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wegc · 4 months

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PERV!BANG CHAN HEADCANONS

PAIRING: BANG CHAN X FEMALE READER

WARNINGS: nsfw (mdni), perversion, corruption kink, breeding kink, possessiveness, masturbation, cum tributing, watching, suggestions of blowjobs, dubcon (?), best friends brother!chan, swearing

PERV!CHAN who’s best friends with your brother and beats himself up at night, cursing at whatever entity for tempting him to think about you—his best friend's sister—who’s explicitly off limits.

PERV!CHAN who’s so endearingly shy and giggly around you, continually protecting you when your brother isn't around, hiding his lewd thoughts behind his kind exterior.

PERV!CHAN who refuses to look you in the eye the first time he jerked off to the thought of you stuffed full of his cock.

PERV!CHAN who tells your brother he’s going to the washroom and takes his sweet time walking there, not before peeking through your slightly open bedroom door—discovering you lying on your stomach innocently—and palming his growing cock at the sight of your tight cotton shorts that annoyingly accentuated the curve of your ass and the shape of your puffy cunt. Were you even wearing underwear?

PERV!CHAN who could never act upon his desires—who forbids himself from getting too close at the risk of hurting or corrupting you. You’re not for him—you’re delicate and the quintessence of purity—and it would be a sin, he would positively go to hell if his hand even grazed you the wrong way. Every touch meant something more to him.

PERV!CHAN who feels his self-control crumbling when you stroll out of the shower towel-clad, the soft white fabric daring to slip from your body, which was glistening enticingly with droplets of water from your previous activities. He’s fucked. If he tugged on the towel right then and there, he’d see everything, wouldn’t he?

PERV!CHAN whose guilt consumes him when he’s incapable of getting off without thinking of you. He’s tried porn—even porn of people that look just like you—but it doesn’t suffice. He needs you. So, begrudgingly, feeling the pit of his stomach swarm with anxiety and cringing in self-disgust, he searches your name on Instagram, knowing that you’re the only one to relieve him of his need.

PERV!CHAN who feels his mind go numb as he strokes his leaking cock to photos of you beaming, looking simply tantalizing in your tiny skirt—his favourite skirt. He wants to take his time masturbating to you, but how can he resist when his mind is corrupted with depraved thoughts of bending you in unthinkable positions, hearing your begs and whines for him to go harder; for him to claim you; for him to breed your tight little cunt until his cum oozes out of your abused hole. You’d have the greediest cunt, wouldn’t you? You’d take him so well, he knows you would. You’d be so good for him. His good little girl.

PERV!CHAN who feels his mind break and his cheeks flush every time you teasingly touch him, your soft hands squeezing and groping his tense forearms and muscles, your alluring voice purring hushed praises in his ears—phrases that sound way more suggestive than you possibly imply, right? You’re so big, Chan. God—you’re so strong. I’m so weak compared to you. You could ruin me, Channie.

PERV!CHAN who curses to himself and looks away, clenching his jaw and inhaling sharply every time you look up at him with puppy-dog eyes. He feels himself grow insane at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and the pretty little pout fixed on your lips. Would your face scrunch up like this if he stretched you out with his cock? He tries his best to ignore the very possible reality that this is what you’d look like on your knees for him. Would your hands paw his thighs? Would you open your mouth, tongue timidly peeking out for a taste of his cum? What would your face look like stained and tainted with his seed? Would you like it? Would you smile up at him? Would you beg for more? God, he’d give it to you.

PERV!CHAN who lends you his hoodie when you accompany him and your brother on a late-night beach trip, gulping as he takes in the sight of his clothes swallowing you whole, the cute buds of your breasts poking through the thick fabric.

PERV!CHAN whose cock aches at the delicious smell of your body and the sweet, floral scent of your perfume after his hoodie is returned to him the next day. He refuses to wash it, wanting to preserve the scent for as long as he possibly can. Because when he closes his eyes and presses his nose in the soft black fabric, all while jerking off his dripping cock in fast, hastened strokes, it feels like you’re right there; it’s the closest thing he has to real life.

PERV!CHAN who becomes irritable when the scent on his hoodie fades away, and against his better judgement, walks into your family washroom only to immediately open the bottom cabinet in pursuit of your laundry basket, where he steals a pair of your dirty panties. Of course, he jerked one out in the washroom, knowing all too well you were a room away. It makes it better—helps him cum faster. What if you walked in? What if you saw the way he smelled your musk before pushing the fabric in his mouth, letting out muffled groans at the sheer taste of you? God, he’s disgusting. Did you cum in these while touching yourself? Maybe you dry-humped against your pillow. Who were you thinking of? Fuck—he hopes it’s him.

PERV!CHAN who prints a photograph of you one day—a full body shot of you smiling toward the camera, your white sundress short enough to reveal the plush flesh of your thighs—his favourite photo. He’s especially desperate now after tasting you. He’s careful with the panties and only uses them for special occasions—what if he wants a taste again? He’d wrap the panties around his sore, chubby cock, stroking himself furiously to the picture, seizing the opportunity to slap his dick against the photo of you. It’s a laminate photo and laminate for one sole purpose. All too quickly, he cums in thick, white spurts, landing on the photo of your face and thighs—all over you. Snapping a quick photo, he jerks himself off again, and again, and again, until it’s thoroughly covered in his warm seed. He would do it a million times in real life if you’d just asked. Once he’s done, he wipes the photo clean with tissue paper and carefully places it at the bottom of his drawer for later use.

PERV!CHAN who heads to your washroom to jerk off to another pair of your panties at four o'clock in the morning during a sleepover with your brother, where thoughts of you sleeping soundly a room away plague and tempt him beyond belief. Instead of stealing this pair, he puts it back in your laundry basket, soiled and contaminated with his cum. You’ll just wash it, and he’ll have to live forever with the remorse of you wearing underwear that unbeknownst to you, Chan violated. It isn’t until weeks later when your brother hosts a pool party, that Chan chokes on his drink at the sight of you wearing the same panties he came in. It was part of a swimsuit—you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Feeling his bulge grow in his swim trunks, he gulps down his drink and races to the washroom to relieve himself. He can’t last like this. You have no fucking idea. No fucking idea that your brother's best friend—the second guy you wholeheartedly trusted after your brother, the first guy who swore to protect you if your brother weren’t around—came all over the fabric pressed right against your sweet, untouched cunt.

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ꩜⋆ hi, my name is iris hehe, can you tell i’m obsessed with channie’s guilt complex. he’s the sanest perv! anyways, if you liked this, check out my other work, i have more coming! i write for stray kids only and am a mostly nsfw blog. if you plan on following me, please note that my blog is 18+. i hope you guys like this ! feel free to give feedback and reveal your thoughts in my inbox <3

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miasmaghoul · 3 months

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Here, have some soft dewther emotional hurt/comfort for reasons that do not at all reflect anything about my current mental state no siree👍

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It's past midnight when Aether flops onto the common room sofa, exhausted from back to back shifts in the infirmary. It's a night he wishes that his own quintessence would work on himself, that he could wick away the ache in his back and the searing heat behind his eyes. He'd dragged himself here in search of food - Aether can't remember the last thing he ate, or when - but the sight of the couch had forced him to redirect.

So here he sits, alone in the dark common room, staring out the massive windows flanking the fireplace and watching the stars twinkle. He knows he should get up, should find something to put in his stomach so he can at least try to sleep, but his legs weigh a thousand pounds each and the thought of moving is enough to have Aether groaning into the silence surrounding him.

He wishes he were like Rain, like Swiss. That he could just close his eyes and be on his way to dreamland. That he didn't have to deal with the storm in his head, the revolving door of tasks to be done on his next shift. Reviewing the cases he'd handled today; there had been a flu outbreak in the human wing, and Aether stretches his hands while he thinks of every fever he'd soothed, every cough he'd calmed, every bit of suffering he'd pulled from those fragile bodies and let sink into himself.

Ghouls may not be susceptible to human illness, but the power it takes to heal them always leaves him feeling ill. Empty. Hollow.

Aether cracks his knuckles as the memory of one particular Sibling crosses his mind - a young girl, no more than twenty. Pale and shivering, hacking up a lung into the sleeve of her habit while she curled up in the corner of the waiting area. She was the only one who has arrived at the infirmary alone, a newly anointed Sister of Sin who hadn't found her footing yet. Hadn't found her family yet.

Her pain had been some of the worst for Aether to handle. Not because she was sick, there were other Siblings in far worse condition, but because she was alone. Aether could feel it in his bones the moment he touched her hand. An icy wave of anxiety and regret that had washed over every part of him, an ache even Aether couldn't soothe.

It would pass, he'd assured her. Everyone goes through this - the fear, the loneliness, the feeling that you've made a huge mistake by abandoning everything you knew and loved in the name of something new. Something better. Because there are expectations, assumptions, promises made that paint the church in an ideal, rose-colored light that draws in those eager for a place to belong.

It would pass, he'd assured her. It always does. She would find her routine, find Brothers and Sisters eager to take her under their wing. Find comfort in their Papa's sermons, in prayer and worship, as they all do. Eventually, everything would fall into place. She just needed to give it time. To let it happen.

She'd looked much better once her treatment was complete, had thanked him with a hug he could still feel untold hours later, and Aether was glad to see it. Truly.

But that cold pit of loneliness had stuck around long after she'd left the infirmary, a whirlpool of despair still swirling around in his chest. It's happened a few times before, when he's drained like this, but it's unpleasant all the same. Sore, almost. Like a thorn in his heart, digging deeper with every beat.

He should just go to bed. Make his legs work and drag himself down the impossible distance of the hall. Should collapse into his own bed and try to ignore the chill, the ache, the pounding in his head. He'd get to sleep eventually, right? It would be better than this - at least he'd be laying down. He should at least try.

The kitchen light flips on behind him, and Aether's too tired to jolt.

"Aeth?" A sleep-thick voice creeps into his ears, familiar, and Aether's shoulders sag. "What're you doin' in here?"

The soft patter of bare feet follows, and Aether sighs when their owner comes into view.

"Hey, Dew."

"Hey yourself," the little ghoul mumbles, rubbing at tired eyes. He's dressed in one of Aether's beat-up old shirts and a pair of sunflower printed pajama pants that undoubtedly belong to Sunshine. "I could smell you from my room," he says through a yawn, and Aether cringes. "D'you just get back?"

"Yeah," Aether rasps, working immediately to get his scent under control. It's something he always struggles with on nights like this. "Long day."

He crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his neck, and Dew frowns.

"Looks like more than that." Aether hugs himself a little tighter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's nothing," Aether huffs, the guilt of having woken Dewdrop enough to have that thorn sinking in further. "Go back to bed, love, I'm fine."

"Pfft," Dew waves a hand, dismissive, "how many times do I have to tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Aether groans, tosses his glasses to the side to dig the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. He hears Dew's tail thump against the area rug, obvious concern that he must be too tired to hide.

"I just...it was a long day," Aether sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching over. "I'll be fine, I'm just...just tired, that's all."

Warm, bony hands come to rest on his shoulders, and it takes everything Aether has not to whimper at how good that simple touch feels.

"Aether," Dew says, low, "look at me."

He doesn't want to. Knows he too exhausted to hide the way the void in his chest will have darkened his eyes, brought out every line on his face. He knows that if he does, Dew will see the hurt. Hurt that isn't his problem, isn't something he needs to worry about. It's not his job.

"C'mon, Aeth," the little ghoul encourages, one hand leaving a shoulder to glide through Aether's thick, unruly hair. Aether does whimper then, can't help it, but silently prays Dew doesn't hear it. "Please?"

There's something so sincere in that one word that Aether can't deny him. He heaves a mighty sigh, leans back into the couch and begrudgingly lets Dew see.

Those copper eyes bore into him like white hot fire, and it only takes two breaths for Dew to understand.

"Oh, Aether," he breathes, cupping his worn face in those incredible hands. Aether sinks into the touch, something he can't quite name caught in the back of his throat. "What can I do?"

Nothing. Everything. Aether has no idea, too scattered and distracted by the icy claws scratching at his rib cage to do more than shake his head and flex his fingers. Dew won't break his gaze, looking down at him with concern knitting his brow and his mouth turned down at the corners. He brings his own hands up to hold Dew's wrists, overcome by the need for...for...

"Could you just -" a hiccup, one he can't help, "just...remind me I'm not alone?"

The words are miserable to say, a request he feels stupid for making and regrets instantly. Wishes he could take them back the second they pass his lips, a flush of embarrassment rushing up his throat when Dew tips his head. When a lock of golden hair that had slipped from his bun floats across his forehead, those gorgeous eyes gone soft around the edges.

But he doesn't have time to take them back, because Dew's already moving. Gently shaking off Aether's trembling grip and moving to straddle him on the couch. Skinny thighs bracketing his own while Dew settles in, leaning forward to get his arms under Aether's wrinkled white coat, looping them around his waist. Scooching closer until they're chest to chest, no more than their clothes to separate them, and then Dew's resting his head on Aether's shoulder.

"Don't worry, starlight," he lilts, soft as Aether's ever heard him. Dew kisses his neck, no more than a chaste peck. "'S long as I'm around, you never have to be alone."

The little ghoul starts to purr, his unnatural heat seeping into Aether's whole being, and Aether shudders. Wraps him up in strong arms and holds on tight, breathing in cedar and burnt cinnamon. Something so distinctly Dew that it overrides the mess in his head, in his heart, and as it does Aether can do nothing but believe him.

"Thank you, firefly," he huffs, voice thready. Something Dew would normally tease him for, but not tonight. He nuzzles closer, and Aether lets his cheek rest against the little ghoul's head. "Thank you."

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether/dew #aether x dew #aethdew #dewther #hurt/comfort #dont mind me self soothing via ghouls lmao lmao #not rereading before i post so if you see mistakes #no you dont

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netherfeildren · 5 months

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The Cassandra Complex : Interlude : Tartarus

Series Masterlist

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence; Torture; Murder; Blood and gore; Self harm; Suicidal ideations; Depression; Unreliable narrator; Alcohol and drug use; Overall very dark themes

A/N: The chapter is what the tags warn. Please, heed them carefully. Short because it's only an interlude, but the next chapter is almost done!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 3.5K

Read on AO3

INTERLUDE : TARTARUS

Can you eat winter? […] Can you live six months inside a frozen pear? […] Can you punctuate yourself in silence?

Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

You are captured at the start of the cold season.

The first man you ever killed had been old. Weathered and beaten down by the galaxy and life, and forgotten or absconded to a decrepit and abandoned planet. Once thriving and rich, it had been bled dry and starved by the Empire, and now remained to stand only as a reminder to others as what not to be, a warning of how you’d end up if you did not submit.

Your master had hunted him for months, a mania about the search that was mouth slicked ravenous and vicious. Something sick about the way he’d obsessed about the man, murmuring his name over and over again at all hours until you were sure you knew the vowels and consonants of it better than your own. You’d never discovered the root of the obsession, the reason for the killing, and when you’d finally found him, he was not at all what you’d expected; brittle boned, white of hair, skin soft and folded over so that it sagged and drooped around his frame, seeming to hang around him out of mere sheer habit.

You’d swept into his mind, pilfered and pillaged and violated it; his past, his whole life, his family, cradled in the blink of your eye. You’d pulled his joints from their sockets, his fingernails from their beds, and his eyes from their cavities. You’d taken him apart piece by little piece, a slow going saturation of pain until little remained of the creature. Until the final piece you’d pulled from him was his breath, his very life, swallowed and settled heavy into your own soul.

You had been very young when you’d killed him, a girl of only seven years old.

You’d once heard that stars are made of a different matter than the four worldly elements – a quintessence – that also happens to be what the human psyche is made of. Which is why man’s spirit corresponds to the stars. You’d swallowed so many souls thinking they might be stars during that time. Perhaps, in an attempt to take some light within you, infuse yourself in the goodness of another’s quintessence. Young and naive and untried. You’d learned eventually how wrong you were. The damage you’d unknowingly wrought upon yourself. And when you remember it all now, the unending reaping, you think: I was young once, and you wish you could cling to that child, beg her to forgive you, beg her to run earlier.

Perhaps, that had been the beginning of the end, and everything after that had been nothing more than one eternally futile battle towards inevitable failure.

For some idiotic reason, you return to Corellia after you part ways with him. Idiotic or desperate, who can really tell, but without a doubt, bitter and angry and devastated. Filled with a keen missing and a fury and an outrage that he’d left you, that you’d allowed yourself to be left. That you’d pushed him away. That really, the destruction of everything was your fault. The day it had suddenly hit you that you’d destroyed everything for nothing, that you’d destroyed the two of you for no real reason at all except for petty and inconsequential fear, had been a monumental sort of devastation. You’d not been able to make it out of your dingy rented bed for days afterwards. And so you’d chosen to believe that this was the end of destiny, rather than the beginning of what had always been fated to you. For choosing to believe that you’d destroyed it yourself was better than the truth, that he had never really been meant to be yours in the first place. And if it were anything else, you’d finish it, destroy it to completion. It if was something less, you’d smash it like a rock, tear it as if it were a piece of parchment, but it is not, for it is your heart, your very heart, your memory.

The only thing left.

While you’d been with him you’d thought that you were healing, that you were healed. That you’d been made whole in his image. That after everything, after so much darkness, one single silver flame to illuminate the night would shine a light on your newfound completeness. But you’d realized, later, when it was too late, how wrong you’d been to think so. Love does not mend the torn seams back into rightness – it fractures the whole thing wide open, splits you down the middle.

And you’re so full of the most poisoned sort of regrets, a living, breathing, fire filled thing that seemed to exhume you from your own misery and would not let you exist peacefully in the deathlessness you’d have chosen for yourself. But it was impossible to go backwards now. Like any unloved thing, you’d not been sure if you really existed until he’d put his hands on you, and now, to have been forced to return to that half life, to be forced to exist in the purgatory of his aftermath – it was fury inducing, rage awakening.

All my hurts hurt worse now, and there is no escape and no reprieve, and it always feels as if the sky seems to peer down on me in a strange and pitiful way. How did that feel? It asks. I’m sorry I caused harm, I reply.

Time no longer exists, and so all you know is that it’s been an unknowable amount of nothing since you’d last seen him.

You ache all the time, try and forget, can’t help but remember

You’d always known exactly how it would play out. Step by step the course your life would take – the Force guided you, and yet, you were still lost. You were still confused. You’d known that he would leave, you’d always known. Just as you’d known you would be the reason he left. You’d waited for it, and yet, when the moment arrived for him to go, you were shocked. And hurt. You were hurt that he would leave you even though you had pushed him away, even though you had always expected it to happen, even though you were the perpetrator of your own abandoning and had always known that you would be.

And so, perhaps, you’d continued to return to Corellia despite knowing it was dangerous for you there, that there were whispers of a dark creature scurrying along the planet’s underbelly, that they’d seen your face all that time ago and rumors still abounded. But it had been the last place you’d found each other, and so some idealistic, stupidly desperate part of you thought that, perhaps, fate would look upon you kindly once again. That dark red thread of fate woven into action one more time, ringing taut with purpose and destiny.

Perhaps, you return looking for a fight or a beating or some form of punishment, certain that you’d find it in that cesspool of vice and crime and corruption. In that place that knows what sort of creature you pretend not to be.

Eventually, however, you get more than you’d bargained for. Or maybe, precisely what you’d wanted.

You’re betrayed by a slippery little Twi’lek. One who’d pretended at being interested in some easy, fun drinking and debauchery. One who you were not aware had awaited the return of a prize such as you for a long, long time. One who’d held the image of your face and your power in the cradle of her mind, ravenous for the moment when she’d finally be afforded a taste and a pay out.

If you could not lose yourself in anything else, him, or even something worse – the dark called to you again so often now, it frightened you – then you’d lose yourself in a bottle, a game of Sabacc, even, on occasion, or when things were particularly dire, a little bit of Spice, just to take the edge off. To make you forget. The smell of the past is everywhere, the smell of too many illusions, too many truths, and you try and resist all the time, you feel yourself actively resisting. But you lie in the awareness of it so often, in the miserable hold of rented beds where no comfort and no warmth is ever to be found on so many nights, that at any moment something terrible could happen. It’s not gone, that coldness inside of you. It’s not gone, the dark side, and it calls to you louder now that he is absent.

You consider yourself in new and strange lights now. A miasma of girl and power and tragedy and myth, always, always the myth of you. You are aware of yourself, of that myth, in so many lights.

Violence has changed me; my body has grown cold. Now there is only mind, cautious and dim, with the sense it is being twisted. I have never loved being alive, and it is difficult to remember that I should.

Din has changed me; my heart is half stone, half devoured. The sun has gone away, tucked inside of him, and I am always cold now, and even though I can't see it anymore, him, it’s comforting to know he’s still out there, somewhere. That the sun still exists.

And so, in need of credits, the Twi’lek finds it easier to sell you off to the highest bidder when she first captures you – that being a league of fanatics who had, at the height of the Empire, venerated the Sith as lords – Gods even – who bent the knee to the dark side in hopes of a power greater than they even really knew the truth of.

Drugged and cuffed after you’d been too stupid or uncaring to even try and defend yourself, you let them take you. You let them take you. You remember that first night in the hole in the ground you’d sentenced yourself to, before she’d left you to your fate with your captors, arm broken, bone jutting grotesquely from your skin, she’d looked down at you from her great height as you lay limp and ready for more breaking on the dirty ground of the cell deep in that Tartarean pit, brow split open and drooling crimson, glassy eyes wide and unseeing, filled only with the memories of gleaming metal, she’d called you a monster with the greatest of contempt and hatred in her eyes. And you’d laughed and laughed and laughed at the reality of you now, sanity gone away, only a little bit, only a little bit; after all, there had always been more madness than goodness anyways.

And you’d wanted to cry: I am not a monster! I am not a monster! But you knew she would not believe you.

This is only what you deserve, creature. Spit from her mouth like venom. You think of the Thalassian crone, all that time ago, or only yesterday: How does it feel to be nothing? She was kinder to you than you know this will be, and for a brief moment you pretend to miss her, fantasize with the idea of him coming to save you once again.

You’d wanted to lie and say that you were not a monster any longer, that you’d changed, that you were better, different, but that would have been a lie, for at your core you knew there would always live within you something of a slightly monstrous countenance, no matter what you did or made of yourself. And what you wanted to say, even more than that, was that perhaps a monster was not such a terrible thing to be. Perhaps, if you’d ever been given the chance, you could have served as a shelter and a warning, all at once, for a family you’d never been allowed to have. Perhaps, if you’d ever been given the opportunity to have been that, nothing much else would have really mattered.

You want to tell her his name. To let it serve as proof of the only goodness that has ever lived inside of you. But you do not. And you let them keep you for far too long, lying in that dark, damp hell, letting them hurt you.

She returns often, the pretty, purple Twi’lek with the sharp teeth. She takes Din’s earrings from you, that first day, and if you’d still had tongue and teeth and voice to thank her for the chance to look upon them, you would have.

They pull your skin from your bones and your bones from your skin, over and over again, and you try and lie that you don’t know what you did to deserve this, but you do. You do know. You remember the old man, the very first one, you think of all the countless others after him, the flash of shrieking beskar. You remember every single crime and sin and face and scream. Every scream, but loudest of all, your own.

You exist only in thousands of agonies.

And they’re creative in their torture and punishment, caring in the imagination of it. They burn the flesh from your bones only so that the Force can heal you back to strength. Slowly, excruciatingly, keeping you drugged and chained, diminishing your connection to yourself. Beaten and flogged and savaged over and over again. You think, or you tell yourself, that you feel little of it, or none at all.

More than anything, you feel so acutely how little it all matters.

Why have you done this to yourself? You’re sure you should ask. I don’t know. What is this all about? Be honest. Anger. Are you angry? Yes. You already knew this.

Perhaps, your mind has finally broken and fragmented in a real and irrevocable way. Perhaps, this is finally destiny finding itself.

You lie in the dark and let it hold you as it did when you were a child, alone and enslaved. You watch the water snake through the cracks of the stone walls, and you are so small, and suddenly, there’s a hole in your cheek and you heal and heal and tear apart again; taste the outside air with your newly grown tongue, and the blood that pools in your mouth reminds you that you’re still alive and made of nothing but regret.

You hold one single comfort like a newly blooming flower in your mind, the only thing that remains: We were together once. I forget the rest, before, now, it no longer matters. We were together once.

For an interminable age, you allow yourself to be poked and prodded, cut and flayed, experimented on – the silly notion these cultists hold that perhaps they could harness your power for themselves, bottle it. Hurt, you allow yourself to be hurt for too long. They never break you beyond repair, but they get very close, many times, and sometimes, you hope it’ll be too much, it needs to be too much just once, and then it could, perhaps, all end.

Your bones ache and wounds open where the too sharp edges of you abrade against the too hard stone, and you relish in the healing and reopening, relish in the suffering. You remind yourself that you chose this, that you continue to actively choose this, that all your choices are yours now, even the losses, and you caress that secret piece of you in the furthest, darkest recess of your mind, your lifeline, and it feels so good to finally be in control of the things that hurt you. Even if it is a false sense of control, even if it’s all only a reality of your mind's own making.

And sometimes, when the delirium has sunk its fangs in you entirely, and you almost don’t know who you are, you think: surely he’ll come to get me. He doesn’t know you’re here. Surely I didn’t fall in love with him just for this. He doesn’t know you’re here. If he knew, he’d come, he would, he would.

Two years is a very long time to be away from a thing you need so much.

I no longer care what sound it makes when I am silenced.

Two years is a very long time to forget.

If I die, it is not this life I will miss, it is him I will miss.

But an even longer time to remember.

How to forget? How to forget? How to forget?

Eventually, you lose yourself, and the brightness of torture becomes the brightness of night, and you’re gone within it.

You consider yourself: the myth, the archetype, the soul, me, me, the Cassandra, the Cassandra.

[Scream] [Scream] [Scream] [Scream]

Din.

You cling to him through the night, through the brightness, through the nothing. You dream of his hands and his hair and the vividness of him. You dream of that pure, golden heart. You dream of beskar and space and being loved.

You dream of being loved.

You do not choose the way you live. You do not live; you are not allowed to die.

You don’t know how long you allow yourself to be held within this womb of punishment, but you know that it is a very long time.

And then one day, unbidden and unexpected: one moment, you’re hungry, a strange and cold and gnawing hunger like something you’ve never felt before. A hunger of the soul. Your mind, so hazy that sometimes you don’t know if you remember your own name, that at certain instances the only image you can recall is the gleam of beskar – you smell vetiver and sweat and blaster smoke and the leather oil of his gloves. You hear his voice. The feeling of his hand in yours the second before you wake, and for a single moment before your eyes open, you’re somewhere else besides this damp Tartarus you’ve condemned yourself to, somewhere green and alive with him.

The third time you meet: You blink, and it’s all darkness and steel bars, and then, a dim light far in the distance? No. A blade of silver beskar.

He’s here. Near.

She had said to you once, your now made sweet Twi’lek: You’re going to die here. Surely, not soon. But one day, we’ll pull your life from you. Once we’ve pulled everything else, taken all we can, we’ll take your life too. And then you’ll be nothing, erased from memory, erased from myth. Nothing at all forever.

You’d taken her words with consideration. You felt strongly that you could not die any longer in any way that truly mattered. If nothing more, than for the memory of him, the memory of that togetherness could never be taken from you, it would always exist and could never be killed, and so what more mattered after that? Nothing really. They could take your life, your power, but they could not take Din, they could not take the myth of what the two of you had created together.

And always the myth, always the myth. You understand now, after an age in something worse than darkness, that you are yourself the creation of myth, and myth is indestructible.

She is made sweet and venerating in the end, and she dies so beautifully, your Twi’lek, and in the singular instant before you pull her heart from her chest, you recall her words from before, how like the Thalassian she’d seemed, nothing at all forever, and you tell her the second truth you’ve now come to understand more surely than anything else: “Only a Sith deals in absolutes, and I am no longer a Sith.”

You free yourself from the cruel and unforgiving hands of the dark for the second time in your life.

You’d thought once that you’d never again let yourself be captured, never again enslaved, and to have let yourself end up here like this of your own volition, your own wanton stupidity and miserable desire for punishment, this is the lowest a creature has fallen in a millenia, surely, and he’s on the same planet as you now, and you’re filled with the sudden blinding terror that he’d somehow know you’re here. That he’d find you. And that he should see you like this, brought so low and so broken, it would be worse than anything, any pain or suffering or torture you could have ever endured.

And so you call to that dormant tether you’d held this entire time, to the Force, to yourself, and you kill your captors. All of them. In one fell swoop. Without much of even a single thought on your part. And you thank her, when you pull his stolen, blood splattered earrings from her ears, for teaching you so much, for reminding you that power without conscience is a terrible thing, and that you know this better than anyone. And you walk out into the cold and dark night, silent and obscure as a shadow can be, even more so, if possible, prepared to make your unnoticed escape from him.

But of course, he finds you anyway.

Chapter IX

Netherfieldren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

#vic fic #TCC fic #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin smut #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian AU #star wars fanfiction #Star Wars au

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sovaghoul · 9 days

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Something that sprang from conversation with @the-moon-in-the-gutter, as per usual. CW death mention, implied consensual violence.

It took months for Omega to come out of mourning. Not that anyone blamed him. Losing his mate was devastating, and even more crushing was still living in the very institution that had brought about his end. Alpha became his solace then, one of the few who felt the loss at anywhere near the same level. They had been his left-hand Ghouls, and now all that remained was each other.

The first time they fell into bed together, Omega had begged through his sobs for punishment, because he couldn't save his mate. He'd needed to be broken, because he'd been too slow and weak to stop it, too stupid to see the signs before it was too late. Alpha tearfully obliged, conducting the session without any joy or fulfillment. Omega had thanked him as he continued to sob in Alpha's arms.

Somewhere deep inside, though, Alpha felt gratitude. He pushed it down, down, down, hoping to stamp it out under his boots. But the fact remained that Omega was finally his and his alone. And so bittersweet was the victory, that he despised it. He knew this was the only version of events that could have brought Omega to him. He'd pined for his companion for years, but the mating bond couldn't be broken except in death, and Alpha knew that. He kept his distance respectable. He never so much as considered tempting Omega to stray. Omega would have never known, if he hadn't come to Alpha for that comfort.

Regardless, he'd always looked at the Quintessence Ghoul as if he'd hung the stars that birthed him. And as Omega found peace in sleep this particular night, many months having passed again, Alpha kept a vigil over him, to keep the trauma-fueled nightmares at bay, a role reversal if there ever was one. He watched his partner with the purest, most abject adoration, filled to bursting with love, offering a silent prayer of thanks to the Dark Lord for His boon after all this time. Alpha believes -- knows -- that this other Ghoul loves him. And he also knows that he's not always the one Omega's hands search for in the middle of the night.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #omega ghoul #alpha ghoul #ficlet #fanfic

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midnight-moth · 6 months

Note

May I ask for Rain and Dew absolutely smothering Phantom because his anxiety is acting up really bad and the dp helps calm him down

I haven't just written something inside of tumblr without even opening a doc in a long time. Let's give it a go! 1100 ish words of Phantom having a meltdown, Rain and Dew being sweet. And maybe Dew having secret perv thoughts. Also everyone always puts cute or pretty gifs in their writing. Well I feel this one works.

"Where's Phantom?"

"I don't know, actually. Where is he?" Dew craned his neck from his seat on the edge of a folding chair, his eyes drifted away from the knot he was trying to pick out of his laces to Rain's face, creased with worry.

"I'm sure he's around? I mean, he can't have gone far." Words meant to self-soothe but they weren't doing a particularly good job. Rain's legs were already absentmindedly directing him toward the labyrinth of hallways.

"You wanna go look? I wanna go look."

Rain gave Dew a small smile, a silent thank you for taking his worries and making them his own. For not making Rain ask him to go searching for Phantom, for not making him feel like he was concerned about nothing.

For not making Rain explain again that he was worried about the new summon; that despite appearances and reassurances, Rain saw the raw skin beside his thumbnails, the bruised circles carved beneath his eyes, the food he pushed around his plate but never into his mouth.

All of them were nervous, Papa was nervous. It was their first ritual together, at least with this iteration of the band. One without the steadying presence of Aether, the calming comportment of Sunny.

Dew abandoned the knot in his laces and followed Rain out of the greenroom, leaving the various satellite groups of crew and ghoul alike to continue eating, talking, vibrating with excitement about kicking off the tour.

They weaved in and out of the hallway snaking to the rear of the building, still short one quintessence Ghoul and running out of hiding places.The clack of heeled boots finally revealed his location.

“Hey, what’re you doing back here?” Here being a darkened stairwell that led to the catwalks up above the stage.

Whether Phantom heard Dew’s voice or their approach, they weren’t sure. He didn’t react. He just kept up his pacing, 3 steps forward, 5 steps across, 3 steps back, 5 steps over, around and around and around.

Dew, watching him move in the small space felt his own head spinning with vertigo eventually and tore his eyes away to look at Rain, who stood frozen, his arm halfway extended, as if he were about to stop Phantom in his tracks.

“Hey bug, you’re gonna wear holes in your soles. Why don’t you slow down a little?” Phantom’s eyes flit up to Dew’s and then fell back on the toes of his shiny new boots. He did however finally stop moving.

Neither Dew nor Rain were really sure what to do. Neither had really made progress in getting to know the ghoul. What they saw during practice, a charismatic ghoul who was little bit goofy, but also full of joy, had yet to reveal itself in alternate scenary.

“Are you nervous? That’s okay. It’s normal. We all were, and we still are.” Rain took small steps toward him as he spoke, he half expected Phantom to arch his back and howl like a scared cat.

Phantom wanted to answer them, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that if he opened his mouth, all of his insides would come spewing out. Not the contents of his stomach, his lungs, his heart, his spine. He felt like his silence was the only thing keeping his body glued together. Even then he felt the bonds weakening when he looked up at the concerned ghouls in front of him.

“You don’t have to speak. Just - if there’s anything we can do, can you nod?”

Phantom considered whether he could do as Dew asked, whether communicating with him would cause everything to spiral out of control. Whether it would disturb the peace he’d made with that square meter of concrete in the back of the venue.

He nodded slowly, eyebrows quirking up in surprise that in fact, the ground beneath his feet had not shifted or crumbled.

“Good. Okay, do you want water?” No.

“Food?” No.

“Do you want anyone other than us?” No

“Do you want to go outside?” No.

Guilt began to tear at the threads of reality Phantom had clung to since finding the quiet space. Rain and Dew watched him wring his hands in consternation, subconsciously mimicking him, Dew twisted his fingers together, feeling like they were failing him.

“Do you want a hug?” Rain’s voice made them both jump a little.

Phantom nodded his head in affirmation and Rain felt the coil twisting in his chest loosen a little.

Neither had really touched the ghoul, and once again they approached him as they would a feral cat, all but sticking their hands under his nose for him to sniff. Not that they were afraid he would bite or claw, they were afraid he would run.

Rain reached out first, wrapping his arms around Phantom’s tense shoulders, loose, and hopefully non-threatening. Still he felt the ghoul tense under his touch.

Dew reached for his arm, a barely there pat to his bicep, and the ghoul visibly cringed.

“We’re sorry, you can change your mind. I don’t know - we can get Swiss, or Cirrus, or Papa.”

“No”, His voice came out as a croak, his throat dry and tight from his panic induced fugue.

“What can we do?”

“Just - you can touch me, but harder. I dunno why. When I feel - like this, those light touches make my skin crawl. I’m sorry - s’not your fault. I don’t - I don’t -”

“Ah.” Rain nodded. Dew was the same, whether he was upset, sad, anxious, he hated gentle, soft. He wanted heavy and solid.

“It’s okay, I’ll be okay.” Phantom mumbled, feet angling to resume the pattern he’d been wearing into the floor.

Instead, Rain grasped him firmly by the wrists and led him to the wall, pulling the ghoul into his lap and into a most crushing hug, reinforced by Dew, wrapping his arms around the other half of his body.

They both felt him sag and droop a little.

“Better?”

Phantom gave them a barely-there nod, as best he could manage with the limited range of movement. Even as compressed as he was, he felt like his lungs were finally able to take in a satisfying amount of air.

“Don’t worry, we have lots of time. Hours in fact.”

Phantom nodded against Rain’s shoulder, beginning to doze off. The two tails snaking around his torso and the rumbling purrs of their owners nudged him over the edge.

“Is he asleep?” Dew whispered.

“Yeah. He’s drooling on me. Reminds me of someone.”

“Shut up. - Hey, if he likes this maybe he’ll like that other thing you do.”

“One step at a time.”

As Phantom’s mind swam between the conscious and unconscious world, he wondered what the other thing was.

#sorry if there are typos I am so sleepy #squish that ghoul #also this is me if someone tries to touch me lightly while I am v anxious or having a panic attack I will throw up #I dont know what it is I hate it sooooo much #again sorry this took so long I will slowly make my way through the asks #phantom ghoul #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #midnight moth asks #midnight moth writes #the band ghost fanfiction #i can't help but see that you said DP instead of DPT and well you know what i'm thinking about #that wouldve been very different story #cw anxiety #cw panic attack

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iamthecomet · 2 months

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COMET! For the kiss meme, what about 20 or 21 with Phantom and Dew? pls and ty

How about both??

Dew doesn’t think much about his scars anymore. Most days he doesn’t see them. Doesn’t look at the silvery lines on his neck–hidden, usually, by hair. Or the deeper ones, longer ones, on his ribs. Graceful arching scars that show where his gills were–what he used to be.

Most days, they’re a part of him, not a wound or a reminder.

But Dew hasn’t had to show himself to new eyes in a long time. And despite his usual confidence, he finds unease in the idea of Aeon seeing him, all of him, for the first time.

There hadn’t been much time for lingering earlier. Just the hurried rush of clothes pulled off in the dim light of the hotel room. Aeon’s body pressed against his. Hands tugging at him, desperate. They’d fallen into each other with little fan fare. Aeon hadn’t lingered. If he really looked, Dew hadn’t noticed. But he’s looking now.

The lamps turned low, basking the room in a glow that reminds him of his fireplace back home, warm and golden, and just bright enough for Aeon to see him. And Aeon looks.

Dew lays back, arms under his head, tries to feign the same easy confidence he always wears. Naked, sheet thrown over his hips, torso, and scars, on full display for Aeon’s roaming eyes. Dew feels the prickle of nervousness under that intense gaze.

He doesn’t think much of his scars, but when he does, he feels like curling in on himself. A reminder of who he used to be. Permanent ugliness etched over his skin where there used to be beauty. And he’s happier now–better. But it doesn’t stop that voice in the back of his head–or the memory of what used to be there–what burned away when he was remade.

“You good, bug?” Dew asks. Aeon’s eyes dart up to look at him, then back down to the scars, fascinated. Dew feels heat flood to his face. Aeon reaches out and presses a finger over one of the lines over his ribs. Dew jolts, and Aeon’s hand curls back in, hesitant. A frown digging at his still kiss swollen lips.

“Do they hurt?” he whispers.

Dew shakes his head. “No, just…sensitive, or…used to be. My body still thinks they are. I know there–gruesome.”

“They’re not,” Aeon insists. He tries again and Dew stays still, lets him pet down the length of one long line. “I like them.”

“Should have seen what they looked like before,” Dew tries to fake bravado but fails, it comes out a little shaky–unsure. Aeon looks up at him. Eyes searching his like he can see into Dew’s soul. Fucking quintessence ghouls.

“Don’t care what they looked like before,” Aeon mumbles.

Dew opens his mouth to protest again, or maybe to change the subject so he can stop thinking about these lines that marr and otherwise basically perfect vessel. But then he feels cool lips on his ribs. Following the same line Aeon’s fingers just did. One kiss after another, curving along his ribs. Chasing each line where his gills used to be.

“Pretty,” Aeon mumbles against his skin.

Dew’s eyes flutter closed as Aeon starts again, dragging lips and tongue over those sensitive scars. He thinks, if Aeon keeps this up–he might actually learn to believe him.

#comet writes #kiss game #fic game #Dew/Aeon #dewdrop ghoul #aeon ghoul

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mirage-aera · 7 months

Text

•°. *࿐ Shiny rocks

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Him & I - G-Eazy, Halsey

So I’ve recently found out that some male penguins like to find the smoothest rock they can find, because in their mind that’s the best rock there is, and give it to their female penguin so that they can build their nest and lay their eggs on it. I found that really cute and wanted to write something short about it so here you go. A longer fic is in progress!!

Rain x fem!ghoulette!reader

Synopsis: Rain spends days to find the perfect rock to impress one of the ghoulettes. But what he doesn't know is, that the certain ghoulette has a little something prepared in return.

Word count: 1.078

Ghost masterlist

The shy water ghoul has been pining after this earth ghoulette for weeks now. He has fallen head over heels for you. Like a puppy in love, he follows you around, doing whatever you ask of him, even if it's minor. He doesn't dare at all, he does it out of love for you. It's just the calming aura you surround yourself and others with and your love for nature, that made him fall for you. His fellow bandmates have noticed, and encourages him to tell you how he feels about you. He would have done so already, but he's determined to ask you properly. A proper water ghoul type of way.

For every elemental type, there's a different tradition to ask your mate out. For the earth type it's pretty straightforward, they will find the prettiest flowers they can find that remind them of their mate and make a bouquet for them out of those flowers.

Air ghouls will do various things, that can both involve the two or the one asking. Usually they will write a song and sing for the other, serenade the other in a way. Or if they have known each other for a longer time then sometimes they would choreograph a little dance and invite them to dance with them.

For the fire types, it might be a bit surprising. They would get a slice of a tree stump (don't ask them how, it's a fire ghoul thing) and engrave something in it that reminds them of themselves. The various rings on the slice of stump represent the number of years they want to spend time together. And maybe later on the line they will plant a tree together, the older the tree, the longer the couple lasts.

The quintessence and multi ghouls pick one of the four, usually with thing they resonate most with.

And last but not least, water ghouls. They are a bit more subtle than their fire counterpart. They like to find the smoothest rock from a riverbed or the ocean shore. If a water ghoul invests the time into finding the perfect rock for their mate, it means that they are truly in love and think that they want to spend eternity with the other, if they'll accept.

So then you have Rain, determined to find the smoothest, shiniest rock for his (hopefully) mate to be. And for the next couple of days he leaves and looks around rivers and oceans for the perfect rock. Luckily it's very fast and easy for water ghouls to move through water, they're practically flying through it. And it's a good thing that rivers and oceans are connected. For the first few days he’ll come back empty handed and dejected, close to giving up. Eventually, he does come back with a few rocks that he thinks might work as a gift, but in the end he would throw them out, determined that he can find better ones for you. After all, you only deserve the best of the best.

So he continues searching, and while he's taking a break he sees a glimmer rock beneath several other rough rocks. It's the perfect size, the perfect amount of shininess, it's the smoothest rock he has ever seen, and to make it even better, it has the slightest shade of blue in it. The color of the water ghouls. He eagerly takes it out of the water and gives it one more look over to check if it's actually perfect for you. Once he's satisfied and is sure that it's the rock for you, he heads home ready to ask you to be his mate.

***

You've been asking around, wondering where a certain water ghoul has vanished off to. All of them shrugged and told you that he’ll be back soon. They clearly know something that you don't. You patiently wait for him, wanting to spend some time with him. You've fallen quite a bit for Rain. So naturally as an earth ghoulette, you've prepared a little bouquet for him. You've taken the bouquet out of the vase in your room and hold it in your hands as you wait anxiously for Rain to come back in the commons room, hoping that he likes you back, even if it's in the slightest. You watch the door as other ghouls and ghoulettes walk by and give you smiles. Already knowing what Rain has in store for you.

Eventually, the door creaks open and in walks Rain, dripping a little water inside. He's cradling the rock in his hands, protecting it with the best of his abilities, not wanting anything to happen to the precious rock. As he meets your eyes, his smile drops, and his tail sags. “Are you waiting for someone?” He timidly asks you, not so sure of his rock anymore. You give him a slight smile, “yes, he's been disappearing a lot recently, and I've missed him, it made me realize my feelings for him.” His eyes water a bit as he casts his gaze towards the floor. His tail hanging limply now, absolutely dejected. Realizing what he's probably holding in his hands, you smile. Considering his reaction you figure he likes you in the same way you do. You stand up, and walk towards him, “that certain someone is a tall water ghoul. He's pretty shy, but he's really smart. He can be really protective of his loved ones, and loves to play music, specifically his bass.”

As if light bulbs are surrounding his head. He whips his head up, his tail rising and waving around in excitement. You laugh, “that certain water ghoul is you, Rain. This bouquet here is for you. I hope you like it, I tried my best.” You hand it out to him and he gingerly takes it from you. He lets out a little laugh, “I can't believe you beat me to it. Well, I might as well give this to you now.” He says as he opens up his palm to reveal this beautiful rock. “This rock is for you, I hope you treasure it as much as I treasure you.” You smile brightly up at him and nod. “I will for eternity, Rain. I love it.” He beams at you and pulls you in for a kiss. As you both pull away, he smiles again, “I'm really glad you're actually mine now, (Y/n). I love you, my droplet. You make me whole.”

#ghost #ghost band #ghost band x reader #nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghoul #nameless ghoul x reader #the band ghost #the band ghost x reader #rain #rain ghoul #rain x reader #rain ghoul x reader #rain ghost

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isablooo · 10 months

Text

Hi, I'm Isablooo 🍓, I'm a Jamaican-British artist who loves Gothic literature, historical fashion, fantasy and mythology! I mostly draw my original characters and fanart of books I love, but I aspire to make webcomics!

Webcomic projects:

♥ I'm currently working on my debut comic, 'Dracula's Guest', which will be a short prequel to Dracula! It follows Jonathan Harker's adventures as he travels through Munich and is based on Stoker's working notes and the deleted second chapter. You can follow my side blog for this comic @draculasguestcomic

♥ My next project will be a webcomic adaptation of my favourite book, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley! To get a taste, please check out my #frankenstein tag or my #isabelledrawslit tag for my other book fanart!

My true pride and joy are my original story projects:

♥ My Gothic vampire story, Séverine's Perfumery is about a vampire perfumier as she goes about her daily life in the fashionable city of Verdeux.

♥ My longest and most ambitious project is my fantasy epic, Search for Quintessence, about a young hill-folk girl called Orolin who wishes to find out the secrets of the God's magic, known as 'the Quintessence.' It's been my passion project for years and I can't wait to make it into a fully fledged comic!

For more info about me, my original story projects and introductions to my OCs, please check out my carrd!

Art tag ♥ carrd ♥ Instagram ♥ DeviantArt

#thought it was about time for a new intro <3 #artists on tumblr #isablooo #search for quintessence #long post #severine's perfumery #frankenstein

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coffeeghoulie · 1 month

Note

for the kiss ask, 7 with dewphantom? :333

I do call them Aeon in this, I hope that's alright!

Prompt from this list

#7: to shut them up

"Dew?"

Dew blinks awake, back pressed against the wall of his bunk. The bus is swaying gently, and he can feel the vibrations of the engine even back here, in the darkness behind his privacy curtain. His sleep was restless anyways. The bunk has been too empty, too cold, even though the fire in his chest hasn't burned any lower.

"Voidling?" he mumbles. He paws the curtain open, revealing Aeon, blanket in hand, worrying at the skin around their claws, hands held up by their chest. They startle, even though they had called for him.

"Did I wake you?" they whisper, tail lashing behind them, the spade scraping against the rough carpet lining the aisle floor.

Dew shrugs, patting the space beside him. "You want in?"

They don't answer, crawling into Dew's bunk, dragging their blanket in with them. Dew's hit with the ozone scent of barely in-control quintessence, the tartness of blackberries underneath, and he's quick to reach out, hand just above their bicep.

"How'd you feel about touch, voidling?"

They nod, and Dew doesn't hesitate, pulling the younger ghoul into his arms, his narrow chest pressed against their back. "So," he hums, nosing at the soft black hair at the base of their skull. "Can't sleep?"

"Brain won't shut up," Aeon whispers, clutching the soft, violet fabric to their face, muffling their words.

Dew hums, a rusty purr kicking up in his chest. This has never been his strong suit, but Belial, Aeon came to him, and he'd be damned back to the Pit before he didn't at least try to help them. "You want to talk about it?"

Aeon tenses in his arms, and Dew purrs a little louder, hand rubbing up and down their bicep. "It's okay if you don't wa-"

"Do you think any of them really like me?" Aeon blurts out, turning in Dew's arms so they're facing him. Dew tenses, brow furrowing as he pulls them closer, chest to chest.

"What do you mean, voidling?" An icy feeling fills Dew's chest as Aeon begins to ramble.

"I don't think any of the fans like me, I keep making mistakes and I can feel Papa looking at me and I'm here instead of him and I'm not doing a good enough job taking his pl-"

He's had enough. He takes their face in his hands, spindly fingers, weaving into their hair as he kisses them softly.

"Voidling, sweet thing, listen to me, okay?"

Aeon nods, their violet eye crossed as they look at him, practically nose to nose. They're shaking, and Dew wishes he were better at this. But they came to him.

"They love you, voidling," he says, leaning closer to kiss between their eyes. "I promise you. You're doing just fine. And we all make mistakes, and we've been doing this a lot longer than you have."

"Thanks, Dew," they whisper, leaning into his hands.

"I know I've shown you that one time Swiss ate shit during Year Zero and fucked up his back," Dew says, scrabbling for his phone. "I don't think anyone's showed you this yet, voidling, but I fucked up Ritual one time so bad, I mimed shooting myself on stage, I was so embarrassed."

They laugh, a little chuckle, and Dew can feel it from where they're pressed together. He pulls back just a little to search for the clip. Dew feels Aeon relaxing against him, and counts it as a win.

#soft dewdrop my beloved #dot's writing #dewdrop ghoul #aeon ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #kiss prompts #anon request #dew/aeon

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emmetrain · 2 years

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"...that girl couldn't find him anywhere. She swears she combed the place over, and I'm inclined to believe her... But at least your brother isn't stuck in such a dangerous place."

Emmet felt himself floating,any moment now, and he would not be there. He did not want to hear this. He did not want to know one more door closed in his dear brother’s case. One more failure on Emmet’s part.

He brought his hand together to clutch his chest, as he lowered his head, trying to catch his breath.

“I... I see. I am grateful. Thank you, Miss Lusamine. I would like to forward my thanks to the kind person who searched for my brother as well. I... I do not know where this place is, b-but you are right!”

A deep breath as the system went through a hard reset no matter the consequences. A big smile on his face, he nodded at her.

“Thank you. Ingo is not in danger that place could have posed. That’s good news. I am glad. My brother is verrrry strong. I know he must be out there, still. I... I will find him. And I hope he will get to thank you and the girl himself for all your kindness and help.”

#luminiferous-quintessence #luminiferousquintessence #ic #ask;; suggestions and complaints #verse;; searching for the truth #//he is not going to excuse himself and then go cry in the nearest hiding place :''))))

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p1nkcanoe · 8 months

Note

Prompt: Swiss giving Phantom/Aeon his first knot

Pleader

[ swiss x phantom smut ]

warnings: knotting (duh), dubcon elements words: 2053

Click here to read on Ao3 or read below:

“Mmmrrnn~”

“If you don’t stop making noises someone’s going to come looking for us,” Swiss warns. He bends over Phantom’s back where he’s bent at the waist and pressed to one of the old mahogany library desks and gives him another deep thrust, rolling his eyes when the ghoul makes yet another noise as if he hadn’t heard him at all. “Unbelievable.”

It’s Swiss’ fault, really. He’d teased the quintessence ghoul all day long with lingering touches, playful little slaps on his ass and even a sneaky dick grab during lunch, gotten him all worked up and then had the audacity to act surprised when he came searching for him out in the library during their work hours. Luckily Swiss has the library to himself. He’d been assigned to organize the books from the storage room with Rain, but then the water ghoul had somehow managed to get roped into something “more important” in the basement and Phantom was more than happy to volunteer in his place.

“Oh, Swiss…” the smaller ghoul tries between pointed thrusts. “Good. It’s so good.” His claws dig scars into the wood that will never be buffed out.

“I’m glad, I really am, but you’ve really gotta stop talking.”

To no one’s surprise, Phantom lets a particularly loud moan fall past his lips with the next snap of his hips and Swiss is quick to slap a palm over his mouth to shut him up. The sound echoes throughout the library equally as loud as Phantom’s vocalizations, and Swiss cringes. He changes his position, smothers the ghoul’s chest with his back and leans on his forearms so that they are bent and flat on the table. His hand pushes harder over Phantom’s mouth so unforgivingly that the ghoul struggles to breathe out his nose, whimpers and drools into his palm. He’s quieter, but only because he’s muffled. In actuality, he only seemed to somehow get louder despite the slowing of Swiss’ thrusts and the attempt at smothering his noises.

Swiss pulls out slowly, rests his forehead on Phantom’s sweaty nape and breathes in his rich scent and the barely there tingle of quintessence sparkling under his skin, and pushes back in even slower, focusing on the warm feeling and embrace that is Phantom and his pretty hole. He fucks him like this for a while, lets him calm down until his breathing evens out and he reduces back to little hums and the occasional whimper, and eventually Swiss hesitantly unmuzzles him. The reaction is almost immediate.

“Please, Swiss. Please.”

“If I go any faster you’ll get us caught.”

“No, that's not–”

“Then what are you even begging for?”

Phantom pushes his forehead into the desk, groans and squeezes around the ghoul so tight that one of Swiss’ hands attaches itself to his side and digs in for purchase and control. Phantom mewls and Swiss almost covers his mouth again but then he watches as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and he licks wet and broad at the desk under him. It’s an adrenaline-driven action, that much is obvious, but Swiss can’t help but watch in awe as the ghoul falls victim to his own lust and desire.

“Give it to me,” he finally says, muttered against the now slick and sticky surface. “Need it.”

“You have it–”

“No, not enough. Want it,” he cranes his neck to look the multi ghoul right in his golden eyes. His own flash purple with a sudden surge of quintessence. There’s something there, something wild. It’s hard to ignore. “Want your knot…”

Despite how much Phantom’s admission makes his cock throb and his skin to flush with red hot heat, he shakes his head and rises back up to his full height, giving the ghoul another slow, deep thrust. “Oh, no… Not here. This is not a good place for that.” Phantom whines, drops his forehead back into the spit-slick wood and digs his claws into it. He looks like a child throwing a fit and Swiss won’t have any of that.

“Please, need it so bad.”

Swiss shuts him up with a particularly hard and quick thrust, brushing up against that spot in him that makes him jolt and his mouth to fall open in silent cry. “No. Take what I'm giving you.”

Swiss thinks that it’s enough to keep him from begging, enough to get him to shut up and take what Swiss is offering, but then Phantom whines and curls his fingers from the edges of the desk, wraps his hands around the back of Swiss’ thighs, his tail around his torso, and pulls him closer with a seemingly newfound strength. It throws him off guard and he gets pulled in deep, deeper than his last few thrusts, and Phantom moans out again, loud and unabashed. To say Swiss is irritated is an understatement. He growls, deep and threatening, and shoves the ghoul’s hands and tail away from his skin, but Phantom is quick to put them right back, and this time he digs his claws into the flesh of cheeks, breaking skin and forcing a hiss from the larger ghoul. He shoves him away again, harder this time, and Phantom’s about to try again when Swiss grabs him by his wrists and pins his hands to the desk with bruising force. The loss of his hands doesn’t stop him from trying to grind himself back onto his cock.

“Oh, you little– you’re pissing me off. Why are you being so ungrateful?”

“Need it, Swiss. Please. Knot me. Knot me right here. Right now.”

Truth be told, Swiss’ knot isn’t even inflated yet. Yeah, it’s very slowly starting to build, but if Phantom hadn’t started begging for it, it truly would have been an afterthought–a problem for another time–because no, Swiss hadn’t planned on knotting someone in the library today, especially with work hours ending sometime within the next half hour. This was supposed to be a quick thing, a fun little fuck, a distraction from the real tasks at hand, and now his knot is growing, beginning to bump against Phantom’s hole as it swells against his own desires. And of course, the other ghoul notices.

A loopy little smile appears on the ghouls face as Swiss fucks him, his body rocking up the desk with every thrust of Swiss’ hips. He looks back at him with his cheek pressed to the surface, brows furrowed together and tilted up at the center in pleasure, and his mouth left just the smallest amount ajar so that he drools from the corner of his mouth into a little puddle. He keeps fucking him controlled but deliberate and Phantom’s lips curl up even more when Swiss’ knot fills out that much more.

“Shut up,” he warns. A large hand gets placed in the center of Phantom’s back, right where his dark and light side of his body splits, and he leans forward to press his weight into the heel of his hand. The pressure pushes the air from his lungs and Phantom moans out little ah, ah, ah’s with each push into his ass until his lungs deflate and Swiss allows him the smallest intake of breath just to keep him from complaining.

He feels it, too. He’s inflating rapidly. The sight of Phantom’s flushed face drawn up all pretty while he fucks him on his dick along with the sound of his moans and his pleads replaying in his head over and over again, it’s too much to keep him from not. But no matter what, under no circumstances, will he knot the ghoul. No matter how much he tries to fuck himself on it, or how much he begs, he won’t tie them together. Not here. Doing so would just create a burden for the two, and embarrassment he’d never live down if someone were to walk in on them. So he readjusts his feet, finds that angle that feels good and new, and starts to really fuck him again, not caring about the punched out noise that comes out of him on the first thrust. He’s gonna fuck him good, fuck him thoroughly and quick before his knot swells up completely so that he can’t knot him. It’s a foolproof plan… If Swiss wasn’t already so swollen.

Swiss lets go of Phantom’s wrists, replaces them on his hips instead so he can pull the ghoul back on his cock when he snaps his hips forward. The sounds of skin on skin echo throughout the large space and Swiss forgets about being careful, forgets about the risk, and pounds him into the hard wooden edge. When his hips meet his ass, Phantom’s hip bones knock painfully against the desk. He doesn’t seem to mind too much.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s good. So good. Keep going, give it to me. Give it to me, I know you want to,” he babbles.

“I’m not knotting you, I already told you.”

“You want to.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

He’s beyond arguing with him. Phantom’s close. He is too. His belly burns, tightens up with each clench of Phantom’s hole around his painfully hard dick, and each bump of Swiss’ knot has Phantom begging and sure-set on getting it. “Keep clenching around me,” he groans and moves his hands up across Phantom’s back to hook over his shoulders. His back arches gorgeously and he readjusts his body to plant his elbows on the desk, his hands over Swiss’ in an attempt at intimate closeness. “Keep clenching, I’m close.”

Phantom does as he’s told, clenches tight around Swiss and the multi ghoul groans, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. Phantom’s tail finds its place curled around his torso again. The spade digs into the soft plush of his belly, surely imprinting itself there. The coil in his belly tightens, gets tighter and tighter and tighter until it finally unwinds and he shoves himself as deep as he can go without popping his knot inside. He grinds deep, cums hot and sticky ropes of cum into Phantom’s hole, and Phantom’s tail begins to tighten impossibly more.

“Ant–” he starts. His voice catches in his throat when Phantom drops his chest and wraps his arms back around to grab at strong hips. “Ant–don’t–” By the time he moves to shove his hands away it’s too late. Phantom grinds back on that fat cock, pulls his hips and his body in hard with a burst of strength, and with a lewd pop Swiss’ knot slips into his hole and Phantom screams.

His orgasm multiplies in intensity tenfold and he doubles over when his knees go unexpectedly weak, smothering the ghoul with his body once more and digging his teeth into the soft and sweaty skin between his neck and his shoulder. Phantom goes rigid beneath him, reaching his own orgasm and spurting all over that pretty, antique mahogany with gorgeous, strangled cries.

Swiss can’t believe it. The little shit knotted himself.

“Fucking shit,” Phantom cries. His voice trembles, laced with hints of pain and the aftershocks of his orgasm. He releases his hands from Swiss’ hips, untangles his tail, and tries to adjust against the wood but the movement only pulls painfully at where they’re tied and both ghouls hiss.

Swiss plants a kiss over the already bruised mark on the light side of his neck–a stark contrast to the roughness it took to put it there, and he sighs, nuzzles into the ghoul’s hair. “Now look at what you’ve done… I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

Phantom hums, indeed pleased with himself. The slightest rumble of a purr begins to vibrate from his chest.

“Put us quite in a predicament…”

“How long does it take to deflate?”

“A while.” Swiss’ arms curl under Phantom’s hips and he squeezes, embracing the ghoul in warmth and attempt at comfort. “Just don’t move. We’re gonna be here for a while because of you.”

Phantom’s purr gets louder and he wraps his tail around Swiss’ thigh. The multi ghoul rolls his eyes and gets as comfortable as he can get with the awkward angle and position. His eyes stay fixed to the door to the rest of the abbey and he says a little prayer that nobody comes in to check on his progress with the books.

#title from pleader by alt-j #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss x phantom

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calxia · 8 months

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Prompt: What if Phantom just…ran away? Withdrew whatever money ghouls get paid in cash, donned a human disguise and just *poof* gone. He leaves a note, maybe. In the hopes that this is what makes the others care about him, knowing that he’ll probably get himself killed out there by himself or something.

Thank you so much for bearing with me while I've been sick!

I like to imagine the ghouls don't get paid (their payment is not being sent back to the pit) and they have to rely on the clergy to buy them stuff. Maybe they get pocket money like you give a little kid, but it's only about £10 a week or something minor. Phantom's not really versed in everything human though, so he probably doesn't think to take his meagre funds with him.

He's been on earth for about four months at this point -and has even played his first leg of the tour- but the other ghouls still seem to want nothing to do with him. They range from ignoring him to being hostile towards him, yet not a single member of the pack has shown him any sort of compassion or kindness.

He's had enough of not getting a second glance. Of being ignored and berated for things he didn't do just because he's a convenient victim to blame. He'd seen the road that leads away from the chapel for the first time when the band had left for tour. Since then, he had tried to walk it multiple times but was stopped each time by a clergy ghoul or sibling of sin. It didn't make sense why they would be so against him leaving, given how nobody even took much notice of him anyway. He would be easily replaceable by any other clergy ghoul. He was not necessary.

Phantom decides to try one last time to escape the clergy and, along with it, the malice directed towards him. He leaves under the shadow of the moon after a ritual when most siblings and ghouls would be busy in the festivities. This time he sticks to the densely wooded land that borders the path and blends into the shadows. All he has to do is make it off clergy grounds and then he can glamour and escape somewhere he could rot away in peace.

He makes it to the gates with no issues and quickly throws up his glamour before setting off towards the nearest town.

~~~~

Phantom doesn't show up for rehearsal the next day. Or the day after that. Or the next day either. It gets to a week before Copia sends the ghouls to try and find him. Sister Imperator was breathing down his neck about the absent quintessence ghoul. They were difficult to summon and there was not enough time left for a new ghoul to be fully trained before the next leg of the tour started.

The pack split up to search the abbey grounds for any sign of the missing ghoul. Rain was sent to search the newest summon's room and the ghoul's quarters. None of them had seen his door open the entire time he had been absent, and Rain was half expecting it to be locked when he tried the handle. It was not.

The door creaked open to reveal a bare room. There was a thin layer of dust beginning to settle in the room and the half-full glass on the desk had a layer of mould beginning to grow on top of it. Nobody had been in this room for a while.

A piece of paper was on the window seat. Rain approached slowly and picked it up.

In crude handwriting, it read: I've realised that I'm no longer wanted so I'll no longer bother you with my presence. It was signed Phantom.

How on Earth were they going to explain this to Copia?

#i might do a part 2 eventually #phantom ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #ghost headcanons #ghoul headcanons #calxwrites #the runaway

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nameless-ghoul-trash · 9 months

Text

Papa emeritus IV X Ghoul!Mom!F!Reader (Part 1)

Ghouls age different than humans. (Y/N) was a perfect example of this fact. Through her many years in the abbey, she was unchanging, compared to her human counterparts. Keeping almost the same unearthly grace and beauty she had the day they were summoned. She has seen so many faces come and go as she remained to same in appearance.

The quintessence ghoul had been around the abbey for as long as anyone could remember. Summoned nearly 7 generations of Papa's ago, by Papa Nihals grandfather. Before even the ghost project ghouls.

Due to this (Y/N) grew to hold humans, and even ghouls, at arms length. Leaving her private life her own. She was also known to rarely take lovers, if any at all. Tired of grieving the losses of companions throughout her time as a part of the ministry. This never stopped her from being kind, though. She took care of everyone around her. Making sure everyone is fed, clean, happy, and healthy. She had earned the nickname "Ma" and "Mama Ghoul" because of her motherly nature. Little does anyone know she is just that, a mom. A mom who misses her kit.

2.7k words

Lightly proof read.

Warning: sodo being a softy?, Cussing

Part 2

You looked around the common area, making a mental checklist of the tasks that needed to be done. Placing your headphones in, you quickly got to work cleaning the areas. You were charged with keeping the ghoul dens clean, tidy, and stocked. It was just one of the many chores you completed daily. While most of the ghouls were out doing their own things, you would care for the dens. Ensuring everyone had a nice place to come to by the end of the day. The dens span over the east wing of the abbey. The different eras of the ghost project having their own spaces and one large den for the rest of the ghouls in the abbey. That's where your room was. You were currently in the den for the Imprea era ghouls. This one being made up of 12 bed rooms, only 8 of which were occupied, a common area, and a small but comfortable kitchen. It is the last ghoul den that needed done for the day.

You make your way around gathering the different "nesting" materials laying in various areas of the room. Folding the blankets, you hang all of them one by one on the blanket ladders. You fallow by placing the pillows in their respective spots and putting the random articles of clothing stung about in the hamper. Wiping down and dusting the needed surfaces, you finish by vacuuming and taking out the trash. Doing a once over of the space, you deem it good enough. Pulling out your headphones, you look over to the clock on the wall. Quarter till noon. Almost lunch time. Turning off all the lights, you make your out into the hall. You would be back later that night. It was your turn to clean up after supper.

Making your way to the dining hall in the larger ghouls den, you grab a light lunch and make your way toward the emptiest table available. You prefer to eat in the ghouls den over the regular dining hall, like most ghouls. Avoiding the crowds and loudness that comes with dining with all the siblings of sin. You avoided them whenever possible. Hearing heavy footsteps approaching, you turn slightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a very unpleased looking Sodo making his way towards you. His tail thrashed behind him violently. Reaching the table, he pulls out his chair and throws himself in it, arms crossed, looking straight ahead. If his body language didn't signale that he was pissed, the heat rolling off his body in waves sure did. Blinking at him, you note the ghoulettes, swiss and rain take a seat further down to long table beside Sodo. You also take notice of the absence of two other ghouls that were typically with the group. Turning your attention back to Sodo, you search for an explanation. "Hey, what wrong?" You asked Sodo softy. He looked over to you and seemed ready to explode. "They pulled Aether from the upcoming tour. Ma, the fuck are we supposed to do?" His out burst startled you slightly but you were quick to recover. Sodo retracted into himself trying not to let grief and anger over take him. Casting a glance at the others they seem to be in a similar states of distress. Grabbing onto Sodo, you drug him into a standing position with little to no protest. Nodding for the others to fallow you, you leave your lunch abandoned on the table. Leading them all to you room to avoid unwanted attention. "Where is Aether and Mountain?" You asked, opening your door to let everyone in. "Aether is still with Copia and Sister Imperator. Mountain is probably in the garden. He split off after we left practice." Swiss answered. The taller ghoul did not come to you in search of comfort as often as the others did. You never pushed him to either. He would when he needed it.

Sitting down on the ground in a circle, you had Cumulus to your left and Sodo to your right. Opening the arms, you let him lean into you. You had always had a soft spot for him. He reminded you of your kit in ways. High energy and a quick tongue. Then again, Rain and him shared similar traits to. You had not seen him in so long.

"Okay, tell me what happened." You throw out. Everyone started talking at once, overlapping each others words. "Hey! Okay, one at a time!" You called out. "We were in practice. Everything was fine, but Sister Imperator came in and announced the need for a band meeting." Rain answered first, Cirrus picking up where he left off. "Going on about pulling Aether and summoning a replacement. Blah, blah, blah. We don't need a replacement! Aether is just fine!" She throws her hands up, tail thuding on the floor. "Did Papa know? Was he part of the decision?" You pushed. "I don't think so. He was pretty upset, too." It was Cumulus' turn to answer. The thought pained you a little. You had met Copia in his early twenties, but only getting to learn who he was as a person when he had become Cardinal. He was awkward but had always been kind and did not ask for a lot. He never treated you any different than he did any human. Occasionally, you would run into each other in the garden or in the halls, and he would always take the time to exchange pleantries or take a short walk with you. He had also asked to help if you were working on chores every now and then. You had become quite fond of him. None of that changed even after he became Papa, though you did see him less and less.

"He was trying to talk to Imperator with Aether when we were dismissed." Sodo mumbles into your shoulder. "They can't take Aeth away. I don't understand." Looking down at the fire ghoul, you rubbed his back in a comforting manner. Using some of your quintessence for added affect. "Was it explained why they are replacing him?" You asked. It didn't make much sense to you why they would. Aether is one of Copia's longest standing ghouls. He was also fiercely loyal. They all were. To there Papa and to each other. Everyone stayed quiet for a moments, the tension that had slowly been dissipating started to rise once more. "Sister Imperators' only reasoning was something about the need for someone new. Possibly someone younger." Swiss's words made your blood turned to ice, tail twitching and ears flattening back. You had heard something similar said by Sister Imperator some time ago. It ended with a certain Papa you had considered a close friend dead.

Aether was one of the older one in the group, yes, but they had just introduced Aurora to the band in place of Sunshine for this tour. "I'm going to go talk to Papa. See if I can't figure out more of what's going on." You let a pouting Sodo sit up, getting to your feet. "You guys are free to lounge around in here if you want. I'll be back later." You quickly made her exit, closing the door softly.

------

Sodo looked at the ghouls around him. Ripping his mask off, he flops back with a groan. "This is turning out to be a shit day. And to top it off (Y/N)'s upset now, too." Sodo sounded defeated. Sodo had an attachment to the older ghoul. She had always had a way of calming him and getting him to talk. Always being there to help. Burn a hole in his clothes? No problem, she'll add patches. Have a headache? She'll offer to rub your neck and temples. He had always been able to rely on her. So had all the others. "We should probably go find Mountain and see if Aether is out of the meeting yet." Rain suggested. Everyone grumbles their agreements. Collectively, they stood and made their way to the door, Sodo slipping his mask back on.

------

You had checked the practice room first in hopes of finding Copia. No such luck. You now found your at his office door. Taking a second to breath, you reins in your thoughts. You knew getting attached to anyone would get you in unwanted situations again, but the group had weaseled their way into the spaces of your heart.

With a sigh, you knocked on the door and waited a second for a reply. After hearing a muffled "Enter," you let yourself in. Moving into the office, it smelt heavily of burning incense. Looking around the room, you take in the different details. From the couch to your right to the little trinkets that litter one of his bookshelves on the left. (E/C) eyes finally settled on Copia at his desk. "Oh! Fiore! Please, sit! What brings you here?" He scrambled to clean up his desk and make himself presentable. "I am far from a fragile little flower, Papa." You giggled, taking a seat in the chair placed in front of his desk, tail curling up towards your thigh. Soft eyes take him in. He looks like he'd been crying. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and his papal makeup smeared beyond saving. "Not all flowers are, cara, some are deadly and have a bite to them. And please! Call me Copia." He graces you with a soft smile. "Now what brings a bel fiore, such as yourself, to me today?" Sigh softy, you lock eyes with Copia. "Your ghouls came to me about today. What's going on? They are all angry and upset." Copia's faces falls and a sadness seeps deep into his eyes. Slumping back into his chair, he takes a deep breath. "I am assuming you are talking about the Aether situation?" You nod. "Sister is using it as a form of punishment for me. I am not meeting her expectations. This is her way of telling me, "Get your act together."" He says the last part in a mocking manner. A look of shock crosses your face. "I hope she realizes that you are not the only one that she is punishing with this. The entire band will feel this. It will affect them all on an almost catastrophic level! Aether is an important part of the band." A look of desperation falls over his face. "(Y/N), fiore, I am well aware. Ma cosa devo fare? I tried. She would not budge. I realize what is at stake here, but there is only so much I can do!" They both go silent for a couple of moments. Realization settled in the pit the pit of your stomach. He truly had no control over her decisions. Copia rans his gloved hands over his face, smearing the papal paint more. "Is she sending him back to the pit?" You whispered the question.

You half yearned to go back, but afraid of what you would do if the time ever came. You had been in the abbey so long. You would leave so much behind, but what about what you had left in the pit. You were giving up something either way. "Lucifer, no! That is something I would never allow! This could just be temporary. I will figure something out. Sister plans to summon the new ghoul next friday." 9 days from now. You studied him. He looked truly exhausted. "You're going to have to go talk to them." Copia let out a defeated sigh, "I know." "They are devastated." "I know. I know." "So what are you going to do?" He sat in thought at the question. He was good with the ghouls. They were his family, but this was uncharted territory for them all. "Will you help me talk to them?" He seems unsure of himself at his own question. When you didn't answer immediately, he started to ramble, neck and ears turning red. "You don't have to if you don't want to! I just figured the ghouls hold you in a high regard and that -" "I'll help." You cut him off, offering a small smile. "When do you want to do it?" Copia visibly relaxed. He was honestly slightly surprised that you agreed. "After supper tonight? After they have eaten?" Copia suggested. You nodded. "That'll work. I have supper clean up for their den tonight."

Copia smiled at you. "Molto bene! Then it is set! Meet at the den around 6:30?" "That works." Setting his hands on his desk, he is a little more cheerful.

"Now that we have a plan, tell me, il mio fiore, how have you been? Our little chats have grown to be few and far between. I think about you sometimes, though!" His word brings a small blush to your face. "I have been alright, I suppose. Just busy. How have you been, Copia?"

"I have been very busy myself. With all my duties as Papa and now the in coming tour. It's has been quite a lot to handle, but we make due. Sister is not always pleased I have found." Copia quiets at the end. "I will get everything under control, though. I just have to, emmm, figure it all out." He says with what seems to be almost a fained confidence. Like he was trying to convince himself more than you. "You can ask for help, Copia. With all your duties and paperwork." You flick one of the many piles of paper on his desk. "You know that, right? You truly are not alone in this. I'm sure most of us would be willing to step in and help if you just ask." Copia stilled, as if what you said surprised him. "I could never ask anyone to take on my work. Especially on top of everything you all already do." You giggle softly at him. He is so stubborn. "Copia, I'm sure it would be fine. Hell, I'll help you get caught up every night after my chores if you need. You have a lot on your plate right now and have to prepare to welcome a new ghoul into your circle soon. That's not going to be an easy feat. I bet you could get it done in no time if you let people help." Copia took in every word.

The man had always liked you. He had developed a small crush on you in his younger years. He never could quite get over it, but he never acted on it too much, either. The occasional flirty compliment or a small effort to go out of his way to make conversation, but nothing past that. "I suppose you are right. I appreciate the offer, fiore. Truly, but you have much on your plate as well. I will take your advice and look into getting help." You laughed gently. Moving to stand up, you offered a small smile. "I hope you do. I have chores the need finished, so unfortunately, I'm going to cut our time short. Thank you for your time. I'll see you at 6:30." Copia makes his way around the desk and over to the door. "Yes, thank you for coming to me. I will see you then." He opens the door for you. Stopping at in the frame, you look back to him. "Oh, and one more thing." He waits a moment. "They regard you just as high. Don't ever doubt your ghouls." With that, you take your leave. Closing the door, Copia strides back to his desk. Taking a seat, he let out a long breath. He has a lot to think about.

Bel - lovely

Fiore - flower

Cara - dear

Ma cosa devo fare - but what am i to do?

Molto bene - very good

Il mio fiore - my flower

Hello friends! I decided to turn this into a multi part series. I hope you enjoy part 1! I appreciate any feedback as this I my first fic. I am also accepting requests. Thank you for your read!

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