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hassedah · 5 months ago

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hiii! I was wondering if you could write about the boys with a reader that's really into tabletop rpg games? like d&d, cthulhu, ordem paranormal, etc. which of them would be down to play, who'd try to be a game master, which characters they'd enjoy playing

MC is a rpg games player :

Hi! How are you? I hope you are well! ^^

Here's the headcanons you requested! I hope you enjoy it! ^^

Take care of yourself and have a nice day! ^^

Vladimir :

Vladimir had never heard of this type of game before you told him about it. Well, Ivan and Ethan had talked about it before, but he'd never really listened. He regrets this a little because he would have liked to have been able to follow the discussion with you.

He's a bit surprised when you tell him that some people think that JDR makes you violent or Satanist. It's literally an interactive story, he would have loved to have been able to play this kind of thing when he was alive, even if he would have been looking for love stories, the idea of reading/playing a story that could enable him to win the heart of a character seems really fun to him (you'll have to tell him about otome games).

Vladimir has no idea how to create a character. There are so many things to choose from and set up, and he often gets the characteristics mixed up. So he always asks for your help to create his character and his characteristics.

He'll bombard you with questions during the first few games, especially about the rules of the game, which he sometimes finds very hard to understand. What does it mean that he has 1 HP left? What do you mean, he can use his HP to cast a spell because he has no MP left? What do you mean he doesn't have enough Strength points? What is a critical failure? Why can't he discuss the situation with Aaron next to him? All right, Aaron in the game is in another room, but he can have a chat with him as he's next to him! What's an NPC? It can't be a non-playable character because the GM is playing it! MC please find a language he understands and don't get upset, he's really trying to play with you and understand what's going on.

His character's alignment is always the same, he's a loyal good. He never changes alignment and is incapable of playing a evil or even worse a chaotic character. He often plays a sort of prince or aristocrat, (this at least helps to explain the fact that his character is almost completely incapable of fending for himself), he's not very strong, nor very good at fighting, but he always has plenty of money on him and points of charisma or authority, at least enough to get out of difficult situations without constantly having to call his housemates for help (although this happens quite often).

He doesn't know the rules well enough to be the GM and he only plays the RPG if you play it, whether you play as the GM or as a character. When he plays, his character always gets on pretty well with Raphaël's or Aaron's character.

Béliath :

He's already heard of this kind of game, either at Moondance or from Ethan and Ivan. He's not really interested in it though, but that changes when you talk to him about it. He likes to be interested in what you like, so of course when you told him you often play RPGs, he wanted to know exactly what they were and how they were played. However, there are so many different RPGs out there and so many different ways of playing, he feels a bit lost. What do you mean there's even a RPG where you're cats?

He really enjoys pairing up his character with yours at the start of the game, or winning your character's heart before the end of the game. If that's not possible… he'll fall back on Ethan, Vladimir, Raphaël, Aaron or Ivan, listen his character has to end up in a relationship with someone even an NPC would suit him. Sure, it's an adventure game, but who says you can't hit on people while saving the world? Raphaël always agrees to put his character in a relationship with hers, the only problem is that they always end up having arguments in the middle of battles.

Unlike Vladimir, he often changes the alignment of his characters, although he has a preference for the chaotic good, which he finds much easier to play than the Loyal good (he also doesn't understand what's so funny about this character, why do you want to respect the law so much? It's boring!)

Béliath is always creating vampires (yes, even a vampire cat if he has to, he has to be a vampire), as cliché as possible. He can't help it, it makes him laugh. He loves the irony of being a vampire playing a vampire.

He's a pretty good actor, so he really loves playing his character, talking to him about live action role-playing games, and he'll insist on playing one as soon as possible.

He's not a very good GM and he's not very interested in taking on the role. He gets bored quickly every time he's the GM and he's not authoritative enough with him - the slightest decision between the players can take several hours, he doesn't want to rush them and he enjoys watching his housemates squabble over details.

Ivan :

He was delighted when he realised that you played RPG. He used to play it quite regularly when he was still human, and it's been a long time since he met someone to play with. Of course, there was Ethan at the mansion, but they spend all their time arguing as soon as they start a game together. Because of this, Aaron comes to tell them off and forbids them to play. After learning that you like to play this kind of game, he quickly invites you to play a game with him.

More than just acting, he loves creating characters. He has dozens and dozens of them, his characters have different alignments, they're vampires, werewolves, ghosts, sometimes humans, they have different jobs and different skills. He has written the story of each of them in great detail, and he won't hesitate to tell you about it if you ask him. However, his favourite character is a necromancer who pretends to be a simple bard, and he often uses him in his games.

He has a clear preference for fantasy and medieval RPGs.

If you're not the GM, he'll always try to at least be friends with your character. He might even suggest that you create a character duo with a shared story for the times when you play together.

Despite his many arguments with Ethan (he can't get along with him. He tries, he really does, but for every action they take they have different opinions), he's a good player, he listens to other people's opinions, often suggests ideas and has a very good knowledge of the game's mechanics, which makes him very effective when he's playing with Vladimir, who systematically doesn't understand a thing that's going on: Their in-game relationship could be summed up as "Don't try to understand, I'll explain it to you later".

Despite his many arguments with Ethan, he has already sacrificed several of his characters to save Ethan's.

He could be a good GM but he lacks authority. Nobody listens to him in the manor, everyone ignores his instructions, or even listens to what he has the NPC say, only to complain that he didn't give the right instructions. It gets worse when the players start arguing, at which point he knows it's a waste of time and he won't be able to do anything to restore calm. In the end, he hates being the GM because of this.

Aaron :

He only knows the RPG because he's already played with Ethan and Ivan, and at first he played mainly to stop them fighting, but now he also plays because he likes the game. So he doesn't really need much explanation from you (unless you have a miracle solution to stop Ivan and Ethan arguing during a game, at which point he'll take any solution). If you offer to play a game with him, he'll accept straight away.

Despite Ethan and Ivan's arguments, it's a game he enjoys. He loves the fact that the decisions he makes with the rest of the players have an impact on the story and he loves the discussion phases where he debates with the others about the next thing to do. Aaron is one of the most serious players, he tries to make the story progress in a coherent way, tell him to escort this or that NPC from point A to point B and everything will be fine, the NPC will be escorted and he'll do everything he can to protect him as best he can from the stupid ideas of his housemates, he refuses all side quests as long as they don't have a direct link with the main story and has the protection of his team at heart.

He has a preference for horror stories, so it doesn't matter whether they're set in a medieval or science-fiction world - all that matters to him is that you get to fight ghosts, demons and other supernatural creatures, or hunt down a serial killer.

Aaron plays two different types of character. Either his character is an invincible brute and a powerful fighter who protects the rest of the team by regularly acting as a human shield. Or his character is a healer when Raphaël refuses to be one. He knows that his character isn't the most resilient and that he has to rely on the other members of the team to protect him, but he tends to forget that, and the result is that he's often kidnapped, killed or taken hostage (which always delights Vladimir in these cases, because for once he's not the one who needs rescuing).

When his character is a brute, he has a very bad habit of breaking anything that causes him problems. A door? He breaks it down. A wall? He smashes the wall. A complex mechanism? Break it. A complex puzzle where you have to think long and hard for fear of making a mistake that will kill you all? He breaks everything! His character is a tough guy, with a big heart but who thinks very little, and he'll play him to the hilt without hesitation.

He's a good GM, he knows how to get people to listen to him and more often than not manages to stop the players fighting or arguing (well, except for Ethan and Ivan). He also knows the rules pretty well, he's able to guide the players when they're lost without giving them the solution and, above all, Aaron knows how to tell stories. It's very easy to be captivated by what he's telling and to be totally immersed in the game, although this can be a problem when the story is a horror story.

Raphaël :

He knows it by name, because he often hears Ethan and Ivan talk about it, but he clearly doesn't know what it is or what to do about it. The first time you talk to him about it, Raphaël pays attention. He thinks this kind of game might appeal to him - after all, he loves stories, so the idea of being able to move a story forward through the actions and decisions he takes seems excellent. He quickly agrees to play with you.

These characters are usually blind like him. Whichever character he plays, he will be friends with the character of Vladimir, and even for a game the idea of betraying Vladimir pains him. He often plays good characters and more often good chaotic characters than good loyal or good neutral characters. He also mostly plays healers, as he likes to protect and be protected by his team-mates.

If it's Vladimir, magnificent! The main quest won't be forgotten in favour of the couple's story and they'll just be a cute couple until the end of the game, but if it's Beliath, well… we can only hope that the main quest wasn't that important for the survival of the world, because it's likely to be quickly ignored because of the couple fights they'll start.

Whatever happens, he doesn't really follow the story. Raphaël accepts every side quest he comes across, from a grandmother asking you to retrieve her cat stuck in a tree to the old mayor asking you to defeat the manticore attacking the inhabitants of his village. This greatly annoys the other players, who can't follow the main story without being interrupted by Raphaël, who is absolutely determined to help the widow and the orphan. His character is often forcibly taken away by the others to continue the main story, despite his loud protests and complaints.

He's been collecting dice ever since you taught him to play RPG, and has over a hundred in a box that he hides under his bed. They come in all shapes, sizes and colours. He loves taking them out of the box to play with them or to show them to you.

He's not a good GM, but he manages to deal with conflict and tells the story well - that's not the problem. The problem is that he talks too much, he gives a lot of detail, often unnecessary detail, he comments on the NPCs' clothes, the decoration of the rooms, the sounds of the place, the whole life of the NPCs. Just wanted to ask the peasant for some information? You'll know everything about his life from birth. It would be fun if it was just one character, but it's all characters. What's more, he's too helpful to the players, you just have to ask him nicely for the solution and he'll give it, and he can't play a real villain, you can win every fight just by talking to your opponent. It drives Ethan completely mad.

Ethan :

Ethan has been playing RPG for years. He loves it, so he was really pleased when he found out you were playing. It's just that, since he's been living in the manor, he's had far less opportunity to play, well… he can play with Ivan, but if Aaron doesn't play with them it inevitably ends up in an argument. He's quick to offer you the chance to play with him, and even lets you choose the RPG you want, even though he has a preference for RPGs set in a science fiction world.

He creates a new character for each game and doesn't like taking on a character he's already played with. He very rarely plays a support role, preferring to be the team's thief or mage rather than the healer. It's not that he despises this role, he knows it's often essential to a team, but… he already spends his days healing his housemates in real life, so in the game he prefers not to have to worry about it. However, despite his best efforts to refrain from treating others, he finds it very hard to stop himself doing so, and always ends up shouting at Aaron or taking something out of his belongings to treat someone.

Ethan always chooses to create good chaotic characters, but he pretends to behave like a evil chaotic just to piss off his housemates. This works really well on Raphael, his character always ends up sulking his own.

When Ethan is one of the players, he tries to keep the others focused on the main quest. It's not easy, he feels obliged to keep an eye on everything Raphael does lest he accept a random quest from an NPC or tell too much about a secret mission, he stops Beliath from flirting with every NPC he meets (they've been chased out of several inns because of it), he stops Aaron from putting his character in danger and makes sure Vladimir doesn't get kidnapped while they're away from him. In fact, the only one he doesn't need to keep an eye on is Ivan, and it's all the more of a shame given that they're incapable of playing a game without arguing at some point.

Ethan is a pretty good GM, much to the astonishment of his housemates. Miraculously, he doesn't even disadvantage Ivan when he could have done so much to hurt his character as a GM.

Neil :

Neil had never heard of RPGs. The people they knew before they were locked in the cellar didn't play it and once they were out of the cellar they weren't in the frame of mind to find out about it. So this is the first time he's heard about it when you explain what it is and he's quite curious. He really likes the concept of a story that changes according to the decisions you make, and he's keen to try playing it with you. At least to try it out and see if he likes it.

All the characters he creates are powerful. He doesn't play a specific character alignment because the only thing he really wants is to either keep power over others or take power over others. His characters are always important people, a prince, a king or a nobleman. He has a strong preference for games involving coups d'état and power plays, whether the game is set in a science fiction, medieval or fantasy setting.

It's always complicated playing with him and other people. Neil wants to lead the troupe, he wants to be in charge and make decisions for everyone. It's difficult to get him to understand the principle of democracy and he often doesn't even have the patience to listen. More often than not that's his problem, he doesn't listen to the group's decisions and ends up endangering his character or his group in one way or another.

The only opinion he takes into account is yours, and even then he'll argue for several minutes to try to convince you that he's right. He is, however, capable of listening to you and following your advice once he has listened to your arguments and you have convinced him that you are right.

It's nice to play with him though, when he doesn't want to get the better of everyone. He gives good advice and often has good ideas.

He's not a good GM at all, he's overbearing and often unpleasant. He sighs and complains as soon as they think the players are making stupid decisions and he tends to make opponents much too strong for the players. It's not particularly pleasant to play with him as a GM.

Léandra :

Léandra likes to hang out in all the circles so she knows the JDR. She started playing it when she was just starting out and continued to do so when it was very fashionable. However, she lost interest little by little and it's been a long time since she's played it, she'd almost forgotten it existed, but the fact that you're talking to her about it brings back the memories. It's always been a lot of fun and she's quite keen to play with you. She'll look for gaming communities for you if you want.

She always creates different characters, but her characters are always chaotic, whether they're chaotic good, neutral, or Evil, she's incapable of playing a loyal character, she's tried from time to time but has never managed to keep it coherent.

She particularly likes creating wizards or demons, and she's looking to have fairly powerful characters, so she'll do everything in her power to become even more powerful over the course of the game. She also does a lot of Picrew to show what her character looks like.

She has a lot of fun getting her character to flirt with most of the NPC, and that's her main way of providing the team with information about the quest. She's a good player overall, always playing her character with conviction (which is what she prefers) and making decisions that suit her character. She also proposes interesting solutions to the problem and, above all, she knows how to listen to the suggestions of the rest of the team. This doesn't mean that she'll follow the majority opinion, even if she doesn't agree with it, but rather that she manages to change her mind when good arguments are put forward.

She's a good GM, even if the NPCs she plays tend to be a bit flirtatious. She manages to keep the players focused on the main quest and prevents most of the arguments. She also knows how to adjust the level of the enemies to the level of her players, which means that everyone can have a good time without dying at the first monster they face.

Farah :

Farah has already heard of the JDR, thanks in particular to some werewolves who were visiting the pack and playing it. She's even played a few games with them. She likes this type of game, even though she doesn't often get the chance to play it. When you tell her that you like playing RPGs, she's quite happy, especially if it means she can play a bit more often.

It's been a long time since she's played, so she may not remember all the rules very well. You don't need to explain everything to her again, though, and after a few questions she'll feel ready to play with you.

Most of the characters she creates are loyal good. She finds that much easier to play. Most often she plays a human and a paladin. On rare occasions, she also likes to play werewolves or elves, in which case she prefers to play druids or priests.

She's pretty serious, and her character sheets are always impeccable and precise. It has to be said that she has created very few characters, but they all have very well-developed histories.

She has a real preference for stories set in a medieval world, whether fantasy or entirely based on reality, although she will tend to quibble with historical facts if the story is based on reality. She wishes she didn't, but she can't help it, she knows when certain weapons were used and it always ruffles her feathers to see a rapier walking around in the early 11th century.

She likes it when the atmosphere in the team is good, so she always tries to encourage dialogue so that everyone can give their opinion, even if her habit of leading a pack sometimes makes her a little too authoritarian.

Farah is a very good GM, she knows how to tell stories very well which helps her a lot and as she's been managing her pack for years she also knows how to manage a team of players. She also always remembers all the players' character sheets very well.

#moonlight lovers #moonlight lovers vladimir #moonlight lovers béliath #moonlight lovers ivan #moonlight lovers aaron #moonlight lovers raphael #moonlight lovers ethan #moonlight lovers neil #moonlight lovers léandra #moonlight lovers farah

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melmordfjordslorn · 1 year ago

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@lovleycrowley

Phase One: Celebrity Take Down (1997–2002)

The story of Gorillaz begins on August 15th, 1997. Stu-Pot was a mentally deficient keyboard enthusiast and part-time employee at Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium. Satanist hoodlum Murdoc Niccals decided to ram-raid Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium to procure synthesizer equipment in order to establish a "chart-topping" musical group. However, Murdoc ended up driving his Vauxhall Astra through the building and directly into Stu-Pot's head, permanently damaging ("fracturing") Stu-Pot's left eye and putting him into a catatonic state. Murdoc was sentenced to "30,000 hours of community service, plus 10 hours every week of caring for the injured Stu-Pot". Not long after, Murdoc again injured Stu-Pot in a car accident in Nottingham's Tesco car park when attempting a 360° in order to impress some women. During the initial rotation, he was thrown through the windshield and landed face-first on a curb. This permanently damaged Stu-Pot's right eye but revived him from his coma. Impressed by Stu-Pot’s new look, Murdoc then recruited the newly recovered (albeit still mentally defective) Stu-Pot as the keyboardist and vocalist for his group, re-dubbing him 2-D for the matching pair of dents in his head from the accidents.

In September of 1997, Murdoc acquired the property of Kong Studios, a sprawling haunted studio with a rather shady history, situated atop a hill in the midst of a run-down cemetery and landfill in Districtshire, Essex.

Murdoc then found a drummer for the group in a Soho record store: African-American expatriate Russel Hobbs. Russel was a middle-class New York native and was deeply troubled as a youth. He was expelled from an expensive private school for suffering from demonic possession. The trauma of said possession resulted in a four-year coma from which Russel was roused only by an elaborately executed exorcism. After his recovery, Russel began attending Brooklyn High School, where he quickly cultivated friendships with a group of rappers, DJs, MCs, and street musicians. He has said that "hip-hop saved [his] soul."

This was a short-lived respite, however, as all of Russel's newfound friends were suddenly gunned-down one night in a drive-by shooting. Russel, the sole survivor, became the unwilling receptacle for the spirits of all of his slain compatriots, most notable of whom was the rhyme dropping blue phantom, Del. With their latent possession of his body, Russel gained incredible musical prowess in percussion, rap, and hip-hop as well as a disturbing side-effect: his eyes glowed an eerie white. With this new and violent turn of events, Russel's family shipped him off to England in hopes of helping him recover from his traumas quietly - not realizing they'd put him directly into the path of Murdoc's aspirations to superstardom, and the excesses that came along with it.

Russel met Murdoc in a Soho record store called, "Big Rick Black's Record Shack". When Murdoc asked for an obscure 50s record, he slipped a bag over Russel's head and took him to Kong Studios. Russel was impressed by the music Murdoc and 2D made and he chose to stay there.

At that point, all the fledgling group needed was a guitarist. Their first guitarist was 2-D's girlfriend, Paula Cracker, but she was shortly fired from the band after Russel caught her and Murdoc making love in the studio toilets. Disgusted by this, Russel broke Murdoc's nose five times (though Murdoc's nose was broken previous times before this). Like so many British bands before them, the trio placed an advertisement in NME. The very day the ad ran, a FedEx freight container from Japan was delivered to their doorstep and out jumped a mysterious amnesiac 7-year-old wielding a Gibson Les Paul. The tiny girl made an incomprehensible introduction in Japanese and tore into a "riff to end all riffs" which ended with an impressive karate kick to the air. She then bowed, and spoke a single word in English to the stunned boys, which became her moniker: "Noodle". After the band was finally assembled, they changed their name to Gorillaz. Their first song was called "Ghost Train" and was recorded at Kong Studios. Murdoc posted a copy of the song, some photos of the band and a manifesto over to Mr. Whiffy Smithy at EMI.

On November 5th, 1998, Gorillaz played their first show at the Camden Brownhouse which ended prematurely due to a riot during their song "Punk". EMI A&R man Whiffy Smiffy discharged several rounds from a shotgun to disperse the crowd enough to make his way to the stage and quickly signed them to the label. The following evening, Gorillaz attended their record label signing party. The band was gifted a seven foot cheque, and also met a long time collaborator, Damon Albarn. Damon would go on to be a influential part of the band, serving as a vocal coach for 2-D. However, Murdoc was and still is very jealous of Damon and frequently attempts to poison him and steal his demos.

In December 1998, the band began recording sessions for their debut album, spending the entirety of 1999 recording at Kong. After a years worth of recordings, the band felt as though there was something missing from the album. The skeleton had been made, but it still needed flesh. the band decided to draft in Dan The Automator as producer to help provide extras. Dan's first move as producer was to move the album recordings over to the sun kissed beaches of Jamaica. from April to May 2000, the band recorded the final tracks in Jamaica, before production on the album finally finished in June 2000.

Upon returning to Kong after the completion of the album, the band began making plans for their first music video. The band initially sourced Italian director Paulo Skinbacio to direct the music video for the track "Tomorrow Comes Today". The truth is, however, Skinbacio had never been on a film shoot in his life. The music video for the track premiered in a garbage bin outside the music label office. The band decided to fire Skinbacio, which led to him threating the band in German. Now in need of another director, Damon Albarn suggested his old troublemaker flatmate Jamie Hewlett. Jamie was brought to Kong, and agreed to direct the video. He would later become a huge influential part in Gorillaz, going on to direct and assist the band's entire videography.

Gorillaz made their public debut with the "Tomorrow Comes Today" EP and Tomorrow Comes Today music video on November 27th 2000.

On March 5th 2001, Gorillaz released their debut single, "Clint Eastwood". The song and its accompanying video would go on to give Gorillaz the push towards mainstream popularity.

On March 22nd 2001, Gorillaz performed their second ever gig at the London Scala. The gig was televised live on MTV, and was available for rewatch on the band's website.

On March 26th 2001, Gorillaz' self titled debut album, released to the public. The album was a huge success, charting No.3 on the UK albums chart, and No.14 on the US Billboard 200, going on to sell 7 million copies worldwide. Everyone was celebrating the release of the album, except for Murdoc, who's prized Winnebago was stolen the same day as the album's release. Someone over at EMI, had given away the Winnebago keys along with a copy of the album. The person in question who got ahold of the keys, was a man named Dr. Wurzel. Who started a GeoCities page where he would post photos of his many adventures with Murdoc's mobile home. An online craze began on the Gorillaz website, with Murdoc initiating a competition for fans to find his Winnebago. During this time, Dr. Wurzel leaked Gorillaz first track, Ghost Train, and a picture of the band when Paula was still guitarist. At some point in late 2001, Murdoc (or the authorities) apprehended the crazed doctor and returned the Winnebago to its rightful home in the Kong Studios Carpark.

In Spring 2001, the band began recording a music video for the track "5/4", but this was later scrapped in favor of a music video for the track "19-2000", which later released on June 25th 2001.

In Summer 2001, Gorillaz decided to tour Japan. This lead, however, to Noodle beginning to have melancholic feelings and thoughts, not knowing about her past and feeling isolated from her homeland. Also during this time is when Noodle began to suffer from nightmares regarding her forgotten past. Russel decided to buy her a jetpack to cheer her up. During the Japan tour, Gorillaz noted that their popularity there wasn't as big as it was in other parts of the world. To attempt to boost album sales and popularity Gorillaz came up with G-Sides, a compilation album that consisted of bonus tracks, b-sides, and remixes from the band's singles off their debut album. This had the desired effect, as G-Sides released later that December, and went on to sell half a million copies worldwide.

On September 11th 2001, due to the collapse of the twin towers, and closed airports, rap group D12 were left stranded in London. Gorillaz allowed the group to stay at Kong Studios for the time being, during this time the track "911" was born, which served as a response to the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. The track would later feature contributions from Specials frontman, Terry Hall. The song was released as a downloadable single later that winter on both Gorillaz and D12's websites.

In Fall 2001, the band embarked on a tour of Europe. Not long after the tour, the band released their 3rd single and final music video of their debut album, "Rock The House".

In Christmas 2001, Gorillaz released a series of little shorts known as G-Bites which allowed fans to gain an insight on to how Gorillaz live off screen. Murdoc hosted an end of the year party at Kong Studios, which lasted from Christmas Eve to New Year's Day.

On February 20th, 2002, Gorillaz performed at the Brit Awards where they were nominated for 6 Brit Awards but won nothing.

From February 23rd, 2002 - March 11th, 2002, Gorillaz embarked on an 11-month tour of North America. The tour was met with issues from the beginning, as Murdoc was arrested as soon as the band arrived in America, due to an incident in Nebraska 15 years ago. Murdoc made it on stage just in time after paying for the $500,000 bail. During this tour, Noodle began suffering from nightmares again, which led to her losing much sleep. The band passed this off as a feeling of road fatigue and touring at a young age.

On February 25th 2002, the band released the final single of their debut album, which was a single re-release of "Tomorrow Comes Today", with two new B-side tracks instead of the previous ones.

The tour was going pretty well for a while, until the disastrous show in Mexico on March 11th 2002. 2-D had eaten a spicy Mexican burrito the night before, and had diarrhea, Murdoc whacked a fan on the head with his bass, Russel had a heart attack mid show and needed vitamin injections, Noodle was on a trigger due to no sleep, one of Siegfried & Roy's tigers got drunk and stole a motorcycle, and to top it all off, a giant inflatable gorilla head crushed several kids, who had to wait 48 hours before they could be set free.

After the end of the tour, Gorillaz took a six-month break in L.A on March 13th. There they attempted to get a movie project off the ground. The band played their last gig together at the Isle of MTV Festival in Portugal on July 20th. At the end of the gig, a fan asked Murdoc to sign a CD for him, the CD in question being a release from a group associated with Gorillaz that he didn't even know of: these were the Spacemonkeyz- three chimps, who were tested lab monkeys that were sent up to space. Upon arriving back to Earth, the chimps stumbled upon Kong Studios, after 2-D had accidentally left the studio front doors open before the band left for the tour, which allowed the Spacemonkeyz to break in, and steal the master tapes for the band's album. The Spacemonkeyz created the remix album "Laika Come Home" which released on July 1st 2002.

Alas, the film was not meant to be, due in part to extensive over-partying, in-fighting, and disagreements with producers, directors, and a notable incident of Murdoc getting himself banned from the Playboy Mansion for stealing ashtrays. Gorillaz tried to create a movie, but everyone was too concentrated on doing drugs and hanging out with celebrities. Murdoc almost got a TV show, but they replaced him at the last minute. During the film's production, the band worked with director Alfred C. Klinker, who kept changing the film's script everyday, this led to the band eventually firing Klinker, and deciding to check into a Hollywood motel to write the film themselves in August 2002. However, this did not work, as constant fights broke out between the band members, and sense of distrust was grown between everybody. It all came to a head, when one fight led to Murdoc attempting to strangle 2-D to death. Russel and Noodle broke up the fight, but Murdoc finally sick of it all, walked out of the motel, and ended Gorillaz there and then.

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voidcat · 2 years ago

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— Fall Is The Corpse Of Summer

Chapters 1 – 6 (ao3)

↳ the beginning of the end (the opening act)

characters: papa emeritus iii/reader (main pairing), original characters, sister imperator, nameless ghouls (aether, air, et cetera)

a/n: cross posting this fic here so here’s a general warning for the fic: suggestive content, mentioned medical malpractice, mentions of alcohol/smoking/drugs and anesthesia, loss of an animal et cetera. This one’s more of an introduction chapter so it is more focused on the world (church) building and characters too. Gender neutral pronouns are used for reader, in one section mc is called "sister" though.

wc: 14k

In a series of events unimportant and hollow, you find yourself where you are today.

It’s around winter, the cold air biting into your skin that you stand before a grand door, the woman looks unimpressed from how she sizes you up and down with a still glance. Unimpressed at a random stranger’s sudden claim that they wish to join them, their ranks.

The real thing , you consider adding as a later thought, not the concert crowd or whatever it is– despite the irony of that being how you came to hear of them from people you were surrounded with.

It probably came off as pompous to say when you think back on it, but you’d like to have hope that announcing you have experience in the medical field had an effect on where you are today.

And it is a section, separated from the rest of the organization. Metal surfaces of equipment shine under the cold lights of the room, everyone including you clad in long black robes and masks resembling a plague doctor’s.

Your arrival and news of joining their ranks do not attract the attention you expected. Then again, you didn't expect much to begin with.

Maybe distaste for someone joining them so easily.

Instead, the medical wing seems delighted for fresh blood. You certainly don't share the sentiment when they inform you they've got a master/apprentice system happening there too.

The first conversations are always about the outside world.

“Good ol’ sexism still exists, as well as bias against marginalized groups and lack of respect for autonomy.”

That should summarize things, you think, not expecting them to ask more, or for you to spend the next several hours complaining and telling precious experiences as stories.

“Especially because we work under a satanist organization, autonomy is highly valued here too.” One of them says to you.

That’s good to hear, at least. With how often you’ve witnessed absolute lack of regard for patients and staff, how people were made to work to death despite only starting their internship, how some doctors had the audacity to make decisions on behalf of their patients ‘ just in case you change your mind in the future’...

All bullshit, all excuses, so much headache and for what?.. For the cost of your mental wellbeing?

Hah, as if you had that one left sound…

The people change the topic and ask about different aspects, focusing on how far the modern side of things has come– drugs, pharmacy in general, research on diseases and whatnot.

Some they are impressed with but mostly there is disappointment, at how slow they find the pace of things.

“Well, the ethical board and requirements for such things only get tighter after a while.” you say with a shrug, pretty sure you heard one of them mumble ‘that’s what i had told them when i first arrived.’

Knowing there is someone who sounds to be young– or closer to your age than the rest of them feels somewhat better.

“Well, that won’t be a problem here, if you ever grow curious.” you decide to ignore the remark, and what could it possibly mean.

Maybe it was a good thing you dropped your previous work experience to the woman like that, because as they claim, they are short on staff.

You don’t know just how many members are there to this… organization but seeing as to how they do have access to the outside world, you think 6 people isn’t that small.

It takes you a while to stop referring to them as ‘the people’ as you wear the same mask as they do now– have started doing since your conversation with the woman, whom you’ve later learnt to be called Sister Imperator.

Not a core element of them like autonomy is to satanism, but your coworkers value anonymity and privacy, especially during their work hours. And so you’ve found yourself meeting them, and them meeting you wearing their signature piece of clothing.

Maybe it’s an initial sizing up stage of recruiting, to test and see how the future candidates react to wearing a mask even for a mere interview.

So a new routine begins, the page in your book flips open to a new chapter.

Every day you wake up, put on layers of black and the mask with a long beak– maybe add in a flower or few, a sprinkle of spices and herbs you like for historical accuracy, top it off with the hat and the odd pendant and get through with your days.

Even if those are just errands, with your heels echoing in the stone hallways all day.

No matter the location and beliefs, it seems there is no escaping the master-apprentice relationship.

The head doctor, you assume to be, tilts his head with a chuckle as if seeing your frown through the mask.

“That is medicine for you, no matter the age.” she says and shoos you away lightly, off you go now.

You learn quickly why the medical branch was so enthusiastic to get fresh blood among their ranks: they absolutely despise having to go up, out, leaving the quarters or even interacting with anyone outside their branch, anyone nosy or pretty much anyone who is not Sister Imperator herself.

Even then, you are sure they aren’t that fond of her either– at least she doesn’t ask stupid questions that require minimum brain power.

Something they love, though? Experimenting, performing– anything they can use their hands for, test things out and jot down the results, discuss and work further to see what they’ll reach next. All those questions regarding the latest discoveries within your field start to make more sense now.

Autonomy is highly important for satanists, and by extension, for the medical wing, but you can conduct experiments here and there, they say, oh and don’t fall for the first word to leave the ghouls’ lips, they are rather feisty, like to play cat and mouse, just, both parties being the cats and all– with each word spoken, the doctor makes less and less sense. You cannot recall the last time your face scrunched up gradually with each word.

You can, actually, but you’d rather not.

The doctor does make a little more sense when he states ‘their demonic nature ’ to finalize his words.

So the supernatural exists and demons are real, living under the same roof as you do… good to know, now you know to add a dagger next to your scalpel on your outfit.

Still, you figure this is better than nothing.

Sure the empty feeling still resides and you do not like to run errands, nor start over with the whole menial and tedious work of having to climb the ladder all over again but all in all the environment is more tolerable.

For starters, there is more freedom as stupid as it sounds, considering the more …religious part of this organization might be cult like and all.

The other doctors are nice to be around. Anonymity they had promised and anonymity they provide.

Nobody cares who is who, it is difficult to distinguish the people from one another– save for the head doctor, the ace of spades shining black and proud on his chest.

Unlike your previous doctors you’ve worked under and with, they don’t grunt when you ask to do some things yourself, more than happy to make way, hand over the needle to you, guide you when they see fit.

They seem to genuinely enjoy what they do.

And the errands aren’t so bad either if you are honest. Just picking up books from and to the library, the ancient books even from their looks making the distance worth it.

Observing the structure of the entire place and trying out a different path each time you’re outside the wing, you forget the outside world– key word being almost.

During the days you forget about your cat or the rude behaviors you had to endure back then.

Then the nights come, of course, and by the time you are in bed, your hands look for her and you find yourself lying in your spot like the dead, cold, eyes fixed on the stone ceiling until your body shuts down on its own and you only know you have fallen asleep because of how different the room looks in the mornings.

The colors of the rising sun reflect and disperse on stone delicately.

Not even a week in you hear the main doors open and close, the head doctor– Void , sigh loudly and a sound of grabbing paper fills the air.

When you look up all you see is a figure in black with a silvery mask, with what you make out to be horns on it and all.

Is this one of what they called to be ‘ghouls’ ?

Void lets out another sigh, a frustrated one and crumbles the paper. Feet echoing on the floor, the ghoul leaves with a slam of the doors– none of the doctors even batting an eye.

“Newbie, you can leave that desk now, come here.”

Whatever the news is, it’s either about you– which you deem unlikely as you are rather new here, or it is another task you’ll be given.

From the sighs you’ve heard already, a task you coworkers have witnessed enough to dislike and not care about.

“Ever got a hangover?” Void asks as you stand before her and making a sound you cannot make out when you shake your head.

“Alright, let me paraphrase this: ever prepared something to treat a hangover?” curling your lip, you move your head horizontally, not exactly a shake but not a nod either.

“Which one is it this time?” one of the doctors call out to Void, “bet it’s the youngest.” one in your line of vision mutters without even raising their head from their work.

Paying them no mind, Void waves her hand at the bookcase she uses for the latest books she has you brought. “Grab the green spine with vines from there and start preparing a hangover remedy.”

You begin walking towards the case as she continues: “It appears, his excellency the third requires our assistance and skillset.” in a monotonous tone.

You can hear a groan and a ‘pay up ’ as you pull the book with a finger, the same voices from a moment ago.

Void says a ghoul can help with the directions, though with a little persuasion, if you forget and tells you which floor to go and exactly which room to walk into.

The little bowl in hand, you make way, feeling gazes on you as you draw near your target location– probably the ghouls.

A part of you wonders why they aren’t fond of your department.

One, firm knock on the door and you let yourself in, eyes scanning the room for a sliver of movement, only to locate on the floor later.

When you heard the current Papa is also the face and vocals of the band the organization uses as an extra way to spread the word, you did expect a little leniency and laxity– but not a man lying on the floor in a position that makes even your spine cry out, a hand blindly patting the floor to find a bottle you, guess. The awful skeleton face paint, which now seems to be a mess from over drinking, sweating and most likely rubbing his face all over the floor– you do not even want to start with that.

With a few strides, you tower over him and wait, watch as he nibbles on the empty bottle, realizing a little later than the average that it is empty.

Then, he creaks open his eyes and blinks a few times, noticing a shadow that shouldn’t be here and mismatched eyes finally look up.

You only hold out the cup to him.

Placing one knee on the floor to prompt himself up, he gets up and wobbles a little, placing a foot with a stomp, he manages to balance himself and takes the cup.

You stay there and watch as he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing with each sip. A pause, moving his lips as if trying to taste something, and he begins drinking again.

You snap out of it a few seconds too late.

“You new here?” his voice slurs as he asks and you are left wondering what the hell should you say, they absolutely did not warn me for that, what should i do–

“What makes you think that?” you ask back, keeping your voice steady and bored, hands clasped in front of you.

“Everyone’s remedy got a signature. And this,” he raises the cup to his eye level, “tastes different.”

“The same recipe is used for this particular substance. I am afraid I don’t know what it is you’re talking about– or what difference in taste you are referring to.” Should you have used a title of respect? Void did use one in a mocking manner. You should definitely ask this as well once you’re back, and he did seem in bad shape, you doubt he would remember once he sobers up.

“No need for professionalism, piccolo corvo,” he sways to his right, “a yes or no will work just fine.”

You doubt your answer would matter to him, still, you nod your head slightly, doubting he’d catch that in his drunken state and wait as he throws his head back, drinking the cup to the brim.

Fingers holding the edges from above, he holds it between the two of you, a grin plastered on his face.

Without a word, you take the cup and leave as you came.

Running errands all day long seems more appealing all of a sudden.

When you enter the main area of the wing, all heads– beaks, are turned to you.

“So, what do you think?” one of them asks, you can hear the grin in their voice.

Walking towards one of the sinks, you place the now empty cup down, and lean against the counter, hands supporting you from the back.

“Pathetic.”

Void barks into laughter.

You have a bad feeling this won’t be the last time you’ll use this word for the same man, or anyone else you might be summoned for assistance.

“That’s the Emeritus boys for you,” Void says once her laughter dies down. “Gotta hand it over to the man,” she places a hand on her hip, “he knows how to prepare you for what is to come from the very start.”

What a …lovely first impression indeed.

“ So !” she claps her hands swiftly, “welcome to our ranks, officially .” she emphasizes on the last word, “any questions?”

“A few, actually…” you begin, contemplating in what order to ask, feeling Void’s curious gaze on you whereas the others already lost interest, returning to their initial positions.

“Should I use any titles of respect when addressing the, uh, papas ?” god, even saying that word out loud feels weird.

You can sense the sudden drop in Void’s body, the practically beaming posture gone. “Don’t.” she says. “As a means to maintain our anonymity, we do not make conversation with anyone outside our ranks.”

“Not even–” “when discussing with the clergy, yes, but that’s something I do; nobody here is obligated to make conversation with anyone else, so be at ease.”

Mouth pulled into a thin line at the sudden interruption, you listen. Wouldn't lack of communication make things more difficult? As if on cue, Void continues:

“You can use sign language or mouth whatever you’ll say, the ghouls have a tendency to pick those up. But we only resort to verbal communication before operations and such.” nodding as you listen, you’re content with that. You really don’t want to try and see for yourself just how the youngest son would act if you did ever reply back.

“We even considered adjustable heels for each member of our wing, removing any height difference but those footwear are not the most optimal in our line of work. So it’s a choice left up to the wearer.” She adds as a second thought.

The silence resides over the grand room and you can feel Void’s gaze on you.

“Since this place is like,” you halt, “the opposite of abrahamic religions from what i’ve gathered…” your voice falters and you can sense Void leaning in slightly with each word you utter. “Is there a nearby cemetery appointed to us like those?”

She hums thoughtfully at your question, her index tapping her chin as she thinks.

“I am not quite so sure, you’ll have to ask Sister Imperator about that.” she receives another nod from you. “Anything else?”

The nickname he used for you comes to mind. “Raven?”

“Everyone has a nickname for us: ravens, ace,” Void points at herself then gestures the rest of the room, “and spades, and my favorite–” she pauses to create suspense: “a murder, of crows.” you can feel her grin despite the pitchblack mask hiding her face.

“And the italian ?”

At this, you can feel Void rolling her eyes and groan. “Nobody knows for sure. Probably thinks people cannot understand him. The siblings of sin find it charming. We leave the youngest… be.”

That much, you guessed yourself. Had the guy no clue you and possibly everyone else in the medical field can understand latin– and a little italian to some extent? Maybe he just wants to feel special.

“That all?” Void’s voice snaps you back and you find yourself beak to beak with her, startled for a second.

You do wonder about the gazes you’ve felt and her switch in tone whenever the ghouls are mentioned, yet your gut says not to poke around regarding this for the time being.

“One more actually, yes…” your voice trails off as Void nods her head, signaling you to go on.

“So, I really don’t know about the whole god and satan thing going on, no offense, ” you quickly add in ‘it’s fine,’ Void says with a brush of her hand.

“You did mention a demonic nature, so the supernatural exists, to some extent?..”

Taking in a breath, you continue, “So what about practices of such… arts?” you ask.

“I’ll need you to elaborate on that.” she says, her voice not wavering.

“Magic? I suppose?” you offer, shoulders scrunched up like an unsure kid picked for a pop quiz. “Black magic, witchcraft… things like that I guess. Maybe necromancy–”

Now that piques Void’s interest.

“Those exists in theory, yes. Records of these however, are very difficult to attain. One book ever written and only ever passed down from generation to generation, or stolen, you see?” she talks with ease. “In fact, our beloved clergy runs a separate operation to locate such delicate material. There are books in the library’s restricted section and as a part of the medical wing, we all have access to it. How much of their contents would appease you, though, I do not know.”

Superficial at best, vague at worst, huh? It may still be worth a shot, even witchcraft on itself sounds interesting.

“Lost someone you loved?” she asks with a glint in her voice.

“More like didn’t get to mourn.” you answer and hop off, somewhat grateful she doesn’t pry any further.

ii.

The errands required of you lessen in time but never quite ends. Still, you get to work with your hands back in the main area and that’s more sufficient.

Going to the library is what they require the most of you anyway.

Another late morning, you walk down the same hall with feet clattering against the stone, click click, same pace as always, not too fast or slow.

A mess of black, embroidered gold and lines of siky purple catch your eye.

Quite the high-flown robes, you think to yourself, your pace never disrupted as you walk past the figure.

“Sister (name)!” the man calls out to you from behind, the voice tickling your brain, and the misuse of title making you almost freeze in place.

Emphasis on almost, you walk away as if not even having heard him in the first place.

It sinks in as you push open the library doors with the voice and exaggerated robe with a very specific design that yes that is indeed the same man who couldn’t even get up for a solid five minutes, the supposed anti-pope or whatever.

You really need to figure out the official titles used around when you have the time…

Much to your dismay, that occurrence proves to not to be an one time thing.

And every single time, the man calls you with the wrong title, each time he is a little closer to you than last time.

All you can hope is he won’t attempt to grab your arm or something similar, you’d rather not get fired for committing a violent action against a high ranked member as self defense.

With the first ghoul brought into the chambers, your intuition is correct that there is heavy tension between them and your wing.

The ghoul isn’t even there for a trivial matter but the others– the ghouls or your coworkers, you're unsure– insist he stays in case of poisoning.

From what the ghoul tells, it sounds to you as something easily solved with a medicine but one Void insists on further examinations.

And you know for a fact that there is no equipment for any sort of medical imaging, maybe save for USG.

‘We cannot know for sure how the drug will react within your system, ah stop with the whole act, just one slash here, a look there and we’ll stitch you up in no time!’

Luckily the ghoul manages to leave in one piece and without even a scalpel touching their skin.

Maybe heavy tension is an underestimation. You’re sure they would be at each other’s throats if the opportunity rose.

The church has a cemetery of its own, as well as a mausoleum.

Not very close and from the looks of it, hasn't been visited nor tended to in a while.

Still, you find yourself walking the extra meters, out of sight, hidden behind the trees and sit by the recently placed stone mark.

Not your best work by far, but fairly alright despite stone or carving never being your specialities.

It is soothing to walk among the abandoned graves, dead stones not caring for your steps. To sit by and not think about anything in particular.

The cemetery is a serene place.

Something you found people disagreed with for so long. How your mother would sigh after the entire family returns from a visit, the place too morbid, so depressing, draining… hit the shower and she would reemerge half an hour later as if she never stepped foot into the cemetery herself.

You think it is welcoming, as much as life is.

Naturally so, as death is just a part of it all in the grand scheme of things, the final gear to turn the entire mechanism, gets it running and in loop, connecting from start to finish.

This is a different invitation. Of a silence promised, of loyalty they cannot offer anyone else, a warmth they offer despite not possessing it themselves.

The dead sit by your side and listen to you for hours, lie with you and watch the tall trees fluttering their leaves, how the sunlight flickers inbetween. They are the most trusted confidants, they understand, they have lived through it all, they are with you until the very end.

The stone is as cold as her body was.

Pulling back, you remove your cheek from the stone and look down at the ground.

Maybe you should plant some grass, the kind she liked.

The grass tickles your skin but not quite like her whiskers did.

The blooming violets you passed as you walked are soft but not as gentle as her fur ever was.

The chime of the bell reaches all the way over to you from afar. It is time.

Getting up, you dust the skirt of your robe, loop your arm through the fastened belts of your mask and your hat in one hand, begin your walk back.

When a nameless ghoul shows up at the door, a ghoul with no visible pain or injuries, everyone in the wing stops what they’re doing.

Placing your arm on the page you were reading and closing the cover halfway, you observe as the scene unfolds before you.

You can somewhat make out a symbol on the ghoul’s outfit but the distance is too great to tell it apart.

Unlike the standard ones, this one doesn't cower with fear or anxiety at the empty glass eyes the death bringers turn at him.

They wait, for a word, for him to crumble under their gaze, the speculations and tales the newer ghouls tell one another of the unfortunate fates their kind have met at their hands– the ghoul doesn’t even so much as bulge.

Growing tired of each minute wasted away, Void takes one loud step and walks in her usual pace all the way to the ghoul.

Masked faces close, whispering to one another, Void then pulls back, snaps a finger in your direction and beckons you to come with her index.

“Turns out one of our dear nameless ghouls suffered from a minor wrist injury. I need you to go upstairs and observe the current situation, and interfere if necessary.”

You eye the ghoul to your left. Ghouls aren’t fond of you or your department, so why does one show up on behalf of another?

With a nod you walk to one of the cabinets you’ve spotted a splint before. Better to be prepared than nothing.

The ghoul walks ahead when they notice you nearing them and so you follow them all the way to the sound of increasing music.

The walk to what you assume to be their rehearsal room is all fine, enjoyable even, even from the distance the music sounds alright.

Then that wretched voice rises and you hate to fight the urge to stop your feet from turning away.

Great, just the person you needed, in a room full of people who dislike you for your position… surely nothing could go wrong.

The ghoul’s steps slow down as the both of you near and he looks back, hand hovering over the door, to check on you.

The glinting chemia symbol you see on his clothes draws your attention but you decide now is not the most ideal time for questions.

Seeing your nod, the ghoul pushes open the door, the music not even halting for a second.

Staying closer to the wall, to the shadows, your eyes browse the ghouls and return to the one who led you here– almost missing the slight tilt of their head and refocusing your attention on the ghoul that stays near, over the keyboards.

Another symbol of chemia on their clothes, and the bassist, and the guitarist and the drummer and so on…

The youngest Emeritus doesn’t seem to have noticed your existence just yet, but the nameless ghouls certainly have, you can feel the temperature drop and see their bodies tense up.

Then, he realizes when he sees one of the ghouls staring at a fixed point and following their line of sight.

“Ah, corvino!” he exclaims in a giddy fashion, adjusting the microphone stand, “came to see me, si?”

Hands clasped behind your back, you stand motionless.

Recalling Void’s words, you do not owe anyone a word, not even a sign of life– save for Sister Imperator perhaps, and only because you’re positive misfortunes would await you if you were to dismiss her like that.

He turns halfway to face the ghoul tapping on his arm, the same one who led you here; you can make out the words ‘examination’ and ‘just to be safe’.

Unclasping one hand, you gesture at them to continue, hoping they’ve picked up on it.

Maybe you should try whispering, chances are they have advanced hearing compared to humans.

“The Spade signals for us to carry on as usual.” the ghoul speaks up. Void did mention something about a spade, didn’t she?

You hear Papa Emeritus talk under his breath. “What a shame. And here I thought I was missed.”

Eyes mainly focused on the keyboard player, you watch as they begin playing.

It is a relaxed atmosphere if anything. With the ghouls occasionally walking up to one another, as does Papa Emeritus, teasing or just interacting with each other.

And with you walking farther into the wall, blending into the shadows, the ghouls seem to forget about you, or just not care as much.

From what you can see, their use of the wrist looks alright. A little holding back but you don’t notice any wincing– then again, the song doesn’t really require active use of the joints either.

The song ends and they begin a new one, the youngest prowling from the drummer’s side all the way back to the microphone in a rather dramatic fashion.

So it is one of these songs, you redirect your gaze to the Water ghoul, as the symbol on their outfit indicates.

The song must've neared its end. Eyes trailing from the water ghoul to the others and to Papa Emeritus eventually, you watch each figure for a second or two. They all seem in their element, some even raising a hand in the air at certain beats as the instruments go quiet, so it is a rehearsal of both the musical aspect and stage presence.

Or perhaps they’re just showing up.

Sparing the man his two seconds last, you suddenly see him wink at you, remaining in this stoic aura the entire time.

With a roll of eyes, you flip him off behind your back.

You can be petty a little– it’s not like anyone will see.

The song rolls up to an end and you reemerge from your spot, snapping a finger at the water ghoul and at the keyboard, mouthing ‘Just you now, play something that has the keyboard at the center.’

Much to your lack of faith, the ghoul understands as well as the rest, and begins.

Physical examination in the middle of playing an instrument is not exactly ideal. That, and you're not confident the ghouls would allow you to go near them– let alone touch, be it for the sake of their well-being or not. For what it counts, their wrist seems alright.

That should teach them a lesson to not fall for their Papa’s drunken antics– you are positive that’s how they got it hurt in the first place.

Another step out of the shadows and into the lights, you bring a hand up to snap again and throw the splint to their direction.

The ghoul catches it swiftly and turning on your heel, you make your way to the door as Papa Emeritus III watches the entire silence exchange unfold.

“So?” “What the–” you almost jump in place, certainly not expecting to be beak to beak with Void’s chirpy voice when your foot barely made it through the door frames.

Collecting yourself and dusting off your skirt, you straighten up and clear your throat.

“The ghoul seems fine. I left the splint just in case.” you proceed to walk away but Void’s gaze on you doesn’t waver.

“And the ghouls?” she inquires when your silence continues.

Is it some sort of tradition born out of boredom to ask the newbie what they think about every oddity in this god forsaken place?

“They were… exactly like you said.” you pause then add: “Guarded, seemed to understand when I muttered under my breath.” Honestly? You didn’t really care all that much, and neither did they. Perhaps it’s better to leave it at that– mutual ignorance.

“Aether was alright.” you mumble as an afterthought as you return to sort through the books, to see if any of them are no longer needed. Your words, however, seem to interest Void only further, as her faint ‘ooh?’ implies– instead of boring her with their vagueness.

Then it hits you, exactly what drew her, and probably another one or two doctors’ attention like that.

“I figured the highlighted symbols on their outfits were there to tell them apart?” you say unsure, testing the waters. It is a question or an answer, all according to what they want.

Void seems to seize you for a moment, even without her arms crossed, she looks serious.

“Clever girl!” she exclaims suddenly, placing a hand on your shoulder, too hard to be called a supportive pat– not that you think she has done this type of affectionate behavior with other people before. “Papa refers to him as Omega though, just so you know.”

Her words catch you off guard, you doubt you ever heard Void refer to the man as ‘papa’.

“You wouldn’t believe how long it takes some individuals to figure such simplicities out.” You hear her trail off in the back of your mind.

You learn, and witness firsthand from then on that Void can be quite the affectionate type… verbally.

‘Good and clever girl’s thrown around, you’re usually on the positive receiving end of these, that is, when you are around. Be it walking, breathing or even just a project going as expected, or beyond expectations, she graces the pet names– those she deems harmless and teasing, ‘bad girl’ and the likes. For anything even remotely annoying, or causing a crease on her forehead, her words get much sharper.

Despite having your presence accepted in the entire medical department, enough to be present at any experiment, operation and whatnot conducted; you still find yourself going upstairs, walking down the halls, occasionally passing a sibling of sin or a ghoul, receiving curious, scared and equally aroused looks from the former and icy stares from the latter.

Not even a week in, you find yourself toe to toe with Aether as you exit the grand doors leading to your wing.

The injured ghoul– Air, has accepted physical examination, he informs you and walks by you this time.

The walk still silent like the last time, yet the air around him doesn’t feel as hostile. Taking a turn down the hall, you find your feet going down, to the same floor your wing is located, then deeper and deeper down.

To create an illusion of hell perhaps, since it’d be considered a demon’s home and all.

Yet the halls are damp and cold.

Drop drop, droplets of water fall down the stone paved halls, echoing with each drop of temperature.

Soon it grows dark, until there is light once more. The darkness sees to take forever, the walk down, endless too.

When you begin your examination, Air doesn’t appear to be as enthusiastic, or cooperative; something tells you it was Aether talking him into submission.

All in all, he seems to be in a better condition– if not back to normal.

You wouldn’t know, if the demonic speculations regarding their nature holds any truth to it.

Their skin feels like a human’s does. Maybe a tad warmer but you’re not exactly known for fingers preserving your body temperature.

The feel of his bones underneath the skin seem alright, a little harder than a human’s, the sharp angles of the bones tenting under the skin. Long slender fingers suited for a pianist and nails you’d not expect on one.

Sharp and curved, even from looks alone you can tell they’re more keratinized than a human’s are. You wonder how they’d click against glass or hard, polished wood when tapped against the surface rhythmically.

Recovering the splint from the ghoul, you bid farewell with news of his recovery and find yourself in the cold pits of hell near Aether again.

He leads you through a different path this far, your synapses trying their best to save every turn and curve, every step taken; every light, crack and sign that stands out.

Much to Air’s dismay, you’re positive, Aether reveals to you that he did use the splint, made sure to rest his wrist and now warms up more properly before performing.

You take it all in with a nod and turn, making way back to the doors your hands now always push on the same spot, right above the handle, the carved design fitting right into your palm, the stunted ridges biting against your gloves.

iii.

Emeritus men and their undeniable power within the church has never been a thing of confusion for you, the rank, title and power all must be transferred by blood, a simple monarchy.

You do begin to question however, whether they’re just simple humans or possess powers of supernatural, or something in their blood, something inhuman.

Because every time you think to yourself, that all you want is to have a neutral, quiet day; the man somehow loiters around in your vicinity, as if reading your mind, making sure your day is at the very least contains of annoyance in it.

Time in your hands, and not many tasks for the time being,

No, there is no other explanation as to how that man can be around you somehow, especially on the days all you want is peace and quiet– two things not in his vocabulary.

“Sister (Name!)”

The voice grates your ears, coming from behind and trying to sink its claws onto you.

Keeping the rhythm of your steps, you continue walking, ignoring. Only silence follows afterwards.

Then it repeats– again and again.

And with each time, the sound grows louder, closer, more persistent, and repeating more often.

You do not even want to ponder as to how he could’ve found out your real name. Maybe if Sister Imperator keeps files on everyone, you wouldn’t put it past him to get his hands on them and snoop.

“Sister (Name!)” he calls out again, right behind you, and you contemplate whether to face the man or still play the fool.

“I know it is among your rules, the- ah,” you hear him snapping his fingers, to get the words out “speak not, to remain without an identity, but you are off working hours right now, si?”

You are well aware he cannot see, raising an eyebrow in disbelief and irritation, but you’re positive he will sense your energy.

Instead, he takes your silence as an invitation to continue, then again, you doubt even a ‘no’ could stop this man once that mouth is open for all to hear.

“So you can speak, technically, no?”

He tries again. Maybe it’s better to rip it off early once and for all. “I can, but I choose not to most of the time.”

Before he can say anything, you follow up quickly: “To add to that, it was a sister of sin, you were calling out for, if I recall right from the previous weeks. Last time I checked, I still serve as a spade under Ace, located in the medical wing.”

Not sparing him the chance to answer or his brain the time to register, you turn on your foot and walk away.

Was it too stern, did you speak too harshly? He wouldn’t pull some strings for being spoken to with what may come off as attitude and arrogance, would he?

You learn the answer to be another ‘no’.

In fact, you see taking the stern, direct way is often the way to handle the youngest son.

He still lingers around whenever he can, trying to approach you from time to time, ending up with empty hands much to his dismay.

At least he no longer calls you by an improper title, there is hope for this manchild after all.

That morning, the main room is… livelier than usual.

Your fellow colleagues all running around, with a life to their movements, whatever is approaching must have them excited.

Watching them clean the equipment laying around, cleaning the place and seeing there isn’t much left for you to be doing, you lean against the nearby stretcher until Void spots you.

She explains briefly that twice every year, the medical wing has a ‘day off’ where they are relieved of their duties, excluding category red situations which they often attain two members to, and the evening is spent together outside the white coats, or so she says.

“A group exclusive night-out with food, dancing, forms of entertainment, everything on the table, yet with people you do not know technically.” Someone says from behind. “Like a nightclub that requires connections.”

“Alcohol isn’t allowed. Courtesy of those men serving a first hand lesson. Yet any other ways to …let your mind decharge, they are allowed up to certain limits. I certainly doubt anyone would like to waste their ‘me-time’ taking care of an OD case.” Her voice trails of in disdain, even the idea itself must be irritating.

“So when you say ‘like a night-club’?..–” “What happens on these nights, stay on these nights. As long as you maintain your work ethics and keep the relations strictly for these nights, nobody cares. We wear masks and withhold our identity for several reasons after all.” she goes over quickly.

Alright, it wasn’t exactly intercourse you wanted to ask about but good to know for when you feel your libido might increase.

Nodding at her, you hum, “so a ‘The Cult Of Dionysus’ type of deal.”

“Darling,” you can hear Void’s sigh, “I don’t care whatever deity you believe as long as nothing gets in the way of our work,” she shakes a hand in the air as to remind you of the main idea for them, “but may I remind you we are tied to a church that worships Lucifer, maybe better to keep quiet about your beliefs, no?”

You can feel color drain from you with every word she speaks into the air. If it was possible to conjure up a hole and crawl in, then seal the opening, you would.

“I think they were talking about a song.” A faint voice you haven’t heard before comes to your rescue.

“I see…” “Yes! Do you know?”

The doctor entering the picture looks at you with what you assume to be uncertainty. “On the surface. Though I can say, you are not that far off with your comparison.”

With not much else to do, you take your leave, accepting a second mask from one of the doctors before you go.

Compared to the one you wear one a daily, this is just a regular mask, half masquerade appropriate. The shape and details of it still resemble a black bird but the beak covers over the nose and a little bit of the mouth, leaving an opening for it.

By the time the clock strikes nine, you are down below, a different chamber picked for the night, this one is deeper than the main chambers.

With only candles to light the space, clouds of smoke here and there, the smell of incense fills the air.

Everyone sprawled somewhere, they all appear much different than what you are used to. The change of clothes play a role in this too yet it doesn’t take you much to realize, these nights will be when you see their true faces.

A hand on your arm draws your attention, the same doctor from before greets you and soon, you let her drag you away.

Hand in hand, it feels nice to feel someone else’s skin again. To feel the warmth of their breath on you.

No alcohol but everything else on the table, knowing something is one thing but trying it is an otherworldly experience, you come to see. She guides you through some just in case, ‘maybe this one in the form of tea for your first time will be better?’, the close proximity makes you dizzy, she makes you dizzy, but the feeling isn’t overwhelming.

Maybe it really has been quite some time.

The guarantee of anonymity and the awareness that nobody gives a damn what anyone else is doing, who they are doing, you let the night roll and wash over.

Warm breath tickling your neck, the pressing of lips, hands that once held you now on you, it feels good to be touched like this– not a piece of meat but an equal, someone to satisfy, someone to taste.

You should arrange a gift for Void for forbidding alcohol when you have the time. By the time morning arrives and you are back stationed for duty, your body refuses to imagine how much worse its state would’ve been, were drinks involved.

Loud, the mornings are too loud, your brain decides.

The clank of the tubes grates your ears, you have to slow your steps to reduce the sounds.

Someone speaking from behind you is all it takes for you to be startled.

“Did you like your party?”

You stare at the doctor with confusion. Too early.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?–” they ask and the voice of the doctor from last night joins in.

“We use our dates of recruitment for anyone who still misses celebrating birthdays. Consider last night your first one here with a little delay. Happy birthday fledgling.”

It is still too early, but if you’ve heard right and registered fully, it sounds like a nice idea in theory. And probably just an excuse to take the edge more often. You should find a nickname for this doctor in particular if she continues interacting with you like that.

Too early, too early, your brain keeps chanting. You can sense a headache approaching already.

…Maybe you should note that idea down

iv.

Void and space are similar concepts in a way.

Both symbolizing that lack of nothing; broad, black emptiness, a hole, a vacuum.

When that doctor approaches you for the third time in the past two days, you decide to call her Space in your head.

Anonymity be damned, you can tell them apart by their voices, footsteps, posture and way of handling things alone, nicknaming for the sake of avoiding confusion should not be against the procedure.

Space, like Void, is a bolder person in the wing. Direct methods, direct speech, steps that echo on the stone floors, that latex of gloves slapped tight against her skin.

You haven't seen her outside the wing much but you know the ghouls aren’t fond of her either.

Just as with Void.

Just as with the medical wing.

Something stinks and you’re unsure whether you want to track the source down or wait for your receptors to accumulate.

And Space, just like Void, is very enthusiastic when it comes to more …penetrative and aggressive methods.

Especially when these involve the nameless ghouls– but then again, from what you’ve seen, that’s all that ever involves the nameless ghouls. They cannot come in for a simple auscultation and leave. There is always a strike of color, always a scalpel, blood drawn, inspected and analyzed. Any ghoul forced to come down begs to leave as soon as they can, with minimum contact.

The lucky ones get away with a simple physical examination but that is fruitless on its own when the ghoul physiology isn’t like humans’– or so Void claims.

You never really paid attention to what the others do when there are no cases, mostly you were unable to when you were sent above, yet you find yourself wondering now with Space surrounding you often, offering a helping hand, suddenly leaning above your shoulder to see what you are reading.

You find yourself stumbling over your words more often, actively asking for tasks to leave the quarters, almost tripping over your foot once, dropping a closed file twice, spilling tea over one of the tables several times.

Space leaves you a nervous wreck, a fumbling mess like an interning doctor who has no clue where anything is located, lost in the wide labyrinth of the hospital– worse than when you were an intern, worse than when you were an assistant doctor, you know the information is there, the confidence, the skillset to perform yet all of it locked away and the way to the key goes through her.

You just don’t know what awaits once you reach her.

With enough time spent, you’ve grown used to the treatment you receive from the rest of the place.

Whatever the cause behind this reclusiveness may be, it is not so bad to be surrounded by people constantly, all asking something ‘for a friend’, here to ask for something quick, that it won’t take much, only to complain or even threaten when your responses aren’t to their liking.

As if this is not a service offered but something bought, something that can be attained so easily.

And with the mix-up of titles with the youngest one cleared up, he gives you a peace of mind more or less– mostly because he doesn’t know how to address you now, you assume.

This does not stop him from trying though.

And like always, you find a way to dodge him through.

Turns out when he doesn’t know what to call you, or knows that he should not even be calling for you directly, not without a line of requests being admitted to the wing for whatever may be the cause of his request for a health service, he opts to follow you around until he loses sight of you.

If you can ever reach speaking terms with the ghouls, you should ask Aether their practice routine, and correspond your outside the quarters duties to those hours.

A grunt is the first response you receive when you try approaching a group of ghouls you see.

Alright, wrong nameless ghouls, better luck next time, and so on…

Before you can search further, a firm grip on your arm holds you in place, giving your brain a little shake; and you have half a mind to hold it right then and there and not explode on the head of the church.

He only grins in return, cheeky and eyes closed.

If blindness was a virtue, he would’ve ascended into heaven by now.

Fully facing him without a word, you wait for him to say whatever meaningless sound will leave his mouth for the day.

“How lovely to see you–“ he halts, his grip on your arm loosens, “err… beloved Spade.” He says the word as he weighs it on his tongue, sounding unconfident.

With a slight nod to show your acknowledgment, you urge him to continue.

“I was wondering would you care to join m–“ without waiting for him to finish, you strip your arm free of his hold, raising the books you were holding in front of his face with a little shake, ‘duties to attend to’, and walk away to what you hope to be the direction of the library.

You doubt he was offering anything inappropriate to begin with. Nevertheless you’d rather avoid any circumstance that'll leave you alone in a room with him– the chances of the occasion resulting with one death at the very least, very likely.

Yet the man does not give up.

It’s almost impressive how quickly you learn his walking patterns and the echoing sounds of his steps.

When your eyes spot the ghoul you were looking for, you make a mental note to thank Lucifer for taking pity on you at last.

Much to your dismay, your greeting is met with another grunt, “They call me Omega.” The ghoul says flatly.

But the symbol on your– nevermind, you decide to leave it at that and instead, ask for what you’ve come for but he walks away before you get the chance.

You don’t expect to be summoned a few days after that, for complaints about breathing, that’s all the messenger ghoul says.

Blazer, shirt and everything underneath taken off, the dim light falls on the ghoul’s gray skin. The stethoscope’s diaphragm moving from one spot to another under your hand’s guidance, you listen intently as the ghoul breathes with his mouth.

Pulling the ear pieces off and hanging the item from your neck, you get up to face him as he puts on a shirt, ignoring your gaze.

“What was it you called for me again?”

“Trouble breathing.” He answers curt.

Two can play this game, your voice drops. “Not the made-up complaint, I want to know why you called for me.”

The ghoul answers with silence this time, buttoning the shirt up.

“I’ve listened to your lungs, the sounds are clear and well. I can do a full examination with palpation and all but the lot of you do not seem fond of that. So if that’s all, I’ll take my leave.”

The ghoul seems to consider your words for a moment then nods in agreement.

Hands still on the buttons, the ghoul looks up at you, “What should I–“ “Lie on your back, you can keep the shirt on but keep it unbuttoned.”

Watching as he nods a second time then walks to where his bed is, hands quickly undoing the shirt. Lying down with both hands at his side, he looks like the mummy of someone who was constipated right before he died.

Omega watches as you place a hand on his torso, separating your index and ring fingers from the rest and hitting at them with your other index finger, ‘this,’ your voice reaches his ears, ‘is what we call percussion.’ you say as your finger hits the back of your fingers, leaning in and repeating the hit once in a while, listening for the sound you create.

Once you reach down, you switch back to your dominant hand, grabbing at his flesh, digging in your fingers and going slightly up with each breath he takes. ‘And this is palpating.’ You say as to explain.

Your touch is not gentle but it isn’t unwelcome either.

The most Omega can say to describe it would be ‘neutral’. There is no malice, no hidden agenda to gain. Is that because of your profession, is that what a doctor’s touch feels like?

‘By touching and pinching you like this, I check for anomalies,’ your voice is faint in the back of his mind.

He doesn’t know.

Maybe you do deserve an answer after all.

‘If your muscles contract and when–‘ “To size you up.” Omega speaks into the space between the two of you.

A reply for before, you do not finish your sentence, only continue to press into his sides.

“There are better ways to learn about a person.” You say after a while. “A meal, a stroll,” you let Your voice trail off. “You can tell a lot about someone from the way they hold themselves, carry their weight, even how they drink tea.”

Silence falls between the two of you. Straightening up in your place, you prepare to take your leave, the ghoul leaning on his elbows for support, eyes fixed somewhere else.

As you turn on your heel, his words drag you back in.

“You’re not like them, are you?”

More and more You’re starting to see why they called the ghouls uncooperative. “And you guys are rude pricks, did you know?”

His hands still in place, leaning in, you can picture him squinting his eyes at you.

“What did Dabria tell you about us exactly?”

The name rolls off his tongue like a curse. It sounds latin, or something closer. Is he talking about Void? It’d not be wise on your part to ask.

“Why would I answer to someone clearly on hostile terms with me regarding internal affairs of my division?”

Eye for an eye, a question for a question. His posture slightly drops as if deeming this entire interaction no longer worth pursuing.

“We have our reasons.” He says as he watches the buttons he does one by one. “There is a reason the medical wing isn’t well liked among the more common members of the church.”

After this, he falls silent again, and you retake your initial position, to get the hell out and try to make sense of whatever this conversation was.

Your Hand on the hard surface of the door, You’re about to push as his voice comes out in a whisper ‘it wasn’t always like this.’

Whatever has gone down, all his words leave a sour taste in your mouth. More and more you find yourself less enthusiastic to find out the history between them.

You pay it no mind when another ghoul comes by the main chambers to carry out a message.

It does draw your attention however when the sounds start to increase, the doctor who answered the door, or so to say, sounding rather impatient and their patience growing thin at the ghoul.

Catching your gaze on them, they make a gesture for you to approach and you can make out half the things the ghoul is saying.

Something about fresh blood and direct instructions from Omega himself. Seeing you within an arm’s reach, the ghoul ignores your colleague and takes a step forward, with them stepping into the light you take notice of a box they are holding.

“For you.”

Taking the box, you turn and walk away to create a distance, ignoring the doctor’s partially irritated, partially curious gaze.

The sharp smell of earl grey, sage and linden reaches your nostrils first. Little pouches of tea of various kinds sit inside the small box– appearing to be hand carved upon a quick inspection. What catches your eye is the odd labels on the pouches though, on one it sounds like a riddler, another one just says a number, a chime regarding some sort of special day and what-not.

So he remembered.

The thought brings a smile to your lips.

Snapping the box shut, you walk back to the angry pair.

“Send Omega my regards,” you hold out the box back to the ghoul, “but I prefer to make, prepare and brew my own tea.” Before the ghoul can say anything in return, you walk away to note down the details for the meeting.

Your judgment remains conflicted.

Trying to keep it unclouded is a challenge when you're surrounded by people who do not regard the ghouls as beings of equal will.

There is a bias that shows itself between the lines, for small glimpses in the passage of time.

Benefit of the doubt comes rather naturally when all your hours are spent with them.

Anything of confusion, Space is always around to help. In her idle times, she is still around, sometimes showing up near you, making a comment, saying a joke– a lot easier to get along with than the rest of them. Even if she doesn’t laugh at all your jokes, she still understands them. Equipment you’re about to reach out for appears right under your hands, a slight tilt of head from Space across from you, you can see her smile behind the mask.

You get more involved with the operations done within the wing, patients being brought to your feet often.

If there is one thing they all have in common, it is the trembling in fear you observe in each and every one of them.

Siblings are scared of the mysterious people behind masks, the unknown hidden behind black and beak and the sharp scent of herbs arising from some of them.

The ghouls, however, are an entirely different deal. Fear and fury, fuming with all emotions red and intense.

You don’t want to be judgmental, you really don’t, yet the way they behave even for the smallest, most harmless of things, you’re beginning to see why the medical wing isn’t fond of the ghouls.

When another ghoul is brought in, nothing major, nothing big, but the damned demon will not stop struggling, wriggling in everyone’s grip, trying to escape at every small opening; maybe you do have a limit, and it is about to be crossed– or has been already.

One of the doctors is pinning the demon down to the table from the chest as you spot Space drawing near, most likely to become an extra pair of hands.

“Hey, did you hear music therapy can help loosen up a patient, maybe even sedate them to a point?”

You can feel the other doctor staring at you in careless confusion, probably thinking something along the lines of ‘this brat is talking nonsense again.’ Yet the message delivers.

Tapping her chin, Space hums in deep thought, “Worth a try, do you have anything in mind?”

A sudden high pitched sound and you see her rushing to a cabinet, mumbling about that one being left there after the latest gathering as she crouches and leaves your line of sight.

With a guitar in her hand, she re-emerges, expectant eyes on you, waiting, “you play?”, she responds with a strum of the strings.

“Alright how about chords to match this:” and you hum the melody in your head.

Listening to you, she copies the tune in no time with ease.

Before the ghoul can look between you and her, you break into a singsong voice: ‘I’m so sorry that you have to have a body!’

Placing a hand over your chest, you make a fake pout, scrunched up brows with pity. With each repeat of the sentence, you can see the ghoul tense up, chest moving rapidly.

Up and down, up and down, the ghoul snaps up once you enter the first verse,

It will betray you, you lean into the ghoul’s direction,

Be used against you, you can see your beak almost touching that silvery mask, a smile on your face as you sing,

Then it will fail on you, my dear, you tilt a head and tap on their cheek, an action that’d be considered sympathetic were the circumstances different.

‘But before that,’ you spin on your heel with a hand in the air, ‘you’ll be a doormat!’ you wave your index at the ghoul, lean in slightly and whisper. Both hands in the air, you move them around, wobbling your head, only to walk back and seat yourself on the edge of the operation table next to the ghoul’s legs. The ghoul trembles, kicking their feet in the air, struggling to break free of the restraints as you lean in closer with each word you sing, your voice lowering.

Space watches the scene before her eyes, a foot tapping on the floor to keep rhythm. When the ghoul starts posing a threat that can break free, the other doctor slams their wrists back against the table, pinning the ghoul down with force– leaning to the side and prompting yourself up with your elbow, you watch as the ghoul uses the last traces of their stamina.

“Stop moving around or you’ll not be getting anesthesia.” the ghoul hears you say and snaps their head to your direction.

The main lyric of the song spills from your lips and you hop off the table, walking up to a nearby cabinet. Opening a drawer, you take a packed syringe out, fingers roaming over the small drawers with labels, your hand stops before propofol.

You’ve seen the others use ketamine more often but the side effects seem like an extreme measure to you. Not to mention how beyond stressed the ghoul is now, no thanks to you, too. Quickly preparing the drug, you set it aside.

‘Filled with infection’ you mumble the lyrics to yourself as you take out anything else you might need, walking back to the ghoul quickly, you roll up the sleeve, tie the tourniquet, those are quite the plump veins, you cannot help but think. Take the cannula, check the vein, insert the needle, ‘singing in unison’, you can hear the guitar has slowed down. The flashback of blood comes, darkest you’ve ever seen, and appears to be thicker than a human’s. Pushing the cannula in and securing its place, the rest of the steps come in easy.

The song is now a mindless rhyme on your lips, ‘uninvited, passing through us’.

It's the hands that know you’ve set it all up, before the mind.

Flicking lightly at the syringe containing the drug, you insert it ‘I’m sorry that you have to have a body’, and watch as the ghoul’s movements come to a stop, still, the body going limp and the mask falling off with a loud clank against the stone floors.

Another idle day with your colleagues uncharacteristically moving around means another night of gathering to come.

Not much to do in the headquarters and not having any unfinished or upcoming work that requires your attention for the moment, you decide to go ground level and look around.

If you’re lucky and the weather takes pity, you can visit the gardens and pick some thyme for yourself, at worst, you can kill time in the library or fall asleep in its warm confinements.

You always forget the worst case scenario until you hear his footsteps a few meters away from you.

“Greetings doctor.” He catches up to you with ease, perks of having long legs you suppose, and matches your pace. “Busy day ahead?”

“Or plans for the night perhaps?” he asks when you don’t do as much as offer him a sign of acknowledgement.

“I’ve heard you corvi like to have your fun, despite berating me for mine, eh?” Either a bluff or this man is more resourceful, and surprisingly, smarter than he looks.

You’re leaning more on the former to be honest.

“Come now caro!” he whines, “is this not your day off, you can speak, no?” you’d almost find his tone desperate… if this was not the same man who somehow manages to put fear into the hearts of some, leads and gets along with a bunch of ghouls with attitude and knows how to impress people when required.

“Ca–” His word gets stuck in his throat as a third figure joins you on your other side and whisks you away.

Well, whisked away in his eyes, you spotted Space as you turned the corner and only quickened your steps when she was right by your side.

“Doctor.”

“Doctor.” Space and you exchange nods, and break into giggles right after.

“Any plans for the night?” she asks with glee. “Not yet. I want to check what the Doctor was grinding and stirring earlier today.”

Faking a hum, she nods at nothing in particular. “An excellent choice indeed. I’ve heard tonight is the perfect occasion for this.” “Couldn’t have agreed more myself, my dear colleague.”

It is weirdly entertaining to straighten up more than a wooden ruler and talk without breathing from your noses, intimidating old geezers patrolling the hospital halls, only looking for younger faces to scold and embarrass.

Before turning the corner, Space shoots a quick glance to behind.

“It seems someone is rather fond of you.” you can hear the tease in her voice, a groan escaping your lips immediately.

“Do not even get me started.” your eyes roll involuntarily at this point, “the fruit fly probably got dismissed by everyone else and picked me as his most recent victim to annoy to death.”

It might as well be simpler than that in reality.

You do know your colleagues have stopped emerging to the ground level unless absolutely necessary, the man must be equally bored and curious to suddenly see a figure in all black, with a beak and a hat, roaming the halls smelling flowers and old books.

“I honestly doubt he could tell even the two of us apart. He’ll grow bored of me eventually.” a reassurance to Space or to yourself– the mask is always on her face but you can feel the unconvinced expression burning into you.

“Hm… whatever you say.” a stranger's opinion should not hold this big an effect on you, yet it does.

And Space herself has become more than a stranger for you to be easily ignoring her phrases like that. Every sentence that comes out, you cannot help but look for more, the things between the lines, the undertones, the implications.

When you hear her voice, it’s her warmth you can feel on your skin already, her eyes that gaze into yours, her lips that move and mesmerize–

Come now, let’s get ready.”

The spell breaks in the same fashion she set it up, once again.

vi.

One thing you’ve come to enjoy is visiting the gardens and picking up herbs whenever your stocks begin to waver.

The gardens is a gleeful distraction, not quite like the church, the cemetery or the chambers smelling of disinfectants.

When Void is summoned by the clergy to go over some immediate matters that morning, your suspicions of the man recognizing you out of all the doctors, despite the standard outfit everyone wears is confirmed.

You watch from a distance as everyone dispels after few hours, the youngest Emeritus treating Void like he does anyone else, without any show of emotion in his behavior, like she is just some background character to fill the space, no different than the clergy members or anyone else for that matter.

Now lies the question of how he tells you apart from the rest of them.

Maybe he does not, your brain begins to theorize when it’s been over a week and he has not tailed after you once, let alone approach and pester you like always.

You were right after all, he did reach his limit and grew tired, just as predicted.

Then how come you don’t feel light and at ease like you hoped you would be?

The answer comes to you on a cool spring afternoon as your hands dance in the little bushes of rosemary, allowing the leaves to tickle your skin.

“Doctor.” the voice you’ve grown too familiar with speaks in a matter stranger to you. So he can do formal when he wants to.

“Sire.” you greet back with a nod, your hand still stroking over the rosemaries.

“Fond of music and entertainment of our own, are we?” He lazily walks up to a bush of roses, threading his hand between the thorny stems. Eyes slowly following his line of movement, your hand comes to a stop, a leaf plucked between your fingers.

“Quite the interesting song, too. Tell me, did you write it yourself or did your little friends help with that as well?”

If it is not odd to not have him follow you around like a desperate little needy kid; hearing his voice come out stern and without any of its usual sway, accompanied by a smile that does more to unnerve you than give comfort definitely is.

The mention of a song and the image of that doctor’s hands appearing before your eyes clears up the confusion rather quickly yet you remain in your posture.

“Was it worth it, at least?” he presses on, “amusing?” his voice grows louder, or he has gotten closer.

“The poor thing went on for days, repeating it like a mantra. What was it again, the terror of body?–” “body terror song.” you cut in, standing up on your feet, a stem of rosemary plucked and tossed to the basket by your feet.

“There are better ways to thank me, you surely must know.” you pass the man in his robes, ignoring his stern gaze on you.

“For what?” he lets out a dry laugh, “traumatizing one of my ghouls? I will say it only once, spade.” the title sounds bitter on his tongue, “Stay away from my ghouls.”

“for preventing the ghoul from becoming broken beyond repair” you emphasize on the word, your voice rising to match his tone, ignoring his warning.

“From dying, or becoming a mere doll to experiment on,” you list off in a calm manner, speaking out each word slowly, watching his expression morph as each word sinks in, “no?” cocking your head to the side, you imitate him..

Despite the combination of distaste and discomfort on his face, he seems to weigh your words, reaching the same conclusion as you did, hopefully.

“Maybe next time, prevent your colleagues from getting their hands on my ghouls.”

Seeing as he is not ready to give up just yet, you opt for a scolding: “Maybe next time,” you mimic his accent, “you teach your ghouls basic hygiene and how to maintain their immune system.” Bringing a hand to the base of your beak as if pinching your nose, you let out a sigh. “I mean, the things they come for are usually minor cases deteriorating.”

With your eyes closed, you don’t see the man before you perk up at your statement.

Creaking an eye open, you’re met with the sight of him staring at you with childlike curiosity and wonder. “You mean?..–“ he takes a pause, contemplating.

“Do you know the flu?” You place a hand on your hip, maybe all he needs is a little push and guidance.

When you catch him nod hesitantly, you shift your weight onto your other foot. “The flu is a typical cold season disease, yes?”

Another hesitant nod and you throw your head back with a groan. “So it is an easy condition which you can recover from without any permanent damage.”

Waving your hand with each thing you count, you take a step forward. “Kids have it every year, adults have it every year, just sneeze into your napkin, strengthen your immune system or get vaccinated if yours is weak. But–“

Another step forward, you begin to realize just how little distance is left between. Clapping your hands together, you point down at the floor, “the flu still kills people.” Cocking your head to the side, your hands point down further to emphasize. “When the living conditions are bad or the immune system is weak. A preventable simple disease.”

The task of picking up herbs and the barely filled basket all cast aside, the two of you stay like this for a while. His eyes looking everywhere but yours.

Then as if having an epiphany, he perks up again, “Doctor!” looking more like a cartoon character than a real person– a child, is what this man truly is, you are convinced each time you interact with him.

“Come down for a visit and teach my ghouls!”

Not so much of an epiphany then.

“Or you can purchase any parenting book, learn and teach the basics to them on your own.” You say flatly, observing as his shoulders drop at your words.

“It wouldn’t be the same without you. Is this not your expertise? It’d be mo–“ “Pediatrics was my least favorite actually.”

You can see confusion written all over his face at the first word. “Besides, I cannot be of any help if their physiology– if their body works different than a human’s.” You correct yourself, “They’re your ghouls, you said it yourself! It’s better if you do it.”

“Anything you wish to know about them, they would–“ he looks up, snapping his fingers, “ah, what was it?.. Cooperate! yes, if your help meant they’d not be called down to your wing.”

The offer itself is tempting but it feels like acting behind your coworkers’ backs somehow. But on the other hand, this could result in more time for yourself if you managed your schedule just right.

With a sigh, you walk back to where the basket lies and crouch down for it.

“Fine, I’ll do it, but you’ll run the date and the time through me first.” One last attempt to sound like you do not want to do this, you blink a few times at the beaming smile blooming on his face.

“Deal?” you hold out your unoccupied hand toward him, “see you soon, corvino.” He gives your hand a firm, singular shake.

When Void is called in for another meeting, it draws everyone’s attention but no one comments on it.

Knowing her, whatever exaggerated nonsense came up this time will become this week’s focus of mocking and gossip.

It turns out to be much worse instead.

In the meantime, you find yourself with the ghouls, spending enough time to know their names and tell them apart by voice. They are reluctant to take off their masks,

A whiny ‘it’s not fair now, is it? you guys can see my face.’ doesn’t work as you’ve hoped, some bullshit illogical explanation about how it’s only some of them that can see through the masks, and despite your claim you keep yours on, blah blah blah.

Apparently ‘I don’t want Mr. Halloween to see my face.’ isnt a good enough excuse– something about the ghouls not giving a fuck about what he says or thinks, or even his presence, from what you’ve gathered thus far.

What Sister Imperator asks for is three of the doctors to accompany the band for an event. Claiming the recent reports and analysis point to extreme heat levels for the estimated period of time and to have professionals at hand to intervene if anything happens, both for the band and for the crowd could be beneficial.

“I don’t care how you do the whole gig and stage thing, but we are not some circus, ready to act on your every word.”

“That’s what i said to her” Void miciks her behavior from earlier, sounding exhausted.

“And what did they reply with?” One of the doctors from behind you asks. Dropping her head into her palms, Void lets out a loud groan, “That if this is a circus, we are also a part of it. And it’d be good for the public image. Whatever that means.” She scoffs.

“However–“ she speaks up again, a mirth in her voice, “three will stay behind, with me. And the clergy has a meeting due one of these days. The church and everyone in it will be left to us.” She spells the last sentence, syllable by syllable, like a meal to be savored with small bites.

You can feel Space perk up besides you, as well as two other doctors.

If there is no way out and the departure won’t be immediately, you should at least warn the ghouls.

During your idle times and faked emergencies occurring whenever you are the first to attend to the matters, the ghouls provide to be more interesting than you have expected. Still fiery, that’s a given but once past the biases they hold, they become somewhat friendly.

Curious little children, in a way. Not even for a second they sit down to rest, certainly got captivating stories to tell and more than willing to learn about themselves, asking you to explain each and every single thing– even after staring at you dumbfounded, barely nodding or hearing what you’re saying.

Their physiology is like a human’s mostly. Viruses are an extremely different matter obviously, their heart is stronger, muscles are more developed, a thicker skin and a different melanosit, and of course; the tails.

A detail they’ve kept hidden from your colleagues successfully for so long and the very same body part certain ghouls use to whisk away your equipment, or mess with each other. The amount of times you’ve witnessed one tripping another has started to become dull.

To your surprise, Omega has been made aware of the little collaboration between your wing and the band ahead of time, the nameless ghouls scattered around the church on alert and ready, heightening their senses and keeping an extra eye all the while remaining out of sight as they always do.

The ghouls who play do appreciate your attempt to warn them, the action itself taken as a show of trust and mutual understanding as far as you can tell. They are still wary around you, not giving away their trust or information about themselves so easily but progress is progress, that much you know from the horns, tails and the fangs they do not bother to conceal around you anymore.

It’s only after joining the church that you come to realize how dependent on phones you have become– seeing as to you are the only one you’ve spotted with a phone on their person.

It is handy though, you cannot be blamed for getting used to its perks.

Using mobile devices to forward reports to one another, no longer bothering to have a physical copy of any scans, not needing to look for any fellow colleagues– you need to learn the condition of a patient who has been transferred to a new department? Just call a doctor stationed there, it’s easy!

You never realize the importance of something until you have lost it after all.

Even for X-Ray graphics– and that is if someone’s condition requires such scan, trying to get it done is a chore on another level in itself; their way of display is old school.

Everything you have come to do here is like that, a true wake up call to your age, you can tell that much. This is no small village in the middle of nowhere yet with the existing opportunities, or their lack thereof, it sure feels like one.

When passing time becomes a new obstacle, you find yourself left with picking up hobbies long forgotten or reading.

The latter is more accessible, and with the upcoming requirement to answer any and everyone question down to its basics, no thanks to the ghouls, your chamber is loitered around with books of all kinds.

Unfortunately most of the medical books in the library archive are outdated.

Trying to rummage through those, you do find books looking a little too ancient, their focus often the spiritual and supernatural.

All in all, the pros of reading outweighs the cons– you make a mental note to make a request for more recent books for the medical wing though. If the clergy can afford all that for a band, they sure can spare a little for books.

A knock disturbs the silence of your chambers when you are reading a pathophysiology book, take note of the pages you hope can be understood by even the ghouls.

The answer to your “Yes?” is the door opening, revealing Space taking a step in, the usual beaked mask forgoed for the simpler ones you wear for the meetings.

Seeing your head deep in the book, she chuckles at the sight.

“Take a look at this bee. Were you always such a sweet, little, hardworking student?” The silence of the room stands out to you after hearing her honeyed voice fill the air.

“Only when I’m procrastinating.” You say with a smile, eyes not leaving the page.The sounds of her footsteps signal her approach.The bed dipping with a sudden input of weight, you can feel her settling down next to you, eyes still on the pages but the words have become a blur by now.

When you feel warmth radiating from her body, when her fingers lightly tap on your jaw, slowly tilting your face to hers.

When her lips make contact with your skin– there is a warmth to it different from any other kiss you’ve had before.

It feels odd though, to have her kiss you outside the chambers, on an usual night, without anything coursing through your veins, or hers, without the influence of anything you can pass off as an outside substance.

Space’s lips move from your jaw to your mouth with a pace she set herself, not rushing eagerly but not lingering too long either. Her lips move with precision, committing every little curve, dip and line of your lips– not too passionate but sensual enough that it surpasses a simple hook-up.

The hand she had on your jaw moves down slowly, dragging a finger through your clothes and widening the distance until the sound of your book being closed shut reaches your ears.

Back from the book, her hand returns to your chest, trailing patterns as she deepens her kiss, leaning into you further with each second.

A part of you is worried, raising a hand to put between you and her, on the ready– did they not say all is fair as long as nothing interferes with work though? Why should you deny yourself, and Space, this? It’s not like anything will change between the two of you after all… right?

One by one, each thought in your mind begins to blur, her presence as the only focus you have left remaining in your head, outside the quarters, she smells nothing like the chemicals reminding you of hospitals– only a sweet fragrance, dripping like honey, sweet nectar of myths, legends and of gods.

#fitcos #ghost band stuff #papa emeritus iii #i am reposting this pls accept my humble offering of 14k words this time it seems long only bc it is 6 chapters on ao3 #ghost x reader #ghost x you #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x you #papa 3 x you #papa 3 x reader #terzo x reader #terzo x you #ghost bc x reader #ghost bc x you #ghost fanfiction #terzo emeritus #terzo fanfic

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