#regressed dewdrop

Dewdrop hadn’t meant to sit down.

One moment he’d been standing in the hallway, noise all echo-y in his head - voices, footsteps, the low thrum of the Ministry - and the next his knees just… plopped. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold floor, back pressed tight to the stone.

Everything felt too much.

His gloves felt funny. His mask squished his face. The lights overhead buzzed in a way he couldn’t make go away. He curled up, elbows on his knees, hands twisting in his sleeves like he didn’t know what to do with them.

He tried to breathe.

It didn’t help.

His thoughts started to wobble, edges blurring, sharp frustration melting into something tiny and shaky. He rocked a little without meaning to, slow and uneven. He hated this part—the way he felt like he was shrinking when he didn’t wanna.

“Stop… get it togethers,” he whispered, voice tiny and squeaky.

Footsteps came closer, then slowed.

Frater Imperator stopped a little ways off. He didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t loom. He just stood there, quiet and soft, until Dewdrop noticed and stiffened.

“I’m… f-fine,” Dewdrop squeaked, too fast. “J-just… tired.”

Frater Imperator crouched down so he wasn’t so tall, bringing himself to eye-level. “You look… overwhelmed,” he said soft-soft.

Dewdrop shook his head, hair falling into his face. “I shouldn’t be. I can handle it…”

Frater Imperator watched for a long while, taking in Dewdrop’s tiny hands, the rocking, the eyes glued to the floor.

“Come w-with me,” he said at last, voice gentle. “We’re gonna make somethin’.”

Dewdrop blinked. “M-make… wha…?”

“A room,” Frater Imperator said softly. “One that’s quiet-quieter than here.”

Dewdrop hesitated, then slowly got to his feet. He stayed close as they walked, tiny fingers brushing the wall for comfort.

They stopped in a space—empty stone, forgotten, bare. Frater Imperator looked around, thinking.

“This’ll do,” he said.

Over the next while, Dewdrop sat on the floor and watched, little breaths soft in the quiet.

Frater Imperator dimmed the lights till they glowed soft and sleepy. Blankets—thick and warm—appeared in a basket. Pillows piled in a cozy heap. A low table, simple and safe, was set.

Later, Frater came back with little treasures: smooth stones, squishy putty, soft fabric bits, coloring pages, and fat crayons. He set them down carefully, like he was tucking them in.

“This room,” he said softly, “is for any ghoul who feels all squishy and too-full inside. Just like you now.”

Dewdrop hugged his knees to his chest. “I… I’m not… breaking anything?”

“Nope,” Frater Imperator said, gentle-gentle. “You’re listening to what your body needs, lil’ one.”

Dewdrop reached for a blanket with tiny fingers, then pulled it into his lap and wrapped it around himself. He curled smaller, softer, safer.

The room felt… different. Quiet. Soft. Like it was giving him a hug back.

Frater Imperator watched for a heartbeat, then smiled. “I’ll leave you to it for now, sweetling. Stay as long as you like.”

When the door clicked closed, Dewdrop was alone—but not lonely.

He tucked his chin into the blanket and breathed.

For the first time all day, the world felt… soft.

Dewdrop stayed longer than he thought he would. He traced the blankets with his fingers, let his tiny body melt against the pillows, and slowly, slowly, the hallway echoes and Ministry hums faded into a soft purr inside his chest.

He noticed the table with crayons and coloring pages. At first, he poked them nervously. “I… I shouldn’t…” he whispered. But the colors called to him. He picked up a green crayon, drawing a wobbly spiral. Then another. A few dots. Each scribble felt like leaving a little bit of him safe here.

“Good lil’ one,” Frater Imperator said softly from the doorway. Dewdrop jumped - then saw the door was just cracked open. “You can use all this. It’s yours… and for anyone who feels too squishy or tired. But right now? It’s just for you.”

Dewdrop’s ears turned pink. “I… I didn’t wanna… take up space…”

Frater Imperator crouched again, careful not to loom. “You’re not taking up space, snugglebug. This room is here because you need it. Because you’re precious. Every little stone, every blanket, every crooked star—it’s all okay.”

Dewdrop hugged the blanket tighter, sliding the crayons across the table, stacking a few pages, arranging stones. His tiny heart tickled with pride—it wasn’t claiming, it was… being allowed to exist without hiding.

“I… I like it here,” he murmured.

Frater Imperator smiled. “Then keep making it yours, tiny one.”

Dewdrop’s little hands rearranged pillows into a nest, tucked blankets around, lined up stones like tiny guards, and even stacked coloring pages in a neat-but-crooked little pile. Each movement made him feel braver inside, even though he was curled small.

“And when I’m all tiny and scared?” he whispered to himself.

“This room is yours,” Frater Imperator had said. “You are allowed. You are safe. You are loved.”

Dewdrop reached for another crayon, scribbled a happy swirl on a page, and hummed softly. Tiny, careful movements. Tiny purrs escaping his throat.

The guilt began to fade. Comfort seeped in. And for the first time in a long while, Dewdrop felt he truly belonged somewhere.

Dewdrop had just finished taping another crooked star to the wall when he heard the soft creak of the door.

He froze, hugging his blanket nest tighter.

“Aethie?” he squeaked.

The figure in the doorway stepped lightly into the warm glow. Calm, soft, like a slow tide. Aether crouched down near him, careful not to scare him.

“Hi, lil’ one,” Aether said softly. “May I come in?”

Dewdrop nodded, curling tighter. Fingers fiddled with a smooth stone as he watched Aether settle nearby.

“You’ve made this room so nice,” Aether murmured, eyes flicking to the crooked stars, the stones, the nest. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Dewdrop purred - a tiny, happy little sound. “I… I like it,” he whispered. “It’s… safe.”

Aether’s hand moved slowly toward him. Dewdrop leaned in, pressing into it. Purrs tumbled out, tiny vibrations running through him.

“You don’t have to be small alone,” Aether said. “You can let someone be here with you.”

Dewdrop snuggled closer, curling fully into Aether’s arm. Head tucked, little body relaxed. Every exhale calm. Every purr a soft drum of relief.

“You’re safe,” Aether murmured, chin on his head. “You don’t have to pretend. You don’t have to fix anything. You can just… be you.”

Dewdrop’s tiny fingers tangled in the blanket. He let himself melt. Purrs soft and warm, tears pricking his eyes from relief, not sadness.

“I’m glad you came,” he whispered, voice tiny, baby-like.

“I’m always here, lil’ one,” Aether promised. “Whenever you need me.”

Dewdrop wasn’t happy. Not at all.

Even in sleep, his body refused to rest, caught in a restless cycle of tossing and turning, his limbs twitching with every flicker of the nightmare that refused to release its hold on him. A low, distressed whine slipped from his throat, barely audible in the stillness of the room, his claws curling and uncurling against the sheets as if searching for something—someone—that wasn’t there.

Something was wrong. Something was missing.

The nightmare clung to him like thick fog, suffocating and inescapable, pressing down on all sides with a weight that made his limbs feel sluggish, as if he were trapped in something viscous and unrelenting. He could feel the cold creeping into his bones, an unnatural, aching chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, spreading through his body like an infection that no amount of warmth could chase away.

Alone. Lost. Cold.

The fear curled around his ribs, tightening with every uneven breath he took, every desperate call that left his lips only to be swallowed by the oppressive silence surrounding him. He called for Mountain—reached for him—but there was nothing. No warmth. No steady presence at his side. No solid hands to ground him, to pull him out of the darkness. Only the endless, suffocating emptiness that stretched on forever, swallowing him whole.

A soft, broken whimper escaped him as his body betrayed him, his limbs growing heavier with every passing second, his strength draining as though something unseen was taking it from him. He was stuck, trapped, unable to move, unable to run, unable to find what he so desperately needed, his mind spiraling deeper and deeper into panic as the feeling of helplessness wrapped around him like an iron vice.

And then—something touched him.

The shift was instant, his entire body going rigid, his instincts screaming before his mind had the chance to catch up, fear twisting into something sharp and blinding as he jerked upright. His breath hitched, panic surging through his veins like wildfire, his muscles coiling too tight, his body moving before he could think, before he could stop himself—

His elbow swung out, fast and hard.

A sickening thud. A startled, pained grunt.

His eyes flew open.

Everything was too much—too bright, too sharp, too real—and yet, his brain refused to make sense of it, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as his vision swam, his surroundings unfamiliar and suffocating all at once. His heart pounded erratically against his ribs, his claws digging into the sheets as his mind struggled to catch up, to understand—

And then he saw him.

Mountain.

Sitting up, his broad form barely shifting under the weight of the hit, his features still fogged with sleep and confusion as he pressed a large, steady hand to his side where Dew had struck him.

Dew felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, a sickening, lurching sensation that left him lightheaded and dizzy, his breath catching in his throat as his pulse roared in his ears. The panic that had already taken root inside him twisted and morphed into something far, far worse, something sharp and gut-wrenching that made his insides churn with guilt and horror.

He had hurt Mountain.

He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t even been aware—but that didn’t change the fact that he had done it, had lashed out blindly, had hurt the one person he had wanted—needed—to be there the most.

His breathing turned shallow, too quick and uneven, his body shrinking in on itself as the realization sent another violent wave of nausea rolling through him. He had to fix it. He had to do something—but his thoughts were running too fast, slipping through his fingers like sand before he could grasp onto anything solid, and the only thing his panicked, nightmare-drenched brain could come up with was—

Get away.

He moved without thinking, his limbs feeling too light and too heavy all at once as he scrambled backward, nearly falling off the bed in his rush to put distance between them, his chest tightening painfully as his mind screamed at him to go, go, go.

Mountain’s voice was rough with sleep and concern as he leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Dew?”

Dew flinched at the sound of his name, his claws twitching at his sides as his throat tightened, every muscle in his body wound so tight he thought he might snap apart at the seams.

“I—I gotta go,” he choked out, the words barely making it past the tightness in his chest, barely even sounding like his own voice, before his legs carried him forward, and he ran.

He didn’t stop.

Not until he was far, far away.

It didn’t matter that it had been an accident. It didn’t matter that Mountain was too kind to say he was angry, too patient to lash out, too Mountain to hold it against him. Because he must have been angry, right? Even if he hadn’t yelled, even if he hadn’t looked at Dew with anything other than concern, even if he hadn’t—

Dew squeezed his eyes shut, curling his arms around himself, his claws digging into the fabric of his sleeves as he fought the nausea twisting in his gut.

It didn’t matter.

He had hurt Mountain.

Even now, the memory replayed in his mind on an endless, suffocating loop—waking up in terror, his body moving before his mind, the dull, sickening thud of his elbow connecting with Mountain’s ribs, the way Mountain had grunted in pain, the brief flicker of surprise on his face before Dew had bolted from the room like a coward.

The worst part was that Mountain hadn’t even gotten mad. Hadn’t cursed, hadn’t scowled, hadn’t done anything but look at him with sleepy confusion, concern bleeding into his gaze as if he were the one worried about Dew.

And that? That was so much worse.

Because it left too much room for Dew’s mind to fill in the gaps.

Of course Mountain was upset. Even if he hadn’t said it, even if he hadn’t shown it. How could he not be? Dew had struck him, had lashed out like an animal, had run away like a coward without even checking to see if Mountain was okay. Just because Mountain was too kind to hold it over him didn’t mean he wasn’t angry. It just meant he was keeping it to himself, letting it fester, waiting for the right moment to actually let it show.

So Dew needed to stay away. At least for a little while. Let Mountain cool off. Let himself cool off.

And that was exactly what he did.

For the rest of the morning, Dew avoided Mountain like his life depended on it.

He stuck to the farthest rooms in the abbey, keeping his head down, making himself as small and unnoticeable as possible, lurking in the quietest corners where he knew no one would bother him. If he had to be around others, he made sure to position himself near an exit, just in case Mountain walked in.

At breakfast, when Mountain sat down at the table, Dew suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore, the mere thought of sitting near him making his stomach churn. He gripped his plate a little too tightly, his claws scraping against the ceramic as he muttered some excuse and left before Mountain could even look his way.

When he caught sight of Mountain in the hallway—broad-shouldered and steady as always—Dew shrank into the shadows, his steps light and quick, his heart hammering as he pressed himself against the cold stone walls and held his breath until Mountain passed.

When he heard Mountain’s voice from another room, deep and calm as ever, Dew’s ears flattened, his tail curling tight around his ankle as he immediately turned on his heel and went the other way, refusing to risk even a glance in his direction.

He was careful. So careful.

And yet, Mountain must have noticed.

Because more than once, Dew caught him looking.

It wasn’t much—just small, quiet glances, his brow furrowed in a way that Dew knew meant he was trying to figure something out, his head tilting slightly when Dew passed him without a word. At one point, when Dew had been too slow to slip away unnoticed, their eyes met across the hallway—just for a second, just long enough for Dew to see the question there, the faint flicker of something that looked almost like hurt—before he tore his gaze away and fled.

But Mountain never said anything.

And of course he didn’t.

Because Mountain was mad at him.

Because Mountain was just waiting for Dew to get over himself, waiting for the right moment to let the frustration boil over, to tell Dew exactly how disappointed he was, how stupid Dew had been for reacting the way he had.

Dew just had to wait for it to pass.

Right?

Because what if Mountain was mad? What if he’d just been holding it in, waiting for Dew to come to him so he could finally let him have it?

No. Dew would rather keep running than risk finding out.

Unfortunately, Cirrus had other plans.

He didn’t even see her coming. One second, he was slipping through an empty hallway, head down, steps quiet, already planning his escape route. The next, a firm hand snatched him by the collar, yanking him backward with surprising strength.

Dew let out a startled yelp, scrambling for balance, but before he could react, Cirrus shoved him into an alcove, pressing him back against the wall with one hand flat against his chest.

His heart jumped, panic flaring hot in his veins—but when he met her eyes, it wasn’t anger he saw. It was something worse.

Irritation.

Disappointment.

Like she was tired of whatever ridiculous thing he was doing.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her voice clipped, her piercing gaze locked onto his like she could see right through him.

Dew swallowed hard, claws twitching at his sides. “What are you talking about?”

Cirrus rolled her eyes, stepping back just enough to cross her arms over her chest. “Don’t play dumb, Dew. You’ve been skulking around all morning like a kicked puppy. I’ve seen you running from Mountain like he’s out for blood, and spoiler alert, he’s not. So why don’t you quit the theatrics and tell me what’s actually going on?”

Dew’s throat tightened. He looked away, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of her scrutiny. “It’s nothing,” he muttered. “Just—drop it, Cirrus.”

“Not a chance.”

"Dew sighed sharply, frustration bubbling up, but Cirrus didn’t budge. She just stared at him, unimpressed, waiting him out like she always did when she knew he wasn’t being honest.

And, okay, maybe he wasn’t.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it.

Still, Cirrus wasn’t going anywhere, and Dew knew from experience that she wouldn’t let up until she got something out of him.

So, reluctantly, he gritted his teeth and muttered, “I— I hurt Mountain.”

Cirrus blinked. “You what?”

Dew winced, his tail curling around his leg. “Not—not on purpose, obviously,” he said quickly. “It was an accident. I had a nightmare, and when he tried to wake me up, I panicked and— I elbowed him. Hard.”

Cirrus’ expression shifted slightly, her sharp glare softening just a fraction. But she didn’t say anything, so Dew kept going, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, voice tight. “But I still did it. And Mountain— he didn’t even get mad. He just looked at me. And I— I ran. Like a fucking idiot.”

Cirrus sighed through her nose, pinching the bridge of it like he was giving her a headache. “Dew.”

He clenched his jaw. “What?”

“You are an idiot.”

Dew’s ears flattened. “Wow. Thanks.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “You do realize Mountain isn’t mad at you, right?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t know that.”

Cirrus gave him a deadpan look. “I do know that, because I actually talked to him today. You should try it sometime.”

Dew frowned, something uneasy settling in his chest. “What did he say?”

Cirrus sighed again, her voice softer now, losing its edge. “He’s worried about you, Dew. That’s why he keeps looking at you. He doesn’t  care that you hit him—he just wants to know why you’re avoiding him like the plague.”

Dew’s breath hitched, guilt clawing at his ribs.

He had been so sure Mountain was angry. So sure that staying away was the right call.

But what if he had been wrong?

Cirrus must have seen the realization hit, because she nudged his shoulder—gentler this time. “Go talk to him, Dew,” she said, and for once, there was no teasing, no bite to her words. Just quiet insistence. “Before you drive yourself insane.”

Dew swallowed hard, his mind spinning, but deep down, he already knew she was right.

So, before he could talk himself out of it, he took a shaky breath—

Dew had wandered aimlessly through the abbey, his steps slow and uncertain. The weight of everything—the guilt, the worry, the constant feeling that he had done something horribly wrong—hung heavily on his shoulders. He couldn’t stay away forever, but he couldn’t bring himself to face Mountain either.

His heart ached with each passing moment, and he just needed something familiar, something safe.

When he finally found it, the warmth of the fire flickered from the hearth in one of the common rooms. The glow cast soft, inviting shadows on the stone walls, and the crackle of the fire was like a gentle whisper in the quiet room. He hesitated in the doorway, a twinge of uncertainty making him pause. But the warmth, the soft hum of comfort in the air—it pulled him in.

He stepped closer, his body instinctively seeking out the familiar warmth of the fire, a small, hidden part of him craving the comfort it offered. The flames danced brightly, their warmth sinking into his skin, and Dew felt his tension ease just a fraction.

He curled up near the edge of the hearth, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. The fire crackled, the room’s stillness settling around him like a heavy blanket. He closed his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to block out the heaviness in his chest.

His breathing hitched as something sharp squeezed at his heart again. The guilt. The fear.

His mind raced, and he found himself sinking lower, smaller, as if something inside him was craving the safety of his younger self—the time when things were simpler, when he didn’t have to carry the burden of his own mistakes. His body seemed to respond on its own, a wave of vulnerability rushing over him.

And then, just like that, he was younger.

His chest felt tight as tears sprang to his eyes, his breathing growing faster and more erratic. He was small again, so small and overwhelmed, his body trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t understand. His hands shook as they clutched his legs tighter, his knees pulled up to his chest in a desperate attempt to feel safe.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and before he could stop it, the floodgates opened. He buried his face into his knees, muffling the quiet sobs that wracked through his body.

He couldn’t stop it. The flood of emotion, the overwhelming wave of insecurity, guilt, and fear—it all just spilled out.

His mind kept repeating the same thing, over and over: I hurt Mountain. I hurt Mountain. I hurt him.

The fire crackled softly, but all Dew could hear was the pounding of his heart, the quiet sobs that refused to be held back, and the gnawing feeling that he had messed up beyond repair.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whimpered to no one in particular, his voice small and weak, like he was a child again. “I didn’t mean to hurt him… I just wanted to be… be good.”

His shoulders shook with each sob, the young part of him just wanting someone to fix it, to tell him it was okay, to make it right. He didn’t know how to do it himself.

And just as his sobs began to quiet, a soft, steady presence entered the room. The familiar scent of Mountain—warm and comforting—filled the space, and Dew felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t want to look up. Didn’t want to face him, not like this, not when he was so small and broken inside.

But then, a gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Dew’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Hey, Dew.”

It was Mountain’s voice, low and soothing, as always, full of the kindness Dew didn’t deserve.

Dew’s whole body tensed, but he couldn’t fight the sob that wracked through him. He finally lifted his tear-streaked face, his wide eyes searching Mountain’s as if looking for any sign of anger, any sign that he wasn’t forgiven.

But Mountain’s expression was soft—gentle, even. He knelt down beside Dew, careful not to crowd him, giving him space. His hand remained on Dew’s shoulder, comforting and steady.

“I’m not mad at you,” Mountain murmured, his voice like the warmth of the fire, soothing the raw edges of Dew’s panic. “You’re okay, Dew. You didn’t hurt me. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Dew’s tears only seemed to fall harder at the reassurance, the kindness that filled the space between them. He didn’t know what to do with it. His emotions, his fear, they had been too big for him to carry alone.

“I’m sorry,” Dew whispered through his tears, his voice small and shaky. “I didn’t mean to—hurt you… I just… I just—”

Mountain gently pulled Dew into his arms, wrapping him in warmth, and for a moment, Dew felt like he was back to being small and safe, curled up in his arms like nothing else mattered. His sobs began to quiet as the overwhelming feeling of safety wrapped around him, the warmth of Mountain’s embrace washing away the fears that had been holding him hostage.

“You didn’t hurt me, Dew,” Mountain said softly. “You never could.”

Dew let himself collapse into the comfort of Mountain’s arms, letting the tears flow freely, knowing that, for once, it was okay to be this small, this vulnerable. Mountain wasn’t going anywhere. And maybe—just maybe—he could let go of the fear that had been suffocating him.

For now, that was enough.

He closed his eyes, the quiet of the room lulling him into a space of peace. He felt small again, so small, like the weight of the world had lifted off his tiny shoulders. The overwhelming flood of emotions faded, leaving only the warmth and safety of the moment.

The sobs stopped altogether now, replaced by something softer, something that felt more like a need for comfort than a cry for help. Dew let his body go limp in Mountain’s arms, his hands now clutching at Mountain’s shirt like a small child seeking reassurance.

He felt the instinct to curl up even further, to make himself smaller, to let the security of Mountain’s embrace shield him from everything else. His thumb found its way to his mouth, a soothing gesture from childhood, and he sucked on it absentmindedly, his eyes half-lidded, unable to fully focus on anything but the warmth he felt in this moment.

Mountain didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He simply held Dew as he was, letting the ghoul’s body relax against his own, feeling the smaller form trembling just slightly, still caught in the remnants of his emotions. Mountain’s hand continued to stroke Dew’s back, a calming rhythm, never once pulling away, always offering comfort. He knew what Dew needed now more than anything: patience.

Dew’s breathing slowed, growing steadier as he sank deeper into the regression. The room around him felt distant, the fire’s warmth still crackling gently beside them, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was the steady presence of Mountain, his solid warmth, his quiet, unshakable support.

His mind, his thoughts, everything about him started to dissolve into a soft, dreamlike state as he regressed fully into the comfort of the moment. His body, still nestled against Mountain, felt so small, so innocent, like a child once again—free from the heavy weight of worry, free from guilt and fear. He could let go now. There was no need to hold onto anything anymore.

“Mounty” Dew whispered softly, his voice muffled in the warmth of Mountain’s chest, barely above a breath. “I feel… safe.”

"Come on, Dewcifer" Copia cooed softly, as the tiny fire ghoul wiggled on his little tummy. "Come to papa!" He continued to speak, over the adorable gurgles of Dewdrop. Phantom chirped behind him, he fluttered on his floor next to Aether.

"Go on little ones, go to papa" Aether chanted supportively. Copia's gentle coaxing filled the room as Dewdrop wiggled happily, responding to the affectionate words. He wiggles into the arms of Copia.

"Good job Dew, you clever boy" Copia continued to softly coo as he hugged the tiny fire kit, clad in his cat onesie. Phantom followed quickly behind him, wiggling on the soft space blankey underneath them . He wiggled around as he reached out to his favourite toys, a colourful xylophone and a bat plushie.

Dewdrop rose with his heart pounding, a sickening cold chill seeping down his spine  as the roaring thunder echoed loudly in his room. The sound of laborous rain pounded on his bedroom window. He tried to breathe, to calm himself but any efforts proved to be futile, as the storm barked ferociously, like a lion hunting its prey.

He stepped outside his bedroom, and tiptoed himself into the ghouls common room, where he was met with Aether, who was sprawled on the couch, deep in the transcendence between sleep and wakefulness. Dew turned on a soft light, careful to not startle the ghoul on the couch.

His hands shaky, he held onto his pajamas, as he anxiously pranced on the spot, wiggling his knees and flapping his elbows. He hesitated for a moment, before softly speaking

"Aether?"

Aether roused awake, concern raging in his eyes, as they fell upon the ghoul standing anxiously in front of him. He sighed, as he gestured for Dew to join him on the couch, seemingly notice the change.

"Are you...feeling small right now, Dew?" Aether asked, and a quick nod was all it took to confirm.

"I'm...scared, Aeae, can...I stay with you for a bit?"

"Hey, little droplet" Aether whispered, his voice flourishing with softness and comfort "you can stay here all you want"

"It's just a storm. We're safe here. You can be as small as you need to be right now."

He started to draw circles with his quintessence on Dew's palm, as he felt Dew relax slightly with his touch.

"...can...we...fire...and...cuddle...Aethy?"

"Yeah, of course, droplet" Aether lies down on the couch, as he lets Dewdrop rest his head against him, letting him listen to his heartbeat and the way his chest moved up and down.  Dewdrop, finding comfort in the cadence, closed his eyes, letting the sounds of the storm outside blend with the soothing presence beside him.

Aether gently stroked Dew's hair, his fingers moving in a rhythmic pattern, a gesture that attempted to calm the anxious ghoul down. The fire continued to dance, casting shadows that painted a serene tableau in the common room.

As Dewdrop rested, he still raised his head with every flash of light that filled the room, only to be gently guided back to Aether's chest as he had words whispered into his ear "breathe, little one, breathe, we'll weather any storm together, droplet."

"Aethy?" Dewdrop voiced himself, as he grabbed Aether's shirt

"Yes?"

"Thankies, Aethy, I love you"

"I love you too, darling" was Aether's response.

"Can you...tuck me in bed? I want...sleepy"

"Yes of course, darling" Aether's voice carried a delicate tone. He gently took Dew's hand and guided him to his room, he  lightly laid him on his bed. He covered the little ghoul with his favourite blankies, and planted a kiss on his forehead. The storm still rumbled on, but he felt a lot safer with the quintessence ghoul around him.

"...paci" Dew mewed, as he snuggled warm in the blankets.

"You want your dummy, firefly?"

Aether nodded, smiling gently. "Alright, let me grab it for you." He fetched Dewdrop's pacifier and handed it to him, his eyes glimmered as he noticed Dew gingerly flap  his hands with delight.

"Sleep well, little one."

Dewdrop nodded, his eyes heavy with drowsiness. "G'night, Aethy."

As Aether left the room, he glanced back one more time, ensuring Dew was settled. The storm continued its symphony outside, but within those walls, a quiet warmth enveloped the room.

The fire ghoul spurled around the room, his body wriggling and gleaming with energy as he chased around the laser pointer Cirrus was playing with around the ghoul common room. He had the been chasing the laser for hours before, and the energy of the ghoul came to no end as he bounced around the room.

“Deww! Its time for some shut eye! It’s 1 am dear” Aether's voice rang out in the ghoul common room, laced with nothing but concern for the fire ghoul. He stepped in front of the energetic rascal, his body exuding a presence of gentle calmness.

"But....Aefey! I don't want to go to bed! I'm not tired" Dewdrop whine, disappointment lingering in his eyes, his nose scrunched in disgust at the idea of being put to bed.

“I know, little firefly, but don't you want to wake up and have the energy to play tomorrow?" Aether spoke, as he gestured to Cirrus to put away the laser pointer.

”Aether is right, you know, I think it's time for us to go to bed“ Cirrus spoke, her voice croaky from all the laughter she passed in the past couple of hours.

”Not tired! Cirrus! Please can we play some more?" Dewdrop shot his words, as he pounced in the air and crossed his arms.

“None can do, kid” Cirrus spoke as she yawned “I'm off to have my evening shower, see ya in the morning Aeth! Goodnight little one!“ she cooed the last part to Dewdrop.

”We need to calm you down, firefly" Aether whispered.

“Aeth, five more minutes? I really want to run around! It's so fun!"

"Nope, all the other ghouls went to bed. Now would you be a good boy for me? I'll tuck you in if you behave" Aether spoke, slight irritation lingering in his voice.

Dewdrop's lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, showcasing the classic sign of a pout. The smooth curve of his lips now held a hint of resistance, a silent protest against the unwelcome suggestion of sleep. Even his fiery aura seemed to flicker with a subdued intensity, mirroring the conflicted emotions etched across his expressive face.

“Please Dew?” Aether begged, his usual friendly and warm eyes tinted with exhaustion, and a hint of concern. "Why do you even want to stay up, anyway?"

"Not tired, Aethy" Dewdrop confessed.

Aether looked at Dewdrop, his eyes reflecting a mix of weariness and amusement. "Come on, firefly, bedtime is calling, and even the laser pointer needs its beauty sleep."

Dewdrop's eyes widened at the mention of the laser pointer, torn between the allure of play and the idea that Aether used his emotions like that.

Aether chuckled, "You know, if the laser pointer could talk, it would probably be saying, 'Enough, Dew, I need a break!'" He mimicked a high-pitched, imaginary voice, eliciting a giggle from Cirrus.

Dewdrop, caught off guard by the unexpected humour, let out a small laugh but still looked reluctant. Aether seized the opportunity to continue the banter. "Besides, if you stay up all night, you'll turn into a nocturnal ghoul, and I'm not sure the others are ready for that."

Cirrus, who turned back from entering her room, joined in, "Yeah, Dew, imagine waking up to find yourself surrounded by sleepy ghouls trying to get ready for the day while you're bouncing off the walls."

The thought seemed to amuse Dewdrop, and his resistance waned as he envisioned the comical scenario. "Okay, okay, I guess I don't want to be the only ghoul wide awake when everyone else is snoring," he conceded with a grin.

Aether seized the moment, "That's right, firebug" Now, let's make bedtime a grand adventure. I'll even tell you a story about a mischievous fire ghoul who learned the importance of a good night's sleep."

With a playful twinkle in his eye, Aether led Dewdrop towards his bedroom. It glowed with the warmth of red and gold hues, evoking the essence of dancing flames. Adorned with tapestries and artwork depicting swirling fire motifs, the room's focal point was a bed with crackling ember-patterned sheets and flame-carved headboard. In a cozy corner, a lava lamp added a mesmerizing touch, its molten wax mimicking the fluid movement of lava, casting a dynamic play of light.

Dewdrop climbed into the bed, as Aether threw some blankets on his body, as he tucked in the ghoul.

"Cosy, my love?" Aether cooed softly, as he tuned on the lavalamp.

“Bed time story, please?” Dewdrop asked

"Absolutely, my little Dewcifer" Aether replied with a tender smile, the warm glow of the lava lamp casting a soft radiance across the room.

As Dewdrop nestled into the crackling ember-patterned sheets, Aether began to weave a bedtime story, his voice a soothing melody that harmonized with the gentle flicker of the fiery-themed bedroom. The tale unfolded like the dance of flames, carrying Dewdrop into a world where fire ghouls embarked on enchanting adventures beneath the starlit canopy. The lavalamp's liquid glow echoed the story's rhythm, creating a tranquil ambiance that embraced them both in the comforting warmth of the fire-themed haven.