𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

Dewther tattoos and constellations 🤷🏻‍♀️

This was sitting in my drafts for 5000 years so I'm just chucking it out into the light of day.

Aether shakes his head with a small smile as he walks quietly down the hall towards Dew's room after finishing up in the infirmary. He's tired but not the bone deep heavy kind, something light and soft dancing against his eyelids, weighing them slowly. The promise of Dew's warm body and soft bed are the only thing keeping him fully awake.

He laughs quietly when he thinks back to Aeon's shocked but pleased expression when he finally caught a glimpse, how he'd snapped his fingers and grabbed hold of Aether's shirt, tugging it down a little further for a better look.

"I knew it! I knew you had one!"

"It wasn't really a secret." It was just usually hidden behind thick hair but that didn't matter, he knew it was there and more importantly, Dew knew it was there.

Aeon's big hazy purple eyes had studied it, head cocked just slightly. "Hydra?"

"I'll tell you about it another day." He pressed a kiss to his lips softly. "Have a good shift."

He tiptoes into the room and his breath catches the way it always does when he sees Dew asleep, curled up with his hair fanned out on the pillow, face pressed into one of Aether's discarded t-shirts as he sleeps without him.

He's soft like this, a sweetness Aether has never been able to find strong enough words for. Walls down and vulnerable, and Aether would dare anything to try to get through him to touch Dewdrop.

He lets the tips of his fingers kiss Dew's cheek, brushing back his hair with the whisper of a touch so he doesn't wake but some part of him still knowing Aether is there. His lips part over a tiny breath, turning a fraction into the touch.

It's a struggle to get his feet moving to the bathroom, needing to shower before he slots in beside Dew but he just wants to crawl up beside him, wrap him up in his arms and bury his face in his hair, breathing in the scent that he knows by heart.

The water is hot as he can stand it, groaning as it eases tension away and carries it down the drain. His fingers linger on his chest as he washes himself, pressing against where the ink had entered and left a permanent declaration that Dew always had been and always would he his.

He dries off quick, foregoing clothes, wanting nothing between himself and Dew, knowing that under the blanket Dew lays bare waiting for him.

He slips softly like fog under the covers, getting his arms around Dew when he moves instinctively closer in his sleep, a little star knowing its orbit without question. Aether smiles when his hand comes to rest on his chest, fingers pressed against the tattoo Aeon had been so excited to finally catch a glimpse of. Dew touches it like a pulse when he needs a reminder.

His mind drifts back once Dew's securely in his arms where he belongs, Aether's lips pressed against his hair. He remembers the night he was summoned like it was yesterday, a chilly rainy night but he'd looked up at the sky on his way to the chapel, mostly out of habit but he'd paused when he saw just how vivid Hydra was that night despite the rain.

It struck him odd until the little water ghoul was pulled into the circle, dripping wet and shaking, Aether's eyes the first he found.

It was like a tidal wave slamming into him and he knew in that moment that that little water ghoul was his.

Hed draped a blanket around him and lifted him to his feet, keeping his arms around him to keep him warm, safe, quietly staking a claim before he even fully realized it himself.

When he gave his name Aether's knees shook, he never knew a single word could feel like home but his name did.

He didn't hesitate to run to Omega later, to have him mark his skin with the stars that brought Dew to him, etched into his skin, promising forever before even ever really talking to him. Even if Dew didn't ever feel the same, Aether always would and that was enough.

Over time Dew did love him, fell into his arms and stayed, confessed feelings he didn't really understand right away but desperately wanted to share regardless. Aether marked a constellation behind Dews ear, the one he saw when he first told Aether he loved him.

When Dew gave up his water Aether stayed for each painful, breathless second, sobbing as Dew screamed himself mute, choking on flames and smoke and ash as the fire made a home in his veins, making a dessert where there had once been a softly flowing river.

He stayed and he waited, guts twisting and his heart too scared to beat as Dews stuttered and struggled behind his ribs. When they moved him to the recovery room Aether was sure this was it, this was goodbye, a tragically short lived forever.

His eyes had turned to the window, so dark it didn't feel like night, felt more like the caverns in the pit, endlessly inky, winding nightmares.

But then he saw it. Dew's stars were still there, brighter than they should be and he knew it wasn't over.

And his heart kept beating.

Aether blinks himself back into the present, feels Dews fingers on the tattoo and his steady breaths across his chest. He brushes his hair back to see the one he'd given Dew, Aquila tucked behind his ear, a secret just for them.

He kisses the top of his head, eyes turning to the window and glancing at the sky, smiling when Hydra once again fills the night, bright and beautiful.

Reminding him of forever.

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 6: "You're Blushing"

Aeon and Swiss wake up after the first time they spent the night together.

Mushy May is put together by the lovely @forlorn-crows, and the divider was made by the wonderful @ghuleh-recs

This one does get a little suggestive, but other than that, no content warnings

The light filters in through the gap in the blackout curtains, a strip of sun landing square over Aeon's eyes. They whine, shifting as they wake, hissing when they open their eyes, the long injured one stinging in the light.

Aeon turns, burying their face into the warmth underneath them to try and hide from the rising sun when they realize it. Their mattress is a lot warmer than it normally is, even after a full night's worth of their body heat warming it. They open their eyes for real and just barely manage to bite back a squeak.

Swiss's staring down at them, golden eyes half-lidded and almost glowing in the early light, his bottom lip pinned between his fangs. He's been watching them sleep on his chest for Lucifer knows how long. "Mornin', buggy. You sleep well?"

Aeon feels a shudder run down their spine, all the way to the very tip of their tail, at the gruff sound of his voice, raspy with sleep. "Mhm," they hum, all of the memories from the night before filtering into their brain as they wake up a little more.

The way Swiss had wrapped his big hands around their hips. The just this side of pleasant soreness between their thighs. The ache of bruises on their neck and collarbone, trailing down their chest. The way he had made them show him just how flexible they were. The way both of their bodies are still bare, their clothes tossed in a haphazard pile on the floor.

A peal of laughter breaks Aeon out of their reverie. "Oh, I know what you're thinking about. You're blushing, buggy."

They dive back down, burying their face against Swiss's chest as they try to hide the way their face is flushing, probably nearly fluorescent violet at this point. His hand rests at the small of their back, his chest rumbling as he laughs softly.

"Aw, buggy, you slept so good you forgot, huh?" he croons, running a knuckle along the shell of their ear; it flicks against their head.

"Shuddup," they whisper, his chest hair coarse against their cheek. He smells of cinnamon and cloves and honey, and it's so intensely Swiss Aeon could almost cry.

"Nah, you're pretty when you blush. Wanna see it more."

"You're a sap, you know that, Swiss?" Aeon complains, though there's the obvious undercurrent of laughter in their tone.

"Course I do," he says, hand skating up their back to card through their dark hair. Aeon chuffs, shuddering as he gently rakes his claws against their scalp. "No point in hiding how I feel, bug."

He reaches with his other hand, carefully taking their chin between his fingers and tipping their head up. Aeon sputters before he catches their lips with his, soft and tender. When they break, Swiss pushes a strand of hair off of their forehead, and the look on his face is so fond it makes Aeon's chest hurt.

Aeon stretches, tail curling up like a cat as they bare their fangs in a yawn. Swiss curses as he yawns, Aeon's yawn contagious. His hand slides down their back, fingers just barely brushing the base of Aeon's tail. They jolt as electricity races up their spine, almost as if he had dosed them with quintessence, before bursting into laughter.

Swiss grins, nose crinkling up as he smiles. "Thank you for letting me into your bed, Aeon," he says, suddenly serious, but still smiling. "For letting me stay the night."

They chuff, ducking back down to tuck their face into the crook of his neck. He smells the sweetest here, skin warm with sleep. "Would you wanna stay?" They stammer, the blush coming back in full force; they bet Swiss can feel just how hot their cheeks get.

He tilts his head, rubbing one of his horns against Aeon's. "'Course I'd wanna stay," He hums, chuffing into their dark hair. "I had a good night last night, I'd like to do it again."

Aeon's tail wraps around his shin, squeezing the muscle gently, and their eyes flick up to meet his, one violet and the other a milky white. The spade of their tail taps against the mattress. "Me too."

Swiss doesn't reply, just stares down at the quintessence ghoul clinging to his chest, that same warm smile that makes Aeon feel like they're going absolutely insane.

He growls playfully, and Aeon yelps as they're flipped, Swiss leveraging his weight to pin Aeon on their back underneath him. Their chest heaves, staring up at him with wide eyes.

There's a glint in the multi-ghoul's eyes, and Aeon doesn't have a moment to process before Swiss lunges down, blowing a raspberry on the hinge of their jaw, just under their ear.

Aeon cackles, batting at his shoulders as he presses playful kisses up the line of their jaw. They can feel the scrape of his stubble against their skin, the way his cheeks dimple as he can't stop smiling. They don't mind waking up like this. They want to do it again, and again, and again, as long as Swiss will have them.

The way he's kissing them makes them think he wants it just as much.

Would you expand on this? Pretty please 🥵🥺

Of course 👀 Sorry it took a bit to respond. Thoughts were thoughting and it kinda ran away with me into a slightly different direction and then I forgot to post before I fell asleep 😂

Context: This video.

Anyway, …incoherent spiciness of the cum play variety under the cut. 

Swiss knows the moment Aether looms over him on stage, jerking the fretboard of his guitar over him, what he really needs. What he has been missing. Why he’s lying here on the stage floor, letting himself writhe under the fleeting burn of the sparks hitting his body. The thought alone has him press the tail end of his Hagstrom into his hardening cock for a moment longer, imagination running wild, before he pulls himself to his feet like nothing happened, turning on his heels to see which side of the stage Aether went to.

 Mind made up. Plan already forming, knowing he has to act fast. Or Dewdrop gets him first.

He can’t let him have it. It’s his. 

He follows Aether with quick steps once he spots him, cuts into his path, and ushers him into the nearest empty room with a determined look that betrays his true intentions. Muttering under his breath that it wasn’t fair to tease him like this and then just walk away. That Aether should know. Ignoring the questioning noises Aether makes in response.

Swiss wastes no time to get on his knees and cup Aether’s full, heavy balls through the sweat-wet fabric of his stage pants, massaging them roughly. His mouth already dropping open at the feeling, a pleased shudder going through him. Anticipating the taste. The smell. How he’ll positively reek of Aether. He whines. 

„Aeth….“

A low, breathy chuckle comes from above him, Aether’s words reaching his ears in the same quality. “That’s how it is? Need me to match your outside with your filthy inside so bad?”

Swiss blinks, slow. His way of stopping himself from looking away. He won‘t get it if he looks away. He has to follow the rules. Then he nods.

“Please” he chokes out, unable to keep the desperation cursing through him out of his tone.  

Aether moves to brush a loc out of Swiss face, thinks about making him wait until they’re back at the hotel when Swiss turns his head just slightly and kisses Aether‘s palm so hopeful, so desperate, eyelashes already uncharacteristically damp and….He just widens his stance. He can’t. Not tonight. 

 „Take what you need, sweetheart”

And Swiss does. His hands fly to the fastenings of Aether’s pants, yanking him closer as he still holds Aether’s heated gaze. Doesn't even look away once when he finally gets them open and drags them down around his thighs, stretching his lips over the tip of that thick cock, tonguing the fat veins at the sides as he feels it fills out in his mouth. Encouraged by Aether’s groans, the hand cupping his cheek

Swiss whimpers when the taste hits, gets stronger with every drop of pre leaking steadily into his mouth. He holds him there, relishes in it, in the stretch, before he fumbles with the golden hooks of his vest,  lets it fall open, and haphazardly rips at the button tab of his dress shirt right after when it takes him too long to get them undone. Impatient and already too single-minded to care. 

He slowly lets Aether’s cock slip from his mouth, keeps jacking him, messy fingers rubbing and pressing into that sweet spot behind his balls while he inches forward until his knees find their place between Aether’s feet, close enough that any pre drips messily onto his belly. His thighs. Nothing shall be wasted.

And Swiss gets lost in the feeling, in the way Aether matches his hand’s rhythm, how he rocks forcefully down against his fingers. Intense. Generous. Giving him what he needs. What he craves. 

Feeling Aether’s balls draw up, he tips his head back and has Aether’s release spill over his chest. His hips jerk forward in abortive little thrusts as white ribbons decorate his warm brown skin. Instantly he frees one hand to smear it around, up to his collarbones and his throat. Gets it pooling on his fingertips to rub it behind his ears. Shiny stray droplets run down his belly, catching in his hair there before he reaches down to spread them with a happy sigh as well.

Aether can only watch as Swiss’ hands roam over his glistening body, eyes closed and mouth gaping, saliva spilling over the corners. Face blissfully slack, with sweet high-pitched sounds accompanying every move as he coats his skin with Aether, a sense of calm washing over him. 

Aether finally lowers himself down in front of Swiss with an elated laugh, his hand coming up to thumb a drop Swiss somehow missed over his nipple, dragging it all the way down until he reaches the waistband of Swiss pants and pops the button out of the hole.

 „Think I missed a spot.“

have some copia face studies!!

Your beauty never ever scared me

if i may request raindrop for day 25? 👉👈

Mushy May '24 Day 25: Sharing a secret comfort item

WC: 540

Relationship: Rain/Dewdrop

Notes: Maybe not fitting the prompt perfectly but idccc, I love newly summoned fish and still water idiot being awkward <3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Rain does not like it.

He was summoned around two days ago and he’s in misery for no explainable reason. He’s cold and his skin feels wrong and he is really so close to sneaking out through the window—if he’d manage to figure out how it works—finding the closest body of water and hiding in there unless someone would haul him out.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong and he doesn’t feel comfortable asking anyone for help. He’s just met them, he can’t.

So Rain huffs and wraps himself up in a blanket that neither warms him up enough, nor feels good against his oversensitive skin.

He whines and grumbles to himself, tossing and turning in something that’s supposed to be his new nest, but it’s nowhere close to being a cozy one made of rocks and seaweeds that he’s used to.

The water ghoul jumps when he hears a tapping sound on…the door, he thinks. He has no idea what the purpose is and it hurts his ears a little, but it soon stops and the door opens. One of the ghoul’s he knows is his pack now peeks his head in, a shy smile on his pretty face. “Hi!”

“Hello,” Rain answered quietly, hiding behind the covers.

“Dunno if you remember, I’m–” the other ghoul starts, coming fully into the room and shutting the door behind him.

“Dewdrop,” the water ghoul finishes for him. He does remember, Dewdrop caught his eye immediately. “You’re also a water ghoul.”

“That I am,” he confirms. He carries something in his arms, a big bundle. “Freshwater.”

“I like salt,” Rain blurts out. “I mean…I’m–uh, I’m saltwater.”

Dewdrop giggles, but the new ghoul doesn’t take offense. His laugh sounds nice. 

“Anyway, I brought you something. Sorry it took me a few days, I wanted to wash it first.” Rain perks up, cocking his head to the side as Dewdrop outstretches his arms to drop the bundle into the other’s lap. He looks down at it with slight confusion and Dewdrop clears his throat, “It’s a blanket. It’s different from what you have there, it’s…more water ghoul friendly. It's special, actually, made for water ghouls, I got it when I got summoned from an older one. It's bigger, softer, and warmer, I know how the normal stuff feels and I’m sorry you had to deal with it.”

“Huh,” Rain replies intelligently. He reaches a hand out to touch the bundle and it is, indeed, so soft he lets out a gasp when he feels it. His eyes light up—his entire face does—and he shuffles around trying to get comfortable. It’s a big blanket, though, and he’s very clumsy out of the water, so he gets…well, trapped, essentially.

“Oh, uhm…lemme–” Dewdrop comes closer and—rather awkwardly—helps Rain untangle himself from the blanket and get under it properly. He puts the other comforters that the new water ghoul got over him to add warmth and only when he pulls away he notices that Rain started purring. It sounds a bit weird, the ghoul obviously not used to doing it out of water, but Dewdrop quickly realizes he absolutely adores it.

When Rain thanks him and snuggles further into the blanket Dewdrop realizes he absolutely adores him.

Copia military jacket, that's it that's the post

To Bea Okay Pt. 1: The First of a Thousand Steps Forward

[A desperate young woman with nothing to lose accepts a job offer that's a little too good to be true. Or, how Bea came to work for the ministry.] Below the cut.

From the moment she's approached on the street, Bea thinks to herself that this has to be some kind of elaborate scheme; That the flyer she is holding in her hands is a one way ticket to losing her kidneys to some back alley surgeon, and that she should do herself a favor and throw it away.

But, looking up from the embossed print at the odd nun who had handed it to her, she just gives a noncommittal shrug and tucks it away inside of her tote bag along with all the other random bullshit she's been handed already.

Despite putting on her bravest, bitchiest face when approached by people trying to give her stuff like this, Bea's never been good at turning people down when they aren't put off by her obvious annoyance and discomfort, because, quite frankly, saying "No" has always been a difficult thing for her to do.

Now, standing by a dumpster, Bea reaps what she's sown and turns her tote bag upside-down, letting its contents filter out into the trash.

Not like she has anything important in there anyway.

Everything slips away just fine, except for that stupid fancy flyer the nun gave her -the cardstock much more rigid than the flimsy printer paper she's usually handed- which gets caught up in the handles of her bag, and when shaking it doesn't loosen it even an inch, Bea gives an irritated grunt and rips it from there herself.

Looking at the paper once more, Bea leans herself against the bricks behind her and takes a moment to actually read what it says again;

"Now Hiring: Year Round Groundskeeper, Inquiries Please Visit Our Community Outreach Post At The Nunnery On Maple View."

Huh.

Bea squints at the page searching for any fine print or any obvious red flags, going so far as to hold the flyer up to the sparse sunlight peaking through the clouds overhead, searching for... something.

And that's when she sees it, the faintest hint of a odd sigil that appears like a phantom as the light shines through the dense paper;

It looks like an inverted cross with a circle set around the bottom.

"That's..."

Lowering the flyer, Bea tilts her head back against the wall, thinking.

On one hand, this is obviously sketchy as hell, but on the other hand, perhaps not the organ snatching kind of sketchy she thought it was.

Or maybe it's just a very fancy organ snatching thing.

She pushes away from the wall and shakes her head.

Honestly, if this is some kind of cult thing, she should hand this in to the authorities, but Bea's never gotten along with cops, and even if she hasn't done anything illegal in... about a year or so?

Yeah, she's not risking getting stuck in jail overnight.

But checking out a possible cult in the city using a groundskeeping job as a scam to draw in someone desperate enough to go for it?

Color Bea impressed.

And fucking desperate as shit.

If the offer turns out to be legitimate, cult or no cult, Bea's been looking for an opportunity like this.

Finally, a fucking chance of not sleeping in her car!

Erm... maybe.

Looking at herself in the window of an empty store front, Bea's not exactly the kind of person you'd want to hire on the spot; She's not big or tall, she's sturdy, compactly built, but entirely unassuming dressed as she is now.

It doesn't help that her hair hasn't been washed in days, or that she hasn't been able to keep up with basic hygiene like brushing her teeth, but-

...She needs this.

She needs to get out of this hole she's dug for herself.

Pinching her eyes shut, Bea takes a deep breath, rolls her shoulders, and stands up straight.

Fuck it.

Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it... she's going to do it.

She's gonna do it.

She's going to go in and ask about the job.

.

.

.

Bea's not sure exactly what a nunnery is or what purpose it serves -beyond being a place where nuns live- but sitting in the hallway waiting to be interviewed, she can at least admire the nice architecture.

It's strange though.

The lack of crosses on the walls.

In fact, there's not a lot of religious iconography anywhere in this front room, not that she minds really.

Bea's never been exceedingly religious; She wasn't brought up going to church, even if her mother had been raised Catholic, she, too, seemed disinterested in continuing on with her faith.

Not that she could really blame her.

Life had not been kind to her mother, and as a result Bea's hadn't turned out much better, but a small part of her has always held onto the hope that things could get better... even if things had really gone south for her over the last couple of years.

Lifting her head from her lap, Bea surveys the others waiting in the hall, folding back into herself just a little when she realizes she's the only woman here.

This sort of thing doesn't exactly surprise her all told, but it does make her a bit less confident that she'll even be considered for the job.

By and large people hiring for landscaping work or other jobs requiring physical labor prefer to hire men, even if Bea has the experience and know how, some folks are just set on the idea that someone like her can't -or even shouldn't- be working in this field.

She'd gotten enough "well meaning" lectures from older men about how she wasn't built for this kind of work, that she should stop cutting her hair, that she should smile more, and-

"Beatrix Milne?" A gentle voice calls, drawing her from her internal ramblings.

She stands and is greeted by a sweet looking, elderly nun, who gestures smoothly for her to approach and enter the room to her right.

Inside the room, sits an older woman dressed in mostly black with a brown shawl draped over her shoulders, grey and blond hair tied back in a tight bun that makes Bea's own head ache from the tension present there.

"Have a seat." the woman smiles, and Bea does what she's told, moving her tote bag into her lap so it doesn't catch on the arm of the chair, "I have to say, this is a refreshing sight, I've seen thirty men so far... It's nice to see a young woman like yourself applying for a position like this."

"I... Mn." Bea bites her tongue, unsure of how to feel about that statement, opting to simply nod instead, "I've worked similar jobs in the past, so I thought I would apply."

"Experience is a desired trait." the woman chuckles, tenting her fingers on the desk, "Introductions first; I am Sister Imperator, I am, as my title might suggest, the mother superior of this particular nunnery, though perhaps not for much longer..."

She gives a somber smile.

"And you are?"

"Beatrix Milne, or just Bea..." she says, "When you say that..."

"My health is in decline." Sister Imperator supplies, answering Bea's unfinished question, not seeming in the least bit offended by it either, "I intend to retire soon, and return home to the countryside, which is why I am hoping to hire a new groundskeeper; The property maintained by my family is quite large and difficult for someone such as myself to tend to, even with the help of the other residents of the property, only a handful of them are skilled in art of horticulture and understand the balance between beauty and the thoughtful maintenance required to care for the surrounding green spaces..."

"Additionally, there are tasks that need to be done that require the knowledge of how to use highly specific tools and machinery that I would not risk allowing an inexperienced individual using for fear of damaging it or themselves." she explains, "I also do not enjoy pulling them from their studies to work outside..."

"Studies?"

"Part of the property houses a school of sorts, a small one, but a school nonetheless, where individuals come to study specialized fields of science, literature, etcetera... I often rely on volunteers among these students to help maintain the property alongside our current gardener." she says, leaning back in her chair, "Our gardener is a diligent, hardworking fellow, but he oftentimes bites off more than he can chew, and he bears other responsibilities that take him away from the property for long periods of time, which makes it difficult to maintain things properly."

"...So you'd be hiring me to pick up his slack?" Bea questions, and Sister Imperator gives a little laugh and shakes her head.

"In a way, yes, but I really much prefer having someone else who's capable around when he is not, or perhaps when more than one set of hands would come in useful." she replies, "Making one person work to maintain nearly fifty acres of land would be cruel, even if a little over half of it is woodland."

"Fifty acres..." Bea tries to imagine it, but the sheer size is difficult to comprehend based on a number alone, so she tries to visualize it using a similarly large unit to help; Football fields.

As Bea sits doing the mental math of football fields to a single acre, Sister Imperator continues on explaining the details of the job.

"-Of course, I understand if you would be worried about leaving behind friends and family here in the states."

"Oh, uh..." Bea blinks back to the present at about sixteen football fields, "...No, not really."

"Oh?"

"I'm not in contact with my family, and I'm new to the area, so I don't really know anyone here." she admits easily, "I can pick up and go pretty much anywhere."

And that...

That really makes the older lady grin.

"Really... Well, I have to admit that that puts you ahead of some of the other candidates." she shuffles some papers in front of her, "...If I were to offer you the position now, how soon would you like to start?"

Bea stares.

"...As soon as possible... if p-possible?" she gives a nervous laugh.

Sister Imperator stands and rounds the table in a singular, swift motion, hand grazing the table top as she heads for the door.

Bea gives a nervous squeak when she opens it to step outside, but then the woman opens her mouth and-

"I've decided on a candidate, thank you all for your time, you are free to leave now."

The door closes again.

"Now then..." she says, gliding back around the desk and taking a seat once more.

"Let's discuss the finer details of your new job."

What.

"...What?"

Anyone with an ounce of common sense would have left that interview thinking it was shady as hell, but Bea?

Bea leaves the nunnery not thinking about much at all.

Actually, as she drifts through the door, the first thing that filters through her mind is how hungry she is.

There had been little candies on the desk during the interview, and she'd eaten one or two while waiting for Sister Imperator to come back with the necessary paperwork, and when she got caught popping a third in her mouth, the older woman had slid the bowl a little closer in a subtle, encouraging gesture.

Bea twirls one of the wrappers between her fingers.

"Maybe it's actually poison." a small part of her brain frets, but Bea just hums, thinking about what she can afford to eat that will actually be even remotely filling, "...It's sweet though."

.

.

.

Bea's never been on a plane before, and after being on one for nearly eight hours, she's come to the conclusion that she's never getting on another one ever again.

What little pride and dignity she might have had prior to boarding that wretched contraption is flung out the window as soon as she's firmly on the ground, curling into a tight ball.

If it weren't for the modicum of shame she feels -combined with a touch of nausea- she would have stayed there.

It sucks that for some things you have to experience it first to know how much it'll mess with your stomach, but, hey, now she knows.

Scrambling back to her feet, Bea parks her carryon beside herself and tugs on the coat she'd bought in anticipation of this trip; It may be decently warm inside the airport, but she can see the snow coming down outside, and she'd rather not freeze while waiting for her ride to arrive.

The ministry -the organization Sister Imperator works for...? Runs...?- had arranged to send a car to pick her up at the airport, which had been nice of them, especially seeing as Bea wouldn't know how to ask for one, let alone give the driver proper directions, because she doesn't exactly speak Swedish.

Yeah, somehow an old lady she's never met before, who possibly runs a cult, convinced Bea to travel to Sweden of all places on a whim.

Despite the obvious red flags, the prospect of being in a foreign country where she doesn't speak the language, and the voice of reason screaming at her NOT to do it; Bea did it.

She's always been this way truth be told, ever since she was a little kid, she knows she shouldn't but she does it anyway, because marching into Hell feels different than stumbling into it, even if she could have taken any other option.

At the end of the day, Bea supposes, she just wants to see what will happen.

She's the type of person who doesn't want to get involved with gossip, and yet needs to know all the details, and sometimes that requires her to get involved to some extent...

Although in this case, knowing that this could all be some ploy to drag her into something shady and illegal, the thought that echoes most prominently in her mind is...

"The worst they can do is kill me."

And in some strange way she finds comfort in that.

That, ultimately, coming here, she's accepting that as a possible outcome... and she's okay with it.

She's okay with the idea of dying.

Perhaps that's something she should be worried about.

But for now?

For now she waits for the car to take her somewhere far, far away...

DAMN YOU ALL REALLY LIKED THAT LITTLE DEWTHER KIT DRABBLE HUH

I’m so glad because I haven’t stopped thinking about Pearl. I’m literally figuring out lore and a design for her as we speak. Im making her a whole ass oc and you WILL be subjected to her :3