Some People Had Questions For The New Era About How To Tell The Ghouls Apart. So I Made A Handy Flow

When you really need to get off the couch but your elderly cat is sleeping

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Humans can be twats and Omega is there to comfort Aether. (Fatphobic stuff mentioned)

Character: Aether, Omega Word count: 833

It was too late to be awake. The moon threw its light through the window, making the kitchen glow in the dark, and Aether didn’t bother to turn the light on. He was wearing boxers and - unlike him - an oversized sweater.

The quint rummaged through the cabinet filled with snacks and finally settled on a half-full bag of chips. He was hungry, his stomach grumbling for hours now, and it had got more and more unbearable with every passing minute. So he finally got up and decided to get himself something to eat. Aether regretted not eating lunch and barely anything at dinner, and he let out a satisfied groan as he ate the first chip while sitting down at the table.

He looked up when he heard steps and blinked against the light as it was turned on. In the doorway stood Omega, eyes tired and still in his day's clothing; he was coming straight out of the infirmary.

“Hey,” the older said, walking over to the fridge and getting himself a bottle of juice. “Why are you still awake?”

Aether shrugged weakly; he wasn’t exactly in the mood for a conversation. Omega leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the other’s back with a serious expression. He could smell the distress clearly.

“Do you want me to make you something proper to eat?” the taller asked then. Of course, he had noticed how Aether hadn’t really eaten today. “There’s still some dinner left.”

Aether tensed a bit, swallowing what was in his mouth, his gaze unfocused on the table.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he answered, hoping to not sound as restrained as he felt.

He heard Omega shuffle and then felt a big hand on his shoulder. Aether tensed, still not turning around.

“Can you stand up for a second?”

The question was not exactly unexpected, but Aether still let out a sigh. Why couldn’t Omega just leave him alone? He stood up nonetheless, hands pulling at the hem of his sweater.

“Come here.”

Aether walked over, biting the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, he was pulled in by the waist and lifted, ending up on the counter, Omega between his legs, hands on his sides, holding the love handles there.

“So, what’s wrong, hmm?”

The younger quint looked down and suppressed the urge to move, uncomfortable with the touch. But Omega understood nonetheless and put his hands on the counter.

“Aeth?” The voice was quiet but empathetic; maybe even a bit worried. It was unusual for Aether to be like this.

“I…,” he shrugged. “I know I’m fat, but I- It’s- Why are people so mean?”

He looked at Omega now, still unable to hold eye contact. Aether knew that not everyone liked Ghost, that there would always be hate towards any band, but the comments he had found were simply rude; and maybe true, he had no idea anymore.

Omega tilted his head to the side, watching the other’s face closely. The hurt he saw went straight to his heart. He knew about comments like that, knew exactly what Aether meant and how much they could hurt. But he also knew that they weren’t true, that people who commented such stuff were pathetic humans, deeply unsatisfied with their own lives.

“So that’s why you haven’t really eaten today?” he asked, understanding. It earned him a nod.

“There’s nothing wrong with fat, Aeth, you know that,” Omega stated then, his hands going to the love handles again. “But I know that comments can hurt really much.”

The older petted his own tummy with a smirk, hoping to lift Aether’s mood a bit.

“I know that having more on the ribs can be hard, Aeth. I know how mean humans are, but there are also nice humans, right?”

The younger looked him in the eyes now, tears swimming in his. He was tired and hungry and even a bit overwhelmed. The tears came naturally, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Omega put both hands on Aether’s cheeks now, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“You are beautiful,” he muttered. “We love you, Aeth. We wouldn’t want you any different.”

He pinched the other’s belly.

“Look at that cute belly and be proud of it, yeah? Remember how thin you were when Terzo summoned you… It just shows that you are happy and healthy and loved here.”

Omega gave him a smile, and he couldn’t resist the urge to smile back a bit. The tear that slipped down his cheek was wiped off by the other’s thumb. The younger quint pulled Omega close, arms wrapping around his waist, face shoved into his chest.

“Now come, you eat something that will actually feed you up, and then we’ll go to my room and get some sleep. And I’ve got a free day tomorrow, so how about I show you how much I love that belly of yours then, big boy?”

At that point, the grin on Aether’s face grew larger. ____________

It's time to say that as a fat person, the stuff i got to hear since i was like 10 years old is simply the dumbest shit ever and hurts really much. And those comments were the reason for my second panic attack ever and made by idiotic humans that deserve to be punched in the face.

gonna tag you here @miss-multi45 and my favourite rat @aweisz because they wanted Aether/Omega

Ghost dropping Satanized and the skeleton orgy grucifix in the era of heavy-handed censorship and purity culture that demands everything be as sanitized and "appropriate" as possible really is such a fucking breath of fresh air. Time to glorify and glamorize the obscene and disgusting (or whatever their profile said last week).

If you're comfortable doing so, maybe something that delves into Phantom/Aeons time in the pit and how his bad experiences there impact him now that he's topside

hey? hey anon? how did you know I've been wanting to talk about Aeon's parents for six months?

Contains child abuse and discussion of child abandonment, eye injury, and nightmares. Aeon uses they/them for themself, but their parents don't know that and use he/him for them.

(this does expand on lore I wrote for Eternal Heatstroke, but you don't need to read that to read this)

divider by @wrathofrats

"The kit's not getting any bigger, Oasis."

Aeon's left ear twitches at the sound of Caldera's voice, rough and crackling like her fire. They come to awareness, but don't dare open their eyes. They don't want their guardians to know they're awake yet, the sinking feeling in their gut telling them that they are not supposed to be witnessing this conversation. The ground is rough underneath their side, and the campfire crackles in flashes of orange even through their eyelids. The three of them have been settled here for a little over a week, about time to pack up and move through the older ghouls' territory, finding somewhere else to bed down.

"How many times have I told you that quint kits are called pups, Cal," Oasis sighs. There's the sound of a hand running over a face. Both of them have been doing that a lot more recently, and Aeon can't tell who it is without opening their eyes. The air is thick with sulfur and smoke, and it stings at their nose.

"Frankly, I don't fucking care what they're called," she says. "We've been raising him for Lucifer knows how long because we thought he'd be strong enough to help us defend our territory. And he's at the point he should have grown. He's still so small."

There's disdain in her voice, one of her paws tapping at the ground in irritation. Aeon's brow furrows. They're not small. They might be skinny, but they're a full head taller than Caldera is, just above eye level with Oasis. They do know that Cal's small for a fire ghoulette, has encountered other fire ghouls who've tried to claim what their guardians have staked as their own.

"Cal, you've gotta have patience-" Oasis tries to reason, but he's never been able to stop her. When Caldera sets her mind to something, Aeon knows she stops at nothing to get her way.

"How long have we been going hungry to keep him around?" she growls, and Aeon can almost hear the sparks from her tongue. "Years and years of our lives, I'm so fucking tired of waiting. The kit can hardly even use his magick and he's practically an adult."

"What do we even know about quintessence ghouls, Cal?" Oasis keeps trying to reason. "We can't teach him magick we don't even understand."

"I don't fucking care," Caldera snarls at her mate. "I'm done. Keeping him was your idea in the first place. You want to keep the kit around? That'll be on you then. But then I'm out."

There's a commotion, someone getting to their feet rapidly. "That's just fucking like you, Cal. You'd really give up on how long we've been mated over our son?"

Caldera laughs, loud enough that Aeon thinks they have a solid excuse to wake up. They keep feigning sleep though. "Our son? Oasis, are you insane? You were the one who thought a quintessence ghoul be a good investment for the pack."

Aeon's heart falls through their stomach, trying desperately to process what they're hearing. Investment. Oasis had always told them that he'd found them, small and abandoned, so young that their eyes hadn't even opened yet. That the two of them wanted a kit to take care of. They feel like the rug's been yanked out from under them.

They don't have much time to process it though, because Oasis sighs, tossing something back and forth between his hands. Aeon doesn't need to open their eyes to know it's a pebble, something that had caught his eye at some point. "Fine, Cal. But you tell him."

Aeon tenses as rapid footsteps approach their sleeping form, trying hard to not curl up into a ball preemptively. A hot hand grabs their shoulder, the threatening bite of sharp claws even through their threadbare shirt.

"Wake up," Caldera says, low and dangerous as she shakes their shoulder. Even though they had some warning, they still yelp, tail tucked between their legs. Their eyes go wide at the fury in Caldera's expression, her growl as she hauls them to their feet.

"Cal-" Aeon stammers, trying not to struggle against her grip. Knows it's easier to let her put them where she wants than to fight it.

"None of that, runt," she snaps, and both of their violet eyes go wide. She's never- They've never- "You're grown, now. It's time for you to find your own place."

"Right now?" Aeon says, tipping their head back and baring their throat, trying to appease her. All the while, Oasis stands by the fire, watching distantly. "Oasis, please tell her I can't."

"He's not going to help you, runt. We're both ready for you to go," Cal says. There's a fire in her yellow eyes, red and orange flickering in her irises.

They stammer, glancing back and forth between their guardians. "That's not true, I heard you talking-" Aeon freezes and cuts themself off as Caldera's expression morphs, grip curling tighter into the collar of Aeon's shirt, claws punching through the threadbare fabric. They can feel the keratin against their skin, and they swallow hard.

"Oh? So you were eavesdropping?"

"No- I couldn't help it!"

She growls, pulling hard and shoving them towards the campfire. They stumble, paw catching on the brimstone, and they fall hard, twisting onto their back to look up at her. "I'm not going to say it again," she snarls, looming above them. The firelight makes her features sharper, fangs shining. "Get the fuck out."

They slowly push themself up to standing. Aeon finds the courage in their gut to growl back at her, ears pinned back against their head, tail lashing behind them as they bare their fangs and get in her face. "I'm not fucking going anywhere, this is my pack too!"

Aeon knows it's a mistake the moment the words leave their mouth.

Caldera screams in frustration and rage. The last thing Aeon sees out of their left eye is her claws glinting dark in the firelight.

There's a shriek. Aeon wonders why their throat hurts until they realize it's them shrieking. The world spins, blinding hot pain radiating from their face and scalp, and they can feel their heartbeat in the marrow of their left horn. They can't see.

They can't see.

There's something hot and sticky running down their face, and they cup their hand over their eye, cringing at the wetness.

Caldera doesn't even flinch as Aeon's blood drips in rivulets from her claws. "You fucking heard me, you ungrateful brat. We've fed and taken care of you your entire life. You can pay us back by fucking leaving."

She lunges, and Aeon's feet act on instinct, scrambling away from her. They clutch their face, hearing the blood spatter, their shirt sticking to their chest, heavy and wet. Aeon's head spins, and Caldera's behind them, chasing, and Aeon's seen her hunt.

There's no chance of outrunning her, even as their legs scramble underneath them. They run, lungs aching and head spinning, and there's two pounding sets of footfalls behind them.

Aeon sobs, chest heaving with exertion. Their ankle twists in the brimstone, and they stumble into the ground. Blood and tears stream down their cheeks in equal measure. It's over. They're de-

There's a hand on their shoulder.

Aeon jolts awake with a yelp, scrambling backwards into the corner of the couch out from under a big piece of white fabric that was covering them. It takes a moment to recognize their surroundings, fluorescent lights, a big desk in the opposite corner, an empty office chair, slightly rotating like someone stood up in a hurry. A large shape backlit looms over them, making a strange, familiar sound.

Aeon snarls before the sound registers, their entire body slumping as Aether chuffs at them. "Hey, you're alright, pup, you're safe," he breathes, his big hand hovering over their shoulder, his silver bracelet glinting in the light. "You were dreaming."

They nod, reaching up to touch at the scars running through though their left eye and biting back a sob. Aether nods back, cautiously sitting next to the younger quintessence ghoul and pulling them close, chuffing all the while.

"My shift just ended," Aether whispers, shifting them until Aeon's practically in his lap. "Do you want to go back to the den?"

Aeon nods quietly. Aether gently wipes away a tear from the silvery track across their cheek with a big thumb. They've been shadowing him to learn about infirmary work, a few months away from actually working on their own. "You want a hug, pup?"

"Please," they whisper, shoving Aether's white coat off of their legs. They'd been using it as a blanket while they napped on the couch in his office. The bigger ghoul draws them in, chuffing and nosing at their hair.

Aeon settles, eventually, and they stand hand in hand. "Can we go home?" Aeon asks, and Aether smiles, flashing a gold capped fang at them.

"Of course, pup, let's go home to our pack."

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.

Mushy May, Day 5 (Animals) - Menagerie of the Damned

Inspired by Mushy May prompts by the fab @forlorn-crows. I'm a day late with this one but I'm a good Satanist and never follow the rules anyway...Also on my Ao3!

If you've ever been told it's "just a pet", Papa Primo has your back!

***

He had been sitting forlornly on the hard, wooden bench since the meeting ended. He should move really. His ass had gone distinctly numb and such a public display of weakness wasn’t fitting for someone who was about to become the figurehead of the global Satanic Clergy. He knew he must look a sight, his face blotchy and as red as his scarlet cassock. And yet his grief kept him here, weighed down like a stone in the stream of busy people moving along the corridor.

“We must say goodbye and I do not think I know how to, little one,” Copiah sniffed, wiping away a stray tear with the end of his fascia and absently scratching between the ears of the nut-brown rat in his lap.

He knew Sister Imperator was right of course. The logistics of the tour would be complicated enough without having to factor in transporting Eliza with them; the hotels and tour buses they must use would see her as vermin, not as the beloved pet she was. And she was getting old, it wouldn’t really be fair on her.

The bench shifting next to him roused him from his musings, making him startle until he looked, bleary-eyed, into the kind face of his oldest brother, Primo.

“I never did care much for this hallway,” the retired Papa groaned as he stretched out his legs in front of him. “Too drafty. Which is probably not good for the little one, eh?” He held his hand out towards the rat, who cautiously climbed into his and regarded him with twitching whiskers.

“I don’t know that there is any place good for her anymore. I must find her a new home but…who will want her? She is not so young anymore…Who can I trust to take care of her?” Copia replied, attempting to disguise the way his voice cracked by clearing his throat. “Sorry, I…I am being silly.”

Primo nodded thoughtfully as he stroked the rat with a single finger. Eventually, he placed the creature on Copia’s shoulder and heaved himself to his feet with a huff. “I may have a solution. Come.”

The older man had started to head off down the corridor before Copia had a chance to ask a question or compose his tear-stained state. Sure, now he can be sprightly he grumbled to himself, struggling to catch him up down the corridor.

They walked through the endless, labyrinthine corridors until Primo led them out into the gardens, past the greenhouses where Copia assumed the man spent most of his retirement. He hadn’t seen this dark, tucked-away section of the grounds before though. When they reached a gate set into some tall hedges, he gave Eliza a fond pat to soothe himself as much as to reassure her, and finally interrupted his brother’s contented humming. It sounded suspiciously like All Things Bright and Beautiful. “Where are we going?”

Primo beamed as he opened the gate and waved for Copia to enter.

His eyes widened as he gazed at the scene before him. A huge circular space; a stunning meadow flower bed at the centre and outlined by ornate aviaries filled with plants and shrubs. The roof of each structure was the green hue of oxidised copper and reminded Copia of the gothic bandstands he’d seen in older parks. They even had the pre-requisite spooky ravens and crows scattered around their wrought gables. Some had open mesh walls while others were enclosed by glass or blacked out entirely.

“I do not know when this structure was first built. Probably back when collecting animals was fashionable. Humans have always sought animals – especially birds – a symbol of status. Of power,” Primo hummed as he started to walk a lazy circuit, stopping to peer in at the two barn owls perched in a distant corner of the first aviary. Copia placed a protective hand over Eliza, but the birds merely ruffled their feathers sleepily and resumed their daytime slumber. “I restored this place, but like our Abbey, I aimed to offer sanctuary to all who needed it. Especially those who’ve been harmed by our ridiculous superstitions.”  

“So, it’s like a menagerie of the damned?” Copia murmured, walking further along and taking in more owls, ravens and a raptor didn’t recognise. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he caught the amber gaze of a fox before it darted into the greenery.

His older brother chuckled. “You could say that I suppose. We leave the hatches open to allow the birds and bats to fly free. I think you’ll be more interested in what’s at the other end though,” he nodded for him to follow towards the enclosed area on the other side of the circle.

The balmy warmth hit them the moment the door opened. A Sister of Sin looked up and smiled, apparently in the middle of cleaning out a huge stack of cages where a dozen or so mice happily scampered about. “Sister Frances,” he nodded kindly.

After sitting subdued on his shoulder, Eliza suddenly perked up and began chittering loudly in Copia’s ear. He soon saw why. At the other side of the former aviary was a huge enclosure, filled with toys, scattered bedding and the curious faces of three other rats. “Oh!” he gasped, unable to resist moving towards them.

Sister Frances followed, opening the front and allowing the three of them to skitter up her arm, where they peered curiously at newcomers. “Cannoli, Cornetto and Confetti. Papa always did have a sweet tooth,” she grinned up at Primo before returning her attention to the rat on Copia’s shoulder. “And who is this?”

“A new resident, perhaps,” Primo said placing a hand on Copia’s other shoulder. “If you are happy for Eliza to come here, it would be our privilege to care for her. And you’re welcome to come and see her at any time.”

Copia’s momentary delight in the rats evaporated into the muggy heat of the small building and he felt his expression pinch again. His treacherous tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them. “Sorry,” he mumbled, averting his gaze away from Primo and the Sister. “You must think I’m a pathetic fool.”

“Of course not,” Sister Frances murmured kindly, holding out her arm for Eliza to climb up so she could sniff at the other rats. “It’s always hard to say goodbye.”

“Indeed, fratellino,” Primo sighed. “You think you are being silly but let me tell you…not so far away we have a space where we lay departed souls to rest and there are plenty of our animal friends there. Terzo’s cat, Morpheus for one. Even Secondo’s snake. He dug the grave himself. We are not Catholics; we do not deny our animal friends a soul. If you love another living being there is nothing trivial about that love, si?”

Copia nodded with a hiccup, watching as the Sister placed the rats in the enclosure. He managed a watery smile as the three of them showed Eliza around the toys and feeding stations, like little realtors bragging about a property’s granite countertops and fitted wardrobes. “She looks like she fits right in,” he mused.

“She does. She’s very welcome. And we will take excellent care of here, fratellino, I promise you.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

SOUND THE DREAD ALARM!!! ☠️

Per’s first live. I could not watch the whole thing, but what I saw was pretty sweet. Got to see him cuddle his dog🤍

****DISCLAIMER****

I currently don’t care if Per is controversial in his dating practices. He seems like a decent guy in and of himself and it’s none of our business who he dates.

I’ve recently already been heartbroken to find out ONE of my heroes turns out to be a gaslighting jackass, and life has objectively SUCKED for me on a daily basis anyway, so yeah, please miss me with any Sodo controversy, right now. Thanks.

If I can live comfortably then why work?

I'm curious. what job would you do if money was no object (you just automatically had an income you could live comfortably on)? including work like volunteering, studying etc. please share in the tags :)

So probably not a loved idea, but I kinda want fanfics of The Manager ☝️ just cos I think it'd be funny and am curious as to how people would write him...

Like, he is his own character and just manages the band but with seestor's input.

Why is he so hawt?