#trifle writes

She stands in the doorway of his room, a blanket roughly wrapped around her midriff, caught in the door as it trails behind her. It’s as if she’s been frozen in both time and temperature given how she just stops once the fire ghoul wakes up, rubbing his bleary eyes.

“R-rory?” Ifrit asks, processing the sudden appearance of the new summon in his bedroom. Why his bedroom? “What’s up, pumpkin?”

Through chattering teeth she manages to mumble out an explanation. “Cold, ‘n heating b-broken in the wing,” she stutters. “Can I…?” Her sentence runs off into nothing, her brain subdued by the cold.

“Oh- uh- yeah of course, let me just put on my dressing gown and I’ll be out of your hair.” He scrambles to get out of bed, not even noticing he’s still wearing his I ♡ MILFs boxers. The ghoulette giggles when he turns around to reveal the text on them, the most coherent noise she’s made since arriving at his door.

“No, silly! I want you in the bed too, how else is it going to keep warm? The heating’s fucked everywhere, even in here.” Ifrit goes to touch the radiator and, sure enough, it’s stone cold, much like the walls throughout the Ministry.

Disrobing once more, a confused look still paints his face, “Why me? What’s that little shit Dew up to now, hmm?”

“Nothing! Just everyone else already went to him so I figured you’d be the less popular choice and you have more surface area,” she says cheekily.

“Oh?! So you’re calling me lonely and fat? How lovely!” He teases, smiling wide, striding towards Aurora to pick up bridal style.

She gasps as Ifrit picks her up, cocooning her in the blanket. “Nuh uh! Jus’ saying Dewdrop’s overrated and you’re built like a dorito.” He carries her the short distance to the bed, it’s entirely unnecessary but they both revel in the faux act of chivalry on Ifrit’s part. He knows damn well Aurora is a princess and will treat her like one even if it’s through the lens of a goofy idiot.

The mattress wobbles as Ifrit ungracefully dumps the ghoulette onto his bed. Aurora inspects the plush navy sheets before plumping the accompanying pillows and dragging her finger along the headboard to inspect for dust. “Hmm seems to be up to standard Mr Fritter,” she says sternly, though Ifrit can see the smile building up and threatening to break her character. “I can confirm I will be gracing your bed with my presence today. Thank you for your application to Rory Bed Hog Limited and welcome aboard!” With that, she flops down, pulling the duvet right up to her ears, the blanket she arrived in abandoned.

“Why thank you Ms Rora, we here at Fire Ghoul Incorporated do hope you enjoy your stay. Please let us know of any requirements you may have to make your visit as smooth as possible.”

The ghoulette attempts a reply but they both burst out laughing before she can; her hearty chuckles jostling the bed. Both ghouls take a moment to collect themselves, taking deep breaths and averting their eyes from each other’s gaze because they know the second they look up they’ll crack up again. With one final grounding breath Aurora asks, extending her hand to the fire ghoul, “Join me?”

“My pleasure,” Ifrit replies, enveloping her hand with his and jumping into the bed with her. He pulls up the duvet and blankets, near covering Aurora’s small frame in them.

The strap hangs heavy in its harness on Rain’s hips, leaving slight red marks; highlights on his blue, dusky skin. Mountain’s on his back and Rain’s kneeling in between his legs, both ghouls raking their eyes over each other, taking in their beauty. Mountain, a sage forest filled with moles and scars; the rich, luscious trees that stand within. Rain leans over, drawing a line with his index finger, making its way from the tip of his sturdy antlers, right down through every mark that makes him, landing on his bush. His hips involuntarily kick at the touch, eager for more, his eyes shining as Rain looks down at him, a silent please. Rain trails his finger further, teasing the very end of his clit and watching as it twitches under his touch.

“So pretty for me, woodland, I could devour you,” Rain admires.

Mountain groans, “I could say the same for you, my love.” As he says it his gaze travels across the contours of Rain’s body, noting the way his inky hair contrasts the hue of the skin surrounding it. And how his shoulders frame the rest of his body perfectly, from his chest to his ass. Looking into Rain’s eyes he sees them dilate as they make eye contact once again. Mountain wells up ever so slightly, he’s loved, he feels special, he’s Rain’s person.

The finger circling Mountain’s dick leisurely moves further down, still tracing the earth ghoul, committing him to memory. “Fuck, you’re soaked, Mount,” he says, still surprising him every time that he’s wanted and appreciated. The ghoul beneath him can only hum in agreement, lost in his own mind as he revels in Rain’s touch. The water ghoul hovers, asking silent permission to continue. Mountain grants it as he closes his eyes, throwing his head back gently and baring his throat. They both moan quietly as Rain’s cool finger enters Mountain’s cunt. He takes his time exploring, as if he’s finding out what makes the other tick for the first time. It’s intimate, both ghouls lending a vulnerability that makes every sensation more powerful than the last.

“Ready,” Mountain squeaks. “Want to feel you.”

“Want you too, baby. Gonna treat you so well.”

“You always do, Rain.”

They don’t need to confess their love through prolonged monologues, just a few words is all they need to feel as close as their first time. With both ghouls more than ready, Rain carefully lubes up every inch of the strap, ensuring his love will be as comfortable as possible. He teases the earth ghoul, languidly stroking his cock in his efforts. Once he deems it wet enough, he positions himself properly, bending Mountain’s legs and leaning forward to kiss him as he slides in steadily.

The room goes silent for a moment as they adjust to the new position before Mountain returns a chaste kiss that inevitably devolves into a disgustingly sweet embrace of each other’s bodies. Rain nuzzles his head in the crook of Mountain’s shoulder as he thrusts gently into him, taking his time to do so. Mountain near-melts at the sensation of the water ghoul’s fluffy hair against his neck and turns his head to affectionately nibble on his ear. Soft moans and the tender contact of Rain’s hips with Mountain’s fill the room. The occasional whispered praise breaks through too.

“Fuck, I love you,” Mountain breathes. It’s followed by the stuttering of Rain’s hips as he falters and blushes, like he’s just been told it for the first time. Once he regains his rhythm he angles the thrusts right against Mountain’s g-spot, returning his love.

“I love you too, wildflower,” Rain replies. “Always going to love you.”

The water ghoul continues his motions as he moves to place his mouth on Mountain’s neck, sucking sweetly to leave the marks of his love. To add to the rich tapestry of Mountain’s body with a reminder of his affection, albeit a temporary one. “Hnnng- fuck Rain,” he groans, tilting his head back further to give him access.

The new angle allows the strap to be ground against Rain’s twitching t-dick with every little movement he makes for his love. The sensations are immense, furthered by the intimate setting in which his innermost feelings for Mountain are divulged freely. His pace picks up almost imperceptibly as he chases the pleasure, wanting both to savour it and experience it all at once.

His mind is made up for him as Mountain’s breaths begin to become heavier and more frequent. Engulfing the strap, Rain can see Mountain’s cunt clenching around him, leaking pre and looking ever so pretty, his pubic hair covered in a sheen. “Close, Rain. Come with me?” He asks, doe-eyes batting. It sparks Rain to nod as he turns on the small bullet vibrator secured in the harness, keeping his renewed pace as the pleasure becomes too much for both of them. 

They find themselves staring deeply into each other’s eyes as Rain reaches his climax, hips thrusting erratically as he rides out his orgasm. He winces in pleasure only able to repeat Mountain’s name in a soft moan, “Mmph Mountain, my love- fuck- Mountain baby.” 

The sight, along with Rain’s movements sends Mountain over the edge just seconds later. His cunt spasms around the strap, Mountain’s arms grasping for purchase on Rain’s shoulders as the water ghoul brings his hand down once again to toy with Mountain’s clit, only stopping when overstimulation sets in and he begins to writhe.

“Oh Mount that was terrible,” Dewdrop says. “Truly awful, take it somewhere else man, it’s lingering like a bad fart.”

“So you don’t like my jokes now, huh? Seven was supposed to eat nine, not your sense of humour!”

A few of the ghouls are sitting in the common room. Recently back from a tour, they have few responsibilities to keep them busy during the day. Each ghoul has their own way of coping with the whiplash of tour days compared to cosy life back at the Ministry but Mountain has taken up reading a ‘One Hundred and One Jokes to Tickle Your Funny Bone’.

“No, I like them Mount, keep going,” Cirrus smiles. She’s happy the earth ghoul is keeping himself occupied, knowing all too well how easy it can be to spiral in these days before chores start up again.

“Okay okay… hmm what about this,” he says, thumbing through the pages as he bites his lip. “Two windmills are standing on a wind farm. One asks ‘What’s your favourite type of music?’” Mountain pauses for a very unnecessary dramatic effect. “The other says, ‘I’m a big metal fan.’” He slaps his knee and guffaws at the joke, letting out the heartiest of chuckles, rivalling that of a father like Omega. “Get it? Because we’re in a metal band,” he points out, painfully oblivious to the disinterest of his packmates.

Aeon, however, is having a great time. Compared with English, Ghoulish is a very direct language, more akin to those animals use to communicate about food and danger. So being topside and learning English with the pack also means being subjected to Mountain’s jokes and enjoying them. Everyone enjoys the jokes at some point, just most ghouls have heard them all too many times before. That’s the joy of new life- experiencing things for the first time- and Mountain takes pride in being able to give those experiences. The cogs turn in Aeon’s brain as he feels out for the punchline, “Oh, that was a good one!” He exclaims, making a mental note to tell it to Aurora when she gets back.

“I think you’ll like this one, Ae, have you heard the rumour about the butter?”

“No?” He answers cautiously.

“Never mind, I shouldn’t spread it,” Mountain smirks.

Aeon has a toothy grin adorning his face as he points finger guns at Mountain. “Woah, you got me good there Mounty!” He chuckles.

Cirrus looks on in adoration at the bonding between the ghouls before adding her own favourite silly joke into the mix. “Hey, what about this one?” She asks, garnering the boys’ attention. “How did Freud get his hair so soft and shiny?” With the psychoanalyst mentioned, several ears perk up to hear what they think will be the inevitable daddy-related punchline.

“He used classical conditioning!”

A wave of groans filter across the room along with a litany of jovial, light-hearted remarks at her genius joke.

“No, that one takes it, worst. joke. ever.”

“Freud is turning in his grave at that, Cir.”

“That was far worse than Mount’s, get out!”

A look of concern spreads across Rain’s face as the comments roll in, “Guys stop being so mean, it can’t be that serious.” Cirrus disagrees and repeats the joke for the water ghoul who was, at the time of the original telling, absorbed in his book. “Oh no, yeah, that was awful, you gotta leave.”

Cirrus chimes in, “Yeah! Part of telling awful jokes is the hilarious reactions you get. Aether once told me to get on a one-way flight to space and to this day it’s the greatest compliment I’ve ever received,” she says, reminiscing.

She’s the definition of grace, hopping on the spot as she tries, to no avail, to get this goddamn shoe on her foot. Aurora pulls and twists all while nearly toppling over onto every available surface in the den, “Argh! Just. Go. On,” she cries, punctuated by the thud of her still-bare left foot against the floor.

With a hop, skip, and a jump she bounds into the kitchen, met by Swiss and Cumulus idly chatting, perched on the stools beneath the island counter. “Lus! Help me, please!” Aurora pleads, refusing to give up.

Cumulus giggles, the inexperienced ghoulette shuffling like a madman in her pursuit of… she’s not sure. “What are you doing, ‘rora?”

“Hnnf- Saw Aeon could put his shoes on standing up and couldn’t let him win,” she explains. The ghouls at the counter shoot her a confused stare, “You know, the bets?” Aurora is only met with more puzzled looks. “Whoever can master fifty human things first wins?” Swiss and Cumulus look at each other before Swiss pipes up.

“And you decided putting on shoes while standing upright is a trait so human that you’re having a competition over it?” He questions.

“Well, it’s not just that! We’ve also done throwing laundry in the hamper, making small talk, carrying the most amount of drinks without spilling them, loads of stuff!” 

“Don’t forget chugging the drinks too!” A distant voice calls out.

“Hi, Ae,” Cumulus shouts back before turning her attention back to Aurora. “So this is serious stuff, huh?” Aurora nods. “Well, I don’t know about you, Swiss, but I wouldn’t want to interfere with such a strict competition,” she says playfully but with a hint of sarcasm. Swiss nods his head in agreement.

So the multi ghoulette continues in her struggle, bending, stretching, at one point it looks like she’s doing the hokey cokey. “Really?! No help at all?” The others can only smile as they shake their heads. “Ugh, fine, I’m leaving.”

It would be a more poignant bite if she were able to actually direct herself out of the room, instead Aurora is stuck going in circles in an attempt to regain her balance. “Need a hand, sweetheart?” Cumulus jokes. That’s the push Aurora needs to steady herself and return to Aeon, foot still sitting halfway in the shoe.

“I don’t remember us doing anything like that when we were new summons, do you?” Cumulus asks.

“You’re blushing, Lus” Swiss grins.

“What? No?!” She says, flustered. “That’s not what I was talking about anyway. We were nev-”

“You have a crush on the new summon!” He says in a sing-song tone. “Look at you, you’ve gone all red and embarrassed, textbook crush behaviour!”

Cumulus only blushes harder, maybe she does have a thing for Aurora. The younger ghoul is just so playful and energetic; sometimes a bit of a loser but in the most endearing way; she’s sweet as a button but fierce too and- yeah Cumulus is fucked. “Okay, maybe yeah, but what about it? You’re practically welded to Aeon!”

“At least I own it, Lus,” he smiles, nudging her. “You should too.”

Aurora flies back into the kitchen, nearly sliding across the tile straight to the sink. She gathers herself and stands proudly, “Did it!”

“I can see, rorabug, well done!” Cumulus replies, sweetly.

“Uh huh! I’m on thirty eight now,” she grins excitedly. Cumulus has no idea why she’s so charmed by Aurora but she’s not complaining. She gathers some confidence before inviting Aurora over to where she’s sat. The younger ghoul is at the perfect height for Cumulus to place a delicate kiss on her cheek. It’s not much but she’s proud of herself.

“Oh, um, thanks Lus!” She smiles nervously, turning to leave the room.

After a gentle prod in the ribs from Aeon, that means she likes you too, Rory, do it back! She turns her body towards Cumulus and with an assertive stride she gives her a peck on the lips, “Join us?” She asks. Before waiting for an answer she runs away, giggling with Aeon. Those left in the kitchen can hear hushed whispers of celebrations and congratulations at their newfound knowledge of each other’s appreciation.

The air is fresh, summer weaving its way into the days bit by bit; a patch of blue sky here and a ray of sunshine there. Zephyr makes their way to the barn. Over the pebble path, taking great care with where their walking stick lands, they take slow but confident steps towards the wooden structure. It stands tall, a modest size for a domestic farm. All produce is kept locally and used within the confines of the Ministry. The siblings flock to the small requests form located outside of Omega’s room when shearing season comes around; he makes the cosiest jumpers and the fluffiest socks, custom fit to the lucky few whose requests are granted.

While their aim is to arrive at the barn, the journey there is just as fascinating to the air ghoul. They pass by the lavender, only recently beginning to sprout. The bees surround it, ready to fill their pollen baskets and feed their hive. To Zeph, it’s an uncoordinated colony, bustling around each other as every bee fights for themselves. But they know that their communication is deep and has life-sustaining meaning, even if the ghoul can’t distinguish the movements or tones themselves.

As they continue along the path, their eyes are diverted to the small wooded area east of the barn. They count one, two, three, eight squirrels all on their own equally significant journeys. Hopping from branch to branch and scurrying up trees, Zephyr giggles as the animals continue to roam. They’re not sure why they laugh, perhaps it’s more of a humbling chuckle, to know ghouls, humans, and animals are all living in complete harmony- at least within the Ministry’s grounds.

The last few mildly treacherous placements of their walking stick before landing on the hard clay soil signifies to Zeph that they’ve reached the barn. “Good Morning!” They shout, extending the vowels as one would to a child, and the livestock may as well be their children as far as the air ghoul is concerned.

Undoing the rusty latch and opening the creaky door, they sigh warmly as their eyes meet the animals inside. The lambs are sweet as ever, staring up at the air ghoul with soft, glassy eyes, inviting them in to play. They understand Zephyr, and know not to be too rough with them. Whether they arrive via wheelchair or walking aid, the lambs are always happy to see them and will happily nose about curiously at whatever the ghoul has brought with them. Today they’d be in luck; tucked away in the inner pocket of Zephyr’s cross-body bag is a small container of special pellets for the lambs. No tricks hidden within the treats, no dewormers or antibiotics, just homemade pellets full of their favourite flavours.

“Aww, you’re excited today!” They coo, pretending for just a moment that the extra attention is due to their presence rather than the food they can smell. “Yeah I bet,” they continue, holding a one-way conversation with the sheep. “I know it’s been a tough week, but summer’s approaching now and look! I bought treats for you!” They beam, shaking the box gently to catch the waning attention of their audience.

There’s a quaint bench to one side of the barn, a project by Mountain and Dewdrop, who spend much of their time there together. The wood has a natural look to it, the seat’s not particularly level or ‘square’ but very telling of a story, holding the rich history of the Ministry and its extension of kindness towards nature. The tree was naturally felled during a storm and once Mountain got word of the mighty tree’s demise, he knew it would sit, memorialised, in the barn. Now Zephyr rests with the oak to help further the circle of life and nature itself.

“Hey, hey! Form an orderly queue please, there’s more than enough to go around my lovelies,” they joke, chuckling at their own humour despite the tough crowd before him, seemingly more interested in nibbling at their rubber ferrule on the stick. They gently move their foot to act as a barrier to protect their walking aid, “Oi you cheeky git, the food’s up here,” they say lightheartedly.

As they’re sharing the treats between the young lambs, Zeph uses their stick to part the crowd and invite one of the smaller offspring to the front, “You, fine lamb, you could do with a little extra,” they say, smiling, scooping a much larger handful out and offering their palm. It’s met by a rough tongue lapping the food, licking their hand clean and then some. “Thought you’d like that,” they grin, wiping their hand dry on their work trousers. “You gotta fight for what you want, buddy, no one’s going to do it for you,” they pause. “Except me, of course, I’ve got you.” With a wink to the lamb, the gathering begins to disperse as they realise Zephyr has run out of food.

Aurora jostles Rain awake, “Rainy you gotta get up, started my period and it’s got on the sheets.” She sounds an equal part panicked and fed up.

“Hmm, whatcha doing?”

“There’s blood all over the sheets, Rain, we gotta clean up. Can you strip the sheets while I clean myself up?”

He opens his eyes, a thick film of sleep blurring his vision. Blinking, his eyes focus on first the sheets and then his own arms. “Shit, sorry Rory, that’s me. You’re fine, no period, promise.”

Rain’s skin is naturally dry and flaky. As a water ghoul out of water he struggles with keeping moisturised. Combining that with dermatillomania makes for a vicious cycle of dry skin, picking, and sometimes, if his mind and body let him, healing. He glares at his inner elbows, shit, he must have scratched them in his sleep again.

“Really sorry Aurora, thought I could get away with it, but,” he hiccups, struggling to find his words or his breath.

“It’s alright Rainshower, I was going to change the sheets anyway, no matter the reason.” Puppy dog eyes reach her own pupils, please don’t leave, they say. “Or I could help you out first, yeah? How does that sound?” Rain nods silently.

Guiding Rain to the ensuite, Aurora has one hand rubbing soothing circles on his back and another texting for Mountain to bring the water ghoul’s special first aid kit. She sits him down on the closed toilet lid while she wets a cloth in warm water.

“Okay, this is going to hurt like a bitch but you’re gonna be brave about it,” Aurora commands. She doesn’t ever come across as mean or indifferent but it’s her own unique form of encouragement. Rain winces before hissing and thrashing as the ghoul in front of him gently wipes away the dried blood and cleans the wounds.

“Don’t know why I keep doing it,” he laments. Why does he continue to scratch and pick and peel away when he knows it’ll have to be cleaned up and he knows the pain will be unbearable every time?

“Because it’s a compulsion, sweetheart, you can’t help it.” She continues to wipe him, making sure the remnants of the night are minimal. A knock comes at the door accompanied by a hand blindly reaching in with a battered old plastic bag in it.

“Gotcha things Rainy, take care,” the disembodied hand says before placing it on the counter and leaving. The medical kit contains a big tub of moisturiser, plenty of dressings, scissors to cut to size, enough medical tape to repair ancient mummies, and tubular bandages to keep it all in place. In true Rain fashion, it’s all been chucked in the tatty bag haphazardly. The scissors are sticking out through a hole and the bandage has come off its roll, swimming freely among the other items. Aurora just laughs.

“Of course this is your kit,” she chuckles. “Go on then, what do you need?”

“Impregnate the dressing then attach it with the tape, if you could please?”

The look on her face is priceless, eyes wide and brows high, a smile of disbelief, “Um, not sure I have the uhh equipment for that Rainy,” she giggles.

He shoots her back a dead stare but behind it, she knows he appreciates the humour. Squirting a big dollop of ointment onto the dressing she secures it to his arm. She pats it to spread the cream and signals to Rain to get up.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of changing the sheets, mister,” she says.

But upon exiting the bathroom they find a fresh set of sheets adorned with drawings of birds and flora, looking at each other they both shout out, “Thanks Mount!”

They cuddle up into bed, Rain once again spooning Aurora, “Thanks, songbird,” he says, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. “Thought you were gonna freak out about it but you just, took care of me. Was really nice.”

“Of course I took care of you Rainy, I hate seeing you in pain and, besides, it’s only a little blood, I’ve seen Dew produce a more impressive piece of art with a paper cut!”

Rain sighs contentedly, “Lie in?” He proposes.

A sudden shuffle of slippers against the hardwood startles Mountain. He whips his head round, a deer in the headlights of the light emanating from Swiss’ phone.

With a hand up to his face, shielding his eyes, he asks, “What the fuck Swiss?! I could’ve had a knife in my hand, what do you think you’re do-” He’s silenced by a warm embrace from the multi ghoul.

“Tough night, bush baby?”

And just like that Mountain melts into Swiss’ touch. The other just has a way of talking that soothes him, reminds him he’s safe.

“Yeah, just a lot on my mind with my element ‘n stuff.” He admits, “Thought I escaped without disturbing you but clearly not, ‘m sorry.”

Swiss’ heart melts at the change in tone, pressing a chaste kiss to Mount’s hair before tousling it and letting go.

“You didn’t disturb me love, just woke up and wondered where you’d gone, it’s not like you.” It’s not. He’s always down by ten o’clock of an evening and up at five the next morning. With the change of season, a new year springing into life, it’s overwhelming for the earth ghoul. Each and every sprout, bulb, and flower creates a cacophony of noises, at best thunderous and at worst, frightening. “You wanted a snack?”

“Didn’t know where else to go,” he shrugs. “Would normally go to the greenhouse but,” he pauses, “but…”

“Yeah,” Swiss agrees. He doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t have to. Elemental chaos wreaks havoc on the best of ghouls. Just like heat cycles, the pack understands when concessions need to be made. For some, like Mountain and Rain, their elements are tied to the seasons. Cumulus and Cirrus really struggle on tour with the changing climates, it throws them out of kilter for whole legs sometimes, always chasing the relative peace of the Ministry’s atmosphere. Quintessence ghouls struggle awfully whenever new summons are around. The constant questioning and learning filters through their element and it can take years sometimes for it to die down. It’s why the Ministry prefers to transition ghouls sometimes instead of summoning new ones.

Wordlessly, Swiss makes his way to the cupboard, reaching out for various jars and cartons.

“Never had a midnight snack before.” Mountain confesses, turning his head away in shame. It doesn’t surprise the other ghoul but he feigns surprise for him anyway, gasping.

“What has the spring done to my pure, innocent flower? It’s like I don’t even recognise him anymore!” He drags out, dramatically flailing his arms as if he’s about to faint. “I’m only pulling your leg, Mount, I’m just excited for you to taste the Reese’s peanut butter cup sandwich experience.” He says with a smile. Mountain has a look of disdain on his face, secretly enamoured behind his disappointed exterior.

“I don’t even want to know.” He’s holding back a smile now, but determined to keep a straight face at least until he lays his eyes on the abomination Swiss is about to create.

“Oh but you do! You see it’s two slices of bread where you put chocolate spread on one and peanut butter on the other. Now,” he continues, narrating his actions, “you might be thinking, where’s the crunch?! Well, that’s where the cornflakes come in, you just sprinkle those in, put the slices together and bam!” He cheers at an unacceptable volume for two o’clock in the morning, “The sandwich is complete. Eat up baby!” Swiss gleams, holding the experience up to Mountain’s face.

A grimace plasters itself across the earth ghoul’s face, apprehension fuelled by a mild disgust for Swiss’ tastes, he only came down here for a mandarin. Before Swiss either forces it past Mountain’s lips or eats it himself, he decides to take a bite, the crunch reverberating through the kitchen.

Mountain’s eyes go wide before he takes a moment to clear his throat and neutralise his face once more, adamant he won’t let Swiss win. It’s too late, however, and Swiss is practically glowing with excitement, “I told you! It’s good, hmm?”

“If I say yes will you leave me alone with my midnight snack?”

“Not a chance, pretty boy, eat up!”

The unwavering excitement of his boyfriend never fails to rub off on Mountain, and he’s thankful for it every day. He makes quick work of the sandwich, offering the occasional bite to the creator, though he graciously declines, instead opting to lick the rogue spot of peanut butter off the earth ghoul’s nose once he’s done.

“Tastes much better on you.” He grins.

“No you can’t delete the watermelon, it’s in the desk!” Sunny mumbles, her mouth partially blocked by the pillow she’s unceremoniously shoved under her.

Swiss awakes, ready to whack his love with said pillow. “Shine, it’s early, go annoy Mountain please?”

“The shoes can’t go in the wall, they’re too hot!”

A smile creeps onto Swiss’ face. It’s a uniquely vulnerable experience, being on the receiving end of a sleep talker. Sunny has no idea what her unconscious brain is feeding her- or perhaps vaguely catapulting towards her in the hopes that something will stick. Yet Swiss has the honour of being there for the barely-formed, mismatched set of words that leave her mouth. He knows they’ll giggle about it in the morning as they always do; Sunny attempting, to no avail, to connect Swiss’ feedback to her hazy memory of the dreams her brain concocted for her viewing pleasure. It never works; the nonsense she spouts seemingly untethered from reality altogether, plucked from a different plane of existence, perhaps one where footwear temperature is a real concern for its occupants.

Sunny continues to lie fast asleep, the tendrils of sleep latched onto the depths of her mind, keeping her peaceful while her brain whirs, stirring her thoughts but not her vessel. She’s sprawled out on the bed. Head to the side and mouth wide open, in what looks like an effort to chew the pillow. In reality it’s acting as less of a neck support and more of a drool-catcher as spit tumbles its way out and onto the floral design.

Swiss only looks on in admiration, the moonlight creating a shimmer in the puddle as it soaks into the fabric. His smile grows wider, fangs catching on his bottom lip. He likes to think Sunny’s body wouldn’t let her talk in her sleep if she didn’t on some subconscious level feel safe with him. It’s a testament to the bond they’ve created topside, inseparable since the day Sunshine was summoned; partners in crime, wizards of whimsy, goofy guys. All silly ways of saying ‘I love you’, which is exactly what Swiss wants to shout from the rooftops.

“It’s not my fault you flew into the glove,” she snarls.

“Is too! You had the map, sunflower,” Swiss tuts under his breath playfully. He’s careful not to wake her when she’s like this but he can’t help joining in on the shenanigans once in a while. He’s imagining a tunnel, for fighter jets- or perhaps drones would be more suited to his skillset- it’s got one entrance and five exits, each one representing a finger on a glove. In his on-behalf-of-Sunny-dream, he’s in control while Sunny’s frantically trying to unfold a comically large map that supposedly holds the secrets to navigating The Glove. He’s asking her where to go but the map is unfolding ad infinitum and before they know it he’s flying through a finger hole (the middle one of course) lest they crash into the purlicue (The webbing between your thumb and forefinger, Swiss, how do you not know that? He thinks back to Aether and his endless list of things you didn’t know had names).

Jolting out of his trance, Swiss realises he may not have been as awake as he thought during his own dream-like sequence. He leans into his weary state, the dumb smile on his face returning. As he shifts on bed, carefully trying to manoeuvre his mate’s hand, Sunny decides she has other plans. A small hand with not-so-small claws abruptly finds itself on Swiss’ face, nipping him ever so slightly.

“I really love him, Lus, he’s always there for me,” she whispers, and Swiss can’t take it anymore. His internal jar of love is spilling over and his nervous system is screaming at him to let some out. So he does what any normal person does and bites Sunny, in the little nook that’s just the right size for him to gently sink his teeth in. 

“It’s a purlicue!” He mocks in a hushed tone, as best he can with Sunny between his teeth, hoping his wave of quintessence is strong enough to puncture Aether’s sweet dreams with a million images of weird hand parts.