Latest Posts by kolyabird - Page 7
Here are some human designs or Anthony and Husker that I sketched up. I wanna do the rest but alas I have no more creative juices.
other people: i like husk for his personality, his voice, etc.
i like husk because he cat
More silly doodles about Overlord Husk and Assistant Angel
Angel is getting better by the day! He just gets easily distracted by Husk’s voice. Also WTF is my dearest Camilla????
being at home is such a conflicting feeling
i’m surrounded by all the many versions of myself and yet, i still don’t know which one i am
this is so bad but i permanently cropped the file so brutally that i can no longer edit it. whoops! also panels 4-7 were fully coloured but it looks better without for some reason. pomni (penny?) is such an ugly crier. i love my horrible failgirl accountant
Words of Encouragement
Here's a website where Palestine GoFundMes are vetted and shared that you can send out to people. The url is gazafunds.com
Easy to use and simple. Just share the site whenever someone asks for GFMs for Palestine.
🌈Chaggie🎀
I'm not responsible for the person i will become at june 20 & 22
hi guys
thinking about the ghouls babying each other whenever one of them is sick
i think they all (phantom included) assumed that dew hated phantom for a while because of how avoidant and quiet he was around the new bug but really all it was is that dew is Allergic to initiating anything and was just waiting for the day that phantom threw himself down on the couch next to him sitting close enough that their knees bumped touched and a quiet lil “hey dew” and that’s all the invitation dew needed to cuddle up and cling to phantom like cat hair on a sweater for the rest of forever phantom couldn’t get rid of him now even if he wanted to and ofc he doesn’t
Quick Cardinal painting, because I felt that we, as a fandom, do not appreciate enough that he's canonically a big fan of kissing hands
i love how copia always looks like he has just witnessed an extremely uncomfortable, possibly traumatic act right in front of him. and/or like he’s judging you in a very sassy way.
Swaddle on or whatever they said
📸: adamrosssi
made my own designs for the ghouls so i can finally draw them😪
feel free to use these designs, just tag me so I can see🥰
— from sinnersritual on tiktok
🦇° Bat Stimboard °🦇
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Adorable!!
For all the Bat therians / Regressors / Non human alters!
random ghoul hcs
- aurora loves patterned tights and fishnets but she has to buy new ones constantly cause she’s always ripping them. sometimes it’s cause someone else ripping them but most of the times it’s just from her claws getting caught on them
- mount and rory both have a gap tooth. dew and ant have crooked teeth. mounts gap tooth causes a slight lisp
- cumulus’ favourite texture is silk. she has full silk bedspread and sleeps in a silk cap, partly for her hair but mostly because she just loves the way it feels
- cumulus and rain are skin care girlies, they both have a mini fridge in their bathroom full of different products, they steal each others stuff all the time despite them both having plenty to choose from in their own collections
- cirrus does not shave she can’t stand the feeling of not having hair everywhere and she’s hairy so i mean everywhere. dew on the other hand cannot stand it he’s not even that hairy but the feeling of it freaks him out, the only hair he’s okay with is the hair on his head. rory shaves her pubes into a heart
- swiss has a collection of photo albums, he even has photos of his packmates from before he was summoned (took a lot of bribing to get them from copia) nobody knows about his photo albums they’re his happy lil secret. he also is constantly taking photos of his ghouls for his albums, he prints them out and will scribble a lil caption on the back (example: “rain soaking up the sun by the lake, winter was long and harsh this year. he missed being out here. i missed seeing him so at peace”)
phantom runs cold (quint thing) and dew runs warm (fire ghoul thing) so one night in the middle of summer a few months after ants summoning dew is simply too hot so he sneaks into ants room for the first time and just wraps himself around them he wakes ant up in the process who’s like “wha- oh… okay :3” and dew trying to be as nonchalant about it as possible mumbles “it’s just really hot >:(” into ants cool bare chest and they both know that’s not the only reason but it’s late and they’re both so comfy that they don’t talk about it
Vampire Goth Rain who's always wearing something straight out of a fantasy romance novel, all sheer fabric shirts and sinfully tight pants, having to wear his normie fits to the dry cleaners on laundry days/on his late night grocery trips evoking a very grungy gamer vibe continuously running into punk Dew and being completely mortified every time.
Yeah.
Held at a Knife's Point
Dewdrop invites Rain on an unconventional date.
Relationship: Raindrop / Characters: Dewdrop, Rain Tags: Ear Piercing, Ghoul Lore (just a little), sweet & supportive Dew Words: 3511
Read below or on AO3
Dewdrop asks him as they’re cleaning up after a practice session that day, just the two of them in the instrument storage room.
“By the way, I’m going into the city tomorrow, want to come with me?”
The abbey’s locale meets most of their day-to-day retail needs, but for some things, more specialized purchases, they tend to go to the nearest major city. There’s a big record store they all like to browse, and a music store that stocks all sorts of gear that’s better tried in person.
“Sure,” Rain says. “Guitar pedals?”
“Getting my ear pierced.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“You could get one too, if you want.”
Rain reaches up and touches his own ear without any conscious intention. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“No pressure, you could come with me either way.”
“No, I mean, I’m just not sure what kind I would get.” Dew has a few piercings already, in a scattering of different places across his ears — a body part which is quite intricate, actually. It seems there might be dozens of possibilities. Rain runs his fingers over the loops and curves of his own, as of yet unaltered.
“I think you should get one here.” Dew reaches up and places his fingertip on a spot just inside the round inner hollow of Rain’s ear. If that hollow were a globe, a planet rotating on the long axis of his ear, Dew’s finger could be on its equator.
Rain puts his own finger there, nestled against Dew’s for a moment.
Dew pulls his hand away, then leans back a bit and watches Rain as if he’s visualizing, considering how it would look on him.
“Won’t it get in the way of the in-ear monitor?” Rain asks.
Dew hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think it will. You could always change the jewelry if it did, though. To something flat.”
Rain pinches his ear between his fingernails. It stings. He imagines what it would feel like if they went all the way through.
“You can get whatever you like, though.” Dew puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “You don’t have to get anything at all. It’s up to you.”
“What are you getting?”
“One that goes across, like this.” He pulls one hand back out of his pocket and drags his finger horizontally across the flat plane of Rain’s upper ear. Rain places his own fingers on that blank canvas of a space. His and Dew’s hands bump together. “Through..?”
“Here,” Dew gently pinches the rim of Rain’s ear between his fingertip and the pad of his thumb, above where it attaches to his head in the front, then a similar place on the opposite edge. “And here. The jewelry goes across.” He drags his finger horizontally again, connecting the two points.
“Oh.” Rain rolls the rim of his ear between his fingers. It’s fleshier, the cartilage thinner.
“You can think about it, yeah? No pressure or anything.”
He’ll think about it, sure, but he’s already made up his mind.
—
Around noon the next day, the two of them board a train into the city. As it pulls out of the station, the trees and houses next to the tracks start to creep by, then accelerate faster and faster until Rain can’t focus his eyes on any single feature anymore. Once the train makes it far enough from the residential area, the trees fall away to reveal the slow-moving landscape beyond.
“Have you decided?” In the next seat over, Dew is watching out the window too.
“Yeah. I’m going to get what you suggested.”
“Nice.”
“By the way, are they going to notice...” Rain taps the pointed tip of his ear.
“Nah, just don’t mention it and she won’t say anything.”
“Really?”
Dew hums in assent. “It’s like the horns.”
“Even up close?”
“Yep. The power of confirmation bias or something.”
Despite whatever power that allows them to function in human society, be it mystical or psychological, Rain still feels skeptical. For a human to look directly at his ear, touch it, even alter it, seems riskier than going to the grocery store, or any other day-to-day activity he’s used to. But Dew has done this before, so it must be okay.
Their destination is a fifteen minute walk from the train station. Dew knows the way without any maps or directions. They pass restaurants and cafes, department stores, shops selling clothes and furniture. Eventually they arrive at an unassuming storefront — a door listing operating hours next to a single display window, set into brown stone. Dew pushes open the door and holds it for Rain to follow behind.
Inside, a woman behind a display case greets them. Rain finds himself distracted by his surroundings while Dew talks to her. The store is bright, artificial light compensating for the cloudy weather and shadows of buildings through the window. It’s neat, too, orderly and immaculately clean, every surface polished and free of dust. The ambiance is something between high end retail and a dentist’s office.
“Do you have time for a walk-in?” Dew places his hand on Rain’s upper arm. Rain smiles politely as he’s being displayed.
“Of course.”
Dew seems to have some sort of ability to get things he wants. He doesn’t beg or argue, at least not in this context — he might pout lightheartedly in private, with Rain, with the other ghouls, but that’s the extent of it. When he isn’t pulling his punches, he just asks for things directly with a high rate of success.
The woman turns to Rain. “What are you thinking of getting?”
“Oh, um—” He points to the spot on his ear that Dew pressed his finger against yesterday. If he really focuses on it, he can still feel the heat there. “Just here.”
“Great. For your jewelry, you can pick from any of these,” she says, tapping a fingernail on one of the glass cases between them. “Or any of the ones over there, if you’re looking for something fancier.”
Of course, standing in the middle of what he now understands to be a very specialized jewelry store, he should have anticipated this would be part of the process, but it still catches him off guard. All of Dew’s jewelry is plain silver, little round beads and hoops. It would seem he always skips this step.
Rain peers into the case in front of him. Within it are rows and rows of gems and charms, arranged in orderly grids on stark display stands. There are faceted jewels in a rainbow of colors, all kinds of decorative metal shapes, intricate designs, gold and silver, large and small and every size in between. His head spins.
A cloudy gray-green stone, smooth and round and flecked with black, catches his eye where it’s lined up amid other natural-looking options. It gleams, almost iridescent, blue and bronze, when he moves his head.
He points with one finger against the glass. “The gray one.”
She reaches in through the back of the case and pulls out the display stand. She points at the stone. “This one?”
Rain nods.
She plucks it from its slot on the stand. It glints again under the LED ceiling fixtures, reflecting light from within, like an animal’s eye, a deer in the headlights.
Before she disappears into the back of the shop to prepare things, she hands them each a form on a clipboard. The two of them sit next to each other on a leather couch and fill out their names and demographic details, and confirm their willingness to participate by signing at the bottom of the page. It barely takes a fraction of the time that she’s gone, leaving them waiting and unoccupied. Rain taps his feet nervously. Dew bumps their shoulders together.
When the piercer returns, she leads them into a smaller room with a counter along one side and a black padded table in the center. It’s windowless, but just as bright as the front, and just as clean.
“Whoever is going first, you can have a seat up here.” She gestures to the table.
Rain glances over at Dew, who is already looking at him, watching his face.
“Want me to..?” Dew speaks softly.
Rain nods. This will be a first for him either way.
Dew hops up onto the table. He folds his hands loosely in his lap. His boots dangle above the tile floor.
At the counter, the piercer peels open blue and white sterile envelopes with gloved hands and lets their contents fall onto a paper-lined tray table next to her. She picks supplies from drawers and sundry jars — gauze, alcohol wipes, a marker, a small cork like the kind used as a stopper for a bottle. She wheels the tray over to where Dew is sitting.
She scrubs his ear with alcohol, then marks two spots on it with a purple pen — the same two spots he showed Rain yesterday. She offers Dew a hand mirror. He examines his ear, holding the mirror off to the side, and then nods.
From her prepared supplies she picks up a needle, unadorned steel and intimidatingly thick, the broad teardrop shape of its beveled end clearly visible from a distance. With her other hand she picks up a cork. She lines them both up against Dew’s ear, the needle on one side and the cork on the other, framing one purple mark.
“Breathe in,” she tells Dew.
He complies, his chest rising slightly.
“Breathe out.”
He does, his chest sinking back down.
As soon as he begins to exhale, she presses the needle through his ear and into the cork on the other side. Dew doesn’t even blink. She slides a metal bar into the newly created hole in his ear, using it to push the end of the needle all the way through.
She repositions the cork and the needle on either side of the second purple mark and repeats the same process — inhale, exhale, needle, jewelry. She screws a metal ball on each end of the bar, which is now threaded through both sides of his upper ear.
“All set.” She peels off her gloves.
Dew hops down from the table and checks out his ear in a large mirror hanging on the wall. The bar is longer than the width of flesh that it spans, sticking out a bit on either side. The entire top half of his ear is pink. It clearly looks new, fresh, but conceptually it fits in well with the other metal there. In time, once those indications of newness dissipate, it will look like it’s always been there, just like the rest.
Dew returns to where Rain is standing, off to the side of the table, out of the way.
“Ready?” The piercer is putting on a new pair of gloves.
Rain is the one who is supposed to be ready. He doesn’t feel ready, but time is moving forward on its own. He sits on the padded table, now in Dew’s place, with Dew where Rain was before, their positions swapped.
When the piercer brings over the tray, it has the same things as it did for Dew’s piercing — gauze, alcohol, a marker, a cork, a needle. She tips Rain’s head slightly with her gloved hands and draws a dot on his ear with the marker.
She passes him the hand mirror. “Let me know if this looks good.”
He tries to imagine the purple dot replaced by a piece of metal and stone. He can’t really close the conceptual gap — it’s just a dot. Regardless, he nods.
“Great.” She picks up the needle and the cork.
Rain’s breath catches in his throat. The needle is so much bigger up close. He glances up at Dew and imagines standing where he is again. The distance isn’t far, but somehow it made a huge difference.
Dew steps forward and closes that distance without saying anything. He eases the mirror from Rain’s tight grip and places it on the table. Then he offers his own hand, palm up and welcoming, in its stead.
Even just the invitation is a relief, a logical and straightforward improvement to the situation that Rain wouldn’t have thought of by himself in this state. He takes Dew’s hand in a firm grip. It’s warm, and the pressure is grounding.
The piercer brings her hands to the side of his face. She’s working so close to his head he can’t see anything, only the blur of her glove in his peripheral vision and her expression of concentration off to his side.
“Breathe in,” she instructs.
Rain can feel the sharp tip of the needle where she places it against his skin, just resting there lightly, painlessly. He knows what’s going to happen. He breathes in.
“Breathe out.”
He breathes out.
More than pain, there’s pressure. And more than pressure, there’s sound — a loud pop, almost a crunch, of the needle penetrating his cartilage.
She takes something from the table nearby and performs what he assumes must be the same dance between needle and jewelry as she did for Dew. He still can’t see what’s happening, only hear the rustle of nitrile as her fingers move.
Dew gives his hand one tight squeeze and then releases it.
“Feeling okay?”
“Yeah.” Actually, he feels giddy. It’s unclear if it’s just from the sudden relief after a very long day of anticipating an impending unknown, or if it’s a rush of endorphins precipitated by the needle itself.
“Want to take a look?” She takes a step back and nods at the mirror on the wall. Her gloves snap as she peels them off.
Rain slides off the table and walks the two steps to the mirror. He leans in and tilts the side of his head toward it, holding his hair back with one hand. There, in the inner shell of his ear, right where he pointed to, and exactly where the purple mark was, is the gray-green stone from earlier. It shines when he tips his head just a few degrees.
He leans back, standing up normally. He realizes that his face, outside of his control, has composed itself into an expression of pleasant surprise, with his jaw dropped just slightly and his eyes bright. At this distance, the jewelry is subtle — not too flashy or too colorful or too large. He lets his hair fall the way it normally does, tucked partially behind his ear, and it’s barely noticeable until it glints with his motion.
Behind him, Dew is watching the mirror too.
The piercer leads them to the cash register at the front of the shop. Cool midday sun is shining through the window now, brightening the space even more. Rain pulls his wallet out of his pocket but Dew waves it away and taps his card on the reader before Rain has a chance to protest, or to see what the total is.
The piercer sees them off with a paper copy of the aftercare instructions for their piercings. Dew folds it neatly in thirds and slides it into an interior pocket of his jacket, and then the two of them set out for the train station.
They stop for ice cream on their way. It’s too early in the year for it, really; the sun warms the ground but there’s a petulant breeze in the cool air. Packed-down piles of plowed snow remain unmelted on street corners, tucked into alleys, at the end of the occasional parking lot, all dripping sluggishly onto damp asphalt. Sidewalks are littered with a crusty patchwork of the same.
Nevertheless, Rain’s eyes linger on the shop window as they walk by. The freezer case with its cheery selection of flavors, assorted colors in big tubs marked by little handwritten labels, is visible within. When he turns his head back towards the direction they’re walking, Dew’s eye contact tugs on him with an unspoken question. Both of their steps falter, and then they’re turning around.
A bell hanging from the door greets them with a hearty jingle as they step inside. The interior of the store is warm, almost stiflingly so, and empty of other customers. The syrupy smell of waffle cones is so dense it might as well be visible in the air, condensing near the ceiling in cotton candy clouds. Sweat forms on the back of Rain’s neck like liquid caramel beading on the surface of a torched crème brûlée. His limbs sag like pulled taffy.
After they make their selections and after Dew pays — for both of them, again, as if they’re on their first date instead of their hundredth, as if they’re counting, as if an ordinal number could represent an infinitesimal sum of continuous time — they file past bistro tables and metal chairs tucked along one wall and head back out the door, which bids them farewell with the same jingle.
The early springtime air is a refreshing contrast, freezing the sugary haze on their jackets and in their hair. They trade spoonfuls of ice cream while waiting at the crosswalk. Rain ducks his head down just slightly to reach Dew’s raised spoon. The traffic signal changes.
Rain’s ear is starting to ache now, pulsing out a nagging heat in time with his heartbeat. Without much forethought he places the cold ice cream cup, held in fingers that are rapidly becoming numb, against his ear. Immediately, he jerks it away with a sharp, involuntary inhale.
Dew chuckles. His eyes are warm, glimmering with a knowing spark.
“Ow,” is all Rain can think to say.
“Yeah,” Dew laughs. When he speaks again, he’s suddenly much more serious. “Not that bad though, right?”
Rain glances over and Dew is looking at him with his brow furrowed, and with the big, sad eyes that he can never quite replicate when he tries to as a joke. Rain considers how best to downplay his reaction. “It’s...” he starts, and finally settles on, “distracting.”
Dew nods once. He doesn’t say anything, nor does he provide any other indication of what he thinks about that.
A couple blocks later, he makes a sudden turn into a pharmacy.
“Wait, where—” Rain stutters as he follows his lead. Dew never mentioned making another stop.
“Just want to grab something.”
The two of them weave through a maze of aisles stocked with neat rows of medicines and first aid supplies and vitamins. Dew leads them to the selection of over-the-counter pain relievers. The thing Dew wanted to grab, apparently, is a package of ibuprofen, which he bends down to select from a lower shelf.
They return to the front of the store to check out. On the way, Dew grabs a bottle of water from behind the glass door of a refrigerator case. It swings closed with a snap.
Back outside, Dew pauses mere steps from the door. He slides open the flimsy cardboard flap of the ibuprofen box and pulls the blister pack of pills from within. He holds the plastic and foil sheet out towards Rain.
The chain of cause and effect snaps into a straight line, orderly like the rows of pills in the package. Rain thought that he succeeded in alleviating this particular concern. “Wait, it’s not that bad.”
“It’s not a big deal, and it’s good for the swelling anyway.” Dew presses the sheet closer.
Resigned, Rain holds out his hand to take it.
Instead of handing over the entire sheet, Dew holds it over Rain’s outstretched palm and presses one dose out of the individual cells with his thumb, breaking through the foil backing. Then he twists off the top of the water bottle and hands it to him as well.
Rain swallows the ibuprofen with a sip of water. He sighs quietly. He feels sort of like a party foul, the one who needs their hair held back in the bathroom at a bar, maybe. The one who couldn’t handle what they signed up for.
Next to him, Dew pops another dose of ibuprofen out into his own palm, then drops it into his mouth. He reaches out for the water bottle. It takes Rain a second to catch up with what’s happening and hand it back. Dew drinks from the bottle and then screws the cap back on. He stuffs the remaining ibuprofen into his jacket pocket.
When Dew looks back up, Rain is still staring, gears in his head turning. His eyebrows are probably raised just a little, he realizes.
Dew shrugs at him, nonchalant.
When they start walking again, Rain reaches out and bumps the back of his hand against Dew’s. Rain doesn’t need to say anything; Dew clasps their hands together without hesitation.
He pulls his and Rain’s hands into his pocket. It’s a comfortable fit with the two of them, not too tight — Dew’s jacket is oversized in every aspect, including, or maybe especially, the pockets. There’s nothing else inside this one, just them. It’s warm from Dew’s body heat.
Rain squeezes their hands closer together.
Thinking about the first time Phantom feels truly comfortable with the entire pack and his new life.
He feels comfortable coming into the common room uninvited (though he always is).
He knows it's okay to come take the comfy spot on the couch next to Dew because he's warm, and he's been cold for so long in the pit that Dews constant radiation of warmth is so comforting.
He knows it's okay to take the remote and put on what he wants to watch since Dews on his phone, there for the company more then the tv.
He knows he can put on whatever bad reality TV or cartoons he wants on and he won't be judged.
He knows he can lean into Dews side and be welcomed by a grumble but a arm getting wrapped around him.
He knows that he can lay his head on his chest while he watches the show.
He knows that when he inevitably gets sleepy that Dews got him.
He knows he can sleep without fear of being harmed.
He knows he's completely safe there.
If Swiss and Dew were to cuddle would Dew be like a personal heater? (Dew Being a fire ghoul)
i’m crying real tears i swear i had an old doodle of this somewhere but i cannot find it so i will talk abt it instead ☝️
swiss can handle a lot of heat, he’s part fire after all and it’s one of his more present elements that he has more control over. dew loves that shit. he burns hot as coals on top of swiss and swiss is just like hehe :3 warm and it makes dew raise his eyebrow so high like wtf. montage of dew doing fire ghoul experiments on swiss until aether has to stop them because No Dew, You May Not Put Swiss’ Head In The Air Fryer.
it's convenient for full moons when swiss’ water in him makes him run a little colder, and there’s a bit (a lot) of steam in the room from the temperature clash. queue a comment from one of them about how it looks like they just hot boxed the place.
another reason why dew is very vulnerable around swiss is because he literally and figuratively can handle dew's heat. dew on fire ? swiss can carry him out to the lake and let him boil in there until he cools (hehe) down. swiss can also be unbothered as hell when dew gets a bit nastier and says things he doesn't mean. swiss has tough skin (via his older sister) but still its always talked about and ends with an "i'm sorry" on dew's behalf and a "prove it 😼" from fuckhead swiss. then they kiss with tongue or smth idk i don’t support them
cuddles are a favorite for them esp with dew’s tendency to knead and purr and groom when he’s all happy like that. he’s like a ford F-150 engine with how loud he is and how hot he runs when he’s being smothered by swiss. if he’s not a rubber duck under a hydrologic press he gets pissy. and oh how convenient it is that swiss is bigger in the colder seasons and needs a heating pad (dew does the most evil grin and acts like he’s freezing)
and of course, after care. when dew is cooling down and the sheets are soaked and singed, swiss likes to lick him clean with a cold tongue to help him cool down. likes to blow cold air on his neck and behind his ears and on his stomach and his hands. dew gets fuckin dizzy from the rush of the temperature clash and tells swiss to run them a damn bath already. swiss tries not to get too caught up on dew wanting him to run Them, the two of them, together, a bath. he kicks his feet and giggles like Okay baby ^___^ !!!
tldr idgaf about these guys they’re cringe and i’m glad phantom home wrecked them
Could we get something where Phantom/Aeon realizes for the first time he is truly safe and loved in the new pack
I sprinkled some of my Aeon headcanons/lore on this one, I hope you don't mind.
Aeon had a rough time in the Pit and is afraid the other ghouls will hurt him, he does have sensory issues and a meltdown, but all ends well.
Aeon is summoned, brought Topside, in a particularly chaotic time.
He's rushed through practices, learns to harness his magick and play guitar, and is thrown into a tour that lasts several months. Sure, he's in tight quarters with a bunch of strange ghouls, he gets to know them, grows to like them even, but he's constantly on his guard. He knows what other ghouls are like, especially to a runt of a quintessence ghoul like him, and has the scars and marks to prove it. He spends the entire tour doing his best to keep up, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Getting back to the Abbey after the tour ends is just as drastic a change. Aeon's a ghoul who thrives on routines. In the Pit, it was simple: Scavenge enough food and clean water to survive, avoid the roaming packs of ghouls looking for easy pickings, repeat. Tour is similar enough, try to get enough sleep, keep his energy up, perform his best every night, crash on the bus, repeat.
When the tour ends, Aeon is faced with a daunting amount of free time. Sure, he has chores and duties, but nothing as demanding as the touring he's grown accustomed to. He doesn't deal with change well, throws everything off rhythm and makes it so much easier to overload him. Aeon spends most of his free time holed up in his room, door locked to the rest of the ghouls.
It's a shitty morning to begin with. The neckline of his pajama shirt rests against his throat, nearly setting off his gag reflex as he wakes up. Aeon changes into somebody else's hoodie that made its way into his room. The smell isn't quite right, doesn't fit him the way he likes, but it's the only clean top he has, and Aeon can't bring himself to go do laundry. The lights are too bright, and Aeon hisses, pulling the hood over his shaggy hair to shield his eyes.
Aeon slinks out of his room, trying to avoid the others as he heads to the kitchen. He just wants to grab some food, some fruit or something, and dart back to the safety of his room.
Naturally, that isn't what happens.
Cirrus, Swiss, and Dew are all in the kitchen, talking loudly and laughing with each other as Cirrus slips out, steaming mugs in their hands. The fire and multi ghouls turn and swivel to face him as he enters. Aeon gulps, pinned in place by their gazes.
"Morning, sleepyhead. Nice hoodie," Swiss teases, tail swishing behind him lazily. He grins wide, and Aeon does his best to hide his flinch as Swiss bares his fangs.
"We haven't seen much of you lately," Dew observes, taking a long drink from his mug, locking eyes with Aeon as he drinks.
Aeon burrows further into the hoodie, claws worrying at hangnails as he tucks his hands in the front pocket. "Sorry," he whispers, tail flicking behind him. He shudders as the sensitive spade scrapes against the tile. Aeon shrinks back
"You're always hiding in your room," Dew says, brows furrowed slightly. "What, are you afraid of us?"
"We spent months in real tight quarters, buggy," Swiss says, reaching out and setting a hand on Aeon's shoulder. "I know you value your privacy, but you can't hide in there forever."
Aeon flinches, jerking his shoulder back from Swiss's hand. "I just want to get something to eat. Don't wanna get in anybody's hair."
"You're not," Swiss says, frowning slightly, and Lucifer, that stings. "We just wanna know why you don't want to spend time with us."
"Yeah, voidling, we were all buddy-buddy on tour," Dew adds on. "What happened? We didn't upset you, didn't we?" Dew reaches out, touches his chest, and Aeon feels himself pushed over the edge, past an overload and hurtling towards a meltdown.
"Why won't you all leave me the fuck alone?" Aeon snarls, eyes flashing white-hot silver. His ears pin flat to his head, his tail lashing behind him. He snaps his fangs at Dew's outstretched hand, quintessence crackling in purple bolts like static electricity along his skin, looking for all the world like a feral ghoul straight out of the deepest, darkest parts of the Pit.
Dew flinches back, eyes wide with an expression that Aeon wishes more than anything he could read. Swiss takes a step back, swallowing hard as he holds his hands up placatingly. Aeon feels his stomach flip, eyes blurring with tears.
He takes a shaking step back, away from the fire ghoul. He ignores the others calling his name. He can't tell if they're calling for him out of anger, itching to put him in his place for disturbing their tentative peace.
His brain tells him he's back in the Pit, alone and in danger, surrounded by bigger, stronger ghouls, and his body acts accordingly. His hands dig into his hair, covering his ringing ears, claws biting into his scalp. He shrinks away from them, squeezing his eyes shut as he backs himself into the corner, back sliding down the wall as he makes himself as small as he can.
Aeon opens his mouth to beg, to plead with them for forgiveness, but can't find his words, human language escaping him, stuck in his throat. He hears Cirrus step back into the room, butting past Dew and Swiss, and feels her presence as she crouches down near him.
"Darling," she whispers. "Sweetheart, can you tell me what's wrong? It's okay if you can't."
"Please don't hurt me," he chitters, the ghoulish easier on his tongue. "I'm sorry, please don't hurt me."
Cirrus straightens, turning back to the other ghouls as she shifts backwards, giving Aeon a little more space. "Boys, I need you to take three steps back."
Aeon can hear their footsteps, breathes a little easier. He keeps muttering in ghoulish, pleading her, waiting to feel her sharp claws make contact. Tears streak down his cheeks, and he can't control his sobs as he feels three pairs of eyes on him.
"We're not going to hurt you, Aeon," she says, voice soft like a breeze. "Why would we hurt you? Darling, you're pack."
That's enough to shock Aeon out of his tears, opening his eyes to meet hers. "I'm not anybody's pack," He says, voice shaking as Cirrus's face falls. "I've never been anybody's pack."
"You're our pack, Aeon," she breathes. "Darling, you are as much our pack as any of us here. I'm sorry we haven't been clear about it."
Dew nods, taking a hesitant step forward. "Voidling, we all love you. I swear to the Father Below, none of us will ever hurt you," he says, sinking to his knees by Cirrus's side, his hands palm up and open on his thighs. "I'm sorry we kept pushing you."
Aeon wipes his eyes with the oversized sleeves of his hoodies, sniffling as Swiss kneels at Cirrus's other side. There's enough distance between the three of them and him that he doesn't feel cornered, but something in him feels right having them close.
"What did you mean, buggy, that you've never been anybody's pack?" Swiss asks, gold eyes full of something Aeon realizes with a start is concern. "You don't have to tell us, we just want to understand."
Aeon makes eye contact with Swiss for the first time since he lashed out. "Nobody wants a quintessence runt," he whispers. "Been on my own for a long time."
"Aeon, voidling," Dew says. "You're not alone anymore. You don't have to be."
"Besides, we do want you, buggy," Swiss says. "We want you in our pack so much. We want to see you, more than just glances. We're not solitary creatures, you know."
Cirrus reaches out hesitantly, her hand open and non-threatening, claws glamoured away. "Can I touch you, darling boy?"
Aeon nods and launches himself into her arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her honeysuckle-jasmine scent. "You promise you're not gonna hurt me?" he whispers.
"May I be banished to the Pits if I break that promise, darling," she whispers in his ear. She notices the chunk missing from the shell of his ear, holds him closer as she purrs soothingly. Swiss sets a gentle hand on the small of his back, and Dew runs glamoured fingers through his shaggy hair. "You'll never be hurt again."
They kneel there on the kitchen floor for a while, until Aeon shifts uncomfortably. Cirrus moves to let him go, and he clings harder, whimpering. "Please," he whispers. "Just, my knees hurt."
Cirrus chuckles, shifting herself. "Mine too. Are you alright if we go to the couches in the common room? Far more comfortable than the kitchen floor."
He tenses, but nods, hesitantly extricating himself from Cirrus's arms. Swiss helps him to his feet, leading the group to the oversized futon in the common room. Aeon and Swiss lay down, Aeon curled up to the multi-ghoul's warm chest, his arms wrapped tight around him. Cirrus sidles up against Aeon's back, rubbing soft patterns along his bicep over the hoodie. Dew lays horizontal to them, letting Aeon rest his head on the softness of his stomach, purring like a rusty motor.
One by one, the other ghouls join the cuddle pile, Aeon in the center, and he's never felt safer in his life. He chuffs, safe and content, drifting off to sleep, surrounded by the soft breathing of his pack.
Comfort
- Cirrus will do anything to make you feel better, if you want or need something she can sense it, if she can’t, you can let her know and she wont judge at all. She’ll sit with you for hours and let you talk about it <3
- Aurora shares a lot of problems with you, more than you’d expect. She makes sure that you’ll always feel safe and she likes to set up a whole pillow nest for you while she lets you cry into her. Aurora will remind you how much she loves you every second :(
- Cumulus goes straight to cuddles, if you go up to her looking sad or anything, the first thing she says is: “do you want a hug?” She’ll also let you tell her everything and wont respond unless you want her to. And if you want food or a blanket or anything, you’ll have it within a minute, your girl is fast when you need something.
- Sodo/Dew will ask if you wanna make cookies with him, they’ll the only thing he can cook, so he has enough practice that he’s really good at it :3 oh and you can lick the spatula!!
- Swiss picks you up and holds you, he’s so sorry you’re feeling this way and he doesn’t want you to feel like this ever again. He tries to distract you, but if that doesn’t work, you can tell him everything and he’ll offer very, very good solutions and input. Swiss will play a song on his guitar for you to cheer you up :)
- Phantom doesn’t get why you’re upset at first, but when he gets it, he understands everything and he’s probably crying too. Phantom tells you how much he loves you and he’s so sorry… do you want cuddles? How about some bat facts? Or wait, maybe you should just tell him what you need, whatever it is, he’s on it <3
- Mountain lets you sit on his lap while he plays his drums “do you wanna learn? Here so hit this one~” he explains everything to you and ends up distracting you from what’s happening. Mountain will also let you pour your heart out to him :(
- Rain gives you a hug, poor thing cries a bit too, he doesn’t like seeing you like this and it makes him sad, plus tears tend to come a lot faster for him. He’ll hug you and tell you that everything’s gonna be okay, also “do you want a bath or maybe we can watch tv together? Whatever you need” he’s very sweet and respectful <3
phantom ghoul wearing a dress for the first time, just alone in his room, feeling sooo pretty in front of the mirror but still a little shy. but rain catching them thru the slightly open door and just. jaw drops at how pretty their quintessence ghoul looks in that pretty white slip. he of course tells phantom this, and convinces him to show the others - they praise the fuckkk out of them, make him feel so gorgeous just like he is ♡ doing little twirls for everyone in the common room
they end up wearing dresses often after that, going shopping with rory and rain for new ones ::