Isocyanatess

nanami is a disciplined man, a creature of habit. he wakes up early, gets ready for work with precision, and leaves the house on time. but there is one part of his routine that he refuses to rush—those ten precious minutes before he has to leave, where he gets to hold you, kiss you, and remind you just how much he loves you.

this morning is no different. the alarm has gone off, but instead of getting up immediately, nanami rolls over, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. you’re still half-asleep, curled up under the blankets, but you hum softly when his lips brush over your shoulder.

“i need to get up,” he murmurs, though he makes no effort to move away. his hand slides over your waist, warm and steady, pulling you closer.

“no,” you mumble, voice thick with sleep as you nuzzle against his chest. “stay.”

nanami exhales a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you know i can’t,” he says, though he sounds just as reluctant as you feel.

“you can,” you argue, tilting your head up so he has no choice but to kiss your lips next. he does, soft and lingering, as if you’ve got him under a spell. maybe you do. maybe you always have.

“ten minutes,” he whispers against your lips, a reminder for himself more than for you.

those ten minutes belong to you. they always do.

his hands wander, tracing over your back, memorizing the warmth of your skin. his lips press over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, before returning to your lips like he’s drawn to them. he whispers between kisses, voice low and reverent.

“i love you.”

kiss.

“i love you so much.”

kiss.

“you make it impossible to leave.”

another kiss, deeper this time, until he hears you sigh against him, fingers curling into his shirt like you’ll never let go.

“so don’t,” you plead, and nanami’s resolve wavers. it always does when it comes to you.

“you’ll be the death of me,” he groans, burying his face in your neck again. “if i call in, it’s your fault.”

“i’ll take full responsibility,” you promise, and he knows you’re smiling even with your eyes still closed.

he exhales, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips before finally—reluctantly—pulling away. “i’ll come home early,” he assures you, smoothing your hair. “and then i’ll make it up to you.”

“you’d better.” you mumble, already drifting back to sleep as he tucks you under the blankets.

nanami lingers at the door for a moment, watching you, memorizing you, before finally stepping out.

but even as he leaves, his heart stays with you.

I am so invested in your posts about Mountain and his pack of moms.

Does Mountain turn into a big kit whenever he visits them? Like a college kid who goes back home to his family during holidays.

- @ghouletteanon

(I did exactly two Google searches and these are the names for the previous drummers I found. I went with Terra over Gamma for obvious elemental reasons. I think there's three total? My inbox and DMs are open to any and all earth ghoul stans who know more than I do.)

Nothing terrible under the cut except the horror of knowing your parental figures have sex.

He knows Pebble's aware as soon as he sets foot into the deeper woods. The trees and mycelium networks are her eyes and ears, leaves rustling with wind-carried words to wherever she is. Not a single twig in this forest snaps without her knowing about it, which would give anyone else an incredible headache but Pebble seems to like it just fine.

And sure enough, he doesn't get but a yard or so before she's there. Sitting on an ancient log like she's been there the whole time waiting for him to pass by, even though he knew he'd been alone just moments ago.

She's all criss-crossed up from her arms to her legs, still as a statue as she watches him approach with his picnic basket. He doesn't say anything; he knows this routine well enough by now. Pebble can get odd, when left to her own devices for too long. The others are usually good at bringing her back to herself though.

Food helps too. Not the food she can scavenge from the forest like berries and mushrooms and prey animals eaten raw. Food that's been altered, baked, cooked. He lifts the cloth of the picnic basket and lets the warm smell of fresh bread waft out. Her nostrils flair and she stands up, quick as a wink. With one quick nod, she's off; darting through the undergrowth like a fox. It's on him to keep up, but he knows she'll come back for him if he lays behind too far. She'll get impatient but she'll always come back.

The path is different every time he visits. Some trick of Terra's to keep strangers out if they aren't guided in but he doesn't mind. He knows how much they value privacy and the time it takes to get to the destination is never too long. The undergrowth thins out, the trees grow further and further apart until they're in Ivy's garden with Ivy herself bending over to tug up a bundle of root vegetables. Pebble licks her fingertips as she walks over, delivering a loud and resounding smack to Ivy's rear end that Mountain glances away to avoid seeing barely in the nick of time.

"Pebble!" Ivy shouts, shooting up straight and cuffing the small menace in return. "Just once, a hello would be nice to hear instead of-"

"Hello." Mountain calls, walking between the rows to her with a wave. She turns around again and her happiness is so infectious that nearby plants immediately start flowering in response. Pebble takes the opportunity to dart into the little home that's been carved into the earth, set into the base of gentle slope covered in soft green grass.

"Mountain!" She cries, dropping her harvest into the dirt and leaping over the plants to catch him up in a bear hug. "Oh, I was just thinking about you! Terra was saying you were all back from tour, so of course we've been expecting you but honestly not so soon and-"

"Let that boy breathe." Comes a deeper voice from the doorway of the little home. Mountain straightens up automatically, brushing a few fly aways out of her face as Terra easily lopes over with her cane. She stops a few feet away, looks over him with a critical eye and he's acutely aware of every wrinkle and stain in his clothes, the way his right boot's come untied and how the flannel he has on now was definitely hers once upon a time.

"Suppose we'll have to take you as you are then." Terra says, a telling twinkle in her eye though her face remains firm. "What'd you bring us this time?"

"Harvest bread." He says, finally handing over the picnic basket. "Gooseberry and raspberry jam. Two kinds of cheese. Wine and whiskey and weed."

"Good stuff." Ivy says in approval.

"We'll see." Terra says. Then, "Pebble, don't you dare."

Pebble slinks out from behind Terra, hands raised in innocence even as her tail whips back. It's caught just in time by Terra's own tail, wrangled into submission as Mountain pretends to be thoroughly engrossed by his feet. He's not a prude, far from it but it just feels awkward to watch the ones who helped him with his first moments Topside be...like that.

"Welcome back." Terra says fondly after Pebble yanks her tail away and stomps off to set the table. Ivy picks up her vegetables again and goes to put her gardening tools away. "Tell us where you've been this whole time."

"All over." Mountain begins. And, like he always does, hits his head on the doorframe on the way in.

Some things never change.

Hail Satan!

Yesterday I bought a pack of markers.

Since then every free moment I've spent doodling away.

I think this is joy. I'm happy.

more about this because dew and phan are my favorites and i'm weak for them being soft (and also i want to write a fic about it but writer's block is messing me up so i'm writing my ideas until i could actually write)

the first time dew noticed the others leaving thw new quint out was at dinner when everyone seemed to have a place at the table but there was no place for ant and dew just saw him turning away with the saddest look ever and he just growled at everyone, took another plate putting a bit from everything on the plate before taking his own and going to phantom's room so they could eat together.

after that he noticed it much more, like when swiss growled at phantom when he sat too close to them so he pulled away from cuddling with the multi ghoul to cuddle with the quint, giving swiss the middle finger when he whined at that.

or when mountain yelled at phantom for accidentally pouring too much water to one of his plants and dew yelled at the giant that instead of yelling at the new summoned why won't he teach him how to do it right because, as he said before, phantom is just new to the topside, asshole, you can teach him instead of being fucking mean to him.

or when phantom saw cirrus braiding dew's hair and he asked her if she can teach him how to do ot and she growled at him so dew just stood up, taking phantom back to his room while promising to teach him how to braid hair (he also didn't let anyone else do it for about two months after).

he even made everyone sit through two hours of a lecture about how to be nice (and that's coming from him) to the new quint that included yelling, threatening, growling and death glaring all of the pack.

about a week later (when the rest finally got it through their thick fuckin skulls that phantom isn't at fault that aether left) the pack were at the common room watching some sea documentary that rain put on and suddenly phantom's head fell on his shoulder and he looked down to see that the bug was sleeping, mountain offered to take him to his room so dew could sit comfortably but dew growled at him and moved phantom's head gently to lay on his lap, and when swiss offered to take phantom from him (so he could cuddle with him instead that asshole) dew growled at him too, teeth bared and swiss held his hands up and sat back at his place on the sofa.

dew didn't even understood how much he actually cared for the new quint until that moment.

Post infirmary shift Omega since people thought my Omega design was so hot lol

(people liking my design made me sooo happy ngl)

"I fucked ur mom this" "I have sex with your dad that" well I have a weird homoerotic relationship with your hot older brother and he got lost in my eyes over our jumbo pizza slices and forgot to pick you up after soccer practice. it's raining and you're devestated btw

phantom is terrible about infiltrating the other ghoul’s personal spaces, bedrooms, and belongings. he takes stuff all of the time that does not belong to him and never lets anyone know where that “really cool souvenir” went until they ask. their bedroom? that’s phantom’s if he decides that the lighting is nice or that the fire is set just right… if he sees a neatly made bed that is just begging to be slept in, he will. there is no such thing as privacy or personal belongings with that ghoul around

was telling my therapist about how i've always used books, fanfic, and storytelling as escapism but now instead of me consuming stories, stories consume me. dalton gave me The Look (the one that means he's gonna say something i need to hear but don't want to) before asking, "you know that snake that eats itself?" to which i said, "yeah, ouroboros." and he replied, "i didn't know he had a name, that's cool. anyway, you're the snake. i know you've convinced yourself the consumption is filling, but it's not. when it's you you’re eating, it's destruction."

like yeah i know that’s not what the snake represents and ex-cowboy-turned-combat-vet-turned-trauma specialist dalton probably does not know the exact symbolism behind it but like. jesus christ man did that to lay me to waste at 10:30 on a wednesday morning.

and even though he hurt my feelings with the truth, it did put it into perspective for me.

it’s not levity’s lighthouse guiding me to port when depression’s darkness and anxiety’s turbulent waves make it difficult for me to sail smoothly on my voyage.

it’s not a way to alleviate my symptoms, it’s a manifestation of them.

it’s a compulsion, deceptively insidious when cloaked in distraction’s pseudo-warmth. when easily covered by procrastination’s much easier to swallow explanation.

and i’m sure you want to say “but reading is a healthy coping mechanism!”

and it is. when done in moderation.

it’s no longer coping when your screen time is 16 hours a day. when 12 of those hours a day are spent scuttling about ao3 on all fours. when you sit in the same spot on the couch for hours on end with your head buried in the sand. when it’s literally all you can think about.

the consumption isn’t coping. isn’t creation. isn’t reconstruction or rebirth or reformation. it’s chaos. it’s compulsion.

it’s cannibalism.