#and why is it Dew

[sentientgolfball]

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

[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!"

[kociamieta]

they are real now. sadly

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

[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 ☹️☝️

[chasing-faith-and-fate]

Moon 23

Moon 22 | Moon 23.1

[whumpy-wyrms]

he’s gonna feel it all

[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

[jash-updates]

Most normal energy drink consumer

[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, in the abbey's infirmary for the first time post turning into a ghoul, being checked out by Omega: "-So, like, the goat was talking in my head, but I may have still been kind of out of it, because I didn't know what it was saying, and, like, goats aren't supposed to talk, yeah? Well, it said something and I just kinda went, 'Okay, ya, sure.' and when I woke up I was in the softest blanket ever and got carried here." Omega, processing this information, realizing Dew met Baphomet in the woods and just smiled and nodded his way into becoming a ghoul: "..." -writing on his clipboard- "...Patient is either incredibly charming, or worryingly naïve, and I have yet to determine which it is." Dew, playing with his new tail: "Oh! I just remembered something!" Omega, intrigued: "Oh??" Dew, gesturing at his clipboard: "Write this down, it's important..." -waiting for Omega to pick up his pen- "I'm lactose intolerant." Omega, pausing: "You're... lactose intolerant?" Dew: "Yup! Dairy just goes right through me." Omega, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes: "How is this relevant to what you just told me-" Dew, laying back down in the pillows: "Cause the goat reminded me that I can have goat cheese, in small amounts. Although too much will also make me shit." Omega: "...You saw Baphomet and your first thoughts afterwards are about cheese?" Dew, nodding: "I mean, it had tiddies, tiddies sometimes make milk, and-" -later that evening- Omega, screaming into his pillow: "HE MET BAPHOMET AND HIS MIND IMMEDIATELY WENT TO CHEESE-!" Mist, patting his back: "..." -thinking- "If you milked-" Omega, crying: "NO!"

[st-danger]

SISTER IMPERATOR APPRECIATION POST

FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT THIS WOMAN IS ABSOLUTELY STUNNING AND I WANT HER TO BE VERY STERN WITH ME AT ALL MOMENTS

SHE IS A REGAL LADY AND DESERVES MORE ATTENTION

(The actresses name is Maralyn Facey, or as I like to call her, my future wife)

[corax-corone]

sure i'll post that

the fixation combination hits hard i swear.

anyway ghoul dragons why not

I plan on more eventually because i'm an unstoppable dragon drawing machine

[chasing-faith-and-fate]

Moon 26

Moon 25 | Moon 27

[divine-misfortune]

Why aren't we force-femming aether. Where's the equality.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Hitchhiker Phantom x Driver Dew anyone ?

Phantom has a new sworn enemy, and it's the sun. Sweating bullets, his filmsy tank top sticking to him in the most uncomfotable way, curls damp and frizzy, he's starting to wish for a storm, an eclipse, or just a cloud, anything to make the weather slightly more bearable.

The fact that he's sitting cross-legged on the side of the road, the burning asphalt radiating heat too, isn't helping. But he's been all but thrown out of his last ride after accidentally spilling his drink - he didn't mean to, the road was just so bumpy ! - and now, stranded in the middle of nowhere, all he can do is wait and pray for another car to drive by and accept to give him a lift into the nearest town.

Phantom has been hitchhiking for long enough that he knows people willing to do so are rarer these days. They are wary, not like Phantom can blame them - he himself had a few bad, or even downright scary experiences.

Lost in his thoughts, he nearly misses the rumbling sound of an engine down the road, but the second it registers, Phantom is on his feet, bag slung back on his shoulder, thumb out. An old pick up is making its way toward him, and it might be his last chance of the day.

Phantom runs a hand through his hair, fluffing it the best he can, sheepish smile plastered on his face. A bit of charm never hurts in those situations.

To Phantom's immense relief, the pick up slows down to a stop right in front of him, and a guy leans toward the open passenger window from the driver seat.

"Where you going, boy ?"

The man is...Phantom has to take a deep breath. Long hair held up in a loose bun, knife sharp jaw, sculpted cheekbones, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of a nose that's evidently been broken more than once, and piercing mismatched eyes, one icy blue, the other light brown.

Hot. Pretty, in a way that clearly reads "I could and might gut you if you look at me the wrong way".

Remembering he was asked a question, Phantom mentally shakes himself, his smile growing just a touch coy.

"As far as you're willing to take me."

The man raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth ticking up slightly. His long, spidery fingers drum against the wheel, drawing Phantom's eyes to the defined veins and tendons in the man's callused hands.

"That's a dangerous answer," the man finally points out, the shadow of a smirk still floating on his mouth. Phantom shrugs, noting the stranger's eyes roaming, assessing, interested, but not particularly lewd. Yet, at least. There's a moment of silence , then the man leans back in his seat.

"Well, come on then."

The come hither gesture that follows has Phantom's stomach flipping. There's something about this man, both nonchalant and observant, or the way he holds himself, with grace and something that toes the line between confidence and arrogance.

Hopping in on the passenger seat, Phantom finds a few CD's stewn about, energy bars wrappers and a discarted jacket. Once settled, car door slamming behind him, Phantom glances at the driver, who steers them back on the road.

"Next town is a few hours away still," the stranger says without looking at him, "I'll stop there, so I guess that's where I'll take you."

There's a sharp, biting touch of irony in his tone that makes Phantom's cheeks heat, in a good way. But the man is not looking at him, even though Phantom is, with enough insistance that he noticed the faint scar on his jaw, the edge of a tattoo peeking out of his short sleeve, or the smudges of oil on the man's trousers, and the lack of returned attention simply won't do.

"Sounds good to me," Phantom pipes up. "You got any water ? My bottle's been empty for hours."

"Behind your seat," is all he gets, at least until Phantom retrives the bottle. Just as he opens it, it's snatched from his hands.

Phantom watches, mouth even drier than before, as the man takes a long swing of it, head thrown back, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his skin as his throat works, proeminent adam apple bobbing up and down.

All the while, the stranger's eyes are on him.

Then he offers Phantom the bottle, holding it up between them with a smirk and quirk of eyebrows that look like a challenge.

Trying not to overthink it - he's going to put his mouth where the man's pretty lips were though, isn't he ? - Phantom takes it, letting their fingers overlap for a brief moment, then chugs a good deal of it down- he really was thirsty.

"You got a name to go with that pretty face ?"

Phantom chokes and splutters at that, so hard the stranger has to slap him in the back. Great. Now there's water on his jeans and Phantom feels fucking ridiculous - at least until he hears the driver's soft chuckle, amused but not unkind. Wiping his mouth, he sighs.

"Phantom."

Instead of a comment about weird nicknames, he gets an extended hand.

"Dewdrop, Dew for short."

Oh. Interesting.

Phantom slips his hand in Dewdrop's steady one, delighted to feel the rough texture of the man's palm scratching his own. There's an upside down cross Phantom hadn't noticed tattooed on his middle finger, and a small heart on his pinky.

Dewdrop holds on for a just a bit too long, or maybe that's Phantom. Their eyes meet.

A rough bump in the road breaks the moment, and they're back to their initial position, Phantom stealing glances from the passenger seat, Dewdrop focused on the road.

The sun is setting, bright and blinding, bathing everything in golden light. After a bit of fiddling and a vigorous punch on it that he insisted was necessary, Dew managed to make the old radio work, some trendy pop song coming through amongst a lot of static.

Everything is hot and sticky, but the wind ruffling Phantom's curls is finally cooling, a welcome reprieve from the suffocating heat.

They don't talk much, but now and then one of them will break the silence, and the other will immediately focus on him. It's a game of patience and burning stares that Phantom finds himself thoroughly enjoying.

He's not sure he's winning, however. Because so much time to look means he noticed even more details that are driving him crazy.

Like the way Dew's shirt is thin enough to hint at what cannot be anything other than nipple piercings. Or the faint dusting of light stubble on his jaw, the tan line where his sleeves stop, the way he keeps hooking his thumb in his beltloop, his tongue darting out to wet chapped lips.

Dew is more subtle about the staring, but not enough for Phantom to believe him uninterested. The highlight of their long drive is probably the time Dew has to precipitately hit the brakes to avoid running a deer over ; his hand instinctively slams into Phantom's chest, like he doesn't trust the seatbelt to do its job, and once he stops cursing out the poor, startled animal scampering away, Dew let his hand linger.

"You good there ?"

Phantom's breath catches in his throat, whole body and mind zeroing in on the sensation of Dew's thumb running back and forth over his sternum.

"...yeah. Yeah, all good."

The slight smirk on Dew's face says he noticed Phantom's breathlessness, but he's kind enough not to mention it.

It's pitch black when they reach town. Dew parks in front of a small house, but instead of getting out of the pick up, he leans toward Phantom, so close their noses are almost brushing.

"You got somewhere to go ?"

His eyes are just as piercing in the dark as they were earlier in the day, his mouth so close-

"Phantom."

Dew grabs him by the jaw, firm, and gives Phantom a small shake.

"Do you have somewhere to go ?"

Dew's touch feels like sparks under his skin, Phantom cannot help leaning into it, eyes glued to those tentalizing lips.

"I'll figure something out, 's fine."

"You can crash at my place."

Phantom looks up, eyebrows raised.

"Generous."

The grin that splits Dew's face then, mischievious and hungry, makes Phantom want to roll over and let him carve his heart out.

"Hardly. I'm full of ulterior motives."

Phantom clicks the seatbelt off, leaning further toward Dew - who, the little shit he is, leans away while still tugging him by the jaw, until Phantom is streched above the center console, one hand next to Dew's thigh, the other on the window by his head.

"What kind of ulterior motives ?"

"Exactly the kind you hope."

And with that, Phantom is all but dragged out of the car by the scruff of his neck, Dew bullying him inside the house with all the urgency of a man who stewed in sexual tension for hours.

Phantom has a feeling he'll remember this night for a long time.