#I may write that idk

[the-mountain-flower]

If marriage in Aurora is at all like in our world, then it's possible that, as an honorary emissary, Erin can officiate marriages (at least in Asera).

I am surprised I haven't found any fics that make use of that yet

[remxedmoon]

practicing self care (projecting my stims on my blorbos)

greyscale vers below the cut!

[radiance1]

Danny often felt tired, as of late.

He wasn't certain as to why he did, though. It happened after his, apparent, coronation as the Prince of the Infinite Realms and after finally getting a boyfriend out of that damsel in distress who made him into one.

Which was unfortunate, because though he may try, it was very hard to pay attention on dates when Danny felt he just came from using the Ecto-Skeleton and no amount of sleep would make it go away. Fortunately, however, Billy was very understanding and accommodating of his plight, letting him sleep on him whenever he wanted and having their dates be less mentally/physically demanding things.

Man, Danny loved his boyfriend.

Unfortunately, he was away on one of his Justice League mission things.

Another thing he noticed, is that he liked to sleep in more cold places now. Very, very cold places.

So much so, that he genuinely debated moving to the Far Frozen if not for his parents turning his room into a literal walk-in freezer for him.

Did he ever find out why he needs to sleep so much? No, not really. But man.

Danny could go down for a nap right now.

---

Pariah was having a good, very good day.

He woke up, stretched, ate some food he didn't actually need to, did some light exercises after aeons of not using his sword and just fighting in general and sat down for some tea.

Even had a letter from the Master of Time with a P.S that two humans would be busting down his door!

Wait what-

"Ghost King!" Came the rather loud, effeminate shout accompanying the loud slam of his castle doors. "Where is our son!"

Honestly, Pariah is impressed by the lungs on that human.

"You heard her!" He looked down calmly at the... Actually, what in the infinite is that? Since when did humans go walking around with cannons??? "Tell us where our son is our so help me! Ghost King or not we'll exorcise you right where you stand!"

Pariah blinked slowly, very, very slowly.

Then took a sip of his favorite ghost blend then calmly placed the cup back down.

"You must be the boy's, human, parents I presume?" He asked calmly, gaze sweeping over them both. They seemed to be prepared for war, a burning fire in their eyes as they stared down the very King of Infinity and saw only an obstacle.

Oooooh, how that made the part of him that longed, sung for battle purr in sheer delight.

"Why don't you join me for tea?" He said, waving a hand and conjuring forth two extra, human sized, chairs on the opposing end of his table alongside two more tea cups. "And explain whatever is going on, while you're at it."

The two shared a glance between each other, then slowly lowered their weapons down to a point where they could still draw them at a moment's notice, yet not actively antagonizing the king at the same time-

Oh, he just loves these types of mortals.

-before slowly making their way to their seats, which were right next to each other of course. Married and whatnot.

"Tea?" He flicked a finger, filling their cups with the same that was in his cup but before remembering. "Ah, right. Human and your mortality." He casually mentioned, flicking his finger and changing the liquid to one of the few mortal blends he could still recall. "Worry not, for they are not poisoned." He chuckled lightly.

Honestly, doing such a thing would be beneath him, especially when faced with mortals of such fire.

"Now," He brought his cup to his lips. "Why don't you inform me as to what, exactly, has brought you to my doorstep prepared for battle?"

They, once more, exchanged a glance between each other, making sure the king was still in sight before Maddie opened her lips.

"Our son is missing."

---

The summoning was a success.

A terrible, terrible success.

One that the Justice League, One John Constantine especially, had valiantly attempted to stop.

But, unfortunately, once it got going it seemed to be incapable of stopping.

Faced with an entity being summoned from the Infinite Realms, they had called all of the heroes who were capable that weren't occupied. Shazam, unfortunately, was one of said heroes occupied.

Superman and Wonderwoman? Were not. So, at the very least, they had two of their heaviest hitters available.

The circle glowed a toxic green, growing and growing in glow until it reached its zenith.

Then was snuffed out as brightly as it glowed.

The air stilled, followed by a chill that rivaled the chilliest of snowstorms as if they were standing within one that very moment.

The next moment?

Ice.

Pure, unflinching, jagged pillars of ice rose from the circle the same moment it glow returned. Sticking out from the circle haphazardly and nearly impaling those that stood too close.

Mist, thick, blue mist. Rolled from the pillars of ice, descending down onto the floor with a gentleness that was almost deceptive if not occupied by such cold and being completely and utterly unnatural as it was.

The Justice League readied themselves.

[doccywhomst]

the actual literal meaning of TARDIS (Time and Relative Dimension[s] in Space) is so funny cause it’s just…. a very succinct description of what the vehicle travels through? “hello i’m a human and this is my CAR (Concrete and Roads)” uh yeah i sure hope it do

[awearywritersworld]

mdni

thinking about gojo satoru, who loves seeing you in his boxer briefs, especially when you pull them from the dirty laundry because you need something to slip on real quick.

he loves the way they cling to your thighs.

he loves the way the band accentuates your pretty waist.

he loves the way they ride up and expose the crease of your ass to his hungry eyes.

it's really quite the predicament for him— does he want you to keep them on? or does he want to peel them off and reveal what's underneath?

[eightcure]

Some Danny phantom sketches for the void

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 13?

Danny just gaslighting the JL and JLD.

They summoned the ghost king obviously Danny shows up cause i love that for him. He’s in human form. He does that on purpose.

Must ppl assume they messed up send him back and leave it at that. Nope not these people.

Constantine is checking the summoning circle again. Just tells Danny he won’t fall for his disguise and that he knows that he’s ghost king. And says he wants to make a deal.

Danny knows this man sells his souls more then his parents claim they want to tear phantom up molecule by molecule and he has no use for a soul anyways. So Danny just says if i was a king i wouldn’t be failing high school. He wouldn’t even go to high school.

Then Danny goes on about how he has a bully so obviously he couldn’t be a king. Not to mention his human non royal parents. They were mad scientist and ghost hunters but that’s as interesting as they got. Also hello he is alive what did Constantine think he was secretly a ghost.

Danny then walks around the circle just pointing at the total correct symbols going are you sure it’s meant to be a crown. What if this king is a queen and has a tiara. Like who are you to assume it’s a king if you’ve never met them.

John isn’t falling for it at all. Now everyone else is doubting him. Batman pulled up Danny on the computer a perfectly normal human child. So Danny is gonna pull out the big guns. Looks at him and goes if i step out will that prove I’m not currently the ghost king.

It’s one of the other JLD members who says he wouldn’t be able to if he was king. It was warded to keep the king in. So Danny who is currently human just steps out.

See he’s totally not the just king. Currently.

Turns out they needed someone to deal with the box ghost. Danny just say oh i got that. He soups him and goes i did say my parents were ghost hunters

Danny failed to realize once he stepped out of the circle they couldn’t send him back that way. So now he is stuck being questioned but hey at least he is in space.

[side-of-honey]

Sorry for being kinda dead lately it's been hard to motivate myself to make full pieces ToT Have some doodles in the meantime tho. I enjoyed the purple game big surprise from the portal fan I know

[aychama]

"You are such a fierce thing in battle and yet, become a pile of wool under my claws."

[blaackbiird]

personally I don't think people lean enough into the fact that Lucifer could fucking demolish Alastor without breaking a sweat. There's too many fics where Alastor's threats scare Lucifer and like what??

I love their antagonistic relationship. I love the idea of their rivalry, of them needling each other and pushing each other to break composure. I love the idea that Lucifer is emotional and easily annoyed/pissed off and Alastor loves playing off that.

But if Alastor ever genuinely threatened Lucifer? There's no way Lucifer would take that seriously, or lying down. Of course he'd put Alastor in his place if he ever actually needed to.

I need more fics of Alastor attempting to threaten Lucifer, or pushing Lucifer too far, and then learning exactly why he's the king of Hell.

[the-meme-monarch]

happy birthday to my friends and i’s knight chara and strange someone frisk aus/theories :]

hi for undertale reasons i don’t like any combination of shipping chara frisk and asriel. if you ship them go away 👍

[the-modern-typewriter]

Weapon. They needed a weapon. Unfortunately, all they could come up with was an ancient torchstick that wasn't even on fire.

They hefted up the torch anyway, heart trapped somewhere in their throat, and backed up another step.

Three of the undead lurched towards them. They had the swords, the bastards. They were probably actual fighters too, once, not little idiots who should have died before ever being dragged to this nightmare place.

Maybe they'd get lucky. Maybe the torch would be sufficiently stake-like.

Given the terrible slurping noises the protagonist had heard behind them as they scrambled out of the ancient temple, the screaming that went quiet, they didn't think they'd get lucky. Maybe it was karma.

"Careful now," came a voice. Less raspy, more silken, more alive - but not one that the protagonist recognised. "If you back up any further, you're going to tumble right off the cliff. And wouldn't that be a waste?"

The protagonist didn't dare glance behind them to check if it was true, but they couldn't stop their attention from flicking up.

The beautiful stranger lounged a top of the great door, hastily locked again, watching. They waggled their fingers in a 'hi'.

Maybe falling off a cliff wouldn't be so bad, given the alternative. The protagonist still didn't want to die. Stupidly, they didn't want to die.

The undead lunged for the protagonist's throat.

The protagonist swung the torch wildly. It impacted. It just...didn't do anything. It would have at least winded and doubled over an actual person. But the undead...

The stranger leapt down, landing cat-like in the fray. They had none of the frantic movements of some of the lesser undead; ravenous and rabid.

They clicked their tongue and the undead all stopped, eyeing the two of them warily. They skittered back from the stranger.

The stranger pulled the sword from their own belt and offered it, hilt first, to the protagonist.

"Duel wield?" they offered. "Bit more of a fair fight."

It wasn't remotely, but the protagonist would still take it, with trembling fingers.

The stranger smiled at them. all sharp teeth and searing crimson eyes. They bowed their head. Then they stepped smartly out of the way again and the undead once more advanced.

It went a little better with an actual sword. The three undead were - if not dead - no longer capable of mauling the protagonist's throat. It wasn't good enough.

The protagonist crumbled to their knees, gasping in pain. They clutched the sword loosely in their hand. They touched a hand to their shoulder. Bloodied. Burdened with teeth marks. Their vision swam.

The stranger stopped in front of them, still smiling.

The great door rumbled with the force of bodies slamming against it, trying to get out. The protagonist very much doubted anyone in there was still alive in the traditional sense.

"This is fitting," the stranger said, gesturing at them. "I like this."

Dizzy, the protagonist lurched off their knees and lunged again, as clumsy as the undead had been. They certainly couldn't just wait to die.

The stranger merely stepped aside and let the protagonist stagger a step, before swiping their legs out from beneath them.

The protagonist hit the ground hard. The sword clattered out of their hand. The stranger plucked it up, tucking it neatly back into their holster.

"Who are you?" the protagonist managed. They began to push themselves up again.

"You woke me up. In the temple."

The protagonist swore quietly. "Yeah - about that -"

"-I thought the prophesied one would be a better fighter. Less willing to spill their magical blood. You are them, aren't you?"

"No."

The stranger laughed softly, delighted, and grabbed the back of the protagonist's neck, like scruffing a misbehaving kitten. "You're pathetic." They sounded entirely too endeared by this fact. "Come on." They dragged the protagonist bodily away from the cliff edge, past the bodies of the undead, back towards the terrible, terrible door.

The protagonist thrashed.

Predictably, it did no good. In fact, it did the precise opposite as they left blood in the dirt and the three bloody undead began to heal before their eyes.

The stranger deposited them with startling gentleness on their knees again. They stroked their fingers through the protagonist's hair, taking a moment to calm them, all soothing noises and shushing sounds. The other arm hooked around the protagonist's throat, cradling them securely against them. Trapped.

The two of them looked at the door.

The protagonist could still hear the undead behind it. They wailed and clawed - nothing like the figure behind them.

The other undead kneeled in a circle around them and the stranger. The protagonist didn't like the way they looked at the stranger - like they were everything, like they were god. It was far more lucid than they had been before. They looked less zombie-like too. More real.

"Don't do this," the protagonist said into the silence. "Please don't do this."

They already knew what would happen if they touched their blood to that door again.

"Our people are hungry," the stranger replied. "They have spent so long in the dark and the slumber, waiting for you. You can't abandon them now. We can't abandon them now."

The protagonist shook their head. They wanted to say something daring and clever, but there was a whimper caught in their windpipe.

"It's not so bad." The stranger held them a little tighter. "You're going to help them. They won't be quite so brain dead once they've had a bit of you. They won't slaughter everyone."

"Just most people?" It came out choked.

"Depends entirely on if most people are willing to accept my rule, my saviour."

"I'm not - I didn't - I didn't want any of this."

A week ago, they hadn't even known.

"I know," the stranger murmured. "I know you didn't. Children of fate rarely do. That's why their hands must be forced by destiny."

"My hands were forced by cultists."

The stranger shrugged. "Destiny takes many forms."

"You killed them. Let them-"

"-My people were very hungry. Who was I to deny them? Besides." The stranger bowed their head, so their lips brushed the top of the protagonist's head. "They hurt you."

"You hurt me. Your people-"

"I wouldn't have let them get too rough. I just wanted to see what you could do. I don't think anyone expected you to escape the temple and seal the doors again in the first place. Lucky I was around!"

Lucky was not the word that the protagonist would have used.

"Just reach out a hand," the stranger murmured. "And all this can be over. You will be a hero."

"To the undead."

"To what is yours. To what you belong to."

Maybe it made no difference in the grand scheme of apocalypse, but the protagonist didn't reach out a hand that time. They expected the stranger to bark out an order, for the undead to wrench their palm forward and bleed them like the cultists had. A lamb on an altar.

The silence stretched.

The stranger couldn't make them.

The realisation struck the protagonist heady, impossibly light-headed with hope. They didn't understand why, or how, or much of any of the horror. But if the stranger could make them, they would have already done so.

The protagonist laughed. Wild. Delirious. Their head tipped back against the stranger's chest.

"They suffer in there," the stranger said. Less amused. More quiet. "They are trapped. Help them."

"No."

"This is what you were made for. Promised for."

"Then maybe," the protagonist said, "destiny should have asked for my opinion first."

"Please," the stranger said, and the protagonist didn't know what to do with that. "Please."

It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. That begging wasn't how the story went, was it? Ancient evil didn't beg.

"No," the protagonist said, a little softer. "Sorry."

The stranger let go.

The protagonist crumbled, gasping, on the door stop.

"Then I suppose." The stranger stepped up to the door, pressing a longing hand against the stone. "We're doing this the hard way."

[nell0-0]

Could you possibly do a fic where the Chain meet Legend's cucco companion, Piyoko? I want to see their reactions to her :D

Sure thing! Sorry for the wait, but here it is ^^

Main characters: Legend, Four, Wild, Wind & Warriors (+Piyoko, of course!)

“Legend, don’t freak out, but don’t you dare move.”

…Not exactly the words one would like to hear first thing in the morning before coeherency made its appearance on his brain, but he would have to deal as usual, Legend figured. What went wrong now?

“…why” Legend said, voice thick with sleep and slightly slurred despite his best attempt.

Turning the other way and sleeping this problem away was so tempting. Problem he wasn’t aware of, mind you, because he could more or less glimpse everyone else around camp. Either sleepy, still snoring or staring at Legend with an intensity only deserved for a dangerous foe or-

“There’s a-“

Legend reached above his head, his hand colliding with something soft, a familiar texture greeting his cautious fingers.

“Wait, stop!”

“Goddesses, he’s doomed.”

“Legend, noooo!”

Grabbing whatever it was, a suspicious squeak as a result, Legend used his elbows to hold his weight while he looked at the cause of alarm for the three dumbasses in front of him.

“Pyo!”

…a cuccoo. Well, at least it wasn’t a tiny monster out for his blood. Even though that description adhered to cuccoos most days. Not to this one, chirping excitedly at seeing Legend’s messy face with dry drool still on the side of his mouth.

The others (just three of them, at least) had jumped back. He had expected the over the top reaction from the champion, who was wieling a soup ladle as if it was a weapon. Not so much from Wind who shouldn’t know what they were since he didn’t have them on his era and he hadn’t yet been attacked by an angry flock on this adventure. Definitely wasn’t expecting Four with a… cane? A magic cane.

A magic cane he hadn’t told Legend about. Darn it.

“Really, guys? First thing on the morning?”

“Why are you so calm about this?” Wind squinted at Legend, taking Wild’s soup ladle and poking at Legend’s face with the round edge. Wild shot Wind a betrayed look, who shrugged in response gesturing at Legend in a baffled manner.

Four’s eyes seemed to shimmer a myriad of colors, his face contorting awkwardly as if he couldn’t decide on whether he should laugh, get concerned or scold them all and go back to sleep.

“Guys, it’s okay, it’s just Piyoko.”

Holding the cuckoo, no longer the little chick she had been while on their adventures with Din’s troupe and the Nayru fiasco, Legend cooed. Wind poked at Legend again, bewildered. The look Piyoko threw the sailor was murderous, the poor kid backing off as if burnt and abandoning the wooden ladle to its uncertain fate. In retaliation, Wild flicked the kid on the forehead, quick to retrieve yet another soup ladle from his seemingly infinite supply on that slate of his.

Why soup ladles? Why not swords. Goddesses knew Wild never had enough of those with the rate he kept breaking them at.

Only Four seemed coherent enough to get them back on track from their usual shenanigans, despite being the less alert of the three.

“Piyoko?”

“Piyoko” Legend smirked. Four’s eyebrow twitched.

“And who’s Piyoko supposed to be? Aside from a cuccoo, I mean.”

“My cuccoo.” At the united front of three unimpressed heroes, Legend relented. “I’ve raised this mayhem bird from before she hatched from the egg.”

“What.”

How eloquent, Wind.

The commotion had seemed to catch Warriors’ attention. Or maybe he had been listening the whole time and Legend had just not noticed. Give him a break, he had just been rudely woken up without a good reason from his power nap after the second shift of the night watch. If he wanted to be grumpy or mad about that fact, he was well within his rights.

Either way, as usual, Legend thought while rolling his eyes out of habit, the war captain butted in the conversation.

“Is that a hero spirit thing, raising cuccoos?”

When Wild and Four shot him bewildered looks, probably questioning if Warriors also had a hidden cuccoo somewhere, Warriors was quick to deny it. Weird.

“If it is, then maybe that’s where Linkle gets it from.”

Legend stared at Wind uncomprehendingly. No way someone had named their daughter that, right? Right?

“Exactly my point.”

Okay, nevermind, apparently Linkle was a thing now, and both the captain and the sailor seemed to know her. How that was possible since, supposedly, none of them had met before this journey of nine heroes, was anyone’s guess. But neither asked about Ravio living in his house earlier that week, despite those two also impossibly knowing the scammer, so Legend wouldn’t ask about this either.

Four sighed, as if incredibly tired of this conversation already — Legend had been the one woken up, not Four, the nerve — he asked “and who’s Linkle?”

“My sister.”

Wild stared. “Your what.”

“You have a sister?”

“Not the point!” Warriors flushed, pointing at Legend. Trying to redirect the dumbass trio’s attention back to him, it seemed. That fucker. “Why are you asking me about my sister when Legend is still holding that cuccoo like nothing!”

Maybe if he was more awake, or if Legend wasn’t secretly elated that Piyoko had sneaked out to join him that day, he wouldn’t have said the next words. As it was, he was way too tired to care.

“To be fair” all eyes snapping in his direction, Legend grinned. “I threw Piyoko at Ganon.”

…

“Why did I never think of that.” Wild stared off at the morning sky, looking as if the world had opened new possibilities he hadn’t been aware of before. It was probably accurate, too.

Four just gaped at Legend, for once at a loss of words.

“She almost plucked an eye out. It was awesome.”

“Weaponized cuccoos.”

“Terrifying.” Wind may have said that, but the glint on his eye told another story.

Warriors took a step to the side, putting some distance between himself and the sailor, seemingly having an internal crisis.

Huffing, Legend dropped his weight on top of his bedroll again, Piyoko flapping her little wings before gently settling on top of his head. While the others woke up and those four got their shit together, Legend was sure he could manage to sleep another five minutes.

[manofthepipis]

battery acid pool party :D

bonus sneo under cut

he feels pretty :)

[arson-09]

Rhysta AU Where when nesta went to get feyre in acotar she made it through the wall but got caught by Rhysand…

So when Tamlin is taken by amarantha and feyre comes to save him, trials ensue but nesta makes a deal with rhysand to keep her safe (like actually safe. no sa bullshit) when feyre dies, gets revived and goes to live happily ever after with her man Nesta has to go the Night Court. Ensue the second book, a Court of Mist and Fury. The REAL enemies to lovers.

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 19: Confessions

Aether doesn't know much about fire or water courtship rituals. Ifrit's there to knock some sense into his head.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the divider

this one is a doozy, I wrote this in pretty much one sitting yesterday and it's like four pages? turns out i have a lot of dewther feelings. Contains some (resolved) miscommunication, water/fire hybrid Dew, the first time I've ever written Ifrit, and some of my fire ghoul lore

Aether is, admittedly, not used to other ghouls. Quintessence packs run small, a tight-knit family group at the largest. But this is something else. Ghouls of every element, even some hybrids, all of them mostly cooperating and coexisting as a larger pack than Aether's ever known. He spends a lot of his first few months close to Omega's side, seeking comfort in his fellow quintessence ghoul.

There's one ghoul, however, who's intrigued him from the moment he was pulled from the summoning circle. Quite literally too. There had been hands on his wrists, pulling. One had been Omega, hands that felt familiar even as a stranger. But then the other wrist, fingers almost dainty, barely able to wrap all the way around.

He had looked up, and if the summoning had knocked the breath from his now-corporeal lungs, Aether found it impossible to breathe.

There was a water ghoul standing above him, silver, pin-straight hair falling over his shoulders, almost obscuring the teal gills that line his neck. He's slight, and was staring with wide, bright blue eyes down at him, a hazy lavender coloring his cheeks.

Aether had swallowed hard, tried to shut his mouth because he knew he was staring. But the water ghoul was staring too, and Aether was helped to his feet by the others. Omega had asked his name, draped a purple, starry blanket around his wide shoulders, and with one more glance at the water ghoul, had lead him from the summoning chambers.

He sees him around the pack den, standing alongside a water ghoulette and a fire ghoul who's almost as broad as Aether himself. He learns his name is Dewdrop, that Mist is teaching him bass so he can go along with the Ghost Project to support the third Emeritus brother when they leave on tour again. He watches the way Dew's fingers fly over the fretboard, the way steam curls from his gills when he's stuck on something frustrating. Dew's beautiful, and Aether feels eyes on his back when he's pretending not to stare himself.

They dance around each other for weeks, sharing glances and brushed touches between the den and the practice room, the uniform fittings and Masses.

And then things start to change. Dew actually starts approaching him, asking to practice together, rhythm guitar and bass. Aether's a little too quick to agree, anything to spend a little more time with the little ghoul he's way too infatuated with.

Aether still remembers the first time Dew cornered him after practice, grabbing his hand and unfurling his fingers, intense eye contact as he pressed something hard and smooth into his palm, closing his fingers around it before darting off after Mist. The ghoulette had glanced between the two of them, a smile that was a little too smug and knowing for Aether's taste on her lips.

He looked down into his palm, finding a pretty piece of stone, so dark it's almost black, glittering with quartz all throughout, worn down smooth by water. Aether furrowed his brow, turning the pebble over in his fingers, before taking it back to his room, setting it on a shelf above his desk.

The pebble quickly became part of a collection, various colors and shapes decorating just about every surface in his bedroom. They're all beautiful, and Aether finds himself turning them over in his hands, wondering why Dew's only giving them to him, not sharing them with the rest of the pack.

This continues, even as the Ghost Project sets out to tour. Dew keeps giving him little gifts, pressing them into his hand. The first time they get to stay overnight at a hotel, instead of cramming themselves into tiny bunks on the bus, he and Dew are assigned together. Or maybe, Dew bat his lashes at Terzo and got him to reassign keys. If he did, Dew will never tell. Regardless, they head up the elevator together, bags slung over their shoulders.

Aether slips the keycard into the lock, pushing open the door to a room with two queen beds. Altogether, not a bad hotel room, but he's nearly dead on his feet after that night's Ritual.

"May I make you a nest, Aether?" Dew asks, setting his bag down on the hotel dresser, beginning to rifle through it for a clean set of clothes.

Aether yawns, jaw popping with the force of it. "That sounds great," he says earnestly. "How about I strip my bed and we use both sets of bedding? Make it extra comfortable."

Aether just barely catches the way Dew's eyes light up like neon signs at his words, and the little ghoul nods eagerly. "Go shower, and I'll get it taken care of."

"Thank you, waterlily," Aether says, unable to stop himself from tucking a strand of silver hair behind Dew's finned ear, watching fascinated as that lavender blush spills over the ridge of his nose, the sharp lines of his cheeks.

Aether rushes through his shower, exhaustion bone-deep. He doesn't know how Omega did it for so long. His body aches to flop down into a nest, and he's honestly excited to not have to sleep alone.

He gets out of the shower, roughly toweling off and changing in his haste. Aether steps out of the bathroom, the mirror foggy with steam, and watches curiously as Dew weaves sheets and blankets and pillows together methodically. Eventually, Dew seems satisfied with his work, curling up in the pile of bedding, patting the mattress next to him.

"Come on, big guy, get in here," he demands, but his finned tail is wagging behind him, mussing up the blankets.

He chuckles, climbing into the nest next to Dew, who's quick to curl up against his side, purring like a storm. It's very comfortable, and Aether's happy to have an armful of ghoul, the two of them quickly succumbing to sleep.

The habit keeps, Dew worming his way into Aether's bunk on the bus, insisting they're roomed together for each hotel night.

Dew gets clingier after they start sharing a bed. Aether's not complaining, not by any means, but Dew's always been a little aloof, a stoic little thing. He's close physically, but Aether can feel the way his friend is beginning to drift away mentally, even as they sleep pressed together from torso to tailtip.

It takes a couple of weeks before Ifrit raises an eyebrow as he takes note of their sleeping arrangements, the way Dew's plastered to Aether's side for what feels like every waking moment, every unconscious one too.

He pulls Aether aside backstage one night, and Aether goes willingly. "What's up, big guy?" he asks.

Ifrit scratches at his undercut, his shoulder length hair tied back so he can shove it into the balaclava later tonight. "Aeth. Aether. What do you know about fire ghoul courting rituals?"

Aether's brow furrows hard, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's a little out of nowhere," he sputters. "I mean, nothing, really. I mean, are you asking?"

Ifrit throws his head back in a laugh. "No, I'm not asking for myself, if that's what you're putting down. Me and Zeph are good, not looking for a third quite yet," he chuckles, clapping Aether's shoulder before his expression turns serious, a rare occurrence for the fire ghoul. "Okay, how about this. What do you know about water ghoul courting?"

"Courting?" He can feel the blush spilling across his cheeks as a face flashes in his mind out of his control. Silver hair, teal fins, bright blue eyes. Aether swallows hard, meeting Ifrit's expectant gaze. "Nothing. I barely met any water ghouls in the Pit, wasn't really in a position to learn that part of their culture."

Ifrit nods to himself, taking a deep breath through his nose. He settles both of his hands on Aether's shoulders, leveling him with a look. "Aether, I'm gonna be blunt and I need you not to freak out on me. Dew thinks you're courting him, and he's trying to court you back."

Aether's heart stops, trying to form words but just sputtering. "I didn't- I'm not- How?"

"He's not just water. He's a fire hybrid. I don't know too much about the water courting, but I'd be willing to bet he's been giving you stones?"

Aether blinks dumbly at him. "Yeah, he has. They're all over my room in the den."

"Yep, that'll be it, I think. But the part I know more about are fire rituals. Did he offer to make you a hearth?"

"Dew's never mentioned anything about a hearth, Frit," Aether says, feeling the warmth of his palms as they hold his shoulders still. "I don't know what that is."

"It's a courting nest, Aeth," Ifrit sighs again. "Did Dew offer to make you a nest?"

He blinks up at Ifrit, realization beginning to dawn on him. "He did."

"And you offered your bedding in response, didn't you?"

"I- I did. I offered to strip the other hotel bed to make a nest with," he says, suddenly finding the skin around his glamoured nails incredibly interesting.

"Aether, listen to me," Ifrit says, tipping Aether's chin up to make him make eye contact. "You need to talk to Dew. Tonight. Clear this all up. He's upset because, to him, you reciprocated his intent and now you're giving him the cold shoulder."

Aether opens his mouth to reply, but then there's a call of a half an hour until places. They glance at each other, nowhere near ready, panic filling both of their eyes. "Talk to him," Ifrit stresses as they part, scrambling to the dressing room.

The Ritual, all things considered, goes fine. Aether knows that Dew knows he's looking at him, sees the glint of blue eyes behind the silver mask that obscures the rest of his features. He can't look away. Aether hits his marks, plays his part, but he's staring at Dew, with everything Ifrit told him swirling though his mind like his quintessence.

They step off stage, the ghouls all filing back to the dressing room, sweaty and exhausted. "Dew," Aether says, just loud enough to be heard. The water ghoul whips back, eyes shining through his mask.

"Aether?"

He takes a deep breath through his nose, trying to steel himself. It smells like metal, the mask humid with his breath even through the balaclava. "I need to talk to you. Could we find somewhere quiet?"

Dew blinks, the rest of his expression hidden, but Aether, in tune with these kinds of things, can almost smell the apprehension. "Sure. What about?"

"Just-" Aether stops himself. "Not here, come with me?" He holds out his hand, still so strange looking under human skin. Dew's chest heaves as he breathes, considering, before placing his hand in Aether's.

Aether finds an empty room, dark and quiet, herding Dew inside before shutting the door behind them. He finds the light switch, old fluorescents flickering to life. Aether reaches up, grabbing the chin of his mask and pulling it up and off of his head, shoving his balaclava down.

Dew's quick to follow, and once his face is revealed, Aether gets a good look at the almost nervous expression written there, on the most beautiful ghoul he's ever seen, even soaking wet and ruffled. Locks of silver hair stick to his forehead with sweat, and he aches to reach out to tuck them back in place. "Aether?"

His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath, stepping heavily into Dew's space, guiding him to stumble quickly backward until his back hits the wall. Dew's expression hardens, but Aether can taste the undercurrent of fear of being cornered by a much bigger ghoul, caged in by his big arms.

"Hey, Dewdrop," he whispers, voice as gentle as he can make it. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Dew's brow furrows, staring up at him. "You didn't know wh- umph!"

He gets cut off by Aether's mouth on his, the bigger ghoul lunging down to catch Dew's lips in a desperate, hungry kiss. The smaller ghoul squawks in surprise, before melting completely into it. His arms come up and wrap around his neck, clinging to him, human nails digging into his shoulders even through the cassock.

They part, vessels aching for air, eyes wide as they stare at each other. Dew starts laughing incredulously, narrow chest heaving. "You're fucking kidding, Aether, thought you were leading me on."

Aether leans in, pressing his forehead to Dew's. "I didn't know you were trying to court me. I didn't know I had accepted a hearth."

"I mean," Dew stammers, that lilac blush flooding his cheeks again. "If you didn't actually want me to court you, you can forget it happened, I can-"

"Dewdrop," Aether whispers, taking the point of his chin carefully in his fingers, making him meet his gaze. "What about the last five minutes says I don't want this?"

He shrugs, still pinned to the wall. Instead of answering, Dew tangles his spindly fingers in his mohawk, pulling him down into another kiss. And Aether is happy to indulge him.