#and why is it Dew

[sentientgolfball]

Which ghoul is eating cookie dough even if it’s not the edible kind

[nathaniacolver]

amanda overton is the wlw writers' GOAT nobody talk to me

(link for the article)

she said let's give LESBIANS everything the straights have already had time and time again

i knew the romeo & juliet teas were real

she had all the right inspirations. tomb raider, mass effect, tlou. gosh i love her.

THIS IS WHY CHRISTIAN AND ALEX ARE ALSO THE GOATSSSSSSSS wow i need more feminist men in my life bro.

yuri cocaine YURI COCAINEEEEEEEEE

YURI COCAINEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

amanda overton, every single oldest sister lesbian in the entire WORLD owes you their very lives.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Dew, in the confessional: "Okay, so this one's kind of a doozy... I'm not a ghoul." -pauses for a moment, then continues- "Like, I kind of just went along with it, because everyone thought I was, and I've been bluffing my way through everything and somehow haven't been caught yet, but it's starting to get really awkward in the den, because everyone's like, 'Come on, show us your tail!' or 'We wanna see your horns!' and, like, I don't have any of those, what do I fucking do??" Copia, processing this: "...Then how have you been doing fire magic??" Dew, crying: "Bitch, I don't know, that's why I'm asking you!" Copia, crying, too: "That's scary!" Dew: "I KNOW!"

[inchidentalmeowmeow]

This diva about to burn the whole track down

A menace since birth i fear

[kociamieta]

they are real now. sadly

thank you @zarithial for their names !!!! in awe of your rain world naming powers

[mndvx]

chopchopblahblah That confidence feeling after a good cut!

[mage-ical-character-person]

Why does he tell the player this. AND NOT HIS BIZZZYBOYS?? His boys are so scared…

Spoilers. And rambling

Shouldn’t it be the other way around if he wants us to “leave it to the professionals”? Wouldn’t it be better if he let us be afraid and not his boys?

Why does he tell the Godpoke at all? Isn’t sowing seeds of doubt and distrust the whole point of what he’s doing? He wants the player to stay out of his way and telling them stuff like this seems counterproductive. He could’ve not told us that without looking suspicious, he’s definitely got the plausible deniability on this one. No one’s seen Cobigail in years. Even she doesn’t remember for certain if she eats people or not.

SHE DOESN’T REMEMBER! Gosh, just… her genuine self-doubt over this. She’s pretty sure she doesn’t eat people… but what if they’re right, what if she is a monster? This bit breaks my heart, poor Cobi

I wonder if having her question herself that way was part of the plan.

ANYWAY! Inspekta could’ve easily told the player he doesn’t know if the blood sacrifice stuff is true or not, but considering the other letters it’s probably part of “King’s” plan, and that he and his boys are looking into it and the Godpoke should stay out of it until they know things are safe.

Again. Cobigail is not doing herself any favors. And again, Inspekta has the plausible deniability, and isn’t creating distrust towards the other gods the whole point of his plan?

She is NOT helping her case.

MA’AM!! I love you so much but you are making yourself look very guilty as far as the whole blood sacrifice thing goes. I AM TRYING TO CLEAR YOUR NAME RIGHT NOW MA’AM AND. YOU’RE REALLY NOT HELPING

Like

She even says it’s an understandable mistake to make. (After all the trouble that lie caused her… Cobi, how are you so sweet and understanding?) Inspekta could’ve played dumb. I guess his pride wouldn’t allow that, and he just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make King look bad.

Or maybe a part of him recognized that he went a little too far with that one. Cobigail isn’t really a threat to him the way he perceives the other gods to be. And accusing her of blood sacrifice when she’s already been isolated for 20 years is disproportionately harsh compared to like… forging a breakup letter and sabotaging a roundabout love confession. (If you could even call it that. Those two probably would've went at least another century without admitting their feelings without Inspekta's meddling prompting the Godpoke to slap Clicky in the face with it)

Anyway now I’m imagining Hector apologizing to her after the events of the game and her responding with a similar “I can see how you would get that confused” and uh Hector saying like, “No, Cobbie, I new yew we-aren’t a blood drink-her. I lied ‘bout yew”

and Cobigail just going like: Oh…. Oh! That was a good one, then! You even had me going for a bit there! and then she does her scary face at him and tells him to never do that again or she’ll barbecue him. And then she says she’s just messing around but seriously dial it back next time.

And I dunno something like how she responds to you throwing her own jumpscare prank back at her.

Wanna draw that now. But alas I have other projects on my plate at the moment

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

Sneak peek of Chapter Two of my Kidnapped Style fic.

It’s getting a little harder to concentrate on what his kidnapper is saying now. It's like his brain is slowing down, and his lungs aren't fully expanding anymore. He feels like he's not quite human anymore….He's just...floating away….

Maybe it's because of the pain or the blood loss, but either way, Style knows that what is happening isn't a good sign. He's either going into shock or….

He's dying….

And fuck.

All he can think about���all he wants at this moment…

Is Fadel.

He just wants Fadel. 

He wants to see him so badly.

One last time. 

He wants to hug him tightly and breathe in the scent of his aftershave. He wants to kiss the tiny smile from his mouth that he makes when Style does something he finds endearing. 

He wants Fadel to hold him. Run his fingers through his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay. He wants to hear him say his name in that exasperated way he does when he's being a brat. 

He wants to tell Fadel he's sorry. 

He's so fucking sorry. For playing him and for...for leaving him alone now.

Tears come unbidden from his swollen eyes, stinging the bruised flesh as they mix with his dried blood. 

God. He wants to tell Fadel he loves him. 

Because he does. 

He loves him so fucking much.

He wishes...

He wishes he could just....see....

But everything is getting darker….

“I'm sorry, Fadel,” he murmurs to the room, wanting to say the words outloud at least once, before his body goes slack in his restraints, “I love you.” 

That cruel hand yanks his head back, but he can't bring himself to react. “Hey, don't you even think about-” 

He doesn't get to finish his sentence because he's interrupted by the sound of the door breaking, shattering open like a bomb blasted through it.

Style tries to open his eyes enough to see what is happening, but all he can make out before he's consumed by darkness is a dark blur sprinting toward him and a familiar voice yelling his name. 

[chasing-faith-and-fate]

Moon 36

Moon 35 | Moon 36 bonus

[tteokdoroki]

‘Gojo is racist’ ‘gojo is a bad person’ ‘gojo is this’ ‘gojo is that’ did we ever consider that none of what gege has written recently goes past surface level ? he is not a good writer. he has said multiple times he doesn’t care about jjk anymore. there are hardly any deeper meanings to character deaths/actions. he’s just trying to fill the space until the manga can end at an acceptable length ☹️☝️

[honeydudedraws]

sometimes I forget to post one of these and must make more to post with it thus continuing the cycle, my work is never finished 😔

(36/?)

[whumpy-wyrms]

he’s gonna feel it all

[wrathofrats]

Thinking about dew and ivy scissoring …. Thinking about dew being so sweet to him as he maneuvers the little earth ghoul between his legs…. Thinking about how their pussies kiss and mold together, Ivy rocking back and forth into dews cunt ….. thinking about Ivy trying so hard to grind his clit onto dews …. Thinking about the line of arousal that connects them when they move to adjust ….. thinking about the slick sounds their cunts make when grinding against each other …..

[thelampisaflashlight]

Dew, wearing a floral shirt: "Okay, ladies, what do we think? Is this too much?" Cumulus, looking at the pattern: "It's very... Georgia O'Keeffe." Cirrus, tilting her head: "It reminds me of... her." Aurora, without subtlety: "It reads pussy, literal." Dew, looking at his shirt: "You're not wrong, but I need to know if it's too pussy, or just enough pussy." Cumulus: "Who did you say you're going out on a date with tonight?" Dew: "Mountain." All Three: "He won't notice." Dew, clicking his tongue, going back into the bathroom: "Mist, I need a cuntier shirt, I need that man hot and distracted-"

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Just Dew walking around at night, thinking.

Dew is much fonder of the Ministry's grounds than people assume. Especially at night, when everything is washed in silver light, the calm and quiet delectable after a day of the usual bustle.

Not that Dew doesn't bask in the soothing routine of daytime either ; there is something so comforting, so domestic about the familiar sound of cheery conversations and hurried footsteps, the rustling of fabric following giggling Siblings, the sight of golden light splashing grand corridors, illuminating stained glass windows, projecting colorful shapes on passing faces, the distant sound of music being played somewhere bouncing off the walls, muted singing rythming the hours.

Yes, Dew loves the Ministry during the day, but night holds a special place in his heart. The time of darkness, only disturbed by the occasional midnight mass, is one in which the fire ghoul finds unmeasurable solace.

He slips out more often than not at this hour where the moon is queen of the sky, finally able to borrow the sun's shine for a few hours. It's peaceful, grounding in a way Dew needs more than he originally thought.

The gardens welcome him like old friends, branches extended like beconing arms. Dew brushes careful fingers along the velvety petals of well-cared for flowers he couldn't name, but admires all the same. Their scent is heavy in the dark, as if to make up for the way moolight tampers the vibrance of their colors. Dew pauses in front of a fountain, the water dripping from a woman's tipped glass weaving a soft melody for no one but the nocturnal creatures.

Dew supposes he is one of those.

Sometimes, in summer, whichever earth ghoul takes care of the garden under the blistering sun will stop there, sit on the stone ledge and splash water on their face, the back of their neck. The memory of droplets clinging to Mountain's lashes as he does so flashes in Dew's mind. The fire ghoul dips a few fingers under the shivering surface, unbothered by the cold.

He moves on, passes under an arch to access the vegetal maze. A wonderful place in itself, high hedges almost masking the sky, wild flowers allowed to curl within it, bright splotches of color amongst the fairly uniform green. One could easily get lost in here, the intricate paths as confusing as can be, but Dew has trudged through it far too many times not to know where to go. Bats fly past him, and Dew makes a note to take Swiss with him next time. Not only would he love it, the mystery and dark corners to explore appealing to him, but the multi ghoul might also be able to snatch a great picture of the flying creatures, and that would be a nice little gift for Phantom's ever growing bat-related stuff collection.

Cumulus walked Dew through the maze in between the two legs of their first tour together. She had linked their arms together, talked and talked and talked while they tried to find their way. It had been a lovely evening, all giggles and shared stories. Dew holds the memory close to his heart as he reaches the well in the middle of the maze.

Sheltered from the wind that starts to wistle high above, Dew dugs a coin out of his pocket. His wish is always the same. Saftey. For his pack, more than for himself. The coin makes a soft splashing sound when it reaches the bottom of the well.

Finding his way out is easy. Dew emerges from the hedges' benevolent protection, hair going wild now that it's fully exposed to the night breeze's playful fingers.

Primo's rose garden is just as beautiful as it was when the man was alive. Various kind of rose bushes clearly tended to with the uttermost care, a legacy more subtle than songs played time and time again. Even as he takes time to admire the sight, Dew is here for a purpose. He's looking for-

There they are. Standing tall in their ceremonial robes, imposing and regal but not too frightening. Primo's eyes are crinckled in the corners, repressed smile softening the lines of his face, Secondo, for all his severe expression, has his hand welcomingly outstretched, and Terzo, lips faintly curved up in a barely-hidden grin.

Hidden warmth, forever captured in stone.

As always, there are offering layed at their feet. Dew straightens a potted plant that tipped over. Siblings and ghouls alike came to pay their respect, as they so often do. Dew himself brought what he always brings : candles, ones he carefully crafted, mixing scents and colors he knows the Papas would have liked. One for each, protected in glass jars to make sure they'll burn as long as possible. Dew kneels at each of the former Papa's feet, lighting the candles while muttering quiet prayers for their peacful rest, mixed with thanks and apologies.

His heart squeezes painfuly when he notices that someone weaved a guitar string around Terzo's ring finger. Dew decides he'll go check on Omega soon, for it has been too long since he last did.

The lake is the fire ghoul's next stop. Chain or Mist might be there despite the late hour, but they won't surface even if they are, seeking the same solitude as Dew. The waters are calm, dark and decievingly invitating. Dew knows they are frigid at this time of the night, something that wouldn't have bothered him in his water days. Midnight swims were a common occurence then, racing Mist and cackling loudly. Standing on the dock, Dew let the vague melancholy clutch his heart. It's more of a gentle hold than an iron grip now, a part of him he will remember fondly as he moves on.

A shiny rock catches his eye, so Dew picks it up for Rain, who will know how to appreciate it.

His feet take him to the chappel afterward. There are dents in the outside walls, many occurences of ghouls climbing it to access the rooftop leaving marks. It has a very nice view, Dew recalls, which Aurora had been delighted to be shown. Both the sky and grounds visible in their full glory. Dew crosses the constantly open threshold, looking up at the high ceilings, the chandelier Sunshine once swung from with manical laughter, to poor Copia's horror. Dew huffs upon recalling that, the sound too loud in the empty space.

The rosay tucked under his shirt presses against his skin, gentle reminder. The rosary Ifrit carved at his bedside, waiting in anguish to see if Dew would pull through, if he would survive the elemental transition against all odds.

Hands skimming along the pews, Dew walks through rows of vacant seats, humming a song under his breath, delighted by the way it gently bounces off the walls.

The walk back toward the ghouls' wing makes Dew pass the old tree under which lovers so often whisper promises, tying ribbons to the low branches. They sway with the wind with all the grace of materialized hope and dreams. Dew spots the windchime Cirrus found half burried in the woods, restored and hanged here. Its sounds follows Dew until he reaches the back door Aether and him slipped through so many times, high out of their minds, giggling and trying to be quiet - to no avail, as a disgruntled Alpha would inform them the morning after.

Dew isn't really surprised, when he finally crawl back to bed, to find Rain and Swiss curled there already. They barely stirr as the fire ghoul wedges himself in between them, simply arranging their limbs to accomodate his presence.

Sleep comes easy to Dew.

[cosmicseafoam]

dewdrop being annoyed that new summon Aeon keeps trailing behind him at all times

Aeon enamoured with dewdrop, so curious, wants to be so close to his face at all times, wants to study him

dewdrop "accidentally" burning Aeon on the face with his cigarette and this poor sweet fresh summon immediately discovering a new kink