#aether whump

[contentloadingandstuff]

Aether Whump | Things Money Can Buy - Intro

A/N: Yup, the series is back - sort of. I'm going to be remaking what's here already to make it an actual story instead of just random whumpy scenes. CW: Canon violence.

Honed blades clash, sending a handful of blue sparks flying. Growling, Kunikuzuchi withdraws his blade and brings it down with double the force, just for his weapon to be stopped by Aether’s sword, held firmly in his experienced hands. The Traveler pushes forward, forcing his opponent to take a step back under his relentless pressure. The katana is raised just in time to stop a follow up blow, but the sheer force bends his whole body backwards. 

Scaramouche doesn't have time to ready his own attack as Aether maintains the pressure, delivering blow after blow to his opponent. Each clash creates dents in his blade, the white iron chips flying every time he barely manages to block. 

“Worthless… weapon…!” The puppet speaks, grinding his teeth as he strains with each blow. An attempt to stab the human is foiled with an efficient parry, sending him back on the defensive. 

“Not used to fighting, are you?” His golden eyes are filled with grim determination. “Or risking your own skin in the first place, huh?”

At last his katana reaches the end of its rope and Aether's next strike cuts it clean in half, the end of his blade slashing through Scaramouche's chest. He stumbles backwards, clumsily raising his iron bracer to stop the next strike. No blood from the cut stains the dusty boards or the Delusion factory. 

The warrior mind of his opponent remains unphased at this, instantly winding another strike. Scaramouche throws out his hands, summoning bolts of Electro with all of his might. His opponent is stopped in his tracks, forced to stand his ground and block the attack with a rapidly deployed Geo shield. He shoots another bolt but as he does so, the shield explodes into jagged, yellow shards of rock. They strike his vessel, embedding into his shoulder and offsetting the lightning to harmlessly strike the floor. Wasting no time, the enemy charges forwards and strikes true. 

The Harbinger’s arm clutters to the ground amongst servos and gears. Wires short out in the wound, shooting sparks out of the wound. He falls to his knees, dazed, clutching the removed part of his mechanical body. 

Seeing his opponent unarmed in both meanings of the word, Aether takes a step back. He uses the tip of his weapon to slide the katana’s remnants away from Scaramouche. 

“Hah. It seems like you're not only figuratively heartless.” 

Unflinching, Kunikuzuchi looks up at his enemy, his mouth a snarling grimace. 

“Whatever you are, you'll pay. You'll pay for the war.” He points his sword at Scaramouche’s throat. “Tens of thousands dead, just so you Fatui could lay your hands on the Gnosis. But no more.”

There is no inkling of neither hesitation nor mercy in his eyes - only stone cold resolve. Scaramouche’s expression softens. In the silence of the room he can feel a pulse in his chest. 

His hand clutches over the wound. He has been destroyed, defeated. He is left kneeling before his enemy like never before. It is over. 

Scaramouche feels his throat tighten in fear as he awaits death. 

But Aether stands still. In the corner of his eye, Behind the man, Scaramouche sees a splash of red on the wooden backdrop. He focuses and sure enough, he spots a handful of Skirmishers looking on from a balcony above them. 

Useless minions, he thinks, but his thoughts are stopped dead in their tracks as he spots a rifle trained straight at Aether. 

Scaramouche's eyes shoot open. Maybe they aren't so useless after all. 

Noticing this, the Traveler turns his head only to be welcomed with a loud gunshot.

He spins around, instantly summoning a shield to defend himself. Scaramouche summons Electro in his remaining hand and slashes across his would-be killer's shins. Aether screams out as the energy burns through his trousers and into his exposed flesh. He falls forward, the puppet using this opportunity to get back to his feet. Feeling the anger and hate boil inside him, he outstretches his arm and summons a shockwave, sending the momentarily unbalanced Aether flying at the wall. Barreling through various shelves and crates, his body smashes against the stone wall with a dull thud, sword cluttering to the ground. 

Kunikuzuchi smiles. He curls his fingers, lifting Aether into the air and slamming him into the debris-ridden floor. As he impacts a small cloud of dust arises from the broken furniture. Aether is picked up again and thrown to the side, his face meeting the cold stone of a fireplace. 

“You should not have returned here, you fool. Just destroying our plan wasn't enough for you, so you thought - the audacity! - that you could capture me too?” Scaramouche dusts his knees off, gazing smugly at the human, slowly raising to his feet. Before he can stabilize himself though he is raised up again and tossed like a ragdoll to the opposite end of the room. “And then you don't even kill me when you have the chance. You're a mockery.”

Aether grunts. Scaramouche observes as he drags himself to his knees and coughs out a bloodstained tooth. His eyes flicker with excitement. 

Adrenaline rushing through his body, Scaramouche steps forward using his powers to pick his defenseless opponent up yet again. With a satisfied groan, he gestures downwards with his whole arm, sending Aether crashing against the ground. Then, Scaramouche repeats. Then again. And again. 

With each gesture of his hand and each painful impact, Aether groans in pain. His cries become quieter and quieter as the deceptively hard floor stains with more and more blood. When Scaramouche can hear the pained sounds no more, he finally releases the human from his grip, letting him fall to the floor. 

As the Traveler moans weakly, Scaramouche laughs to himself. “Pathetic.”

Aether clutches his stomach, coughing as the Fatui approaches him. Every now and then a few new droplets of blood stain the floorboards. Using his foot, Scaramouche turns his enemy over onto his back. He aims his leg and stomps onto his stomach, sending him into a coughing fit. 

“I would gladly end your misery here, if only you weren't such a nuisance, Traveler.” The man tries to turn his head to look up at him, but is forced into place with Kunikuzuchi’s sandal on his head. 

Aether spits, sending him a look of defiance.

“You'll pay”, he speaks with a mocking voice. 

With a kick to the head, Aether's world is plunged into darkness. 

Scaramouche takes a step back, admiring the battered body of his opponent. He turns sharply towards his saviors. 

“What are you waiting for, morons? Tie him up. We'll take ‘the Traveler’ on a really memorable journey.”

Thanks for reading!

[farter-imperator]

Ghost BC Whump Month is back!

That's right. 30 days of hurt with no (or very little) comfort!

For Whump Month, you can use any characters you want in the Ghost universe, including OCs. You can use platonic relationships, you can use romantic relationships, you can use relationships where both characters hate each other, you can use relationships where neither characters have met!

Starting on the first of June 2024, you can write, you can draw, and you can create in any way you want for these prompts.

If you do create anything, please tag me in it! I wanna see your work! I'll reblog any Whump Month creations.

Of course, make sure your creations are CWed appropriately, and then make sure you tag 'Whump Month 2024', so that everything can be found easily!

Have fun!

[ashthewaterghoul]

I Know For The Last Time You Will Not Be Mine So Give Me The Night - An Alternative Ending

     At some point, Dew felt a faint light licking against his eyelids. Did he fall asleep? Was it morning already? Though curiously, he still felt the back of Phantom’s shoulders pressed against his face. He reluctantly cracked an eye open, and instantly regretted it.     The light was coming from Phantom’s horns. Their stars and galaxies giving a final burst of energy, one last ditch attempt at waking up. But they never would. Or, What would have been the ending to Ch22 of Even The Brightest Stars Burn Out if I decided to be mean. Pretty sure this could honestly be read without the context of the fic but notes have a tldr.

Words: 1.5k

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Aether & Phantom, Dew/Phantom, Phantom & everyone

Tags: Death, alternative ending, angst, whump, Dewdrop needs a hug, referenced su!c!de attempt, funerals, Aether & Phantom are siblings, they/them pronouns for Phantom, idk how to tag this please send help.

A/n: Context! Phantom and Aether are siblings and Phantom got summoned to a pool of Aether's blood. Angst and shit ensues until Phantom decides to commit suicide. Dew gets there to talk them down, but not before the dagger they were going to use falls and slices their chest open. That and magic made it so they didn't wake up and were put in a coma. In ch22 we see the pack struggling and loosing hope, but Phantom wakes up! In this ending though, they decidedly… don't

~~~

    When the doctors came that dreadful evening, the pack all piled on top of Phantom, making sure they weren’t alone and surrounded by love. Copia had given Phantom the Ghoul equivalent of the last rites, and the pack had followed the Ghoulish tradition of preparing a body for death with some alterations considering they were away from their native dimension. They had washed Phantom’s body with various oils and herbs, each bearing a prayer, and finished by burning incense and using the ashes to draw various protection runes for Phantom’s journey into the Beyond. They had done the same for Aether, not getting the opportunity with Sunshine. Seeing the little Bat bearing the same marks their brother had just months prior twisted all their souls even more than they already had been. The universe really was a heartless bitch at times. The pack had put Phantom in their favourite pyjamas (Swiss’ joggers and one of Aether’s t-shirts) and Cumulus had made their curls look so healthy, you wouldn’t think anything was wrong.

    The doctors removed everything but the breathing tube, allowing the pack some final moments. It was weirdly quiet without the beeping of the monitors they had all become accustomed to. Phantom had looked so small amongst all the wires and tubes they had been connected to, yet they somehow looked even smaller now without it.

    All said their goodbyes privately, one at a time, then together took positions on Phantom’s nest. Phantom was rolled partially on their side so their head rested on Cumulus’ chest as that was how they always cuddled, Mountain sat against the headboard with them both against his own chest. Rain curled up by their feet while Swiss and Aurora rested their heads on Phantom’s leg. Cirrus shimmied herself between Cumulus and Rain, her head on their stomach, and Dew curled up around the back of Phantom.

    The bat plushie was in their arms, and one of Aether’s horns was in each hand.

Read below the cut or on ao3!

    The doctor turned off the respirator, removed the breathing tube and immediately left the room, shutting the door behind her.

    All the Ghouls shut their eyes, not wanting to see their horns fall away. The magic in the dagger was what made Aether and Sunny’s bodies disappear, so they also shut their eyes so they didn’t have to see it happen to Phantom if they disappeared too. All stayed silent as they cried, and waited for the last crackle of air to leave Phantom’s lungs, for their heart to stop beating, and for the stars in their horns to burn out with their soul.

    Dew, Cirrus and Cumulus would be the first to hear them go, and were entwining their tails, providing some comfort for what was to come. Silently, they all prayed that Phantom would come back. That their breathing would pick up and they would wake. But Satan hadn’t listened thus far, why would he listen now?

     At some point, Dew felt a faint light licking against his eyelids. Did he fall asleep? Was it morning already? Though curiously, he still felt the back of Phantom’s shoulders pressed against his face. He reluctantly cracked an eye open, and instantly regretted it.

    The light was coming from Phantom’s horns. Their stars and galaxies giving a final burst of energy, one last ditch attempt at waking up. But they never would.

    The last crackle of air left Phantom’s lungs. Dew, Cirrus and Cumulus felt those last heartbeats, so incredibly strong that they dared to think maybe it would be okay. But the last beat thumped, that last thread snapped, and none came after.

    Dew choked on a sob. Cumulus followed after the small clank of their horns falling away and out of their skull. And then everyone joined as Phantom’s body disappeared.

    As the Bug they were all clinging to - almost trying to follow them - faded away, they ended up holding each other instead. The horns fell to the middle of their pile, in a spot where the Ghoul themself was no longer. All of them watched as the stars and galaxy gave their last shine, and burn out into dormancy, just like Aether’s had.

    The bat plushie now had both of the brothers’ horns resting against its plush wings. Dew allowed himself a small comfort that the Bat themself was indeed with their brother again, and free from their pain.

    Although they had left the pack in a whole cosmos of it.

~~~

‘Phantom Luceat’

‘May your pain end, and your soul

paint the brightest stars in our skies.’

    It was engraved onto a stone that Dew and Rain had retrieved from the depths of the river. On it, Swiss and Aurora had combined their Earth affinities to etch the text alongside wisteria, carnations and baby’s breath, Mountain taking over when it got too much for them.

    It felt like a sickening Déjà vu as the pack walked up the hill again, to the lake, and to the second Dogwood tree Mountain had planted, grown and moved. Not to mention also feature a memorial stone for a Luceat at the base.

    They all had violet candles, carved with bats, and wore solemn expressions. Once again, they all said a few words for the little bat. Cumulus for the fourth kit she’d lost, Cirrus for her sibling, Swiss, Aurora and Rain for their partner, Copia for the third Ghoul lost in such a short time, and Dew and Mountain for the little bug who meant much more to them than words could describe.

    They built another pyre and Dew and Swiss used their affinities and the flames of the candles to light it. There wasn’t a lot any of them could throw in as Phantom had been topside for just months, Aether had been here for years. But they all found something. Copia burned the dagger once and for all, not caring for if the Clergy would chew his head off for destroying something so important for their rituals.

    All the pack and Copia stayed there until the pyre had finished burning and said the prayers to protect Phantom’s soul in the Beyond.

    Slowly, everyone filtered back inside. But Dew stayed, staring at the ashes and wishing he was part of it. He had begged to be taken instead of Phantom, and once again, he couldn’t get what he wanted.

    He lit a cigarette and tears pricked his eyes when the brief memory of him offering one to Phantom popped up. It was stupid, and Dew didn’t even know if they smoked, but he felt like he had to do something. As Dew took puffs of the cig, he had to wonder what if Phantom said yes? Would anything had changed? It felt like millions of what ifs ran through the Fire Ghoul’s head, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t cause him a bit of a migraine.

    Phantom was only 24 years old; Dew was 33. He’d lived as good a life as he would get by now, his birth family gone and his chosen family in a constant cycle of slowly disappearing. He’d seen the world that so few Ghouls get to see and can’t see or do much more that he hadn’t already been through. It should have been him.

    Dew reached into his pocket, and pulled out the several gemstones that he retrieved for Phantom. They clinked together in his palm and his heart hurt at the sight of them. His hand shook from the cold and his cries as he knelt on the edge of the lake. The other hand reached out and melted the ice. Dew sobbed as he returned the crystals to the water they came from.

    As was tradition for Water Ghouls, what could be returned to her, should be. It was a death tradition for a Water Ghoul’s horns to be put back into the Ghoul’s home waters, allowed to sink to the bottom and be with her in eternal rest and embrace. Dew also knew from Aether that the notion of life being a cycle - everything in it being its own cycle, knowing that everything returning home in the end - is incredibly important to Quintessence Ghouls. It almost felt like a meeting of their elemental traditions.

    Dew had hoped that one day, he would be able to combine them by making his nest nice and neat and pristine so Phantom can rest easy in his safe-space, only wanting to be his best for them. He would fill the nest with comforts for them both to share, grab Aether’s old star projector so they could have a mimicry of laying under the stars that had exploded at the perfect times for them to meet. He would've used the courting traditions to ask Phantom to be his.

    Omega had once told Aether “Fuck the Fates” and Dew could quite honestly say that would be his next tattoo. The Fates were cruel, life was cruel, the universe was cruel. Phantom was too young for all they went through, and they absolutely should not have died.

    It happened to Omega, then Aether, and now Phantom. So, Dew cried as he was forced to realise that, in the end, even the brightest stars burn out.

Go read the main fic on ao3! One shot master post can be found here

[moldycantaloupe]

Trying to get back into writing, and decided to go with @cirrus-ghoulette 's whump month prompt, "Religious Trauma" to help me out! This is the Holy Dew Au created by @littlemoon-beam , and I recommend reading it; it's very good, and I hope I did you right in this!

He still shakes in fear of the memories that taunt him, his scars burn, phantom wings struggle to work. He wails when his mind is unforgiving, images of His betrayal plague him to his core. He still yearns for his Grace, yearns for his life before, but no amount of prayer could possibly make Him forgive again.

Aether finds him in the old chapel just past the forest’s border, one abandoned time ago by a congregation long past. He finds Dew at the altar, kneeled below the intricate stained glass, moonlight casting beautiful colors on the angel. His head is bowed and Aether knows he’s clutching onto a rosary, fingers rubbing against the beads and whispering his prayers.

He would find this endearing, beautiful even, but the further into the church he goes, the further he frowns. Dew pays his presence no mind, as if he can’t feel him. The closer he gets, the more he can make out under the colorful light; his body shakes, voice breathy but strained, pleads in his words. Aether crouches next to the creature. He doesn’t dare lay a hand on his angel, but he worries.

“Aingeal,” he whispers softly. Dew stops his speaking, and Aether can further see into his descent; tears run down his pale cheeks, lip bitten bloody and raw, fingers tangled into his prayer beads, rubbing them in soothing notions.

“I,” he takes in a shaky breath and faces away from Aether, “I apologize. I do not wish for you to see me this way.”

“We are mates, Aingeal.” Aether lifts his hand and gently tucks the loose strands of gold behind his ear. “I vowed to protect you. What troubles you?”

That breaks the dam. Dew folds further into himself until his head hits the stone and lets out a sob, one that rings against the tall walls of the chapel.

“I do not know what I did,” he shakes his head and his hair falls further to the ground, “I do not know why He created me with sin in mind. Why would He do this?”

Aether sets a firm hand against his clothed back and rubs soothing circles, pumping small doses of quintessence into the small angel. Dew shakes further as he feels the magic rush through him.

“He is a cruel one.” Aether looks up to the stained glass; an image of Mary holding her newborn son towards the Heavens. “You did no wrong. He creates not love, but hate.”

Aether bends down to see his angel, and those molten eyes rimmed in red and tears meet his own.

“But you defy Him, Dewdrop. You are love.”

Dew breaks into another sob, and Aether pulls him into his lap. The angel, with his rosary still in hand, claws at his back and nuzzles his face into the quint’s neck, desperate for his contact. Aether holds him close and tight, rocking the two back and forth as Dew slowly calms and sags in his hold.

“Let’s go back home, yes?” Aether smiles down at him and kisses the top of his head.

“Home.” Dew repeats with a nod. “Please, Aether. Take me home.”

With little struggle, Aether gets to his feet with an angel still wrapped around his waist, and begins to walk towards the opening of the chapel. Dew stares at the stained glass as it gets further away; Mary, holding her newborn son towards the heavens. She looks mournful, her son’s demise already planned. Dew feels empathy for the new mother as Aether closes the doors.

[scarecrow-collective]

Fuck it along side the other shit I'm doing imma do whump month so here's day one!!

(whump month was brought to you by the lovely @cirrus-ghoulette go show them some love!!)

Day one; Burn. (Cw/tw; Burning, fire, heavy injury, angst, Infirmary visits)

Characters-Aeon(main focus), Aether and Omega mentioned, siblings of sins mentioned.

Aeon wasn't always scarred, he had a full face and could see out of both eyes when he was first summoned. He was beautiful with porcelain skin that shined in the light whenever he laughed or smiled, his eyes crinkled with every movement or whenever he spoke.

To say the least he was gorgeous, but all of that changed one day as what would come to be known as the incident happened. The day started off as normal, Aeon was up early and was ready to start his chores as usual, nothing out of the ordinary.

Aeon had caught wind from the other ghouls that there was going to be a big campfire later that night, and of course he wanted to go. A campfire with all of his friends? That's an opportunity he couldn't pass up, so once all of his chores were finished and his room was cleaned and cleared up he made his way down to the area where it was being held.

The area was lively and filled with happiness, siblings and ghouls huddled around and were chatting away as the fire crackled and smoked in the distance. To the new ghoul all of this was exciting, he wanted to go feel the heat up close and feel the warmth wrap around him.

Aeon made his way over and curiously looked at it, eyes filled with curiosity and excitement as he watched the flames dance in the wind. A few siblings were crowded around the pit near him as they giggled and yelled with beer in their hands, Aeon hated the taste of beer so he steered clear of the drinks.

Aeon ignored the siblings entirely as he kept his eyes on the flames, he pictured a dancing lady within the beauty of it and that made him admire it more. The siblings near him began to get rowdy and they giggled and joked, clearly not seeing the young ghoul near them.

With a particularly harsh thrust the sibling dropped their beer into the flames below causing it to rore up and expand into the air, unfortunately for Aeon he was in the path of the flames as it wrapped around his face and burned him.

Aeon screamed in pain as he bolted back and covered his face, crying out in pain as he yelled out for anyone to help him. Ghouls crowded around him to check his safety as they looked him up and down, Aether pushed the others out of the way to scoop the young ghouls into his arms to carry him into the infirmary.

Once there, Aeon was set onto a bed as Aether and Omega moved to check his wounds out, they dosed him full of quintessence as they wrapped a bandage around his wound to close it off. A heavy sigh left Aether as he mumbled to himself, petting Aeon's head.

The young ghoul writhed in pain as he groaned and moaned, heavy pants leaving his mouth as he cried out in pain. Throughout the night Aether and Omega dosed him up to ease the pain of the new found wound on his face.

Weeks came to pass the wound turned into a scar and Aeon's porcelain skin turned red and irritated, he would no longer smile as bright without wincing in pain and to him he no longer looked beautiful. In his own eyes he was horrible and no longer looked beautiful, he hated the scar despite what everyone told him. In his mind he was ruined, now Aeon no longer likes campfires.

[anonymouslymadebydesign]

Whump Month, Day 2 : Hiding an illness / injury

Whump Month by @cirrus-ghoulette 💕

CW : Mentions of throwing up / actively being sick. Slight hint as self isolation.

Summary : Phantom can't keep anything down and keeps it to himself rather than seeking help.

Word Count : 789

Being Topside was strange, to put it lightly. Everything about this strange place and its demands always made Phantom feel...out of place. Ostracized, if he could put a word that closely resembled the hollowed feeling in his chest.

The worst part, decidedly, was having a corporeal body. In Hell, and its endless vastness, he didn't need a body. Quintessential ghouls were more akin to spirits, ebbing and flowing, traveling where ever they pleased. Being summoned to different locations in Hell was as simple as breathing, but to be summoned to Earth?

It was like shoving the universe and its infinite vastness into a compact cube.

The first few weeks were fine, rocky, but fine. So many changes going on at once, so many things to get used to, so many eyes to try and decipher if that glint was hate or worry; Phantom couldn't tell.

What he could tell was that it probably wasn't a good thing his head was halfway down his bathroom toilet. Dinner just wrapped up, the sun slowly setting behind the Abbey, saying its goodbyes like the contents of his stomach. It's been like this for a few days down, and his body was not enjoying a minute of it, his eyes sunken and tired from constantly being sick.

"Phantom?" There was a voice at his door. From where he was he couldn't quite tell who it was.

"Ah...hold on!" He shouted from his bathroom, flushing his dinner and rinsing his mouth out with sink water before going to the door. Before opening it, he smoothed down his shirt and ran a hand through his hair; a lame attempt at looking put together.

When he finally opened the door, he was face to face with Rain. He liked Rain, the water ghoul was sweet and welcoming, one of the few who seemed to welcome him to the world and to the pack with open arms.

"Were you...throwing up?" Rain asked, blunt but hesitant, a clear line of worry on his face.

"No." Phantom shook his head, purposely keeping his eyes wide and round, open, innocent. Lying. He tilted his head slightly, his tail swaying slightly as if he were relaxed.

Rain gave him a little frown, as if he didn't believe the little quint.

"Are you sure?" Was the question.

A laugh, followed by; "I would remember if I tossed tonight's dinner."

Rain relaxed a little, barely, his shoulders slouching. "If you're ever feeling ill, I don't know if anyone's told you, but we have a Ghoul Infirmary. It's ran by Omega and Aether, they'll always be there to help and heal."

Aether. The name tasted like iron in Phantoms mouth. While he was new to the surface and still was learning about the world and everything it offers, he wasn't dumb. He was smart enough to know that his current...'pack'...was upset that their previous member, Aether, decided to stay behind.

"Of course." Phantom smiled, his signature goofy smile, all teeth. He was fine. He was fine, goddammit, so leave it alone. Leave it the FUCK ALONE-

"We love you." Came Rains voice, cutting through his thoughts.

"Thank you, Rain." Phantom smiled, a little more genuine, visibly relaxing. This seemed to satiate Rain enough, as he patted the quint on the shoulder and waved as he walked down the hallway.

Phantom sighed, closing his door and locking it, moving to his bed to sit down. He wasn't sure what was wrong with his body. He was hungry, that was for sure, as the hunger pains in his stomach were currently screaming for his attention, to be satiated.

But he knew that every time he attempted to get something down, within the hour his body decided that that was a bad idea, and had him back at square one, with his head halfway down the toilet.

Deciding that he wasn't willing to go back out, not wanting to see the look of distain or disgust in his packmates, he curled back up into his bed.

No one had to know. It was probably a weird strange sickness that would go away on its own, right? Right. Of course, it was just a passing phase, nothing more.

No one needed to know how in the dead of night, he hurled his body out of bed, scrambling on all fours to get to his bathroom, throwing up the very little remains of his stomach.

No one needed to know how the burn of stomach acid in his throat and mouth had him crying into the bowl, sobbing as his body dry heaved against his will.

No one needed to know how incredibly lightheaded it made him either.

No one needed to know, goddammit.

[shaykesqueer]

Whump Month '24 Day Fourteen: "It Hurts"

And what if Aether was some kind of panther man? And on the full moon he gets a little too violent so… precautions need to be taken. He can get a little mean. And maybe a little manipulative~

Thank you @cirrus-ghoulette for organising Whump Month! Prompts here <3

Side Note! I'm going to be taking a break for a few days because I'm getting a little overwhelmed and I've caught up with myself with the prompts. I'm still going to do all of them because I'm really enjoying it, but they'll just be a few days out when I come back!

Instagram | Pillowfort | Tips | Patreon Coming Soon!

[raindrop-21]

Day thirteen of @cirrus-ghoulette 's whump month: Misunderstanding

This is heavily based off of a conversation I had with @thatfuckinjester forever ago

I listened to this while writing this sp you may want to listen to it while reading

Cw: water dewdrop, ace dewdrop, sexual themes

Dew had finally worked up the courage to ask Aether to have sex with him. It took a lot of mental and physical preparation to get to this point. Dew was nervous and a bit excited. But now that he's lying next to Aether, watching as he sleeps, he feels wrong. He came, he did, but he didn't enjoy it.

He loved being close to Aether, but he doesn't feel as though he just took a step forward into exploring his own sexuality. He feels like he's taken ten steps back. He feels sick, but not like he's going to throw up. He doesn't like it. He was told how great sex is, especially for water ghouls like himself, how impossibly wet they get, how they act like a bitch in heat even if they're not in heat.

Dew wasn't like that, but Aether didn't comment on it. What if Aether was disappointed that Dew didn't react “correctly”? Dew can't take the turmoil in his head so he slips out of the bed, dresses himself, and leaves. He limps a bit, but he doesn't care. He needs to get away.

The next day he avoids Aether at all costs. He feels bad, he does. He sees the pained look on Aether's face, it's killing him, but there's something wrong with him. He didn't feel good after sex, he doesn't feel good thinking about sex, he didn't feel good during sex. Everything he “should've” felt, he didn't.

He's driven himself into anxiety attacks with his own thoughts. He wonders if Aether is telling his pack about how “bad” he was when they had sex, how quiet he was, just anything he can think of that can be seen as negative. He wonders if he should try again, apologize to Aether, ask for a second try. A chance to feel what he's “supposed” to feel.

He walks into Aether's room unannounced, and shuts and locks the door behind him. He walks up to Aether, sits on his lap, and starts to kiss him. Kissing Aether feels good.

“Aeth.. M'sorry for ignoring you…” Dew mumbles between kisses as he starts unbuttoning Aether's shirt.

Aether is bewildered, but kisses him back, “It's fine, Droplet…. You probably… Felt some… Big emotions… Afterwards.”

They get through the foreplay, Dew was dominant during a lot of it which confused Aether, but Aether let it happen. Dew felt good when he jerked off Aether, he felt good getting jerked off, he felt good fingering himself. He gets ready to sit on Aether's dick and that feeling of nausea returns. He gets half of Aether inside of him before he can't do it anymore. He wraps his arms around Aether's neck and buries his head in the crook of his neck.

“I'm sorry… Aeth… I can't… I don't like it… It doesn't feel good…” He mumbles between hiccups.

When Aether looks down he sees that Dew's dick has gone soft and limp as he feels the tears drop onto his shoulder. He pulls out of Dew and hugs him.

“What's wrong, Droplet? Why don't you like it?” He has a hunch as to why Dew may not like it, but he wants to hear it from the water ghoul himself.

“I-I dunno… I just don't like it… I like touching you and being touched… I just don't like going all the way… I'm sorry I'm bad at this… I'm sorry there's something wrong with me…”

Ah, there it is, Aether isn't the right person to explain this to him.

“Droplet, can you get dressed for me? I'm gonna take you to talk to Zephyr.”

Dew begrudgingly gets up and dresses himself. He doesn't know why he has to talk to Zephyr. He doesn't really want to, but he trusts Aether.

Zephyr, one of the very, very, few Asexual ghouls. The ghoul who made Dew comfortable with himself.

[artemisjpotter]

4.7 SPOILERS

—————————————————————————

I am so mad we were robbed of seeing Dainsleif get the shit beaten out of him by the Abyss twin. I need the whump, and you failed to delivered 😭 😭 😭

[contentloadingandstuff]

Things Money Can Buy - I

CW: Nudity, beating, swearing.

The next day Aether woke up outside of his little cell. 

On feeling the chains strain on his wrists, his head shot up. He was blindfolded again, and naked. Completely naked. He thrashed around, trying to loosen his constraints. 

"Oh? Up so soon?" 

He looked in the direction of the voice. He heard footsteps approaching, and soon the fabric covering his eyes was removed. He squinted his eyes shut at the intense abundance of warm light. Before him stood a man dressed in an unassuming robe, plain in fashion and gray in color. His features were delicate, with sharp, brown eyes hiding behind his glasses. He held a clipboard, although Aether could not see its content. 

"Then let's begin." The man looked at Aether coldly, yet a hint of amusement could be found in his expression. "I will ask you a question, and you will answer. Or else this gentleman will encourage you to speak up. Are we clear?" 

Aether scoffed, and looked the man straight in his eyes. "Depends on what you ask." 

"How bold of you to name conditions here." The man set down his clipboard on a nearby old, wooden table. He then turned back to Aether and spoke, accenting the r again. "Your name. What is it?" 

"It's none of your business." He narrowed his eyes. "Only my friends get to hear it."

"It is, Traveler. I've heard everyone call you that, but never have I heard anyone use your name." The interrogator approached the bound man, his face right up in his victim's. "I'm just curious."

Aether weighed his options. As much as telling the man his name would harm his pride, there would be nothing to gain from resisting. Because more questions, questions that he couldn't answer at any cost, would surely come. He sighed. 

"My name is… Aether."

His captor only smiled, and nodded approvingly. "Aether… that's a nice name. It would be a real shame for your friends to see it engraved on a tombstone, yes?" 

"And that's the difference between us." Aether never once took his eyes off of him. They glimmered with a spark of loathing. "Somebody will actually miss me."

"Us?" He laughed. "There is no us. We are not equal."

"Pfft. How so?" 

"You are nothing but 'material' here. I will extract information from you, however many broken bones and buckets of blood it will require." He grabbed Aether's hair tightly. "You are the instrument, I am the musician. Do not forget that."

Aether tightened his jaw, preventing himself from responding. Still, despite his anger and desire to bite back, sweat started gathering on his forehead. 

"First question." His captor spoke with a calmer, yet even more decisive voice. "On your travels in Liyue, you have ascended to the Jade Chamber. Correct?" 

"May have." It looks like the ransom is just a bonus for them, thought Aether.

"I know that getting there requires a password. I have intelligence confirming that you got there the normal way. Hence, you know the password." The man looked at Aether, eyes steady and determined underneath his glasses. "What is the password?"

Aether laughed. "I won't speak. That's gonna take more effort than just that, pal."

"As you wish." The man nodded to his underling. "Pull him up and give me ten."

While his interrogator tied the blindfold back on, a mechanism in the corner of the room creaked. Aether was slowly being lifted up by his arms, joints straining from the very first second since his feet lost support. The blonde's hands managed to grasp the chain and ease his discomfort a little. He heard the sound of wood dragging on the ground, a plank or rod by the sound of it. Aether's heart sped up, and he braced himself for what was about to come.

He winced when the first hit came crashing down on his back. The force made his body rock forward, right into the other blow, this time placed on his tailbone. The pain surged but he didn't have much time to dwell on it as more hits came. On his middle back, on his upper torso, making him gag and choke as air was forced out of him. The rod came down on him again and again, bringing tears to his eyes. But he kept himself from screaming. His hands still held the chain tightly despite the abuse. Aether knew that, if he were to let go for long, his arms would be forced out of their sockets. And that pain he knew he would struggle with. 

"Ready to speak?" Said the man, readying his pencil. 

Aether just smirked. "My sister hits harder than you, punk."

His captor smiled as well. "We'll see about that. Give me thirty, and go harder."

—

The brush moved, forming another black, perfect line on the paper. Adding a shorter line, Ayaka moved to admire the entirety of her work. The letter was penned in perfect columns, each kanji meticulously drawn by her own hand. She could use the help of the clan's scribe to write the letters, yes, but the calligraphy involved always calmed her mind. She placed down the brush when she heard quick footsteps behind her room's door. She got up just in time to see Thoma himself throw open the door. He was missing his red overcoat, now bundled in his arms. 

"Lady Ayaka! Aether is missing!" He spoke loudly. 

"H-how so?" She immediately furrowed her brows. Surely Aether was just lost, if anything. Thoma moved his bundled coat towards Ayaka, and she spotted Paimon's face nestled in the material. "Paimon? What happened?" 

The little creature's teeth were chattering, her whole body trembling despite Thoma's attempts to warm her. Her face had barely any color. She barely spoke, voice trembling and very quiet. 

"We… s-s-somebody a-ambushed u-us a-and P-Paimon fell a-asleep a-and…" Ayaka couldn't tell if those were tears or just salt water, but Paimon was most likely crying. "A-and w-when I w-woke u-u-up h-he w-was n-nowhere t-t-to b-be found…" 

Ayaka placed her warm hands over Paimon's forehead. It was frigid and completely drenched. "H-he w-wouldn't l-l-leave P-Paimon l-like t-that r-right? S-something h-happened to h-him…" 

Ayaka softly caressed her head, speaking gently. "Yes, I'm sure he wouldn't leave you. You are the best travel companion after all, right?" She smiled gently, earning the same from the chilled Paimon. She turned to Thoma. "Take care of her, and then let my brother know what happened. I will alert the Tenryu Commission."

"Yes, my lady." 

Ayaka turned on her heel, and headed towards the exit. 

Was she scared? Yes. But it was not the time for such emotions. Aether needed her, if Paimon was to be believed. 

And she would not let him down. 

—

Aether coughed blood. His battered lungs barely sucker in air and his throat burned from suppressing screams. His eyes were not covered by the tear-soaked blindfold anymore, but the darkness of his cell made it impossible to see. He could feel an unrelenting, piercing pain in his upper chest. Possibly a broken rib, but he would rather not find out. He rested on his back. It was the part that hurt the least, but not because his captors showed him mercy. It was just durable enough to withstand the injuries. 

With his fingers Aether traced circles in the sand and dust covering the floor to distract himself from the pain. His new cell was warmer, but the floor was still filthy and cold. Despite this it was still somehow worse than his previous 'accommodation'. There the hay, as rotten and bug filled as it was, was somewhat soft. Here they just gave him a bamboo mat large enough to lie on. 

It wasn't here to give him comfort, but to isolate him from the ground. To prevent him from getting sick and dying. 

To prolong the torture. 

He drew a strained breath. He needed rest, and he knew that. He needed strength to endure whatever else they would throw at him. Today it was… a hundred? A hundred and ten hits? Something along those lines. He counted to keep his mind focused on something other than the pain. He could not let himself break. Who knew what those guys would do to Liyue, to Ningguang, Ganyu, Keqing if they had a way into the Jade Chamber. But on the other hand… his captors didn't look like any bunch of random bandits. This accent… sounded Shezhnayan. 

He growled. Of course those were Fatui. Or their mercenaries, at least. That gave him all the more reason to hold on. Aether clenched his right fist. 

Those fuckers would not get anything from him. 

At least not soon.

Thanks for reading!

[farter-imperator]

Chronically ill Dew whose illness stemmed from the transition from water ghoul to fire ghoul going wrong.

Dew fluctuates between having a fever and chills.

His whole body aches almost constantly. The joints in his fingers swell and ache the worst after long practice sessions.

He never has much of an appetite, but when he is hungry, he eats at inopportune times. This leads him to having dinner at 5am and breakfast at 3pm. The ghouls learn to carry small snack bags on them in case Dew ever has an appetite. They try to encourage him to eat whenever he can.

On some days, especially on the few days after returning from tours, he needs help around the ministry. He walks slowly, normally with Aether's hand on his back for support, and naps multiple times a day.

Copia was the one who changed him into a fire ghoul.

Whenever he sees Dew struggling, the guilt eats him alive.

[dewdrops-whammy-bar]

Dying Star

Who’s ready for some major feelings!!!!! This is based on this post by @puppsworld and the resulting back-and-forth we had. The spirit of something possessed me and I managed to bang this out in 30 minutes.

I cried writing this… Troi I hope you’re happy with yourself /lh

Warnings: major character death, dementia-adjacent symptoms

Word count: 524

Aether hurt.

He didn’t think fading would hurt this much, but it made sense. His soul, his spirit, everything that was him was falling apart. Dissolving like ink in water.

It had started with a sudden silence. He hadn’t realized how present his magick was in his body until it was gone. He had been walking back to the Abbey from Mountain’s greenhouse when there was a sudden swell of intensity in his stomach. He’d gasped and doubled over as it grew to a painful level. Ozone crackled in the air around him as the Quintessence just grew.

Mountain had been at his side in moments. He had tried to touch Aether, to put his arm around his packmate’s shoulders, but the energy was too strong. There was a sudden swoop in Aether’s stomach and suddenly it was gone.

Everything.

Was.

Gone.

Aether let out a choked sob. He knew what this meant. It was baked into the subconscious of every Quintessence ghoul. One day, your star would burn out, and you’d be gone.

Aether’s star had died. He felt cold and empty without his Quintessence.

The pack had tried to comfort him. They’d held him, wiped his tears, told them how much they loved him. It helped a little.

Aether only had days left. He tried to go about his life as usual, but it was no use.

His memory began to fade on the second day. He struggled to remember the chords he’d practiced thousands of times. His packmates started to look unfamiliar.

He started to hurt on the third day. His body was fading, shutting down for the night. He felt sick, weak and shaky. The pack tried to make him comfortable- they made a nest on his bed out of blankets and added their clothes to surround him with their scents. It helped a little.

He cried a lot. He was scared.

The worst part was, Dew could feel it too. His mate, the man he’d bonded his soul to, was dissolving. He felt him slipping away with every breath, every heartbeat, every second of every day. He curled up in the nest with Aether and cried with him.

He was almost gone on the fifth day. He was fuzzy around the edges like TV static. His hands sometimes passed through things. His thoughts were vague and disappeared quickly. He remembered his pack and mate, though not their names. He couldn’t talk anymore, his tongue felt impossibly light.

It was sunset of the sixth day when Aether faded completely. His pack surrounded him, pressed up against his fragile body. Dew’s fingers were laced with his. He was whispering words of devotion, of love, of bittersweet memories, but Aether couldn’t understand most of them anymore.

It felt peaceful to die, like falling asleep. His form dissolved like ash in water, leaving behind tear-stained blankets.

It didn’t hurt anymore.

He wasn’t there to hear Dew’s keening wail of despair, or his packmates joining in in a chorus of grief. He wasn’t there to watch the sky turn pink and orange and fade to deep gray as stormclouds rolled in.

He wasn’t there.

[ashthewaterghoul]

All Of My Fears Combined, Walking The Thinnest Of Lines - A DewTher One Shot

“Oh, great. So, I have to leave you and your deteriorating body behind for months at a time, some new Quint cunt with me 24/7, and come back to find you dead in our nest?” Dew said. “Dew, we can plan a date and time for it. We can plan every detail so it’s exactly how we want it.” Aether tried to assure. “We? I don’t want this. I don’t want you to want this.” Dew nearly yelled, his eyes each a raging inferno. “And I don’t want my vessel failing but, hey-ho, this is fucking life for us!” Aether couldn’t help his own volume raising now, “I want to die with dignity, on my own terms, with my pack, at the very least my mate at my side. Is that so much to ask for?!” “The way you’re asking for it is!” Dew shouted. Or, Aether starts to notice certain things about his vessel and his time here on Earth. When he tries to discuss it and what he wants with his mate, it goes about as well as anyone would expect...

Words: 2k

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Angst, whump, hurt/no comfort, discussions of assisted suicide, implied/referenced suicide, mentioned Zephyr, Ifrit and Mountain, also mentioned Zephrit, Dew can't handle his emotions, arguing, difficult discussions, unhappy ending.

TW for talking about someone else's suicide, watching a loved one basically go through hospice care and slowly die, talks of assisted suicide.

A/n: Soz lads. I needed to write more unhappy endings bc I always give my stuff nicer(ish) endings. Anyway, have this. All the hugs for Aether.

Title from 'Apartment 402' by girl in red.

~~~

    Aether had been topside for a while. His soul had been in his vessel for nearly ten years now and he certainly could feel it, especially after this last tour. He was tired all the time, aching after the simplest of tasks, little bumps and cuts healed slower, and there was a constant bit of anxiety churning in his stomach that signalled what he’d been dreading.

    His vessel was starting to fail.

    The Ghouls’ vessels are bodies of departed humans, given new purpose by housing a summoned soul. The Ghoul’s infernal magic stopped any of the natural decay and carved out a space for itself. A form to walk amongst the humans with. But all Ghouls know it won’t last forever, and there had never been a successful attempt at permanently binding a Ghoul to a vessel.

    Aether didn’t need to go to the infirmary and get looked over. He knew it in his bones that his time on Earth was starting to come to close. Quintessence Ghouls were some of the hardest Ghouls to keep bound to a vessel after all; their cosmic-fuelled powers do not like to be contained to such a small form.

    As Aether realised what he would become as his vessel continued to fail, a husk with his soul trapped inside until the body well and truly gave out and released his soul, he knew what he wanted. In his head, he had decided on it. But his heart needed his mate to agree first.

Read below the cut or on ao3

    Aether knew there was no good way to approach Dewdrop about this and there would never be a “good time” but he did his best and shot Dew a text just as he would be signing out from his duties.

    *Hey, I need to have a not-so-nice talk with you. Don’t worry, it’s not about us, it’s about me. I just want your support on something xxx*

    He figured it was as good as he was going to get and sent it. What felt like not even a minute later, Dew was through the door to their bedroom and concern plastered all over his face.

    “What is it? What’s wrong?” He said breathlessly, a rosy blush on his cheeks telling Aether he mostly likely sprinted down.

    “Hi, Dewy.” Aether said, “Um, I- I think we need to sit down.” Aether said nervously, gently guiding his mate so they were both sat on the edge of their nest facing each other.

    “What’s happening? You’re worrying me, Stardust.”

    Aether sighed and fidgeted with Dew’s bony fingers, “I, uh, have some news. And it’s not good.”

    Dew’s face was plastered with worry as Aether found his words.

    “The last tour has completely drained me. More than normal. It’s been a couple months since we got back and I feel barely any better. It’s like I could never ever sleep enough to satisfy how exhausted I still feel from the first Ritual of the tour.” Aether took a deep breath, “I started thinking about my time on Earth and I know why I feel like this.”

    Dew’s face had steadily been dropping with realisation as Aether went on.

    “No.” Dew practically whispered, as if saying it out loud made it any more real than it already was.

    “Dewy, my vessel is failing.” Aether’s voice shook as he said it aloud for the first time.

    “H- how? I thought we had more time.” Dew’s eyes started welling up.

    “It’s nearly been a decade, that’s more time than a lot of Quints get. And it’s not over yet. If my thoughts are right, I have another two and a half years, maybe three until…” Aether trailed off, not quite being able to bring himself to say what would eventually happen.

    “Oh, Aeth-“ Dew cut himself off by throwing his arms around his mate’s neck. Silently praying to everyone he could think of for more time.

    Aether hugged Dew back fiercely, taking deep inhales of the burnt driftwood and cinnamon scent of his mate. But he knew this conversation had to go on.

    “Waterlily? There’s something else.” He said as he loosened his hold.

    “Satan’s fucking cunt, what?” Dew said, tears streaking down his cheeks.

    Aether took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to say was a difficult memory for them both, “You remember how Zephyr got? When their vessel was failing?”

    Dew’s face turned even more solemn at the mention of their lost Air Ghoul, and everything that came after.

    “Yeah, how could we ever forget?” Dew’s voice was heavy with the weight that time in their lives still carried.

    “They way they were, towards the end. Locked inside their vessel, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. Even before then, all the pain and confusion. I don’t want to end up like that.” Aether said.

    “Baby, I know but we can’t stop that.” Dew said regretfully, taking one of Aether’s hands in both of his, massaging his knuckles and tracing the veins.

    “I refuse to let you become my carer. You’re my mate, not the person who’s meant to shove a bedpan under me and my shell of a body.”

    “We all knew it would happen, whether it was me or you first. I accepted it as part of my job when we mated.”

    “I know, and it’s what I would’ve done for you if you were first. But I’m not letting it get that far.”

    Realisation dawned onto Dew’s face yet again. And Aether’s hand was dropped.

    “No.” Dew shook his head, eyes starting to come alight with lone embers, “No! How could you even think that? After Ifrit’s already ki-“ The words got lost on Dew’s tongue. It was hard for all of them to think about.

    “It’s because of what Ifrit did that I want to do it like this.” Aether said, trying to reach for Dew’s hand, but he bolted up out of the nest and stood in front of Aether.

    “I don’t know how the fuck you ever thought I’d be okay with this!” Dew shouted.

    “Dew, please, I don’t want to die like Zephyr did. And I don’t want you to go through what Ifrit did!” Aether said, trying his best not raise his own voice.

    “I want to. I want to care for you, the same way you already did for me after my elemental transition! Zephyr managed to enjoy their time as their vessel failed, why can’t you?”

    “Because I am in pain every. Fucking. Day.” Aether said, “Zephyr’s vessel was faulty from the get-go. Their joints, their lungs. They never knew what it was like to live pain free and well-rested and fucking normal. I hurt all over my body all the time, and I’m always tired. Dew, I’m so fucking tired.” Aether’s voice started to get choked on his tears.

    “So, this is your solution?” Dew spat, “Re-traumatise me all over again when I’m still not over Ifrit?”

    “Dew, that’s not fair.” Aether said, fully offended by his mate thinking he was doing this on purpose.

    “This isn’t fair, Aether. How is this any different to what Ifrit did?” Dew said, hands waving around and begging for an answer he probably wouldn’t listen to.

    “Because Ifrit did what he did out of depression!” Aether stood from the nest too, “He had been so caught up in caring for Zephyr as they wasted away and lost all ability to do anything that he couldn’t find his purpose again after they died! Mix that with the depression of losing your mate, and you get that. I want to do this because I want to go out on my own terms, while I’m still me.”

    “Aether, I found Ifrit. I’m not finding you too.” Dew said, the embers in his eyes had steadily been stoked by his anger until now they were raging flames.

    “I know, baby, I remember. I found you in his room after you screamed out, didn’t I? But there’s a way they can do it with meds. It won’t be anything like Ifrit. We can do it here in the nest, or wherever. It would just be like I was falling asleep.” Aether said.

    “But you won’t wake up. Then what am I meant to do?”

    Aether just shrugged and shook his head as more tears fell.

    “I can’t believe you.” Dew continued, “Can’t believe you’d just give up like this. Make me and Mount the only ones left of our old pack. Why couldn’t we just try that ritual to bond you to the vess-“

    “No. Absolutely not.” Aether said firmly, “That ritual can go wrong in dozens of ways. At best, it does nothing. At worst, the vessel gets wrecked even more than it’s already starting out to be and I’m locked into it. Either way we’re back at square-fucking-one.” Aether let out a deep breath and ran his hand over his face, “Look, I’ve already resigned from the band-“

    “You resigned from the band?” Dew cut in, “And you didn’t think to fucking tell me first? Copia finds out your vessel’s dying before your mate, is that how this works?”

    “No, I only resigned. I said nothing other than I felt like shit that whole tour and after and don’t want to do it again. You’re the only one I’ve spoken to about my vessel.” Aether said truthfully.

    “Oh, great. So, I have to leave you and your deteriorating body behind for months at a time, some new Quint cunt with me 24/7, and come back to find you dead in our nest?” Dew said.

    “Dew, we can plan a date and time for it. We can plan every detail so it’s exactly how we want it.” Aether tried to assure.

    “We? I don’t want this. I don’t want you to want this.” Dew nearly yelled, his eyes each a raging inferno.

    “And I don’t want my vessel failing but, hey-ho, this is fucking life for us!” Aether couldn’t help his own volume raising now, “I want to die with dignity, on my own terms, with my pack, at the very least my mate at my side. Is that so much to ask for?!”

    “The way you’re asking for it is!” Dew shouted.

    “Dew, please, just try and see it from my side.” Aether pleaded forcing his voice quieter again, “You remember how Zeph was. Hell, how you were after your transition. I refuse to be like that. And I refuse to let you get to the point that Ifrit did. You may say that you’d have the pack, that none of them would let you do that. But we said the same about our Fritter.”

    Dew’s shoulders shook with sobs he was holding back, his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously, “I can’t, Aeth.”

    “It’s not going to be anytime soon. I’m hoping for at least a year and a half, maybe two before it has to become a serious thought, but I needed to discuss it with you.” Aether tried to reach for Dew but he recoiled as if he’d been burned.

    “I can’t fucking do this. I can’t fucking believe you.” Dew said, shaking his head and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

    “Please, Waterlily, I-“

    “Don’t Waterlily me!” Dew snarled, “I can’t. I fucking-“

    Dew span on his heel and started making his way to the door.

    “Dew, please! Baby, I-“

    But the door slammed as Dew left.

    And Aether broke.

    In an instant, he crashed down onto his already-aching knees. He cried his eyes out, falling forward onto all-fours before slumping to the floor in the foetal position. His knees were hugged tight to his chest as he sobbed. He cried at the situation, at the leftover trauma of Zephyr and Ifrit’s untimely deaths, at Dew’s reaction.

    Loneliness inside his own mind was the one thing he didn’t want, and sure enough, he had just that. Part of him, part of him he instantly detested, prayed that he’d just die now. At least then he wouldn’t have to live with the pain of his mate storming out and leaving him.

One shot master post can be found here!

[ghoulelegy]

In the Breeze of the Autumn Leaves - Chapter 5 - There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Read Chapter 5 here or on Ao3 Thank you @jimothybarnes, @em0bussy, @creatura-theanarchist, and @everybodyshusband for all the wonderful support you have shown <3 Summary:

In a harrowing moment, you find yourself being transported to the hospital on a stretcher, your body heavy with pain and exhaustion. The world around you blurs as paramedics work diligently, assuring you that help is on the way... Word count: 4469

The paramedics gently lifted you onto the stretcher, the world around you blurred—flashing lights and distant voices fading in and out of your awareness. Your body felt heavy, every breath a struggle, but the thought of Copia gave you a flicker of strength. A faint plea escaped your lips. One of the paramedics caught it, exchanging a glance with his partner before pulling out a phone.

“We’ll contact him,” he assured, his voice steady amid the haze. “Just hang in there.”

The ambulance doors shut with a heavy thud, and the vehicle jerked into motion. The siren wailed, but you barely registered the sound. Pain and exhaustion tugged at you, pulling you further into a daze. The paramedic at your side kept a close watch on your vitals, offering murmured words of encouragement, though they drifted away, barely grasped by your fading mind.

Time warped into a strange loop of flashing lights and beeping monitors, your awareness slipping in and out like the flicker of a candle in the wind. The ambulance eventually came to a halt, and you were wheeled inside the hospital. Voices swarmed around you—doctors and nurses moving swiftly—but it was all distant, an echo of the urgency that should have filled you with fear.

Through the fog, you caught the paramedic’s voice explaining the situation to a nurse. “They kept asking for someone named Copia,” he said. “We managed to reach him. He’s on his way.”

That small reassurance anchored you, providing a fragile lifeline. As you were transferred to a hospital bed, hooked up to machines and IVs, the chaos around you blurred. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled your lungs, and the dim glow of fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows you didn’t bother to decipher. You tried to focus, but the pain, dulled by medication, still clung to the edges of your awareness.

Time passed in strange, fragmented intervals. Nurses moved in and out of the room, adjusting the IV, taking your pulse, but everything felt distant, like a dream you couldn’t quite wake from. In one of the brief moments of clarity, a nurse leaned over you, her voice soft.

“You’re doing well,” she said gently. “He’s on his way.”

The words stirred a memory. Copia. You had asked for him. The thought of him brought a small sense of comfort, but the fog was too thick for anything more. You let your eyes close, willing time to move faster.

Then, after what felt like hours, a change in the room's atmosphere stirred you from your daze. Footsteps approached, slow and measured. The door creaked open, and through the haze, you saw him—Copia. His face was a mask of worry, but there was relief in his eyes as they met yours. He moved to your side immediately, his hand reaching out to take yours, firm and steady.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice low, grounding. His grip was warm, anchoring you back to reality. “You’re going to be okay.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of exhaustion and relief. For the first time since the ordeal began, you allowed yourself to hope. Copia sat down beside you, never letting go of your hand. His presence filled the sterile room with a kind of warmth that made the pain more bearable.

The medical staff came and went, checking monitors, adjusting the IV. You barely noticed them, your focus entirely on Copia. His thumb gently traced circles over your knuckles, a silent comfort as the worst of the pain began to dull.

At some point, your voice broke through the haze. “Copia…” you whispered, your voice weak but filled with emotion.

He leaned in closer, his eyes full of concern and tenderness. “I got here as soon as I could,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Don’t worry.”

You blinked away the tears, not wanting to lose sight of him even for a second. “Thank you,” you managed to say, your voice trembling.

He squeezed your hand, his touch firm but reassuring. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone careful, as if he didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace that had settled around you.

The pain was still there, but it felt distant now, as if the worst of the storm had passed. “Better,” you murmured. “Now that you’re here.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and you could see the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. “Good,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

He squeezed your hand gently, his touch reassuring. “There was a moment I thought I wouldn’t. make it. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Copia's grin softened at your words, and for a moment, the space between you felt warm, almost intimate. "There was no way I wasn’t coming," he said quietly, his usual lightness giving way to something more genuine and sincere. Leaning in closer, he seemed to fill the room with a sense of safety that eased your worries, if only for a moment.

"You had me worried," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice evident. It was rare for him to drop his guard like this, but in the quiet that enveloped the two of you, it felt right. "I thought I was going to lose my mind sitting in traffic, knowing I wasn’t here."

You looked at him, taking in the slight creases in his brow and the weariness under his eyes, subtle signs of his concern that only someone close would notice. He had always been there, always found a way to show up for you, even when it was inconvenient or difficult. That thought brought a warmth that eased some of the discomfort still clinging to your body, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

“You’re here now," you said, your voice steady despite the exhaustion tugging at your edges. And somehow, that made all the difference.

He nodded, a small, relieved smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah," he whispered, as though the simple act of being here was all that mattered. "I’m here."

Eventually, a nurse entered the room, smiling kindly at Copia as she checked your vitals. “It’s good you have someone with you,” she remarked quietly. “It makes a big difference.”

You squeezed Copia’s hand in agreement. “It really does.”

The nurse adjusted the blankets around you before stepping back. “Get some rest,” she advised softly. “You’re in good hands.”

As she left, Copia pulled the blanket higher, making sure you were comfortable. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised, his voice a soothing lullaby.

You nodded weakly, exhaustion pulling at you once more. With Copia by your side, you finally allowed yourself to relax the clenched shoulders you didn't realise you had, his presence a beacon of comfort in the haze.

The hospital room was alive with the steady hum of machines, their rhythmic beeping blending into the sterile quiet. Each breath felt like an effort, the exhaustion heavy in your limbs, but when Copia leaned over, his voice a soft tether to reality, the weight lifted slightly.

“Would you like some breakfast?” he asked, his tone careful, as if not to disturb the fragile peace hanging in the air.

You nodded faintly, offering a small smile despite the fatigue that dragged at your every movement. “That would be nice,” you whispered, the idea of food stirring a faint hunger you hadn’t realized was there. Just the simple question, so normal in the midst of all this, made the moment feel more grounded.

Copia stood, casting a playful glance over his shoulder, trying to bring some light into the room. “Are you sure you don’t want me to grab a five-star breakfast from that fancy coffee shop guy?”

You managed a weak chuckle, your eyes barely open. “I think toast and coffee will do. Maybe some extra foam and cinnamon, if you’re feeling fancy.”

His laugh was soft but full of warmth. “Consider it done.”

He left quietly, the click of the door barely registering over the low hum of the hospital. Alone, you allowed yourself a deep breath, the sterile smells of antiseptic and clean linen briefly overwhelming. But that scent, the one that lingered on Copia, of something familiar and grounding, stayed with you. It made the space around you feel less cold, more human.

When he returned, moments or minutes later—you couldn’t tell anymore—he carried a small tray with toast and coffee. The scent of it, rich and bittersweet, filled the room, pushing back the clinical air just a little.

“Here we go,” he announced, his tone still holding that playful edge, though softer now as he set the tray down beside you. You tried to sit up a little, but the effort was too much. Noticing, he moved closer, his hand instinctively reaching out to help.

“Smells good,” you murmured, the warmth of the coffee drawing your focus as he handed it to you. Your fingers wrapped around the cup, and the simple act of holding something warm made the whole situation feel a little less surreal. “You really nailed the foam.”

“I tried,” he replied, his grin small but genuine. “Not exactly café quality, but it’s got heart.” He winked, settling into the chair beside your bed.

You sipped the coffee slowly, savouring the cinnamon, its familiar sweetness grounding you in a way nothing else could. For a moment, it was almost easy to pretend this was just another morning, and you weren’t lying in a hospital bed.

Copia watched you carefully, his usual lightness tempered by a quiet concern that lingered in his gaze. His hand brushed yours, a brief, simple touch, and you felt the warmth spread, the fear that had been tightening your chest loosening just a little.

“You should try some toast too,” he urged gently. “Keep your strength up.”

The thought of food felt overwhelming, but you nodded for his sake, nibbling at the toast as he buttered another slice for you. The room fell into a comfortable silence, his presence next to you a steady anchor against the waves of pain and exhaustion that threatened to pull you under again.

As you chewed, you noticed the way Copia’s shoulders had finally relaxed, the worry lines around his eyes a little softer. He’d been so tense when he first arrived, barely hiding the panic that flickered beneath his calm facade.

“How did you get here so fast?” you asked, your voice thin but curious, needing to fill the space with something other than the beeping of machines.

He smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair. “I was in the middle of one of those ridiculous late-night meetings. When I got the call, I just… ran out.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Didn’t even explain. Pretty sure they think I’ve lost it.”

You smiled, imagining the scene. “At three in the morning?”

“Yup. Hit every red light on the way, too,” he added, his tone lighter now, easing into the storytelling. “Then this old lady with her tiny dog just took her sweet time crossing the street. I swear, I nearly jumped out of the car to carry her across.”

The mental image of him, frazzled and frantic, made you laugh softly. “Again, at three in the morning?”

“Some people and their dogs have no concept of time.” He grinned, his playful tone a welcome distraction. “But I made it.”

The humor faded slightly as his eyes softened, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your heart swell. “I was so scared I wouldn’t get here in time,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you being here alone.”

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words settle over you, filling the cracks that had formed in your mind from the fear, the pain, the uncertainty. He had always been there, even when it wasn’t easy. And here he was, steady as ever, making the world feel less terrifying.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said, your voice steady despite the exhaustion. “You always find a way to be here.”

His fingers curled around yours, his grip firm but tender. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

In that moment, something shifted inside you. The fear and disorientation that had gripped you earlier began to melt away, replaced by a sense of relief so deep it almost brought tears to your eyes. You didn’t need to pretend anymore. With him here, you felt grounded, safe.

A nurse came in quietly, checking the monitors, her presence barely registering as you stayed focused on Copia. She adjusted your blankets, offering a small smile. “You’re doing well,” she said softly. “And with company like this, you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

You gave her a faint nod, watching as she left. Copia pulled the blanket higher around you, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary, as if making sure you were truly comfortable.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised, his voice low and soothing. “Just rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

The exhaustion tugged at you again, pulling you down, but this time you let it. With Copia’s hand still in yours, the soft hum of machines faded into the background. You closed your eyes, finally allowing yourself to rest, his presence a steady light in the haze.

Copia tried to keep things light, but his eyes betrayed the turmoil within him. "How are you really feeling?" he asked softly, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a fragile thread.

You met his gaze, your facade of strength crumbling. "Scared," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know if I can do this."

His hand tightened around yours, a silent plea for you to hold on. "You’re stronger than you think," he said earnestly, though the words felt hollow against the gravity of what lay ahead. "We’ll get through this together."

The room seemed smaller, the walls closing in, amplifying the fear that was becoming harder to ignore. Each passing medical check, every soft conversation outside the door, made it clearer how precarious everything had become. And though Copia was there, his presence wasn’t enough to shield you from the inescapable truth.

Hours passed, lost in a blur of pain and medication, the edges of your awareness blurring into something dreamlike. Copia stayed by your side, unwavering, though the weariness in his face deepened with each passing minute. The night seemed endless, broken only by the occasional click of heels or the shuffle of nurses as they moved through the dim corridors.

In those quiet moments, the sound of the beeping monitors transformed. Once a sign of life, it now felt like a countdown, ticking toward an unknown outcome. Copia’s attempts to soothe you became background noise—comforting but unable to touch the core of your fear. His voice, once so steady, seemed to tremble ever so slightly with the weight of what neither of you could fully express.

“I wish I could do more,” he murmured, his helplessness apparent. His fingers traced aimless patterns on the blanket that covered you, his gaze averted.

You managed a faint smile, though it felt brittle. "Just being here helps," you said quietly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Copia's gaze softened, but guilt flickered behind his eyes. "I should have been here sooner," he said, his voice almost too soft to hear. His hand stilled, resting on the fabric between you. "Maybe I could have prevented…" His words trailed off, the sentence hanging unfinished in the silence.

The weight of his unspoken thoughts pressed heavily on you, and you could feel it settling between you like a lead blanket. Before you could respond, a nurse entered the room, efficiently checking your vitals. She was a brief interruption, but enough to momentarily lift the tension.

When she left, Copia leaned in closer, resting his forehead gently against yours in a fleeting, tender moment. "We’ll get through this," he whispered again, this time the words feeling more like a desperate hope than a promise.

Tears welled up and slipped down your cheeks unnoticed. You closed your eyes, holding on to the sound of his voice, that fragile thread of comfort in the overwhelming darkness.

After a long silence, he spoke again, quieter now. "I need to go," he said, the reluctance clear in his voice. "I can send one of the ghouls to check on you?"

His words broke through the haze, and the reality of his other obligations crept in. You nodded slowly, swallowing the knot that had formed in your throat. "Of course," you whispered. "I understand."

Copia reached out, his hand finding yours again under the blanket, his touch warm and grounding. "I’ll be back as soon as I can," he promised, his voice steady even though it trembled slightly with the weight of his own worry.

You tried to smile, though it felt more like an attempt to mask the loneliness creeping in. "I’ll be here," you murmured, the words tinged with both gratitude and resignation.

As Copia prepared to leave, the room grew quieter, emptier, the silence pressing in from all sides. The beeping machines, the distant murmur of hospital staff, all reminded you of how alone you truly were.

Then, the thought struck you, piercing through the fog. Juno. Panic gripped you, your voice barely a tremor as you mumbled, "Copia?"

He stopped immediately, his gaze full of concern. "What is it?"

You struggled to speak, the words catching in your throat. "Juno…" The fear was raw, overwhelming. "She’s alone. I didn’t… I didn’t think…"

Understanding dawned in his eyes. He squeezed your hand tightly, his expression softening. "I’ll take care of it," he said gently. "I’ll make sure she’s looked after. Don’t worry."

Relief washed over you at his words, though the guilt of forgetting weighed heavily on you. "Thank you," you whispered, tears filling your eyes again. "I should have—"

He cut you off with a soft, reassuring squeeze. "Don’t. I’ve got it handled. Focus on resting. I’ll make sure Juno’s okay."

You nodded weakly, comforted by his promise but still aching with regret. As Copia left, the emptiness returned, but at least now, you knew Juno was safe. It was a small comfort, but in this place, it was enough to keep the fear at bay, if only for a little while longer.

The minutes stretched into hours as you lay alone on the bare hospital bed, each passing second gnawing at your already frayed nerves. The monotony of the sterile room, punctuated only by the rhythmic hum of machines, felt like an oppressive weight pressing down on your chest. You tried to shift, but the ache in your body kept you rooted, trapped in place by the limits of your own flesh.

Just as your mind began to teeter on the edge of sleep again, something changed. The air in the room seemed to still, charged with an unfamiliar energy. At first, you dismissed it as a side effect of the medication, a trick of your exhausted brain—but then, at the foot of your bed, a figure materialized out of the dim light.

A cold shiver crawled up your spine.

"Ah great, I'm having sleep paralysis," you muttered, hoping that humor might make the situation feel less terrifying. But the sound of your voice only deepened the suffocating silence, and the uneasy feeling tightened around your chest.

In the corner of the room, a figure stood, bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. Your first instinct was to dismiss it—just a trick of the mind, your tired brain weaving hallucinations from the edges of reality. But no matter how much you blinked, rubbed your eyes, or willed yourself to wake up, the figure didn’t disappear. They were there, still, unmoving, a stark contrast to the restless thrum of fear in your veins.

The air felt heavier, like the weight of their presence warped the room itself. It was as if the boundaries between the real and the unreal had started to blur. Your mind, sluggish from exhaustion and medication, grasped for logic, for anything familiar to explain what you were seeing. But this figure didn’t belong in your world. Their form flickered at the edges, like light bending around them, neither fully present nor entirely elsewhere. And though they didn’t move, you could feel their gaze—deep, unsettling, like they were seeing into parts of you you’d rather keep hidden.

“Who… are you?” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence—a thick, oppressive quiet that seemed to stretch endlessly. Then, without the figure's lips moving, a voice echoed inside your mind. It wasn’t loud, but it was impossibly clear, like the words bypassed sound altogether, resonating in the deepest parts of you.

"My name is Aether," the voice said, soft but carrying a strange weight. "Copia sent me to check in on you."

Aether? The name meant nothing, but the fog of confusion that wrapped around your thoughts made it hard to think clearly. Sent by Copia? Why? Was this just another dream? A hallucination?

Your heart clenched with a sudden rush of panic. The figure, Aether, stepped closer, and the air shimmered between you, distorting space like heat rising from asphalt. This wasn’t a dream. It felt too real—too vivid.

“Copia…” you mumbled, dread coiling tighter in your stomach. “He… sent you? You could've knocked"

"I uhh…didn't come to my head, to be honest with you" he tried to force a soft chuckle.

Though Aether didn’t speak aloud, you felt their confirmation settle over you—quiet, certain. There was no need for further explanation. You just knew.

Your chest tightened, and a flood of guilt and anxiety rushed through you. "Is he okay?" The words tumbled out, frantic and raw. "He seemed… so stressed. I don’t want him to feel this way because of me. I don’t want to be another weight on him."

The figure’s presence softened, but the weight of their gaze didn’t lift. Aether's voice, like a gentle current of air, filled your thoughts again. "He carries the weight of his love for you. His heart aches not because you are a burden, but because he fears for you. It is love that drives his worry, not obligation."

The word love struck you hard, a bittersweet pang that cut through the fog in your mind. Copia—always so strong, so composed. You had leaned on him so much, but you hadn’t stopped to think about the toll it was taking on him. You’d seen the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his smile didn’t quite reach as far as it used to, how he always seemed to be bracing himself for the worst.

“I don’t want him to suffer because of me,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the full weight of your feelings crashed down on you. You had tried so hard to protect him from your own pain, from the fear and uncertainty gnawing at you. But what if your silence had only made things worse?

Aether’s voice came again, steady but infinitely kind. "Pain and love are intertwined. To love deeply is to accept the risk of hurt. Copia knows this, and he chooses to love you regardless. He doesn’t see you as a burden; he sees you as someone worth every tear, every fear."

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay. The thought of being the cause of his sleepless nights, his quiet suffering—it tore at you. You had always thought you could protect him by being strong, by not letting him see the depth of your own pain. But had that only left him feeling more helpless, more alone?

“How can I help him?” you asked, your voice barely more than a broken whisper. The question burned in your chest, the desperation to do something—anything—to make things easier for him. But you felt so powerless, trapped in your own fear and uncertainty, unable to offer him the comfort he so freely gave you.

Aether’s form coruscated, growing fainter at the edges, as if they were slowly dissolving into the shadows. "Be yourself," they whispered. "Let him love you. Let him share in your pain. It is not the burden you think it is. Love him in return, and that will be enough. He is stronger than you realize."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn’t wipe them away. You couldn’t stop thinking about how tired Copia had looked the last time you saw him, the way he had held your hand just a little too tightly, like he was afraid you might slip away. And here you were, wishing you could shield him from all of it, while he was likely doing the same for you.

Before you could say anything more, before you could ask for any answers to the flood of questions swirling in your mind, Aether’s form began to fade. Their light dimmed, the space around them returning to normal. But as they disappeared, their voice echoed one last time, a soft whisper in the corners of your mind.

“Rest now. Healing will come in time.”

You wanted to argue, to fight against the idea of resting when there was so much still unresolved. But your body, heavy with exhaustion, was giving in. Sleep was pulling at you, and you could feel it wrapping around you like a thick blanket, dragging you under.

"Juno…" you mumbled, barely aware of your own voice. “What about Juno?”

The silence stretched for a moment, and then, just as you began to slip into the embrace of sleep, you heard Aether’s voice again, faint but clear.

"Juno is safe. Dewdrop is with her."

A wave of relief washed over you, so intense it almost hurt. Copia had taken care of everything, even the things you hadn’t asked for. He always did. Tears slipped down your cheeks, but this time, they weren’t just from pain. They were from the overwhelming sense of love you felt—for Copia, for Juno, for the small, fragile pieces of hope that still clung to you, even in the darkest moments.

As sleep finally claimed you, Aether’s last words echoed softly in the back of your mind, a reminder, a promise.

“You are not alone. Neither of you are.”

And with that, the room fell into a peaceful quiet, leaving you to drift into a sleep that, for the first time in what felt like forever, was not haunted by fear, but held by the quiet knowledge that you were loved, deeply and unconditionally.

[whump-ghoul]

Whump Month #4: Shaky

Day four of @cirrus-ghoulette’s Whump Month!

Summary: Sometimes, Mountain’s sciatica gets the better of him... here's how the pack helps him out. 

Tags: Hurt/Comfort / Mountain’s chronic back pain

WC: 1732

It wasn’t until Mountain’s timing wavered briefly, that the ghouls knew they had a problem on their hands. He’s been so good at hiding it, but one small hiccup in his usual seamless performance outed him right away. Because Mountain was never out of time. Of course he corrected himself, but that only amplified the pain radiating from his back and knees. 

He kept telling himself it was the last show of the tour... and he was guiltily counting down the songs before the end. Before the encore, Mountain tried not to look at the ghouls staring back, and he desperately tried to ignore the hand on his shoulder that Copia gave him as he passed to get changed. Kiss the Go-Goat, Dance Macabre and Square Hammer. Three more songs. Just three more before- 

He wanted to cry when he remembered the final bows, and his distressed energy was easily read by Aether. 

Mercifully, the final song rolled around, just as his back began screaming in agony and his knees had since gone numb. Earlier, he hoped that by taking his boots off, he’d be able to lessen the strain on his legs, but it only made it worse by having no support at all. And with no gaps/time to put them back on, he was stuck. 

Aether was the first at his side, playing it off with a:

“Hey, big guy.” as he leant in for a hug, though the sudden ease of pain on his limbs reminded the ghoul of Aether’s quintessence. Still glued to his side, Aether took some of his weight as they descended the stairs, still playing it off as a casual ‘bit’ in order to lessen the fans concerns - though they were too enamoured by the ghoulette’s passing out roses and Dewdrop tossing picks to care. Mountain looked longingly back at his drumkit, guilty he hadn’t picked up some sticks to throw, but Swiss was already on it. He’d theatrically snuck up to the kit, grabbed a couple then pranced to the stage edge to pass them around, dramatically shushing the audience as though he weren’t supposed to be sharing Mountains drumsticks. 

Eventually, the ghouls and Copia lined up for the bows. Mountain tensed, though the shorter ghouls had taken to his side, stopping him from raising his shaking arms too high. Both Cumulus and Rain squeezed his hands, the latter leaning in.

“Breathe through it.” He said, and Mountain nodded, closing his eyes behind the mask as they collectively stepped forward. 

By the time his feet hit the edge of the stage, his knees decided to finally give out, trembling as he went down with a pained grunt. This time, though Cirrus was there to catch him, looping an arm around his back.

“Just a few more steps.” She said, one hand finding his chest to keep him upright. His whole body trembled: shaking at the strain. Embarrassment painted his cheeks red under the helmet, as his clothes felt too right and constricting, especially with the sweat produced from the strain he put upon his body. She motioned for the other ghouls to head to the dressing room, settling Mountain on a backstage crate to offer him some privacy from ghoulish eyes. Touring Siblings of Sin were already in the throes of dismantling the stage, therefore they were too busy to stop and question them. 

“How bad?” She asked, removing her monitor and placing it to one side before taking away Mountains. The earth ghoul hesitated. 

“Nine.” 

“And for how long?” 

He hung his head. “Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright, Mount. You did so well to get this far.” She praised, taking a hold of his chin to hold his head up. She smiled, seeing her reflection in the eyes of his mask, as his hands fumbled with the clasps of his waistcoat, avoidant of further questioning. It frustrated her to know he chose to suffer in silence, though one look at his hunched form dissolved an lasting anger for him.  

“We’ll do that later.” Cirrus hummed, reaching for her helmet. “Let's get the hard bit out of the way first and get to the bus, hm?”

Mountain’s shoulders slumped from their tensed position. Cirrus, trilled in question, now unglamoured to accommodate her horns and tail. She ran the spade of her tail up his leg, smiling at the lack of shoes. Mountain looked at the long corridor of many obstacles, then back to his lap, shaking his head. It was simply too far… he didn’t have it in him. 

“Hey there, Pebble.” 

Mountain shifted his head, his neck begging him to stop moving. 

Cumulus had arrived; dressed down to just the blouse, trousers and boots as she approached from the other side. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Too far.” He grovelled, massaging one knee with his still-glamoured hand. Choosing one battle a time, Cumulus went on the defensive. 

“The sooner we get to the bus, the sooner you can lie down, then the next thing you know, we’ll be back at the Abbey!” 

“Then you’ll have your bed, your chair and your ‘cigarettes’.” Cirrus wriggled her eyebrows suggestively at the last item, and was more successful than Cumulus when fighting back a laugh when his head perked up. Cumulus held out her hands. And Mountain took them. 

Mountain was miserable when they eventually hobbled onto the bus, and thoroughly embarrassed that it took three tries just to get up the steps. No matter how much Cumulus was telling him to slow down, he didn't want to hear it; determined to get to his tiny, tiny bunk. 

However, he didn’t have to worry just yet, as Cumulus steered him to the small dining area at the front of the bus. Copia was yet to arrive, therefore they had some time to spare. Cumulus got to work helping him with his clothes, chittering when he moved as she was content to undress him from his soaked clothing herself. When his helmet was removed, his face was pinched with pain, a sheen of sweat coating his skin and plastering his cropped hair to his forehead. She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, and with some manoeuvring, she slipped a hoodie over his bare torso, and wrestled some soft shorts over his gangly legs; mindful of his swollen knees. 

“You look comfortable.” Dewdrop smirked, leaning casually against the narrow entryway to the sleeping area. Cumulus took her leave, though not before offering another kiss. 

Mountain rolled his eyes, the agony pulsing through every muscle providing every synonym possible for the word ‘comfortable’. The fire ghoul looked at him with a mixture of sadness, and love. 

“How long?” He murmured. 

“Cirrus already asked.” Mountain grumbled back, making to stand, slowly, to avoid his knees buckling. It took a lot of leaning on the nearest wall, but he managed to get upright. Dewdrop had left him to it, allowing the earth ghoul some dignity, though watching carefully in case he should fall. 

“I’m going to bed.” Mountain decided, though he didn’t move. 

“You tryna teleport or what?”

Mountain glared at Dewdrop who grinned. 

“C’mere.” He said, hooking Mountain's arm over his shoulder. It was quite the sight, given that Dewdrop was a good foot shorter than the earth ghoul.

“You’re sleeping with us tonight.” Dew stated when they passed Mountain’s bunk. 

At the back of the bus, the ghouls had rearranged the couches to resemble a nest. It sported a collection of blankets and pillows from the bunks, as well as several hoodies and t-shirts with each of the ghouls’ scents on. In the middle of the relaxing ghouls, was a space fit for a Mountain. A wave of relief hit the earth ghoul like a tonne of bricks as he was granted a night without having to curl up in order to fit in his own bed. 

Rain held an arm out; reclined against a pillow as he gestured towards the space next to him with his other hand. Mountains knees were shaking again; pain and discomfort radiating so strong that even the air ghouls were able to sense it. Aether shifted in his worry, but was ultimately pulled back towards a sleepy Cirrus’ chest, the ghoulette promising that Mountain was going to be fine. Dewdrop nudged him forward, and he all but collapsed in the space between Sunshine and Rain. The water ghoul helped him get comfortable against his chest, before beginning to run his hands through his scalp, frowning when he realized the ghoul was still glamoured. 

“You can drop it.” He offered, though was met with a sigh as Mountain sagged against him, but he still kept shifting his legs to try and get comfortable. In the low light, Rain could easily see that his knees were swollen, and beneath his hand, his shoulders were still tight with tension. 

Though this didn’t last long, as Sunshine quickly got their hands on him. Using their fire essence, Sunshine offered warm hands to massage away the pain, wincing themselves when they felt just how tough the muscles around his knees were. However, they revelled in how Mountain slowly began to relax beneath their hands. While they found it difficult to stay awake - still not used to the stamina needed to perform - they were determined to continue for as long as the Earth ghoul needed. 

Swiss on the other hand was more blasé in his ministrations. He padded over to the pile and tossed a water bottle towards the earth ghoul, along with a packet of painkillers. Rain hissed non-committedly at him as he caught the bottle, but Swiss shrugged it off with a smile. Believe it or not, Swiss knew exactly what Mountain needed when his pain got the better of him: painkillers and a surface to lay on. The additional attention from the ghouls was not unwelcome, but it took Mountain a long time to accept and feel comfortable with the help. Admittedly, Swiss used to hover on days like these, but as the years passed he grew more knowledgeable and understanding of Mountain’s insecurities. After the earth ghoul had swallowed some pills, Swiss was satisfied enough to settle in the pile, taking the spot behind Dewdrop as they waited for Copia to return. 

After the tour a long rest was certainly deserved, and before they knew it, they’d be back to the familiarity of the abbey grounds. 

[anonymouslymadebydesign]

Whump Month, Day 1 : Burn

Brought to you by the wonderful @cirrus-ghoulette (ˊ̥̥̥̥̥ ³ ˋ̥̥̥̥̥)♡♡♡

CW : Talk of self harm not just mentioning but actively partaking in it. Please don't read if you are sensitive to this subject!

Summary : Dewdrop learns about SH not long after his elemental transition, and, feeling like he had no other outlet, picked it up as well.

Word Count : 673

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　

If he was completely honest, he would tell you right away how he started and who introduced him to it. Smoking was one thing, indulging in the occasional drink another, but this was one thing he hadn't thought of himself. To be quite honest, it had never even crossed his mind, the idea of harming oneself with blades. But, he would never confess to that. He would never rat out the one who planted the seed all those years ago.

It had happened not long after his elemental transition. Despite feeling at home with himself, and finally feeling comfortable in his own body, the outside world had other plans. He felt ostracized, like some sort of freak for finding solace in Fire. For rejecting Water and building his home and comfort in the ashes. He wasn't scorning who he used to be, no, not at all. But those around him seemed to think so. People began pulling away, becoming more and more distant, as if he'd died in the transition and they needed to mourn for him. It made him sick. But, in the same breath, it left a wound in his heart, a hole that refused to heal up and instead festered.

It was a Sibling of Sin. Shelby, her name was. He'd noticed the scaring and innocently inquired about it, and, not knowing any better, took her words as gospel. She confided in him how she felt like an outcast, and how the nasty thoughts in her head on seemed to go away when she bled. When the burn of metal tore apart her skin, and blood poured out of her. When the world seemed to stop, and everything got quiet. When her skin began to burn as if the inferno inside her was finally being let out, slowly but surely, until she was but an ember.

He had been shocked at first, but had followed up with;

"Does it actually make you feel better?"

And she had looked at him with sad, pitiful eyes and responded; yes, it does.

And so, that's how he found himself where he was today. Locked away in his room, not just the bedroom door locked but the bathroom as well, just in case. He knew, in the back of his mind, that this was wrong. That he shouldn't do this. That, if anyone were to find out, he'd be sent away.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on who's asking, the Abbeys uniforms mainly have were long sleeves. And when push came to shove, it was easily disguised under a simple glamour. With just a bit of magic, his skin was smooth and ashen, a perfectly unscathed Fire Ghoul. No one had to know. No one had to know.

It was an addiction like any other. The sweet smell of iron when his blood blotted to the surface, the intense burning sensation of flesh split open. The one thing that seemed to slice through the numbness and the hate. The anger and despair. The silent cry for help and whilst keeping everyone at an arms distance, going the extra mile to take precautions so no one would find out. He was burning the candle at both ends and couldn't see it.

What he missed though, was the knowing looks his currently pack mates would give eachother. That knowing look of sensing a glamor. Whispered questions of why? Why would he use one in the sanctuary of the Abbey?

Rain chalked it up to insecurity about his transition, maybe he didn't like the old gill scars that had left behind. And that seemed like the narrative the majority of the newer pack agreed upon.

Aether had his suspicion though, but didn't know what to say. He didn't want to outright accuse him of such a thing, but something in the depth of his soul told him something was wrong, and it wasn't a simple spell to his blemishes.

Because he knew that Dewdrop didn't have fins or gills along his arms when he was a Water ghoul.