I Want You To Remember:

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.

as the drummer, i think mountain deserves to have his cunt smacked.

Mushy May Day 7: First Kiss

Weeks of Mountain and Rain dancing around each other come to a head.

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

He/they pronouns for Rain

They dance around each other for weeks. Mountain still reeling from the sudden, bone deep rift that came with the death of the Papa that summoned him, the forced retirement of the majority of his pack, and Rain still learning how to exist outside of the Pits.

It doesn't stop them from starting to gravitate towards each other. They are both part of the rhythm section, after all. They share glances through silver masks, sapphire to emerald, while Copia instructs the other ghouls. They pretend it isn't happening, but after a while, it's completely undeniable. Of course, they don't talk about it, but it is happening, there's something there and Mountain's not certain what it is.

Aether clings to Dew after it all, having already been clingy before everything had Happened. Mountain doesn't blame him, not at all, but it means that he's alone for the first time since the Pit.

The water ghoul approaches him after one practice, the tour looming ahead of them. His bass is held in nervous fingers as he wanders back towards Mountain's kit on its riser, Copia and the other ghouls filtering out of the practice room.

"I'm-" Rain starts, swallowing hard; Mountain sees the way their throat works. "I'm having trouble with Pinnacle. Could we run it? Me and you?"

Mountain freezes, halfway through packing up his sticks. He wasn't certain what they were going to say, but this wasn't exactly it. He turns to the water ghoul, his eyes wide. "Of course," he says, feeling his cheeks start to heat against the metal covering his face. "What part's givin' you trouble?"

"The section after the first chorus is... Difficult," Rain says, tone a little strange, but Mountain pays it no mind. His attention is drawn to the way Rain scuffs his shoe against the practice room floor.

Mountain opens his mouth to speak, ready to point Rain in Dewdrop's direction, knows that Dew knows the Pinnacle bassline front and back, but shuts his mouth. He glances around at the otherwise empty practice room before taking his mask off, setting down beside his kit. His glamour fades slightly, rolling his neck to ease the crick in his spine as he sheds some of the magick.

He looks at them, earnest and happy to help. He settles back onto his stool. "Start from the chorus, alright? We'll work through it."

Rain nods, awkwardly taking his own mask and setting it on a storage crate. He sets his hands on the frets, long, elegant fingers hidden behind a pale human glamour. It fades, revealing powder-blue skin. Rain takes a deep breath, eyes locked on Mountain's, and they start.

Mountain helps them work through Pinnacle the best he can. He's never considered himself a great teacher, but he has played this song in front of thousands of screaming humans, what feels like hundreds of times.

They're not in front of anyone now, just each other. And Mountain wouldn't call Rain shy. He's seen the glint in their eyes, the sharp snap of teeth. He's not shy, they're just new. Mountain remembers being new as he watches Rain work his way through the bridge.

As they both play, Mountain comes to a sudden realization: Rain knows this part. They know it. He's not sure if it's a confidence thing that made them come to him, or something else, but Rain wanted to play it with him. He looks at them as they start to lose themself in the music.

It's just them, two thirds of the rhythm section. This feels right. Mountain feels the kick drum in his chest in a way he hasn't felt in a very long time. Or that's just his heart. He doesn't know, and he doesn't really care.

Eventually they stop, Rain's chest heaving as he takes a deep breath. "Thank you, Mountain."

He smiles, genuine and warm. "You're doing excellent, tadpole."

Rain's cheeks flush, an almost dusky violet. It makes tiny, silvers freckles stand out on their skin, almost iridescent where they're splattered over their cheeks and the curved bridge of their nose. "Thank you," he says again.

Rain wanders closer, bass set reverently in its stand. His eyes, wide and shark-like, focus on Mountain.

The earth ghoul stands to his full height, steps out from behind his kit, down the riser. He tries his best not to loom.

Rain gets closer still, drawn like an orbiting star. Mountain reaches out, cupping a big hand against their face, watching teal gills flutter against his throat. He tilts his head, watching the way Rain leans into the touch.

"May I kiss you?" Mountain blurts out, cheeks flushing a dark olive.

Rain's eyes go wide like saucers, mouth opening and closing like, well, a fish. "Yes," they say, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Mountain fights every urge he has to just take, leaning down gently as he tips their face up, capturing their lips with his. Rain tastes like salt, the sea on a sunny summer day, and Mountain knows within an instant of the contact that he's going to be chasing that taste the moment they pull away.

They break, and Mountain barely has a moment to catch his breath before Rain's surging up, lithe fingers curled around his suspenders and pulling.

Rain's new. They're hungry, sharp, serrated teeth nipping at Mountain's bottom lip. The earth ghoul groans like the wind's been knocked out of him. It certainly feels like it. He grins into the kiss and pulls them closer.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

SOUND THE DREAD ALARM!!! ☠️

Per’s first live. I could not watch the whole thing, but what I saw was pretty sweet. Got to see him cuddle his dog🤍

****DISCLAIMER****

I currently don’t care if Per is controversial in his dating practices. He seems like a decent guy in and of himself and it’s none of our business who he dates.

I’ve recently already been heartbroken to find out ONE of my heroes turns out to be a gaslighting jackass, and life has objectively SUCKED for me on a daily basis anyway, so yeah, please miss me with any Sodo controversy, right now. Thanks.

How in the actual fuck did that happen? Why?

He has no right to be that way.

https://twitter.com/sodomizergirl/status/1682154072860680195

Returning the favor because GODDAMN ILL BE WATCHING THIS ON A LOOP

I just died 😳😵‍💫😵

FUCK YEAH

thanks to @cirrus-ghoulette for organizing whumpmonth!! also i'm using @wrathofrats beautiful dividers!!

so i wrote this thing a while ago and decided to write some parts of it from someone else's point of view for today :)

Day Four: Scars

TW: blood, violence, scars, vomit

It was hard, harder than Dew thought.

And it might have looked so easy for him but still, it was really hard for him to hate Phantom.

Or at least, it was easy at first.

Dewdrop can see himself in the little quint, he knows that he's a runt just like him, he knows that they both never had packs in the pit, he knows the want, the yearning for a pack.

He knows that they can't give it to Phantom.

He keeps finding reasons to hate him, stupid ones really, he can't hate him for Aether's leaving for long, hasn't ever really.

And maybe it's just because he can still feel the soft skin under his claws, maybe it's because he can still smell Phantom's pain in the air, still can taste it on the tip of his tounge, still can feel his lips moving to form the words "Oh, sorry." that Dewdrop started to look for the new quint ghoul more.

He notices how Phantom doesn't heal himself, and it hurts Dew to think that maybe Phantom thinks that he deserve those scars on his face, but he gives him time.

He keeps watching from afar.

And maybe Dew ignored all those rumors about Phantom getting sent back for his own sake, because it was obvious that Phantom took them to heart, but it'll be okay, Dew knows that this too will pass.

He never got too close, but never took his eyes off of the quint.

Dewdrop was awake, he couldn't really sleep that night, something about not being able to see the stars.

He flinched when he heard Phantom vomiting, his face curling in worry when he smelled the blood.

It's okay though, Phantom will be okay.

Dewdrop never approached the other.

Maybe it's because he knew that Phantom will make it to the end of the tour, maybe it's because he secretly prayed to Satan for the quintessence ghoul.

Maybe that's why he felt that tingle in the back of his head, maybe that's why he knocked on Phantom's door relentlessly.

Maybe that's why he broke it down.

And maybe all what Dew ever saw in Phantom was the same passion to burn without dying that Ifrit saw in him when he was water.

And if Dew promises to the stars that danced on Phantom's floor before fading away to always have Phantom as a part of his pack, well.

It's not like Phantom knows that.

The band Ghost is so fucking funny to me. Their frontman currently looks like this:

Or some version of a horny goth clown, but the guy underneath it has got the wettest saddest eyes I've ever seen. Just look at him:

This man admits to being very sensitive and cries at the drop of a hat.

He has a wife and kids.

He wears the costume because he doesn't like the way he looks on stage as a rockstar.

He treats the audience like his children. They're officially called the children of Ghost for that and also because of the play on "children of god."

The band literally fucks around on stage while riffing this badass music. They go through physical comedy skits every concert like the three stooges. For example:

Two demons throw guitar picks at each other when they get angy.

One guy grinds and licks the stage like a cat in heat.

One of them shakes their tits at goth clown man and scares him shitless.

One of them twirls goth clown man like a ballerina as he dances by them.

Several of them slap goth clown's ass when he waddles by.

He created the band to make people happy, to celebrate being a fucking weirdo because he always felt left out, and to make fun of Christianity because it makes people feel bad. He lost his older brother, and it tore him up so bad that the music he made as a result launched him into a worldwide music career.

This man ends every concert "ritual" with three things:

1. Be nice to each other

2. Help each other

3. Go fuck yourself

(Literally and figuratively)

Their music is 70% "fuck me I'm so horny", 10% "I love you so much" and 20% "ethereal badass metal".

Look at how much fun he's having, dude.

It's literally just a rock band filled with the nicest people on earth wearing costumes like a Shakespearean play. And all they do is make up funny little lore stories and serve cunt.