Chapter Text
“I can barely remember my own death.” Swiss speaks.
Dew’s tail flicks lazily back and forth as he sits, perched on the edge of Aether’s knee. Around his waist, Aether’s arms held him possessively while Dew’s fingers card through Rain’s hair, who is lying across the couch. In fact, the three of them are like some kind of cuddle pile. The rest of Papa’s ghouls' lounge around as well, half listening, half watching their newest member.
You sit apart from the group. In your own chair, with your own space, deemed not as an outsider, but still not quite one of the group. You aren’t entirely sure how you got on this topic, but it had been brought up before when you were all on tour together. Though you disliked it and it exhausted you, the other ghouls seemed intensely curious.
“I do.” Dew pipes up, “It wasn’t so bad.”
Swiss snorts from where he’s laying, feet propped up in Mountain’s lap, head leaned against Cirrus. “Bullshit. You just want to act tough in front of newbie here.”
“Vendetta.” You finally speak, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been on a whole tour with you guys, you can stop calling me ‘newbie’”
Swiss grins, flicking his tail a little faster, letting it slap against the ground. His black eyes narrow in on yours but you don’t back down. “Fair enough, but it’d be easier if you had a nickname or something.”
“Leave them be.” Aether’s voice rumbles as he speaks and Dew leans into it. It is strange to see the little shit so submissive. On stage, he is full of fire, all energy, and chaotic violence, even towards Aether. Off stage though, he is smaller, tamed by the larger ghoul.
“We could call you Detta,” Cumulus suggests, though she isn’t really paying much attention, focusing more on the TV that is quietly playing in the background. “Or Vend.”
Swiss laughs again, “like vending machine?”
Cumulus tosses the remote at him with deadly accuracy, smacking it against his chest. Swiss hisses in retaliation, his fangs baring.
“Down, boy,” Cirrus warns quietly. Swiss only whimpers.
You roll your eyes. “Yeah, down boy.” You smile at him sweetly as he growls again. Swiss is dominant with the ghouls. But the ghoullettes tend to use him more like a pretty little toy than anything else.
You haven’t been a part of that. Not yet at least. It isn’t that you aren’t interested, you are plenty excited for that, no, it is more because of your current fragility. You haven’t been a ghoul for long, you only died a decade or so ago. And your resurrection only occurred in the last year. You are young, your ghoulish strength hasn’t quite manifested yet, nor your resistance to injury that the others have. You aren’t entirely sure your body would survive the physical shit that they did. They like playing rough. Hell, you only just got your tail, it is still soft and gray rather than the tough, leathery black whips that the others had. The spade on the end of yours isn’t even fully shaped yet.
“So what do you remember about your death?’ Rain asks sounding small and shy. But he looks at you intently, as though almost desperate to hear your answer.
He is one of the quietest in the group. Except for Mountain, he is the most reserved of them all. Unless he is with his black base on stage. That, it seems, really got him going.
“Not much, it was a while back.”
Most of the ghouls and ghoulettes laugh at this somewhat. They are all far older than you, hundreds of years older.
“Come on.” Dew whines, “spill. It’s been a boring day, we could all use something exciting.”
“I really don’t remember much.” You say quietly. You try to picture it all, but it is blurry, buried deep in your subconscious. Just attempting to recall it makes your head ache and sends uncomfortable chills through your body. The ghouls can sense this in you, the feeling. It is a result of the special bond you share with one another. They can feel what you feel.
“I wonder what they’re serving for dinner.” Mountain muses quietly, distracting from you as they all clamber up, suddenly noticing their own hunger.
You don’t join them, instead wandering back to your own room, closing the soundproof door behind you. You feel exhausted. Becoming a full ghoul is a long process that could take up to three years. Though you're almost done, you’re still not quite there yet. You still don’t have the thick gray skin. Your eyes, while already glowing yellow, haven’t developed the charcoal, smoky gray color that should replace the whites. You are more ghoul than human, what with the psychic connections and highly attuned senses, but you certainly aren’t all the way there yet. “Fragile”, Aether put it once, when you’d asked to join in on one of their after-show parties. You are just too fragile. You feel it too. Not just in the sense that you aren’t fully transformed. There is something broken in you, though what it is, who knows. But there is a feeling inside of your chest that feels as though you are always about to shatter. You never confess as much. Despite the bond shared between the bandmates, you never can get over the feeling that they preferred it more before you were there.
You take a moment to glance in the mirror, checking for any changes that might have occurred since you last looked. The most disappointing thing is the scarring on your arms and thighs. They remain there. All other marks on your body fade, but ghouls keep the scars that existed on their human bodies. Eventually, they would turn a shade of gray darker than your skin tone. But for now, they are pink and fresh against your pale skin.
Exhausted still, you sit down on your bed heavily. Your skin feels like it has been rubbed raw by the uniforms that the ghouls wear outside of the rituals. All ghouls are required to wear their masks when they can be seen by others. But you haven’t had to yet. As soon as your horns start to come in and your skin starts to gray, then you will have to. For now, you just wear the dark trousers, jacket, and shirt provided by the Clergy.
The clothes are fine quality, well made, and tailored to your ever-changing physique, but they irritate you. Ghouls’ skin is far more sensitive than human, and especially now, it feels like sandpaper constantly rubbing on your whole body. You shiver at the sensation but try to ignore it. Stripping the clothes off feels like admitting your own weakness, so instead, you just opt to take off your boots and fall back against the bed, sleep finding you rather quickly, despite your discomfort.
But it doesn’t last very long. A cry wakes you from your slumber, and it takes you a minute to realize that it was your own. Sweat drips from your face and hair, your lungs gasp for air as you try to calm your racing heart as it attempts to beat right out of your chest.
“Fuck.” You mumble quietly, rubbing your eyes. It had been a dream, you realize, though of what exactly you have no idea. When you try to recall it, nothing comes to you but a feeling of overwhelming nausea.
All ghouls are made into ghouls for a reason. Typically, they died tragically and young. But more importantly, they died convinced that they deserved to go to hell for all of the wrong reasons. And so they were resurrected. This resurrection is a chance to live out life further than they were allowed before.
You know you have a tragic past, hidden deep in your mind. You’ve seen the scars on your body, you know that you used to hurt yourself. Sometimes, that urge still kicks around in your brain. You know you died young. Your body only looks around twenty-five years old, though it’s hard to tell. But you don’t know what killed you, and it’s haunting. Because every night you wake up like this, in a cold sweat, having dreamt of your past. But you can never ever recall what happened.
There’s a knock at your door, so light that you think you might have imagined it until it comes firmer again, more insistent. You consider not answering it, you don’t really want to be bothered, nor are you equipped mentally for company right now. But then Aether’s firm voice calls from the other side of the door.
“I know you’re in there. Open the door.”
Aether is a far calmer ghoul than the ones like Swiss or Dew so you’re fairly sure he won’t pounce on you if you open the door. Besides, you trust him. Stumbling over, you let him in, swinging your arm wide to welcome him into the darkened room. Only the bathroom light is on, and you cringe as Aether flicks the overheads. He notices and turns them off immediately. You can feel the concern radiating off of him.
“You don’t look well.”
“I don’t feel well either.” You snap back, sitting back on your bed with a groan. Your skin feels like it’s burning and yet freezing at the same time. Aether hesitates for a moment before cautiously approaching you. He must feel your apprehension, because he moves slowly, hands out placatingly as he does so.
“You should take your clothes off.” He tells you, voice soothing something in your mind, fighting softly against the fight or flight mode that your transformation put you in.
“Maybe you just want to see me naked.” You are clearly joking and Aether chuckles at you.
“Maybe I do, but for now, I just want you to be comfortable. The fabric is really abrasive on your skin, it helps to not wear it.”
Rubbing your eyes, you realize you really don’t have the energy to strip, even though you know he’s right.
“My sheets aren’t much softer.” You say instead.
“Fair.” He says. “Give me a minute, I have something that can help.”
He rushes out of the room with the signature inhuman speed of a ghoul, looking like a blur to your eyes. A moment later he returns, carrying a bundle of blankets under his arms, grinning.
“These should do the trick. Can you hop off the bed for me?”
You shake your head. “I don’t think I can even move right now.” You groan.
He sets the blankets aside and then takes your arm gently. His are warm through the fabric of your shirt. Just this simple touch soothes you. Aether pulls you up and holds you upright as you lean into his shoulder heavily. He’s much bigger than you, shoulders at your forehead level. He takes your weight and scoops you up like you’re nothing, bridal-style carrying you over to a nearby chair, draping you across it. You find it so hard just to keep your eyes open and he brushes a stray bit of hair jet black from your face, you, whimpering at his touch. It makes you feel weak, but so cared for that you are conflicted.
He strips your sheets and blankets back, laying the fuzzy soft ones so that everything is covered by the new blankets he brought, even the pillows and fitted sheets.
“I need you to stand for a little while.” He whispers to you, suddenly very close. His breath is warm on your cheek as he pulls you up and helps you to stand, though you sway. Sturdy hands secure you in place at your hips.
His fingers swiftly undo your buttons, of both the jacket and the shirt underneath, pushing them from your shoulders and onto the floor.
“Arms up,” Aether commands and as you comply, he helps pull the tight sports bra over your head, tossing it aside. You thought that you might feel uncomfortable, being so exposed in front of this ghoul. But it makes you feel warm inside. It is probably a result of the connections that the ghouls experience with each other. They have no shame to hide from one another, no secrets. You hope that soon you’ll feel the same mental security, though for now, physical safety feels alright.
Aether’s hands undo your belt and pants, sliding them off your hips. He pauses at your underwear though.
“Off?” he asks quietly.
You nod, not really caring. Aether had probably fucked every ghoul in the group a thousand times, there was nothing he hadn’t seen. So he strips you down and then lifts your frail, naked body, laying you on the soft blankets, before pulling up heavy layers of warm fabric on top of you. You whimper at the loss of his skin-on-skin contact. It had been so soothing. But the blankets were nice too.
He turns to leave but you cry out to him mentally, though that takes a lot of energy for you to do in your transformative state.
Please don’t leave. You know you sound pathetic.
“Not pathetic,” Aether tells you. “We were all like this during our transformation.”
“I feel so weak.” You mumble.
“Give it time. You’ll get stronger soon.”
You barely have the strength to nod as Aether slides into the bed behind you. His clothes feel suddenly abrasive against your flesh and you feel shaken.
“I can take them off, but you might not like it.”
You don’t really care. You couldn’t. Your whole body felt like it was dying, whatever relief looked like it didn’t matter, you needed it desperately.
You feel Aether tug off his clothes then wrap his arms around you, pulling you snugly against him. He was pressed up so tight behind you that you could feel his semi-hard on that was forming. Oddly enough, it didn’t make you uncomfortable at all. It felt normal, natural to you, to lie with the ghoul in such a way. They were all so comfortable with each other, you could be too. Besides, his skin felt wonderful. Warm and soft. It stopped your chills.
You lie there for a few minutes, enjoying the sensations that fall over you. Even the ones that warm the lowest parts of your gut. You purr lightly, surprising yourself at the animalistic qualities you are beginning to display. Aether places a rather affectionate kiss on the back of your neck, exposed by the short hair you are sporting. Eventually, you find yourself drifting, resting peacefully for the first time in a long while.