#ghoul behavior

[littleghoulghost]

Headcanon: Ghouls have natural shapeshifting abilities. This is what LG uses in The Eldritch Eight Ball to terrify Copia. This also applies to the rest of the ghoul's body as well. So they can put in a lot of effort and magic into changing their appearance or physical sex. This is typically only done by the ghouls that were not cis, or those whose human body was intersex.

Occasionally two ghouls of the same sex will make like clownfish and one might change in order to have a cub with the other. The one who changes is typically one that had no real attachment to their gender in human life.

Basically almost anything goes, but this type of change is not.easy and must be committed to for a long period of time before they can change again.

[sativaasiren]

Me, on July 11th: oh I think I haven’t changed my phone over since April

Oops

[youkaigakkou-tl]

At the start & Now with Hatanaka and Miki

[divine-misfortune]

Cumulus had no idea how to take care of her extremely curly hair for a really long time, always having this poofy mess, Swiss having to sit her down and show her how to tame it and care for her hair to keep the curls curling instead of becoming a mass of frizz

And she pretends not to get it for a while longer so he'll keep sighing and dragging her into the shower with him to do it for her

[tg-headcanons]

Something I think about a lot is how Akira is definitely a freak but she just gets away with it because there’s so many other freaks around her. That woman is deranged. Her mother died when she was young and her dad went murder crazy so she had to raise herself in a house full of weapons made of corpses. She went to Murder School and was the best at Murder School. She prefaces conversations with her coworkers by saying that she refuses to speak formally to save 30 seconds a day and that is more important to her than being respected. She gave her cat a French name and she does not speak french. She got so drunk and horny that she called her coworker dad. I bet the contents of her kitchen cabinets are insane. I need her

[forlorn-crows]

what if mountain had to be sheared like a sheep yearly

[doeyedeath]

ministry masquerade ball … thots ?

[ashthewaterghoul]

Give us the swissyy thoughts:3333

>:)

CW - Toxic family, substance abuse, sui-attempts and self-harm tendencies.

Below the cut because you get all the yaps... And there are many...

Okay! So, I hc that Multis are very rare. Especially Swiss who is an all element Multi. His strongest elements, in order, are Fire, Quintessence, Earth, Air, Water.

Elements have to come from the bio parents of a Ghoul so with Swiss being born to a family of pure Fire Ghouls… Yeah, he’s an illegitimate child.

His mother cheated on her mate, the father of Swiss’ half-siblings, with an all-element Multi. When all-element Multi has a kit with a single element Ghoul, it’s got a like 99% chance of just being the single element. But Swiss defied all odds and came out with every element. So, his mother’s mate obviously knew something had happened and Swiss was hated by everyone in his family for ruining it.

His infernal name he was born with translates to “The heaviest burden”.

His mother and her mate, Swiss’ step-dad technically, had another kit after he was born. One of those “let’s see if a baby helps” type of things but his parents were full of hate by that point, and they lived in spite of Swiss. He wasn't allowed near his little sister in fear that he would "taint" her and ruin her too.

Swiss as a kit was always trying to do anything he could with his Fire element to prove that he was just as good as his older siblings but he was always brushed away. There was many times he would heat himself up so much, to the point his skin would start burning. His parents would simply call him weak and kick him away.

He has no clue who his bio dad even is. All he was told was that he’s “a filthy half-breed like him”.

Multi’s are very lonely and shunned in the pits. So as soon as Swiss was able to hunt and forage for himself - which he had no guidance on and made himself go a fair few accidental mushroom induced drug trips - his parents kicked him out from the family and told him to never come back. He was 14.

Been as no other clans wanted him and he couldn’t get a job or anything, he turned to what most Multis usually have to do - using their body to get by. Multis have a reputation for being the horniest Ghouls but it's because they are presented no other choice. There was some encounters he enjoyed and was treated well, but many were essentially business transactions…

He only knew how to use his body and he kept that going when he was summoned too.

Sex essentially became a self-harm tool for him. Sometimes he would ask for a Ghoul to hunt him for the rough and feral sex he'd get from it after. Sometimes he would put himself in free-use situations because he felt the mental hurt from it. There was a few other ways too, but it was mainly stuff like that.

He only actually enjoyed sex with his pack, but he always found himself with Siblings and Clergy and plenty of people he didn't actually want. In the pits, he had a habit of using what they have in the way of intoxication to cope, and he did the same on Earth too.

Been as he was always raised being told he was useless, he always tried to be useful. He does have a very sweet and caring side to him but he rarely shows it, rather he lets himself be passed around because he is helping - he's helping people blow off some steam and frustration, or helping someone discover something new and helping people learn their limits better.

He knew it was unhealthy, he knew he hated himself for it all.

As well as using sex as self-harm, he did claw himself too. In the pits, it was nearly anywhere he could reach. After being summoned. He stays on his upper arms and thighs so it never shows when he has his uniform sleeves rolled up, and tries to glamour it all away as much as he can anyway.

His really bad spirals end up with him clawing across his chest.

He's definitely had a few attempts too. There's been two times he tried, one time he contemplated but was found before he could decide either way, and a fourth time where everything once again felt hopeless and he started thinking but then there was two new summonings announced. And something in Swiss' gut told him he should stick around for that...

[kkaisarion]

when rain does the leg thing. you agree. reblog

[evereverest2]

Pathetic — Terzomega

~part three of the Little Monster series~

3.1k words ~ smut

The night at the hotel doesn’t go quite as anticipated for the intoxicated Terzo and irritated Omega.

a tonal return to part one, but this time, the ending is not so mean spirited

[parts:] one | previous | next

—

The hotel they happened upon was not meant for someone like Terzo, who was drowning in his wealth and prowess. It was the type that the band usually stayed in while touring: cheap and convenient. It was neither trashy nor shoddy, but somewhere a middle-class family might stay on a road trip. Omega knew that Terzo would likely not prefer it.

Not that Terzo was lucid enough to complain.

The car driver ran inside. Terzo was lazily staring out the window. He returned after some minutes.

“They only have one room. It’s just a queen bed.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” Terzo slurred, waving him off. “We can all cuddle.”

Omega ignored him. “Are there any other hotels around here?”

The driver shook his head. “Not for another twenty minutes at least. Even then, they might not have any vacancy.”

Omega gritted his teeth. “Fine. Just get it.”

The driver ran back in. Omega left the car and walked around to open the door for Terzo, who sluggishly grabbed at random parts of the car to pull himself up. He was moving too slowly, so Omega yanked him out by the arm.

“Wait, my taco ring!”

Omega sighed, grabbing the box of tacos and slamming the car door shut. He supported Terzo as they walked inside, who seemed to have trouble walking straight. The driver handed Omega the keycard and told him the room they were in as they passed him.

“When would you like me back?”

“I don’t know.” Omega was too irritated to think with Terzo actively attempting to feel up his chest. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

The driver nodded and left.

Omega dragged him onto the elevator. Terzo tried to reach up to kiss him, standing on his toes, but he was too short to reach his lips. Omega refused to bend, even look down. Terzo grabbed at his shoulders and neck like a child, but he did not budge.

“You asshole,” he mumbled bitterly, giving up.

Omega guided them to their room. The moment he unlocked the door, Terzo leaped into the bed face-first. He sat up and enjoyed yet another taco.

Omega took off his coat and shoes, looking around the room. It was simple. Coffee-colored walls with green and white accents. He crossed the room and sat in the sage-green armchair, sighing. He did not care that they missed curfew; he only wanted to avoid spending the night with Terzo. In all their trysts, he had yet to sleep in the same bed as Terzo, and he was not ready for tonight to be the night.

“Mm,” Terzo waved at him, swallowing down a taco. “Come here.”

Omega stayed put. After a few minutes, Terzo stood and walked to him, standing between his legs. He looked down at him with unfocused eyes, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Omega said nothing; just watched. Terzo slipped it off his shoulders, dropping it to the floor. He unbuttoned his tight pants, drawing attention to the bulge peeking out from the open zipper. He gazed at Omega, his eyes peering through him from just above his sunglasses.

Terzo moved to sit on his lap, knees pressed between the armrests and Omega’s thighs. He grabbed Omega’s hand, guiding it to run across his torso, down to his crotch. Omega stopped it there, giving it a small squeeze but moving no further. Terzo’s eyebrows pinched.

“Mostriciatto, won’t you touch me?”

Omega cocked his head to the side, prompting him to continue begging.

“Please, Omega,” Terzo thrust his hips forward for friction.

Omega continued saying nothing. He dropped his hand, using his fist to rest his head. He continued watching him boredly. If Terzo wanted him, he would have to work for it.

Terzo frowned, looking offended. He stood, turned around, and began grinding on Omega’s lap, doing anything to get his attention. Omega was still silent, but his legs widened welcomingly.

“You like it,” Terzo smirked. “Should I keep going?”

He said nothing. Terzo stood, pulling away.

Omega was just about done with this night and thought he might as well get something out of the whole mess. And, of course, he never minded an opportunity to punish the cardinal with his body.

“Strip,” Omega barked. Terzo did so quickly, eagerly. Omega reached down to undo his own zipper, quickly yanking Terzo against him, his dick sliding underneath him. Omega held him by the throat, the waist, his nails digging into his skin. He murmured darkly, “Ride me.”

Terzo wiggled slightly, his breath labored, moving to press Omega’s cock against himself, slowly slipping it in with a gentle whine. Omega let go of his neck, grabbed his hips, and forced the rest in, their skin clapping together with the effort.

“Ah, mostriciatto, you always do that…” he complained, looking over his shoulder. “You are not one for foreplay, si?”

“Move.”

Terzo grabbed his thighs for support, his feet planted awkwardly, and began thrusting himself up and down. It was slow; he was making a great effort at it, groaning all the while. Omega breathed out a slow, deep breath, enjoying the sensation, even slow. He would allow it for a while because he knew Terzo was trying to adjust to his size. And heavily intoxicated.

But Omega grew impatient. Frustrated. This was about his pleasure, not Terzo’s, who had already gotten off tonight. He sat up, grabbed Terzo by the throat again, and began powerfully rocking upwards into him.

“Mostriciatto—” Terzo choked out. Omega hummed lowly, almost a moan, focused completely on abusing Terzo’s tight ass. Listening to his staggered breaths, his breathy gasps as he was choked, his stuttered moans. He reveled in it, wanting more of it. The urge to watch Terzo unravel filled his being. He wanted to destroy him. If he had to suffer sharing a bed, he would ensure the pathetic man could not move by the night's end.

Their current position was not lending to his speed. Omega picked up Terzo like nothing and threw him onto the bed, bending him over at the side so his legs still touched the ground, lending to a perfect angle for Omega. Terzo went down with a grunt. Omega grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head into the mattress, thrusting into him as fast as he could.

“Omega— Omega— Wait—”

Omega sensed something was wrong, as this was not his normal tone. He let go of his head, pulling out and backing away. Terzo urgently got up, stumbling away into the bathroom. Moments later, Omega heard retching.

He entered the bathroom to find Terzo hanging over the toilet, the night’s fun projecting out his throat.

That misery returned, filling the room like the stench of vomit. Tonight, instead of angry rain storms, it smelled sour, like a carcass left to rot in the dark. Omega could feel it clearly now. It was painful and gut-wrenching. Terzo stared at nothing, lying his cheek on the toilet seat, eyes welled with tears, grime around his lips and chin. He looked as if his soul had left his body. It was no wonder. Through feeling his pain, Omega felt his heart was being strangled.

“I’m sorry, Omega ghoul,” he said weakly. The tears finally burst from his eyes, down his face. He shut them as if the very act of seeing was too much.

Suddenly acting as if not his own, Omega sat next to him. He pushed the loose strands of black hair from his face, ripping off squares of toilet paper to wipe his mouth. His eyes opened again, filled with a spark of emotion.

“Are you okay?” Omega asked quietly.

Terzo shook his head. “I am pathetic.”

Omega said nothing, which prompted him to continue.

“The side effects of fun.” He smiled weakly. “It always hurts when you can think again, no?”

“What do you think?”

Terzo stared at the ground. “Where is that, eh, vodka?”

“You left it in the car.”

“How about my… explosion beverage?”

Omega’s brows furrowed. This game Terzo played of destroying his body was irritating. To hide his misery. Omega would no longer tolerate it. Without a word, he stood, retrieved his drink, and returned to dump it down the sink. Terzo watched, clearly disappointed.

“Asshole mostriciatto. It was to settle my stomach.”

“That wouldn’t have helped.”

“Will you get my cigarettes in my pants?”

Omega sat across from him, against the bathtub. “Take a breather.”

Terzo winced, idly rubbing his stomach. “It helps with the pains.”

“No.”

“I have a guy; he can bring us crack,” Terzo suggested.

“No.”

“Weed?”

“No.”

“Fine. What would you like?”

“Nothing. You’re done tonight.”

Terzo pouted. “I’d rather not, monstriciatto. I appreciate the concern, but tomorrow, we will be back in the Ministry, and I will be free from your control. I would like to skip the pain in between.”

Omega knew he was right. “You’re not getting anything from me.”

“Then I will grab my phone and get it myself.” He made no attempt to move, though, still clearly nauseous. Omega crossed his arms.

“You must hate me, Omega ghoul.”

He did. Well— he thought he did. This night was making Omega doubt that now.

“Do you like me in pain? No— I already know you do. This is why you choke me and run me into furniture.”

“That’s different.”

“I know how you feel about me, mostriciatto. Even now, I see how your lips curl when I call you that. You don’t like me. I know you sleep with me just to hurt me more. It’s fun for you to hurt me. I am not stupid.”

Omega had no response. He thought Terzo was too blissfully unaware of the world to realize, too consumed by his own self-flagellation. Omega always thought Terzo either did not know or did not care.

“I am right, no? So now you torture me with withdrawal to prove a point.”

“You’re the one who keeps coming back to me,” Omega said defensively.

“Because you don’t lie to me. When you fuck me with your hatred, you tell the truth. This is why I call you mostriciatto. You only treat me this way. You are my monster.”

Omega shook his head. “I’m not your anything. I just want you to stop getting yourself so fucked up it makes you sick.”

“Don’t pretend you care about me,” Terzo laughed humorlessly. “Let me be as you always have.”

“Terzo, I know you’re in pain, but—”

“No, you shut your mouth!” he shouted. “You do not care if I drink until it stops you from fucking me! Omega ghoul, you should know my feelings all along with your powers, and yet tonight you lecture me? I like you because you do not lie to me before, but now you do. If I let you finish up my ass, will you leave me alone?”

Maybe Omega had known all along that Terzo was struggling and chose to ignore it. Was it not so obvious all along? After all, how could he have shared such intimacy with him, over and over, only to not realize how he was coping with his pain? Where had Omega gone, a quintessence ghoul who once thought himself so empathetic, that he could ignore such a broken man? He was speechless. For so long, he had been filled with such rage and hatred that he had been blinded to those he once sought to help. He had been pulling away from everyone. From his duties, from his music, from his own ghouls. All he did was stalk around the Ministry, belligerently doing his hundreds of duties, avoiding everyone except Terzo, who allowed him to vent his anger without judgment.

Why had he been so angry for so long?

“It’s for your own good,” Omega finally said. Perhaps helping Terzo tonight could be his first step to being himself again.

“No, I am not feeling very good. Tomorrow, I will go to my quarters and forget any of this happened at all. You are just making me hate you. I do not want to hate you.”

“...Why not?”

“You are all I have, mostriciatto.” His voice was thick with tears. He looked away from him, clutching his stomach. “It is fine for you to hate me because it’s better than being invisible. But if I hate you, then I will have nothing.”

Omega stared at him. Suddenly, Terzo dove for the toilet again. Omega cringed in disgust.

“You already have nothing.”

Terzo spat a few times and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His glaring white eye bored into Omega, which was unusually unsettling.

“You think I don’t know that? I do not need you to insult me after putting me through this.” His voice broke, and with it came more tears. “You are being worse than usual.”

Omega decided to stay silent. The situation was quickly becoming something he was unequipped to deal with. Indeed, Omega still felt his anger, turmoil, disgust, and hatred toward the cardinal. Even if he wanted to help, he had trouble finding the words.

Terzo wept quietly, swiping toilet paper across his face to catch his black tears. Minutes went by before Terzo looked up again. He asked, “Please, mostriciattio. Just my cigarettes. It will help the nausea.”

Omega relented because he felt enormous guilt about the situation. He stood and delivered his request without a word.

His fingers shook fiercely. It took him several tries to even flick the lighter on. He inhaled slowly, smoke drifting from his lips and nostrils. After a few drags, Terzo was calmer. He moved to stand, clearly unsteady. Omega caught him on instinct.

“Let me go,” he huffed. “I’m fine.”

Omega ignored him, and Terzo did not seem to care. When they were stood, Terzo leaned on Omega as they made their way out, eventually reaching the bed to lie down. Omega lay on the other side with a large sigh. He realized how exhausted he was all at once. For just a moment, he allowed himself to shut his eyes.

Suddenly, a weight was thrown around his waist. His eyes shot open to see Terzo mounting his hips.

“No, Terzo. You’ve had enough tonight,” Omega said sternly, glaring at him.

“What? You did not get off.” The end of his cigarette was clenched in his lips, looking just about ready to be put out.

“I’m tired.”

Terzo ground down on his hips a few times, inspiring a measly half-on from Omega that he had no desire to satiate. Terzo himself was rock hard, and he was stroking himself lazily.

“It will be rapido,” Terzo said breathily.

“No.”

“Mostriciatto—”

“I’m serious. Get off of me. I’m done.”

Terzo’s eyes flit back and forth, searching. He looked down at himself, then back at Omega. He slowly stopped stroking himself off. An overwhelming wave of self-hatred and desperation began radiating off him, bringing back a sickly sweet stench like rotting flowers.

“What…” His face changed, his eyes wide, his mouth open like a silent scream. “What is wrong with me?”

Omega watched him, uncertain.

“You do not want me anymore?”

“Not tonight.”

“No… You ended us. You do not…” Terzo turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Terzo, I’m just tired, that’s all.” Omega watched him, unnerved at his instability.

“I will let you hurt me,” he burst out. “You can do anything you want. I don’t care.”

“No, Terzo.”

“No— no, you can do anything. You can bite me and break my bones, you can— you can kill me, mostriciattio, you can eat me alive. Anything.”

“No…” Omega was increasingly becoming disturbed.

“You like when I hurt!” Terzo sobbed, holding his head with one hand, his cigarette with the other. “When you hurt me, you see me.”

Omega shook his head slowly, stunned into silence. Terzo’s entire body heaved with his gasping breaths, crumpling into himself. He held up a shaking hand, with a burning cigarette butt between his fingers, and suddenly crushed it in his hand. He cried out in pain. Omega sat up, grabbing his wrist to force his hand open, letting the ash fall to the bed beside them. An angry red mark was visible on the top of his palm and fingers. Omega quickly swiped away the remnants of the cigarette.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Omega yelled in his face. His grip was tight on his wrist, his other hand grabbing his shoulder, shaking him once.

Terzo stared at him. A whimper. His cock twitched once, twice. Omega sensed it in him. Arousal. Hot and fast. His breath caught, and he came.

Omega looked down in shock, and when he looked up again, Terzo was crying inconsolably.

“You— you— see— mostri—” he heaved, almost incomprehensible.

“Stop it, just stop it.” Omega pulled him into a tight embrace, his walls broken down. Terzo needed him. He may have been a pain in the ass, an egotistical maniac, but he was broken inside. He needed someone to show him compassion. Anyone.

And it should have been Omega all along.

“I don’t want you to be in pain. I don’t.”

Terzo buried his head in his shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around him. His sobs practically shook the bed. Omega ran his fingers through his hair, his claws scratching his scalp gently, the other hand rubbing his back.

He finally settled down, but it took a long time and many tears. At some point, Omega had laid him down on his side, but he refused to let go of the ghoul, so they were stuck intertwined. When Omega sensed he had finally fallen asleep, he detangled them to stand.

First was the matter of the ashes, which he did his best to swipe off the bed. Then, he carefully cleaned Terzo’s skin of his earlier excitement, but it had unfortunately long settled into the fabric of Omega’s shirt. He stripped his shirt off and, along with Terzo’s clothes, put it in the laundry bag in the closet and set it outside their room to be cleaned. He also picked up the box of spilled tacos and set it on the table.

Omega lay back in bed, and Terzo found him in an instant, attaching himself to him like a leech. His face settled against his hairy chest, and Omega found it in him to, for the first time in a long time, smile.

He quickly wiped it away.

[parts:] one | previous | next

buy me a kofi <3

[queer-and-nerdy]

all 4 feet 9 inches of terzo saw omega “Mega Man” ghoul and decided “that’s the one i want” and you know what good for them love is love

[sak-supernatural]

There is something unhinged about writing your horny, smut, self-insert, threesome Ghost fanfiction on holiday at your grandparents house.

[theoneandonlynikki]

I literally don't care how bad you think someone's take is, harassing them into privating their account is fucking disgusting. Get help.

[tg-headcanons]

(The target audience is just me but-) Tokyo ghoul characters as official notes about the dogs at my workplace

Kaneki: will not eat unless fed by hand. Eats only wet food. Good luck

Seidou: does not understand how small and easy to step on he is

Hide: injured from wagging tail too hard

Shuu: Socially idiotic

Yoshimura: Old. I don’t know how she’s still alive

Akira: will herd other dogs and also you

Juuzou: Meat farm rescue

Nishiki: HATES MEN

Furuta: hates women

Houji: can only be in groups with females. Gay and unmanageable

Rize: goes out of his way to bite men

Naki: cries constantly

Urie: can climb all fences and wants to leave

Uta: no longer welcome here

[gothra]

I don't think I've ever been in a position where I've been close enough to a certain creator/batch of creators where I can examine mid-sized to large-scale drama, with relatively low stakes, but I am now, which is exciting because everyone is using the buzzword I have a strong love/hate relationship with: parasocial. Almost everyone has a parasocial relationship, except maybe babies or people who don't ever engage with media or people who know exactly what PRs they are and exactly how to avoid them. They aren't inherently bad or necessarily unhealthy. That feeling of disappointment you get when someone you saw value in as a creator or a mentor does something bad or makes a mistake is not proof that your parasocial relationship has run amok or gone too far, that is proof that you are a human being who has been hurt by people that you care about, the same way you would feel if it was a person you knew in your everyday life. It's fine to feel sad, disappointed, and frustrated when someone has done something to make you feel that way even when that person is an internet person. If your sadness has turned into grief and you find it difficult to cope in your daily life because of something that an internet person has done, that's a different story and it would serve you well to examine the connections you have with people.

And if you're angry to the point of racism, you are just being racist and that has little to do with this.

[ashthewaterghoul]

The Heaviest Burden – A Swiss Ghoul One Shot

    Swiss had lived quite an unfortunate life before his equally unfortunate times in the Ministry. But, of course, in the pits, he wasn’t called Swiss. His mother gave him the name Gravissonus – the heaviest burden. Or, my hc for Swiss' life in the pits, post-summoning and leading up to the most recent change in the Ghoul line-up.

Words: 5.4k

CWs/Tags (bc they are basically the same thing here): Backstory, Swiss needs a hug, and therapy, toxic/abusive family, physical punshiment, self-harm, substance issues, toxic behaviours (bc Swiss doesn't know how to deal with his emotions), suicide attempts, and using your body/sexual favours as payment. All are sort of references/mentions but they’re definitely there and definitely happen.

A/n: I'm just going to apologise now... :D

    Gravissonus was a little all-element Multi which in itself is quite a rarity. Both from all-element Multis being very dangerous pregnancies that often ended in disaster, but also been as Multis that couple with single element Ghouls mostly produce off-spring of that single element. So, when Gravissonus’ Fire Ghoul mother started an affair with an all-element Multi, she had every arrogant confidence that any results would easily be covered by her Fire element. But, Gravissonus made his entrance with all his elements and his now-step-father, also a pure Fire Ghoul, knew what his mate had been getting up to.

    Gravissonus looked nearly like any other Fire kit when he was born – just like his older siblings. It was the ever-so-slight green tinge to his claws, a faint star or two in his horns, his golden eyes, the crackle of Quintessence that came with his birth, his thicker hair and darker skin that gave him away as not one of his line.

    He was the only Multi he knew, and he was never told of his birth father. All he was told was that he was a filthy cross-breed like Gravissonus. He was never educated on a Multi’s traditions, nor was he included in the Fire traditions of his family. He wasn’t allowed in the nest with his parents or siblings and wasn’t allowed anything but the scraps of food leftover after his family had their fills.

    And when he was just four-years-old, and his mother’s belly swelled once more, he was allowed nowhere near the little Ghoulette that grew inside. The fall of his parents’ mateship was blamed on him, and the kit they made to try and bring their joy back couldn’t see any risk from being tainted by an insignificant shit stain such as Gravissonus.

Read below the cut or on ao3

    Anala, her name was. She was presented before the family as they built pyres for her, scented her relentlessly to cover up that newborn smell, and was given a birth amulet engraved with her family’s heritage and protection wards to carry her through life. Gravissonus may not be able to remember that far back in his own life, but his family constantly reminded him that he never had those rites as he wasn’t worthy – not with all the trouble he brought with his mere existence.

    One time, when everyone was asleep, he crawled over to little Anala and looked at the amulet tied to her leather-hide blanket. Even as the tiny kit he was, he wasn’t surprised to not see his name on the stone.

    There was a time when he was five-years-old and he was woken in the night by Anala crying her tiny lungs out and everyone else fast asleep in the shared nest around her. Gravissonus was always told to stay away, to not even look at her, but his tiny heart hated the sound of his sweet, innocent sister crying. He toddled over from his tiny nest - apart from that of his family’s - and shushed the little Ghoulette. He didn’t hold her as he knew he could drop her. Rather, he traced two small fingers from her forehead down to the tip of her nose, flowing some calming Quintessence and singing the nonsense lullabies he’d made up to soothe himself through the nights. She calmed, and he went back to sleep.

    In the morning, he was rudely awoken by his older brother kicking his nest apart with him in it. When he startled and scurried out of the wrecked pile of off-cuts of hides and moss, he was screamed at by his parents. They could smell the Quintessence on her, and knew it was him that soothed her.

    “You know you are to have nothing to do with her!”

    “How dare you use that filthy, tainted magic!”

    “You’re so useless, it’s pathetic!”

    “You really do ruin everything! She’s crying again now!”

    When little Gravissonus tried to say it was the shouting making her cry, his head felt like it was about to come clean from his shoulders with the smack he received. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t already used to, but this one hurt more both physically and mentally. Physically, from the intensity and literal heat of the hand. Mentally, because he just wanted to help, and he did! She calmed so quickly.

    He cried for hours after that, trying to use what little he had in the way of an Air and Water affinity to cool his cheek down. In the reflection of the lake he ran to, he could see the handprint that stayed there for days after.

    All his family had matching red amulets tied to their loincloths, in keeping with Fire Ghoul tradition and carved into triangles to match the symbol for their element. But as he was constantly reminded, Gravissonus wasn’t a real Fire Ghoul. He, and his siblings, were also constantly reminded to not go near a certain cave, just under half a day’s walk from their homestead. They were all told that Hellbeasts nested there and so they shouldn’t go. But even as a seven-year-old, Gravissonus called bullshit because he was sure that he would be put at the mouth of it as an offering if that was the case.

    One day, after yet another argument with his parents, he walked off to literally and metaphorically cool down. He didn’t even realise he was at that cave until he was at the opening to it. His golden eyes glowed for light as he went in, drawn by some odd instinct, and he couldn’t scent a single living thing. Just mould and mildew and damp like any old cave. As he ventured deeper, something almost felt comforting to him being there. Gravissonus doesn’t remember ever feeling such an emotion until that moment. When he reached the end of the small cave, he found a very tattered makeshift nest. Patting around it for anything he could take for his own makeshift nest, he found an amulet.

    Except this one wasn’t red, like Fire Ghouls’; it was triangular but it was swirled through with every colour of the elements. Red, purple, green, white and blue lay underneath engravings of a family line and numerous protection wards. Gravissonus read the names on there, they mostly seemed to be the names of Fire Ghouls with a few other elements here and there. His little mind liked the very small chance that this could have been where his mother met with his true Sire, and this was that Ghoul’s birth amulet that perhaps fell off his loincloth – and all-element Multi with his main element being Fire, just like Gravissonus.

    Gravissonus clung to that belief just as he did the amulet itself. Every night he clutched it to his chest, and in his prayers to their Dark Lord, he prayed that his Sire would come back to find his amulet, that he would come and find him. Gravissonus could finally know another Multi – his own Sire - and he could be saved from his family.

    But, Gravissonus wouldn’t find his saviour for a long while yet.

    More mental torture, abuse and maltreatment from his family came for the next several years. His older siblings coached Anala into the same cruelty as the rest of them although she didn’t understand why. She was blindly following a hatred she didn’t understand at the instruction of the older siblings meant to protect her while Mother and Father hunted.

    She would half-heartedly join in on the name-calling, and isolation – thoughtlessly following her family’s example. The physical side of things she never got too involved with. Maybe a smack every now and then but she never really wanted to hit her older brother. Often she was held back from the brawls and fights anyway been as she was so small, her claws not even fully grown in and sharpened yet.

    Whenever Gravissonus would take off from his family, having to hide his tears that came practically every day, Anala would follow. She’d ask where he was going, why he was sad, why he never did anything with the family. He knew that if he ever said a word to her or crouched to her eye-level to explain then they’d both be in for it, and he could never do that to such a bright and innocent soul.

    In his prayers for his saviour, he started to pray that she would never become as toxic and rotten as the rest of their family. She was born to try and fix everything but his parents were too consumed by hate and malice by then. They simply existed and lived in spite of the family’s shame-bringer. Gravissonus considered it a miracle that she wasn’t poisoned in the womb by the hostile aura of their mother and the acrid nature of their father.

    Gravissonus had his spot in the nearby woods he would go to when he needed away from his family. He’d long scorched it with the emotions he would contain and then let explode. But it was his “cool-down” spot, so to speak. She followed him there once, succeeding yet another argument with his family (he dared to help fan the flames of a campfire that was about to die while no one was looking). Sobbing in his burnt woods, the amulet clutched to his chest as he rocked himself, he begged Satan, and every demon that forged his elements to let him be free of it all.

    He barely registered the tiny little arms that wrapped around his neck and started singing the same nonsense-lullabies he had wrote for himself. When he realised she was there, he immediately backed out of her hold, scooting backwards from her.

    “Anala, no. You can’t be near me.” He said, fear in his voice for them both.

    “Why?” The little Ghoulette said with a tilt of her head, “You’re my family too. You’re sad.”

    “You know I’m not a true part to this family. We don’t share the same Sire. You need to go before you get in trouble because of me.” He pleaded with those round eyes.

    “But you are my brother.” She said, taking a step forward and reaching a small hand to cup Gravissonus’ cheek. He almost melted into his little sister’s touch, not remembering ever being touched in anything even remotely close to cared-for. He soon caught himself though and backed away again, standing this time so she couldn’t reach him.

    “Anala, we can’t be together. You need to leave.” He looked back through the tree and could already see Mother starting to look and call for her, “See? Your Mama is calling for you. Go!” He hated to be stern to her, but he needed to keep her safe. If he could be useful for one thing, it should be that.

    “Not without you.” She said with a smile. Clearly all nine years of her life had gone into being a little shit in the cutest way possible.

    “You don’t understand.” He said, kneeling down and looking into those fiery red eyes, “All that shouting and hitting they do to me? They’ll do it to you if they know you’re with me and fuck knows what I’ll get, so you need to go, Anala. Now.” He stood again and started directing her back out to the tree line. Every sibling had been subject to their parents’ physicality, and there was no reason to suspect Anala was immune.

    She fought him, that bright spark of fire in her proving powerful, but he was stronger. As soon as she was far out enough, he ran back to his clearing and grew bushes and brambles and thorns in the way so she couldn’t come back through.

    Turns out she very much tried. When he returned from the clearing he could see the scrapes on her arms from the thorns and brambles, alongside a hot red-mark on her face from a smack. His heart broke at that. His nose almost broke too from the punch he got from his mother’s mate.

    Gravissonus doesn’t remember what exactly was said to him. He’d been called useless and berated for ruining everything so many times over the years that all the repeated and tired insults just blurred into one. What he does remember was fixing his own nose with his Quintessence, being forbade to help heal Anala’s cuts, and asked one simple question.

    “You can hunt and forage for yourself, yes?” His step-father asked.

    “Yes, sir.” He answered, not meeting his eyes as he’d never been allowed to do that.

    “Good.” His mother said, “Then you have no reason to take up room in this family any longer.”

    And just like that Gravissonus had been kicked out from his family, if he was even a part of it to begin with.

    It was a moment he’d practically waited for all 14 years of his life up until that point. Been as he owned nothing but that amulet – kept tied to the inside of his loincloths to keep it hidden and safe - he nodded and walked away. He felt his siblings kicking up dirt and rocks after him, could sense his parents’ smug sneers at finally getting rid of him, and he heard Anala begging for him to stay or for her to go with him.

    He kept walking though. He walked until the sun went down and he foraged for his dinner. He was a twiggy little thing, always scraping the bottom of the pan for food. So when he only found a few berries, and a few mushrooms that were mostly okay he sat down to eat them, happy he could eat them all without them being snatched.

    He was younger than most Ghouls are when they leave their families and clans, but Gravissonus was okay for a time, for the first few years in fact. Happy to not be berated for breathing every day and happy to not dread what he’d be blamed for next. He was blamed for being born rather than his mother being blamed for cheating. He was blamed when a hunt he had no part in failed. He once got the blame for his older brother’s mating proposal being rejected, so nothing was off the table in that respect.

    What he absolutely could blame himself for though, was the lifestyle he fell into.

    Multis were shunned and pushed away enough for not being a single element, so many clans didn’t want them. Lots of Ghouls, like Gravissonus’ family, were obsessed with element purity. They had been pure Fire Ghouls for centuries before he came along to ruin it, and with every other element at that.

    Multis had a reputation for being the most sexual of Ghouls – even more than the flirty and alluring Water Ghouls that reproduced like ecological terrorism was the most casual pastime imaginable. That reputation, though, comes from them having no other choice…

    Gravissonus fashioned a lute from a tree and paid a luthier for strings with his body. He’d go near clans and offer performances that would end with paying for his company as well his voice. He’d spend a few days crossing over a mountain range and he’d let the Earth Ghouls take what they needed to bless the passage. He’d please the insatiable Water Ghouls in exchange for fresh drinking water, or beg knowledge from Quints for the price of their pleasure.

    He was rather thankful to have lost his virginity before having to resort to this. At least he now knew what his knot was and that it inflating didn’t mean his dick was about to burst from the inside out. He wasn’t exactly given sex-ed before laying with his first Ghoulette…

    Some encounters he did genuinely enjoy and was treated well, but ultimately there was no pretence of emotion. It was all a business transaction, at the end of the day.

    He did what he had to do to survive, and he did what he had to do to cope too. His less-than-stellar education in foraging had led to a few accidental trips on mushrooms he didn’t know had that effect. Now though he knew. And he picked them on purpose. He’d also pay for the fermented fruit wines that seemed to make everything feel a little lighter for a few hours too.

    There was the mental effect of his lowly life as well, of course. It wasn’t like he had a support system to help work through the abuse from his family, or the false pretence of being okay with his existence now. On those days he’d feel so numb, he made himself feel something. At least the scars made it look like he’d fought against something - other than himself - and won. Especially the claw marks across his chest.

    But he survived. That was the main thing.

    One day, as he was preparing to barter with some Quints for knowledge of an upcoming Winter (or, as close as you can get to such a season in Hell) he felt a dull ache in his chest. He doubled over in a howl as that ache turned into a throbbing and searing pain that tugged at what felt like his very soul, and slowly branched out to every molecule of his being. In his fear, believing death was practically imminent, he clutched that amulet close to his chest, leaving everything else behind as he was unknowingly summoned.

    After nearly a decade of being by himself, he opened his eyes to a dark stone chamber, filled with…

    Well, they weren’t Ghouls, Gravissonus could scent and see as much. They were… pale, and didn’t have horns or claws or a tail and the one in front of him had one white eye and one green.

    It was explained that he was summoned to Earth. He would live alongside a few other Ghouls, but mostly humans in this Abbey that worshipped Satan. He would help with spreading His message, and he would be given safety and security and be nurtured.

   As soon as he figured out that part of the summoning included the Gift of Tongues, and he could instantly speak this English of the humans, he begged the one in front of him for a new name. Then he could start over for good, truly leaving everything else behind.

    The human brought something from his pocket and handed it to him, pressing it to his palm.

    “It is a multi-tool, known as a Swiss Army knife. I believe you will be just as, if not more useful than it. I’d give you the name Swiss, if you’ll have it.”

    He nodded. Swiss nodded.

    Any name that wasn’t his birth name was acceptable and preferred as far he was concerned.

    Slowly, Swiss said goodbye to his old life and replaced it with his new one. He ate more than he ever had in one go, laid in a real nest made of plush blankets that laid atop a soft mattress, and he was shown kindness by the Ghouls that were now his pack. He soon learned too that his body wasn’t expected to be payment for every little thing he needed…

    But that didn’t stop his kind’s reputation from following him.

    He knew he acted fairly provocatively but that was on purpose. What wasn’t purposeful was how it got out of hand, and quickly.

    Swiss would only go to the Siblings for some carnal company once or twice a week, if that. Even then it was only those he was genuinely attracted to and had already spent some time getting to know and flirt with. He enjoyed that attention - the whispers and looks he’d get from the vast majority he’d yet to learn the names of, the propositions that he’d turn down or promise for another time. It was refreshing to have control over it like that.

    He went on tour and acted… less-than-savoury in front of the crowds. When he got back, suddenly he wasn’t this urban legend who you were extremely lucky to be known by. He soon turned into a commodity, a given, something to be passed around and used. It was like sleeping with him was the unofficial last step to a Sibling’s initiation and for some reason, he just couldn’t say no.

    Many of the humans thought they were entitled to him and his body, slipping invites for hook-ups and orgies into his pockets or fully dragging him into empty rooms and cupboards for quickies. His carefully crafted front made it look like he enjoyed it all, loved the attention still but truthfully, he hated everything about it.

    His skin never felt clean enough. He barely felt like a living Ghoul anymore. He barely was sober anymore.

    Turns out, humans also have some great and easily accessible ways to get intoxicated. He drank and/or got high more days than not, and he vaped nearly every chance he got.

    It was like the pits, except so much worse. At least back there, he could get something other than self-loathing from his encounters. Up here? He got nothing and it was all his fault. The other Ghouls just stayed to their packs, so why couldn’t he do the same? Why couldn’t he say no?

    Later on, he would figure out that being treated like dirt and kicked out of his family left such a scar that he pushes aside his own sanctity to make sure he’s accepted, and keep his place topside and not incur the wrath of the Clergy.

    After the Prequelle tours ended, Copia now Papa and Swiss having likely slept with just about everyone in the Abbey that had an attraction to him, he spiralled. He would never escape his own hatred and stupidity. Topside was meant to be his break, his fresh start, and he fucked it up.

    His parents were right. He does ruin everything.

    He was a worthless little shit-stain to the universe and he could truly never be happy. Even within his pack, his permanent low mood and inebriation was causing rifts. His refusal for help, snapping at them to leave him alone. He’s heard Rain crying about it, Dew’s harsh but albeit cleverly crafted insults, he’s felt Aether doling out Quintessence to keep everyone calm and Cumulus helping everyone feel comforted too.

    He already had a wide collection of scars across his arms and chest and legs but adding to them didn’t give the same relief as usual. One night, with new slashes on his chest, his legs and stomach, he ran into the forest. As he realised this is just what he did in Hell, it was another reminder of how he’d never truly escape.

    His feet smacked against the ground so hard and fast that he was surprised he didn’t manage to take off. Exhaustion caught up to him when his legs turned to jelly, collapsing into a heap in a clearing as he sobbed at how hopeless it all was. In that moment, he really found no light to keep living for…

    Mountain had an insane relation to the forest. He could sense everything that happened within it, and so when he felt such a distressed soul running in, he followed. His instincts also told him it was a fellow Ghoul. He got there in no time flat and would never forget the sight of Swiss lying there with his own claws in his chest.

    “NO!” Mountain cried over and over again as he ran over. The Multi was still breathing and still had a heartbeat but his fingers were flexing, trying to reach and dig for the organ that kept him going as blood poured from the wounds.

    Mountain didn’t know how to help. He’d scented blood from Swiss’ self-harm before through their shared bedroom wall and he knew how to help that but this was something entirely apart. So the giant gathered Swiss into his arms and ran as fast as he could to the infirmary.

    Swiss blacked out part way there, barely conscious anyway from the moment his claws started piercing his skin. He woke up in the infirmary, Mountain at his bedside and holding his hand as he whispered prayers for the Multi. Swiss twitched a little and whined when he realised that he was in soft restraints so he couldn’t hurt himself again.

    When Aether came in, the Multi swore them both to secrecy. He would not let anyone else know about his inner torture. He refused Aether’s offer for help, and wouldn’t tell them why he tried what he did or why he would claw himself so much to leave all those scars on his body too.

    The two begrudgingly agreed.

    When Swiss was released from the infirmary, he finally looked in the mirror at his chest. Among the self-inflicted slashes across his pecs, there now lay 5 scars in little dots from where his claws tried to rip out his own heart.

    Aether and Mountain both were very vigilant with subtly checking for any new marks, so Swiss would hurt himself with sex – letting the physical hurt of feral sex, or the numbness after free-use scenes, or just the overall mental pain of being passed around the Siblings like a blunt – be where he got what he wanted. He’d have some nights he’d drink and smoke himself to fitful sleeps that would end in someone else’s bed because then at least he could dissociate and fall away from the world.

    It was all a viscous cycle that never ended and Swiss positively hated himself.

    He saw a small reprieve when Sunshine was summoned. And she was the first other Multi he’d ever met in his lonely existence.

    He spent a short-while just with her, helping her adjust to life topside and the both of them happy to be with another of their kind. Sunshine wasn’t of all elements like Swiss, rather she was Fire-Earth-Air aligned, but neither cared. They were both still Multis, and Swiss felt the irony suffocating him whenever he told her that she didn’t have to use her body anymore to get by, and she could choose whoever she wanted to be with.

    Tours were his reprieve. He could get away from the Siblings and Clergy that always wanted his body and was forced to not smoke so much thanks to long trips on the buses. It was just rude and besides that, it would trigger Cumulus’ asthma.

    He felt like himself when just surrounded by his pack and no expectations to always be fucking them at every turn – that’s just what they all liked anyway, but it was different with them because Swiss actually wanted it and enjoyed it every time. Also, they all caught on to how sometimes Swiss pushes himself for the sake of others, so if they suspected that was happening, they’d make it seem like they fell out of the mood instead, and Swiss could never hide the little flicker of relief he would feel in those situations.

    They got back from tour and all the Siblings that had survived for weeks without him would throw themselves back at him.

    During lockdown, when Swiss truly had no escape, he tried taking his life again. This time he was in his nest, and he’d used his time with the Siblings to scrounge together every drug he could. He took it all, drank and smoked as much as he could and waited for the overdose to take him.

    It was Aether that found him that time – asking for the Multi’s bag of guitar picks been as his had been misplaced. When he got no answer from Swiss, he pushed into the room and nearly passed out from shock of Swiss on the bed, and on the verge of death. Mountain was closest to help Aether carry Swiss down to the infirmary so he could get his stomach pumped out and see some help for the recent self-inflicted damages. Again, Swiss woke up to them both praying this time, and again he made them promise not to tell a soul.

    The Earth and Quint were both hoping that by in fact keeping this secret, Swiss would trust them and would eventually open up to them about what demons were lurking inside.

    Mountain had slightly more insight. He would sometimes overhear Swiss crying in the dead of night when he thought no one else was awake, or he’d make “jokes” that seemed a little bit too real when they would get high together. The Earth Ghoul knew that Swiss had a lot of insecurity that he’d hide under his cocky façade. He knew Swiss was very insecure specifically about not finding someone to love him.

     The pack was open with each other, as was typical for Ghouls. But Dew and Aether were on the road to mating for sure, Mountain and Rain were sappy as hell and usually always together so it was only a matter of time for them too, the girls were all enraptured with each other, and so where did that leave Swiss? Well, the arms of hundreds of Siblings, of course. Trying to fill a void that was living on a phantom hope of being filled.

    Mountain would try to pry at the surface but Swiss’ walls were so high that he couldn’t ever climb high enough to peak the tip of his antlers over the top.

    Soon, the whole pack felt as if their Multi was falling away for good this time. Aether and Mountain often shared glances that worried everyone but couldn’t ever get them to break confidentiality with the Multi. His golden eyes were so dull and bloodshot every time they saw him and the smell of sweat and sex clung to him so heavily that they could barely remember what Swiss’ natural scent was like.

    Every time they tried to reach out, they were turned away and yelled at. They would be told not to bother because they never had before; they don’t understand anything; that they just need to leave him be.

    Mountain felt his heart drop to his stomach one night when Cirrus came to him. She often liked to fly at night, when her raven wings would blend into the night sky and she could hunt like she did in the pits. But she told him that when she went up to the roof, she saw Swiss sitting on the edge and he looked… contemplative.

    Swiss was indeed thinking about it. Everything was so hopeless once again so he went where he, foolishly, thought no one would find him. He rolled that Swiss army knife Copia gave him in his first moments on Earth and wondered if the human knew how cataclysmically wrong he was when he gave the tool to him and gave him his name. He tried to play it off like he was just having a sleepless night when he felt the Air Ghoulette’s hand run across his shoulders as she sat down next to him. Swiss has no clue if he was successful with his lie but he knows that Cirrus didn’t fly as far away as she usually did on that night.

     The only reason he didn’t throw himself down before being found was because something was churning in his stomach to stay. A tiny flicker of hope that he can’t remember ever feeling before. Not when he found that amulet that he still has hidden in his belongings, not when he was freed from his family, and not even when he was summoned.

    It was a few days later that Copia announced there would be two new summonings. But that tiny ember of hope he felt fanned a little brighter and he almost felt giddy at the warm sensation for the first time in, likely, his entire life. He didn’t understand why it felt like this when just days ago he was ready to fling himself from the top of the Abbey. But he felt like this now with just the mention of these summonings.

    Something urged Swiss he should stick around for that. His prayers to be free from his family had long been answered. Maybe it was the time for his prayers for his saviour to be answered too…

One shot master post can be found here