Copia keeps a box under his bed filled to the brim with photographs. Precious few are from his childhood; most of those are of a little boy with black paint toddling after some unknown clergy member, taken by his mother. Even fewer are of his mother and father, but Copia did manage to find one of Nihil and Sister at the yuletide party the year Sister and Copia moved into the abbey (It's one of his favorite photos; his mother is mid-scream at Nihil). There's a sizeable chunk of photos with his brothers: Copia and Terzo at some horror movie premiere in 1989, Copia and his brothers around a DnD game, Copia and Primo in the garden, Secondo teaching Copia how to knot his ties for performances. He loves them dearly.
The majority of the box are from the tours. Copia made the mistake of giving his ghouls his old cameras and, in true ghoul fashion, they went absolutely berserk. Copia isn't sure when this photo of him was taken; there's no date on the back. But he cherishes it nonetheless because this photo, and every photo within this box, is proof that he has loved and has been loved.
And that is why, every Yule, Copia gifts the first year siblings a camera: so that they can create memories like he did, building their families and units as they go. And when they are older, like he is now, they can look through them and remember.
Reblogging is always appreciated! Please do not repost, post to other sites, claim as your own, or use without permission! 🖤
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Per Aspera Ad Influenza by nihil-denial
Papa Emeritus IV/Dewdrop/Swiss
Warnings: None, For all Ages
Tags: Sickfic, hurt/comfort, sharing a bed, dorks in love
WC: 4,052
It’s not often that human illnesses affect the demonic entities that play in the band Ghost. They are powerful, elemental beings stuffed into carbon-based forms of meat and bones and blood, but even the connections to the Underworld doesn’t save them from the viruses of humanity.
Papa Emeritus IV, a.k.a. Copia to those closest, was only half-infernal and was much more likely to fall ill while Ghost toured the world.
Mountain Ghoul was always ready with herbal teas and salves for whatever caused the singer to feel sick. It bonded Copia and the Earth Ghoul closer together since Mountain was already the heartbeat of the band.
This time, Copia wasn’t the one who needed a caring hand.
“Dewdrop! Stop hogging the bathroom!” Swiss pounds on the tour bus door after the fourth time the Fire Ghoul had slipped out of the living area to lock himself inside the small room. “I gotta piss and if you don’t finish, I’m gonna pee in the kitchen sink!”
Finally, there was a flush and the noise of the sink running. The overhead vent turns off just as the long-haired Ghoul opens the door and slips under Swiss’ arm. “Sorry,” He grumbles.
Swiss watches him unsteadily climb directly into his assigned top bunk and quickly shut the curtain. An uneasy feeling climbs up Swiss’ spine. Unlike the other Ghouls, Dewdrop almost never discloses when he’s feeling under the weather.
He thinks that Dew is scared they’re going to see him as weak.
Swiss momentarily disregards his need to pee. He steps over to the wall of bunks and carefully pulls back one of the panels where Dew puts his head. The Fire Ghoul’s typical Fireball-esque scent is a bit sour, but what’s causing it is immediately apparent.
None of the Ghouls are due for their heats until the next month during the Samhain, and as far as Swiss can tell, none of their pack have noticed Heat symptoms despite them being stuffed together on a bus.
“Fuck off,” Dew immediately turns onto his other side to escape his view. A little cough escapes his tightly-shut lips.
“Hey, I just wanted to see if you were feeling alright,” The Multi-Ghoul moves a strand of pale, blond hair off Dew’s pillow. “Sorry I rushed you.”
Dew’s body curls up tighter under his blanket. “I’m just tired. I’m trying to sleep before the ritual.”
“You sure? It’s okay if you’re sick.”
Dewdrop just nods, pressing more into his pillow.
Swiss knows a dismissal when he sees one. He’s not going to get any more out of the Fire Ghoul without a fight erupting between them. He sighs and closes the black out curtain.
Copia appears in the hallway just then, opening the door to the small bedroom at the back of the bus. “Good morning Swiss,” He says softly. He’s always aware of the possibility of his Ghouls resting in the bunks.
“Good morning, Papa,” Swiss glances at the closed curtain before meeting Copia’s mismatched eyes.
Copia follows and quirks an eyebrow. “Everything alright? Did Dew kick you out of bed again?”
Swiss opens his mouth but closes it when he realizes how Dewdrop could hear them. That would definitely cause an argument. He shakes his head and allows Copia to slide past him in the hallway. “Everything’s fine…I think.”
-
The last handful of hours before the group’s destination was spent packing their things to transition quickly to the hotel after the night’s ritual. Nobody wanted to pack their bunk after a three-hour performance.
Dewdrop is quiet, staying to himself except for when Papa calls them all to the living room to prep them about the venue. He clears his throat in the way an old lady would, though black tendrils of soot and smoke come from under his fist.
Thankfully, tonight was a stadium most of them had played on while Copia was a Cardinal, so they only had to catch Phantom and Aurora up to speed on the backstage layout.
The tour bus pulls up behind the large venue and the group is ushered off and into the building as cameras and people try to get shots of them.
Copia lets out a steadying breath as they’re guided to the three dressing rooms. ‘Still not used to all the cameras, heh,” He says to Dew quietly walking beside him.
Dewdrop shrugs and flips a chunk of hair over his shoulder. He escapes into the green room before Copia begins his usual spiel of how long they have until curtain.
The singer looks to the Multi-Ghoul for an explanation, but Swiss can only answer with a shrug. “Please make sure everything is alright with him,” Copia says quietly to Swiss as the group disperses.
Swiss takes the words into his heart and ignores the setup area for him to apply his black face paint. He beelines for the locked bathroom door, seeing that Phantom, Rain and Mountain are still filing into the room.
He knocks.
“Just a fuckin’ minute!” Comes the annoyed call from inside.
The Multi-Ghoul sighs. He decides to take the vanity closest to the bathroom and begins the process of tying up his locs to fit under his helmet. He’s able to get dressed, apply makeup, and even put on his tall boots before Dewdrop is stumbling out.
The small Ghoul’s t-shirt and jeans are soaked in sweat. His scent has somehow soured even more than it smelled earlier, resembling a rotten cinnamon plant. He takes the last vanity open, between Swiss and Mountain. He doesn’t say anything and begins his usual routine.
Mountain notices immediately. It would be impossible not to be in this small room. “You usually don’t sweat this much Dew.” He reaches a hand out to press against the Ghoul’s gray forehead when Dew recoils like Mountain is a stranger.
“Hey! Watch where you’re fucking touching!” He snarls, fangs bared.
“I’m just worried—”
“Worry about your own damn self for once, Mountain! I’m not sick, I’m not sweating more than usual, and I’m fucking fine.” A small plume of smoke curls from his mouth as he coughs into his fist. He avoids their concerned gazes in the connected mirrors, mopping his forehead with his t-shirt and changing into his Impera uniform.
Swiss watches uneasily. He can’t watch too much, or the Fire Ghoul’s anger will be directed towards him, but if he doesn’t watch enough, he’s scared he’s going to miss a tiny detail that will explain why Dew is feeling this way.
Kevin sticks his head through the doorway and calls for them to head backstage.
Dewdrop is just finishing putting his hair in tight plaits and pulling his balaclava over his head. He’s the last to leave, his right shoe still untied.
Ashley meets them at the backstage entrance, her checks over Copia’s sparkly outfit already completed. She rakes a keen eye over the eight Ghouls, her gaze landing on Dewdrop’s disheveled appearance. She crouches before he can, tying his shoes with ease. She also tightens the strap under his chin for his helmet, pausing so she can get a look at his eyes.
His mismatched blue and red eyes are bloodshot, teary and he has a miserable expression visible even as his face is covered.
She shakes her head, pulling away. “If you need something, just head backstage where Papa goes,” She says as low as she can. Ashley is that close to them to understand all the strange rules the Ghouls have with each other, but she can tell when one of them isn’t up to snuff (especially a Ghoul that usually holds himself with the utmost confidence). Whatever it is, it’s too late to deal with now.
He nods, gives her a grateful smile, and heads out on stage behind his packmates.
-
Copia notices something is really wrong right before the encore.
The house and stage lights have gone down so Copia can slip into his red encore jacket, and he takes a quick second to meet the gazes of each Ghoul as they trade instruments for the last three songs.
Everyone is tired but has the usual glow of excitement. Except for Dewdrop.
Kevin exchanges guitars with the Fire Ghoul and Dew immediately goes back to his mark rather than passing by Copia.
Thankfully, Dew is the last Ghoul back on, so he can catch up with him. His mic is back on the stand so there’s no need to worry about if the crowd can hear them over their cheers as Rain holds a bass note over the arena.
“Dew, you don’t look so hot,” Copia has to shout. The Ghoul looks more sweaty than usual and the smoke around his helmet isn’t the usual white of Swiss’ joints. It smells acrid, like a wildfire taking over a vineyard of sour grapes.
He shakes his helmet. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”
“Swiss looked like there was something bothering you—”
Dewdrop’s eyes are blazingly visible through the goggle lenses. “I’m fine, Papa. Let’s just finish the fucking concert and get to the hotel, okay?!”
Copia’s mouth snaps shut at the angry tone from his most beloved Ghoul. He wants to figure this out, but this is neither the time nor place for it. The crowd is actively getting louder in front of them as their eyes adjust to the lowlighting. “We’re talking about this after,” Copia squeezes Dewdrop’s shoulder before heading to center stage as the lights come back up.
Kiss the Go-Goat is first on set and Copia uses it to his advantage. When he saunters over to the Fire Ghoul to swing a hand between his legs and hug the Ghoul’s thigh, Copia focuses on his gut instinct to feel what’s going on with Dewdrop.
He smells like sweat (of course, they’re performing) and a soured, high smell far off from his typical scent. Copia doesn’t have enough time to ponder it anymore as he releases Dew’s legs and moves back to his position.
They finish the three encore songs and line up together for final bows. Swiss makes sure to press himself on Dew’s left when he puts himself on the end of the row.
They bow once.
They bow twice; and when their heads face downward, Dewdrop sneezes so hard his helmet shakes and the white covering for horn pops off.
An echo of ‘bless you’ and ‘gesundheits’ come from the fans at the barrier. Dewdrop uses his dirty guitar rag to wipe under his mask as the group makes their way backstage. It further smears the sweaty black face paint and rubs on the conditioning oil from the fretboard.
Mountain’s sharp ears detect the latest cough and suddenly there’s a large hand grasping Dew’s shoulder and stopping him from fleeing into the bathroom. “Dewdrop.”
“Let me go, motherfucker,” Dewdrop snaps nasally. It draws the attention of the rest of the Ghouls and even Copia. “I’m fine!”
“No you aren’t. You’ve been coughing, sneezing, and now even your voice sounds stuffy,” Swiss steps forward.
Dewdrop glares at him through his goggles. “Stop prying!”
Rain uses his most gentle voice, one that never fails to tame the Fire Ghoul’s brattiest episodes. Maybe it’s just their connection as Water Ghouls that makes Dewdrop fold so easily to his voice. “Droplet, we just want to make sure you’re okay. You don’t look healthy and I’m concerned you’re neglecting yourself.”
“Neglecting myself? Like a pathetic little kit? No way. Like I told this brute of an Earth Ghoul, I’m perfectly fine and strong.”
“I didn’t say anything about your strength,” Rain says.
Dewdrop’s helmet passes over all eight concerned gazes, even Ashley and Kevin standing a bit away with the rack of guitars. “Fine. I’ve been sick with some pathetic little human cold for the past couple nights and it hasn’t gone away and now I’m going to ruin the tour so thank you very much for exposing this.” His lower lip wobbles and the heartbreaking sound of a sniffle comes from under his mask.
Copia cocks his head, “Why would this ruin the tour?”
“I see those posts from artists that cancel shows because one of the players is sick. I see the disappointed comments from fans, the loss of revenue,” The Fire Ghoul snaps.
“Dew, we don’t have another ritual for three days. That’s plenty of time to use Quintessence and medicine to heal you. Not to say you should’ve worked through this illness without any help, but you’re a Ghoul. There are plenty of ways we could’ve given you rests on stage,” Copia rubs Dewdrop’s back.
Dew makes a noise close to a whimper. “Can we just get to the hotel already?”
Copia guides Dew back to the male Ghoul’s dressing room. Once seated, Dew bats away Copia’s hands. “Go pack up, Papa. I can do this on my own.”
The singer hesitates until Swiss and Mountain give him a nod. He leaves with one final squeeze to Dew’s arm.
Swiss takes a knee in front of the Fire Ghoul’s chair. “Give me your foot.”
“I don’t need to be babied just because I’m sick.”
He shrugs, “Maybe I just wanna suck your toes. Gimme.”
Dew can’t help the small laugh that comes at the tail-end of his smoke-filled cough. He lets Swiss quickly unlace and undo his boots, setting them aside. Socks, then helmet, hood, and wig cap are next. Rain steps up behind him and lets down the blonde braids, undoing them but tying a loose ponytail to keep the hair off Dew’s sweaty forehead. He wipes off the grease and makeup with a cloth while Swiss unbuckles Dew’s waistcoat.
He’s stripped and put in sweats, a shirt, and flip flops then ushered onto the tour bus without lifting a finger. Ashley and the Ghouls clear the dressing room and pack things under the bus.
With everyone packed up, the group settles on the bus for the two hour trip to the hotel. They would’ve gotten one closer, but this one is perfectly between this arena and the next stadium.
Dew accepts a to-go tumbler of tea from Mountain and retreats to the Earth Ghoul’s bunk for snuggles until they arrive.
-
Hotel rooms are usually split with three Ghouls to a room, with one of them sharing with Copia. This time the schedule was Swiss, Dew, Copia; Cirrus, Cumulus, Rain; and the last room being Mountain, Phantom, Aurora.
Copia doles out the key cards and looks to where Dew is sitting on a lobby couch with Phantom pressed into his side. “Mountain, would you come with me to the store to get some medication?”
“All of us want to come!” Aurora proclaims from her place between Cirrus and Cumulus. “We want to make sure we get the right medicine for Dew.”
The singer sighs, knowing he can’t resist the Ghouls’ puppy dog gazes, even while still helmeted. He waves them towards the elevators, “We need to change first. There’s no need to drag cameras and paparazzi around.” He eyes the waiting crowd by the hotel entrance.
They agree and pile into the mirror-encased elevator. Dew sags against Mountain’s strong grip, falling asleep standing up until he’s wracked with a smoky cough. Thankfully all of their rooms are grouped together on one of the higher levels, so there’s not many other guests that will bother them (or be bothered by a bratty, sick Fire Ghoul).
Everyone splinters off to unpack and change. Copia holds open the door for Swiss and Dewdrop, then wrangles their three suitcases inside. “I think a shower will do you good. That’s what helps me,” He nods to the spacious bathroom.
Dewdrop must be really bad off to not complain and simply walk in and start the shower.
Swiss shoots Copia a worried look.
Copia sighs, stepping into the bathroom, “Dew, what are your illness symptoms? Swiss will stay here with you while we go to the store.”
“You don’t need to risk the paparazzi for me--” He tries.
“Nuh uh, we’re getting you medicine. Symptoms, please.”
He can see the outline of Dew standing under the steamy spray through the frosted curtain. “Cough, sore throat, stuffy nose, body aches.”
Copia types them into the text field to send to Mountain. “Good, good. Do you like a certain flavor of electrolyte drinks?”
“Red.”
He pauses typing the next message. “What the fuck kind of flavor is red?”
“I don’t know the name, it’s just fucking red,” Dew snaps.
Copia sighs, “Okay, I’ll figure out whatever the hell that means. Anything else?”
It takes a moment, but just over the rustle of the shower and the sound of Swiss watching tv comes the timid request, “...Can I have some beef jerky?”
The Anti-Pope’s posture softens. He has to remember that through all the brattiness and backlashing is a scared Ghoul who believes he’ll be sent away if he’s too sick to perform. “Of course. I’ll change and then we’ll get you things to make you feel better, alright?”
Dew pokes his head around the shower curtain. “Thanks, Papa.” He looks like a pathetic, drowned rat.
Copia presses a kiss to his wet forehead. It leaves a smeared gray stain. “Oops. Good thing you’re in the shower,” He grins.
Those mismatched red and blue eyes cross as he looks up to his forehead. An affectionately pissed off frown crosses his lips. “Get out, you old perv. I’m trying to jack off.”
Copia laughs and shuts the bathroom door as he leaves. “I think the shower is helping him.”
Swiss looks over from where he’s sitting on the corner of the large king-sized bed. There’s a documentary about some type of ocean animal playing on the tv. “Snappy?”
“A bit, but less than earlier.” Copia hefts his suitcase onto the stand and pulls out one of his favorite red Adidas track suits. He changes and does his best to ignore the amber eyes hungrily watching him. He wipes off his papal paint with a makeup remover wipe. He pulls on his “Dad” sneakers and holds out his arms for Swiss to look him over.
“Congrats, you look like a douchebag father and not a compassionate Satanic pope,” Swiss snickers. The shower turns off. “Shoo, I want Dewdrop cuddles.”
Copia grabs his wallet and leaves with a smile on his face.
-
Tiffani has seen a lot of bullshit during her time as a night clerk at the CVS on Azalea Avenue. She isn’t fazed by anything anymore, and the police that would respond to her getting robbed are hanging out in the Bojangles parking lot next door. Tonight is another boring, muggy night at her part-time summer job.
She doesn’t even look up when the doors shuffle apart for a visitor. However, when she hears the large amount of chatter, she looks up just to see that it’s not a full group of gang members coming to hit this CVS like the one on the other side of town last month.
It’s a gang…but not one that’s going to rob her.
Coming through the doors are the weirdest group of people she’s ever seen. There’s a normal looking white dude in a tracksuit, then six people dressed in all black with steampunk-inspired goggle helmets. They vary in body size and height, but all of their helmets are identical.
They shuffle inside, looking around at the signs hung over each aisle.
Suddenly, they’re all looking at her as the normal guy approaches the counter. “Scusi , miss, where do you find illness medicine?”
Well, he looks normal until she sees that he has one normal green eye and one that is devoid of an iris, simply a black pupil in a sea of white. His nervous demeanor makes her a little less freaked out, but the odd name for cold medicine brings that feeling right back. Is this guy human?
“Like for the flu?” She asks dumbly.
The guy looks to the tallest of the cult members, who nods. “The Influenza, yes.”
She points to aisle ten, “It’s down at the far end.”
The guy waves his cult members in that direction. As they walk away, Tiffani can hear them chirp and chatter to each other in the same way cats do when they see birds out a window.
It takes them only a few moments before the group is heading back towards the counter, a pack of Sudafed and Mucinex medication in the tallest cult member’s hands. In two of the shorter, possibly female members’ hands are a total of eight different colors of Gatorade, then three large packs of beef jerky in the skinniest member’s hands.
Tiffani actually gets a bit excited because buying Sudafed means she’ll have to check one of their IDs. Maybe she’ll get a name and can look these guys up to see what weird cult they’re a part of.
The white guy takes the medication from the helmeted guy and sets them on the counter. The others set theirs too.
She scans them both. “Can I see a form of ID?”
His eyebrows furrowed together. “ID? Why does medicine require a driver’s license?”
“People use Sudafed to make meth, so the store requires us to make sure people aren’t buying too much,” She says and takes his offered identification.
STATE OF MASSACHUSETTS
Copia Samael Emeritus, IV
Born June 6, 1970
Height 5’11”
Eye color L BLIND, R GRN
So he’s not wearing contacts, he just has a blind eye. He’s just some dude.
He pays for the medicine with a credit card that has a design of an upside down cross with a semicircle around its intersecting lines.
“Do you want a bag?” She asks. It’s a lot of things for them to carry.
The tall cult member behind him coughs out an immediate, “NO.”
“Yes, it’s better to not use single-use plastics, no thank you, dear,” The human man says. He takes the two boxes of medication and the long receipt from her. The others come forward and grab their respective items, then shuffle off towards the exit.
Tiffani is immediately pulling out her phone texting her best friend as soon as the doors shut behind them.
Dude I think I just saw aliens!!!
-
“We’re back!” Copia calls as he opens the door to his shared hotel room. The Ghouls shuffle in and place their items at the foot of the bed, acting as if they were special offerings to an altar like they do at the Ministry.
Dew blinks awake from his spot pressed into Swiss’ collarbone. “Hey guys,” He croaks.
Mountain rounds the side of the bed, cracking open a Fruit Punch-flavored Gatorade and one blister pack of Sudafed. “Here, Firelilly. Sip carefully.”
“Shit we forgot tissues!” Aurora cries. “I was supposed to grab them! I’m so sorry, Dew.”
The Fire Ghoul gives her a weak smile after he swallows the pills. “It’s okay, Rory.”
Copia puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We can get them delivered to the front desk. No worries, it’s been a long day for everyone. Please rest. I’ll see all of you at breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant at 9:30am tomorrow morning.”
They all give some sort of comfort touch to the Fire Ghoul and separate to their own hotel rooms. Copia kicks off his shoes and strips down into just his VVLGARI shirt and briefs. He puts all the medicine and drinks on Swiss’ nightstand, then climbs into bed, sandwiching Dewdrop between them.
“Come here, piccolo,” He says softly. “I’m not upset that you’re sick, and you’re most definitely not going to be banished. Soon, we’ll be back at the Ministry and Aether will tell you how brave you are, just like I am right now.”
Dewdrop sniffles (whether from illness or tears, he won’t comment), and carefully nestles into Copia’s chest. Swiss brackets him from the other side.
Swiss’ connection to Quintessence will keep Copia from getting sick and his fireside will help the medication to sink into Dew’s Fire energy.
Tomorrow he should be feeling one step closer to his normal self, but for tonight, Copia enjoys the way Dew clings to him, safe and vulnerable.
“I love you, Papa,” Dew whispers.
A soft purr vibrates through his chest from the mingling contentment of his Ghouls.
“ Ti amo , Dew and Swiss.”
.
View incredible fanart of this fic here!
Fanart inspired by the wonderful fanfic Per Aspera Ad Influenza by nihil-denial.
@nihildenial , if you’re seeing this, I just want to say I
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