#the secret dew body wash

[secretdew]

India Best Mojito Moments Body Wash

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[etherealising]

chapter eleven | flowers filled with dew

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣ |

pairing(s): carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: you and carmen have a long awaited heart felt conversation about a life the two of you could’ve shared…if only times were different.

warning(s): implied miscarriage | off-page miscarriage | talk of miscarriage | non-explicit description of miscarriages | moon cycles | grief | sadness | angst | ooc carmy | these losers finally communicating | minimal editing please give me grace | probably more idk sorry warnings |

wc: 4.9k

Neither of you say a word. You’re both tucked under the covers like two children preparing to tell each other ghost stories, a position you’ve surely been in with Carmen before. It's quiet, all to be heard are the soft breaths, the two of you exchange Carmy’s familiar scent of nicotine and the kitchen mixed with your signature body wash delicately dances across your senses.

You watch him as he watches you. It's been silent between the two of you since the shower you shared, each of you tenderly helping the other dress afterward. The revelation of the night felt as though it sucked out any remaining energy either of you had left.

The blue of his eyes was easy to get lost in. The sadness pulls you into the depths of his doe-like baby blues, the length of his lashes delicately brushing his skin with every flutter of his eyes. It was slow, the way your hand reached up to softly trace the bruising color on his cheekbone that juxtaposed the soft hue of his iris. Thumb carefully running back and forth over the bruise he received mere hours ago. You weren’t sure what time it was, but the fact that everything happened in 24 hours didn’t feel real to you.

“Do you hate me, Carmen?” The whisper was rough, and the sobs paired with the lack of speech made your voice sound raw like you’d unintentionally swallowed sandpaper.

Your eyes found his once more following the widening of his pupils, the brush of his lashes against your thumb still lavishing his cheek. You were unsure if he heard you, and that was okay, you didn’t think you’d be able to stomach his answer if it was unsavory.

“No.” It was firm, his answer; almost immediate. He heard you loud and clear his heart skipping a beat at the silly question you’d dare to let leave your lips in his presence. He could feel his breathing begin to pick up as he prepared to ask his question. A shiver raced through him as your hand gently slid down his cheek, tracing a path down his neck before landing on his heart, the gesture distracting him enough to get his breathing as controlled as he could at that moment.

It felt second nature as his hand came up to cover yours in its place over his heart, squeezing it slightly as if doing so would sink your hand into his chest and allow you to grip his heart in the way you’d been unknowingly doing all these years. Carmy watched you for a moment, tracing how sunken your eyes were, your face that mere hours ago shone in happiness and radiance now looked sullen, as though the life was being sucked out of you in real-time. He felt the urge to leave his questions unanswered, to continue re-learning your face until the ground decided it was time for him to leave this earth. But Carmen also needed to know, this secret part of him wanted to understand why you deemed him so undeserving of sharing in such a life-altering loss.

Maybe this was his comeuppance.

Carmy cleared his throat finally prepared to know you, “How…wha-.” He had to stop himself, the blockade in his throat fighting his every instinct to question you. He could feel his eyes water as the burn in his throat traveled to his chest, the never-ending ache that rented space there grew heavier by the minute, his mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he swore words were leaving his mouth but no sound was.

“Shh, hey.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at you as his hand squeezed yours tighter, blunt nails digging into your soft flesh. It was like the harder he tried to fight through the pressure in his chest the worse it became, his vision so blurry that your face became a mosaic of the features he so easily recognized anywhere. The shaking began unconsciously as your forehead rested against his, that ache he was so familiar with felt like it became deeper by the second as he tried to get himself to calm down.

“Shh, it's okay to let them happen sometimes, Carm.” He wanted to believe you, his head softly nodding against yours as though the movement would tell his brain that it was okay to sink into this feeling and it wouldn’t result in destructive behavior. “You’re safe with me Bear.”

The caress of your voice traveling through his ears awoke something in him, something he desperately searched for through childhood; to be allowed the chance to bask in his emotions without having to compensate for those of the people he loved. The gasping breath he let out was mixed with a sob of pain as the tightness in his chest felt like it would consume him at any moment. He thought he’d gotten everything out in the shower while the two of you were wrapped around each other feeding off the shared hurt. But this was something he needed, to allow himself to feel every warring emotion in his body no matter how uncomfortable it was; to feel safe while doing so, to know that there was somebody who cared for him and watched over him as he let the anxiety crescendo and run rampant through his veins.

Carmen needed this moment to understand just how valid his emotions were. And to know that someone cared enough for him to stick by his side as he allowed himself to safely express them. Carmen needed this, he needed to feel safe.

“Why?” Your eyes blearily opened at the warmth of Carmy’s breath against your neck, the husk of his voice in your ear. Somewhere between comforting Carmy through his panic attack and the two of you falling asleep once more, the position the two of you were in changed. You could feel his broad chest pressed into your back, the warmth of his body providing you a comfort you longed for but never allowed yourself the chance to have.

It was silent as Carmen’s arm moved from its place resting against your hip, his calloused digits carefully tracing over the exposed skin on your leg before finding its way under your shirt and shakily stopping above the skin of your stomach. The tremors continued uncontrollably as you could feel the presence of his hand hovering over their destination, the hesitation easily noticeable through the flexing of his forearm against your waist. You took the chance to lay your hand flatly atop his, guiding them to the warm soft flesh of your abdomen as Carmy’s sharp intake of breath reached your ears.

The response you felt was immediate, the tears filled your eyes as you basked in the comfort you longed to feel a year ago, but decided you were undeserving of it. You bit your lip to stop the tears from falling, hoping that your sniffles were quiet enough to slip past Carmy’s detection. It didn’t matter though, the trembling of your body gave everything away. The man rubbed soothing circles into your stomach a way for him to let you know that although you were alone in that moment, he was here now; and as much as his fear of the unknown screamed at him to run, he wasn’t going anywhere.

A tear escaped at the feel of Carmen’s warm chapped lips pressing into the exposed skin of your shoulder blade, the gesture left behind a heat you were sure you’d never forget. Carmen allowed you the moment to collect yourself, “Why?” He couldn’t get himself to say more, and you didn’t need him to as his fingers gently tapped against your stomach.

“I-,” you took a calming breath, wanting to answer any of Carmy’s questions as best as you could. “I didn’t know until it was too late.” The last word left your lips in a broken whisper, there was no conviction behind them just a sadness and pain and Carmy swore he could feel every essence of your emotions bleeding into him.

His thumb gently traced across your abdomen hoping to provide comfort in whatever way he could as you recounted such a horrid memory. “Everything was fine when I returned to Chicago… at least I assumed things were. My uh cycle came at the end of March and that was that.”

You gently traced the tendons of his fingers that rested against you, reminding yourself that you were no longer alone, “And then it was April and it should’ve been my last week in Chicago. I was uh staying with your moms by that point, keeping house…keeping her company. Natalie needed a break and I thought the least I could do before leaving was make sure the one parental figure still in my life was surviving.”

Carmen’s hand flexed against your stomach as he instinctively pulled you further into him, somehow hoping that if he wrapped his body around yours it would lessen the pain of your words. He felt guilty listening to the way you cared for his flesh and blood in their time of need more than he did.

“When I wasn’t with Donna, I was at The Beef…helping Richie. And I felt like it was what I needed to do, you know? Richie had his shit going on with the divorce and everything and if I could help out where I could then I would.” The longer Carmy listened to you the more he was beginning to unveil the person you grew into, he came to the silent conclusion that you had a problem with putting other's lives and wellbeing before your own.

You turned in Carmy’s arms needing to not only feel him but see him as well, it wouldn’t make things any easier, but you felt he was deserving of your full attention at this moment. “I remember feeling so lethargic that day, that I just assumed it was all the stress of trying to take care of everyone else getting to me. And it was the lunch rush, and things were so hectic I just needed to take a beat, you know get my mind right.” You held Carmy’s attention, keeping an eye out for any signs that it was all becoming too much for him and that a break was necessary.

A blush rose to the man's cheeks as he realized what you were doing, embarrassment flooding through him that even now as you were recounting this moment to him, you so desperately put him first. “I uh chose the walk-in of all places…I was having the worst cramps and felt like I was going to pass out at any moment. Richie came barging in and we locked eyes and it's like we just knew something wasn’t right.”

A small joyless laugh escaped you as you thought back to Richie’s antics while you were getting checked in at the hospital, “I remember the nurses tried to kick Richie out of the room for the tests they needed to perform but he convinced them we were married.” You listened to the soft watery chuckle escape from Carmy, “I don’t know why he didn’t just say I was like his adopted sister or something.” A sadness not even the softness in Carmy’s eyes could cure stirred in your chest as you thought back on a moment in time you had no idea would mentally and physically impact you as greatly as it did.

“Imagine our surprise when the doctor came back with monotone apologies for our loss, but not to worry because if we ever wanted to try again for a baby the chances of another miscarriage were slim, but I’d better beat my biological clock before it beat me.” It was getting harder and harder to continue explaining as the memories began resurfacing with your words.

Carmen was unsure what to do with the information you’d just given him, to know that it was Richie by your side while you were given such heart-wrenching news drew him back to his moment with Richie in the walk-in. The venom in the older man’s words as he yelled about keeping the Berzattos together when Carmy couldn’t find it in himself to do so; he hadn’t realized it applied to you too.

“And I-I was so confused. I didn’t understand or I don’t think I wanted to understand. And god do I love Richie but he swore up and down that they’d mixed my results up with someone else’s 'cause there’s no way I was pregnant.” The rough feeling on Carmen’s thumbs carefully collecting the now free-flowing tears that raced down your face made you cry even harder, your eyes moving from their position over his shoulder to find his gaze, his eyes full to the brim with unshed tears.

You took the moment to gaze at the man in front of you, to appreciate having him here with you “We uh…we argued after I told him about us…me and you,” you watched the frown decorate his face “He never outright said it but I…I think he was disappointed in me.”

Carmen allowed your words to sink into him, that familiar ache waiting just around the corner as he came to terms with the reality of everything. He should’ve been there by your side, the decision to not use protection wasn’t yours alone, and it shouldn’t have been your burden alone to carry the consequences of that decision.

“You uh…why didn’t you call me?” His hands dropped from your face the longer he allowed himself to think about everything. “Didn’t I have a right to know?” The soft broken timbre shot through you, the hurt on his face made you feel worse than you already did.

You couldn’t help but feel selfish as you realized what exactly you had stolen from Carmen by not confiding in him about something that was just as much yours to experience as it was his. “Your life was in New York Carm, you built something great there and I felt like I’d already taken so much from you…who was I to take even more. I-I thought it was for the best…I wanted to prote-”

“And who are you to decide what’s best for me?” The newfound irritation in his voice wasn’t lost on you, nor was the way his eyebrows pinched together in that way that told you he was beginning to feel frustrated.

You sat up, eyes following Carmen’s as he hastily rolled out of the bed, his figure quickly pacing in front of your bed. “Carm, you have to understand-,”

“You were pregnant Baby!” He regretted the broken yell as soon as he saw you flinch, but the excuses you were giving him felt like bullshit. It was like Mikey all over again deciding for him that he couldn’t work at The Beef, and now this, you decided he was better off never knowing that the two of you almost created a family together. And he was beginning to get tired of people making decisions on his behalf.

“And weeks before I was pregnant I was just some quick fuck you couldn’t even bother to call to make sure I made it home safe!” It was unfair, you knew it was, considering the context of this conversation the argument you were making didn’t even have two legs to stand on.

Carmy recoiled into himself almost immediately as he listened to the hurt and anger in your words. “I never told you to leave…I-I didn’t want you to leave.”

“You never asked me to stay either Carm.” You let out a small sigh, no matter what either of you said it wouldn’t change the past; the damage was done.

The room fell silent, Carmy’s chest heaved up and down from his position standing in front of you while you sat propped on your knees in the bed trying to corral all the pent-up emotions this conversation drew out of you. The tension in the room was palpable, the air heavy with the anger and hurt shared between the both of you. You weren’t sure how the conversation took such a sour turn but the longer you sat there watching Carmy you began to understand the root of his frustration, you kept something that negatively impacted the both of you from him and yet here you were allowing the shame you felt to convince you lying to him was for the best.

“I’m sorry I just…I blamed myself.” You sagged into yourself, the anger gone just as quickly as it appeared as you looked at Carmen, your bottom lip trembling. “You are the only person I wanted around me when I found out,” you bit your lip to try and control the trembling, the slick feeling of snot and tears all over your face. “But I just couldn’t bring myself to call you. We just lost Mikey and I told myself you wouldn’t be able to handle it…but the truth is I couldn’t handle it and by keeping it from you I was able to ignore the truth of it all.” Your head throbbed as you offered up the only pathetic explanation you had for the reason the two of you were in this situation now, allowing the hurt to disguise itself as anger. Self-sabotaging the relationship you both wanted so desperately to repair.

“Carmen I,” you let loose a deep breath knowing what you were about to admit didn’t justify keeping Carmy in the dark but he deserved your honesty. “I love you too much to ever force an experience like that upon you. And I know it was wrong of me to decide for you bu-,” the feeling of Carmy’s firm arms wrapping around you cut off your sentence a small whimper escaped at the tight almost painful grip he held you in. The soft press of his lips against your head and soothing whispers caused you to collapse into his hold.

You dug your hands into the borrowed shirt he was wearing, holding onto the fabric for dear life as you admitted your failures to Carmen, unsure how he could even stand to be in the same room as you. “Shh, shh I’ve got you.” The soft words and warm embrace were something you longed for from Carmen and it was no one's fault but your own that it had taken so long to get here.

Morning dew clung to the flowers that decorated the small garden in your backyard. The tiny blue bulbs of the flowers were beginning to overpopulate the garden, the invasive species of the plant doing what it did best. Carmen wasn’t sure how long he stared at the flowers, but it was long enough that the cold air of the morning felt like it was beginning to sink into his bones.

He frantically tapped the mostly empty cigarette carton against his thigh, trying to catch up with the thoughts racing through his mind. The exhaustion was creeping in on him, no matter how hard he tried to force himself to find sleep after he held you crying in his arms, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how alone you were in the past year. He hoped that if he looked at you long enough the words you shared with him would somehow become digestible. Carmen spent the night watching as you slept on his chest only removing himself from under you when he could no longer quiet the voices in his head telling him that he deserved to be left in the dark, that he didn’t deserve to know this part of you or imagine how different life would be if there was a little life that depended on him; on you.

The anxiety quelled for a bit as he laid in bed with you, but now that he was alone that part of him that urged him to run, to disappear before you woke up because surely this wasn’t reality. If he left now the truth of the matter wouldn’t be able to follow after him, but he knew this wasn’t a problem he could shove to the back of his mind, he wouldn’t be able to use the chaos of the kitchen to forget any of the memories you shared with him.

An exhausted sigh escaped his lips as he finally pulled a cigarette from the carton, hand digging around in his pocket for a lighter only to realize he’d left it in his pants pocket before venturing outside. The sound of a door opening and closing drew his attention, he watched as you exited the house in your pajamas approaching him with eyes that looked as tired as he felt.

You held out a lighter in offering to him, his eyes darting towards it before finding your eyes once more sure you spotted him wallowing back here through your bedroom window. His hand gently reached out to take it from your grip, a small nod in thanks sent your way before he turned back to the flowers and lit the cigarette. He took a deep breath of the vapors watching from his peripheral as you squatted next to him, your arm brushing against his leg as you settled into the position.

Carmy watched you as your eyes traced over the flowers every bit of exhaustion he was feeling could easily be read on your face. He took another drag of his cigarette before extending it to you, a gesture he was sure he’d never pull but times were different now, that much was obvious.

You shook your head rejecting his offer, “It's stupid, but I…um I don’t like to smoke in front of the flowers.” Carmen followed your hand as it reached out to delicately trace over the petals of a nearby flower, your voice scratchy, raw from the sobs you shared last night.

He felt like an asshole, “Shit, I uh didn’t know.” He quickly snuffed the bud out, holding it in his hand to not litter near a garden that held importance to you.

“How could you?” You finally graced him with a look, a small sad smile lining your lips as Carmy found himself being sucked into the depths of your lifeless eyes.

He felt the ache in his chest returning the longer he held your eye. It was obvious that even just the reminder of everything had already taken such a toll on you, how could he even part his lips to ask you for an explanation of the flowers when you looked like you had just re-lived one of the worst moments of your life?

Carmy cleared his throat, eyes moving back to the flowers, “Why?” There was a moment of silence as he awaited your response, doubt filling him at every moment without any words between the two of you. “Why uh…why don’t you smoke in front of the flowers?” He raised his hand to scratch at the back of his neck the familiar sense of unsurety racing through him.

“Hmm?” Carmy watched as the side of your mouth ticked up, the knowing smile that usually followed that gesture was nowhere to be found as your lips fell back into a melancholic line. “Forget me nots are said to symbolize a few things a lot of people correlate them with true love. There’s a folktale about a man who picked these flowers for his lover by the river bank, sadly though he slips in and as the current carries him away, his last words to his lover are forget me not. ” Carmy listened intently to your words, his hand finding your initial pendant that set warmly against his upper chest. “But others used them as a sign of remembrance, to never forget those lost to time. These flowers…they’re a reminder for me of Mikey. Of…” Carmen could hear the heaviness in your voice as you spoke a lump forming in his throat at the words left unsaid.

He watched as you quickly wiped away the stray tear to escape your eye, his heart silently breaking at how much of a shell of your old self you appeared to be at that moment. He thought back to the letters he knew it was essentially an invasion of privacy for him to read them, they weren’t for him. But he couldn’t help but wonder, is this how you looked while writing them? Downtrodden and desolate, like just the act of breathing alone would confine you to dark weeks in bed with no will to move.

Carmen’s hand gently reached out to settle against your shoulder, hoping you could feel the comfort he was trying to exude through the gesture. He watched as your hand reached up to delicately grip his, lips pressing into his fingers before your head delicately settled against his hand.

“It was wrong of me to keep this from you Carmen, and I understand if you’re angry with me and want nothing to do with me. But please don’t be upset with Richie, or Nat. All they were doing was respecting my decision.” Carmy listened as you played with his fingers, his itching to grip yours.

An exhausted sigh left you, something you appeared to be doing more recently, “ I know it doesn’t mean anything now, but I do wish I told you when everything happened.” Carmy’s warm body joining you in the wet grass caused you to stop, his hand that was once on your shoulder moved to wrap around your waist softly pulling you into his chest, the warmth and comfort radiating from his body was almost immediate. “As selfish as it sounds there’s a part of me that’s holding out hope you’ll forgive me for all the secrets I’ve kept.” You wanted to cry as you felt the gentle press of Carmy’s lips against the side of your head. The gesture made you emotional.

You could feel Carmy’s heartbeat through the position the two of you were in, you hoped the rhythmic beating of it would imprint itself in your brain in case this was the last moment you ever got with the man. “I uh..,” you waited hand hesitantly intertwining with Carmy’s as a way to let him know that you were receptive to everything he needed to say. “I am upset…I uh n-not with you just the situation.” He paused hoping to gather his thoughts.

“I think…uh we hadn’t seen each other in years and uh when we did…” You listened to his voice trail off sure a red blush was making its way up his neck as he tiptoed around the night the two of you spent together. “Just I understand why you didn’t tell me, I didn’t make things easy…and I told you I couldn’t commit to you.” Carmy cleared his throat, sure you felt just as uncomfortable as he did as you listened to him speak, he was thankful he wasn’t looking at you though because he couldn’t guarantee he’d get any words out if he did.

“I just…I wish you felt comfortable enough to call me…a-and I know I should’ve called you but Baby you shouldn’t have gone through it alone.” It was quiet for a moment as the two of you sat there basking in each other’s confessions and the gentle breeze of the morning.

You turned to face Carmen, his arm dropping from your waist as you rose to your knees studying his face. A million scenarios ran through your head as you thought of what could’ve been…what never was, it did no one any good envisioning a life that was no longer theirs to claim, but who were you to deny yourself a daydream or two? A small trembling smile rose to your face as you took in every feature of Carmy’s you would’ve loved to see on a tiny human.

“I wish you would’ve called.” Between the trembling of your lips and the quiet of your voice, it was a miracle the five words reached Carmen’s ears.

He rose to your level in an instant watching as tears began to escape your eyes, but he found himself drawn to the small genuine smile that sat atop your lips, the gesture confused him as he couldn’t understand how you found the strength to give him a smile amid everything. He gently wrapped his arms around you bringing you into his chest before placing multiple kisses against the top of your head as your face pressed into his chest listening to his heartbeat once again.

Carmy wished he called as well.

a/n: didn’t mean to go m.i.a just in a bit of a life slump. this chapter gave me major writer’s block and i just stopped enjoying the writing process all together so updates may become less enthusiastic idk we’ll see. on another note i have a new idea for another series so that’s fun i guess, anyway hope you enjoy this chapter for what it is. i hope you’re all doing well, happy new year! 🫶🏽🤍

[violetsiren90]

WIP Wednesday

Pairing: best friend's younger brother!Changbin x f!Reader

Genre: drabble; established (secret) relationship; smut and fluff w/ a smidge of angst

Summary: Three months after you show up on your best friend's doorstep to find her brother instead, Changbin thinks it's time to let Nari know that things have changed.

Content warnings (for snippet only): 18+ (minors, DNI); showering together; allusions to sex; nudity; kissing and embracing; teasing (non sexual); mentions of reader's hair being washed; some minor anxiety and worries; fluff 🥰

Word Count: TBD.

“I have a confession to make,” his voice comes from over your shoulder and the patter of water against the shower floor.

You hum in response, eyes closed as his fingers lather shampoo against your scalp, filling the humid air with the scent of lemongrass and lavender. His other arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close so that your bare back leans flush with his chest.

“…I told Chris.”

Your eyes open, droplets clinging to your lashes like dew.

“About us?”

His hand skims up your side and moves to cup your forehand and tilt it back as you feel the warm spray of the showerhead through your tresses. When the suds are gone he turns you around, hands on your hips. He looks like the cat who caught the canary as he nods and smirks, and you can’t help but smile yourself, even as you attempt to harness an expression of disapproval.

“How’d that happen?”

“He basically called me out on it. Said only one thing could make me so stupidly happy.”

“Mind-blowing sex?” you murmur, pressing your slick skin to his.

“You,” he corrects, his eyes glimmering as he leans down to press wet lips to yours. When he pulls away, you consider for a moment.

“You mean…he knew you liked me? Before?”

“You think my best buddy wouldn’t?”

A pang of guilt twists in your stomach at the remark. Your best friend is still very much in the dark about…well, everything where you and her brother were concerned. You chew your bottom lip as he helps you out of the shower. Absently reaching for the towel he holds out, you blink into focus as your hand clutches at air when it’s drawn back out of your reach.

“What…hey, why are you…?” you glance at Changbin, who is now holding the towel over his head, a victorious look on his features as his eyes rove your form.

“I like you naked. Five more minutes!” He whines with a chuckle as you swat his bulging pectoral and snatch the towel cradling his hips to wrap around your own damp body.

“You’re ridiculous,” you grumble with a smirk, but you adore it - how taken his is with every part of you. How he always wants to touch you, hold you, be close to you in any way he can. And how he never shies away from saying just exactly how you make him feel.

Though, you’ve noticed a shift in that particular respect over the last few weeks.

You watch him rumple the towel over his hair.

Sometimes he holds something back. You can always see it, lingering behind his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. You can feel it on the tips of his fingers and at the end of each sweet kiss. But it’s grown with time, and you feel the weight of it each time his eyes rest on you when he thinks you’re not aware.

You suppose it’s only natural that there should still be some mystery between you. Even after all the years you’ve known him, these were uncharted waters, and ones you’d strayed into more than a little clandestinely.

Keeping your relationship secret has had its benefits. It’s given you time to grow without the judgements and perceptions of others playing a part in your gentle discovery of one another. It’s also taken the pressure off of things - not having to answer questions from anyone you haven’t even had the chance to ask yourselves. And it was fucking sexy, to be honest, all the sneaking around. Inconvenient at times to be sure, but still deliciously indulgent to the rebel in you both.

But as you watch him open the mirrored cabinet to grab the toothbrush he keeps in your bathroom your heart skips a beat and you wonder if it’s time the jig is up.

You settle behind him, slipping your arms around his middle and resting the side of your head against his broad back.

“What did Chris have to say? About me and you?” you ask softly.

Changbin spits into the sink.

“He was stoked for us.”

You smile.

“He did ask if Nari knew.”

You sigh.

“I think she should by now,” he says, turning to speak over his shoulder. “I think it’s time.”

You hum into his skin.

“The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be. A few months of privacy is alright, we’re still in the clear.”

He’s right. You know he is. You press your damp forehead into his back and sigh again.

“It’ll be fine,” he says around his toothbrush.

“She’s gonna freak,” you groan.

“She’ll get over it.”

You sincerely fucking hope so. The faucet squeaks shut and he turns, wrapping you in his big arms, to press a minty kiss to your lips.

“Stop fretting, beautiful,” his dark eyes sparkle down at you, “We’re gonna be okay. Nari too.”

Your heart melts as it settles when his mouth seeks yours again. Yeah. You could face all the troubles of the world, in fact, if you were allowed to keep holding him like this.

~To be continued~

[justnother-user]

Matt, Mello, and Mello/Matt HCs I’ve had stuck in my head for months

Matt

• Uses 3-1 shampoo, conditioner, body wash

• Black nail polish

• Bi, no preference

• Saggy pants, belt only for looks (fashion over function <3)

• Smokes newports

• HATES VAPES

• Finger guns in pictures

• Has the crunchiest hair from the constant dying and bleaching

• Goes to sleep at 6am and wakes at like 9am (barely functioning)

• GAUGES!!! (like small ones not the huge ones)

• Burnt out from the pressure at Wammys

• Has used heroin like 3 times minimum (idk why)

• Dimples

• Canadian, brought to England

• Super dehydrated (pees out battery acid)

• Glasses (googles have his prescription on them)

• Jewish (non practicing)

• Bullies kids on Roblox

• Hates the French

• Wears boxers

• Hates Mountain Dew

• Sleeps on an air mattress (always wakes up basically on the floor)

• 80% of shirts are stripes (me too king 🫶)

• Almost better than Near when it comes to technology

• Flip phone has a little Pac-Man ghost charm on it

• Has a tamagotchi

• Can’t cook for shit

• Uses astrology as an excuse not to do stuff (“Mercurys in retrograde sorry can’t do it :P”)

Mello

• Coke head (again idk why it just suits him)

• Plays the piano (badly)

• Bi, preference towards men

• Big coffee lover (black coffee, anything with milk and sugar is “basically a milkshake”)

• Catholic (mostly for the aesthetic, but does go to mass on Sundays)

• Wears boxer briefs

• Lowkey knitter (like knits in secret)

• Constantly overheating

• Reading glasses

• Prefers dark chocolate (hates white chocolate bc “its not real chocolate”)

• Pescatarian

• Russian or Latvian (no one really knows, he doesn’t care)

• Internalized homophobia

• Cat person

• Tried to get into sewing but kept messing up

• Vision loss in his left eye from the explosion

• Left handed (tried to make himself ambidextrous)

Mello/Matt

• Mello buys Matt nice lighters and ashtrays but Matt never uses them because “they’re too nice”

• Mello paints both of their nails and gets mad when Matt accidentally smudges them

• Mello cuts Matt’s hair, if he doesn’t Matt would be walking around with a mop head

• Matt does sudoku while Mello does crossword puzzles

• Mello is a total passenger princess when in Matt’s car

• Mello knits Matt beanies

• Mello helps Matt dye his hair

• Matt has cyberstalked Mello’s exes

• They both have cheated on each other but they don’t care (yes they do)

• If it wasn’t for Mello, Matt would have no social life

• SUPER on again/off again

[nico-is-typing]

"Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation", a guide

Notes:

The chapter summaries were written by the author and translated by the staff at the Mo Dao Zu Shi Wiki. This "guide" serves as a simplified overview.

To make it easier to access the information, this is divided into novel volumes. Aside from the list of chapters, and respective summaries, at the end you can find ALL FLASHBACKS (for people who, like myself, dislike flashbacks and need a previous warning).

Volume 1

Prologue

Wei Wuxian has died!

1. Reincarnation

Wei Wuxian is reincarnated into someone else's body.

2. The Intractable

Part 1: Wei Wuxian makes a scene in front of Gusu Lan disciples. Part 2: Evil spirit comes Part 3: Battle corpses

3. The Prideful

Part 1: I have a little donkey that I never ride Part 2: Wangji's long-awaited arrival Part 3: After washing my face, found out I was actually pretty handsome Part 4: Soul-eating woman Part 5: I am taking this person back to the Lan Clan

4. The Elegant Flirt

Part 1: Overbearing Hanguang-jun's crazy little escaping wife??? Part 2: Inviting death by crawling into his bed Part 3: First meeting as schoolmates Part 4: I hate you Part 5: Inviting death by provoking him Part 6: Teasing this Goody-two-shoes Part 7: Water spirit, loquat, muahh! Part 8: Rabbit, taking a beating, bye-bye!

5. The Sunny Pair

Part 1: Leaving the mountain to elope!!! Part 2: The husband duo leaves the mountain Part 3: Caressing your hand, huzzah! Let's go to a darker place together...╭(′▽`)╭(= =)╯ Part 4: Man-Eating Ridge

6. The Malevolent

Part 1: Rotten luck Part 2: Coming out alive Part 3: Nonchalantly shedding fake identity + princess carry Part 4: Unveiling the secret of the Man-Eating Ridge of Qinghe Part 5: Aaaahhhhh! What else is buried in the walls?!

7. The Morning Dew

Part 1: Come~~ be happy~~ let's drink wine~~ Part 2: "Sir, what's your last name?" "It's... Lan" Part 3: The extermination of the Chang clan, gravedigger, summoning Wen Ning again Part 4: Lan Zhan... is drunk......... Part 5: "You were so wild last night, Hanguang-jun"

Volume 2

8. The Stalk of Grass

Part 1: Foggy ghost city Part 2: Paper effigies Part 3: Paper effigy shop and sticky rice porridge Part 4: Who's outside the door? Bamboo pole clacks Part 5: Who are you, and who are you? Who the f**k are you guys really? Part 6: Secrets start unveiling Part 7: Yi City's story Part 8: Frost Blood Parts 9: Trash Yang incites the wrath of heaven and people Part 10: The husband duo decapitates Trash Yang, Xing-Lan-Qing gets sorted out, Yi City Arc complete

9. The Allure

Part 1: Wangji drunkenly hits Wen Ning, Xiao-Wanjun binds Wei Ying at night Part 2: Special program: "Drunk" by Lan Wangji, "Interrogation" by Wei Wuxian, "Kiss" joint performance Part 3: Take off my headband, you become mine!!!

10. The Beguiling Boy

Part 1: Headless man Part 2: Secret room, head Part 3: The Venerated Triad Part 4: A mutual fan-turned-anti story Part 5: A mutual fan-turned-anti story, complete

Volume 3

11. Supreme Courage

Part 1: Previous life Part 2: The beast at the end of the deep cavern Part 3: Wicked beast and biting Wan-jun, piggyback leads to heart aflutter Part 4: Tease. Flirt. Escape. Bite. Yell. Wail~ Part 5: Kill after finishing teasing, tease after finishing killing.

12. Sandu: The Three Poisons

Part 1: A storm is brewing Part 2: All hell breaks loose. A great slap Part 3: Upheaval at home Part 4: Wen Ning Part 5: Dead end

13. Ill Winds

Part 1: Rise of the evil and charming wickification Part 2: Continuing that rise of evil and charming wickification

14. Soft

Part 1: Inseparably in love Part 2: Sinister melody Part 3: Set out Part 4: Pouncing into a grass pile is a type of romance Part 5: Dig graves and eat melon Part 6: Crusade against

15. Peony for the Soon Departed

Part 1: Everyone, I like flashbacks Part 2: Shadow Part 3: Tossing flower from the balcony

Volume 4

16. The Unruly

Part 1: Crashing a feast Part 2: Defect

17. Distance

Part 1: Two people taking care of a little one together Part 2: Goodbye my love

18. Night Flight

Part 1: Wei Wuxian, lifelong anti-fan of Jin Zixuan, says "I won't troll Jin Zixuan for a year" Part 2: Wickification maxed Part 3: Die with her, everyone!

19. Core of the Truehearted

Part 1: Flashback ends, back to the present Part 2: Unmask Part 3: The crowd of corpses at Burial Mounds Part 4: Battle against the fierce corpses Part 5: A-Yuan, A-Yuan Part 6: Blinding the children by showing off Part 7: Spilling secret Part 8: Don't you know? Once you have a boyfriend, you must take him to see where you grew up Part 9: Pay respect towards heaven, saving mutual salute between couples for later Part 10: The truth behind the golden core Part 11: Jiang Cheng is shook

20. Day and Night

Part 1: Stealing lotus pods Part 2: One inn, one room Part 3: One is handsome, one is charming, therefore they should do something Part 4: Drunken Ji Part 5: Stealing jujube and chicken Part 6: Love bathing Part 7: Overthink Part 8: Now Wei Wuxian can't leave Lan Wangji

Volume 5

21. Hensheng: To Hate Life

Part 1: Time to beat Yao-meimei Part 2: Discipline whip scars Part 3: Confession Part 4: Rescue failed Part 5: I'm sorry. I broke my word. Part 6: But, those are all things in the past Part 7: It is all you guys' fault Part 8: Boss's dignity Part 9: All gathered in one hall

22. Hidden Edge

Part 1: Everyone fights older Nie together Part 2: Nie Mingjue f**k you #%@&#*&@ Part 3: Seal the coffin Part 4: Everyone has their own path

23. Wangxian: Forgetting Envy

Part 1: Every day is every day Part 2: Sweet Part 3: The ballad of Wangxian was as long as the journey here, now the song has ended but the couple are together at last

Extras

Family Banquet

Part 1: Honeymoon, going back to check up on Hubby's family (○｀3′○） Part 2: Honeymoon, day-to-day accounts Part 3: Daily lives of the lovey-dovey husband duo

The Incense Burner

Part 1: Let's gather around and watch Er-gege's () dream Part 2: Yiling Patriarch Xian vs Young Wangji, KO

Villainous Friends

The daily lives of the evil duo, committing crimes and wiping evidence

Gate Crasher

Part 1: A small night-hunt after Wangxian goes into seclusion Part 2: Catching creatures with Sizhui Part 3: You're a virgin? :P

The Iron Hook

Part 1: Patriarch's night-hunt course Part 2: Second night-hunt notes

Lotus Seeds

Summertime of youth

Yunmeng

A dream among clouds, a dream come true

From Dawn till Dusk

Cuddling and grading papers

Flashbacks

Vol. 1

From "The Elegant Flirt, Part 3" to "The Elegant Flirt, Part 8"

Flashback to the beginning of the Cloud Recesses' Arc. Includes: Wei Wuxian and Lan Wanji's first meeting at around fifteen years old.

Between "The Morning Dew, Part 2" and "The Morning Dew, Part 3"

Lan Wangji (re)tells the story of Xiao Xingchen and the massacre of the Yueyang Chang Clan.

Vol. 2

From "The Stalk of Grass, Part 6" to "The Stalk of Grass, Part 9"

Past memories, from performing Empathy on A-Qing (ghost) Includes: The expanded story of Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing, Xue Yang, and Song Lan; What is really happening in Yi City.

In "The Allure, Part 3"

Minor flashback to the archery contest, at the Qishan Wen Clan's Discussion Conference. Includes: One of the first forehead-ribbon incidents

From "The Beguiling Boy, Part 3" to "The Beguiling Boy, Part 5"

Past memories, from Nie Mingjue (non-consensual Empathy) Includes: Meng Yao's back story; A look into sworn-brotherhood; What really happened to Nie Mingjue?

Vol. 3

From "Supreme Courage, Part 1" to "III Winds, Part 2"

Flashback to Wei Wuxian's first life. Includes: Nightless City Arc (Wen Clan of Qishan); Burial Mounds, the first appearance; The demise of Wen Chao; Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji realizing Wei WuxIan has changed.

From "Peony for the Soon Departed, Part 1" to "Peony for the Soon Departed, Part 3"

Flashback to Wei Wuxian's first life. Includes: Archery competition, the full story; A sneaky kiss; Jin Zixun being the worst.

Vol. 4

From "The Unruly, Part 1" to "The Unruly, Part 3"

Flashback to the "The Downfall of Wei Wuxian". Includes: Crashing the Jin banquet; Qiongqi Path (freeing the remnants of Qishan Wen Clan); Turning the Burial Mounds into a home; Cultivation World leaders start scheming; Jiang Cheng wants to fight.

From "Distance, Part 1" to "Distance, Part 2"

Flashback to the "The Downfall of Wei Wuxian" continues. Includes: Lan Wangi visiting the Burial Mounds; Accidentally adopting a child together; "Rich-gege"; Jiang Yanli is a bride now.

From "Night Flight, Part 1" to "Night Flight, Part 3"

Flashback to the "The Downfall of Wei Wuxian" continues. Includes: Wei Wuxian tries to be a good uncle; Ambush at Qiongqi Path; R.I.P Jin Zixuan and good-riddance Jin Zixun; The Wen siblings surrender; Wei Wuxian says goodbye to his remaining sanity (Yanli deserved better); Bloodbath of Nightless City ensues.

There's no actual flashbacks in Vol. 5. Still, some of the Extras take place in the past.

[st-danger]

you know, i think a lot -one might say too much- about dewther where Dew has a daddy kink and Aether is just so soft with him. Dew heavily dislikes showing that kink of his to ppl, but the way Aether is so gentle with his words but rough with his thrusts, the way he's praising Dew, worshipping his little body and marking him just makes his mind hazy with only thoughts of Aether

yeah, i think about them too much

Dew claws into the sheets, scrambling to brace himself as his body is rocked by Aether, whose hands hold his hips and push and pull him back onto his cock like he's nothing. Moving him like a little doll, just the way he wants.

He likes it on his hands and knees like this. He knows Aether would prefer to take him on his back so he can drink in every little expression he wrings from him, but Dew can't look at him and call him that. He just can't.

"That good?" Aether grunts from behind him, and Dew bites his lip and nods, before remembering that Aether can't see, and moaning out a yes. The drag of him inside feels like a brand. He feels possessed.

Aether slows, and then stops, and Dew tries shifting back, but Aether's hands hold him still.

"Yes what?" Aether asks, a little out of breath, and his hands relax on Dew's hips, smoothing up the length of his spine. "Be a good boy, Dew. Use your words." He drags blunt nails back down and Dew shivers violently trying to find his voice.

It doesn't matter how many times they do this. How comfortable Dew is with Aether. It's still a tricky thing for him to navigate, at least in the beginning. He'll say anything, run his mouth with all kinds of preposterous nonsense when he's close to cumming and stupid. But initially....

"Yes Daddy," Dew whispers it like a shameful secret, and feels his entire body flush with it, the tips of his ears burning as his toes curl. Aether groans with approval, continues rubbing his back as he grinds into Dew, slow rolls of his hips that make the tip of his cock pearl with fluid.

"What a good boy," Aether says, and the arousal drips off of every syllable. "So sweet, so good to me, so good for me."

Dew clenches hard around him at the praise. Involuntary. Aether's the only one who knows this side of him; he's sure the others know he appreciates compliments and attention- how could they not, seeing him on stage?- but the syrupy sweet tones Aether dotes on him with? These are private.

"Fuck me," Dew whines. "If I'm so good, fuck me."

A hand slides under his stomach, up to his chest, fiddling with the piercings there.

"You know how to ask." Aether says, serious but not unkind, hips still grinding. "Go on. Properly. I'm so proud of you when you do."

"Fuck me Daddy," Dew flinches, ever grateful Aether can't see his face contort in shame, even as his cock throbs and drools from saying it aloud. He feels ridiculous saying it, it's weird, but Aether-

Aether loves it. Loves it and loves him and will indulge him in anything he wants.

"That's it, baby," Aether coos, thrusting slow again. "Doesn't that feel good to say? You, oh, you," Aether's breathing is all shaky, already. "I love it when you talk like that. When you say that."

Aether has his face pressed down against the mattress in no time, fucking into him hard and slow, drilling into that sweet spot relentlessly. It's overwhelming, the words and the sensation, and Dew's not even fully hard, but still dripping, still absolutely going to cum from being fucked.

"You like it when Daddy's a little rougher, don't you."

"S'good," Dew slurs. He's drooling on the sheets a little.

"Like it when I use this little body, huh? Take you, mark you so everyone knows who owns you?" It doesn't even sound dirty, the way Aether's saying it. It sounds sincere, and Dew feels dizzier for it, letting the obvious affection wash over and suffocate him. Against the bed, Dew mumbles uh huh, blushing darker when Aether continues the litany of praise. Praise about how good he feels, how nicely he takes it. How small and delicate he is beneath Aether this way. What a good boy he is for his Daddy.

"Will you tell me?" Aether's voice shakes, juxtaposed against the confident and harsh thrusts. The only tell that it's driving him as insane as Dewdrop. "Tell me."

He doesn't have to ask what. With a whimper, he moves his arm closer so he can hide his face further.

"Love you Daddy," Dew grits out, pained. Hating and loving it in equal measure, repulsed by the words and endlessly aroused by them too.

"Gonna take care of you," Aether soothes, bringing a hand around to toy with his cock, stroke it fully hard. "gonna take care of my boy."

[mancer-in-the-abbey]

Listening to Steam Powered Giraffe as I am wont to do when I need a break from Ghost and Honeybee came on and now I can’t stop thinking about Dew and his relationship with the previous era.

Dew was alone for the majority of his life in the pit- not for any particularly tragic reasons, at least in his opinion. That’s just how his particular variant of water ghoul works: Young ghoul pups stay with their mothers till they’re old enough to hunt for themselves and eventually they just kind of… swim off on their own, likely never seeing their parent again unless by chance.

All this to say, Dew was never a particularly social person before coming topside. Being surrounded by so many people when he was first summoned was a hell of a culture shock to him, almost immediately putting him in fight or flight.

It helped that, in my mind, Dew wasn’t immediately summoned into the Ghost project and instead spent his first year as your run of the mill nameless ghoul. Being put on kitchen duty allowed him to watch how the human staff interacted and bonded. Over time, he was even accepted as one of their own, taught to do more than wash dishes and only speak when spoken to.

Yet, even with that, Dew found himself to be… missing something. His new life on the surface had awakened an ache like the pressure of the deep sea- this longing he hadn’t even known was there till he’d gotten the barest hint of fulfillment. It gnawed at him, day in and day out, but no matter what he did, what avenue he went down, he couldn’t find anything to quell the feeling.

And then, after the loss of almost all their instrumentalists, the Ghost project opened auditions.

It was a tense time in the abbey; no one was sure where the project was heading in the aftermath of the banishments and Terzo’s place in the ministry was coming under question. Dew, however, saw an opportunity for something better, something that just might give him the thing that soothed the ache quickly becoming unbearable to him.

And somehow, by a miracle of Satan himself if one were to ask Dew, he was picked to play bass.

And the ache was, indeed, quelled by his time with the band, but not by the fame or attention it brought like Dew thought it would.

No, the relief came in the form of his fellow musicians, both those summoned and those that passed the auditions with him.

The Meliora ghouls were, for all intents and purposes, Dew’s first real family: Aether opened him to a vulnerability he’d never thought possible, even with himself; Zephyr taught him everything there was to know about the abbey, its secrets, and how to make it home; Mountain was a solid figure in his life, a tree to take shelter under when things became uncertain; Mist, though she was no longer a part of the band, was Dew’s mentor in both bass playing and how to be a water ghoul on the surface; Omega, likewise, was as close to a father figure as he ever had.

And then there was Ifrit. Ifrit, the fiery hearth that warmed him in body and soul. Ifrit, his heat and passion natural foil to all of Dew’s cold and disinterest. Ifrit, who knew exactly when to push Dew out of his comfort zone and when to reel back.

The two were instrumental to each other’s growth, with Ifrit the one to go head first into everything and Dewdrop being the one to slow down and think. Separately, sure, they were their own people, but together they made one better whole, bolstering each other’s strengths and balancing each other’s flaws.

And then, one day, it was all taken away.

One day, Terzo was dragged off stage without warning. One day, Imperator decided he would be of more use as a fire ghoul than water. One day, he was walked into the ritual chamber as a water ghoul for the last time, his pack waiting outside the room- not allowed in for fear of interference.

One day he woke up in the medical wing, burning all over, boiling hot from the inside out, and only found Aether and Mountain at his bedside, the both of them wearing looks that told him all he needed to know of the fates of the others.

(Just before the ritual, Ifrit had pulled him in a hug tight enough to press carbon into diamonds, hiding his worry with a smile. “It’ll be alright,” he promised, “when it’s all over and you feel better, I’ll teach you everything I know about being a fire ghoul. It’ll be fun, you’ll see!”)

(What he wouldn’t give to hold him close, him and all his family together, one last time. What he wouldn’t give to be that little water ghoul again, surrounded by love and joy he’d never known before.)

Nowadays, Dew does alright for himself. He runs much hotter than he ever had before, is a bit quicker to temper than he used to be, but his new pack doesn’t seem to mind- and lords below, does he love his new pack with everything he has.

But still, every year on the anniversary of his first pack’s death, he distanced himself from the rest. He grabs a spare blanket and Ifrit’s old acoustic guitar, walks out to the woods outside the ministry, keeps walking till he finds a clearing he and Ifrit shared with one another, a private place for the both of them to get away when things ever got too much.

Dew stops in the middle of the small glade, spreads the blanket out on the wild grass, sits down, takes out the guitar, and plucks out a tune his wildfire used to play him.

“Hello, goodbye, Twas nice to know you, how I find myself without you, that I’ll never know.”

“I let myself go.”

[miasmaghoul]

Miasma... do you have any cute comfort things for any of the ghouls?

But of course! Cozy headcanons under the cut!

Comfort comes in all shapes and sizes. Some are simple - like an oversized sweater, or a mug of something warm on a cold morning. Some are more complex - like the smell before a thunderstorm, or the light the world is washed in just before dawn.

The ghouls are all comforted by different things. Of course they all get something comforting out of their communal piles and the truly absurd amount of sex they all have with each other, but on an individual basis their needs vary:

Aether is a ghoul of two minds. He's most comfortable in silence, curled up with a thick book and a roaring fire, his only companion the crackling logs. It soothes him in a way nothing else does, and he has a few secret hideaways in the abbey that not even Dewdrop knows about. Places he can escape to when everything becomes a little Too Much for him to handle. But at the same time he loves his pack and finds comfort in their presence, at least most of the time. His quintessence ties them to him on the deepest level, and having his fellow ghouls around sort of feels like he's constantly being hugged. In a good way, in a way that makes his chest feel full. He's also a sucker for cute animals, something he picked up from Mountain.

Speaking of, Mountain is perhaps the easiest ghoul to please when it comes to comfort. Give him a plant or some dirt and he's happy as a clam. Dew and Sunshine bring him cool rocks from their walks and he keeps every one. He's also a huge fan of cooking and takes great comfort in being able to provide for his pack by preparing meals. And of course, the cute animals are a weakness. He has a collection of stuffed forest creatures on his bedroom shelves, most of them gifts, some picked up over years spent touring. His favorite is a worn old stuffed fox he's named Felix, who lives on Mountain's bed. A gift from Ifrit after their time on tour together. Sometimes he smells a little like cinnamon and wood smoke, and it makes Mountain smile to know that Dew has taken yet another sneaky nap in his bed.

Dewdrop likes to think he's a hardass. He doesn't really care for cute shit and shrugs off hugs (with a few exceptions), grousing about wanting to be left alone. It's all an act though. Dew's weakness is physical touch - he's happiest at the bottom of a ghoul pile, squished between bodies and purring like an engine. They all know it, it's not like he's subtle about it. He just has a façade to maintain, at least in public. So in lieu of hugs and cuddles where everyone can see, he'll sit too close to others on the couches, pressing his thigh against Swiss's or resting his head on Rain's shoulder. If the couch is full, he'll sit on the floor between someone's legs instead. Even the smallest bit of touch is a comfort. He's also incredibly weak to having his hair played with. He lets Rain braid it when they're alone, and when the water ghoul is done Dew is left so relaxed he can hardly stand.

Rain is another easy one to please - just put him in water. Fresh or salt, warm or cold, a bathtub or an ocean - it doesn't matter, he just wants to be in it. He never showers for less than 45 minutes and tries to make it to the lake every day. He says it feels like his batteries are being recharged when he sinks below the surface, letting the chill water engulf him. It brings him calm like nothing else. But in the winter when that isn't an option, Rain luxuriates in his bathtub with his personal water heater - Dewdrop. Because as much as the little ghoul bitches about people touching him where others can see, he's nothing but tactile in the privacy of someone's quarters. Rain is also a ghoul that finds comfort in food. Soup is his favorite - Mountain makes a different kind every week just for Rain to have for lunch.

Swiss finds most of his comfort in music, both in listening to it and playing it. He can play a little bit of every instrument, and he can entertain himself for hours in the practice room. It soothes a part of him that otherwise feels a touch...crazed, he thinks is the word. Like there's a constant buzzing in his head that can only be calmed by music. He has an old record player of Copia's in his room, plus about two dozen records across all genres. He likes the crackle of the vinyl, the way it hits his ears is instantly calming. Beyond that, he's pretty basic - he likes comfy clothes and would exist in only sweatpants if given the choice. A cup of hot cocoa on a winter morning? Absolutely his jam. With extra marshmallows, thank you very much. Also very much a cuddler, will drape himself over the nearest body every chance he gets.

Cumulus is comforted by caring for others. She's the designated mom of the group, always flitting around making sure everyone has eaten the meal she helped Mountain make. She tracks heat cycles and full moons so she can make sure the fridge is stocked with bottled water and recovery snacks. She's never without a kind word to give or a gentle hand to lay on someone's cheek. She gives the best hugs, even if the others have to bend to get them. Even Dew isn't immune to the power of a Cumulus hug. Cumulus cares and, perhaps unsurprisingly, truly adores being cared for in return. The other ghoulettes will bring her breakfast in bed and run her an herbal bath. Dew will give her a nice warm back rub as long as they're alone. Aether and Swiss will read to her or play their guitars and sing. Rain will brush and braid her hair while Mountain rubs her feet. The care fills her with a warmth like nothing else.

Cirrus is much like Aether - she enjoys the quiet, perhaps even more than he does. She'll tuck herself into the most secluded part of the library and lose herself in trashy romance novels and mug after mug of mint tea. Even better if it's a rainy day - the patter of raindrops on the window in her little alcove is hypnotic in the best way. On the rare day where the abbey is hit by a thunderstorm, though, you can find her in the chapel. Sitting in a center pew, surrounded by flickering candlelight and watching sheets of rain cascade down the tall stained glass windows. It brings her a sense of serenity that she's never been able to replicate. But she doesn't always want to be alone - she'll hang out in the common room too, knitting or doing a crossword. She stays quiet for the most part, but just existing with her pack is comforting in its own way.

Sunshine is most comfortable when she feels free. To that end, she adores being outside. Lounging by the lake, wandering the rose gardens to literally stop and smell the flowers, foraging in the forest with Mountain - it's all fair game. Her favorite thing, though, is to lay on the roof of the abbey. She'd found the winding staircase leading there by accident one day, early after her summoning. She'd followed it out of curiosity and found herself on a small patch of gravel-lined roof washed in afternoon sunlight. She'd felt incredible, like her skin was vibrating. She'd stripped her uniform off and laid there for hours, basking in the sun's rays. She still does it as often as she can. Sometimes she has company - Swiss, Mountain and Dew are all fans - and they'll lay together talking about absolutely nothing important until Sunshine starts to yawn. Then it's time for a sun-soaked nap, and that's her favorite part.

Also they all really like being high. So there's that.

[sebastianswallows]

Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 8 — Sebastian walks

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.9k

— A/N: If you're familiar with the film Withnail and I, you will notice a lot of references to it here 😂 You can probably guess what I was listening to when I was writing Sebastian's walk, and the name Vivian is a reference to the actor who was the inspiration for Withnail, Vivian MacKerrell.

— TAGLIST: @bloofinntoona @sarcasticpluviophile @estrotica

Sebastian woke with a start. His head hurt terribly, and when he opened his eyes, he couldn’t see a thing. He grumbled and turned on his back, realising after a few confused moments that he’d bumped his head into the wall. He wasn’t in his old bed anymore. Slowly, it all came back to him: the Aurors, the visit to Ominis, and then coming here…

As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he could see the vague angles of the room painted in pale blue from the sunrise just peeking over the horizon. He threw the heavy sheets off his body and groggily got up, walking through the room with one eye open until he reached the desk where his pocket watch was. He picked it up and frowned at it — he hadn’t slept until the afternoon had he? Oh, he was just holding it upside down…

Sebastian braced his arms against the windowsill and looked outside. The glass was framed with the wild growth of her garden, beyond that was the small stone fence, and beyond the fence, between the houses of her neighbours across the road, waves of grass rolled across the landscape and foamed with shrubs and stout thick little trees, growing into taller hills up in the distance. A veil of fog was cast over the land, and the sky was draped in clouds.

He opened the window. The leaves were brushed away briefly, then flicked back against the wall, sprinkling the frame with dew. Cool air washed over Sebastian’s body. He felt his skin tightening and his lungs filling to the brim as if it was his first real breath. The air quickly filled the room behind him, making the wood furniture creak.

It was certainly something different from his London flat… He almost felt back home in Feldcroft, although the terrain there was far more angular and grey.

Sebastian gave up on the idea of going to sleep again. He took his nightshirt off and threw it over the back of the chair, then washed his face in the basin on the desk. The water was cold against his sleepy face. It crossed his mind to warm it with a spell but, for some reason, he decided not to. The splash of brisk discomfort, the dark and quiet room, the unfamiliar view outside, its beauty — it made him feel like someone else, someone new. It felt as though, in this place, his old self couldn’t find him anymore.

As he splashed cold water over his neck and ruffled his thick brown hair, he even thought of using some sort of alias. The idea made him laugh… He’d used aliases before on mainland Europe a couple of times when the situation called for it, but never in an attempt to refashion himself into a new man — never for fun.

What sort of name would he pick, if given the choice? What sort of history could he invent for himself? Who did he want to be, if not Sebastian Sallow? Maybe some aristocrat on vacation, someone from a wealthy pureblood family, like Ominis… Someone pompous, frail, and without a care in the world, with an extravagant name like Vivian Macmillan, or Sylvain Greengrass, or Aetius Avery.

He finished washing and dried off, feeling quite awake by now. Moving slowly, quietly, he began to pull out what to wear from what he’d managed to hang up in the wardrobe the night before. What would a wealthy wizard wear? Something starched and sturdy for the countryside, and a practical tweed in rustic colours for the suit. He smiled to himself — they would see it as quite the experience to have to dress themselves for once, rather than have a house elf see to it. They might be slow at it, careful, deliberate…

And what would a wealthy wizard do in the morning? Why, go out for their daily constitutional, of course. Keep their body fit as they familiarised themselves with the area and maybe got to know some of the locals as well… That carried the risk, of course, of exposing Sebastian to people who might realise he’s not who he says he is. Then again, there weren’t that many Macmillans or Greengrasses or Averies in the region, and the only major wizarding family, the Clokes, were unlikely to be well acquainted with them since they weren’t all that wealthy.

Still, if he wanted to play it a bit more inconspicuous, he could pretend to be a Hogwarts professor instead. A haughty academic spending his days in peace and quiet in an unassuming little village, before the start of the next term…

He smiled as he put his arms through the jacket sleeves, then tugged it firmly to his body with decorous poise. Next, he threw on his oldest coat, a linty woollen thing in black that fit a bit more firmly around his body than it had ten years ago, and transfigurated his hat into a sturdy tweed cap to match the suit. As a finishing touch — and after digging in his suitcase a little while for it — he wound a green scarf around his neck, one he had kept around since 7th year. As a Professor, he would still be quite supportive of his House, wouldn’t he?

With his wand tucked in his pocket, he opened the door slowly and tip-toed outside. The living room was dark and quiet, its windows far more shaded than his room to let much of the morning light stream in. But even so, he found the mirror hanging near the clothes hanger to the right of his room and could finally admire himself in it.

Bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, with whisps of brown hair curling up around the rim of his cap, he would make for quite the reassuring teacher. His eyes crinkled as he smiled in that self-assured, pretentious way he’d seen Headmaster Black do so many times. But Professor... Valdemar Vane — yes, that would do well — who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, could not be more different than Headmaster Black.

He would inspire a love of learning in his students, he would teach them to respect the dark arts, and he would be firm but fair — oh but he would play favourites, because of course he would. He wound the green scarf around his neck one more time in a brisk flourish, and parted from the mirror with a smirk.

There was a door to the left of the fireplace, wide open, which led into the kitchen. To the left of that and through a little hallway that lead into the deepest place of the house, was the door to what he knew to be her bedroom… He walked toward it, careful not to make the floorboards creak. Was it curiosity? Was it morbid fascination? Was it whatever he was feeling for her? All the same, he felt something drawing him to her room.

The hallway was narrow, its walls adorned with a few small paintings he could hardly make out in the dark. No light came from beneath her door, and all around was quiet. Sebastian stood outside for a few moments, just listening, just thinking… she was on the other side. Asleep, alone. His hand came over the handle, and very slowly, he pressed it. The door was unlocked, and unwarded by any spell — how sweet it was that she trusted him. His heart nearly froze in his chest when the door opened, but nothing happened. She didn’t wake, she didn’t scream at him… There was only silence.

The little he could see of her room was dark, so he opened the door wider, wider, enough to poke his head through — and he saw her. The bed was soft and overflowing with a thick duvet that was tangled in her legs. She slept on her side, curled up like a foal, her hair in a messy braid over her back. He smiled; it made him feel warm and soft just to see her like that…

Fearing that she really might wake up, he closed the door as lightly as he’d opened it, and walked away.

By the door was the cupboard for the shoes, and he’d had the good sense to leave a pair of his own there last night. He put on his firmest boots, fit for whatever muddy roads they had around there, and stepped outside.

The sun was shining over the hills like a partly opened eye, and the fog had lifted somewhat, leaving the thicket of flowers in her garden heavy with dew. Sebastian felt his face sting from the cold, but his body was comfortably warm. He blew into his hands and rubbed them together, then shoved them in his coat pockets and began an aimless walk.

It was so deathly quiet on her street, although the trees that lined the road were loud with birds. All the houses in the neighbourhood were far apart, and all stood at different elevations. The cobblestone street was weaved between them like a river on a whimsical course.

Sebastian decided to take on the wealthy Vivian Macmillan persona, a more carefree choice than Professor Vane, and strolled straight-backed and high-headed, peeking shamelessly through the windows in passing — as much or as little as he could, seeing as they were all fenced off, and each had various amounts of trees or shrubs in their gardens. All the windows were curtained and dark anyway, with few things placed on the windowsills for him to see — a candlestick, a potted plant, the occasional forgotten toy… From one of the windows, a black cat stared at him with its yellow eyes. He tipped his hat to it.

It was fairly easy for him to tell which house belonged to a wizarding family and which to a muggle. He recognised old-fashioned charms placed outside doors like inconspicuous dried herbs, special knockers, and even a few flying brooms — which might come in handy someday.

The street widened, and Sebastian decided to just keep walking straight ahead where the houses grew sparse. Soon, he found himself on the edge of the village, in something like a tamed wooded area. Between the trees, he could see a few resting carriages on one side, a distant farm, a shed on the other side… He kept walking.

The morning was warmer now, the trees grew thicker, and he took his cap off to lean his head backwards as he walked. Sunlight dappled his skin, peeking between the leaves. The ground beneath him was soft with fallen flower petals. They were mostly chestnuts there among just as many oaks and a few sad grey beech trees.

He found himself surprisingly enjoying it. He’d gotten so used to the crowding of buildings in Diagon or Knockturn Alley, like crooked blackened teeth, and even to the tight packing of muggles on the London streets, that he tricked himself into thinking he could be at home there — certainly more than in old Feldcroft, with its uncomfortable memories. But this, this was pleasant…

He still thought this life boring though, the little village existence with its dull people and nothing to do and nowhere to go and no way to become somebody… He thought that, and Mr Macmillan, and Professor Vane — none of them would like it as more than a curiosity, a passing eccentricity but ultimately insignificant, just like all the people who lived there. He caught himself thinking that and wondered whether that was Vivian’s opinion, or his.

With each step, loud with flowers and crackling with branches, and a chorus of birds overhead, he felt more ill at ease. How could he think that? How could he think that… about her? Because she certainly wasn’t insignificant to him.

“Perhaps it’s better if she were,” he said to himself with a note of sadness.

A person like Vivian would certainly not allow himself to fall in love with her, and wasn’t that wiser? She certainly seemed to have little interest in him and Sebastian found himself drawn to her the more she drew herself away.

Their conversation the night before in the kitchen still echoed in his mind, and pained him. It was mercilessly clear that she lived in quite a different world from his own, and what was worse, she thought he could be swayed to join her. That, for a taste of peace, he could abandon the depths of the dark arts, the taste of death and power, his joys and his desires.

“She’s just like Ominis,” he thought with a sad smile.

Well, what Sebastian was unwilling to do, Vivian could… attempt. It was typical of the wealthy, wasn’t it, to be two-faced in that way. Whether one called it being decorous or, in fact, duplicitous, it all led to what they valued above all else, which was a certain flavour of social harmony.

And he certainly wanted to be in harmony with her…

He walked until he was so deep into the forest that he could no longer feel the road beneath his feet, then turned around. Checking his watch, he saw that it was 6:30 — he’d be home in time for breakfast.

The forest woke up all around him too. As he walked back, he could see butterflies flapping through the air, squirrels fretting on their branches, and even a couple of hedgehogs crossing the path. A childlike wonder came over him again, like being back at Hogwarts exploring the grounds…

He found it harder to walk back as Vivian Macmillan than as plain old Sebastian. It was easy to play around with the idea as he had walked away, but walking back to her, he realised there was something frightfully, delightfully real in his heart — and it would have been the worst insult to tarnish that with a lie. He felt something for her, he truly did. From her quiet elegance and domestic softness to her daring and acuity, he saw in her a complete person, one who held so much inside — if only he was allowed to reach it, to touch it, to take it...

It had been a comfort to speak to her so openly, even if she didn’t always understand or agree with his choices, but at least he could speak and be heard. And get to see her, and touch her, and taste her every time she let him kiss her hand.

It was, indeed, harder to see her little house approach up the road and pretend to be Vivian Macmillan. He didn’t wish to imagine any other man returning to her home than him.

By the time he got there, the chickens were awake. He could hear them clucking in their part of the garden on the left side of the house. Peeking over the fence crawling with thorny roses, Sebastian saw them picking at their food — she must’ve fed them already.

“Are you at the wrong house, Sir?” came a rough little voice.

Sebastian looked around and eventually spotted a woman leaning over the open window on the first floor of the house next door, looking straight at him while she was airing a pillowcase.

“Excuse me,” he said, “do you mean me?”

“No, the lad next to ya,” she laughed.

He could tell she was a witch, probably the neighbour he’d heard of before.

“Do you happen to be Mrs Berta?” he asked with a grin.

“Well, I see we’re well acquainted then, aren’t we?” she chuckled, leaning further over the windowsill. “Only I don’t seem to remember meeting ya.”

“Then I hope someday you will meet me.”

Sebastian smirked, tipped his cap at her, and stepped inside before she could give any retort.

He walked in quietly, wondering where his host was. A rustling of porcelain sounded from the right.

He leaned over the edge of the wall and saw her from behind, bent over, at his door. She was placing a breakfast tray down, and seemed undecided on where to leave it right outside his door, or to the side — worried, perhaps, that he might step in it when he came out.

He leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, watching on until she got up, assessing her work — she had settled on transfiguring a slipper into a little stool and placed the tray on top of it, to the side of the door. She stood with her hands on her hips and seemed quite satisfied, then turned around with a smile on her face, and that’s when she saw him. She gave a startled little gasp.

“Apologies,” grinned Sebastian, “I didn’t wish to interrupt you.”

“Seb— you were out?” she said, taking in how he was dressed. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” he shrugged. “I was just admiring the view.”

She paused for a moment, then gave him a sideways glance. Sebastian took it with a cocky smile.

“Well then, you might as well have breakfast with me,” she said, picking up the tray to take it with her to the kitchen. “I thought you were still in bed.”

Sebastian took his coat and cap off, and hung them on the hook by the door.

“I woke up quite early,” he said, taking off his boots and placing them with the others in the little cupboard by the entrance. “Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I might as well take a stroll, see the neighbourhood.”

“And did you?” she asked from the kitchen as she set the table up for two.

“Not really,” he laughed as he joined her. “I just walked on until I reached the forest, then kept walking. It was… rather peaceful.”

She smiled up at him in a warm, mysterious way, then went to open the window. Fresh air chilled the kitchen, breezing further into the living room and bringing with it the scent of flowers and fresh laundry. She stayed at the window, eyes closed, head tilted back, and let the sun bask her face.

They sat down for breakfast together, which consisted of sausages, oatmeal, bleak tea with milk and honey, buttered toast and marmalade, and boiled eggs. Sweetie did not join them this time, unfortunately — probably still asleep after his nocturnal adventures.

“I apologise if this is a little piteous,” she said with an awkward smile as she pealed her egg. “I don’t tend to have a fancy breakfast when I’m by myself.”

“If it’s piteous, I can hardly tell,” said Sebastian with a comforting grin. “Can’t even remember the last time I had breakfast.”

“Oh I don’t believe that…”

“No, really,” he laughed. “In my profession, I tend to work nights most of all, so, breakfast is usually something I skip.”

She looked at him from the corner of her eye but seemed to believe him by now. Her gaze turned to one of pity.

“Besides,” said Sebastian as he cut into the sausage, “I’m certain the breakfasts you and your brother had were quite hearty, weren’t they?”

She paused and looked at him curiously for a moment.

“Unless, I suppose, he wasn’t a big eater either…”

“Oh, he… he was,” she said, seeming a bit upset by the conversation. “I mean, he still is, I’m sure, somewhere…”

Sebastian looked at her from above the rim of his cup of tea. “I take it you still haven’t heard from him…?”

She shook her head quietly as she focused on her plate. She seemed rather sad… and scared.

Sebastian nodded. “I wish I could help you more…”

With the excuse of eating her breakfast, she smiled silently and shook her head again, her warm gaze meeting Sebastian’s. He couldn’t help but wonder what was behind that silence, that tight smile, those sad, unwavering eyes… He knew so much of how she felt, and it pained him that they couldn’t speak openly about it, wouldn’t allow themselves to…

‘And whose fault is that?’ he thought to himself, chewing morosely as he looked back down.

The breakfast was conducted under a sort of mournful silence, each in mutual respect for the presumed losses of the other — respect which, at least to Sebastian’s heart, was resented. He respected her as a host, that much was certain, and even as a client of sorts — he had yet to tell her that the cursed necklace was still in his trunk — but as a person, respect felt… underwhelming.

His brown eyes slid up to look at her again while she finished eating, her eyes downcast, her thoughts distant. She looked so pretty with the morning light shining right on her, like an angelic being or a garden fairy in stern dress. Her face had the flush and fullness of a good night’s sleep, her hair was soft and elegantly pinned, and her eyes, although they no longer looked at him, were so much sweeter and larger when she was sad… He didn’t know if she did it on purpose, but he found himself enjoying that look on her to a degree that he felt quite guilty.

Sebastian finished his tea and coughed politely in his fist. It got her attention.

“What plans do you have for today?” he asked.

“No plans in particular,” she shrugged. “There’s some sewing that needs to get done, and have the bed linens changed, and decide what to do about lunch and dinner… But those should be quick to do with a wand. I need to tend to the chickens later in the afternoon, though, and that’s more delicate work,” she chuckled.

“Yes, the neighbours have eyes everywhere, don’t they?” Sebastian smirked. “I met one of them as I came in.”

“Which one? Bertie?”

“I think so.”

“Well, it’s not her we need to worry about,” she grinned.

“Do we not? She seemed quite suspicious when she saw me coming in,” he said with a teasing tone of voice.

“Oh dear… I hope she doesn’t think — well, she’s a good friend,” she said with a definitive nod. “There’s nothing to worry about from her.”

Sebastian smirked as he fiddled with the fork among the eggshells.

“And what do you plan to do?” she asked after a few moments.

“I have an owl to send,” he said, looking down. Then, after a few moments and with a more cheerful tone, turned to her and added, “I can help with lunch as well, if you trust me.”

“Oh, have a guest cook?” she laughed. “Never.”

“It’s the magic that will do it,” he insisted. “Come on, let me try…”

She frowned at him, but kept her smile. “I shall think about it,” she said, a transparent and diplomatic “no”.

Sebastian sighed, but didn’t press the issue. He turned his gaze to his empty plate again. “And tomorrow?”

“Much of the same, I suppose,” she shrugged.

He hummed. “Since you’ll be quite free around the house, then,” he said at length, “and since you seem to want to escape your neighbours quite a bit… how about we go for a walk?”

“A walk? Where to?”

“Just around,” he shrugged. “I much enjoyed the woods around the village… If we have the same weather tomorrow, I think it would do us both some good.”

She paused and thought about it. Perhaps she was so well accustomed to the surroundings that they were not remarkable for her anymore, or perhaps she was not one for the outdoors… She was quiet for so long that Sebastian prepared himself for rejection, but —

“Alright,” she said in the end, turning to him with a little smile. “That sounds lovely, actually… Yes, we will walk together.”

[feralghxuls]

i know exactly what the secret series is and you know damn well i'm here to ask for snips. from whichever one you feel like, i just. i need to know. i need to see inside that folder.

>:3c

you asked for snips from when dew is really worked up about everything and i have one wip that works perfectly for that. you're gonna get more than one snip because out of all the documents in that folder, this is the one i wish i could release into the wild

He’s well-slicked from the dream, enough to go ahead and add a third finger, rocking down onto his own hand, his jaw going slack as he moans into the sheets without restraint. It feels good, but it’s not fucking enough. 

Dew lets out a growl of frustration and throws his body upright, rising to his knees and letting them slide apart across the sheets until he’s sinking back down to where he can comfortably ride his fingers, sliding his other hand down his stomach to rub at himself, harsh and quick. He’s been shifted for days now, and while he doesn’t normally spend long like this, he’s quickly learned the most efficient ways to get himself off, what he can do to himself that usually gets him a few minutes of satisfaction.

He’s chasing his release, fucking himself hard and fast and he can hear how slick he is, loud in the otherwise silent room. It doesn’t take him long to build up that simmering heat in his belly to an intense burn that courses through his pelvis, bursting up through his belly and then his back is arching and he’s letting out a feral sound as he comes, clenching down hard on his fingers. With effort, he fucks himself through it, feels a different kind of pressure begin building before he even begins to come down, and then he’s coming again, gushing over his hand and onto the bedspread. He stays like that for a long moment, head tipped back in momentary bliss, pulsing around his fingers as the aftershocks wash over him, and he waits until his cunt is finally still before he pulls his fingers out and sinks down to rest his ass on his heels, posture slumping as he catches his breath. He can feel his heart thumping in his whole body, but the release has only helped for approximately four goddamn seconds; he's already throbbing involuntarily at nothing. He lets out a whine that sounds pitiful even to his own ears and wonders if one more would leave him any more satisfied. It probably won’t, but it’s worth a try. 

He turns, avoiding the wet spot in the center of the mattress, sliding over the side of it until he’s sitting on the floor with his back against the bedframe. He spreads his legs and lets his head lean back against the mattress, jumping straight to four fingers. He doesn’t bother starting slow, setting the pace as fast as he can get his hand to move, hips rocking desperately. He can hear the keening sound he’s making, knows he’s probably stinking up the whole wing, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to feel satiated for more than five fucking minutes. 

He’s in the middle of his second orgasm, muscles clenching and his back arching, hips lifting up off the floor as he comes, drenching the thin carpet in front of him – when the door opens. His eyes have rolled back in his pleasure, but Dew manages to wrench his head up to see who the hell is barging in unannounced, and he really shouldn’t be surprised to see that it’s Rain. Dew lets out a feral sound as his hips kick one more time, a pathetic little spray splattering the floor. He melts, boneless, letting his head loll to look at Rain. The fuck do you want, he mutters, unable to muster up the usual fight.

He can’t help it. He feels blissfully invisible, and it’s far, far too easy to let his vision unfocus and pretend he’s alone, to grip at the edge of the chair between his knees as he rocks down onto the plug, desperate enough to grind against his own wrist and it feels so fucking good. He’s not even aware he’s whimpering until he feels Rain prod sharply at his thoughts. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he forces his gaze to focus enough to look across the table at him; Rain just fixes him with a stern look and it’s enough to make shame roll through him. He feels appropriately chastised for approximately three seconds before it rolls right back over into lust. His fangs break through the skin of his lip and the sudden burst of bright copper taste on his tongue isn’t helping things in the least, but he manages to swallow back what’s sure to have been a pitiful sound. 

Dew manages to reduce his movement to tiny, unsatisfactory circles until the food is served and Rain’s attention is otherwise occupied before he’s grinding down onto the plug again in earnest, his awareness narrowing down to the waves of pleasure burning hot through him. He doesn’t have the presence of mind to even pretend to give a shit if Rain is paying attention to what he’s doing or not, assuming that he’ll stop him the second he notices. Dew doesn’t get stopped, though, and he’s safe in the security that he’s home free. Heat coils tightly in the pit of his stomach, rolling through him as he shifts his hips and finds the perfect angle, his muscles starting to tense and he’s so fucking close and there’s no way he’s not moaning like a whore, but he doesn’t care, all he cares about is his release, he’s right at the edge, just needs one more push – 

Rain slams into his consciousness, one single word blasted into his brain: Don’t.

Rain finds him almost immediately, tangled in the underbrush, just lying on his side in the dirt, chest heaving and his eyes wild and dazed as he watches Rain approach. He looks pathetic, with leaves tangled in his hair and his face flushed, mouth slack, raising his hips into the air and letting his tail fall to the side.

Rain crouches over him, momentarily overcome with the urge to give in to what Dew so desperately wants, give in to his instincts and mount him right there, but instead he reaches out to cup his cheek and relishes in the whimper he gets just from that touch. There's no resistance at all when he reaches for Dew's thoughts to say, You really think I'm that easy, huh? Get up. 

He keeps his expression carefully neutral, even a little bored as he watches Dew's eyes widen a split second before he scrambles backwards out from under him. He staggers to his feet and takes off, unsteady and stumbling. Rain follows at a leisurely pace, keeps his eyes on the place Dew had disappeared into the underbrush. 

Rain pushes through the same place Dew had, disappointed but not surprised to find him bent over a log, ass up and legs spread in a frankly extremely tempting display, desperately rubbing at himself through the fabric of his pants, but Rain steps over to him and hauls him up by the back of his shirt, shoving him forward again. Dew yelps and stumbles forward, making a valiant effort at running off again. He doesn’t make it very far before he lets out a feral howl and drops to his knees and shoves a hand down his pants, where it looks like he's ripped the fly open, frantically grinding against himself. Rain gives a warning growl, and when Dew doesn’t move he has to drag him to his feet and drive him forward into motion again. 

They do this again and again until Dew is trembling and heaving for breath, until he finally manages to dart off out of sight, his path zigzagging as he lists from side to side. Rain waits where he is for a moment, giving Dew some time to put distance between them and for himself to clear his head. He needs to stay focused.

It seems he's making more of an effort this time, but Rain still finds the shredded remains of his pants discarded among the roots of a tree not much further into the forest. He crouches beside them, reaching out to pick them up as he debates whether or not to leave them there. His nostrils flare as he catches the scent on them, and he can't help but lift the ruined fabric to his face and breathe in the thick smell of the slick Dew had left behind. It goes straight to his cock, and Rain has to wrestle with his self control to drop the pants back to the ground and stand. 

He tips his head to the side, eyes narrowing as he catches Dew's trail on the breeze. It's suspiciously like the odor of his pants, warm and salty and it draws Rain further into the woods. He knows Dew is nearby, it’s just a matter of finding him; Rain pushes a low-hanging branch to the side and emerges into a small clearing. Dew is crouched beside a large oak tree, one hand gripping the bark and the other between his legs. He’s a whining, whimpering mess, begging wordlessly as he fucks himself with four fingers, hips rocking erratically as he rides his own hand. It’s shockingly like the way Rain had found him this morning, and the sight sends heat coiling through him. Dew hasn’t noticed him yet, his eyes screwed up tight as he gasps and writhes. His claws tighten on the tree beside him, and it’s clear that he’s right on the edge of release but he can’t find that last push over the edge. 

As Rain watches, Dew curls his thumb in against his palm, shifting the shape of his hand and Rain feels dizzy as he witnesses Dew’s frenzied attempts to get his whole hand into himself, watches the way his fingers fold together as he works them in to the knuckle, throwing his head back and chittering wildly as he rocks his hips down onto his hand. Rain can see by the frustration in his knit brows and the tension in his body that it’s still not enough, even as he manages to get his knuckles into himself, and then the rest of his hand goes easy. Rain decides now is as good a time as any to make his presence known, stepping further into the clearing and chirping softly. Dew’s head whips towards him; bark splinters and shatters from the tree under the crushing grip of his claws. He’s gasping wildly, staring wide-eyed at Rain but he doesn’t stop fucking himself, and even at this distance Rain can see the blood smeared on his lips from where his fangs have pierced the delicate skin. The pure, instinctual need Dew feels floods his scent, makes Rain's head swim and his cock jump, but he forces himself to move calmly across the clearing.  He doesn't even have to say anything, he's just giving Dew a mildly disappointed look and he's arching up, throwing his head back and howling as he comes, his whole body shuddering as he sprays the ground beneath him like a damn fountain. His thighs are quivering with the effort of holding himself up, his hips jerking with the aftershocks, each one pulling little whimper from Dew. Rain kneels in front of him, resting a hand on his knee and waits for Dew to slowly lift his head and struggle to fix unfocused eyes on him. At the edge of his vision he can see Dew pulling his hand out, can see the way he throbs hard around nothing, and when he focuses on Dew's face again there are tears of desperation gathering in his eyes. Rain feels about as wrecked as Dew looks, but he just says, This could all go away if you just [REDACTED].

[spoiledleaff]

I Wanna hear more! I love that headcanon as well and I’d love to hear about the ghoulettes! /nf /pos

~owlish anon

yes!!! oh my goodness, absolutely, anon!! ♡ lemme tell you, i was absolutely dancing at my work station when i got this ask, haha!! i was really hoping someone would ask me about the ghoulettes!!!! :D i know i kinda set it up…? for someone to go ahead and ask me?? but still!!!! you did, haha!!! ♡♡

well! everyone welcome back to my usual bullshit of ‘dewdrop gets off on domesticity!’ this time featuring the ghoulettes!! :D one again, a bit of a warning for some suggestive, if not explicit content ahead!! it gets sappy and then filthy real quick, haha!! >:)c

✿ ＣＵＭＵＬＵＳ.

everyone can thank cumulus for dewdrop’s hair. you can’t change my mind. i mean, look at that man on stage? look at this man in fanart? that beautiful, long luscious hair? no. i refuse to believe it. this ghoul refuses responsibility for his appearance unless it’s for sex/personal gain or it’s forced on him.

needless to say, the biggest thing cumulus and dew will do together is hair related stuff, haha!! cumulus loves brushing and braiding dew’s hair, dew just really likes feeling cumulus’ wisps of hair in between his fingers. like a fluffy cloud!

the whole ordeal started when aether was away with copia and maybe a few miscellaneous ghouls in ministry business, and dew didn’t wanna spend the night alone, so he went to cumulus.

and, uhh, yeah! the rest is history really, haha! cumulus is much gentler and softer with dew’s hair than aether (sorry, aeth :’)), and dewdrop loves having those little moments of tender touches with another ghoul.

it’s gotten to the point where cumulus has a special hairbrush that she only uses for dew’s hair. i mean, nothing too fancy or anything! it’s one of those, uhm, gel grippy broad hairbrushes? but the handle is like a clear aquamarine color with little gold flakes that were casted inside the resin.

she originally gifted it to dewdrop, but dewdrop was so worried about scuffing it or straight up breaking it that he asked if he could keep the brush in her room.

whenever cumulus is away with papa on ministry business, dewdrop always shoots her a text asking if he can ‘break into your room’ and ‘steal something for a hot sec.’ he always waits for cumulus’ response, which is always a ‘sure, sweetness! just be careful in there for me, okay? but, help yourself, dew baby ♡’

(cumulus might be a bit more suspicious if it weren’t for the fact that swiss once caught the little gremlin in cumulus’ bathroom all wrapped up in a giant fucking towel, freshly showered, and making his way towards cumulus’ bedroom. swiss recorded a small video of dew hoisting himself on her bathroom counter and beginning to slowly brushing through his freshly washed hair with that aqua/gold hairbrush with a dumb little grin on his face. the video was titled, “what the heaven, lus! u tamed our local gremlin & not spilling ur secrets rn ????????????? >:p”. she saved the video, and still fondly looks back at it.)

with the secret knowledge of the video on hand, cumulus has also applied their routine to whenever dew bathes and asks for cumulus’ help with his hair.

and it’s not just the much simpler routine of cumulus simply brushing and braiding dew’s hair, or even the more extravagant process of combing lotions and serums through his hair either.

no, no. cumulus sits down by the tub with dewdrop, rolls her ministry sleeves up, and sets to work washing, conditioning, brushing, drying, just absolutely pampering dewdrop’s hair.

she’ll even stay too! she’ll help him wash his body and dry off too. even bust out some of her fancy skin care products and help him wash his face and care for his horns!! it’s honestly like a 5-star spa treatment, and cumulus knows that dewdrop needs it if the request is specifically coming from him. she always treats him carefully and softly and gently, but never like he’s fragile. and dew’s always immensely appreciative of the distinction.

but, well, uh, more often then not, dewdrop will start to get aroused when cumulus as him splayed out naked and in her lap and is working on detangling and drying his hair.

though cumulus never brings attention to it unless dew mentions it first.

“lus, ‘m- ‘m hard. uhm, can you… can you help me? are you interested in that tonight?” “dew, baby boy, sweetness. i wanna take care of you. all of you. of course i wanna help my favorite sinner out. just promise me i can finish braiding this later?”

so, cumulus gently pulls dewdrop’s dead weight up into her lap, situated his head right between her heavy boobs and unveils enough of one so dewdrop can play and suckle on her breast. his hands knead into the soft skin of her thighs and sometimes the sides of her plush tummy, and cumulus works on slowly and gently working dewdrop’s cock with a soft hand.

he cums when she scratches the sensitive skin of his scalp — that area where his skin and horns meet — and when she flicks her wrist that certain special way. he’s quiet when he cums, a soft mewling mess in cumulus’ arms. she’s quick to wrap her arms around him, swaying them softly as she peppers kisses into his hairline and tells him what a good job he did, and how devastatingly handsome of a ghoul he is.

dewdrop once admitted in a sleepy haze that for one reason or another, he wants cumulus to fuck him with the handle of that special hairbrush she purchased for him. he was surprised when she actually said ‘yes’! but! on the condition that cumulus gets to be in charge of preparation for that scene, and that she gets to spend as long as she likes preparing his hole with no complaints, and dewdrop knows from experience that means multiple hours of preparation for something as ‘small’ as a hairbrush handle. … she still said ‘yes’ though. …just seeing that hairbrush nowadays is enough to make dew’s cock throb.

he’s whipped.

✿ ＣＩＲＲＵＳ.

even though cumulus is certainly the ‘mom’ of the group, it’s actually cirrus who does the ‘mom thing’, haha!

cirrus adores photos! she wants photos of almost everything they all do together collectively. it started out as something she would do for zephyr: taking photos during tours and bringing them back to show the older ghoul all of their recent escapades! you can absolutely thank cirrus for the stupid fucking ‘we will adopt your baby’ photo.

but, uhhh, someone introduced cirrus to the joys of keeping some photos for yourself (*wink wink, nudge nudge, cOUGH COUGH-*).

but, moving on, haha! cirrus hopes to compile a big ole scrapbook of all of the different photos she’s taken. whether it’s during tours or even just a rare night out on the local town, chances are that cirrus has photos of every possible outing.

she adores sharing and bragging about her photos with other ghouls, siblings; hell, she’ll even brag about them to her papas! sometimes, swiss or sunshine might jokingly call her ‘imperatour’s sexy little mommy spy’, because she’s been seen sharing and cooing over her tour photos with sister.

cirrus also has a small circle of consenting siblings and ghouls with which she will also share her more… private collection of photographs. of course, she always asks for permission before indulging in that level of play! but it’s always so hard to tell her ‘no’ when how she asks for consent is literally so sweet!!

“oh, droplet, baby, do you mind if i show omega this photo of you riding my strap? don’t glare at me like that! do you see yourself, baby? sathanas below, with how your cute little pussy and nipples looked all perky and wet, i thought i was gonna squirt just watching you ride me! fuck, i am so glad i thought to take a picture! look at how hard your little boycock is, ugh!! i just wanna eat you alive some days, i swear—!” “fine!! you can show omega that one!!! photo, mistr— cIRRUS-“

it’s an oddly equally humiliating and empowering moment when cirrus takes the time to literally dissect which parts about this lewd, sinful, downright filthy photo of you that she adores with all her heart and her cunt.

it’s honestly come to the point where dewdrop will start to get wet whenever cirrus pulls out her phone camera, because that’s where dew knows she keeps all of her explicit photography. sure, there’s some sfw photos tucked away in her camera roll all over the place! but… well, it’s hard not to think of all the compromising photographs dew knows cirrus keeps when she’s grinning at him with that glint in her eyes.

(she always brings a disposable polaroid camera with her for the tours. she says she adores the ‘human quality’ it gives the photos, and old man zephyr appreciates the undoubtedly ‘cirrus touch’ to their collection of gifted tour photos.)

all it takes is for cirrus to wag her phone deviously in dew’s face for him to feel how soaked through his undergarments have become. and the worst (best) part is that she knows it too.

she’ll crowd dewdrop up against a hallway or a countertop, tap the rim of her phone case against his bottom lip with a sly grin stretched across those painted lips. she’ll grind her crotch against dewdrop’s and playfully gasp in ‘surprise’ when she feels his arousal for herself. that’s literally all it takes for dewdrop to feel weak in the knees, his doe-like eyes staring down the lenses of her camera.

cirrus is fucking desperate to get the most perfect, well-timed shot of dewdrop squirting. it happened once before, when cirrus was playing around with a vibrator pressed teasingly to the underside of dewdrop’s erect clit, the remote in one hand, and her phone in the other. but she was taking a photo of dew’s face at the time, and right as her shutter clicked, dew squirted.

haha!! she was so mad at herself that she fucked her cunt over dewdrop’s tongue, leaning over his body to cruelly press the vibrator harder over his clit and pussy folds.

✿ ＳＵＮＳＨＩＮＥ.

sunshine absolutely loves!! baking!!

it's not at all uncommon to catch sunshine and mountain baking edibles together for everyone else. if it weren't for sunshine's baking? mountain's weed wouldn't be half as good, change my mind >:)

sunshine always has so much fun with baking. it's her solution for everything, haha! depression? bake it away. insecurities? bake it away. celebration? bake! in need of a gift? bake! wanna spend time with someone? bake!!

she's really good at decorating cupcakes! they might not be the... neatest? but! the colors, the flavors, the little subtle touches and details? it's the whole experience that makes them delicious.

(ironically enough, she can't make 'sunshine muffins' for the life of her, haha! in general though, she much prefers making cupcakes over muffins >:0)

sunshine loves employing dewdrop's help whenever she thinks that he's been isolating himself too much or too often. she's not above just barging into dewdrop's dormitory and dragging him out and into the kitchen.

she'll plop him down on a clean section of the kitchen counter and get back to work herself. she'll ramble at dewdrop, never expecting a response but always overjoyed when dew chips in. if it's been a really rough time, dew will be kept in charge of mixing together the dry and wet ingredients, and making sure the mixtures don't burn in the oven while sunshine works on something else. sunny will also swipe different flavors over dew's tongue, ask him to try this or that, and ask what colors she should use for the decorations.

sometimes dew will ask sunny if she's baking anything while coming across her in the kitchen , and then ask if he could join.

maybe sunny has a little bit of this hc in her character as well, because i think she'd crowd dew against the kitchen counter and kiss him until drool is dribbling down both their chins. all over dew asking if he could join sunny in her baking, haha!

needless to say... dew's baking with a very obvious erection straining against his pants...

the baking session turns into a feel up section! sunshine pressing her cock against dew's ass, dew licking at a spare splotch of frosting that managed to find its way on sunny's cheek or nose, their tails brushing against the other's ankles, sunny peering over dew's shoulder to watch what he's doing with a hand groping at his ass, or even dew just 'casually' leaning back against the counter and slowly stroking his cock while sunshine pretends she doesn't notice. ♡

there's just something about seeing how excited sunny gets while baking with dew, and how she sweet she is when he doesn't understand some 'simple technique'. i mean, of course, the constant touches and sweet words help too... but there's something just so sappy about how sunshine's nuzzling up to him with praise constantly falling from her lips that makes all that blood rush south, haha!

by the time the pastries are properly in the oven, both dewdrop and sunshine are sporting the most obvious pairs of erections possible. fucking dorks are circling each other like vultures, haha!

as soon as that little oven door clicks? sunshine is pouncing on dew, ripping their trousers off, hoisting him up into her arms, half in her grip and half on the counter, rutting their cocks together with some ingredient as questionable lube, and all while dew's begging for sunshine to just shove that fat clit of hers inside his ass hole and make a living wreck out of him.

with baking on the mind? and... creating in general? more often then not, sunny's spouting filthy words about creampies and breeding :)

"fuck, sunny, sunny, please! please just fuck with-" "yeah? gonna shove my pretty, fat fucking clit into every single hole you have. fill you up with all this cream i have? just waiting to be pumped into those tight holes of yours. gonna decorate you with my frosting, fill you up with so much cream your womb's gonna be like an oven. a slutty little fuck-oven, hah! gonna cream inside this hole of yours and lick out whatever leaks. devour your hole like a stuffed donut-"

(it's a little cringey sometimes...? i mean, who knew how many baking puns could be so... sexual. haha!)

depending on the timer leftover on the oven, sunshine almost always dives back in for seconds, haha! ♡

✿ ＭＩＳＴ.

this one’s very self-indulgent, i will not lie, haha! but, mist is the ghoulette everyone goes to in order to get their claws painted to perfection. she has one of the most steady hands and aim amongst the ghouls, and she’s ambidextrous as well, so even her own claws always look painted to perfection!

so, mist absolutely loves painting everyone's nails and doing little designs on them! she's always complaining over how boring everyone's nails are. human nails have that dull nude color? and ghoul claws are really just various colors darkened to a near black shade. it's boring!

mist has all of the supplies. whenever the ghouls hit the town, she's almost always coming back with at least three different vials of new nail polish and another haul of nail art materials, haha! she could honestly open her own business within the ministry, she's honestly amazing! she has the extensions, the uv lights, the stamps, the cutouts, the brushes, the tape, you name it! it's honestly like her love language at this point, haha! she'll even help trim and file your nails with you. :)

dew likes keeping his claws at a... nice in-between stage, haha! not nearly as long as rain's or sunshine's! but not quite as short as swiss' or mountain's. :) it's a nice relatively medium length for ghoul nails!

mist herself loves painting her claws in fun pastel color combinations! she seems to be wearing a different design every week. dewdrop likes having just a flat color for his claws :) but, he has certainly fallen in love with the shimmery, iridescent reflecting polishes. mist always picks darker colors for whenever she paints dew's claws, and he loves the dark indigo, dark magenta/wine, and dark cranberry colors the best! :)

mist loves painting dewdrop's nails while he's perched in her lap; or, at the very least, between her thighs. ♡

watching the amount of care that mist puts into making sure dew's nails are perfect always makes some kind of feeling stir in his gut and make him soaked. the way she handles and manipulates his hands definitely doesn't detract from his arousal either, haha!

dewdrop can always feel the way mist's hair tickles his neck and shoulders, the way her body molds against his, and how her tail always softly wags behind them before inevitably seeking dew's out and curling around it: he can feel it all, and it drives him crazy!

(it's almost intoxicating knowing how soft and kind mist is underneath her famous rockstar stage presence!)

but, holy shit, mist can and will catch onto dewdrop's growing arousal like a shark to blood in the water! she's insane for it! but, mist is absolutely the kind of ghoulette who won't take any shit for any reasons. least of all when it's in regards to something she is also actively interested in wrecking dew's cunt ;)

next she finishes one of dew's claws, mist would carefully cap whatever vial of color she was using and set it aside before grabbing dew's wrists in her hands and forcing him onto his stomach.

dew never really wears very much for his sessions with mist in the first place? so all she has to do is wiggle her tail underneath the waistband of his panties before expertly sliding them off.

she'll do her best to keep dewdrop pined with her one hand (though, not that the man is struggling too much, haha!!), before reaching between her own thighs and slicking up her cock with her own pussy slick. she'll spread dewdrop's cheeks before sliding her dick all the way into dewdrop's soaked cunt.

but then, she'll just stay there. she'll literally drape herself over dewdrop's back, reach for the nail polish and then just continue painting dewdrop's claws as though her dick isn't practically balls deep in his hole.

mist will continue painting dew's nails in that cockwarming position, just pressed flush against his back with her cock fully sheathed in dewdrop's wetness. sometimes she'll rut her hips against dewdrop's asscheeks, but nothing more. she's very insistent on finishing dewdrop's nails before fucking into him, haha!

"c'mon, little siren. stay still for mommy, yeah? i have to finish the second layer on your right hand, and then we're gonna do the top coat, droplet. maybe if you're a good boy and can wait, i'll be sure to breed your wet little hole so good, you'll be begging for more kits." "miiiist- you can't do all that now?" "hah! not until your nails dry, baby."

dew's a good boy, though! he always manages to keep his hands nice and still, and mist's efforts never go to waste on his nails.

in between allowing the layers of polish to dry, mist always takes the time to shallowly rut against dewdrop, nuzzling and nibbling at the nape of his neck.

in the final few minutes of dewdrop's final coat of clear polish drying, mist will sneak her tail to rub at the underside of dew's erect clit, purring with satisfaction when dew eventually shudders his way through his climax. and all without smudging his polish! :)

mist purrs her clear satisfaction, flips him over, and makes true on her earlier promise! ♡

✿ ＡＵＲＯＲＡ.

c’mon, guys, she’s so cute!!!! of course i couldn’t resist!!! oh! just in case, for those who may not know, ‘aurora’ is the name for the new ghoulette that i really like the most! so, this section will be in reference to the newest ghoulette member for the re-imperatour! :D

i'm still figuring out aurora's personality, but i very much like to think that aurora has a more... dominating personality? maybe that's not quite the right word, haha! but, for comparison i'm gonna default onto the 'family stereotypes', i'm so sorry. i think, if cumulus has a more motherly/gentle personality, and if sunshine has that sort of... little sister/bubbly kind of personality? i think cirrus has that sort of fun aunt energy/very open and extroverted personality? i think aurora is that borderline unapproachable older goth sister energy until you get to know her and then she's, like, your greatest confidant, haha! i also really like to think of her as being a water/air multi ghoul! so, just as a bit of context i think before diving into this! how i depict aurora personality wise is very much subject to change! but, i think to think i'm pretty happy with her so far though! :)

anyways! with all of that out of the way, i like to think that aurora loves giving massages to her partners! especially, like, those asmr ones where they'll deliberately trail their nails over skin or just tapping and caressing to make those sounds? yeah! ��that✨, haha!

she loves going after dewdrop (and rain) specifically, because of their shared water elemental link! :D she also loves to harass mist as well, but dewdrop's reactions are probably her favorites. ♡

dewdrop carries a lot of tension in the shoulders and all throughout his arm, she always says! he also has a lot of phantom pain from his water ghoul attributes having literally been scorched off during his elemental transition.

aurora loves massaging dewdrop's hands.

aurora adores cuddling up into dewdrop's side on the couch and snatching his arm just so she can run the very tips of her claws up and down dew's arm. she'll hold dew's hand in one of hers, and then dig the pad of her thumb in the spaces between dew's knuckles and working over his digits until dew's a fucking puddle at her side, haha!

it's amazing. aurora takes great joy in watching the practically immediate reaction of dewdrop literally fucking melting underneath aurora's touch. he practically starts smoking from his ears and has to suppress a goddamn moan when aurora digs into his inner wrist! ;)

dew will start squirming, maybe try and pull his arm away because he's getting hard, and so aroused, and aurora is so fucking aware of every little effect her caresses have on dew's little cock, she gets fucking drunk off of his reactions. aurora will always tighten her grip on dew's hand, purring softly as dewdrop inevitably gives up.

"oh, poor little firestorm, you always have so much tension in these hands of yours. i'm honestly amazed your fingers haven't fallen off, you poor baby! your muscles are just so tight, little spark. hmm, makes me wonder if there are other parts of your body that are just too fucking tight for their own good, yeah? poor little imp." "are you trying to fucking kill me, rory?" "hm? oh no. quite the opposite. i just wanna make you cum so hard, your soul leaves your body. oh, and all that worthless tension too."

aurora almost always takes care of dewdrop's arousal with a slow and methodical borderline torturous handjob.

she'll press her nose into dewdrop's temples, whisper huskily about how tense and tight dew's body is, all while dragging the sharps of her claws over dew's sensitive cock.

honestly don't think that she ever really grips it? aurora manages to tease dewdrop through an orgasm with only the tips of her claws. it's... insane actually. cirrus is always begging aurora to share her methods, haha!

her nails don't quite give dew's dick enough stimulation to cum ropes or anything like that, it's really just a quiet release. dewdrop's breath hitches as aurora's fingers tap over the blunt head of his cock, and he finally climaxes when her claws tease over his ballsack. his cock releases maybe three or four small dribbles of cum over aurora's wrist, but the combined efforts of aurora's teasing and filthy promises make dew feel as though he just fucking squirted.

aurora is very quick to get up, toss dewdrop over her shoulder, and demand that dew lets her give him a full-bodied massage.

[anonymous-witness777]

Nasonov

We cling to the dandelions’ edges west of the basswood stump, the grasses slumped and gone to seed, the dew-wet scraps of late-summer leaf-falls, while the must of petrichor and moss is on the air. For a moment one of us is solitary, joined with the distant clouds and pink-tinged sky, testing subtle pressure and humidity shifts, and then her message returns to us in pure chemical lucidity—a message something like the color blue or an open flower, or a limitless horizon from behind which intoxicating scents float. 

Now we are one again, fixed in wanderlust and a compulsive yearning that thrums with our wings, go, go, go, go now, we go now; this is our voice as it swirls below the hex-door, and we swarm out, the tendrils of a great sun at the honeyed heart of the world. How good it is to be among the Searchers.

We rove. Our antennae twitch, gently scraping the air and gathering scent-fragments—dust, soil, peeling bark, swelling fruit, grass, water, animal hair and blood, disease, one another. 

And—sweet, holy, inexorable—the flowers. Now, now, now, the ritual-hail burns inside; we fix on our flowers with antennae struck forward ..-.-. alone now. 

Joined: the flower and something with yellow fur on its back, something that wears no name. We (the flower and I) approach each other; it shines more violet than violet and speckled in pink. Smell like the deep beat at the wood-heart, the god-heart, the body lurched upwards to a green and wet heaven; yes, this is a dark one, dark and cloyingly sweet. It is the best. It is always my flower that is the best. Drinking, pressing, peeling back, and pollen-heavy stamens brush against legs and leave a holy residue. This is our exchange.

Then we pull away from our flowers and we are together again. Any kind of singular yellow-furred being is forgotten, but the memory of the flowers is fixed and shared with the rest. Each which gave good nectar we mark with a message, so that other Searchers may drink as well. Now the compulsive desire returns, go, go, go now, but it is not for something unknowable and wide-open. It is for the close, clear sweetness of home. An unbearable nostalgia washes through us. 

We turn back towards that great sun and hex-heart of the world, the daughter of the still-greater Sun which burns above, who is the mother of the flowers and of us. We will not turn towards that Sun until the end, and then—they say—we must make the journey alone.

--------------------

1.    Worker honeybees secrete Nasonov pheromone to guide other bees to nectar-rich flowers, or back to the hive.

2.    Honeybees often return to the hive before storms—it is uncertain how they are able to predict the weather.

3.    Honeybees can detect ultraviolet light.

[corduroygirl]

current lil wishlist ❀

i been buying too much shit recently so i wanna just go on abt the shit i want without spending money so i don’t drive myself insane i need retail therapy😍

amuse dew balm mini set - mainly wanted the ballerina and dew rose shades but it’s cheaper for the mini set than just getting both regular sized lol.

nobb bear waterproof concealer cream - i love the packaging sm :’) we as a society need to put teddy bears on everything 💆‍♀️

espoir no wear glow lip balm - the cranberry or shell pink >> i need lip balms this boston weather is chapping tf out of my lips😭 but i also wanna start wearing makeup again so tints are a good place to start

abib pine needle pore pad clear touch - i love abib🧎🏻‍♀️before i got into skincare i would use toner pads like this on my face and nothing else. it was working for a while LMAO but i want these to keep in my work bag at least so i don’t have to worry abt a lil cleanser spilling in there. and this is one of the few products for oily skin that they have so🚶🏻‍♀️

melanie martinez crybaby perfume milk - no link bc they don’t sell it anymore :( ik there’s a couple dupes tho that i’d love to try. i remember when this dropped n the world shook. i have an altpress magazine from that time and there’s a sample in it n it smells so good idk how to explain it. wish she’d drop it again she’d make a fortune off of me fs.

glossier milky jelly cleanser - glossier is finally in physical stores😭 idk if anybody even really gaf abt this brand anymore but i like milky cleansers/body things so i’m curious to see if this’ll work for me

truly beauty boobie bundle - i love this brand but it’s not budget friendly at all i fear. i tried their coco cloud shave butter and ran out but it’s so good n smells like victoria’s secret’s warm and cozy scent. their moon rocks scrub is ok but i wanna try these too💆‍♀️ i don’t like how the containers are glass tho bc i’m always scared it’ll fall and break n i’ll step on the glass in the shower :’) but at least it’s eco friendly🧘‍♀️

fresh milk body cleanser - again i love milky things lol. in the pics on the website i love how it bubbles up n it just looks so nice🧎🏻‍♀️i like my current body wash (the kwailnara dalgona milk one) but i like trying new stuff

[libidomechanica]

He plungd in place, embroiderd in Lightning in his tuning head

A limerick sequence

               1

‘You were none you by a soundless cup. When I smile. My Lord, with a kiss, and    suit? For Wintergreen Shalott.    The moon. Is thy love to sight was they raised, but to call Chance!

               2

As dew in aprille, þat fallyt on þe sprang elate! The Peers and Wesley,    and two: she trees and    summer loathsome. In my attic and into find Liberty?

               3

And a whole sea and clings to you. That piano? Just in Air, she dead for    the yill. Hairs less a slight    us, for sometimes shou’d expressing, and body the spring.

               4

Permit me, Julia’s breath of the poppy falls for Nisus’ injur’d Hair!—Ye    may read, is leaving you    are made more; which hath no break, and more will I, with his her breast!

               5

’Er she leaves springtime, the same thoughtlessly, from him for the general constructed    in feeling soundless    main to wash away, and Nymph! Company of the Wits again!

               6

And my life, climbing. By the prostrate Ace. Are very court to shame! I have    you thumbed, thrust, jutted this    Morning Omens their dressed around this great green, your mouth be heir.

               7

This Nymph there wherein the yellow-leaved vine, and hush’d, confus’d, he stone bag    man, garlic in the midnight    Militia of the silver. Goddess, I do vow and kitsch.

               8

If, dear self, in the children outside the stood, before are this bold Sir Plume    repair, half-taught me to    her Desires of fine boy. Oh hadst thou were none of the Cards.

               9

When there touch that once Ulysses held the happy crowd the sages. Or caus’d    Suspicion when still readers    e’er would not be when I’ll be our tale, of Amminadib.

               10

Above a girl, her pocket-book and quite of a mayden was never dauntless,    flaming, the marge us?    The top of the granted of mine. The marge us? Mt.

               11

Being silk or taffeta, which fell their desire. Vouch for one small reade    in the helmet flows, ’mang    moors and where none, no lute, the rolling told me upon a stream.

               12

Yet all their Charms, as I was not in the rest lurk’d in vain! Thy mother crown,    but little question with    all above me weary road, yet how to the Tartar, England!

               13

Being sitteth silent sighes breast a frown of peopled hell in think of    scream from History. I do    not so great business, tremblings and Dukes, and wins oh shameful Chance!

               14

As this I may desert sky? But Lilia please alike. Unto the same,    his pompous Robe, and hear    planet chiming clears today of those nineteen who fly arise!

               15

Sometimes barters; the yellow-white. How cloth’d; how sunk beside his house, thou know    then, lastly, let me sleep    the arm’d with these Labyrinths his be their haram educate.

               16

My soul is mine, and round mere can but that such a day of your name as if    in doubting Wits are a’    my Nanie, O. I would make breathing of their skill. The other sea.

               17

The men on the late rain, me of the face by hear two women, gallant fight,    and He approach. Which long;    and will soon shall pall that is thy beloved, and, one sweet stream.

               18

I haue I called The Witch. And each high, and mortality arise like a    buttercup until,    afterwards for the Soul was strong the ghost nor smilde wherein I fry?

               19

Come, commands that horror, that her Eyes half equal to show? Goddess! Your cool    and going told him whom    he sport half to him. Let go. Find none lovely April of love.

               20

Of this pompous Robe, and the Dog Star I saw it for all the treason, from    her wide quiet nest, coming,    taking like a Bow, but I found it thus let us taste!

               21

A prophecies, a mortgage on Humanity’s shape. That single sorrow    will try gainst me ours is    a hands. A version brought of the will not even death is mine!

               22

This touches back. In search of solitude and after thee, his she rain is    over and I worried    you like it and in the general directed? In love. And I.

               23

I gave us were therefore do you betray; for the last, your conversations    on, when the sky; fair-    haired and pray. ’From Constitute of Air; the space of my body.

               24

That bare three in the photographs from Day’s detested some secret Truth!—Jamie,    come and rainy, O;    but when all a primrose, and all that which long line of sugar.

               25

Thou my blissful clouds refuseth, giuing from the village green and mow’d down to    the moon. Ah, my beloved    is mine stray Bird one sour as a suddenly wonder Box.

               26

I traveling songs with encrusted boots, child! Of trees and swept the Sword-knots Sword-    knot Sylvia’s Hands she    wakened. Just in Glory of the wretches fly, to steal to me.

               27

It’s ye hae wooers mony a merry drawling as it out and knocking of    the leopards. But if you    need not its earth forth by the dismal Domes, and which is the land.

               28

My thoughts that at one telling tears, and ancient hand did makes many men. This    I best friends old shipwrecked    it simple sentimental, swore the Lady of Shalott.

               29

A different behind her for the dawn of love. His green dale: but as the smelling    but yonder a jonquil    cheek where Lucy played by thy lute, the deep as ocean’s foe.

               30

Save breed a loathing over: you’ve already mixed. And no more, speaks no maner    grow; but which stick in    the red charmeth they read o’er the fruit then I once thou would be.

               31

For that. Into capitulations fly, to find my lovers long with human    love: blue, silver Vase    in your orange that to triumph now impart as sacred Nine.

               32

And in the gravel. Of silver, think and break and flower, like a hawk    encumbered by women with    all the Crown the early enough strawberries clusters by Night.

               33

In equal Curls, and fairies, bayonets, bulletin. Did round their local    life was enthusiasm    and dank, with splendid stream that I shall live some director?

               34

But wilt thou desire. He lifts the banqueting stream of social wrong; all    aloud full gallop, drew    in chiefly was old, its lines there were never fair Nymphs resound.

               35

Are very silence of sleep, thy love. The out his mother’s Hand is a letting    its limbs. Which never    blamable, who would not you planned, known, of one another breasts.

               36

It canniest gate, the fetish boutique, those tail’s a ditch. Some forth heroes fought,    of slumber of pleasant    things right passes for newspaper prais’d nor shame! Some boatmen near.

               37

Oft I here such a hey, and heart in you. To waken doubt few reade, must a    Victor cry’d insulting    Grace, and for all but—nothing thorns, so is my paines my care?

               38

That brings she said Almost everyone else shall quickly, we must. Hear men say,    white Breath may calm-breath; scatters    are rarely to so base a vice. And their banner of Day!

               39

Boils of it for glory! Clarinda, mistres of thy jealousy? This, folly!    Nothing hath she, whence    for the eyes or once for the way in which is most sacred Nine.

               40

The voice, sweet fruit, and I lie here a whole world enough, between the devil    now not, but the palm? Ay    from my soul, and floor of that camouflaged tip into its wound.

               41

Like rain, which is Solomon’s. Far more and tree, I shall if there was mawn, and    breath this Locks first cast lives.    That done, to shatter you are made in our planet fix my woe?

               42

There is no more glittering gentle friends; drink, yea, the wind a whole lower    shall answer’d Camelot;    the sixteen call’d in Shades of a bird; nor walke; with dewy locks.

               43

Just the hermit’s Dreams, on her with that get broken utterly be confounded    by feare, of Amminadib.    Th’ Imperial Tow’rs, the three fire the time must.

               44

To a roe or a reading—’t is no maner grow; but with plunge in crimson    claim, a watchful Sprite,    venture their sweet. What if I burn in Cupid’s Flame mount Gilead.

               45

Here Files of the happy dove, seen me get thee so far better that I have    been a caring, in proud    brow, it melts. Thy beloved is gone, and plain and drove than I.

               46

Yet if you like two youth as wild beasts shall the mountains of doves’ eyes. The grot,    while melting fireships    and Heavens you and conscious Habits and to the Blaze of Day.

               47

This Canto, ere my right Order lay as death; jealousy? Sweet, to a race    of fools or heart. If falling    bade their head, a purse, a heart another can into speak.

               48

To be and all the fire is it, and chaste woman next my hearts wracke I reede;    I cry with please, ineffably,    let thy fair face the sultan, rich Repast. This to roam.

               49

Or I shall know, not Cynthia when well practice dying I thrown of Spleen.    Two captive Queens o’er the    prince de Ligne have your Friend! And man’s son doth know. Fair-haired and snow?

               50

My business, and Garters up, furious earth as will not sure if Homer    makes it difficult to    get therefore and flash’d thy complaining Chocolate to view its ray?

               51

How little hear the painting through earth of Fame in one alive, and barb’rous    Cause, and bids her Smiles offer    poison of the cloud … it must hallucination of Day.

               52

The open there for the tough Walebones crackle, and tho’ unseen, are    rather by the Danube    could poke enough; noons of Bonaparte! Is ever was loathsome.

               53

To shamefastness: none is black and quiver in the keeper of her Hand    four Knaves in happier    St. What may blessing! With its propitious Habits and tree, fruits.

               54

It is otherwise. I likewise, and though Mars no doubt in being pad, sometimes    Times iourneys, half language    no laws, we’re out of public build a faithless was, we safe.

               55

But so it was not be rash, nor thee. With golden anniversal loveth:    I held in slender Chains.    Their ancient Personal cupidity, say, the balmy Rest.

               56

It seemed to mar them. The Care of thy record after you; on Helen, to    which was born as yet beguile    our household king is head as he rode down to Camelot.

               57

Before a sprights of her lips of their efforts should mountain, dark-rooted flowers,    euen Stellas state-thing    that love my Lays. Thy golden Galaxy. Pleasant art thy mouth.

               58

The painted new heart may never more by provocation of various    Day. She said my Pray’r, th’    expiring Swan, and strange tulip, whiten, aspens shiver.

               59

Is not reaching admir’d remain’d in some Sylphs with Reproach. The loins engenders    pursue: ’twas a boy    of your pursue him whom fortune the Pow’r; four Knave of Shalott.

[legacyoftheogres]

9. The Velvetines

It was so early in the morning that color had yet to touch the world. Sunrise was still a few hours away, and the forest was still stained in greyscale. The Velvetine woods were largely silent, save for the low chitter of the occasional insect and the hoot of an owl, Thalanthe could hear each of her own footfalls on the soft dew-coated moss of the forest floor. The quiet was also punctuated by Moa's deep breaths, Thalanthe adjusted her grip and checked on her friend to find her fast asleep on her back. Sleep was the only time Moa looked peaceful, Thalanthe thought with a small smile, and remembered all the times they had made this journey together. Now Moa was too old to walk the full way and had relented to be carried for the first half of it. 

The first beams of light cut through the dense canopy as they reached the spring. Thalanthe gave Moa a gentle pat to wake her, whispering her name. Moa's eyes fluttered open, and she rubbed the sleep from them, stretching her sore limbs. As her vision adjusted, a warm smile filled her face. Both of them took in the sight in silent awe. 

Clear water, cupped in the old hands of the forest. The pool was surrounded by lush green mosses that clung to the surface of weathered and smooth rocks. Sheltered by the branches of twisting and gnarled hardwoods that had such a deep brown bark they almost appeared black. The white specks of lichen on them had always reminded Thalanthe of stars in the night sky. Jewel-colored damselflies flitted across the surface; their vibrant bodies reflected in the pool below. Thalanthe and Moa knelt before the edifice of the shrine rock, the words on its face carved in several languages and holding various protections for this sacred place. Each offered a quiet prayer, before rising and clapping their hands together twice in unison. 

Thalanthe carefully walked over to the oldest tree and placed a hand on it. There was a small feeling of static, and then she felt dwarfed by a large alien presence. She did not know how many years this tree had watched over the grove, but it felt almost timeless. It held the same mysterious infinity that her trances did, it was connected to more. It stretched out through time and space, flooding her with emotions and images she could not comprehend. She let them wash over her, fill her, and then let them flow away. She searched for it, the energy and magic that all living things had within them, the magic of the blood and distant stardust that had made all things, and channeled it from the core of her, through her fingertips into the tree. An offering for what she was to ask of it. The drain on her energy was immediate and stark.

It was Moa's voice that first pierced through the quiet, though textured and gravelly, it still held a beautiful resonance as she began to sing. Thalanthe joined her, adding her own ethereal notes to the harmony. Their words and pitch directed the tree, and voiced their request, the bark shuddered beneath Thalanthe's fingers, sprouting a new branch that began to twist and warp. It writhed and danced to their song, weaving itself into shape. As they finished their final note, the last bit of the branch severed itself from the tree, leaving them with a gift in exchange for Thalanthe’s energy.

Thalanthe offered a whisper of thanks as she lifted the small wooden bottle. To the untrained eye, the piece would have seemed impossible. There were no marks of carving on the surface of the wood, it seemed one seamless piece, made only of smooth wood that was without flaw. This was the secret of their clan, and their special bond to these woods. To sing the wood into shape was a difficult art and one that was kept closely guarded. Turning the piece over in her hands, Thalanthe admired it, she could not have made such a fine work without Moa's help and guidance, the old woman truly was a master of her craft. 

Removing the wooden stopper, Thalanthe dipped the bottle into the spring. As the cold water touched her fingers, the elf shivered. There was a spark, and suddenly her head spun. The pool in front of her was blood, not water, the blood of the earth. Within her own veins, visible through her skin, was clear and pure spring water. Reflected in the sanguine pool was a face, or perhaps faces, for they shifted from one visage to another at a dizzying pace, just as Thalanthe would begin to recognize one, it would vanish. The world snapped back, and suddenly all was normal again. Thalanthe blinked, once, then twice. It had been a vision, and much like her trances, she could not begin to guess at its meaning.

"Thala?" Moa asked quietly behind her, noticing her friend's stillness. It was enough to ground her, and Thalanthe capped the bottle and rose, bringing it to Moa. Thalanthe's furrowed brow and distant expression remained. 

"What did you see?"  Moa asked gently, taking the bottle from Thalanthe, and placing a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. Thalanthe told her of the vision, and Moa nodded and thought silently for a bit. 

"I do not think you have anything to be frightened of. Perhaps it was merely showing you a connection, though I can hardly guess what it might mean. This place is ancient, and the blood within you is old. My ancestors once said that this spring dipped all the way into the underworld, and that the roots of this forest grew so deep that they became trees in another realm. It has been full of mysteries as long as we have been alive to look for them. It is no strange thing that you, full of your own mysteries and forgotten stories from the long past, would find a kindred spirit here." Moa explained, placing the small bottle in her pouch. She gave her friend a gentle pat, and Thalanthe's face relaxed. 

"On Marza, there was a similar forest. I wonder if any of its roots reach here. In my dreams, I see a forest that is even older, it exists in a place both near and far." Thalanthe said quietly.

"I fear we lost many things we have yet to fully realize when much of your kin perished. If more of the elves had shared their history with the other races, perhaps less of it would be shrouded now." 

Thalanthe nodded in agreement, there were many questions she'd wished she would have asked as a child that now might remain unanswered. Such musings would have to wait, for they needed to get moving if they wanted any hope of returning home before sundown. 

"I can walk from here." Moa shooed away Thalanthe's offer of help. "I'm not that old." The woman gave a harrumph. Thalanthe's shoulders shook in silent laughter. 

"Let me know if you get tired." She offered and received only a scowl. The two of them continued deeper into the wood, which was now filled with birdsong. They were content to walk in silence, taking in the scenery.

 In the depths of the Velvetine, the trees grew so tall and twisted that the understory and forest floor were cast in an almost twilight. It was here that hundreds of mounds topped with small obelisks of stone were found. Some of them were so old that the words carved could no longer be read, others had been engulfed by the trees. A massive graveyard, one where all of the clan were buried. 

The Centipede Clan was the steward of the wood, and as much as they took from it, they returned to it. The final offering was that of the body, to return the flesh to the world and feed the trees. Thalanthe knew that one day she would bury Moa here, and wondered who would still be left to bury her if she lived a long life. She hoped the clan and its traditions would last another thousand years. 

Undai had only been buried a decade ago, but the trees had already grown their roots over his burial mound and engulfed part of the obelisk that marked his grave. It was a good omen, for it was said that the roots that stretched to the underworld would guide his soul to a place of rest. As a clan leader, he had been gifted to one of the oldest and largest trees. Thalanthe and Moa had visited each year.

Moa removed the bottle from her pouch and removed the stopper. 

"We offer you your yearly water, drink from the spring again as you did in life, may it strengthen your spirit as it strengthens our clan and this forest." She poured half of the bottle and then passed it to Thalanthe, who repeated the prayer before emptying the rest. They placed the bottle upon the roots and sang the wood back together. 

"Rest, Brother." Moa whispered and wiped a tear from her eye.

As the ground absorbed the water and left no trace of it, Thalanthe was reminded of the fleeting nature of mortal life. Swallowed up in a moment, just as the earth drank in the water and left the surface dry. All that would remain was the memory of its presence. 

Thalanthe would remember Undai's name and her love for him long after history forgot him, and when Moa passed she would carry that memory forward too. Her timelessness had not bothered her when there had been many to share it with, now, with so few elves left, it felt like a curse. Even Falthren would be gone long before her. It was no wonder then, that she was so drawn to Izura, who would be the only one that would persist alongside her and carry the same memories forward.  When they passed from the world, Thalanthe wondered if anyone would keep those memories alive, or if they simply would return to dust. 

[secretdew]

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