Nothing Like Cracking Open A Cold One By The Pool After A Long Day At Work

When it all burns down

When it all burns down

I will hold you close for the minute

For the minute

Mushy May Day 31: Looking at/Taking Pictures

The fridge in the den kitchen tells a lot of stories.

Thank you so so so much to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together again this year, and to @ghuleh-recs for making us the dividers. Love you guys, cannot thank you enough. I had so much fun doing this again <3

Arguably, the kitchen is the central point in the entire ghoul den. It seems like someone's always there, cooking or cleaning or making a snack, coming in from the gardens or slipping out to have a smoke.

So naturally, it makes sense that the fridge is the pack corkboard. Magnets from just every stop the band's ever made cover the stainless steel, holding up shopping lists, reminders on bright colored sticky notes, a calendar, but most frequently, photos. Polaroids and glossy film and printed out on paper, the kitchen fridge is an amalgamation of the big moments and the little ones.

There's one right next to the freezer handle, a little blurry, out of focus. It shows the inside of the band tourbus, a soft purple blanket covering two sleeping forms. It's dark, but if you look close enough, you can make out Dew's spindly fingers, arm wrapped tight around Aeon's waist as he big spoons them. Rain had taken it, the first night they had shared a bunk, early into Aeon's first tour. It makes the little quint blush every time they see it, but the way their tail wags betrays any semblance of embarrassment.

There's one in the center of the fridge, a polaroid film, the flash bright and a little over exposed, two ghouls with their backs to the camera. Aurora is easily recognizable, her hot pink hair covering the bottom quarter of the image. Dew's in the background, sitting in Mountain's lap, a little out of focus as he throws up an As Above gesture. Rain's the star of the show though, his blue black waves pulled back into two French braids, decorated with clips and baubles and ribbons. Dew's hair is in a similar state. There's a caption written in Aether's blocky handwriting below it that reads "Playing Barbies."

A glossy 4 by 6 print is stuck to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a palm tree, from Cirrus's disposable camera. It's summertime at the Abbey, taken from the edge of the dock. Mist's perched on Alpha's shoulders, successfully shoving Dew from Swiss's shoulders in a game of chicken fight. She'd taken it at the perfect moment of realization, Dew's eyes wide in panic just as he tips backwards. They had all laughed when she had gotten the print developed, even as Dew grumbled. He couldn't hide the fond look on his face when it had been pinned up, though.

On the side of the fridge is a picture of Omega and Terzo, the big ghoul sprawled out in an armchair during one of the pack's frequent movie nights, Terzo practically in his lap, smudging paint against the side of Omega's neck. They both had passed out within the first half hour of a particularly loud action movie, much to the snickers of the pack.

There are several from the road, new scenery and places and tourist stops, a polaroid of Aurora proudly holding up a soft drink that's almost the size of her torso captioned "Baby's First Big Gulp." One of Aeon sticking their face through a cut out that makes them look like a video game character in some mall. Swiss giving Dew bunny ears while the fire ghoul takes a picture with Rain and Mountain. Cumulus floating on a blow up raft smuggled into a hotel pool. All three of the ghoulettes squeezed onto a greenroom couch in a way that cannot possibly be comfortable but they had sworn up and down that it was.

There are close to two dozen pictures with a similar set up, the entire band and crew all lined up on stage after the last show of a tour. The lineup changes and shifts, familiar faces running through several photographs, looking bone-deep exhausted but with grins on their faces, satisfied with a job well-done.

Aether approaches the fridge, a photo in hand, searching for an empty magnet. He finds one, chuckling as he grabs one shaped like a bat but in a hot pink plastic, pinning the picture front and center. It shows Aeon and Aurora, both ghouls grinning, wearing cheap plastic party hats, the elastic hooked under their chins. There's a cake on the table in front of them, a sparkler candle lit in the middle. There's words frosted on it, in red frosting in Mountain's loopy handwriting that proudly display "Happy First Summoning Day."

He sighs, smiling at the picture of his newest packmates, before his eyes drift up to a picture pinned to the top corner of the fridge. Aether always looks to it when he's in here, feels a warmth settle in his heart as he takes in the picture. He's memorized it, it will be seared into the back of his eyelids for the rest of his time Up Top and long after that.

It's him and Dew, standing at the front of the chapel, grasping each other's forearms as Copia wraps a multi colored cord around their wrists, the fondest smiles on each of their faces. The cord was a four stranded braid of ribbon, he remembers, purple and black and blue and orange. He remembers the warmth of Dew's hand on his arm, the glint of the gold jewelry in his ears, hair soft and falling over his shoulders, every inch the ghoul he had fallen in love with the moment he had arrived Up Top.

Aether smiles, running a finger along the edge of the photograph reverently, reaching up for the bunch of bananas on the top of the fridge, breaking one off and going to rejoin the pack with his snack.

Two Benadryl, two melatonin and a half a bottle of wine will also do the trick Dewrop.

Dew, brewing a pot of sleepytime tea: "Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble... With this magic potion-" -popping open a bottle of benadryl and taking two out- "-and these magic beans, this bitch is gonna sleep tonight or I'm personally gonna strangle the sandman."

We are not doing this, okay?

Some of yall needed to hear this

Credits to @/mattxiv on Instagram

Thanks for the reminder

a companion piece to ibuprofen secondo

Seriously, look at those hands

This picture of Swiss is everything.

Why do I feel like this needs to be a fic?

He's either scared or really captivated with the magical water ghoul in front of him summoning a storm...

A study evolved into this rendered scene, i felt blue since it stormed today.

Bonus mustache:

Tip jar

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…

Mushy May Day 20: Gardening

Sunny, Rain, and Mountain plant strawberries in the Abbey garden.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for making the dividers <3

"Will these do?"

Mountain looks up, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He knows he's left a smudge of dirt behind but can't bring himself to care. Rain's walking closer to the raised bed he's currently planting in, shirt rucked up to hold about three dozen stones. He's dripping wet, starting to dry off in the late spring sun, hair hanging in curtains around his face.

The angle is something Mountain doesn't get to see every day, the water ghoul actually looming over him on his knees.

"Lemme see, tadpole." Mountain shifts up on his knees as Rain gets close enough for him to examine the stones. They're all vaguely oblong, narrower at one end than the other, smoothed by years of the lake's waves lapping at them. "These are perfect," he says, glancing up at Rain until their eyes meet, emerald to aquamarine. "Sunny's got the paint. I've got about ten more of these to plant and then could I have you water for me?"

Rain smiles, revealing his serrated teeth. "Sure thing." He bends down to press a sweet kiss to the corner of Mountain's mouth, watching pleased as punch as a blush blooms over the earth ghoul's olive skin. "You've got a little," he gestures at Mountain's face.

"Come on, Rainy, you know better. A little dirt won't kill me," Mountain sighs, rolling his eyes as he smiles fondly at the water ghoul. "We're gardening, there's going to be some dirt."

Rain returns the fond smile, flicking the finned spade of his tail on the brim of Mountain's hat, something floppy to keep the sun out of his eyes. Rain, along with the rest of his packmates, finds it incredibly endearing. He turns, heading to where Sunny's sitting at one of Mountain's workbenches.

"I come bearing gifts, sunbeam," he says, dumping the rocks from the lake into a neat little pile in front of her. She glances up at him, a paintbrush tucked behind her pointed ear, curls bouncing softly as her head moves.

"Pretty," Sunny coos, though she's not looking at the rocks. Rain preens, patting the small of her back with his tail. She rolls her eyes playfully, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him down to sit next to her. She picks up a rock, examining the smooth, grey surface. "It's a shame we've got to paint them all red."

"You want strawberries come July?" Mountain asks. "We could just let the birds and critters get them, or we could put out the decoys."

"I know, string bean," Sunny laughs, taking the paintbrush from out behind her ear, shaking the little bottle of red craft paint she brought out and squeezing some onto a little plastic palette. She starts painting each rock, coating them in red, whistling something bright that carries through the gardens as she works.

Mountain barks a laugh at the nickname, turning back to his strawberry plants. He whispers in Ghoulish as he plants each one, encouraging words of earth magick and blessing. The lines of his knuckles and his fingernails are caked with soil.

Rain meanders back over. "I can start watering the one's you've done so far?" he asks, settling on his knees on the far side of the planter opposite Mountain.

He hums approvingly, examining another strawberry plant that they're repotting from the seedling containers. They're big enough now to go in the actual ground, let the roots expand down into the earth, leaves furling out to soak up the sun. There's twenty in total, the work meditative, especially as he catches glances of Rain, brow furrowed as he focuses, pulling moisture from the air and sinking it into the soil, nurturing and precise.

The three of them work quietly, soaking in their packmates' presence. The tip of Sunny's tongue peeks through her teeth as she focuses, making the stones look like strawberries, deterring the birds and fauna from nibbling on the plants when they eventually fruit. There's plenty of berry patches in the woods not a hundred feet from the gardens for them to forage from.

Sunny hums in satisfaction, setting aside her paintbrush and calling on her air and fire to dry the rocks, now painted to resemble perfectly ripe berries. She gathers them up just as Mountain finishes tamping down the soil around the last plant, scattering them around the garden bed.

Mountain groans as he stands, knees protesting and coveralls stained with grass and dirt. "We'll be eating good in no time," he hums, nudging his shoulder against Sunny's. "They'll be just as sweet as you."

Rain's head perks up from between two plants. "And what about me?"

Sunny and Mountain share a look, bursting into laughter.

have some copia face studies!!