"You're Blushing"

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 14: 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌

pairing(s): mountain/cumulus words: 829

special shoutout to @belle--ofthebrawl for the original inspo for this prompt. cause we all want snackies from a big schweepy guy <3

✿

“Luluuu . . .” Mountain’s congested voice carries weakly down the hallway. The bed creaks as he no doubt flops over to the other side of the mattress where she once was, his whine of disappointment sounding soon after. The air ghoulette shakes her head, pushing the door open. 

“What’s wrong, sunflower?” she coos, placing the steaming mug of honey green tea onto the nightstand. 

Mountain’s face scrunches up into a frown, eyes squeezing shut. His cheeks bare imprints of his pillow, and when he lifts his head up she can see his upper lip is shiny with mucus, and the corner of his mouth coated in drool. His ear flicks at the disheveled hair falling over it.

“You lef’ me,” he mumbles. “Woke up and you weren’ cuddlin’ me.” Clearly, he’s still highly feverish, if his combination mumbling/whining is anything to go by.

Cumulus just smiles. She thinks it’s cute, Mountain complaining like a human man with a cold. He’d never be so whiny otherwise.

“I went to get you more tea, baby,” she soothes, whipping up a cool breeze to waft over his forehead. He hums and plops his chin down onto the pillows. Cumulus huffs a laugh and sits down beside him. “You were snoring up a storm, didn’t think you’d wake up before I got back.” 

“Hmpf.” Mountain tosses the blanket over his head and turns around dramatically, pretending to shut her off. 

“I bring you tea, and this is the thanks I get?” she says, mock offended. 

There’s a pause. The earth ghoul peeks his head around his shoulder, side-eyeing her and the mug. “ . . . wha’ kind?”

Cumulus smiles softly. Leans in a little like she’s telling a secret. “Green tea with honey. A lemon slice. Don’t tell anyone, but I also put a dash of honeysuckle syrup in it, because I know my baby loves it.”

Mountain trills, ears perking up. “Gimme,” he demands, shuffling to sit up against the approximately five different pillows he’d stashed for optimal sleeping. He holds his hands out and scrunches them in the air. Cumulus hands the mug to him carefully to make sure he doesn’t drop it.

“Aethe warmed the water for me, so if it’s too hot, I’m innocent,” she chirps.

Mountain’s mouth turns down and his eyebrows turn up in the middle. “Aww,” he says appreciatively. He smiles down at the steaming liquid. “Aef . . .” 

“You know he always has to help.” 

Mountain hums in agreement. He takes an experimental sip, groaning when the hot tea slides easily down his throat. He takes a big gulp and closes his eyes after, sighing heavily and smiling at the ceiling. “Yummy,” he compliments. “‘S nice. Warm.” 

“I’m glad, baby,” she lilts, running her nails through his hair. It earns her a happy rumble, Mountain’s tail pitching up the blankets where it’s buried under the many layers. They share a pleasant, quiet moment: Mountain sipping on his tea and Cumulus scritching in all his favorite places. 

The peace of it is nearly broken, however, when Mountain’s eyes start to droop, and he nearly tips the mug over into his lap when his grip starts to go as lax as his jaw. 

“Oh!—hun, you’re gonna—” the air ghoulette saves the mug just before it slips from his fingers, hardly spilling a drop. 

Mountain snorts and jolts his head upright. “Huh?” 

“Didn’t want you to spill,” she says, setting the mug back onto the nightstand. “Sleepy boy.”

He blinks slowly, eyes lingering shut for just long enough that Cumulus is momentarily convinced he’s fallen right back asleep sitting up. “You made me seepy,” he accuses. Leaving out the ‘l’ like a kit unable to pronounce it any other way. 

Cumulus cuddles up, tucking him back into the blankets and pulling him to her chest. “Maybe seepy pup needs his rest then,” she says softly, scritching around his horns this time. He grumbles, but goes down easily. “There you go, baby,” she smiles. The grumble turns into a purr soon enough anyway, so it’s safe to say it was all token protest. 

Mountain mumbles something, twisting his body so he faces her instead. He looks up at her expectantly, despite the fact he aimed all of his words directly into her belly. 

“Yeees?” 

There’s that pout again, fever-addled brain continuing to render him as hopelessly cute. “Kissy, Lus,” he says, as if she heard him perfectly clear the first time. He wriggles his face closer to hers. 

“You’re sick. Nooo kissy on the lips.” She boops him on the nose with her finger. “You may have an air kiss, and I’ll make it feel just like the real thing.”

Mountain grumbles again, squinting at her.

“Sicky equals no kissy. I promise you as many kisses as you want when you’re better, okay, baby?”

The earth ghoul flops onto his back with a sigh. The end of it catches in his throat, though, and he’s sent into a coughing fit, squashing any further complaints. 

𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿

The Ghildo is trending on X. Why do I find this so funny?

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯: "𝘚𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

Rating: G Pairing: Dewdrop/Aether Words: 853 Man I just can't resist an Aether sickfic.

Mushy May created by @forlorn-crows Divider by @ghuleh-recs

Whenever there’s some god awful bug going around the Abbey, it’s inevitable. Aether always gets it. Usually toward the end of the outbreak. Exhausted from running around helping everyone else. Pulling double shifts in the infirmary. Swearing up and down that ghouls can’t catch sicknesses from humans. He’s wrong, every single time. He lies to himself about it anyway. 

This one is pretty mild. A sore throat. A cough. His head feels like it wants to float away but also like it weighs a thousand pounds. He drags himself back to his room from the infirmary in denial. Limbs heavy. Exhaustion bone deep.  He’ll sleep it off. That’s all he needs. Twelve hours of sleep and he’ll be fine. 

When he wakes up he is not fine. His head is pounding. He can’t decide between if he’s hot or if he’s freezing. He lays in his bed, throws his arm over his eyes to block out even the idea of the sun and groans into the inside of his elbow. 

Aether swallows, it feels like knives. He lays there for what feels like hours, suspended in sickness, trying to decide what to do. How to fix this. He knows there is medicine in the bathroom. That it,combined with some of Mountain’s tea, will help. He knows all he has to do to relieve his suffering is stand up and take care of himself. He chides patients for it all the time–that all they have to do is drink lots of water and baby themselves for a few days. But Aether rarely has to realize how hard that is sometimes. He thinks, this is fair karma. He will never suggest that caring for oneself is easy ever again. 

Instead of getting up and getting water, or medicine, or even his phone to text someone and ask for those things, he rolls onto his side. Hopeful that he can just will himself back to sleep. That if he could just be unconscious everything would be ok again. 

It doesn’t work. He doesn’t sleep. He can’t. Every time he starts to drift off something hurts more. His nose runs. He coughs so hard his chest aches. 

It feels like days later that there’s a knock on the door. A quick rap, just before Aether hears the knob turn and the door open. 

“Aeth?” 

“Hey, Dew,” Aether mumbles into his pillow, voice hoarse. 

“You’re sick. I told you you were going to get sick.” 

Aether groans. He starts to tell Dew that he doesn’t need to be reprimanded right now, but he cuts himself off with a rattling cough he feels in his bones. 

“Did you take anything?” 

Aether shakes his head. “I’m fine.” 

Dew doesn’t answer, Aether hears him walk into Aether’s attached bathroom, he hears the medicine cabinet open. Dew drops something, swears. Aether can hear him mumbling to himself as he rumages. The water runs for a while, and then Dew’s at his beside. 

“Sit up.” 

Aether does, it’s an ordeal, it involves opening his eyes, which hurts. His head spins, but he manages to right himself with his back against the headboard. Dew’s sitting next to him on the bed. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand. Dew’s holding what looks like a fistful of pills, and a damp washcloth. 

“Dew, I’m ok.” 

“Just take the fucking medicine, Aether.” 

Aether would laugh, make some joke about how bad Dew would be at working in the infirmary, but he finds he doesn’t have the energy. He just takes the pills from Dew. It’s less than a fistful–only four. A couple of Advil and some cold medicine. He takes them all, taking small sips of blessedly cold water to swallow them with. 

Dew settles the washcloth over his forehead. It’s cold. Almost too cold except for the immediate relief it brins. Aether’s eyes flutter closed. 

“I’m going to run you a bath,” Dew says, smoothing his hand over Aether’s flushed cheek. Fingers gentle, and feeling strangely cool against Aether’s overheated skin. 

“You don’t have to–”

“Shut up,” Dew bites with no venom. “I’m taking care of you ok? Let me.” 

“Only if you take the bath with me, keep me company,” Aether mumbles. He doesn’t want to be alone again. He feels like garbage, and as much as he wants to tell Dew he’s ok and can take care of himself–he wants the attention more, the care. Dew bends down and kisses Aether between his horns. Thumb still tracking over his cheek. 

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” 

“Can you get me some of Mountain’s tea too? And a snack? And–” 

“Hey,” Dew snaps, laughter in his voice. “Don’t push your luck.” 

But when Dew slips out of the door a few minutes later he knows that Dew will come back with everything he asked for and more. He lets himself sink into the bed, still feeling like shit, but knowing that the end is in sight. There’s a cool bath in his future, and more gentle touches from a fire ghoul with terrible bedside manner. What more could he ever ask for?

I have Ghost tickets for Kansas City, so yeah, I'm actually quite happy.

Prompt #1134

"Are you happy?"

"Fuck. I actually think I am."

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This is the scariest thing I've seen today

Smth about copia literally being the metaphor for death on a pale white horse who brings hell with him is so funny. Like have you seen this dude

Fuck him and his magnificent back tattoo. And the open hair too. People died.....

What if Swiss was actually summoned to be a potential replacement for Dew?

Hear me out. The Clergy and the band are in absolute disarray. The band's Water ghoul is currently fighting for his life while attempting to go through this horrific elemental transition. Nobody knows if he's actually going to make it. It's so touch and go, and things change by the hour.

The Clergy can't afford to summon a full Fire ghoul in the event that Dew's body can't handle the trauma it's being subjected to. So what's the next best thing? A Multi.

Why not? He's Fire....enough. He can play guitar well enough to cover the Clergy's asses until proper arrangements can be made. It would be a shame about the Water ghoul, but there must be order. So they tell Swiss, as he stands in the ritual chapel after clawing his way through the portal, already apprehensive at the energy in the room emanating from the hooded figures in front of him, eyeing him up and down with shrewd, scrutinizing faces.

Fast forward, Dew recovers. He overcomes the impossible and becomes not only a powerful Fire ghoul, but a prodigious lead guitarist. And Swiss....is wracked with guilt.

He wants to let the truth out so badly, wants so much to be honest with his friend and packmate. But it would destroy Dew. Dew, who's worked SO HARD to live up to the newfound expectations placed upon him. Dew, who volunteered for the procedure because band members were disappearing left and right and he was just so afraid to be next unless he made himself invaluable. Dew, who bleeds for his perfectionism and doesn't know that after everything, even with all the pain and trauma he suffered at the behest of the Clergy, he was still replaceable all along. Swiss could never tell him.

👅

Mushy May Day 11

(Bonus prompt 8) first kiss

Pairing; Mountain/Dewdrop

note; this is during Era III

thanks as always to @forlorn-crows for the prompts!

Dew could not stop looking at that tall ass earth ghoul throughout the show, which was bad for the show.

He wanted to hate him, he wanted to hate that overly chilled out ghoul for so long, but it was so hard when he was just so loveable and caring. He made Dew’s coffee sometimes and it was always better than how he made it. At the ministry he would always do a double check on Dew right before Mass, sometimes he even found something to fuss over. He grew flowers for him, for hell’s sake. He was so caring, and it was so infuriating.

And oh, the passion that Mountain possessed. He treated his kit better than Dew ever treated his bass. He always did double, triple checks preshow to make sure he would be good to perform at his peak. And his peak was just… peak. He swung his sticks and kicked his legs and whatever else with so much enthusiasm, it was almost overwhelming to watch.

It was after bows, and Dew couldn’t get off of stage any faster to try and catch that lanky ghoul. Mountain was chatting with Ifrit about something, something that he honestly could care less about, because he needed to be with Mountain, needed to do something with him.

“Mount!” Dew called out. Mountain turned and stopped, his eyes striking against the chrome of the mask. He tilted his head in a question and Dew simply grabbed his forearm and began walking. Ifrit whistle “go get ‘em!” that he promptly ignored with a huff.

“What’s going on, droplet?” Mountain was ironically stumbling trying to keep up with the water ghoul. Dew gave him no answer and pushed the two of them to a small corner in the venue, somewhere away from prying eyes and any rush of people. He rangled his masks off and stared up at Mountain, breathing heavily. Mountain reluctantly did the same, carefully clicking the mask and balaclava off of his face. His brows were furrowed together and Dew could see his lips form a small frown.

“What’s going on?” Mountain asked again, his voice hushed. Dew shook his head and laughed, what a scene he accidentally created.

“Sorry, nothing, uh-” he took a deep breath and looked back into those eyes, the concern now turned confusion. He smiled slightly, baring his fangs. “You just… I just wanted to say good job. Tonight.”

Mountain blinked at him. “You’re hiding me away to… compliment me?” He chuckled. “Seems pretty excessive, yeah?”

“Yeah, well…” he worried his lip between his teeth, a habit he can already hear Aether lecture to him about again, and sighed. “Good job, man.”

Mountain smiled, bright and genuine. He reached a hand down and rested it against Dew’s cheek, a gesture he leaned into with a hum. Dew could see the cogs rotating in that head of his, something he did often. It was always a good way to get to actually look at him without the problem of being caught.

But those cogs seemed to be working tonight. Slowly, slow enough that Dew could back out at any point, Mountain leaned low and close. Dew met him halfway, hands unsure what to do but hung out in the air as their lips pressed together in a chaste kiss. A peck, really. They leaned their foreheads together, eyes locked in a fierce staring contest that was way too intimate to be anything challenging. Mountain kissed him one more time, smiling into it.

“Thanks.” He mumbled when he pulled away.