Why Is He So Hawt?

A rough day

(mean, insulting, Kevin hates the ghouls)

Kevin hates the ghouls.

Not because he's afraid of them, no, on the contrary, you can't have less respect for them than Kevin. He just thinks they're annoying little beasts, like particularly vicious chihuahuas from hell.

Dewdrop, Phantom and Rain especially get on his nerves. Phantom because he's always clinging to Kevin like a leech. Dewdrop because he's a nasty little gremlin who just causes chaos that Kevin then has to clean up. And Rain isn't actually that bad but he isn't good at speaking human language that Kevin usually doesn't understand what the water ghoul is stammering anyway. Not that he would care anyway.

Well, Kevin could speak ghoulish if he wanted to, but in the end these pests would annoy him even more.

The worst is when he has to fix something in the ghoul wing. For example, the other day, when he just wanted to clean the clogged drain in the kitchen sink, he was surrounded by ghouls within a few minutes. They reminded him of a bunch of starving cats, the way they stalked around him and cast curious glances over his shoulder. Phantom was immediately glued to him again, practically tugging at Kevin's hair and clothes.

Then Aether, who kept his distance but intermittently gave advice that Kevin hadn't asked for.

"You should unscrew the drain pipe first" and "are you sure you've mixed the cleaning concentrate sufficiently? Otherwise it could damage the pipes."

Kevin wanted to hit Aether in the face. But instead he contented himself with glaring at the sink while he worked.

At one point he accidentally hit Rain's forehead with his knee because Rain was squeezing himself on the floor between him and the bucket that Kevin had used to catch all the muck from the drainpipe. With an annoyed look, Kevin noticed that the water ghoul had started collecting small pieces that had landed in the drainpipe from the bucket.

"Stop that! You're just making everything dirty," he growled as Rain pulled his hands back and placed a marble, dripping with dirt, on the ground. Rain just babbled incomprehensible things as he began to dig in the muck again. "Why are u so rude to Rainy?" whispered Phantom and came so close to Kevin that he felt the ghoul's warm breath brushing over his ear.

Kevin sighed with the burden of a man who would rather tend a sack full of fleas than a handful of ghouls. Why couldn't the clergy have chosen other demons? There were many species that were less unruly than ghouls. Kevin even had the feeling that ghouls not only enjoyed the chaos, but that they actually drew their energy from it. He had once expressed this thought to sister Imperator, but she had just laughed at him and said that he just had to learn to assert himself. That could only come from someone who didn't have to deal with these plagues on a daily basis.

Annoyed, Kevin stuck the spiral into the drain to push out the last bit of dirt, while at the same time swatting away Rain's fingers that had appeared on the edge of the sink.

Since Copia had risen to the top of the ministry and had a bit more say, Kevin was no longer even allowed to sprinkle holy water on the ghouls to keep them away. After all, that would hurt the ghouls, the youngest Emeterius brother had explained his decision. Simply ridiculous. When Kevin had started working for the clergy, ghouls had just been treated like ghouls. But since Copia had shown up here, Kevin had to treat these creatures as if they had more feelings than lust, hunger and thirst.

Finally, the resistance in the drain was released and with a slap, a pile of mud landed in the bucket. "Is that...sand?" asked Aether, astonished. Kevin shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "How do I fucking know what kind of crap you always pour down the drain?!" He pulled the spiral back and knelt under the sink to screw the pipe back on. Phantom also knelt down next to him and grabbed one of Kevin's long strands of hair to chew on. "I'm clearly not being paid well enough for this," the brown haired growled, shooing back first Phantom and then Rain, whose hand had already disappeared back into the bucket. Under the curious gaze of the ghouls, Kevin screwed the pipe back on, sat up with his aching back and picked up the bucket. "Would be nice if you could just stop breaking or clogging anything for more than three days," Kevin grumbled, looking sternly at Aether. The quint had spent the last few minutes watching with his hands on his hips and a critical expression. "I'm doing my best, but you know what they're like." Kevin only snorted in response. He watched as Aether disappeared into the living room before he turned to leave. The ghoul was talking to Kevin as if they were eye to eye. Kevin shook his head. Ghouls.

He was about to close the door behind him when Rain slithered through and tugged at his sleeve. His big blue eyes bored into his. "What?" Kevin asked slightly suprised.

Rain's mouth opened and closed a few times without any words coming out. Then, finally, when Kevin's already extremely thin thread of patience was about to snap, Rain managed to say a word. "Encore."

He had always thought that Rain simply didn't speak human language, but apparently the ghoul was just dumb. In a good-natured tone, as if he was talking to someone particularly retarded, Kevin replied. "I know you did a great job on the film. We're all very proud of you. But I," he pointed to himself, "have to go now," he pointed to the door. Rain tilted his head, confused.

He's probably doing this so that the few brain cells he has will slip into the same corner, Kevin thought spitefully.

The water ghoul tugged at his sleeve again, this time more frantically. "Encore! Encore! Encore! Dew!" Confused, Kevin turned around and froze. Dewdrop stood at the sink and calmly poured a thick liquid into it. Kevin now also noticed the penetrating smell of ammonia.

This fucking little shit poured wall paint into the sink.

Kevin just stared at him. The man was too stunned to even utter a word. He definitely needed a bottle of whiskey tonight. Better yet, two. And brandy. A lot of it.

Seriously. Why do they think all women want a short ass tee? I went to 4 different stores (I'm not counting TJ Maxx as their selection is hideous) before I found 2 tops. I've lost 50 pounds at this point. It. Shouldn't. Be. This. Hard. To. Find. Something. That. Fits.

For fear that you'll find out (I'm imagining you)

Kinktober day 7: Hate sex/Quintnosis

Rating: Explicit

Relationship(s): Aether/Dewdrop

Words: 1,820

Tags: Quintnosis, hate sex (sorta), irresponsible and unintended use of quintessence, dubious consent, sexual fantasies, aggressive making out, dirty talk, degradation, Aether's got some morally dubious internal dialogue, shame

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Heated emotions had outweighed rational thought when Aether seized the water ghoul by the arm and spun him around before he could reach the door. He hadn’t grabbed him with any sort of plan in mind, just a growl rattling in his chest. Dew tried to jerk away but Aether held him firm enough there’d be bruises muddying his pale skin. He’d hissed but the sound died when his back hit the door a little too hard. Aether often forgot his own strength but this had been intentional. 

Months.

Aether had put up with Dew and his infuriating behavior for fucking months. He had considered himself a patient man before his summoning but Dew had seemingly been sent by the unholy father to test that belief—a test he’d failed the second he laid hands on him. Could only bite his tongue for so long. Up until that moment he had been dutifully playing the role of the bigger person, refusing to give Dew the reaction he apparently craved but something about this little water ghoul cracked his resolve. 

It was a miracle he’d lasted that long at all but he’d reached the limit, Aether couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

He hadn’t grabbed Dew with any real intention. Maybe to scare him. Maybe finally lay into him about his shitty attitude. He could say with confidence he never meant to grab him by the collar and kiss him but that was exactly what he’d done. 

Aether had kissed Dew like he sought to snuff out the belligerent defiance within him. Like he could bruise the lesson of ‘stop fucking with me’ into his lips. If anything, he’d force Dew to taste the depths of his frustrations. 

Dew squawked when Aether’s mouth pressed to his, startled sound muffled into a kiss fueled by something violent. It certainly tasted like it was—the faint metal taste teasing the tip of his tongue. His lip was a casualty to Aether’s unfiled fangs. The water ghoul had tried to shove him away with as much force as his little body could muster but Aether was bigger. He tried to pull back but he was pressed to the door, stuck between a rock and a hard place. All he could do was clutch at the front of his uniform.

Another disgruntled noise died off in his throat, breath hitching when Aether licked over his bottom lip. He hesitated. Tension brought his shoulders towards his ears. Made him hold Aether tighter. Uncertainty turned his scent sharp but the unmistakable smell of sea salt pervaded the air to overshadow it entirely. Another swipe over the seam of his mouth and Dew jolted. His death grip on starched fabric started to go loose as his lips reluctantly parted to allow him inside.

Collar released, Aether’s big hands settled on the sides of his neck, tips of his fingers pressing into the ticklish baby hairs at the nape before one slid fully into silky pale hair. It was as soft as it looked. Easy to pull himself through, easier to get a hold of. He didn’t plan on pulling, but so far ‘plans’ were not working out for Aether. It was up in the air if he would, if Dew deserved it or not.

Dew had become surprisingly pliant with so little fight. Aether expected to be torn to shreds but Dew made absolutely no moves to do so. No more sounds of protest, just a single little whine that made something in Aether’s brain itch. Whatever Dew was doing couldn’t exactly be considered kissing back. His lips were barely moving. Really just allowing Aether to take.

Cheek pressed to the smooth cool wood, his arm twisted further in an odd uncomfortable angle behind his back, face screwing up. His gills fluttered with his labored groan, the bigger ghoul forcing him to deepen the already exaggerated arch of his spine. The worn pads of thick fingers circled over the ring of muscle, barely pushed against it. Just enough to feel the resistance. 

”Fuckin’ water ghouls…Freaks, the lot of ya, Ifrit was right.” Aether chuckled against the shell of his ear, ice water dripping down his spine. “You get wet like this arguing with me, puddle? I see why it’s all you do.” 

“It’s not—Stop it.” He whimpered sadly as Aether pressed the tip of his middle finger inside of him. A small preview of the stretch he’ll feel. Despite his objection his little cock kicked between his thighs, pearling at the tip. 

“That’s not what you want, froggy.” He cooed, nipping at his fin to make him yip. “Not what that cute little thing wants either.” The spade of his tail trailed up his inner thigh sending goosebumps rippling over him, point tickling against the seam of his balls as it continued to drift along the underside of his dick. 

He shuddered, eyes threatening to roll back as Aether worked deeper inside of him. Barely finished with one finger before he was forcing in another despite the wounded sound and the way he struggled, immediately searching for that spot that would send him keening and finally shut him up.

”Quit the crocodile tears, I know you’ve taken more than this. Know you’ve let Mountain and Ifrit have you again, and again, and again—“ Aether pressed into it and his knees wobbled, petting over it in time with his accusation. “Take it like a good boy.”

”Oh s-shit, fuck, too thick. Hurts.” 

The quint ghoul laughed meanly. Close to cruel, something he was not often. He started to scissor his fingers in an action that bordered on torturously slow. Savoring how he wept, pained and pleasured but purely wrecked sounds ripped out of him. 

“Bitching this much on just my fingers, how’re you gonna take my cock froggy?”

”Your…No, no, Aether, it’s gonna-“

”Gonna what? Break you? Oh, Dewdrop, I’m just plannin’ on getting you nice and used to this cock.” His tongue flicked out and licked his gills open in a quick motion, grinning against his neck as he choked on his breath. 

He whispered into his opened throat in a way that felt equally hot and disturbing. “Not gonna want anyone else after I’m done,” a third finger to emphasize his point. “Ooooh no you won’t…Mountain and Ifrit won’t be able to satisfy you when I’m done, gonna have you crawling back for it.”

His mouth dropped open, helpless to the way Aether absolutely set to unravel him by rubbing circles into his prostate. He knew he was dripping down his wrist.

”So grit your teeth baby boy, I’ll teach you how to love the pain.”

Aether broke away from Dew abruptly, threads of saliva stretching and snapping between them. It felt like being submerged into molasses and then doused with ice water. He almost couldn’t process what he’d seen, what Dew was hiding behind the apparent act of disdain. It didn’t make sense. He had a plethora of questions and a couple of accusations but the water ghoul met his apparent shock with drooping, glassy eyes. His lips parted, kissed cherry red and sucked puffy. He looked fucked out but most notably, he appeared vacant. 

He’d have asked what the fuck was wrong with him if the answer was not staring him in the face. Specks of violet floating in the pale waters of his eyes. Flower petals drifting in a whirlpool, swirling and dancing before disappearing behind the blown out voids of his pupils. 

Alarm bells sounded in his head, confirming to him he had indeed fucked up. 

Now, not distracted by the taste of honey on Dew’s tongue, he could feel the magic seeping from him. Tendrils outstretched and invasive. Burrowed where they did not belong in the depths of Dew’s subconscious, showing Aether images not meant for his eyes. This had never happened before. Quintessence was still new to him and like an untrained animal, he had difficulty keeping it leashed. In his fit not only did rationality escape him but control as well. 

Still holding Dew’s now lolling head up, Aether shifted his fingers to his temples but paused. It was his turn to hesitate in acting. He simply tipped his face up towards him and stared at the water ghoul’s dreamy expression. Dew was…Pretty, a fact easy to forget when all he did was behave like literal hell spawn. He was prettier with the quintessence threatening to consume the blue in his eyes. Thinking too hard about that image made his pants uncomfortably tighter. 

He shook his head. Rid himself of the thought enough to focus on the act of unweaving himself from the inner workings of Dew’s brain without dislodging anything important. Omega had always told him to leave things how he found it after all. Withdrawing was harder than entering. Backtracking through a maze. It was like Dew’s subconscious didn’t want to let him or his influence go—too content to be suspended in the warm fuzzy feeling, like he never wanted Aether to give him autonomy back. 

Aether hissed through his teeth. He should have felt sick with himself for the thought's existence alone, let alone the fact he’d deigned to entertain it. Part of him did. Something darker coiled around him with the promise of satisfaction but Aether stuffed it down. Focused himself. 

Dew blinked dumbly at him as the quintessence released its hold on him. He could watch clarity trickle back in. Artificial bliss quickly turned to a dazed sort of confusion.

“Uhn-huh…?” 

His gaze flicked left to right and finally landed on Aether’s face. “You.” Dew’s eyes widened and narrowed in quick succession, tone rightfully critical. Couldn’t miss the pink dusting and darkening his cheeks though. He shoved at Aether again, Aether allowed Dew the distance this time. “Keep your hands off me, and stay the fuck out of my head.” 

Like that, Dew stormed out. Slammed the door so hard it rattled in its frame. 

Aether however was stuck in his own stupor, heart hammering violently in his chest. Scenes replayed in his head. He couldn’t stop them if he tried. Literal fucking brain worms that had him shamefully chubbing up. Shame barely covered it. He should have been mortified, more so when his hand wandered south to press against himself through his zipper. 

It all made sense to him now. 

Dew had wanted a reaction the whole time, just not the reaction Aether thought. Little shit had aimed to break his patience and hoped Aether would break him in turn. He was a fucking pervert if Aether ever saw one—and maybe he wasn’t any better, stood stupefied and embarrassingly hard, stroking himself blatantly in the middle of the room with his gaze fixed on the door. Couldn’t stop himself from picturing Dew there, the way he’d imagined himself at Aether’s mercy. 

If that was what Dew wanted, he’d teach him the lesson he’d apparently craved to learn.

Poor little old man

Was Dew wearing a medical boot? Glad that you had a great show!!

Yes! On his left foot. He fractured his foot/ankle. It was hard to hear what papa said. And yes it was absolutely amazing.

Mushy May Day 15

Painting on each other

Pairing; Dewdrop/Aeon

Notes; Welcome to the halfway point! Aeon uses they/them pronouns. thanks as always to @forlorn-crows for the prompts list!

Aeon was always mesmerized by all the ghoul’s tattoos. From Rain’s tiny one’s to Dew’s extravagant pieces, they decided early on into their earth life that they needed to join the club. The nights they were wrapped around someone else’s limbs, they’d trace and map out the ink lines that ran down their partner’s arms and body, committing them to memory.

Their problem, as they’ve confided to Dewdrop on multiple occasions, was how they wanted their tattoos. Any meaning behind them was easy, it was the placement. Looks. They didn’t want to travel so far out of the abbey to a tattoo parlor just to regret the placement. So when Dew found an ad for them, he hatched an idea.

“Star?” Dew knocked on the door, hands behind his back. When he got a murmur of confirmation, he stepped into the room and met the eyes of a very sleepy ghoul, still waking up.

“What time is it?” Aeon slurred and squinted up at Dew.

“It is…” Dew peeked over at the clock and smiled, “it is one in the afternoon.”

Aeon sat up in bed with a disgruntled groan, stretching out their arms. They murmured a quiet curse at the time and stared him down.

“Did I miss something?” They ran their eyes down his figure and pouted, pointing towards him. “What are you hiding?”

“A gift.” He strutted over with a playful sway in his hips until he was standing right beside them. “For you.”

Their pout grew suspicious and tilted their head. “Why’d you do that?”

He shrugged with an easy smile. “Thought you’d like it. Could be a bonding thing for us.”

“Is it a sex thing?” They questioned.

He laughed and shook his head, bending down just slightly in the process. “No, bug, it’s not a sex thing. Here.”

He pulled his arms out from behind him and with a healthy pause in between, Aeon’s eyes lit up and they gasped dramatically, no longer sleepy. They made grabby hands for the product and Dew could never deny the quint anything.

“Holy shit!” They held the pack of tattoo markers with a grip that could rival Aether’s, turning the package around to further inspect. “These are awesome!”

“You know about them?” Dewdrop couldn’t stop smiling.

“Well, no,” Aeon faltered just slightly but began ripping into the cardboard with the same enthusiasm as before, “but I do now!”

Dew sat down right next to them and continued to watch as they kicked their blankets away to set their prize down. Once the pack was fully dumped out, they grabbed the black marker and paused.

“What’s up, buggy?” Dew tilted his head as they worried their lip between the teeth. Their gaze flickered between the marker, Dew’s arms, and Dew’s eyes. He could already see the question.

“Can I try them on your arm?” They asked, eyes wide.

Dew’s smile grew wider and he grabbed a marker of his own. “Only if I can draw on your leg.”

“Deal.” Aeon uncapped the marker and took Dew’s arm into their hands, a plan already brewed and steeped. Dew used his free hand and pushed their shorts out of his way as he began the same process.

They both left the room an hour later covered in half hearted doodles and ideas. Aeon showed Dewdrop a tentative sketch of what they wanted and with careful consideration and drawing, the two found a perfect spot for it. Dew was covered in swirls of black and blue, a rogue bat or rabbit or any other animal scattered across his skin. Aside from the, what Aeon called "the perfect tattoo," they were covered in geometric shapes, things that Dewdrop has been experimenting with in terms of design.

Seeing the smile on the young quint’s face as they examined the ink with Swiss, who awed and oo'ed at their markings, he knew they’d be doing this again soon.

Your beauty never ever scared me

Mushy may prompt list by the wonderful @forlorn-crows

Divider by the lovely @ghuleh-recs

(also if you haven't checked out @autumnblooms art, you should! Their Phantom/Aeon/bug is always the way I picture him in my head 🖤🖤🖤)

Day 15: painting on each other. Swiss/Aeon

Swiss sits back, glancing down at the bare expanse of Aeon's back. He's settled across the back of his thighs, the Quint stripped down to nothing, the warm spring sun peeking through the curtains, wanting a chance to taste the nighttime sky for himself.

Swiss dips his finger into the gold paint beside him, shifting his hips to reach the base of Aeon's neck, the little starburst mark that trickles down into galaxies. Swiss knows them all, has traced every single inch of him, had tasted each one.

He watches Aeon smile when he touches him, when he paints down along his spine, leaving the knobby path to the side, to trail over a light patch, to add color, his color, to Aeon's body.

Swiss bites his lip when he thinks about it, how he likes to believe Lucifer left spots blank on Aeon simply so Swiss could fill the space, so he could blend into him, to mark him as his, a claim so beautiful it belonged in a museum.

He traces his lightning, the electric storm that surges through his veins, decorates the midnight sky of Aeons back, bolts of lightning to bring out the starlight freckles. He weaves delicate trails like his smoke, little wisps to curl around and connect the constellations.

Aeon glances back over his shoulder, a little smirk pulling at his lips. "I'm chilly."

He knows he's not, knows he's burning hot but he's hungry for touch and Swiss would never deny a request from Aeon's lips. He presses forward, plants his chest against Aeon's back, the still wet paint smearing between them, two canvases making one masterpiece.

"Better?" He kisses his shoulder, tastes gold paint and lightning and starlight and Aeon.

He wiggles until Swiss let's him turn over, until they are chest to chest, neither caring about the paint on the sheets. It doesn't matter when Aeon can feel Swiss' heart against his, when he can feel each breath add a little more color to his skin. He glances down, looks along the line of the bodies pressed together, the way the paint looks on him versus how it looks on Swiss.

Colors, their colors, blended and beautiful, swirling together like the knots that weave their souls.

He smiles and kisses him, watches color flood Swiss cheeks, watches the gold of his eyes fill with fire.

"I am now."

He charged the hell out of that ass slap

Video Credits: fake_ghost_girl

Pressing Matters

Marge the Cleaning Lady tells the others what she saw.

(Part of the Light a Candle 'verse)

It was too crowded, too noisy, and too smoky for his taste. He couldn’t even remember why he agreed to this in the first place, especially since there were more pressing matters on his mind at the moment. Oh, right, band obligations and all that. The ever-present fans. Granted, it is not nearly as crazy as it was back in the heyday, but still, the ever-pressing crush of the devoted was enough to wear thin on the patience of even the most unflappable. Sometimes he would like to just be able to walk into a bar and order a pint and be able to enjoy it in peace. ‘Yeah right,’ he thought to himself, ‘those days are long gone.’

Scanning the room as he raised the glass to his lips, he only half listened to the conversation droning on around him. There. There she was. She pushed a long strand of chestnut hair behind her ear as she leaned in to better hear the conversation of the person with her. Whatever they were talking about must have been amusing for a smile lit up her features. Taking another drink, he continued to watch the woman.

Emma had the distinct feeling of being watched, even in the crowded room. She finished up her conversation with the keyboard player and moved off. She could still feel his eyes on her as she made her way to the bar. She leaned back against the bar, sipping on the glass of wine she had ordered. He was still watching her. His dark brown eyes never left her face even as he raised his glass to his lips. The ring on his finger caught her attention and a wicked smile broke across her face.

Roger had just raised his glass to his lips when the woman across the room said something to him.

“I’m not wearing any underclothes,” silently she mouthed to him from across the room.

Emma knew actually what she was doing. She knew that years behind the drum kit had allowed him to read her lips and to ‘hear’ her as if she was standing next to him. She raised an eyebrow and waited for his response.

Roger choked on the drink he just took.

“Hey, man! You alright?” John asked as he pounded Roger on the back in an attempt to help his friend.

“I’d be better if you would stop beating on me,” he replied. “Excuse me. I have something to attend to.”

“Yeah, sure man. Whatever.” The words were said to Roger’s retreating back. John just shook his head and turned back to the conversation at hand.

He met her halfway across the room.

“You are a very naughty girl.”

“Do you really care?” She asked as she leaned in, her lips against his ear. “How long do you think it would be before they noticed we were missing?” She whispered before he felt the pointed tip of her tongue delicately tracing the outline of his ear.

Roger pulled back and searched her face. He was surprised at this turn of events for Emma was not one really big on public displays.

“Well, how long?” She asked again.

He looked at her, a smile crossing his face.

“Long enough,” he replied, taking her hand and leading her from the bar. He didn’t even acknowledge Simon when the other man tried to gain their attention.

“Wonder where they are in a rush to.”

“Simon leave them be. They are still newlywed. You remember what that was like, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah baby,” Simon answered his wife, his eyes glazing over at the thought.

**~~**

The taxi ride back to the hotel was the longest one in Roger’s life. It was all he could do to keep from throwing her down on the seat and having his way with her. ‘Be a hell of a show for the cab driver,’ he thought as his hand slowly inched its way up her leg. He was determined to see if what she had said at the bar was true or not. He leaned in and she felt his feathery kisses along her collarbone.

“Stop,” she moaned as his calloused fingers blazed a trail toward her center. “Roger, stop.” She gasped as she felt his warm tongue on her neck.

“Why?”

“We do have an audience,” she said breathlessly, motioning towards the cab driver.

“What?”

“Cab driver.”

Roger’s head popped up from where he had been tracing his initials on the soft skin of her neck. “Damn, forgot about him for a moment.”

Roger caught the gaze of the cabbie in the rearview mirror. It was clear by the smirk on the driver’s face that he had not missed much of what had been going on in the back seat of his ride.

The couple was saved from any further embarrassment as they finally reached their destination. Roger thrust a handful of bills at the cabbie, not caring that he had just paid the man what equaled to several fares. The driver counted the money as the couple raced up the steps to the hotel and shook his head as they disappeared through the revolving doors.

“Ah, to be in love,” he said as he put the yellow car into drive and merged back into the oncoming traffic.

**~~**

Marge had worked for the hotel for well over forty years and had thought she had seen it all. That was until she rounded the corner on the sixteenth floor. There, against the doorway to one of the rooms was a couple so tightly pressed together that one could not tell who was who. The man looked old enough to know better and the woman looked young enough not to care. As she cleared her throat, the man dropped the woman’s leg he had been holding against him. The woman only squeaked out “Roger!” as she hid her flaming face against the lapel of the man’s jacket, and he had the audacity to grin at Marge as he reached around his companion and unlocked the door. The door shut with a quiet click, blocking the two lovers from further prying eyes.

“Why, I’ve never seen such,” the housekeeper recounted to her friends around the break room table. “And to top it off…as I passed that room, there was a thump against the door and I could hear giggles coming from the other side of that door. Shameless, I tell you.”

Marge’s co-workers could only gossip over their coffee and cigarettes. At least this job was never boring…

Day three of @cirrus-ghoulette 's whump month: Homesick

Cw: drowning, suicide, manipulation, hallucination, lmk if i missed any

Dew doesn't know when he started feeling this way. He's been fire for years now, why is he suddenly yearning for the water again? The water, the cool darkness only water ghouls can survive in. Yeah, he's swam, yeah his gills are still semi functional, but it's not the same. It'll never be the same.

He wants to go back to the water, permanently. He knows it'll kill him, but he wants to do it anyway. No he doesn't. He doesn't want to die, but the water calls for him, like a siren calling for a sailor, luring them to their death. Maybe he could talk to Delta, see if Delta deals with the same thoughts he does.

But he doesn't. He doesn't want to bother Delta. Maybe these thoughts will stop.

They didn't. In fact, they got worse every time he saw a deep body of water. The water sings a secret song that only he can seem to hear. It's hypnotic. It infests his mind, takes over his thoughts.

He starts to envy Rain and Mist, how they swim so freely, submerge themselves fully, touch the bottom of the lake. He wants to take their abilities from them, use them to go to the bottom of the lake one last time, but he won't. He loves the water ghouls, he couldn't hurt them like that. But if he dies he's only truly hurting himself right?

That's how he ended up here. By the lake. At four in the morning. Too late for any sibling to be up, too early for any ghoul to be up. Besides the feral ones that act as guards around the ministry at night. They wouldn't pay any attention to him though.

He walks close to the edge of the lake. Should he really do this?

Yes. The water calls to him, Come back to me. Come back home, Droplet.

That's all it takes before he's walking into the water. The water reaches his ankles and the sharp sting of cold hits him, but he tredges on. The water touches his belly button, he's used to the temperature. The water's up to his chin, he has one more chance to go back to the ministry, his “home”, but the water calls again.

Droplet. Return. Embrace your natural element, be reborn as what you truly are.

That's a lie, it's all lies. He won't be reborn, he'll die. But he listens anyway. He takes the final step; he's fully submerged, from head to toe. He can breathe through his gills, but just barely. He continues walking. He breathes through his gills, the remnants of them fluttering as if they never broke in the first place.

As he goes deeper, it gets harder to breathe, the pressure from the water pressing on his lungs. Once he fully reaches the bottom of the lake he feels at peace, but also panicked. He can't breathe, he wants to swim back up, get out of the water, but it's holding him down.

You can't leave Droplet, you've just returned. We won't let you leave. The water hisses at him.

The lack of oxygen in his body makes him hallucinate, see spirits of the water around him, pushing him down to the floor of the lake, making him lay down.

Welcome home, Droplet. The spirits giggle as they hold him down.

As his vision gets blurry he starts to regret this. As much as he loved the water it wasn't his home. His home was the ministry, with his pack, teaching Phantom how to be a menace, sloppy makeout sessions with Swiss, baking in the kitchen with Aurora, having the sweetest sex with Cirrus, spending time with his pack, hell, even being scolded by Copia. He made the wrong choice.

Somehow, even while being underwater, he can feel tears run down his face. He wasn't ready to die, he didn't want to die. There was still so much to do. As he feels his consciousness slip away, he feels something grab his hand. His vision is too blurry for him to see so he lets the hand grab him.

He doesn't know how, but he's on the dirt of the banks of the lake and there's a faceless ghoul next to him.

“It's not your time.” The ghoul whispers before disappearing into the darkness.