I Was Thinking About Ifrit Earlier. He Seems Like The Prideful Type To Never Admit He's Sick Until He's

I'm gonna need some dollar bills.

ghost stripper au when

Actually I'm okay with spoilers as this isn't anywhere near me. Here's to hoping there is a streaming release.

the ghost teams tips for the movie 💯

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

Hihi! I was wondering of you could write something about the ghouls (big or small) trying new foods? i think it could be really cute.

This idea just wouldn't leave my head after I saw this! Hope it's ok!

Cw: food, and not a warning but Dews words for things

It's a joy they never thought they'd have, something so small and simple was hugely important and brought more happiness than they could ever put to words.

They never thought that beyond a bottle and occasional oatmeal that the baby would ever really eat, it wasn't something they gave much thought to. But he'd made leaps and bounds in his healing and now...

"Dat?"

Rain blinks away his thoughts and looks over to what Dew is pointing at on Rain's plate.

"That is a shrimp." He holds it up for Dew to look at closer. "Do you want to try?"

He looks like he'd rather go eat dirt. "No. Ew bug!"

"It does kind of look like a bug." He kisses the top of Dew's little head. "You don't have to try it. Would you like more green beans?"

"Bean beans p'ease!"

Rain happily goes to grab him more and watches how he studies them, playing with them before he finally starts chomping away. He never knew something so simple would make him so proud.

He's not the only one. Every single one of them is happy to be a part of his journey, showing him new things to try.

He's perched on Mountain's knee one day out in the sun while the giant eats some grapes and Rain watches him bite them in half, being sure to pull the skin off before offering the baby little pieces.

He doesn't seem to like the purple ones, blowing raspberries and shaking his head, but green seem to be fine. Rain smiles at Mountain's unending patience, how he just let's Dew squish and explore without a care in the world simply because Dew is happy and bright.

His little hand touches Mountain's lips and he holds up one of his grapes. "Dis?"

"Grapes. Weintrauben."

He's not interested in repeating either word but he continues snacking and Mountain smiles down at him, nothing but peace in his eyes.

Swiss wasn't sure if Dew would be willing to try any of his food, tending to make his pretty spicy but he beamed when Dew eyeballed his plate one night and pointed at his rice, something more mild than usual.

"Dat?"

"Arroz Al la Mexicana." He offers a little bit on his finger and Dew stares at it for a while. Swiss almost pulls his hand back but Dew chomps down before he can. "Eat the rice but leave my finger you little devil!"

Dew giggles and Swiss watches his face as he decides if he likes it or not and he nearly jumps up with an excited cheer when he asks for more.

It doesn't always go well, sometimes he's just not in the mood, cranky or tired, or just simply more in the mood to play with it instead.

Aether has him in his highchair one morning while he sips his coffee and makes Dew a plate of fruits that he knows he likes. He keeps a mental note of Dews favorites but apparently he has other plans.

He growls at the plate when Aether sets it down and he watches him squish each strawberry.

"No tall babies!"

Aether can't help but laugh. "You like strawberries!"

He flings a chunk at Aether, clearly unamused by such an accusation.

"No tall babies!" He settles once he's got them all off his plate and is left with his watermelon and blueberries, eating happily and babbling away.

He catches Mountain later to ask if he knows what suddenly changed Dews mind about the strawberries.

"Oh, there were a bunch of wasps near the bushes the other day when I took him down to pick some. He was pretty unhappy about it, guess he holds a grudge."

Aether shakes his head and updates his mental list that "tall babies" are now a no.

Phantom is on the couch with their snack bowl while they watch tv and have an afternoon snack, even the other littles aren't spared from Dew's curiosity and are happy to share.

Dew pulls himself to stand in front of the couch, pointing at the puffy Cheetos Phantom is currently eating.

"Me p'ease!"

Phantom giggles and climbs off the couch. "H-hold on!" They run to the kitchen where Swiss is getting dinner prepped. "C-can Dew have s-some of my Cheetos?"

Swiss laughs when the baby crawls in behind Phantom, eyebrows pinched as he looks up at the bowl.

"Yeah, just keep him in here with them ok?"

Phantom sits on the floor and hands Dew one of the puffy, cheesy snacks. They giggle when Dew blows a raspberry at it at first but eventually he decides he likes it enough to ask for another one.

"G-good?"

"Teese toes!"

Phantom laughs so hard Swiss almost worries they'll run out of air but Dew claps and Phantom hands him another one.

There are still things he refuses to eat. He hates peas and carrots, he doesn't like things that are too sweet like cakes or cookies, he hates eggs and won't even look at them if they are offered.

His favorite is still broccoli and if he had it his way he'd have it morning, noon, and night.

It quickly becomes their favorite part of dinner when Dew is dropped and in a good mood, trying out new recipes to see if he will try it and even better, if he'll like it.

They don't take it for granted no matter how small it may seem because it shows his healing and how far he'd come and they will happily cheer on every single step out of the dark that he takes.

This has quickly became a favorite

Everything Goes On Pt. 8

[Who were you before him? Time skip again. Not suitable for younger audiences. Previous Part here.] Below the cut.

"This is Brisket." Dew says, holding up quite possibly the least intimidating dog to grace the face of the Earth, "He's a Chiweenie."

"A... A Chiweenie?" Mountain stares at the little creature, currently giving him the most wet eyed look in return, "This is your new Hellhound?"

"Hey, he may not look like much, but he's fierce!"

Brisket yawns and gets his tongue stuck outside of his mouth.

"I took you for more of a big breed dog kind of guy." Mountain says, watching the puppy drop his head into the palm of Dew's hand.

"Nah, I mean, I love all kinds of dogs, but living in a dorm with a St. Bernard sounds like a nightmare. It's also easier to travel."

"Is Brisket going on the road with us for tour then?" Mountain asks, "He could probably fit in your carry on..."

"Maybe next tour, for now, I mean, look at this guy." He rocks his arm slightly and the puppy's ears flop side to side, "He wouldn't make it through the opening act."

Mountain laughs, "So, what prompted this?"

He gestures at Brisket, and then at Dew's new, shorter haircut.

"Companionship." Dew says, holding up Brisket, "And not having anyone around to stop me."

"Hm, well, it suits you." Mountain says, picking up Brisket's head in his hands to squish his tiny face around a little.

"The puppy or the hair?"

"I mean, Brisket... I can't believe you named him that... is quite handsome in his own right, but I meant your hair." Mountain clarifies, "Not that your old style didn't, too, this one's just, I dunno, refreshing? Is that a word people use to describe hair?"

Dew snorts.

"Why Brisket though?"

"He smells like beef." the ghoul motions for Mountain to sniff the dog.

"Like in a good way or a bad-" Mountain sniffs Brisket again, "-Why does he smell like he rolled around in a barbecue??"

"Legend has it he was born in the behind some kind of bar and grille that served some pretty good steak..."

It has been three months since Aether left.

Three.

A whole quarter of a year, and Dew's starting to feel a little more grounded.

It helps when he has two new ghouls to coach through the motions of being "human" -Actually, Brisket was his own sort of reward to himself for not completely messing that up.- between teaching Aeon how to use a fork and getting Aurora to wear underwear, Dew hasn't had time to think of much else.

He still has his moments where he wakes up in his new room and gets confused, where he reaches over to the right side of the bed only to be met with the cold bedspread, but once he discovered he could spread out across the mattress unimpeded by another body, he'd more or less stopped.

It's the little things, he supposes, taking solace in the creature comforts he had forgotten after having to share his space and find compromises to make his other half happy...

Sure, it sucks not being able to roll over in the morning and get sleepy cuddles, but now he can fit a little bed on the other half for Brisket to sleep in, and that more than makes up for that.

Aether liked dogs, too, but he'd never let one sleep in their bed, claiming it would "spoil" them.

Well, too bad, Aether, Brisket is going to be as spoiled as a prince of Hell.

That being said, though, Dew does miss having another ghoul in his bed, and while there had been offers...

"It just doesn't feel right." he tells Cumulus one afternoon, "Feels like I'm cheating even though... ya know."

"You and Aether were together for four years," she says, "it's okay to need time."

"I know, but I'm not... I'm not sure when it's okay to... start all of that again."

"Having sex?"

"Kind of, but, I mean more like..." he lowers his voice, "...dating."

"Ohhh..." Cumulus pats his arm, "I'd say don't rush into all of that. You know what they say about rebound relationships..."

"Actually I... I don't." Dew whispers, "Aether was the only person I've ever dated."

"How'd you two wind up together anyway?" Cumulus asks, "Not to be rude, I mean, you two are, like, polar opposites."

"Not completely." Dew starts counting on his fingers, "We had a couple key things in common; We liked dogs, beer, music, obviously, and..."

The tips of Dew's ears go red.

"And?"

"There's this thing he could do with his tongue that he taught me how to do-"

.

.

.

Cirrus is... frustrated.

Cumulus has been avoiding her.

Not really, it's just...

"Cir, I love you, but you're being a little... suffocating lately." the smaller ghoulette had confessed, "I won't go anywhere just because we're not cuddling every second of the day, you know?"

Cirrus presses her face into her pillow and screams.

She can't help it.

Lately, it feels like if she isn't physically connected to Cumulus, it feels like they're drifting apart.

It's Dew's fault honestly.

Ever since Aether left him, he's been leaning on Cumulus for emotional support, even though he's not the only person hurt by...

By...

Cirrus rolls over in her bed, squeezing her pillow to her chest.

The night before Aether broke up with Dew...

"...Fuck, Cir..."

"Mn... Aeth... You feel so good..."

They aren't exclusive.

None of them are exclusive.

But something about it had felt...

Forbidden.

Good.

And now that she has time to reflect on it, it felt a lot like a goodbye, too.

"Does Dew know you're here?"

"He does, he doesn't care."

"Typical Dew."

"Yeah."

Dew knew, so there was... there was no guilt there.

Cumulus had known, too, but...

"Why are you apologizing? We all mess around."

...Why had she wanted her to be angry?

"...What's wrong with me?"

.

.

.

Swiss will admit, sometimes he makes poor decisions in the heat of the moment that result in... unfortunate circumstances...

"Your dick looks like a fucking glowstick." Dew gapes, beside him, Rain is positively shaking trying to contain his laughter, "Jack it off too hard and accidentally crack it or something?"

"You know the guard you set me up with a while back?" Swiss asks, tucking himself back into his pants, "Yeah, uh, turns out no matter where you stick it, this happens."

"I-It's like you dunked your junk in a vat of highlighter ink..." Rain cackles, "Does it come off?"

"Takes, like, two to three days for the... the glow to fade."

"So if you decided to jack off with the lights off, would your cum also glow? Like is it soaked in that far? Or is it like a weird sunburn?" Dew asks.

"..."

"Swiss?"

"...I need to go test something."

And, honest to Satan's balls, that was what Swiss was intent on doing when in his haste to get back to his dorm, he bumped into a sibling of sin walking through the corridors with-

"Aether?"

I woke up with this in my head. Aether leaves, Dew and Mountain struggle in their own ways.

Cw: angst, hurt/comfort

He waits until it's silent, until everyone is locked away in their rooms and nothing fills the air except for his heavy, uneven breathing. He tiptoes silently, skips the spots that creak, the ones that would scream out in the silence, letting everyone know he's broken and bleeding out every single night.

He tries not to look at Dew's door as he passes. He aches for his closeness, for his understanding but he can't make himself knock to ask for it. Not when Dew still smells like grief and heartbreak, like a cauterized wound still smoking. It's still too soon, ripped open and still bleeding and Mountain refuses to add his pain to the pilar Dew's currently buried under.

He keeps his eyes down and holds his breath, praying he won't hear him crying because he knows he can't fix him, not this time.

And it's a cold steel blade, a frozen lake in his lungs because it had been them, for so long it was them. They kept each other together when the others left, willingly or ripped away by force, they still stood and had each other.

But it wasn't enough and the goodbye was unexpected and more painful than the others. He had listened to Dew beg, sobbing on his knees to try to make him stay and Mountain couldn't do anything but stand and shake and remind himself to breathe. In and out. In…..and out.

He stops at the end of the hall, glares at the closed door and wants to demand it tell him that it was a lie, just a sick joke. But it stays closed and cold and empty. He slides down to sit beside it, not daring to look inside. He can't face the barren space, the echoing lack of life between those walls.

Traces of Aether are still on the air here and he breathes them in and holds them in his lungs and hopes it's enough to keep him there, at least the memory, the quickly fading sound of his voice, his laugh…

He sobs with his head in his hands, silently breaking in the gloom of the empty hallway. He tugs his hair, his ears, trying to remind himself that he's still here despite it all, he still feels but fuck he wishes he didn't…

He creeps back to his room after he's drained, after the tears run out and his throat hurts from keeping himself quiet, there are teeth marks in his fist and maybe another piece of himself missing, left there on the floor outside of Aether's room helplessly trying to crawl under the door to find him.

Sleep doesn't come, it rarely does. He stares up into the blackness of his room until his eyes burn, trying to put a face to the shadows, trying to find little flickering lights of magic in the corners to tell himself Aether still cares, that he's still willing to offer the comfort he once had but there's nothing. Just black staring back at him.

Mountain slips outside just as the sun starts to rise, silently fleeing to the greenhouse because he's not ready to face any of them with puffy bloodshot eyes, not ready for them to know that he's broken. They need to be there for Dew, he can't take that focus away.

He works until he can't anymore, running from his thoughts until he's too tired and they catch him. He doesn't remember hitting his knees, doesn't remember dropping the watering can and soaking the earth around his knees, doesn't remember covering his face and screaming into his hands because why? Why do they always leave? Why can't he make them stay? Why?

It hurts more than there are words for, and his arms wrap around his middle like maybe he can hold himself together as he rocks back and forth, trying to remember to breathe but what's the point when each breath just tastes like loss, like lies.

He doesn't hear the door open and by the time he realizes he's not alone it's too late, he can't hide it now, too far gone to even attempt to compose himself.

“Mountain…”

Dew's voice is fractured, rough from lack of use and hardly even over a whisper but Mountain's heart jumps regardless. He doesn't turn his head, he can't, Dew will shatter if he sees just how much pain Mountain's in.

“Mountain.” And maybe it's the only word he remembers right now and maybe Mountain shouldn't feel some kind of comforted by hearing it, but he does. He still doesn't look but he can hear Dew moving to sit on the bench. “Come here.”

Dew doesn't rush him, just lets the words hang in the space between them until Mountain's able to make them make sense. He struggles with the choice, stay planted where he is, kneeling in the mud with tears still dripping down his cheeks…or turn and crawl towards something that feels like home, no matter how broken it may be.

He crawls toward home, feels each little stone in his palms as he goes and he doesn't look up, he can't and knows Dew has to understand. If anyone understands it has to be him.

Dew watches him all but drag himself across the floor and he wants to grab him, to pull and tug until he's close enough to hold but he won't, he'll wait and meet Mountain where he is. Tears well up when he's close enough to lay his head on Dew's lap, his long arms wrapped around his leg, shaking as he holds on as tight as he can.

Dew runs his fingers through his hair, blinking against the tears, hating himself for his selfishness, hating that he'd left Mountain all alone with nothing but his thoughts and fears.

“It's ok.” He hears himself say it, feels the shape of each word and wonders if he actually believes that.

Mountain doesn't. Not yet. “No it's not.”

And he doesn't argue because Mountain hurts and he's allowed to hurt, but he's still here and so is Dew. He rests his palm against Mountain's cheek, letting him feel the warmth, a reminder of a still beating heart, a reminder that he's not going anywhere, at least not without one hell of a fight.

“You're right, it's not ok.” He lifts Mountain's face gently to look at him, to lock eyes to seal his promise. “But it will be. We will be.”

It’s uncanny how similar Trump is acting like Hitler. People are now doing the Nazi salute. They’re drawing the symbol. The KKK was seen in Kentucky asking people to join them. ICE has been ripping families apart. Companies have pulled back Diversity Initiatives. We’re no longer part of WHO and there won’t be any communication from the CDC at least until February 1st. We’re being censored and the news can’t be trusted. Thousands of Americans didn’t know there were protests against Trump yesterday outside the U.S. Quotes from The Handmaid’s Tale and Anne Frank have been compared to what’s going on right now.

According to The Lemkin Institute for Genocide Studies and Prevention the U.S. has officially been given a red flag alert for Genocide.

I’m exhausted but I will never stop being angry.

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...

The most powerful ghoul!! ;3

I’m totally not projecting onto dew rn but what if he got just a little too overwhelmed in a busy room? All the sights and sounds and smells and textures.

What happens when he breaks?

I too project onto Dew, friend! I'm always around if you need to talk, please remember that 🖤🖤🖤

I hope you enjoy!

He doesn't want to be here.

Every voice crashes on his ears in a crescendo, the bodies start getting too close like the walls are closing in. The scents, fear and want and the bitter spice of jealousy...

It's like a vicious attack on all of his senses and he feels like he's going to explode.

The candles in the room flare, his barely contained magic starting to slip from his shaky grasp on it.

He hates the way the eyes follow him, the important people from the other Abbey's watching him with a gaze that says "we know what you used to be, now look at you..."

They judge a rage they don't even know, judge him for the nervous shift in his eyes and the way his skin buzzes as he skirts around and tries not to touch.

Their greedy lungs pull in all the air in the room until there isn't enough left to trickle down to the little ghoul and he feels snuffed out, left gasping and dwindling second by agonizing second.

He feels alone despite the crowd, feels like at any second they are going to turn on him and rip him apart and there won't be a thing he can do. It's one against an army and he won't stand a chance.

He chokes down a growl and his eyes burn and he can vaguely smell the flames in the room get just a little hotter.

Someone bumps into him and it's like a kick against his spine.

He isn't going to make it.

"And this is Dewdrop, our fire ghoul." Sisters voice is steady, bored as she and the heads of the other clergies  make their rounds.

He can smell the judgement, he can see the way they observe him like a bug under a magnifying glass, like he's just some kind of specimen for them to dissect and study .

His heart is in his throat and he can't breathe around it.

"Ah, my ghoul, I've been looking for you!" Papa slides up behind him, gloved hand hovering just over Dew's shoulder. "Excuse us a moment."

"Papa-"

"We will be brief, Sister." He waves her off and extends his arm, gesturing for Dewdrop to walk ahead.

He hangs his head like he's being led to his execution. The only reason papa would pull him off would be to reprimand him, to scold him for not holding himself with dignity before their company.

He wonders if this will be the straw that breaks the camels back, if finally they've had enough of all the tumultuous emotions of an unhinged fire ghoul.

Papa slides in front of him and leads him down a winding hall, their steps and Dew's heavy, uneven breathing the only sounds around them.

He almost misses all the voices...the silence around them seems more oppressive than the over crowded room had.

Papa shoves open a door and leads the shaking ghoul behind him out onto one of the more hidden terraces.

Goosebumps rise on his arms when the cool air wraps around his overheated body and he can't make himself meet Copia's eyes.

"Dew-"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I couldn't....I tried i-"

Copia holds his hands up to silence him, to dam off the river of words spilling out of his mouth. Dew snaps his jaws shut and casts his eyes to his boots, chest heaving and head spinning.

He flinches when Copia steps into his space and unbuttons the top few buttons on his shirt, pulling it away from Dew's throat.

"Breathe for me, stellina." He rests his hands on his shoulders. "You're safe out here with me. Just breathe."

He manages a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry papa, I just...I couldn't do it anymore."

"That's ok. I was hiding in the back myself. I never did like these things."

"Just feel-"

"Judged? Trapped? Small?" Copia tilts his head with a sad little twist of his lips. "I understand, Piccolino."

It hits him in the chest, the realization that Copia had been struggling too. He presses close and scents his neck, eyes closing when his heart slows.

"Fuck those people."

Copias laugh stomps out the last of his anxiety and his shoulders release their tension when he wraps his arms around Dews slim waist.

He kisses Dews temple and squeezes him tighter, letting the little ghoul rest and breathe against him.