Just The Fact Swiss Has A Cowbell This Tour Cycle And It's A No Phone Concert Is Killing Me. I Need To

So disappointed because I didn't have the chance to see this at the theater. I'd pay $20 to own this but not to rent for 48 hours. And let's not forget that $11.99 subscription fee to VEEPS. Come on guys.

Mushy may prompt list by the wonderful @forlorn-crows

Divider by the lovely @ghuleh-recs

(also if you haven't checked out @autumnblooms art, you should! Their Phantom/Aeon/bug is always the way I picture him in my head 🖤🖤🖤)

Day 15: painting on each other. Swiss/Aeon

Swiss sits back, glancing down at the bare expanse of Aeon's back. He's settled across the back of his thighs, the Quint stripped down to nothing, the warm spring sun peeking through the curtains, wanting a chance to taste the nighttime sky for himself.

Swiss dips his finger into the gold paint beside him, shifting his hips to reach the base of Aeon's neck, the little starburst mark that trickles down into galaxies. Swiss knows them all, has traced every single inch of him, had tasted each one.

He watches Aeon smile when he touches him, when he paints down along his spine, leaving the knobby path to the side, to trail over a light patch, to add color, his color, to Aeon's body.

Swiss bites his lip when he thinks about it, how he likes to believe Lucifer left spots blank on Aeon simply so Swiss could fill the space, so he could blend into him, to mark him as his, a claim so beautiful it belonged in a museum.

He traces his lightning, the electric storm that surges through his veins, decorates the midnight sky of Aeons back, bolts of lightning to bring out the starlight freckles. He weaves delicate trails like his smoke, little wisps to curl around and connect the constellations.

Aeon glances back over his shoulder, a little smirk pulling at his lips. "I'm chilly."

He knows he's not, knows he's burning hot but he's hungry for touch and Swiss would never deny a request from Aeon's lips. He presses forward, plants his chest against Aeon's back, the still wet paint smearing between them, two canvases making one masterpiece.

"Better?" He kisses his shoulder, tastes gold paint and lightning and starlight and Aeon.

He wiggles until Swiss let's him turn over, until they are chest to chest, neither caring about the paint on the sheets. It doesn't matter when Aeon can feel Swiss' heart against his, when he can feel each breath add a little more color to his skin. He glances down, looks along the line of the bodies pressed together, the way the paint looks on him versus how it looks on Swiss.

Colors, their colors, blended and beautiful, swirling together like the knots that weave their souls.

He smiles and kisses him, watches color flood Swiss cheeks, watches the gold of his eyes fill with fire.

"I am now."

Day three of @cirrus-ghoulette 's whump month: Homesick

Cw: drowning, suicide, manipulation, hallucination, lmk if i missed any

Dew doesn't know when he started feeling this way. He's been fire for years now, why is he suddenly yearning for the water again? The water, the cool darkness only water ghouls can survive in. Yeah, he's swam, yeah his gills are still semi functional, but it's not the same. It'll never be the same.

He wants to go back to the water, permanently. He knows it'll kill him, but he wants to do it anyway. No he doesn't. He doesn't want to die, but the water calls for him, like a siren calling for a sailor, luring them to their death. Maybe he could talk to Delta, see if Delta deals with the same thoughts he does.

But he doesn't. He doesn't want to bother Delta. Maybe these thoughts will stop.

They didn't. In fact, they got worse every time he saw a deep body of water. The water sings a secret song that only he can seem to hear. It's hypnotic. It infests his mind, takes over his thoughts.

He starts to envy Rain and Mist, how they swim so freely, submerge themselves fully, touch the bottom of the lake. He wants to take their abilities from them, use them to go to the bottom of the lake one last time, but he won't. He loves the water ghouls, he couldn't hurt them like that. But if he dies he's only truly hurting himself right?

That's how he ended up here. By the lake. At four in the morning. Too late for any sibling to be up, too early for any ghoul to be up. Besides the feral ones that act as guards around the ministry at night. They wouldn't pay any attention to him though.

He walks close to the edge of the lake. Should he really do this?

Yes. The water calls to him, Come back to me. Come back home, Droplet.

That's all it takes before he's walking into the water. The water reaches his ankles and the sharp sting of cold hits him, but he tredges on. The water touches his belly button, he's used to the temperature. The water's up to his chin, he has one more chance to go back to the ministry, his “home”, but the water calls again.

Droplet. Return. Embrace your natural element, be reborn as what you truly are.

That's a lie, it's all lies. He won't be reborn, he'll die. But he listens anyway. He takes the final step; he's fully submerged, from head to toe. He can breathe through his gills, but just barely. He continues walking. He breathes through his gills, the remnants of them fluttering as if they never broke in the first place.

As he goes deeper, it gets harder to breathe, the pressure from the water pressing on his lungs. Once he fully reaches the bottom of the lake he feels at peace, but also panicked. He can't breathe, he wants to swim back up, get out of the water, but it's holding him down.

You can't leave Droplet, you've just returned. We won't let you leave. The water hisses at him.

The lack of oxygen in his body makes him hallucinate, see spirits of the water around him, pushing him down to the floor of the lake, making him lay down.

Welcome home, Droplet. The spirits giggle as they hold him down.

As his vision gets blurry he starts to regret this. As much as he loved the water it wasn't his home. His home was the ministry, with his pack, teaching Phantom how to be a menace, sloppy makeout sessions with Swiss, baking in the kitchen with Aurora, having the sweetest sex with Cirrus, spending time with his pack, hell, even being scolded by Copia. He made the wrong choice.

Somehow, even while being underwater, he can feel tears run down his face. He wasn't ready to die, he didn't want to die. There was still so much to do. As he feels his consciousness slip away, he feels something grab his hand. His vision is too blurry for him to see so he lets the hand grab him.

He doesn't know how, but he's on the dirt of the banks of the lake and there's a faceless ghoul next to him.

“It's not your time.” The ghoul whispers before disappearing into the darkness.

Mushy May Day 7: First Kiss

Weeks of Mountain and Rain dancing around each other come to a head.

Much thanks to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for making the dividers <3

He/they pronouns for Rain

They dance around each other for weeks. Mountain still reeling from the sudden, bone deep rift that came with the death of the Papa that summoned him, the forced retirement of the majority of his pack, and Rain still learning how to exist outside of the Pits.

It doesn't stop them from starting to gravitate towards each other. They are both part of the rhythm section, after all. They share glances through silver masks, sapphire to emerald, while Copia instructs the other ghouls. They pretend it isn't happening, but after a while, it's completely undeniable. Of course, they don't talk about it, but it is happening, there's something there and Mountain's not certain what it is.

Aether clings to Dew after it all, having already been clingy before everything had Happened. Mountain doesn't blame him, not at all, but it means that he's alone for the first time since the Pit.

The water ghoul approaches him after one practice, the tour looming ahead of them. His bass is held in nervous fingers as he wanders back towards Mountain's kit on its riser, Copia and the other ghouls filtering out of the practice room.

"I'm-" Rain starts, swallowing hard; Mountain sees the way their throat works. "I'm having trouble with Pinnacle. Could we run it? Me and you?"

Mountain freezes, halfway through packing up his sticks. He wasn't certain what they were going to say, but this wasn't exactly it. He turns to the water ghoul, his eyes wide. "Of course," he says, feeling his cheeks start to heat against the metal covering his face. "What part's givin' you trouble?"

"The section after the first chorus is... Difficult," Rain says, tone a little strange, but Mountain pays it no mind. His attention is drawn to the way Rain scuffs his shoe against the practice room floor.

Mountain opens his mouth to speak, ready to point Rain in Dewdrop's direction, knows that Dew knows the Pinnacle bassline front and back, but shuts his mouth. He glances around at the otherwise empty practice room before taking his mask off, setting down beside his kit. His glamour fades slightly, rolling his neck to ease the crick in his spine as he sheds some of the magick.

He looks at them, earnest and happy to help. He settles back onto his stool. "Start from the chorus, alright? We'll work through it."

Rain nods, awkwardly taking his own mask and setting it on a storage crate. He sets his hands on the frets, long, elegant fingers hidden behind a pale human glamour. It fades, revealing powder-blue skin. Rain takes a deep breath, eyes locked on Mountain's, and they start.

Mountain helps them work through Pinnacle the best he can. He's never considered himself a great teacher, but he has played this song in front of thousands of screaming humans, what feels like hundreds of times.

They're not in front of anyone now, just each other. And Mountain wouldn't call Rain shy. He's seen the glint in their eyes, the sharp snap of teeth. He's not shy, they're just new. Mountain remembers being new as he watches Rain work his way through the bridge.

As they both play, Mountain comes to a sudden realization: Rain knows this part. They know it. He's not sure if it's a confidence thing that made them come to him, or something else, but Rain wanted to play it with him. He looks at them as they start to lose themself in the music.

It's just them, two thirds of the rhythm section. This feels right. Mountain feels the kick drum in his chest in a way he hasn't felt in a very long time. Or that's just his heart. He doesn't know, and he doesn't really care.

Eventually they stop, Rain's chest heaving as he takes a deep breath. "Thank you, Mountain."

He smiles, genuine and warm. "You're doing excellent, tadpole."

Rain's cheeks flush, an almost dusky violet. It makes tiny, silvers freckles stand out on their skin, almost iridescent where they're splattered over their cheeks and the curved bridge of their nose. "Thank you," he says again.

Rain wanders closer, bass set reverently in its stand. His eyes, wide and shark-like, focus on Mountain.

The earth ghoul stands to his full height, steps out from behind his kit, down the riser. He tries his best not to loom.

Rain gets closer still, drawn like an orbiting star. Mountain reaches out, cupping a big hand against their face, watching teal gills flutter against his throat. He tilts his head, watching the way Rain leans into the touch.

"May I kiss you?" Mountain blurts out, cheeks flushing a dark olive.

Rain's eyes go wide like saucers, mouth opening and closing like, well, a fish. "Yes," they say, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Mountain fights every urge he has to just take, leaning down gently as he tips their face up, capturing their lips with his. Rain tastes like salt, the sea on a sunny summer day, and Mountain knows within an instant of the contact that he's going to be chasing that taste the moment they pull away.

They break, and Mountain barely has a moment to catch his breath before Rain's surging up, lithe fingers curled around his suspenders and pulling.

Rain's new. They're hungry, sharp, serrated teeth nipping at Mountain's bottom lip. The earth ghoul groans like the wind's been knocked out of him. It certainly feels like it. He grins into the kiss and pulls them closer.

Sometimes I feel that someone should do a welfare check on that guitar

it’s not even 8am why must you do this

a rose by any other name

this dewther story for mushy may is brought to you by these ritual gifs:

prompt: flowers (from @forlorn-crows) rating: teen pairing: aether/dew word count: ~1500

read on AO3 or below

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

It happened occasionally, once every few rituals. After the band finished performing, when Copia and the ghouls were walking around the stage to interact with the audience, a fan would toss a bouquet of roses up towards them. Then, as everyone linked up their arms across the stage to take their bows, Copia would go down the line and hand each of the ghouls a flower.

The first time that it happened, it took Dew by surprise. Unsure how to react, he took the rose from Copia and put the stem in between his teeth, because—well, that’s just what his brain decided on in the moment. It made the flower snap in half, so after the ghouls made their way off stage and back to the dressing rooms, Dew tossed it into the trash can.

“You destroyed your rose immediately?” Aether slipped in between the other ghouls to stand next to Dew, shaking his head. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” he teased.

“It’s not a big deal,” Dew muttered, somehow feeling like he was disappointing Aether.

“Well, you need to have one,” Aether said as if it was obvious. He handed his own rose to Dew, and then quickly walked off before he could protest.

Dew brought the flower up to his face and sniffed it cautiously. He didn’t really know what to expect, since no one had ever given him one before. It smelled…nice. Tilting his head, he tucked the interaction with Aether in the back of his mind, so that he could revisit it later. For no particular reason.

The next time that Copia received a bouquet, there weren’t enough roses to go around. All of the other ghouls got one, but by the time he reached Dew on the far end of the line, he ran out. Instead, Dew received a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek from Copia—which was a pretty decent alternative, all things considered.

Once again, Aether noticed. “Here, take my rose,” he said after they got off stage, pushing it into Dew’s hands. “It’s even red this time!” he beamed, and looked at Dew expectantly.

Dew didn’t know why that was significant, but something about Aether’s excited expression told him not to ask about it. In his confusion, he didn’t remember to say thank you until Aether was walking away, so Dew ended up calling it out to his retreating back.

It kept happening after that. Even when Dew managed to hold on to his flowers after rituals, Aether gave his to Dew, without fail. He couldn’t figure it out—maybe Aether didn’t like them, so he wanted to get rid of them? At any rate, Dew began looking forward to receiving them. The attention was nice—especially when it came from Aether, a small part of Dew was willing to acknowledge.

Dew tried to save all of the roses, surreptitiously tossing them into his bag before leaving the venue. He didn’t know why kept trying, really, because the petals obviously ended up breaking off and getting crushed.

One afternoon, Dew was hiding at the back of the tour bus, cleaning up the mess of broken flowers. He jumped when he heard someone approaching, and shifted his body over to hide what he was doing.

It turned out to be Rain, and ever the perceptive ghoul, he saw anyway. “You want to preserve them?” he asked, looking at Dew curiously.

“No—well, yes,” Dew gave what he hoped was a casual shrug. “They look nice,” he added, in a halfhearted attempt to explain himself.

“If you press the flowers flat in between the pages of a book, it’ll work better,” Rain told him.

“Oh, okay. I might try that, I guess,” Dew said noncommittally. “Wait, how do you even know that?”

“Sometimes Swiss gives me flowers,” he explained, which made sense. He could be unexpectedly sweet like that, especially to Rain. “Anyways, come outside when you’re done. All of us are leaving soon to get food,” Rain said, and then turned to leave.

As soon as Dew was sure that Rain was gone, he rifled through his belongings until he found a tattered book that he had bought eons ago, under the misguided thought that he would get bored enough on tour to read it. (That wasn’t true, of course. Scrolling endlessly through social media was so much easier.)

Carefully, Dew picked out one of the still intact petals and slid it inside the book. When he checked back a couple of days later, it had worked, just as Rain said. So after that, Dew made sure to do the same to the other roses he got from Aether. From time to time, Dew cracked open the book to admire his collection. Which was a totally normal thing to do, he told himself.

Finally, things came to a head one night when the ghouls were out at a bar, a few blocks away from the hotel where they were staying. Their (perhaps ill-advised) plan was to get drunk and burn off the pent-up energy they had before the next night’s ritual.

Dew was staked out at a small table in the corner, brooding over a bottle of cheap beer. He was usually more social, living up to his reputation of being loud and boisterous. But tonight, he was preoccupied with watching what Aether was doing.

Every so often, Dew flicked his eyes toward the end of the bar, where Aether was shoulder to shoulder with the stranger next to him, deep in conversation. Dew found himself annoyed. Why was Aether making friends with random people, when he could be doing something better? Like talking with Dew, for example.

“Hey,” Rain suddenly appeared and sat down next to Dew, who gave him a dejected wave. “Why aren’t you over with the group? You’re missing out—we’re all making fun of Swiss for doing something dumb.”

“I’m just not feeling it tonight,” Dew shrugged, but Rain wasn’t having any of it. He tracked Dew’s gaze over to the bar and heaved a dramatic sigh.

“Stop moping around and staring at Aether. Just go up to him, if you want him that bad,” Rain rolled his eyes.

“I’m that obvious, huh,” Dew muttered into his drink.

“If you proposition him, he’ll say yes,” Rain said encouragingly.

“Gross, don’t say it like that,” Dew said, even as he perked up. “How can you be so sure?”

“Hey, I just said it in a way that you’d actually understand. Since Aether’s hints keep flying over your head,” Rain said. “Do you really not get why he gives you flowers?”

“I don’t know, because he doesn’t want them?” Dew guessed.

“No,” Rain said patiently, as if explaining something to a small child. “It’s because he wants you to have them.”

Oh.

Oh.

“I have to go,” Dew said, standing up abruptly. Rain just laughed and pushed him toward the bar.

Once Dew was up there, he squeezed into the tight space between Aether’s seat and the wall. “Hey Aeth,” he announced his presence.

“Hi—oh, it’s you,” Aether said when he turned around. His face lit up with a wide smile, one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. It was so obvious, now. How had Dew not seen it before?

Now that Aether was looking at him, Dew wasn’t actually sure what to do—he hadn’t planned this far ahead.

“You should come talk to me, instead of wasting your time with them,” he said bluntly, motioning at the person on the other side of Aether. Maybe he should have tried to be nicer, but Aether should know by now that wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

Aether cocked his head. “And why should I do that?” he asked in an amused tone.

“Because you give me flowers,” Dew said, hearing how out of context the words sounded as soon as they came out of his mouth.

But Aether understood. “So, you finally figured out what I’ve been trying to tell you?” he asked, hopeful.

“Yeah. Well, Rain did,” Dew said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in his general direction. “I didn’t realize it meant that you…like me, or something,” he trailed off at the end, afraid of voicing it out loud.

“Gifting flowers is a customary way of demonstrating affection,” Aether pointed out, teasing. “It’s called romance—maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Dew blushed slightly. Affection?

“Sure, but that’s not really my style," he tried to play it off. “Usually I just…see that someone is interested and jump them.”

Aether hummed. “So why didn’t you do that this time?”

“I was nervous,” Dew admitted reluctantly. “I thought you might not want that.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” Aether said, and reached over to hold Dew’s hand tightly.

Dew grinned at that, and once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop. “Want to go back to the hotel? Then you can show me how wrong I am,” he said.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Aether laughed. He quickly stood up and started tugging Dew across the bar to leave. 

On their way out, Rain caught Dew’s eye and winked at him. Dew shot him the finger, still smiling, and followed Aether out the door.

I'd like to request a SwissTom/DewTher double date please. Up to you if it gets spicy or not

I am very much stretching the definition of a double date here, but I had an idea that I could not put down.

Contains a very, very, very small mention of a Rite Here Rite Now spoiler. But just in case.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

This is it, Dew thinks, settling back farther into his adirondack chair, condensation from his beer dripping over his fingertips. Aether's in the chair next to him, a bonfire glowing a few feet ahead of them on the lakeshore, and the air is comfortably warm as the sun sets behind the forest surrounding the Abbey. This is the reward at the end of it all, all of the work, piety, loyalty, and literal blood, sweat and tears Dew's put into the Ghost Project.

Rain's still in the lake, bickering playfully with Aurora and Sunshine while Cirrus and Cumulus wring water out of their hair, wrapping towels around each other as the air starts to cool. Mountain's ducked into the woods to tap into the stash of firewood he keeps hidden for pack nights like this. Papa- no, Frater- No. Copia's asleep in his own adirondack chair, paperback open and resting on his chest, readers askew on his nose.

Aether sits next to Dew, taking a big swig of his beer, lime wedge shoved down into the neck of the brown glass bottle. His other arm hangs off the side, reaching just enough to twine his pinkie with Dew's. The touch is grounding, and Dew shuts his eyes, swallows his own mouthful of beer. They don't need more than this, every word has already been spoken between them, engraved into their minds the same way they have matching scars in the crooks of their necks.

A few feet away from them, the relative quiet is broken by soft chatter, Swiss practically giggling at something he said that Dew couldn't hear, matching Aeon's laughter. The two of them have practically been glued together since the end of the Re-Imperatour, and tonight is no different. Swiss leans back in his chair, and Aeon sits sideways in his lap, legs dangling over the armrest. Their horns click as they lean in to whisper to each other.

Dew runs his tongue over his fangs at how cloyingly sweet the two of them are. "I don't think we were ever that bad, right, Aeth?"

Aether snorts, finishing his beer. "I couldn't tell you, darling. We weren't looking in on us from the outside. We might have been that bad."

Dew tugs at his pinkie. "Yeah, you were so fucking desperate once you got it through your thick fucking skull that I was into you."

Even in the firelight, Dew can see the way Aether rolls his eyes. "In my defense, I'd never dealt with water or fire courting rituals before I met you."

Swiss starts, turning over to them. "You talking courting rituals, big guy?" he laughs. Gold and purple eyes practically glow in the firelight.

"Nah, we're talking about how the two of you are practically one ghoul now," Dew cuts in, setting his empty beer bottle onto the ground beside his chair to pick up later. "Haven't seen you take a breath without each other since probably Los Angeles. No, wait, it was after Sydney."

Aeon laughs, shifting closer in Swiss's lap with a soft chuff. The way they nuzzle their cheek against Swiss's doesn't help their case. "Gettin' caught up on lost time, it had been a really long time since I'd been touched nice."

Dew bites the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, I know, voidling," he says softly. Remembers the scent of terror that'd permeated the bus in the early nights of the tour. Remembers the way Aeon had shook against him the first night they'd shared a bunk.

"But Swiss, pup?" Aether teases. "You've got a whole pack of ghouls wrapped around your finger who'd be more than happy to give you affection, and you choose him?"

"Hey!" Swiss protests, throwing a middle finger at Aether as he hauls Aeon impossibly closer with his other arm. Aether just laughs, gold fang glinting in the firelight.

"I'm just saying," Aether shrugs, standing with a groan. "Any of you want another beer?"

"Please, starshine," Dew says, his pinkie still entwined with Aether's. He reluctantly lets go, lets his arm fall back to his side.

"I'll pass," Aeon says, mismatched eyes shutting with a heaving sigh. The air's starting to get a little chilly, and Dew bets the voidling's using that as their excuse to press even closer against Swiss.

"Me too," Swiss says, and Aether cocks his head at him, lips quirked up in a smile.

"Alright," he says, rummaging through the half melted ice in the cooler to pull out two beers. He sets his down to pull out the bottle opener, passing the first one to Dew. The fire ghoul takes a long drink, raising the bottle in thanks. Aether settles back into his chair with his own, tucking the bottle caps in the pocket of his shorts.

"No, but seriously, you're going to give us all cavities with how sappy you're being," Dew says, even as he reaches over the edge of his armrest to take Aether's hand. "How's the dental at the infirmary again, Aeth?"

"Well, it's where I got this," he says, tapping a claw against his gold fang. "So we're in luck. You two can keep being ridiculously sweet."

"Come on," Aeon whines, tail flicking behind them and whacking against the legs of the chair. A log shifts in the fire, sending flickering orange embers into the darkening sky. "We're not that bad."

"There's no way in hell that you two weren't as touchy," Swiss cuts in.

Dew laughs, copper eyes narrowing into slits as he gestures with his beer bottle. "Well. Seeing as you weren't summoned until a year and a half after we started courting, you have no fucking ground to stand on. For all you know, we were perfectly chaste."

"The two of you?" Swiss laughs. "Chaste?"

A tall shape passes in front of them, silhouetted by the fire. Mountain puts another few logs onto the bonfire. He turns to face the pairs, hands on his hips. "As the only one in the pack who was here when the two of you finally got your shit together, I can say with absolute certainty that the two of you were way fucking worse, Aeth, Dew. How the two of you managed to make the entire bus reek of sex in that tiny fucking bunk, Satan only knows."

Dew sputters, glancing between him and Aether. Swiss cackles. The quintessence ghoul grins, raising his beer in a toast. "Nema to that."

Mountain pulls up another chair, ruffling Aeon's hair playfully, running a knuckle along Swiss's horn. "Now, no more bickering. I'll chaperone this little double date, don't worry."

The five of them burst into laughter. It's so loud it startles Copia awake, and they can't stop laughing long enough to explain or apologize.

Let's not forget how they scream that everyone is a pedophile.

We need to talk about christians playing the victim and crying wolf when they see marginalized people who portray themselves as satan, satanic, or demonic.

I see videos on tiktok of christians going on paranoid rants about satan infiltrating society and the entertainment industry "being evil" when its clearly a reaction of marginalized queer people and poc who are using their spotlight to make christians uncomfortable for their bigotry.

"They're letting the evil one take over their lives! Satan has taken them over!"

No, actually, you did this. It's your fault as a christian. No, seriously. You made them feel evil for just existing. In the idea of your ignorant beliefs, your "god" made them perfect - as we all are - and you saw someone different from yourself and went "thats satan." You ruined their self-image as a community of poisonous bigots. You made them suicidal and depressed and institutionalized them for being different until it literally became illegal to do so.

And if you participate in christianity, you're part of the problem, and yes, you deserve to feel bad about the way these people get treated. If you don't want to feel bad anymore, reform your beliefs and take a good hard look at what your religion does to people it doesn't approve of. If you don't want to do that, just be mad and scared - we don't care.

God forbid you accept the fact that, yes, it was you who did this to them and not "satan." God forbid they accept the way you treat them instead of killing themselves like millions of others have. God forbid you have to share the earth with those you tred on.

God is not real and neither is satan and if you demonize your fellow man it takes away from every human being's personal responsibility to treat every other living creature on this planet as an equal and instead it lets you slap a label on whoever and whatever you dont like so you can decide who deserves to die without feeling bad about it.

People you dislike aren't satanic. They just shrugged and put on the costume YOU forced onto them from birth.

Is it scary? Yes. Is that the point? Also yes. Be afraid.

Boo, bitch.

The most powerful ghoul!! ;3

swiss' big fat crush on aurora. discuss. who makes the first move. how does it go.

OOOOOH

not hcs, not a ficlet- just me talking. If this is wack, it’s cuz I wrote it in Tumblr Mobile and I’m also Intoxicated !

Swiss was there when she was summoned. He watched her crawl out of the Pit. Watched how she fought her way topside, snarling as she entered the world, and he was smitten.

He doesn’t see her for a while after that. Recovering from literally clawing your way out of the depths of hell is no easy process. In that time, Swiss develops a bit of a… fixation. Can’t stop thinking about how powerful she looked in the summoning room, how alluring. For the next little while, Swiss has a one track mind.

When will I see Aurora again?

After a couple weeks, she moves into the ghoul den, and Swiss can’t help but follow her around like a lovesick puppy. The others tease him for it, but he doesn’t care. Can’t find it in himself to stay away.

For once in his life, Swiss’s signature charm fails him. He’s dead terrified to talk to her. She’s just so pretty. He tries to approach her and just comes off as super creepy, gawking at her and tripping over his words.

She secretly thinks it’s adorable. Loves to watch him flounder. She plays hard to get just to watch him squirm, acting like she isn’t just as flustered.

He FINALLY decides to make an actual move, after much encouragement from Dew and Mountain. They even offer to help. Mountain pretties up the greenhouse, Dew cooks a fancy dinner for two, and Swiss approaches Aurora.

He barely gets the words out, shaking in his damn boots where he stands. He’s real awkward about it, blushing and stuttering, but he manages to invite her for dinner in the abbey’s greenhouse just before sunset.

She LOVES that he’s nervous. Gives her a sense of superiority in a way, knowing she’s got Swiss wrapped around her finger. He’d be so easy for her, and she’s worked up by that- more than she’d admit until later.

So that night, she walks into the greenhouse and Swiss FREEZES. Everything he wants to say absolutely gone from his mind.

She looks hell-sent in the best way possible, her hair sleek and shimmering, her horns polished to a near-reflective gleam.

She flashes him a coy smile as she approaches him. “Swiss- you look lovely. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Hwahh?”

He’s never been so damn dumbstruck in his LIFE. Can’t even greet her. It takes all of his effort to even close his mouth.

She giggles, strides right past him, and sits at the cute little table that Mountain decorated.

Swiss realizes something in that moment.

He’s fucked. In way over his head with this one. He’d let her ruin his life, no hesitation. There’s no hope for him.

And he’s going to love every second of it.