Coulduseprozac - Whatever

Void I am asking you about Special Ghoul

Shout out to @floating--goblin for suffering Special brainrot with me :))

Special is, well…A special case.

He was the first multi. Not the first attempt, but the first to survive the process. Dozens before him, none of them made the cut. Succumbing to the elements, expiring during the process, too many failures to count. It’s a nasty, violent affair of conflicting elements never meant to mix together but they’re forced to. Mingling in his vessel with all the stability of a nuclear reactor rapidly approaching a meltdown. Barely kept from complete failure by the grace of some watchful force that seemed to enjoy his prolonged suffering. Special was never given a choice, he was always meant to become this thing.

While he was the first to make it out, he was hardly what the clergy would consider a success. Body mangled and abused, he’s forced to draw on the very things tearing him apart to prove himself at the well polished heels of a woman hardly interested in the display in front of her. Special tries. He reaches into himself and claws desperately at the flickering presence caught within the depths of his being. Pulling and ripping at his very atoms to prove his worth with all he could muster.

Not all of it stuck. Some elements were lost in the process. The only things he could find within himself were water and a horrific untamable flicker of quintessence. Special came up short. He didn’t meet the mark and the woman stared at him with such cold indifference he might as well have died in the process. A stain on the pentagram before her. She turned and Special felt his chilled heart leap up behind his teeth. He crawled after her like a dog for the chance to grovel for approval - approval he never knew he needed until she turned her back on him.

And a dog he was. Sister’s dog. Constantly seeking favor he will never find.

Bending beyond backwards for her, Special keeps his hands dirty and hers immaculate. There’s blood beneath his nails and viscera in his teeth all at her command. Devotion turned violent. Lethal. Special lurks the halls. He is what goes bump in the night. The shadow fueling ghost stories passed from sibling to sibling, what keeps toes behind the line. He is the unspoken consequence you never hope to face.

Years pass. Faces come and go. Power is passed along. She grows older and he stays the same. He never strays though. Disobedience was torn from his body the day she ordered him to be remade. To be reborn in the image she desired, and while he didn’t fit the picture, he still forced himself into the mold. Crammed himself to fit what she had hoped him to be but her glances continued to brush over him. It only makes him yearn for her attention all the more.

He never hesitates when she speaks in his direction. Even when she puts the syringe in his hand. Special is loyal. A good soldier that follows orders.

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

DO IT!

swiss' big fat crush on aurora. discuss. who makes the first move. how does it go.

OOOOOH

not hcs, not a ficlet- just me talking. If this is wack, it’s cuz I wrote it in Tumblr Mobile and I’m also Intoxicated !

Swiss was there when she was summoned. He watched her crawl out of the Pit. Watched how she fought her way topside, snarling as she entered the world, and he was smitten.

He doesn’t see her for a while after that. Recovering from literally clawing your way out of the depths of hell is no easy process. In that time, Swiss develops a bit of a… fixation. Can’t stop thinking about how powerful she looked in the summoning room, how alluring. For the next little while, Swiss has a one track mind.

When will I see Aurora again?

After a couple weeks, she moves into the ghoul den, and Swiss can’t help but follow her around like a lovesick puppy. The others tease him for it, but he doesn’t care. Can’t find it in himself to stay away.

For once in his life, Swiss’s signature charm fails him. He’s dead terrified to talk to her. She’s just so pretty. He tries to approach her and just comes off as super creepy, gawking at her and tripping over his words.

She secretly thinks it’s adorable. Loves to watch him flounder. She plays hard to get just to watch him squirm, acting like she isn’t just as flustered.

He FINALLY decides to make an actual move, after much encouragement from Dew and Mountain. They even offer to help. Mountain pretties up the greenhouse, Dew cooks a fancy dinner for two, and Swiss approaches Aurora.

He barely gets the words out, shaking in his damn boots where he stands. He’s real awkward about it, blushing and stuttering, but he manages to invite her for dinner in the abbey’s greenhouse just before sunset.

She LOVES that he’s nervous. Gives her a sense of superiority in a way, knowing she’s got Swiss wrapped around her finger. He’d be so easy for her, and she’s worked up by that- more than she’d admit until later.

So that night, she walks into the greenhouse and Swiss FREEZES. Everything he wants to say absolutely gone from his mind.

She looks hell-sent in the best way possible, her hair sleek and shimmering, her horns polished to a near-reflective gleam.

She flashes him a coy smile as she approaches him. “Swiss- you look lovely. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Hwahh?”

He’s never been so damn dumbstruck in his LIFE. Can’t even greet her. It takes all of his effort to even close his mouth.

She giggles, strides right past him, and sits at the cute little table that Mountain decorated.

Swiss realizes something in that moment.

He’s fucked. In way over his head with this one. He’d let her ruin his life, no hesitation. There’s no hope for him.

And he’s going to love every second of it.

Not me pulling up in your driveway like I live there, listening to my favorite Swedish satanic band, bringing you your Doordash order.

No because imagine Mountain either leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed… sleeves rolled

*deep breath* OR

Mountain leaning against the doorframe but his arms are above his head, him holding onto the frame making his muscles visibly show… he knows what effect it has on everyone so he tightens and relaxes his muscles just to see them get all flustered

*Im struggling over here*

Mushy May Day 22: Reminiscing

Mountain wakes in the middle of the night and watches his mates sleep.

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

Another alternate prompt for today!

Mountain can't sleep. It's strange. He's normally the first of the three of them out, snoring gently before his partners have even closed their eyes. Normally sleeps through the night without fail. But despite being awake, he cherishes it, the room dark, barring the silver moonlight that slips through their curtains, just enough to see by.

He turns in Dew's arms, slowly, carefully, not to wake him. But if Dew can sleep through Aether's snoring, rattling in his chest like a chainsaw, Dew can sleep through anything. The fire ghoul's expression is peaceful, eyes gently closed and moving under lids, dreaming. The furrow between his brows is smoothed over, and Mountain can't help himself from brushing a strand of spun gold hair back behind the point of his ear.

It moves his hair off of his neck, and it's just barely bright enough to make out the silvery, parallel scars that line the sides of Dew's throat. Mountain exhales through his nose, unable to resist bringing his fingertip down, tracing featherlight over one of the long cauterized scars.

Dew's ear twitches, piercings jingling, and Mountain pulls his hand back. He stirs, but doesn't wake, mumbling something nonsensical. Mountain's lips quirk up, just staring fondly at his smaller mate. He remembers when those scars were fluttering teal fins, when the spun gold hair was silver.

It makes something pang deep in his heart, the remembering. When things were unimaginably bad, when the three of them clung to each other like fresh, new kits too scared to leave the nest. Scents changing, sea salt to campfire.Terrified, unsafe, paranoid of every shadow.

Things are better now, the band den full of pack again, ghouls that Mountain loves with everything he has. And he has Aether and Dew, peacefully asleep in their shared nest.

He smiles, moving to settle back down. There's a hand curling around his bicep, and he jolts, Aether's eyes glowing amethyst in the dim light as they meet Mountain's.

"Everything okay, nova?" Aether whispers, voice gruff with sleep. "I knew you woke up early for the greenhouse, but I didn't think it was this early yet." The joke is light in his tone, thumb smoothing over his freckled skin, right on his farmer's tan line.

Mountain snorts quietly, kicking into a rumbling purr. "I dunno why I'm up, sorry for waking you."

Aether shrugs with one arm, the other pillowed under Dew's head. "You didn't, not really, just sort of... felt your emotions. More intense than they usually are this late."

"I was just thinking," he says, eyes drifting down to their mate between them. The grip on his arm tightens, Aether's thumb still rubbing in an arc over his bicep.

"We're okay, we made it," Aether whispers, and Mountain nods.

"I know, this is real."

"We earned it, we earned our rest," he says, eyes half-lidded with sleep but still so kind and warm, the magick swirling in his irises like galaxies.

"If we earned our rest, can we please fucking sleep?" Dew mumbles groggily, shifting between them with an adorable pout on his lips.

"Sorry, firefly," Mountain whispers, leaning down to press a kiss on his mate's forehead, letting Dew pull him closer. Their legs tangle together, and Mountain can feel Dew's pulse where their chests are pressed together, remembers how feathery and frantic it was back then, just how much terror tinged their scents. It was so bad they had to get new sheets.

Dew's expression softens, wrapping his arms around Mountain's torso, squeezing him that much tighter. "You okay, junie?" His voice is soft, sweet, the way he speaks to them versus the way he speaks to the rest of the pack.

Mountain nods, a soft keen slipping past his lips as he ducks down again and nuzzles into the crown of Dew's head, avoiding the sharp point of his little obsidian horns. "I love you two," he whispers, eyes darting from Dew's to Aether's and back. "So much. I don't know what to do with it all, I love you so much."

He can see the way Aether's cheek dimples as he smiles fondly over Dew's shoulder, can feel the way Dew's grip around his middle tightens. "Love you too, junie," Dew whispers, breath infernally hot against the shell of Mountain's ear.

Aether's hand squeezes his bicep in three quick pulses. "Love you too, sweet thing. Don't know what I'd do without the two of you."

Dew cranes his neck, peering over his shoulder at him. "You won't have to find out, swear it on our Father Below," he declares, a stubbornness set in his shoulders, and Aether leans down and kisses him. He turns, leaning over Dew's narrow shoulders to kiss Mountain too, tasting the beeswax of his lipbalm.

"Alright," Dew huffs, pulling the two of them back down to the mattress. "I love you two dearly, but can we please sleep?"

"Anything for my darlings," Aether hums, wrapping his arms around the two of them, hauling them closer to him. "Good night."

Dew hums, satisfied, copper eyes shutting as he snuggles between them. Very quickly, Mountain's the only one still awake. He looks at his mates, feels their body heat burning warm. He settles into the nest, breathing in their oh-so familiar scents, and lets that carry him back to sleep.

Mushy May Day 15

Painting on each other

Pairing; Dewdrop/Aeon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it a sex thing?” They questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This probably one of the best I've read on here.

Your angsty Dew stuff is killing me I am here to humbly request more <3

Of course, sweetheart! Here's more Dew struggling with quint magic being used.

Also, so sorry for doing Aeth like this but...it just wouldn't leave me alone so here we are. I will make it up to him, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!

Non-con use of magic! Dew feels dirty about it please read with caution angels!

It's all angst all the time.

Omega is the first to use it against him without his permission. He never uses it maliciously, never takes over and drives Dew to madness even though he could. He could warp Dew into a completely different Ghoul, could throw him head first off a cliff and Dew wouldn't be able to fight.

When he feels Dew retreating in on himself he pulls him out.

Dewdrop can feel it in his brain like little fingers tugging and pulling him where they want him. Sometimes he'll struggle, try to keep his walls firmly in place but he's not strong enough against Omega.

He feels like a rag doll sometimes, like he's a puppet and Omega holds his strings.

The little water ghoul knows he means well, does it to keep him safe and happy but…

When Aether comes and starts training, he's even stronger than Omega is.

He asks Dew if he can use it during sex and at first he likes it, it's like more hands on his body, lips and tongues and Aether can have him seeing whatever he wants. It's fun to play with…

But then sometimes he's just sitting there and he feels it creeping up over his spine and into his hair, nipping at the tips of his ears and he wants to scream. He knows it's part of Aether but it isn't him really.

Sometimes it feels like a violation and it hurts so bad he can't stand it.

He uses it to keep him docile when he starts to panic and lash out, slips into his head and pokes and prods and pulls up things Dew doesn't want anyone else to know about. He's glassy eyed and limp in his arms by the time Aether pulls out of his mind.

Dewdrop understands he means well, trying to keep him from fighting himself but it feels like he wants him to change, to rip out his anger and keep him sweet. Dew likes his anger, it's a shield that keeps his heart protected and when it's stripped away he feels too open, weak to attack.

When he decides to leave and move on to another Abbey he tells Dew he can make it feel like he's never existed, can pull himself out of Dew's memories.

He screams until he can't breathe, until Mountain kicks in the door and punches Aether and scoops Dew up into his arms and cradles him.

He feels shattered, dirty, broken…

Then Phantom comes and Dew can't stand him on principal alone.

Aether had hurt him, deeply wounded him, but still seeing someone replace him felt like a kick to the teeth.

He could tell he was strong. The little ghoul just vibrating with magic.

Dew kept a wide berth and refused to pay too much attention, tries not to do anything that would make him want to use it against him.

He sees him use it on Swiss and Rain when their bodies ache, the way they sag in relief and thank him, how he quickly reigns it back in as soon as he helped them. He's seen the way he gently slips into Mountain's dreams when the big ghoul has a nightmare and twitches and whimpers in his sleep, offers just enough to take the edge of fear away.

Panic hits Dew hard and fast, usually out of no where and violent enough to leave him breathless and on his knees shaking.

He tries to keep it hidden, never wants to bother the pack but Phantom finds him. Dew's distress shining neon and screaming out to his quintessence.

He sits beside him, keeps his hands to himself. "What can I do?"

Dew tells him to leave, pulls his knees up tight under his chin and begs him to just leave.

He doesn't. He lays a steady hand on Dew's shaking shoulder and just sits with him.

Dew can feel his magic around him, feels the way it wants to reach out but Phantom won't let it touch him.

He doesn't understand. Phantom is the strongest quint he's ever felt but he hasn't once tried to pin Dewdrop down and rearrange his mind to make him more palatable. He keeps it locked tight.

He let's Phantom hug him, lets him pull him into his lap and pet his hair. He's warm and soft and Dew wants it so bad he can taste it.

"Don't use it on me…don't ever use it on me." He knows he's begging, knows Phantom will probably ask about it at some point.

"I won't. I promise I won't, Dew."

And he wants to believe that, wants to let those words sit in his brain and close over the wounds left by magic he wanted nothing to do with. But he knew how quickly soft hands could turn to fists and how tempting that power could be.

All he hopes is that when Phantom decides to destroy him, he at least does it quickly.

Ficlet requests, well don't mind if I do. Could you possibly gift us any thoughts on Aether and Mountain's first kiss?

oh. oh. im in my big boy feels, abs. how could you do this. ohhhh noooo. it would be so sweet i just know it. i can think of about ten different ways it could happen, but they all turn out so mushy and soft and UGH. them. they are so special to me. AND to each other.

things get a little rough from time to time for mount after the first few months topside, but leave it to aether to know just how to help <3

Mountain grunts in frustration, sending two halves of another broken stick tumbling down the riser steps. 

Fuck, he mutters, his infernal tongue slipping out. He scrubs his face with his sore hands, cursing the Dark One for fating him to play instruments. He can’t get these fills right; his simple rhythms are starting to falter, too, with the exhaustion of playing the same songs over and over and over.

He’s tired. Overwhelmed. Calluses newly formed on the palms of his hands screaming at him to stop. Zephyr had assured him—multiple times—he’s doing just fine, holding his own. But right now it sure doesn’t feel like it.

A boisterous chuckle sounds from behind the door before it opens, Aether stepping into the practice room. Mountain’s face burns with the desire to resist his perception, to go unnoticed.To sulk in private. 

“Oh! Hey, Mount; didn’t realize . . .” He takes stock of the broken drumsticks littered in front of his kit and the droop in the earth ghoul’s shoulders. “Hey,” he says softer, walking across the space. His grin turns to a concerned frown. “Everything okay?”

Mountain avoids his eyes. He makes a noncommittal noise, raising his shoulders in an unconvincing shrug. Stubborn. He knows he is. It’s not like Aether has ever given him any trouble; quite the opposite. He’s kind, jovial, gets along with everyone. Doesn’t prod Mountain to interact with the rest of the pact when he senses his need for alone time. 

He’s thankful for that in the whirlwind of the past few months. He is. Unfortunately, Mountain would rather crawl into a hole lest he burst into angry tears in front of his packmate. 

“Mount?” Aether’s voice is so gentle. He steps carefully up to his level, still keeping respectful distance. He fiddles with the rings on one hand, face equally hopeful and worried. 

“I can leave, if you wanna practice,” Mountain mumbles, avoiding the question. 

“You don’t have to do that. But. Wanna make sure you’re okay first.”

Mountain takes a shaky breath. Fighting against the shyness that threatens to make him go mute. “Just . . .” He nudges the edge of his kick pedal with his socked foot. “Hard time.”

Aether hums and nods. “Sound good though. Promise.” There’s that smile again, genuine and wide. 

A sad grin tugs at Mountain’s mouth as he nods a silent thanks. There’s a pause. A moment where the earth ghoul doesn’t know if he should say something or clumsily go back to his confidence-shattering practice session. Aether visibly brightens before he can do either.

“I’ve got something that might help, if you’d like.”

Mountain laughs pitifully. “Yeah?”

He nods, already bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Nothing crazy, I swear.” Aether’s already bounding down the steps by the end of his sentence. He walks backwards towards the door, hand outstretched to point towards Mountain. “Just stay there! I’ll be right back.” He turns and leaves the room just as quickly as he came, shutting the door behind him. Mountain can hear the thudding of his eager footsteps echo down the hall, fading away as he disappears back into the abbey. 

Mountain smiles softly to himself. Always helping, that quintessence ghoul. He pulls another drumstick from the caddy and flicks it back and forth between his hands, too curious of Aether’s plans to go back to practicing. 

He only has to wait at most ten minutes before the door’s opening again, albeit much more slowly and more creaky than before. Aether’s back emerges before the rest of him, and when he turns around, he’s brandishing two tall mugs, steam billowing out of the holes in the lidded tops.

“I’m back!” he says cheerily, as if it weren’t obvious. “Something to soothe the infernal soul.” The quintessence ghoul returns to his spot as before and holds out the mug to Mountain. A waft of orange, cinnamon, and vanilla hits his nostrils, piquing his interest and perking his droopy ears. 

“Ah, thought you might like that,” Aether lilts, handing him the mug. “Careful though, still hot.”

Mountain trills at the warmth of the mug and the warmth of the scent rising from it. The mug is thick, shielding most of the heat away from his hands while still allowing some of it to warm the ceramic evenly. He closes his eyes, sighing heavily as it starts to soothe his aching palms. 

“Rest a little bit. You deserve it.” Aether pats his shoulder. “I’m gonna tune up. Let me know if there’s anything we can work on together.”

The sound of him turning on his heel to relocate to his respective station snaps Mountain out of his momentary zen. His hand shoots out to grab Aether by the forearm, pulling him back towards himself.

“Wait,” Mountain says hastily. Aether looks at him expectantly, glancing briefly at the place his hand wraps around his arm. The earth ghoul stares back, wide-eyed and searching for something he can’t name. His heart beats once, twice, three times. And just as Aether’s about to open his mouth and breathe what, before he even really realizes what he’s doing, Mountain rises up just far enough off his stool and closes the distance between them, giving him the quickest, chastest of kisses. 

Mountain freezes just inches from Aether’s face, a classic deer in the headlights. Aether stares back, mouth slightly parted and quirked up on one side. 

“Uh.” His face heats up in embarrassment. “Thanks,” he mumbles. 

Aether just looks at him with that silly grin, eyes sparkling and the faintest lavender blush of his own coloring his cheeks. Then he clears his throat, shakes his head almost imperceptibly. 

“You’re welcome, Mount,” he says softly, a boyish smile creeping up on his handsome features.

Mountain sits back down, hand slipping off of his arm, and he wishes the pit would open up and swallow him whole right here in the middle of the practice hall.

“Hey. C’mere.” Aether grabs his free hand gently, tugging him to stand again. “How ‘bout a real one?” He grabs Mountain’s mug and sets them both on the small table the earth ghoul has behind his kit. Then, ever so carefully—oh Lucifer—Aether cradles both sides of his face in his hands and pulls Mountain in.

His eyes flutter shut at the touch of his lips, warm despite Aether’s alignment with the void. He turns his head slightly and their mouths slot together, and Mountain can’t help the quiet, happy sigh that escapes him. The quintessence ghoul smiles against his lips and hums too. Thumbs brushing along the ridges of his freckled cheekbones. 

It’s sweet and slow, close-lipped—mouths pulling apart with soft sounds just to meet again in a languid and tender little dance. Innocent, really. But that doesn’t stop Mountain’s chest from blooming with butterflies, insides going pleasantly fuzzy. Doesn’t stop his tail from thumping against the worn carpet. His hands open and close at his sides, unconsciously resisting the urge to touch. 

He thinks if he does, he won’t be able to stop. 

Mercifully, Aether pulls away before he can turn into a mushy, weak-kneed puddle. When he opens his eyes again, the quint ghoul is looking up at him with the fondest expression, hands still cupping the sides of his face. 

“Was that okay?” Aether asks. 

Mountain blinks. “Um.” He pulls away and wipes his kiss-swollen lips with the back of his hand. “I don’t . . . think I want to practice anymore,” he mutters, slightly dazed. 

Aether stares at him, a brief flash of anxiety crossing his features. It’s replaced with relief, however, after no more than two seconds of awkward silence, laughter bursting unbidden from deep in his chest when he understands what Mountain means. The beautiful sound of it reverberates off the practice room walls and makes a home in the earth ghoul’s mind as one of the best sounds he’s heard thus far in his topside life.