I Just Realized That Many Many People Have Jobs

I have this urge to sit him down and brush out that hair

Cos we don't get enough Per on ghumblr

boyfriends

Hyp! You said, so you shall receive! Ofcourse only if you want to do something with it but this lil shit has been rattling around my racoon brain for a bit. So, for you 🤲

Rain has the most delicate wrist’s. They’re not even the smallest in the pack, Aurora for example has teeny tiny, fingers overlap, kinda wrist’s.

No Rain’s are a contradiction of themselves, delicate and soft looking like precious porcelain but there’s strength in there too, there has to be because the bass is heavy.

His Ulna is very prominent and after he’s been playing for a few hours there’s a vein that curves around it, cradling the bone.

It’s also a terribly erogenous spot for him, Dew would know. He’s spent a hours staring, stroking his fingers over the delicate joints, imagining how he’d make Rain into a weepy little mess begging Dew to just do something, stop teasing.

Rains wrists drive Dew absolutely feral and Rain knows it.

Or something like that, idk. 🤷🏻‍♂️

this made my brain go empty for weeks but here i am and i bring food. loosely inspired by @miasmaghoul's fic on dewther watching the ghovie, hope u don't mind

does not contain any rhrn spoilers!!!

“Should’ve made you take the jacket off sooner,” Dewdrop whispers right into his ear with another slow stroke over delicate skin.

It’s stretched so thin over the bones of Rain’s wrist, keeping all the tendons and veins not hidden, but veiled nonetheless.

The water ghoul grits his teeth and digs his claws further into his own thigh. Well, not claws, considering he’s got them glamored—they’re surrounded by tens of unsuspecting humans, after all—but his blunt, perfectly trimmed nails. The same ones that are still flashing on the big screen right before them from time to time.

“I’d get to see those pretty wrists even more.”

Rain can do nothing but keep his head straight and his eyes glued to the screen. He should’ve known. He should’ve known his little mate would go absolutely feral seeing not just him in general in the cinema, but the close-ups of his hands. His wrists.

Why the delicate bones wrapped in fair skin were Dewdrop’s undoing, nobody’s ever learned, even though nobody could deny that every single part of Rain’s body is absolutely perfect. He carries the precisely carved out and yet so natural beauty of renaissance statues. For some reason, the fire ghoul’s favorite part of him is one of the unassuming ones and because of this his mate’s own body was conditioned to betray him every single time a reverent fingertip would be placed over that spot.

“Dew, you can’t–” Rain mutters when the music is loud enough to cover up his cracking voice. There’s nothing more he wants right now than for Dewdrop to go on and work him up and up until he tips over the edge, but they can't, they're in public. And the water ghoul knows he won’t be able to control himself if his mate carries on his teasing.

“Sure I can,” Dewdrop turns to smile at him and if Rain didn’t know better he’d call it genuine, sweet, innocent. The fire ghoul is all but that.

Dewdrop lets his glamor slip the tiniest bit, just enough for one of his nails to return to its natural state. He scrapes it over the middle one of Rain’s flexors, pressing it down just enough to leave a straight red line following the tendon. His skin is so delicate, it takes barely anything to leave a mark.

The thought makes the fire ghoul let out a growl.

Rain whines pathetically like a kicked puppy and throws his head back against the top of the cushioned cinema seat. Another clip focused solely on his own fretting hand flashes on the screen and the water ghoul wants to scream.

Instead he throws his free hand over his crotch, pressing down onto the steadily growing bulge to take some of the edge off. It doesn’t escape Dewdrop’s attention—just as the smell of the fire ghoul’s cunt in arousal doesn’t escape Rain’s.

He leans into his ear once again.

“It’s actually a wonder you’ve never tried putting your whole hand into me,” Dewdrop whispers, moving his claw up Rain’s forearm as he shakes in his seat. “We should try that later. Wanna see your wrist buried inside me while my slick is dripping down this pretty veiny forearm all the way to your elbow.”

The next noise the water ghoul lets out makes the entire auditorium turn their heads.

I mean the veil is on a separate layer so I might as well show this to u guys…mountain’s little Romeo

When it all burns down

When it all burns down

I will hold you close for the minute

For the minute

Mushy May Day 6: "You're Blushing"

Aeon and Swiss wake up after the first time they spent the night together.

Mushy May is put together by the lovely @forlorn-crows, and the divider was made by the wonderful @ghuleh-recs

This one does get a little suggestive, but other than that, no content warnings

The light filters in through the gap in the blackout curtains, a strip of sun landing square over Aeon's eyes. They whine, shifting as they wake, hissing when they open their eyes, the long injured one stinging in the light.

Aeon turns, burying their face into the warmth underneath them to try and hide from the rising sun when they realize it. Their mattress is a lot warmer than it normally is, even after a full night's worth of their body heat warming it. They open their eyes for real and just barely manage to bite back a squeak.

Swiss's staring down at them, golden eyes half-lidded and almost glowing in the early light, his bottom lip pinned between his fangs. He's been watching them sleep on his chest for Lucifer knows how long. "Mornin', buggy. You sleep well?"

Aeon feels a shudder run down their spine, all the way to the very tip of their tail, at the gruff sound of his voice, raspy with sleep. "Mhm," they hum, all of the memories from the night before filtering into their brain as they wake up a little more.

The way Swiss had wrapped his big hands around their hips. The just this side of pleasant soreness between their thighs. The ache of bruises on their neck and collarbone, trailing down their chest. The way he had made them show him just how flexible they were. The way both of their bodies are still bare, their clothes tossed in a haphazard pile on the floor.

A peal of laughter breaks Aeon out of their reverie. "Oh, I know what you're thinking about. You're blushing, buggy."

They dive back down, burying their face against Swiss's chest as they try to hide the way their face is flushing, probably nearly fluorescent violet at this point. His hand rests at the small of their back, his chest rumbling as he laughs softly.

"Aw, buggy, you slept so good you forgot, huh?" he croons, running a knuckle along the shell of their ear; it flicks against their head.

"Shuddup," they whisper, his chest hair coarse against their cheek. He smells of cinnamon and cloves and honey, and it's so intensely Swiss Aeon could almost cry.

"Nah, you're pretty when you blush. Wanna see it more."

"You're a sap, you know that, Swiss?" Aeon complains, though there's the obvious undercurrent of laughter in their tone.

"Course I do," he says, hand skating up their back to card through their dark hair. Aeon chuffs, shuddering as he gently rakes his claws against their scalp. "No point in hiding how I feel, bug."

He reaches with his other hand, carefully taking their chin between his fingers and tipping their head up. Aeon sputters before he catches their lips with his, soft and tender. When they break, Swiss pushes a strand of hair off of their forehead, and the look on his face is so fond it makes Aeon's chest hurt.

Aeon stretches, tail curling up like a cat as they bare their fangs in a yawn. Swiss curses as he yawns, Aeon's yawn contagious. His hand slides down their back, fingers just barely brushing the base of Aeon's tail. They jolt as electricity races up their spine, almost as if he had dosed them with quintessence, before bursting into laughter.

Swiss grins, nose crinkling up as he smiles. "Thank you for letting me into your bed, Aeon," he says, suddenly serious, but still smiling. "For letting me stay the night."

They chuff, ducking back down to tuck their face into the crook of his neck. He smells the sweetest here, skin warm with sleep. "Would you wanna stay?" They stammer, the blush coming back in full force; they bet Swiss can feel just how hot their cheeks get.

He tilts his head, rubbing one of his horns against Aeon's. "'Course I'd wanna stay," He hums, chuffing into their dark hair. "I had a good night last night, I'd like to do it again."

Aeon's tail wraps around his shin, squeezing the muscle gently, and their eyes flick up to meet his, one violet and the other a milky white. The spade of their tail taps against the mattress. "Me too."

Swiss doesn't reply, just stares down at the quintessence ghoul clinging to his chest, that same warm smile that makes Aeon feel like they're going absolutely insane.

He growls playfully, and Aeon yelps as they're flipped, Swiss leveraging his weight to pin Aeon on their back underneath him. Their chest heaves, staring up at him with wide eyes.

There's a glint in the multi-ghoul's eyes, and Aeon doesn't have a moment to process before Swiss lunges down, blowing a raspberry on the hinge of their jaw, just under their ear.

Aeon cackles, batting at his shoulders as he presses playful kisses up the line of their jaw. They can feel the scrape of his stubble against their skin, the way his cheeks dimple as he can't stop smiling. They don't mind waking up like this. They want to do it again, and again, and again, as long as Swiss will have them.

The way he's kissing them makes them think he wants it just as much.

Mushy May Day 10: Quiet Nights

A quiet night in the band ghoul den.

Much thanks to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for the divider.

After dinner leftovers are put away, dishes done and dried and back in their cupboards, Aether pulls his readers out of his breast pocket and heads to the common room. Rain and Cumulus are already there, having helped Mountain cook dinner.

The common room is typically quiet, these nights. Most of the others break off into pairs or just head back to their rooms alone, but the three of them lounge out in the common room for a little while longer. Mountain and Dew slip past Aether as he makes his way, and all three of them pause in the hall.

"I'll join you two in an hour or so. You don't have to wait up for me," Aether hums, pulling Mountain down for a soft kiss, and the earth ghoul goes easily. When they break, he turns to give Dew the same loving treatment.

"We'll keep the nest warm for you, starshine," Dew says, pressing himself against Aether's side for a moment like a particularly affectionate orange cat. Aether smiles and ruffles his hair, much to Dew's faux-chagrin.

"Have fun, nova," Mountain says, patting Aether's shoulder. Aether reaches up and squeezes his hand, and he heads to the common room as his mates head off towards bed.

He finds the common room as it usually is this time of night, ceiling lights turned off, a few lamps casting warm, gold light over the room. Cumulus settles cross-legged in her favorite arm chair, her thick glasses resting on her nose as she squints at a pattern, trying to make sense of the stitch abbreviations. There's a hook tucked behind her ear, a skein of yarn in her lap. Sunny's sprawled out on her stomach on the floor, her well-loved Gameboy in hand, the volume turned down way low.

Rain's on the loveseat, tucked into the corner, a well-worn paperback from the Abbey library open in his hands. Aether takes a seat on the other side of the loveseat, reaching over to the drawer in the side table for his crossword book and a pencil.

As soon as he's settled, Rain shifts until he rests his head on one of Aether's thighs, his knees hooked over the arm of the loveseat. It's a practiced motion, and when Aether feels the weight of him against him, something deep inside of him relaxes. He flips open his crossword book to the first unanswered page, about three quarters of the way through. It will be another week or so before he needs to get a new one.

He puts his readers on, reading over the clues as he starts to work. His other hand goes down, raking blunt claws through Rain's hair. He gets a glance at the spine of his novel, recognizing the cover as something Mountain was reading a few days earlier.

They exist together quietly, the only noises the scratch of pencil on paper, soft video game music playing, Cumulus quietly counting as she keeps track of stitches.

Aeon sticks their head in, noise-canceling headphones covering their ears and a Rubix cube in their hand. "Hey, guys?" All four of the other ghouls turn to look, and Aether glances at them over his readers.

"Yeah, pup?"

"Sorry, could I join you guys?" They scuff their shoe against the floor, trying not to shy away from the unadulterated attention of the others.

"Of course," Cumulus says, waving them over. They take a seat on the floor, back against the front of Cumulus's chair. Aeon leans their head back against Cumulus's shin, playing with the toy, the colors flashing underneath their lithe fingers.

Aether settles back into the couch, working on his crossword, slyly watching Sunny's gameplay. There's no obligation to talk, no masks that need to be held up physical or mental, it's just five ghouls existing together, and it's something that Aether cherishes.

It takes him longer than it normally does to finish his puzzle. That's just because every so often, he tucks his pencil behind his ear, making sure not to catch it on his piercings, and just takes it in. This is what they've worked for. Sure, spreading the word of the Unholy Father is rewarding in its own way, but this is something else, something almost more rewarding than the work, and Aether intends to enjoy every minute of it that he can.

Once he's done, he cards his fingers through Rain's hair one more time before putting his book and pencil away. Rain chirps quietly, shifting reluctantly so Aether can stand. "Good night, angelfish," he whispers, trying not to break the peaceful silence.

Rain squeezes his hand, fighting not to yawn himself as he gets comfortable in the spot Aether's vacated.

He steps, surprisingly quietly for a ghoul of his size, over Sunny, tapping her shoulder with the spade of his tail. She hums in response, focused on her game but still wishing him good night.

Aeon gets their hair ruffled, careful not to dislodge their headphones, and he bends down to press a kiss to Cumulus's forehead. She presses up into it like a cat pleased to receive affection, even though there's no shortage of love in this pack.

Aether spares one last glance back at them before he heads up the hallway to his room, the exhaustion of the end of the day beginning to creep in on him. There's a crack of light underneath his door, and he sighs as he steps into his shared bedroom.

"I told you two you didn't have to-" He starts, cutting himself off as he takes in the sight of his mates in their nest, fast asleep even though the nightstand lamp is on. They're both on their sides, Dew curled around Mountain's back, something that almost looks humorous given their size difference.

Aether smiles, big and warm, and he pulls out his phone, even though he has hundreds of pictures just like this. He knows his mates have pictures of him like this too, and it doesn't stop him from snapping a few before setting his phone and readers down on the nightstand. He changes into a pair of sweats, tossing his day clothes in the hamper before crawling into bed behind Dew.

Mountain shifts but doesn't wake when Aether slings a big arm around his and Dew's waist, but Dew huffs a breath, craning his neck to look back at him.

"Hey, starshine," Dew whispers, voice slow and sleepy. Aether leans in and kisses his cheek.

"Hi, baby. Sorry to wake you."

Dew hums and nuzzles back against him, knocking their horns together. "S'all good," he hums. "Glad I get to say good night, though."

"Me too." Aether gives him another kiss on the cheek, reaching over him and Mountain to pull the cord on the lamp. "Good night, love."

Light a Candle or Curse the Darkness

In the end, what would be your choice? The summer tour of 2005 does not go as planned.

Hey, it's the end of the as we know it and I feel fine.

Part Two

When does a dream become reality?

Or, when does reality become a dream?

Could you decide what would be that one defining moment in time?

I know I cannot.

There were just too many of them.

I still, to this day, cannot decide when this all became ‘real’. Was it when we first caught sight of the invaders? Those that had claimed to have been abducted had it all wrong for what had stepped out into the clearing on that warm summer night was nothing that one would think a space alien to be. Nowhere to be seen was the classic space creature, with its large eyes, short, gray-skinned bodies, and three-fingered hands. These creatures were something different altogether. Tall, human in appearance with eyes the color of a storm-tossed sea; their orangish-green skin shimmered faintly in the pale moonlight, casting an iridescent glow about them.

Beautiful.

Ethereal.

Dangerous.

Deadly.

Murderous.

Conquerors.

Destroyers.

I could continue like this forever, but they are just details that everyone should be familiar with by now. If not, lucky you.

Still, that was not the ‘real’ moment for me. Nor was the moment when our small group was sent arse over elbow trying to get out of the way of their idea of crowd control. There had been thirteen of us that had set off from that highway looking for help. Five Durans and Shelly, a young nursing student from the Midwest, were all that entered their ship. Watching the person next to you be vaporized, as in nothing left, not even the clothes they were wearing vaporized, is enough to make one think about how much they want to live. I know I still did at that point. Odd how time changes all things, is it not?

I won’t waste time telling of the journey to our new “home”. It was uneventful, and we spent the better part of it huddled in holding cells with several hundred other miserable souls. Voices in the dark whispered…wondering…questioning...praying.

“Airplanes falling out of the damn sky…”

“The Lord is my Shepard…”

“Have you seen Saul, my husband?”

“Where are they taking us?”

“…he leadeth me beside the still waters…”

“Did you hear what happened to the cities?”

“Who are they? Where did they come from?”

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”

“…the Armies have been destroyed.”

“…no one left…”

“I will fear no evil: for thou art with me…”

“No food or water for two days. For two days!”

“I want my mommy!”

“…space aliens!”

“…I will dwell in the house of the…”

“Wiped clean off the damn map…”

“Fuck, I need a smoke.”

From time to time, I have wondered what had happened to Shelly. She was separated from us not long after our arrival to the place that we would acrimoniously learn to call home and hearth.

Where were we? By the best guess of persons far smarter than I, it was decided that we had been relocated somewhere along the Pacific coast, probably close to the Canadian border. There were thousands of people in this camp. The invaders must have cleared out every small town and city they came across. Lord only knows how many more of these camps there are, or rather were. I fear that what has been happening here is only a reflection of what is happening elsewhere. Even as I sit here, writing, I can hear the screams and heavy rifle fire echo throughout the camp. And the whispered pleas for a savior. Strange, is it not, how people put their beliefs in a higher power? Stranger still, is the fact that these people go to their deaths, believing their prayers do not fall upon deaf ears. God did not help us when they came and I sure in the Hell don’t think he’ll help us now. This is one path I refuse, even now, to go down. I lost whatever faith I had a long time ago.

I figure by either tomorrow or later this evening they will be at my part of the camp, and that will be that. So sorry if this is a little rushed but Death is riding on the wind, and I think he is coming for me. Before I stick my spoon in the wall and roll over, I must tell what happened to my brothers. Brothers of my heart, even if not by blood. They lived, they had a life, and they deserve to have their deaths told, however poorly I might recount it.

~~

Nick. Nick was the first of us to go and we lost him almost right from the beginning. Of all things, he died from an allergic reaction to whatever they used to ink the barcodes. The process itself was not that bad. You held your arm out, they ran a scanner over it, a slight tingling feeling, and before you can say ‘Bob’s your uncle’, you are the proud owner of a new tattoo. In less than 24 hours after receiving his, Nick was dead. It started with an irresistible urge to scratch. We nearly went crazy trying to prevent him from digging his arm off. Soon, two large red streaks had snaked up his arm and across his chest and neck. John spent all night by his side, mopping Nick’s feverish brow. When the seizures started, we knew that the end must be near. In the early pre-dawn hours, Nick drew his last ragged breath and without a word, was gone. He was not the only one. There were hundreds upon hundreds who died in this camp from the allergic reaction. I don’t think our captors really gave a flyin’ fuck about it either.

Out of all of us, Nick’s death hit John the hardest. Beautiful, fragile John. During the early years it was still easy to procure things of, let’s say, of a questionable nature. Almost six months to a day after Nick’s death we found John overdosed on whatever it was he took. I guess Rehab didn’t cover a hostile invasion by space aliens, did it Johnny? The bastard. He took the easy way out. I never have gotten around to forgiving him for that.

It was not too long after that, that Andy found a small girl wandering through our part of the camp; she couldn’t have been more than three, if not younger. All Andy was able to get out of her was her name and that she couldn’t find her parents. Andy searched and searched for the girl’s parents, but they were nowhere to be found and no one would step up to care for her. He took little Laura as his and decided that he would care for her. When pressed for an answer as to why, all he would say was, “I can only hope that someone would look to my children if the need be. You have children of your own. Wouldn’t you want someone to look after them?”

I never would answer that question. I only hope my children did not have to live through this.

Time passed, seasons changed and each year the winters were getting harder and harder to survive. Lack of food, proper clothing, and poor living conditions was getting to everyone. Each winter, little Laura would come down sick, and each year it became harder and harder for her to shake it. And she was not the only one.

Andy and several other parents formed a committee and took it upon themselves to visit the camp Commander to request aid for the children. Surprisingly enough, they were thanked for their trouble and told that the Commander would investigate it and were sent on their way. By noon the next day, there was not any child under the age of fourteen left in the camp. The younger children were killed outright, while the older ones were transported from the camp. I don’t know where they were taken. Some say they were sent to other camps and still, others think they were taken off the planet altogether. Laura was only seven when they killed her. Perhaps it was for the best.

The committee members lived long enough to see the havoc they wreaked. Their heads, along with Andy’s, adorned pikes, lined the road to the Commander’s office for a very long time. I think that day was the day that the fight to continue living fled this place. So many families were destroyed on that dark day. So many hopes for the future were crushed.

That was four years ago, scary how time flies when you are being repressed.

Simon? I don’t know where he has gone off to. Despite the dangers of the camp purge, he went for a walk yesterday and has yet to return. I fear he may have been caught in the cleansing. Or he may be holed up somewhere, safe for the time being. Who knows?

~~

There. That is their story. Not much, is it? But it is all I have for you.

Why do I write this? I don’t really know. I have a sinking feeling there will not be anyone left to read this after I am gone. Maybe I write these words to prove that I was. That I existed. That I was here. My only regret, well two regrets, is the fact that I could not see my children and family one last time. And Emma, my beautiful dark-eyed girl, that I had taken for my wife only a few months before it all went to Hell. I really should stop rambling. Damn. Old age must be sitting in early. I have things to do before my time is up.

One last thing before I go:

I had once read that you can either light a candle or curse the darkness.

My candle burned out a long time ago.

I am not going without a fight.

I have made my decision.

I will curse the darkness with my last breath.

I am meeting with others from this block, and we are going to fight.

I don’t know what good it will do… But I am willing to find out.

Notes:

I wrote this like 500 years ago.