walkinghell

[walkinghell]

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[walkinghell]

“The flood, the feeling comes over / How are you so loved and so lonesome?”

Been thinking about Dew and Mountain being the last two left, through three Papas now, and just needing each other now more than ever (that and all @forlorn-crows had to do was say “yes please” to more mountaindew and that’s all the excuse I needed 🖤)

[walkinghell]

bringing this back 😚

[walkinghell]

i think we should wait with naming the new ghoulette until we see her on stage and what instrument she plays c:

[walkinghell]

I have no caption, just grim reaper iii manspreading

Tip jar

[walkinghell]

Cozy Dew

(although he doesn't really need the winter clothing)

Tip jar

[walkinghell]

This took a while but here's part 2 of my ghoul designs, this time with Phantom and Aether

Part 1 can be found here

Headcanons under the cut:

Quintessence ghouls:

They often have two-toned hair and can be different shades of blue, violet, and gray

There is a slight glow that can be seen from their eyes and mouth, their eye color is the same as their tongue color

They can easily blend in around gargoyle statues as some of the statues in the ministry are inspired/modeled after previously summoned quintessence ghouls

The most "human-passing" among the other ghouls

Phantom:

There was an accident during his and Aurora's summoning ritual due to a build-up of quintessence magic, this caused the right side of his face to become deformed

Because of this, his face is partially frozen so he exaggerates his facial expressions to show his emotions

He makes use of quintessence magic to sense things on his blind side meaning he will know if someone sneaks up on him but lets them surprise him anyway to play along

Aether:

He's not the tallest in the pack but the buffest, he often has tasks in moving equipment and other things

He flicks his ears unconsciously when he's annoyed though it does help him hear things better

At one point, he was very self-conscious about his tooth gap but the others reassured him that he looked fine (Don't ask Dewdrop if he thinks Aether's smile is cute, he is in denial)

[walkinghell]

Can I give ifrit feminine rage as therapy or is that a no go

[walkinghell]

Walking Hell or just Lis, if you like.

INTJ. Disaster bi. 💗💜💙

Writer and occasional artist, neuro-divergent, and crafting enthusiast.

She/her or she/they.

21. Fragile old lady.

MDNI

Sleep Token and Ghost enthusiast.

[walkinghell]

Touches

Summary: Aeon wakes up from a nightmare and Dew makes things better

Rating: Explicit MDNI!

Warnings: explicit sexual content, hand jobs, knotting references, nightmares.

Dewdrop's barely awake when someone brushes against him. And worse (or better, depending on the guest) Dew's certain he went to sleep alone.

He waits to acknowledge them until they move again, keeping him closer to the edge of consciousness than he’d like.

“And why are you moving so damn much?”

“Sorry.” The whisper comes.

Aeon. Dew realizes.

“What’s up, bug?” He hums, rolling over to see the young ghoul.

“Just can’t sleep,” Aeon replies.

Dew can tell it’s more upon seeing Aeon’s red-rimmed eyes and damp lashes as they drive under a streetlight

“Yeah? Something scary?”

Aeon’s lower lip quivers as he nods and something in Dew’s chest tugs.

“C’mere, bug.” Dew sighs, pulling the younger ghoul closer.

“Didn’t wanna wake you, but it scared the shit out of me.” He whimpers, and Dew registers how wrecked Aeon’s voice is—likely sobbing or screaming himself awake.

Being summoned leaves scars deeper than the skin.

Dew’s lips meet Aeon’s forehead before he can think, empathy winning over any difficulties with the new ghoul.

“I know. I had the same problems when I was summoned. And when my element was changed.” Dew whispers.

“You did?” Aeon whispers, bright amethyst eyes meeting Dew’s amber.

“Mhmm. Most nights, I ended up in Aether’s bed for the first few months I was topside. He pumped me full of a fuck ton of quintessence just to ward off the night terrors. Even then I still woke up screaming some nights.” Dew admits.

“That bad?”

He nods softly.

“Does getting sent back hurt worse?” Aeon whispers.

“Dunno, bug. I know elemental changes hurt like a bitch, but I haven’t been topside before. You could ask Swiss. Why?”

Aeon rests his head against Dew’s chest before answering. “I’m scared, 'cause I’m going back after this tour…”

“Says fucking who?!” Dew said, shooting up so fast he hit his head on Mountain’s bunk above.

Aeon flinches as Dew makes contact with the bunk, reaching for him as Dew rubs his head.

“Say’s who?” Dew repeats.

“Swiss and Mountain said I was temporary…”

“Well, you’re not. Aether left cause he’s fucking tired. And as much as we miss Aether, you’re staying, so get that shit out of your head. You’re not going back to the pit.” Dew said sharply.

The, I won’t let you, was left unsaid.

“I’m not?” Aeon nearly sobs.

“No. You have to understand, we lost 3 ghouls before I changed. Then we got 3 new ghouls. Aether wasn’t supposed to go anywhere. He was our rock. But he’s tired. Yes, Mountain’s struggling, and Swiss is attached. But you’re not leaving .” Dew hisses, drawing the younger ghoul up into his arms.

Dew rocks him slightly, warming himself to soothe Aeon as sobs wrack his body.

Anxiety and relief flow through their pack bond in equal measure.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dew whispers. “Who else is gonna quint my shitty knee on tour? Not Swiss.” 

Aeon chokes out a laugh and Dew smiles against his hair.

They stay like that until Aeon settles and the affection turns into something else for him.

“Dew?” He whispers.

“I know, bug.” Dew hums, having already felt it through the pack bond.

Aeon allows himself to be guided to lay against Dew’s chest, legs spread over Dew’s open thighs.

Aeon cranes his neck up to connect their lips as Dew’s hand slips beneath Aeon’s waistband to stroke his hardening length.

“Fuck…” He gasps.

“I know, bug,” Dew whispers.

Dew flicks his wrist until Aeon’s writhing and whining before running his thumb across the prespend-soaked head.

“Such a good boy for me”

Aeon’s voice breaks on a moan and he bucks into Dew’s touch.

“S’good. Fuck, s’good.” He gasps, chest heaving.

Dew’s other hand presses fingers against the seam of Aeon’s lips. “Get them wet, Swiss borrowed my lube.”

Aeon sucks Dew’s finger into his mouth like a kit nursing.

Soft, muted whines burst from him as Dew’s hand continued jacking him off.

Dew pulls his fingers free and plunges them beneath Aeon’s waistband, gently massaging his ring of muscle before pressing in a finger.

“Dew!” He cries.

“Shhh, I know. I know.” 

Aeon lasts 3 curls of Dew’s forefinger before begging for more.

Dew happily obliges.

Aeon’s knot swells beneath Dew’s hand as he spreads his own pre over him like lube.

“Feel that, baby?” Dew purrs.

Aeon nods fervently at the increased pressure around something so sensitive. “Please!” He sobbed, bucking up into Dew’s touch.

“Your pretty little knot gonna pop for me? Gonna get all messy for me?”

Dew’s fingers crooked up into Aeon’s prostate and the quint wailed as he arched up, coming in ribbons across his chest and down Dew’s hand.

Dew gently squeezed his knot to provide enough to carry Aeon through his trembling orgasm.

“Dew!” He sobbed.

“Shh, love.”

Dew eased his fingers from Aeon’s clenching hole and reached for the wipes on his shelf.

Cleaning Aeon, he eased the quint against his chest.

“M’tired.” He mumbled, a soft purr kicking in as he curled against Dew.

“Get some rest, love. I’ll be here.”

As Aeon dozed, Dew’s phone buzzed.

Glad you and the newbie are getting along, but can you keep it down? - Swiss

Quit telling him he’s going back to the pit, or I’ll kick your ass.

Dew set his phone down and fell asleep against his little quint. Entirely missing Aether’s text.

Copia said you’re taking care of Aeon. I’m so proud of you.

[walkinghell]

I've been wanting to do this post for a while now so here is EVERYTHING I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT THE GHOULS' IMPERA COSTUMES.

Buckle up because I have a LOT to say about those, this is gonna be a very long one.

The costumes were designed by B Åkerlund, a Swedish costume designer who's worked with Ghost since at least Meliora (that's as far back as I was willing to scroll on her Instagram page lol). B Åkerlund has also worked for many other musical artists such as Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Madonna, the Rolling Stones, Ozzy Osborne, Blink 182 and Hollywood Undead (information from her own website)

The masks were made by Bob Basset, a visual artists who works a lot with leather. I find his work fascinating, you can look him up on Instagram (nsfw warning, there's a few naked ladies).

Fun fact! The horns are real cow horns. That's the reason some of them have gold tips, to hide the imperfections that come with working with actual horns.

He does have a shop where he sells his items, there's a mask there very similar to the Impera ones. You can also buy Papa's batwings if you happen to have 2500$ lying around!

The jackets are made on the same model as one of Papa's. The back is decorated with a spine-like design made from leather and cording. It's adorned with a few of our classic Impera buttons. Some of the hems were left raw and some deliberate weathering was done to make it look old and worn.

Fun fact! The shoulder pieces are not sewn into the garment, I would assume for easier cleaning. I don't know if they're held by strong magnets or snap buttons.

The vest (my beloved 😩) is made from flocked velvet in a paisley pattern, the front hems embellished with satin piping. It closes in the front with custom metal clasps that are riveted into the garment. The D parts are attached with what seems to me like wide elastic, which would lessen the pression on the clasps when moving around a lot. The back is made from two different types of fabric, I'd have to touch it to be able to tell you what they are. I assume the panels closer to the sides have some mild stretch to them. The top of the shoulders are decorated with Impera grucifix patches.

The shirts were not custom made for the ghouls, altho they were altered. The original shirt in the vintage painter linen shirt from Punk Rave and it is still being sold. Some of the cuffs were altered, removing the ruffles for some of the ghouls, but not all. They were removed for Dew, Mountain and Phantom, Aether's didn't have them either. As far as I can tell, all the ghoulettes still have them.

An unfinished piece of linen serves as an ascot, that piece is decorated with a metal devil skull. The colour of the skull doesn't appear to be consistent between each ghoul, Dew's looks gold almost bronze while Phantom's is a silver-like colour.

Another modification is the buttons, a small portion of them were removed in favor of our Impera buttons. Some of the ghouls have more buttons replaced than others, which is still a mystery to me.

The pants are called Jodhpurs, they were invented in the 1800s as horse riding pants. The wide part at the hips and thighs allowing for better movement. The ones the ghouls wear don't reach all the way to their ankles, they stop a bit past the calf muscle, hidden by the boots. (Yes, the ghouls are effectively wearing capri pants)

The boots are motorcycle riding boots, decorated by a grucifix. Like the shirt, they can still be bought online through the All American Boots website, altho the price tag is... Headache inducing to say the least.

The cape is a piece of costume that was only briefly worn on stage by the ghouls, Aurora being the only one who still wears one. I would assume it gets in the way of playing very easily. The cape itself is made of two fabrics, a light blue satin and a dark grey suede. The two pieces are not sewn together at the bottom, they move freely from each other. The cape is attached on the left shoulder with a harness piece that has one strap across the chest, decorated with a metal buckle, and one under the armpit.

Aight that's it for me, have a nice day byyyyye!!

[walkinghell]

I'm back, bitches.

LET'S TALK GHOST AND QUICK CHANGES

Because when you're in an intricated costume and you need to change literally between two songs, ya gotta go fast!

This all stems from me finally being able to tear away from Dew's gaze when looking at this picture.

And noticing a snap button under the "regular" button. Because altho regular buttons are sturdier, they also take longer to undo than supermaning your tailcoat. So here, they're purely decorative.

It's not the only time this trick's been used, let's look at one of Copia's Impera looks.

Right below the embroidery and right above his hands. Yup. Snap buttons again.

And here's another little trick for you.

See the front of the vest? Looks like it might open there too, right? With that embroidery in two pieces instead of all in one panel? Looks very neat, is it a hidden zipper? Snaps again? Well you've been fooled, my friend. Do you knkw what's easier and faster than removing a vest that opens from the front all by yourself? Opening it from the back and letting someone pull it from your front.

That's right! ✨Velcro in the back✨

God I love stage costumes and their practicality. Anyways, that's it for me tonight, see you again soon my darlings, I'm working on a Prequelle ghoul master post!

[walkinghell]

this is for everyone who also subscribes to the disabled rain ghoul agenda

[walkinghell]

Clouds Don't Perish (They Dissipate)

Think you could get off this road?” Kate hollered, “feel like I’m in a paint shaker.”

Tyler glanced at her with that mischievous smile, the one her mom had deemed his “shit-eating grin.”

“Short cut!” he yelled back.

“I can see the map, you idiot, this is twice as long!”

He shrugged, “I got you alone in this truck for the first time in a week. I’m goin’ the long way ‘round.”

“Your plan is to fuck me in some random field, isn’t it?”

He snorted, “sure as hell is now!”

He released his full-throated laugh, revealing all of his perfect teeth, crow's feet splaying out from his sunglasses. She loved that laugh; it should be labeled a contagion. The man could suss out the fun in nearly any situation, and his exuberance nearly always stirred Kate from her occasional tendency towards re-erecting emotional barriers. 

This was one of THOSE moments wherein Kate perceived her own contentment: bouncing around the cab of his truck, Tyler singing (not well) along to Lydia Loveless blasting, windows down, kicking up a trail of rocks and dust behind them. 

Backward cap, button-up green flannel, and the now ever-present perfectly manicured two-day scruff (possibly motivated by Kate mentioning the pleasing sensation of his unshaven face between her thighs) were absolutely doing it for her. He caught her gazing and leered back suggestively, waggling his eyebrows over the top of his sunglasses. She dissolved into laughter. 

She felt her phone vibrate so she lengthened her torso and yanked it free of her side pocket.  The lit screen displayed, “Mom.”

  “I was just thinking about you,” she said by way of a hello.

Tyler’s head whipped back to her in interest, tipping his head low enough for his eyes to be seen over his sunglasses. He raised his eyebrows in question.

Kate mouthed “mom,” and the easy smile returned to his face. He twisted the dial, lowering the volume of the music and raised the windows with a flick of his finger.

“Hi Cathy!” he called.

“And where are you guys at today?” Cathy questioned.

“Close actually. Like, uh, 20 miles north of Tulsa,” Kate peaked at the radar projections again, hoping for something more promising. “We’ll probably stay in that area today, unless things change.”

“Well, if things don’t change and you want to come home, you can invite your crew to save a few dollars and stay at the farm.”

“Did she say hi back?” Tyler nagged, and Kate scowled and waved him off. Her mother’s aloof demeanor brought out a rare obsequious quality in Tyler, and this usually amused Kate. At the moment, she just wanted him to shut up.

“That would be amazing.  I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

Tyler interrupted, “appreciate what?”

“Mom invited us all to stay at the house tonight.”

“Just made my day Cathy,” he yelled at the phone.

“It’ll be nice,” Cathy continued. “I’ll make a mess of barbecue.”

Kate’s mouth watered at the thought of real food, “that sounds so so good.”

“Call me later and let me know.”

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up, stowed her phone in her pocket, and Tyler asked again, “did she say hi back?”

“Yeah, she says hi,” she lied, and then swung her head towards the backseat to tell Addy and Praveen about the barbecue food waiting for them. 

Later, even with hindsight and self-awareness intact, she would be astounded by her certainty that they had been an arm's length away, faces lit with excitement. Addy even pushed her glasses up with her wrist, just as she always had, her glasses ever-slipping and her hands ever-full.

Kate gasped and caught a peripheral of a smiling Jeb at the wheel. She threw herself against her passenger door and screwed her eyes shut, pressing the palms of her hands into her sockets.

“Kate?” Jeb said, concern lacing his voice. No, not Jeb. TYLER said, concern lacing HIS voice. Tyler Owens, she corrected her stupid brain. 

“You okay?”

She didn’t look up, keeping her palms planted firmly against her eyes. A sob escaped her mouth instead of the reasonable explanation she intended. Why did she sound like that?

“Whoa, whoa. Kate? Hang on.” She felt a hand on the top of her head, but she still didn’t move. If she didn’t move, she reasoned, perhaps this nightmare would conclude quickly.

She felt the truck swerve and stop, the rumbling of the engine cut out. What should have been silence overflowed with the sounds of hyperventilating and an approaching freight train. 

She felt sure her death was imminent. Her body shook uncontrollably, and her heartbeat pounded ferociously, attempting to break out from her chest. She had unconsciously pulled her knees up and had formed a tight ball with her body.

“What’s going on? Can you hear me?” Tyler sounded as if he was in a tunnel. Shit. Maybe an underpass.

She thought she might be able to speak, but gasps and sobs colonized the space where words should be.

“Can you try and look at me?”

Kate released the pressure on her eyeballs and attempted to tip her head up to see Tyler but her vision was completely blurred by tears. Was she crying?

Her teeth chattered, and Tyler placed a hand on her cheek, “I think you’re having an anxiety attack.”

“No,” she sobbed, “I don’t, I don’t have them anymore.”

Was that her voice? Kate doubted it. That didn’t sound like her. 

Blurry Tyler’s head nodded, “Let’s say we just try to take some deep breaths anyway.  It can’t hurt.”

She realized that the thunderous freight train was an oncoming tornado. People always describe the sound of a tornado as a train, but she wouldn’t have described it as such before now. 

For her, tornadoes sounded like monsters, growling and roaring. She looked out the windows, frantically searching the bright horizon. Where was it?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Tyler cooed, “You’re okay.”  

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was fucking okay. 

HER tornado was coming for them, and she couldn’t even see it! She could hear the change of the roar to the cacophony of whooshing and clanging when it’s devoured Praveen and clamoring for Addy. The bellowing while yanking Jeb from atop her. The deafening barrage when it’s aiming to suck Kate out from an underpass. Fucking stop. Stop. STOP!

“Kate?” Tyler tried again. 

“I can’t. Can’t make it stop,” she cried, her thoughts jumbling, her mind jumping time. Past, present, past, present.

She suddenly launched herself forward, peering into the back seat to see if they were still there.  They weren’t, of course, because they were dead. They wouldn’t be eating barbecue today. Not any day. They were dead. She knew this. She’d known this for a long time.

She planted herself back in her seat, and looked into Tyler’s face, clenching with concern. Maybe worse than concern. Shit, he thought she was crazy. He had a point. Sane people don’t see ghosts.  Sane people don’t hear invisible tornadoes. 

She clamped her hands over her ears, trying to dampen the bellowing and keening, “Stop. I just…please stop.”

Tyler carefully pulled her hands from her ears, “Kate, look in my eyes. Can you see me?”

She focused on his vivid seaglass-green eyes. Where did his sunglasses go? She nodded and stammered, “Yes. I. Yes.”

“Okay, good. You’re doing good. Now listen to me. Stop trying to make it stop.”

Stop trying to make it stop. What the fuck was he talking about?

“Just focus on me if you can. Be here with me.” He kept her trembling hands in his, but she pulled them back from his grasp. She quickly checked the backseat again. Empty.

“Keep your eyes on me.” 

She refocused upon his face, nodding. 

“Atta girl, okay, we’re going to breathe together now.”

  His movements seemed exaggerated, his chest and mouth moving slowly, “okay, breathing in two three four, and out two three four, breathing in two three four.” 

She attempted to mimic him but couldn’t figure out the actual mechanics of breathing, and this terrified her even more than riding shotgun with her dead friends. 

“Can’t,” she shook harder, her teeth clacking together. How do you breathe!? How?

“That’s okay, that’s okay. I’m going to breathe and you just listen. You’re doing fine.”

“Not fine,” she stammered. 

“You will be. Y’hear me? This won’t last much longer. It’ll be over soon. You’re gonna be okay.”

She shook her head; nothing was okay.

“C’mon Kate, let’s get some air. It’ll do you good.”

“No!” she grabbed his forearm, frantically looking outside. Didn’t he know how much danger he was in? A new wave of fear rippled through her body.

“You’re safe. I promise,” the sincerity in his voice almost made her believe him. “Let’s look at some clouds. You’re not in any danger. It’s going to be okay Kate. Trust me.” 

He placed his rough warm hand over hers, and she looked at his arm where she clutched him, knuckles white, fingernails plugged into his skin. She felt paralyzed. She couldn’t even rotate her eyes off the soft hairs on his tawny arm. 

“I’ll be with you, and we’ll just look at some clouds. Just you and me. Just Tyler and Kate, okay?”

She had no memory of agreeing, of releasing his arm, or of him exiting the truck and moving to her door. She blinked, and he leaned in the open passenger-side door, expectantly waiting for her. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do or say. Did he ask her a question? 

His face was achingly soft, eyes balmy with affection. He slipped his arm around her back and one under her knees, “this okay?”

She nodded, and he scooped her into his arms, lifting her from the truck cab and using his booted foot to close the creaking metal truck door.

He crossed the road and ambled into a low-growing field of green.  He carried her, but she was the one panting in uneven sporadic bursts, clutching handfuls of his soft flannel shirt.

He murmured softly to her as he walked through the field, “it’s alright. You’re alright Kate. I’m right here. Just going to look at some clouds. Just breathe. You’re alright.”

She tucked her head against his chin, desperately attempting to anchor time to his voice.

“This looks like a good spot. We’re going to sit for a spell and see if we can find some clouds, okay?”

“K,” she mumbled, and she felt him nuzzle her forehead with his scratchy chin.

“Smell that?” He lowered them to the earth with a soft grunt, her body draped across his lap.

“Do you smell the clovers, Kate? They’re blooming. Love these. White ones smell better than the crimson ones.”

She could smell them. The growing ground heat released the morning petrichor from last night’s rain - wet and sweet with a light floral perfume. 

“Smells nice,” she mumbled, and he gave her a praiseful squeeze in response.

“Bumblebees are louder than the damn birds. You hear em?”

He was purposefully engaging her senses, she realized. How did he know what to do?  Why couldn’t she remember? She was the one who had over forty of the damn things. New York rules: if at work, run to the restroom, hide in the stall, and endlessly flush the toilet to cover sounds of crying and panting.  Fucking useless skills in this situation.

He considered the sky for a moment and then smiled down at her face, “look up Kate.”

She tilted her head back, neck cradled in the crook of his arm, and saw the sky bluer than it had a right to be. To the east, she spotted a big bouncy cumulonimbus tower with a bulbous bottom layer. 

“What are you seeing?”

“Mammatus,” she whispered.

He chuckled happily, “yep. What else?”

She watched them move for a moment, a gorgeous slow roll. Her eyes caught another edge of the sky, and she lifted her heavy arm, which felt weirdly unattached. She wiggled her fingers. They did what she told them, so they must be hers. Raising her thumb to the sky, she measured a cloud.

“What time is it?” She croaked, throat dry, her voice slightly foreign to her.

He raised his wrist, “let’s see, it’s uh nine fifteen am.”

“Altocumulus.”

“Damn straight, altocumulus. Beautiful, huh?”

“Beautiful,” she agreed. She knew they were beautiful, but she didn’t actually feel the beauty.

He shifted her off of his lap, arm still curved under her neck and tentatively lowered them both to the soft bed of green clovers, “better vantage.” 

She barely noticed, following the white clouds with her eyes like a meditation.

After a few moments, he pointed at the sky, “dragon.”

She followed his finger and spotted the dragon in the clouds, “I see it.”

She pointed next to it, closing one eye to better focus her vision, “banana.”

“Yup.”

The dragon’s torso elongated and detached, and its head resembled a dot to a dot from her childhood activity books.

Tyler pointed at the dissipating dragon head, “oatmeal.”

“Cheating.”

“It’s not cheating. It’s oatmeal. Oh, oh, wait, no, now it’s grits.”

She smiled - the impulse natural, the action dull and stiff.  She only heard birds tweeting, Tyler’s soft breathing, and an occasional bee buzzing by. 

This was when she realized that she wasn’t panting, crying or hallucinating. She felt slowed like moving through water, and a debilitating mix of shame, embarrassment, and guilt settled within her chest.

“We should go,” she frowned and tried to sit up, seized by dizziness.

“Should we?” Tyler sat up and placed his hand on the middle of her back. She pulled away with none of the subtlety she intended. 

“We were supposed to meet up at that QT off seventy-five ages ago Tyler.”  Look at Kate, stringing a full coherent sentence together.

“I called Boone. Remember? Told everyone to meet us at your mom’s.”

When did that happen? Tyler’s face telegraphed that she should easily recall this memory, and she hadn’t even a hazy version floating around in her mind. Nothing.

“Oh,” she said dumbly.  “Sorry.”

“For what?” He asked, cupping her elbow with his hand. 

“Don’t,” she pulled her arm from him.

“Okay,” he scooched himself back a bit with a kindness she interpreted as pity. 

“Sorry,” she snapped, knowing she sounded irrationally angry, but completely unable to control her tone.

“S’okay Kate,” he folded his elbows over his knees and picked a white clover flower, spinning it between his index and thumb. 

She lay flat on her back so she could again stare at the sky and not his sweet ridiculously understanding expression.

“It’s not okay. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“Not your fault.”

“It really is,” she glanced at him.

He cocked his head, “a panic attack isn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not that.”

He tentatively lowered himself alongside her, giving her more space than she now actually wanted. A moment ago she felt too ashamed to have his hands on her, and now she wanted to climb inside him and disappear.  Make up your mind, Kate.

After a bit of silence, he asked, “your friends? Is that what you think is your fault.”

“That was my fault,” she scoffed. “It’s pretty well universally agreed that they died as a consequence of my reckless actions.”

“Who the fuck would agree with that?” His outraged tone astonished her. She found it unnatural to see the fire in his eyes presenting as fury instead of desire. “Someone blame you for what happened? Who?”

Instinctually, she tempered his anger with vague assurances, “it doesn’t matter. It’s stupid. My point was that I don’t need you to tell me that it wasn’t my fault. Can’t change it anyway.” 

He sighed audibly, “I know you’re freakishly good at finding tornadoes, honey, but you don’t got dominion over ‘em. Got some omnipotent power I’m unaware of?”

They quieted, and she tried to not mentally replay her panic attack in a feeble attempt to avoid a self-conscious rut.

“It’s just so beyond fucking humiliating.”

Surprise flashed in his expression, “but, Kate, it’s just me.”

She couldn’t look at his face, so she looked at the sky again, “I don’t want you to see me like that.”

“Beautiful and brave?”

“I’m not sure I’m either of those things at the moment.”

“This is grief and trauma and your body reacting to that.”

“It’s been almost six years!”

“Not a set time for this shit, Kate. So just try to be gentle with yourself, will ya?”

She reached for his hand, grasping at his rough fingertips.

“Hasn’t happened in so long. Just surprised me.

“Do you know what happened?”

“I, um, I saw them. In the truck.”

“Saw who?”

She blinked and tried to say their names.

Tyler filled in the blanks like he majored in it, “oh, Addy and Praveen?”

She nodded.

“Jeb too?” 

Their names sounded wrong in his mouth, but she drew comfort from his familiarity with what mattered to her.  They mattered.

“Mmhm.”

“I figured.”

“You figured?”

“Yeah.”

She almost laughed, incredulous, “you FIGURED that I hallucinated my very dead friends sitting in the backseat of your truck?”

He smirked, “Something along those lines. My brother, he had panic attacks. PTSD from Afganistan.”

“I didn’t know that; you never talk about him.”

“We don’t see each other much; he lives in Idaho. I was only ten when he came back. Brain injury from an IED. I sat with him a lot during his panic attacks.”

She mentally conjured an image of child-Tyler, “that’s an awful lot for a ten-year-old.”

He winked, “well, I was an exceptional kid.”

“I bet you were,” she smiled genuinely, her face now just a foot from his.

“Once we figured out most of his triggers, that helped loads.”

“I think it was the barbecue.”

“What?

“Barbecue.  My mom, when she called, she offered for the team to stay over and said she’d make barbecue, and she said the same thing the day they died,” her speech gradually took on a frenetic pace, “and just like I was on automatic, I started to tell them, Praveen and Addy, you know, and they were there, and then it was happening all over again, and you know the shittiest thing? It’s that really here I am, and they’re not. And did I learn anything, no, I’m just doing it all over again really, just in a truck with you, taking people I care about to their deaths and am I doing the same thing, did I learn a fucking thing? No, no, I just keep doing what I want to do because I’m so goddamned selfish and -“ 

Her chin started to quiver, and she became breathless again when Tyler interrupted, “you’re the least selfish person I know.”

He brushed her hair back from her face, “also the most logical, so listen up: the team was here doin’ our thing before you met us. We’d be here if we’d NEVER met you. But Kate, with you, we just do more good, get more accomplished and generally have more fun. All because YOU are with us.”

Her eyes began leaking again, and she whispered, “want you to be okay.”

“Me? I’m here, next to you, on this gorgeous day. Kate, I’m better than okay.”

  With the shuddering breaths of a child all cried out, “I’m so fucking scared. I just. I don’t want. I don’t want you to die.”

She couldn’t fathom why she would say this out loud, when she barely recognized the truth herself. She felt pathetic and vulnerable, a combination she attempted to avoid at all times.

  “Oh Kate, darlin’ I’m not going anyplace.” He smiled his sweet little smile, soft wet eyes pleading with her, “thought I told you to be gentle to yourself.” 

She leaned her face into his hand, and inched closer to his chest. Tyler wrapped his arms around her pulling her flush against him.  She buried her head in his chest and wept, grateful he didn’t shush her. They let the tears and the little hiccups fade in their own time, his hand tenderly holding her head against him.  Her body relaxed into him, and she didn’t feel out of control. Just absolutely fucking heartbroken and so incredibly exhausted. 

She didn’t remember falling asleep; all she knew was awaking sweaty and confused within Tyler’s embrace.  

“I fell asleep.”

His voice was deep and rumbly, “sure did.”

She rolled onto her back, studying the grey sky, the sun’s blanketed halo in a confusing position.

“Jesus, what time is it?”

“One O’clock.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s fine Kate.” 

“It’s fine?”

She peered up at his ridiculously handsome face, “where’s the team?”

“Remember, they’re at your moms?  I texted them to meet us there.”

“Are they angry? That we missed an entire day?”

“No one expressed anything other than being thrilled to go to your mom’s house.  Everything fizzled out anyway.”

“Do they know? That I…?”

“Hm? Oh, no. That’s your call to make.”

She kissed his jaw and he peered down at her, “okay?”

She answered him by climbing onto his lap, straddling him. He sat up, clutching her, thumbs rolling around her hipbones.

“Feelin’ better, honey?” 

“I don’t know,” she responded honestly. “I don’t want to think about it right now. Just so tired.”

She brushed her thumbs along the grey hairs at his temples and kissed him slowly, stilling her mind to focus only on his soft salty mouth.

He ended the kiss after a moment and pulled his face back, examining her expression.

“What?”

“Just catching up,” he whispered.

“What does that mean? You don’t want to -“

“I want you now and always,” he pulled her hips tightly into his hard-on to punctuate his point. “Just checking in first.”

He captured her mouth with his, asserting his desire, and they made love in that clover field, just as Kate had predicted at the beginning of this unexpectedly fraught day.

A comfort-cloaked drive to her mom’s house further eased any remaining anxiety. Tyler played Songs: Ohia, Magnolia Electric Co, (for her, she knew) the windows down and warm air whipping her hair around as they distanced themselves from the morning’s pain.

When they approached the signs for her hometown, she turned down the music, “Tyler?” 

Her voice hitched, and she swallowed down tears that threatened a comeback.

“Yeah?”

She summoned all her sincerity, “thank you.”

“Anytime, Sapulpa,” he smiled, “You know that, right? Anytime. Anyplace. Whatever you need. Whenever. I’m all yours.”

She ran her hand lovingly down his arm, shoulder to wrist, “ditto.”

When they pulled up to a stop in the driveway, the sun rested low in the sky.  Besides daybreak, this was Kate’s favorite time of day, even as a child. All the work usually done, the day’s heat assuaged, dog-day cicadas quieted, and the sticky air would a call for iced sweet tea in jelly jars and unchallenging conversations on a creaky porch. 

Tyler and Kate walked together through the cool grass. As they approached the picnic table flush with their friends, everyone turned towards them like flowerheads to the sun.

“What kept ya?” Boone yelled as they got closer.

Tyler began to answer, but Kate cut him off neatly, “I had some trauma hallucinations, an enormous panic attack, passed out for hours and then seduced Tyler in a clover field.”

Tyler held up the grocery bag in his hand, “and we brought chips.”

She only let the awkward silence, shocked stares and open mouths sit for half a minute, “so, is there any of my mom’s potato salad left?”

Lily recovered quickly, “yeah, totally, Kate hand me one of those plates, and I’ll get you some.”

Kate passed her a plate, and Lily smiled as she scooped a generous glob, “sorry bout your panic attack. I got them for awhile back in the day. They suck. Hard.”

“They do. Thanks Lily,” Kate nodded grateful for the generous normalization Lily offered.

Dexter, adept at all types of navigating, added, “It's a good thing you got here when you did. I was going back in for another helping. Your mom could tempt angels with this potato salad.”

“Right?” Kate laughed, “where is she, anyway?”

“I think she was getting watermelon,” Dani said and jumped up from the table, “I’ll go help her. I gotta pee anyway.”

She quickly squeezed Kate’s arm affectionately as she passed and raised her eyebrows at Tyler when she sauntered passed.

“So tell me, what did this clover field seduction include?” Boone queried.

“It includes you shutting the fuck up,” Tyler’s voice was playful, but he shot Boone a disapproving look, as he pulled a plate from the stack and began piling on ribs, brisket and chicken drumsticks.

Boone raised his hands in surrender, “that’s fine, that’s fine. I’ve got an imagination.”

Lily rolled her eyes, “don’t be gross, Boone.”

“What?” he laughed, and with every passing moment, their usual ease of comradery returned. 

While she was conscious that evening, Tyler positioned his hand either upon her shoulder or entwined in her fingers, tethering her to the moments in front of her. At night, he settled in her bed, ready to pull her back should she start to slip into the past. 

He was generous, loving, kind, and patient. So, of course, she didn’t believe it could possibly last. She consciously tried not to stew in the terror of its inevitable end (their relationship, not his life, she isn’t thinking about that.) 

Instead, she attempted to soak in the (likely evanescent) Tyler minutiae: memorizing his specific expressions and predictable reactions, the dust and detergent smell of his soft flannels, his thin pink lips, his stiff jeans that invited lascivious thoughts, and that devastatingly infectious, nearly ever-present smile. 

**AUTHORS NOTES

I saw Twisters a couple weeks ago and came home and wrote this and three other stories. Then I went on AO3 and read EVERYTHING, and saw that others had written goddamned BRILLIANT pieces on the same subject. Discouraged about my own writing quality, I wasn’t going to post it. Since then, I’ve read nearly everything else posted in this fandom and realized that maybe creating and sharing imperfection is part of our fanfic social contract. This is writing potluck. As in, consume < create. In that spirit, here was one of my little fics. Hope it brought you a few minutes of the joy so many others bring me in their writings. 

[walkinghell]

think they make swiss wear a cock ring on stage so he can hump his guitar without ruining his uniform pants?

[walkinghell]

Spoiled

Rain nearly sobbed as he clenched once more, sending a gush of wetness down the toy he’d been sitting on.

“Hush, guppy, you’re supposed to be good now, you already interrupted me once.” Mountain said, not even glancing over the top of his book.

Is that why he's here? Thinking was so hard now, like this.

“Mountie…” He whined, shifting his hips just a bit.

Another gush of slick coated his thighs and he reached for Mountain’s knee to brace himself.

“Oh, guppy. You’re not supposed to be moving.” He cooed, setting his book down.

Mountain ran his fingers through Rain’s sweaty curls as he purred and rolled his hips again.

“Feels so good…” He sobbed.

Mountain dipped his hand, running fingers around where the toy was sheathed inside Rain.

“So wet, you don’t even have to have a real cock in you, do you?” He cooed.

He shook his head and leaned heavily into Mountain and moaned.

Mountain dragged his wet fingers up to play with Rain’s swollen little dick.

“MOUNT!” He wailed, clinging to the bigger ghoul.

“If you wanna come, you better work for it. You’re not getting this one for free, guppy.”

He rose on shaky thighs before dropping halfway down and sobbing as the toy hit something delicious.

“There we go, baby.” He purred. “Keep going, guppy.” 

Rain only made it halfway up before his thighs gave out, dropping him once again.

“Oh, baby. Can’t get those pretty thighs to work?” Mountain cooed.

“No.” 

Mountain removed his hand and stood. 

“YELLOW!” Rain cried.

“Shh, shh, what is it?” Mountain said, wrapping his arms around Rain from behind.

“Please don’t go, I can do it. Please lemme try agai-”

“Shhh…” Mountain hummed, kneeling behind Rain. “Touch your little dick for me.”

Rain obeyed and sobbed in relief as Mountain guided his hips up and down the toy. “Green like this?”

Rain nodded shakily and dipped his fingers into his dripping arousal before dragging them up to his dick. “O-oh.”

“I know, baby.”

Rain whined as a coil began to tighten.

“Mountie…” He breathed leaned back against the earth ghoul as his pleasure built.

“Keep touching yourself, baby. You’re doing so good.” He whispered, helping Rain roll his hips. 

“Can, fuck… will you touch my gills… please? Please?”

Mountain brought his fingers up and dipped them into the gills on Rain’s neck.

Rain straightened up and wailed as his release slammed into him full force, gushing around the toy into a puddle beneath.

“Oh, oh, Mountain.” He breathed, reaching back.

“Mmm-mm. Keep touching yourself. We’re just getting started.”

“Wha…”

“This is a punishment, baby. You know your safe word.” Mountain cooed.

“Petrichor.” Rain groaned.

“Now’s your chance.”

Only a whine escaped Rain as he let Mountain begin moving him again.

[walkinghell]

If you have Spotify reblog this and tag what your number one song on your “on repeat” playlist is.