Light A Candle Or Curse The Darkness

Hyp. Your awesome. Your writing is awesome. Could be kinda awesome if you wrote some good ol' RainDrop in a bit of an enemies to lovers or a classic hate fuck situation? Only awesome if ur feeling it, obviously. If not that's cool. Just thought I'd ask to see if your awesome brain came up with anything 🤭

heheh thank you! i had some lore kinda thoughts and it turned into whatever this is. they're not fucking (yet) here, but the enemies to lover vibe is strong. I hope it's okay :3

(and look at my new divider by the amazing @ghuleh-recs!!!)

“What on earth are you doing with that bass?”

Rain jumps at the harsh voice of the other ghoul. He thought he was alone in the practice room—and maybe he was, but obviously not anymore.

“Playing,” he replies, trying his best to sound sure of himself and confident, but it comes out more as a question.

“Making an even bigger idiot out of yourself than you already are is what you’re doing,” Dewdrop scoffs. Rain tries to ignore that pang of hurt in his chest at his words, but it’s hard when every single day for the last weeks all that the fire ghoul’s been doing is showering him in hate. He thinks he may just about have had enough.

Still, he lacks the courage to do anything about it, anyway. When it comes to flight or fight, Rain chooses the former over and over again.

“I’m just gonna go if you need the room,” he says quietly and turns to put his bass away.

“Sure, go abuse that thing somewhere else.” The water ghoul has no idea what Dewdrop is on about. Maybe he is doing something wrong, but how would he know? He doesn’t have a mentor to teach him like all the other ghouls that were summoned to their pack with him.

Rain sighs, packs the bass and turns to leave with his head hung low.

Before he can actually leave, though, Dewdrop stops him. He stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest and he’s glaring up at Rain as if he has expected him to do something else.

“Who told you to pick like that?” he asks. Rain’s eyes are dragged to a wrinkle between his eyebrows. It seems permanent, always there with his frown, but the water ghoul thinks he could actually be really pretty if he just…got rid of that everlasting anger etched in his features.

“No one,” Rain tells him the truth. “I’ve been trying to figure stuff out on my own.”

“Why?” Dewdrop asks, seeming completely oblivious. Rain gets a little confused now, too. He knows the fire ghoul’s history, he knows it should be him teaching him his instrument. Did Dewdrop himself forget?

Suddenly Rain gets bolder.

“Well, I don’t exactly have a teacher,” he says louder, straightening up. “I’m doing my best, unlike someone.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Dewdrop growls and takes a step forward. He’s small—way smaller than Rain—but the pure fire in his eyes can intimidate. Still, the water ghoul doesn’t move.

“You know what! You can’t call me an idiot for not being great at something I have zero idea about just because the person who was supposed to teach me decided to…I don’t know, hate me for no reason!”

Dewdrop’s eyebrows shoot up.

He looks like Rain’s words…got to him and the water ghoul doesn’t know how to feel about it. Is it just a calm moment before the storm, is he about to be burned to the ground with Dewdrop’s anger? His anxious brain manages to come up with a multitude of doomsday scenarios in those short moments.

But what happens is so very different from all of those scenarios.

Dewdrop looks down and scoffs as if he’s regretting what he’s about to do, before he swiftly reaches out and grabs Rain’s arms to keep him close when he stands on his tiptoes and presses his burning lips against the water ghoul’s cold ones.

Rain huffs into the kiss in surprise, but quickly finds it…nice. He relaxes and kisses back and it’s getting more and more heated with every second.

A few moments later it’s Rain who begins to peel the other’s clothes off piece by piece. Neither of them knows what happens, it’s like they black out and in the next moment they’re tumbling on the floor naked.

“Fuck me, Rain,” Dewdrop pants and the water ghoul likes the way his own name falls from his lips. His voice is pretty. “Fuck the hate out of me.”

Well, Rain can’t exactly waste a solution to fixing his own problem?

Can he?

Poor Kevin

Kevin is absolutely annoyed by ghouls and would like to send them all back to the pit

cw: hate, politically incorrect, humiliation

Not because he's afraid of them, no, on the contrary, you can't have less respect for them than Kevin. He just thinks they're annoying little beasts, like particularly vicious chihuahuas from hell. Dewdrop, Phantom and Rain especially get on his nerves. Phantom because he's always clinging to Kevin like a leech. Dewdrop because he's a little gremlin who just causes chaos that Kevin then has to clean up. And Rain isn't that bad but he isn't good at speaking human language that Kevin usually doesn't understand what the water ghoul is stammering anyway. Well, Kevin could speak ghoulish if he wanted to, but in the end these pests would annoy him even more.

Kevin hates ghouls with a passion.

The worst is when he has to fix something in the ghoul wing.

For example, the other day, when he just wanted to clean the clogged drain in the kitchen sink, he was surrounded by ghouls within a few minutes. They reminded him of a bunch of starving cats, the way they stalked around him and cast curious glances over his shoulder.

Phantom was immediately glued to him again, practically tugging at Kevin's hair and clothes. Then Aether, who kept his distance but intermittently gave advice that Kevin hadn't asked for. "You should unscrew the drain pipe first" and "Are you sure you've mixed the cleaning concentrate sufficiently? Otherwise it could damage the pipes."

Kevin wanted to hit Aether in the face. But instead he contented himself with glaring at the sink while he worked.

At one point he accidentally hit Rain's forehead with his knee because Rain was squeezing himself on the floor between him and the bucket that Kevin had used to catch all the muck from the drainpipe. With an annoyed look, Kevin noticed that the water ghoul had started collecting small pieces that had landed in the drainpipe from the bucket.

"Stop that! You're just making everything dirty," he growled as Rain pulled his hands back and placed a marble, dripping with dirt, on the ground.

Rain just babbled incomprehensible things as he began to dig in the muck again.

"Why do you forbid Rain that?", whispered Phantom and came so close to Kevin that he felt the ghoul's warm breath brushing over his ear.

Kevin sighed with the burden of a man who would rather tend a sack full of fleas than a handful of ghouls.

Why couldn't the clergy have chosen other demons? There were many species that were less unruly than ghouls. Kevin even had the feeling that chaos ghouls not only enjoyed themselves, but that they actually drew their energy from it. He had once expressed this thought to Sister Imperator, but she had just laughed at him and said that he just had to learn to assert himself. That could only come from someone who didn't have to deal with these plagues on a daily basis.

Annoyed, Kevin stuck the spiral into the drain to push out the last bit of snot, while at the same time swatting away Rain's fingers that had appeared on the edge of the sink.

Since Copia had risen to the top of the ministry and had a bit more say, Kevin was no longer even allowed to sprinkle holy water on the ghouls to keep them away. After all, that would hurt the ghouls, the youngest Emeritus brother had explained his decision. Simply ridiculous. When Kevin had started working for the clergy, ghouls had just been treated like ghouls. But since Copia had shown up here, Kevin had to treat these creatures as if they had more feelings than lust, hunger and thirst.

Finally, the resistance in the drain was released and with a slap, a pile of mud landed in the bucket.

"Is that...sand?" asked Aether, astonished. Kevin shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "How do I know what kind of crap you always pour down the drain?!" He pulled the spiral back and knelt under the sink to screw the pipe back on.

Phantom also knelt down next to him and grabbed one of Kevin's long strands of hair to chew on.

"I'm clearly not being paid well enough for this," the brown haired growled, shooing back first Phantom and then Rain, whose hand had already disappeared back into the bucket.

Under the curious gaze of the ghouls, Kevin screwed the pipe back on, sat up with his aching back and picked up the bucket.

"It would be nice if you could just stop breaking or clogging anything for more than three days," Kevin grumbled, looking sternly at Aether. The quintessence ghoul had spent the last few minutes watching with his hands on his hips and a critical expression. "I'm doing my best, but you know what they're like." Kevin only snorted in response. He watched as Aether disappeared into the living room before he too turned to leave. The ghoul was talking to Kevin as if they were eye to eye. Kevin shook his head.

Ghouls.

He was about to close the door behind him when Rain slithered through and tugged at his sleeve. His big blue eyes bored into his.

"What?" Kevin asked slightly suprised. Rain's mouth opened and closed a few times without any words coming out. Then, finally, when Kevin's already extremely thin thread of patience was about to snap, Rain managed to say a word.

"Encore."

He had always thought that Rain simply didn't speak human language, but apparently the ghoul was just stupid. In a good-natured tone, as if he was talking to someone particularly retarded, Kevin replied. "I know you did a great job on the ghovie. We're all very proud of you. But I," he pointed to himself, "have to go now," he pointed to the door.

Rain tilted his head, confused. He's probably doing this so that the few brain cells he has will slip into the same corner, Kevin thought spitefully.

The water ghoul tugged at his sleeve again, this time more frantically. "encore, encore, encore Dew."

Confused, Kevin turned around and froze.

Dewdrop stood at the sink and calmly poured a thick liquid into it. Kevin now also noticed the penetrating smell of ammonia. The damned ghoul poured wall paint into the sink. Kevin blinked. The man was too stunned to even utter a word.

He definitely needed a bottle of whiskey tonight. Better yet, two. And brandy. A lot of it.

Someone asked me a short while ago what happened to Dewdrop that caused him to miss two shows. Thanks to @miss-grim and some research, I can share what happened:

On December 5th, 2018 during the Pale Tour Named Death, Dewdrop suffered an injury at around the midway point of the show. He continued to play the rest of the show, but backstage.

You can watch the full concert here.

Copia talks about him being injured at this point.

There's a news article here claiming that it was likely a shoulder injury as he was not moving his left arm after the show. That would certainly make it pretty difficult and painful to play. :(

Edit:

Here's a link to the final performance and final bows. You can see Dewdrop coming back on stage. His left arm is obviously injured. Aether and Rain come over to check on him.

Thank you anon for sharing!

Okay, the Carhartt coat thing. Here we go @autumnblooms , some soft squishy thoughts for you ft. Water Dew and Mountain.

Ft. some flower language.

Red roses meaning love and passion

Cyclamen meaning lasting feelings and sincere affection

Cocoa With Chili

Dew steps out of the Abbey doors and squints into the light. It's winter, and there's a crystalline quality in the way that the sun filters through the frost dancing in the air. Dew grips the mug in his hand closer to his chest, trying to absorb a bit of its warmth and hunching his shoulders forward into his coat. Ice crunches under his boots as he makes his way to the heavy wooden door across the courtyard that leads to outside the ancient stone walls.

Dew ducks under the dormant ivy and through the door, ears twitching at the sound of an axe ringing through the air. The smell of balsam reaches his nose and he smiles, tail swishing as he walks quicker towards the source of the sound and smell coming the edge of the forest.

As he draws closer to the treeline he sees Mountain with his back turned to him. The Earth giant is crouched close to the ground, clearing snow away from a great Spruce tree. Its magnificent, the ends of its branches sparkle with diamond-like drops of ice, frost coating the pinecones dangling off the tips of its boughs, sparkling with frost like a coating of glitter. It will be a beautiful Yule tree once Mountain brings it into the Great Hall of the Abbey.

Dew trills, and Mountain turns at the sudden noise, smiling broadly at the sight of the approaching Water ghoul. He pushes the hood of his Carhartt coat back from his head and straightens, approaching Dew.

"Hi, Droplet, whatcha got there?"

Dew withdraws the mug from his jacket, offering it to the taller ghoul, "I brought you some cocoa, prepared with spices and a tiny bit of chili, just the way you like it."

Mountain takes the covered mug from Dew's tiny hand, taking a sip. Warmth and comfort blooms in his stomach, and he purrs at the taste of the spiced chocolate, his favorite. He looks down at Dew, who's trying not to show that he's shivering now with the absence of the mug's warmth. Mountain sets the mug down on a nearby stump. He unzips his jacket, opening it in offering to the Water ghoul.

Dew chirps and leaps forward, wrapping his arms around Mountain's waist and burrowing his face into the Earth ghoul's solid chest. Mountain puts his hands in the pockets of his Carhartt coat and wraps the fleece and canvas around his partner. A purr kicks up in Dew's chest and Mountain chuckles as he squeezes the Water ghoul close to his body, a rumbling purr vibrating through his chest and into Dew's body.

"Your cocoa is gonna get cold," Dew mumbles from within the cocoon of canvas and fleece.

"It's okay, Water Lilly, you're the more important priority right now," Mountain laughs, squirming a bit as Dew rubs his nose into Mountain's underlayer.

After a short time, Dew emerges from Mountain's embrace. His face scrunches and he twitches his nose at the dusting of snow flitting down from the trees around them.

"Come sit and have some of that cocoa while I finish here. It shouldn't be too much longer," Mountain shucks off his coat, spreading it canvas side down on the stump for Dew to sit on, and places the steaming mug in his hand.

A few last good thwacks of the ax brings the Yule tree down to the ground. As Mountain sets the ax down and wipes his hands off on his work pants, he glances over his shoulder and his heart stops at the sight behind him. Dew had taken his Carhartt jacket off the stump and burrowed into it, the material dwarfing his tiny body and covering his legs down past his knees. His dainty hands peek from the gargantuan sleeves as he sips from the mug of spiced cocoa.

Dew watches Mountain approaching him, eyes slipping upward to the flowers that had bloomed at the base of Mountain's antlers in the the time it had taken him to cross the clearing to the Water ghoul enveloped in his massive coat.

Mountain reaches up, plucking a red rose and a Cyclamen from his antlers, offering them to Dew. He bends down and presses a soft kiss to the smaller ghoul's lips, conveying all his love and affection for his ghoul wrapped up nice and snug in his coat.

"I love you, Bug."

"I know."

Feel The Dew

Silly little thing based on a screenshot from @hypnoneghoul

Rating: M

Pairing: Mountain/Dew

Words: 648

Ao3

Dew is standing in the kitchen in the den fiddling with the grucifix zipper on his hoodie while he scrolls TikTok. There is a tray of dirty dishes he just carried down from his room on the counter in front of him and he really is going to wash them and put them away. It’s just, phone, you know? There are a few clips from their last tour circulating with various ridiculous captions and a surprising amount of edits. The thirsty ones are silly and most often way off the mark, but there are also several videos of people talking (and crying) about how their music and the rituals they perform are helping people. Papa and the ghouls are helping humans accept themselves and get through hard shit to have better lives. A guy with red teary eyes and a huge smile nestled in a thick beautiful beard tells the camera that when he feels low and needs to remember the beauty in the world he watches a clip of Dewdrop’s Respite On The Spitafields solo and it never ceases to make him cry with happiness. Dew quickly double taps the screen and comments three black hearts as the left corner of his mouth tugs upward and he can feel Lucifer’s approval in the warmth that floods his bones.

He cocks his hip and glances at the dishes before going back to his scrolling. He has his VPN set to Poland today and the ads have been something else. A new one fills his screen and he giggles as he takes a screenshot. He doesn’t particularly like the drink Mountain Dew but it is one of his absolute favourite brand names and the ads have been giving him endless joy. Siblings and ghouls alike will send him a picture anytime they see a bottle somewhere, and Phantom has been making him custom memes. Dew swipes over to his text conversation with Mountain and snickers as he sends him the screenshot. The big guy is gonna love this one. Mountain may seem like a mature and serious ghoul, but he is just as much of a little shit as Dew is.

Dew is dragging his tongue over a fang, letting the sharp tip of it catch right in the middle of the slit of the fork as he scrolls through the endless Mountain Dew memes in their chat. He barely manages to avoid biting himself as a huge hand wraps around his throat and another palms his entire crotch as he is pulled flush against a warm, soft body. Electricity dances down his spine and makes his gut clench as Mountain’s hot breath tickles his ear.

“Hmm, you want me to feel you, boy?”

Mountain strokes his thumb down the length of Dew’s neck, feeling his pulse increase with each stroke. He flexes slightly so the claw digs into soft flesh, dimpling the skin just so. Dew swallows thickly against Mountain’s palm only for the hand to squeeze a tiny bit tighter. 

Mountain curls his fingers towards Dew’s taint, cupping his rapidly hardening dick and balls through his soft lounge trousers. He rolls the balls between his fingers, feeling them move under the skin.

Dew’s lifts his tail and snakes it around Mountain’s middle. Mountain’s own tail comes up to coil around it and keep it in place as he shifts a thick thigh between Dew’s legs. 

“You want me to touch you? Feel you all over? Grope you a little in the kitchen for anyone to see?”

Dew whines and tries to simultaneously push into the hands wrapped around his throat and his genitals, while grinding his ass back and down on Mountain’s thigh. He gets a throaty chuckle and a wet tongue flicking his ear lobe in return.

“Yeah, you want your big, strong boyfriend to feel you up a little. Feel the Dew. Isn’t that cute?”

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...

I'd like to request a SwissTom/DewTher double date please. Up to you if it gets spicy or not

I am very much stretching the definition of a double date here, but I had an idea that I could not put down.

Contains a very, very, very small mention of a Rite Here Rite Now spoiler. But just in case.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

This is it, Dew thinks, settling back farther into his adirondack chair, condensation from his beer dripping over his fingertips. Aether's in the chair next to him, a bonfire glowing a few feet ahead of them on the lakeshore, and the air is comfortably warm as the sun sets behind the forest surrounding the Abbey. This is the reward at the end of it all, all of the work, piety, loyalty, and literal blood, sweat and tears Dew's put into the Ghost Project.

Rain's still in the lake, bickering playfully with Aurora and Sunshine while Cirrus and Cumulus wring water out of their hair, wrapping towels around each other as the air starts to cool. Mountain's ducked into the woods to tap into the stash of firewood he keeps hidden for pack nights like this. Papa- no, Frater- No. Copia's asleep in his own adirondack chair, paperback open and resting on his chest, readers askew on his nose.

Aether sits next to Dew, taking a big swig of his beer, lime wedge shoved down into the neck of the brown glass bottle. His other arm hangs off the side, reaching just enough to twine his pinkie with Dew's. The touch is grounding, and Dew shuts his eyes, swallows his own mouthful of beer. They don't need more than this, every word has already been spoken between them, engraved into their minds the same way they have matching scars in the crooks of their necks.

A few feet away from them, the relative quiet is broken by soft chatter, Swiss practically giggling at something he said that Dew couldn't hear, matching Aeon's laughter. The two of them have practically been glued together since the end of the Re-Imperatour, and tonight is no different. Swiss leans back in his chair, and Aeon sits sideways in his lap, legs dangling over the armrest. Their horns click as they lean in to whisper to each other.

Dew runs his tongue over his fangs at how cloyingly sweet the two of them are. "I don't think we were ever that bad, right, Aeth?"

Aether snorts, finishing his beer. "I couldn't tell you, darling. We weren't looking in on us from the outside. We might have been that bad."

Dew tugs at his pinkie. "Yeah, you were so fucking desperate once you got it through your thick fucking skull that I was into you."

Even in the firelight, Dew can see the way Aether rolls his eyes. "In my defense, I'd never dealt with water or fire courting rituals before I met you."

Swiss starts, turning over to them. "You talking courting rituals, big guy?" he laughs. Gold and purple eyes practically glow in the firelight.

"Nah, we're talking about how the two of you are practically one ghoul now," Dew cuts in, setting his empty beer bottle onto the ground beside his chair to pick up later. "Haven't seen you take a breath without each other since probably Los Angeles. No, wait, it was after Sydney."

Aeon laughs, shifting closer in Swiss's lap with a soft chuff. The way they nuzzle their cheek against Swiss's doesn't help their case. "Gettin' caught up on lost time, it had been a really long time since I'd been touched nice."

Dew bites the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, I know, voidling," he says softly. Remembers the scent of terror that'd permeated the bus in the early nights of the tour. Remembers the way Aeon had shook against him the first night they'd shared a bunk.

"But Swiss, pup?" Aether teases. "You've got a whole pack of ghouls wrapped around your finger who'd be more than happy to give you affection, and you choose him?"

"Hey!" Swiss protests, throwing a middle finger at Aether as he hauls Aeon impossibly closer with his other arm. Aether just laughs, gold fang glinting in the firelight.

"I'm just saying," Aether shrugs, standing with a groan. "Any of you want another beer?"

"Please, starshine," Dew says, his pinkie still entwined with Aether's. He reluctantly lets go, lets his arm fall back to his side.

"I'll pass," Aeon says, mismatched eyes shutting with a heaving sigh. The air's starting to get a little chilly, and Dew bets the voidling's using that as their excuse to press even closer against Swiss.

"Me too," Swiss says, and Aether cocks his head at him, lips quirked up in a smile.

"Alright," he says, rummaging through the half melted ice in the cooler to pull out two beers. He sets his down to pull out the bottle opener, passing the first one to Dew. The fire ghoul takes a long drink, raising the bottle in thanks. Aether settles back into his chair with his own, tucking the bottle caps in the pocket of his shorts.

"No, but seriously, you're going to give us all cavities with how sappy you're being," Dew says, even as he reaches over the edge of his armrest to take Aether's hand. "How's the dental at the infirmary again, Aeth?"

"Well, it's where I got this," he says, tapping a claw against his gold fang. "So we're in luck. You two can keep being ridiculously sweet."

"Come on," Aeon whines, tail flicking behind them and whacking against the legs of the chair. A log shifts in the fire, sending flickering orange embers into the darkening sky. "We're not that bad."

"There's no way in hell that you two weren't as touchy," Swiss cuts in.

Dew laughs, copper eyes narrowing into slits as he gestures with his beer bottle. "Well. Seeing as you weren't summoned until a year and a half after we started courting, you have no fucking ground to stand on. For all you know, we were perfectly chaste."

"The two of you?" Swiss laughs. "Chaste?"

A tall shape passes in front of them, silhouetted by the fire. Mountain puts another few logs onto the bonfire. He turns to face the pairs, hands on his hips. "As the only one in the pack who was here when the two of you finally got your shit together, I can say with absolute certainty that the two of you were way fucking worse, Aeth, Dew. How the two of you managed to make the entire bus reek of sex in that tiny fucking bunk, Satan only knows."

Dew sputters, glancing between him and Aether. Swiss cackles. The quintessence ghoul grins, raising his beer in a toast. "Nema to that."

Mountain pulls up another chair, ruffling Aeon's hair playfully, running a knuckle along Swiss's horn. "Now, no more bickering. I'll chaperone this little double date, don't worry."

The five of them burst into laughter. It's so loud it startles Copia awake, and they can't stop laughing long enough to explain or apologize.

Sleepy extra cuddly Phantom with his first time sleeping in bed with either Dew or Swiss

CW: Swiss x Phantom cuddling, a mention of Swiss x Rain, polyghouls, and also a NS/FW mention

“Swiss.”

At first, it’s nothing more than a voice in his dream. Calling out, gentle but insistent. 

“Swiss. Wake up.” 

How kind. Whoever it is must be trying to keep him from sleeping through his alarms, again. It was becoming a more and more common occurrence. Copia looked at the end of his ropes most days. The grey hairs used to be a funny joke. Now there was simply too many to count. 

“Swiss!”

That next one is punctuated by a hearty nudge against his broad, bare shoulders. He can feel the mattress shift with it. 

“What?” Swiss asks. It comes out sounding far less like English than he hoped. 

“Can I sleep with you?” Now that the voice is saying more than just his name, it sounds more familiar to Swiss’ sleep addled brain. It still takes a moment. 

The newbie. Phantom. 

Weird. When the multi ghoul reaches his palm across the sheets to Rain’s spot on the bed it’s completely cold. He never came to bed. One of the others must have whisked him off elsewhere. Hopefully fucked into the best nights sleep he’s ever had. The thought makes Swiss purr. 

From behind him, Phantom lets out an unsure sound. “Is that… a yes?” 

“Is Copia busy?” Swiss mumbles. More out of curiosity than argument. 

The new guy shifts. The shirt he has on barely covers his shoulders, slipping down to one side. Its so threadbare. He can taste Aether’s scent on the roof of his mouth from there. “Papa… uh… I just wanted to ask you. I don’t know. If it’s weird I can-“ 

“Yeah, sure. C’mere.” Swiss says. It’s an easy decision. Phantom fits against him like a second skin in the day to day. Rehearsals are fun, hanging out afterwards is even better. Anything he throws at the new bug is met with unbridled enthusiasm. 

When Phantom finds his way into the bed, Swiss doesn’t hesitate to fit them together there too. He tugs the new summon right against him, back to chest. He can practically hear the shudder in the ghoul’s breath. There’s a spark to the air surrounding him. Quintessence, soft yet powerful. 

“Calm down. Go to bed.” Swiss whispers against the cloud of black hair that his nose is tucked into. His tail crawls up to wrap around Phantom’s leg overtop the pajama pants he wears. 

“Okay.” Phantom croaks out, voice catching. Swiss barely hears it, falling back into a deep pattern of snores.

The new ghoul loses track of time. Slowly but surely, he finds himself able to relax. The subtle sound of Mountain’s records playing through the walls mixes with Swiss’ snores, and soon Phantom has both eyes closed, taking in the mix of scents on the pillow with a purr rolling through his throat. Falling asleep slow and easy.