."
The Frater squeaks. He fumbles with his buttons and gets his shirt off, then drapes the KISS shirt over him. It's tighter than he would have liked, but he's got no room to be having body image issues now. He turns to face his mother. She is smiling approvingly.
"Cute!"
The Frater shifts from one foot to the other, then bends to take off his sock garters and socks. Sister giggles.
"You've become quite a classic older gentleman, haven't you, C?" She stands and gestures to the bed. "Come on, you must be so tired."
"Yes'm."
Her son lifts the covers and wriggles under. The bed is soft and comforting. He pulls the covers over himself and up to his chin. The Frater breathes deep, inhaling the lingering perfume. Sister leans over her son and presses a ghostly kiss to his forehead, then his lips.
(or, "Zombie Tries to Fit Their Special Ghoul and Ghoul Headcanons into Ghost's Ever-Shifting Canon Lore") pg13, no plot
--Sometime before the first reveals--
Frater Imperator was not a happy man. He was bitter. He was cranky. His back hurt, his left sock had a small hole in it, his coffee was too hot, and he was still reeling from losing his previous job. Oh, sure, he had fared better than the poor asshole he had replaced, and the asshole that asshole replaced, and the asshole that that asshole replaced. They were all dead now, taxidermy displays in glass coffins for fans to pose for selfies with. The Frater was alive and in his mother's position as Imperator of the Clergy.
Whatever that meant.
Mister Psaltarian, the Frater's stern adoptive father, said it meant "you're in charge, twinkle toes." So, the Frater tried to act it. He gave orders. He pointed with stern resolve. He said things like "run it up the flagpole" and "put a pin in this."
No one seemed to listen.
So Frater Imperator sat in a freshly-emptied storage room he had claimed as his new office- a space in which he had a real desk and a real chair, a space in which he could be alone to draw the singer who replaced him being eaten by sharks (or sharp-toothed salmon, as the Frater's drawing skills were somewhat lacking). He was so invested in his angry doodles that he didn't hear a nameless ghoul enter the room.
"Your Imperatorship?"
Nameless ghouls do not possess the capacity for speech. They don't have vocal cords, or throats, tongues, mouths, or lungs. They communicate by emitting a psychic frequency- telepathy, in layman's terms. However, one particular ghoul had an uncanny telepathy that somehow tricked human brains into thinking they were processing audible speech. This ghoul had a brief career as a spokesman for the band project, responding to interview requests in lieu of the Papas.
This was the Special Ghoul.
This was Phil.
Frater Imperator crumpled his vent art and tossed it towards the basketball hoop hanging over a small garbage can in the corner (he missed). "Special," he said as cheerfully as he could, eyes on his still-steaming coffee, "how goes the band coaching?"
In addition to his voice lending to him doing interview work, Special was also keenly adept at shapeshifting. All nameless ghouls possess a degree of shapeshifting ability, mostly to hide their horns and wings from view, but Special found he could alter his skin texture and color as well. He could transform from a dull grey, gargoyle-esque being of Hell into, in his words, "I dunno, just some guy." Special trained the band ghouls to alter their appearances too, so they looked like humans in costumes and masks.
He was really good at his work.
The Frater tore open three sugar packets and started pouring them into his coffee as Special spoke. "It goes well, I think. The new guy wants a lot of skeletal things, which, you know, I'm not a big fan of, but I talked him into this, uhhh, we're goin' for a painted jumpsuit kinda look."
The Frater harrumphed.
Special drummed his fingernails on his clipboard. "The rhinestones are killin' me though. I'm havin' to study light diffusion." He chuckled. "Remember when I gave you a hard time for the chrome masks in the Prequelle era? I'd love to do chrome now."
Upon a mention of his era, his first era, the Frater finally turned his full attention to the nameless ghoul standing before his desk. Special was in his full human visage, and he was beautiful. He was a pale man just shy of middle age with the sort of long, flowing dark blonde hair you'd used to see on the heads of the chiseled Adonises gracing the covers of trashy romance novels. His eyes were emerald, verdant pools of absinthe. His nose was long with a fascinating crook to it, as though it had been broken and set incorrectly years ago. His long fingers, clutching his clipboard, appeared to have long nails painted black. The Frater knew the ghoul willed his talons to appear as such. A ghoul's real talons were nasty things, dull black with curves like a reaper's scythe. Tools for rending flesh. Now, in this space, Special's choice of presentation struck the Frater as a sort of, what would the youth call it, androgyny? Ghouls had no sexes or genders, after all. Why would any of them shapeshift themselves to squeeze into those labels if they didn't have to as part of an act?
"Like whatcha see?"
The Frater stumbled out of his reveries when Special's telepathy gently nudged against his thoughts. He looked back up at the ghoul's face. Special was grinning with perfectly imperfect teeth. He drummed his nails on the clipboard again and raised it slightly to point at a sticker.
"Vintage Vinyl! Remember that joint in St. Louis? Good place, man." The ghoul faltered. "Er, your Imperator-ship-ness, sir."
The Frater leaned back and adjusted his collar. "Special, we're old pals. I'm fine with you calling me Copia."
The ghoul's expression remained unchanged but Copia could hear his whip-thin tail wagging ferociously.
"O-oh, okay, cool, Copia."
Copia smiled and sipped at his now decent-temperate coffee. "So," he said after setting the cup down, "what is this rhinestone issue?"
Special fumbled with his clipboard before using his tail to take it out of his hands. He stepped closer and held a hand out over Copia's desk. Almost instinctively, Copia took the ghoul's hand in his and held on to the long fingers. He didn't see Special's smirk.
"Okay, so The band and me are gettin' real good at the shape of a rhinestone." As he speaks, the back of his hand shifts subtly, gently rippling like water barely stirred by a gentle breeze. Several small raised geometric facets appeared. Copia brushed a gloved thumb over them. He would always be amazed at the abilities of the ghouls in the church.
"But the transparency, an' gettin' light to bounce off the right way, it's-" Special flexed his fingers slightly. The facets disappeared. "It's a fuckin' lot, if I may speak bluntly, Copia."
Copia squeezed Special's hand and looked up into those dazzling green eyes. "The new guy sucks, right?"
Special hesitated. He chewed his lower lip a second.
"He's the worst," he assured his old friend. Copia let go of Special's hand and stood, rounded the desk and pulled the ghoul into a tight hug.
"You really needed to hear that?"
Copia nodded against Special's shoulder. Special grinned and patted the former singer's back. "Oh, well then, let me tell you buddy, this guy! Like, what even is this album's theme? Y'know?" Special's tail set the clipboard on the desk and wrapped around Copia as the ghoul fully embraced him and continued to stroke his ego by trashing the new singer. Copia made appreciative noises and finally broke the hug long enough to look the ghoul in the eyes again.
"Are you fucking with me?"
"No way, man."
Copia pressed a kiss to Special's lips.
"I think I love you."
"Nah, you just hate the new singer's all."
"True. But you're really attractive like this, too."
There was a flicker in the air, like heat wafting off a hot car, and Special was bereft of his disguise. His horns curved above his head, his long pointed ears stuck out, his skin was a dark dull gray, his face was just a set of wide, unreflective black eyes, his hair was a mess of long, thin feathers, and those talons pressed daringly into Copia's back. Special stretched his wings.
Copia nodded. "I think this form's hot, too. I'm comfortable enough with myself to admit this."
Special giggled and said "Well if you're not expecting to have any more meetings today, you wanna, uhhhh, do somethin'?"
Copia glanced back at his desk and his coffee and his paperwork and his computer screen and his emails and
It is unseasonably warm outside. The air ghouls have been insisting, in their own way, that the gathering clouds to the west will bring torrents and chills, but until the clouds meander closer, Copia is uncomfortable. He tugs at his rhinestone collar. He stops to quietly curse his dress shoes. Why did he agree to this. Why did Perpetua whine to be shown the gardens. Why didn't Copia send Special to do this. Special loves to talk, Perpetua loves to talk, Copia could have had a few quiet hours to learn how to fucking use Canva.
Speak of the devil, Perpetua stops and turns to see why Copia has stopped. Perpetua is as dressed down as they like to be; that is, they are in a suit almost identical to Copia's, though lacking the rhinestone collar, and the clasp gems of their pectoral cross are amethysts, not rubies. They smile at their twin.
"Everything okay, Fraaater?"
"Peachy" Copia grumbles. He closes the space between them and gestures with a gloved hand. "Welp, here's the gardens. Hooray. Let's go back inside already."
As Copia speaks Perpetua skips- skips!- down the path further into the array of rare and deadly florae the church has cultivated and nurtured over the centuries. Copia glares and stomps to catch up.
The gardens are dappled with shadow but only slightly less warm than the open land. A few Earth ghouls chitter softly amongst the winding branches and leaves, some carrying bags of bone meal in their tails, tucking the nutrient-rich powder in around sprouting vegetation, others harvesting toxic flowers for rituals. The air is thick with sweet and earthy scents. Copia takes a deep breath and coughs. Fucking pollen.
Perpetua waves Copia over to a cluster of wild red flowers. "Check this out" they chirp excitedly, flapping their hands and bouncing on their heels. Copia heeds his sibling's' beckoning.
"Yep. Flowers."
Perpetua giggles, a peal of bells, and proudly corrects their brother. "Lycoris radiata, also known as the red magic lily, the red spider lily, the equinox lily, the corpse flower, and the resurrection plant. In Japan they herald the coming of autumn and are planted around rice fields to deter pests, as the bulbs are poisonous."
Perpetua takes a breath, eyes behind their mask fixated on the spindly red petals of the flowers. "In Buddhism they are the flowers that grow in Hell, and they guide wandering souls to their next reincarnation."
"Huh."
The two stand in silence. The shadows dance across them as the wind caresses the leaves overhead. An earth ghoul walks by, a basket of blossoms and fruits in its arms.
"Am I annoying?"
Perpetua is still looking at the spider lilies and picking at the polish on their nails. "I feel like I'm annoying. I could have just told you 'these are spider lilies' but instead I told you everything I know about them." They briefly glance at Copia. "That's not how normal people talk."
Copia tries to think of something reassuring to say. Instead, he laughs. He laughs and grabs his sibling's shoulder and shakes them a bit. "Nothin' normal about this family, Perp. And, uhh, I quite like your, the knowledge that you drop." Copia smiles. He doesn't try to force eye contact. When Perpetua wants eye contact, they make it abundantly clear. Instead, Copia, still smiling, takes his sibling's hand in his and gives it a reassuring squeeze, then plants a kiss on their bare knuckles.
"You talk like you. That's beautiful."
Had they not been wearing their corpse paint, Perpetua's blush would be as red as the lilies. Luckily the paint and mask are enough to obscure it, though Perpetua tugs at their suit collar with their free hand.
"I feel warm all of the sudden. We should get back to your room. I like your air conditioner. It has a great ambience."
Copia, damn near sweating through his suit, nods. As the two venture back to the church, thunder rumbles overhead.
(Content warning for smoking and allusions to incest) (and bad parenting)
--
A small group of Aether ghouls wandered across the roof, their cloven hooves silent on the ceramic shingles. Their feathers rattled softly with adornments of tin foil and animal bones. Their black eyes cast upward, they moved to the ebb and flow of a cosmic serenade only they were able to hear. The ghouls paid no attention to a latch clicking, to a door opening, to a disheveled Frater Imperator as he stepped out onto his balcony.
The Frater put a cigarette between his lips and flicked his lighter. In the flickering flame's light, he could see the apparition of his mother pretending to stand at the balcony's rail, waiting for him.
"That's filthy," the specter chided.
The Frater took a long drag and sighed the smoke out before answering her. "I'm not a singer anymore. I don't have to worry about damaging the, eh, the ol' voice box, right?" He chuckled darkly.
His mismatched eyes avoided hers but he could feel the knife's edge of her stare. He adjusted his plush blue robe, obscuring the claw marks and bite marks adorning his bared, hairy torso.
A whimper from his bedroom caused him to lean his head back a bit, just to peak inside at the other occupant of his bed.
The Frater took another drag and spoke to his mother through his smoke, "he'll only sleep in my bed. Or swaddled in a ghoul's wings, but that can't be good for the back, so." He flicked red ash at the balcony floor. "Here we are."
The ghost of Sister Imperator steeled herself. "I know Perpetua's existence came as a shock to you, Cardi-"
The Frater coughed, then laughed. "Oh yeah, that day of 'you're fired, you're mom's dead, no you have your dead mom's job, here's this new fucker to take your place, oh bee tee double you he's your twin,' that was a hell of a day." He watched the lit end of his cigarette a moment, waiting for the ghost to say anything else.
When she didn't, he pressed on.
The Frater turned, slightly, almost meeting her eyes. "So, hey, just wondering, why split us up? I worked like a dog for Aunt Marika and Mister Psaltarian when I wasn't playing errand boy here, I'm sure they would have loved to have double the child labor."
"Cardi, I-"
"Do you even know where Perpetua was sent? Where he was raised? He doesn't talk about it, except in his sleep. My Latin's rusty but I hear quite a lot of 'mea culpas' in his blubbering."
"If you would just-"
"But you didn't care. You didn't even care to tell me you were my mom until, until I was Papa. And Nihil-" Copia took a long drag and stared into the night. "He didn't know who I was, ever, right? Until he was good an' dead?"
He glanced at his mother. "I worked for him from the time I was a teenager. He hit on me constantly." The Frater drew a circle in the darkness with his cigarette.
"This family tree's a goddamned, uh, a tumbleweed."
"Enough." Sister Imperator's ghost pretended to move closer. Had she physical form, she would have slapped her insolent son. "You have no idea what I went through. I had no choice-!"
The Frater looked his mother's phantom in the eyes.
"Yeah, you did. A lot of 'em. And you chose the only thing that mattered." He pointed his cigarette through the illusion of her chest.
"You chose yourself."
The Frater stepped back and smoked. The ghost seemed to tense. Then, she softened.
"I just want to know that my sons are okay."
Cardi took a final drag and hissed the last bit of smoke out through his teeth. It curled around his head like horns.
"When I find out, I'll be sure to let you know."
The Frater dropped his cigarette stub and turned, re-entering his bedroom, and closed the door behind him.
The ghost of Sister Imperator lingered on the balcony until the sun started to rise.
Ooo for the short story thing can I say the too loud prompt with Perpetua y umbra? Unless u wanna do other characters of course
Nameless Ghouls are not living beings. They are not born, they do not grow, or age, or breathe, or bleed. When summoned to the planet we call Earth they appear, for the most part, as roughly humanoid beings, albeit with stony, mouthless faces, wide black eyes, hair-like feathers, wings, tails, cloven hooves, and taloned hands. They all have a pair of ears and horns, the shapes and sizes of which vary from beast to beast. Their tail tips denote a specific elemental affiliation which must be maintained for the creature to keep a solid form.
Without mouths or lungs, or vocal cords or throats, the nameless ghouls speak telepathically. For many humans it registers as a terrible, fear-inducing sensation. For some, it falls upon their brains as a harsh whisper.
For the man known as Papa V Perpetua, it is sometimes loud.
"Too loud, dearest," Perpetua whines. He is sitting up in bed and clutching his pillow to his head, attempting to use it as earmuffs, despite knowing full well that he isn't actually hearing the ghoul.
\I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO CHANGE MY MANNER OF SPEECH\ the ghoul responds apologetically. Bereft of its stage glamour, the air ghoul towers over it's human. It is a newer ghoul, having emerged shortly after Perpetua's ascension to the papacy. The ghoul that now manages the relations between ghouls and humans- referred to as "Special" within the church- was astounded by the new ghoul's size when it first came up from Hell. "You sure you ain't three ghouls, uhhhh, stacked up in a trenchcoat??"
The giant ghoul set its inky gaze on Perpetua and that, as they say, was that. It imprinted on him much like a ducking does to its mother. Ignoring Special's babbling entirely, the large ghoul lurched and lumbered to Perpetua. He stared up at its stone face in awe.
"Can I call you Umbra, dearest?"
Again, that, as they say, was that. The two became inseparable. Are inseparable. On tour, after the final bows, Umbra sheds her glamour and takes Perpetua into its arms, or wraps its tail around him, or swaddles him in its wings, and carries him off so he can come down from the high of performance.
Tonight Umbra had placed him gently in his bed on his private bus and glamoured itself to a more bus-friendly size- but opting to appear more skeletal than humanoid, as it found Perpetua preferred- and had begun to speak about the concert when Perpetua had rolled over, clutching the pillow to his head.
"Too loud," he whines again. Umbra reaches over with skeletal hands and gently pulls the pillow away. It sits down and frames its human's face, careful to not move the shining mask. It moves its glamoured skeletal jaw carefully as it forces its telepathy through the temporary sac of vocal cords it willed into existence inside itself (the ghoul called Special had been coaching the band on how to do these things since the Prequelle times, to further the illusion of the band ghouls being simply musicians in costumes).
It speaks in a soft, mellifluous voice.
"Is this better, my Papa?"
Perpetua smiles and leans forward. He presses a chaste kiss to Umbra's shapeshifted teeth.
My mind can't focus hard enough to pick a single character for that ask game rn, so how about 5, 6, & 9 for any Ghost character of your choosing 👻🤘
I'm going to yap about Special Ghoul since he is my boy :3
5) Social headcanons (what do they think of their friends/allies if they have any, what are they looking for in relationship, what people tend to think about them...)
-- My nameless ghouls are very different from the fandom at large. Mine aren't alive, technically. They don't grow up in Hell in packs or herds or flocks. They simply are not, and then they are. That being said, the nameless ghouls that arrive in the church tend to huddle together in clusters of half a dozen or so, no more than ten usually, typically keeping with their own elements, but there are mixed groups as well. Special, when he was summoned, was never part of these clusters. Special is the black sheep of nameless ghouls. He does not behave like a nameless ghoul at all- his voice is broken, he wags his tail, he wears clothes, he feels feelings more intensely- and this led to exclusion in his early years. He kept up a good nature about it and tried to use his broken voice to engage with humans. Hell, he's the reason the band project uses ghouls! And he's married to Copia. So there's that. Papa III officiated. A was the best man. And the flower girl. And the ring bearer.
6) Psychological headcanons (tastes, fears, talents, regrets, how they deal with anger, just anything that comes to mind on the topic)
-- Besides his broken voice, Special's glamour abilities are far and above that of most nameless ghouls (really, demons of such low ranking should not have that much strength). Over the decades he's learned how to create the look of fine lines, pores, freckles, and, to his chagrin, teeth. He coaches the band ghouls so they all appear as humans in outfits. Now that Perpetua is in the picture, Special has also unofficially taken somewhat of a talent wrangler role. Perpetua's still adjusting to his new life and vacillates wildly between being locked in and crashing out. Special is used to Copia's moods and has found that, hey, Copia's twin has a lot of the same likes, so I'll make sure to keep this stuff stocked for those crashes.
9) Headcanons about their past
-- Like all nameless ghouls, until he arrived on earth, he was nothing. He was less than nothing. He was Not. Like all nameless ghouls, when he was summoned, he was knitted in to Being and thrown onto Hell's plutonian shore from the wine-dark sea of primordial ooze. Like all nameless ghouls he stood and walked into the glowing ring beckoning him. Like all nameless ghouls he crawled up from the summoning ring embedded in the floor of the church's sub-basement. He stood and stretched his wings and shook off the last bits of primordial ooze clinging to him. A blob hit a candelabra, which sent candles rolling, which set a hanging wall tapestry ablaze.
Please send me asks about my nameless ghouls I have such specific and niche ideas about ghouls you want to know about my ghouls yes you do you want to hear incredibly unique and interesting takes on them
