#can you tell they're my favorite ghouls

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Give me Swiss and Ifrit's friendship. Give me Ifrit kicking the common room's door open, carrying Swiss bridal style, just because. Give me them teaming up to tease Dew until he's a blushing, stuttering mess. Give me Swiss trying to rizz Ifrit the first time they meet, only for the fire ghoul to pull a uno reverse card on him and fluster him right back. Give me endless flirty exchanges and whole conversations held in eyebrow raises and smirks. Give me a matching pair of goofy grins and boisterous laughters. Give me Ifrit and Swiss' frienship.

[v4guelyv4mpiric]

ITS HALLOWEEN

the time of the year we are able to buy fangs in retail. and i've tried literally every brand of fangs that spirit halloween carries (and more), so this is my review and recommendations.

Scarecrow Fangs

unpopular opinion, but i did not like these. They're way too expensive, imo and the molding solution sucks and is a nightmare to work with. the fangs themselves are alright.

price: 19.99 us

rating: 5/10

Spirit Halloween

It's surprisingly good! i used these until i broke them - they use thermoplastic for molding, which i think should be the standard for fangs. It's far easier to work with. the plastic is cheaper than Scarecrow, but they feel solid and are a more realistic color (at least for me)

price: 4.99 us

rating: 8/10

Monster High

Oh my ghoul, i love these. These fangs are a bit on the smaller size, which is useful if you're going for subtle. and of course, being monster high, i'm all for them. i mean, that case is adorable

again, these use thermoplastic. Though its imortant to note not to put the fangs themselves in hot water while you're molding them- i warped one by accident. regardless, they are so comfortable and resilient. my second favorites.

price: 9.99 us

rating 9/10

Special FX

we've all seen that video of that girl using these in like 2008 and wanted to be her. at least i did... but im sad to report that these fangs dont work on my anatomy. they mold to your back molars with thermoplastic, and when you press on the bar, the fangs come down. these fit simular to a retainer as they just sit above your teeth.

i, however, am missing one of those molars and cannot line it up right to use them. (never beating the kentuckian stereotype)

price: 9.99

rating: 3/10

Now for the ones not sold at Spirit Halloween

Amazon cosplay fangs

You've most likely seen these before. they're nothing special, but they get the job done. i do like the case they come in! very convenient. But the color is far too unrealistic for me. still, they do use thermoplastic! which is always a win. and theres four sizes, again convenient.

price: 7.99 us (give or take)

rating: 4/10

Dracula Fangs

I had never heard of this brand before someone posted about these on tiktok. i bought them immediately (i am not immune to propaganda, and neither are you), and i gotta say... They're my favorite I've tried.

I got the large ones; and let me tell you, they're massive. definitely not for subtle vamp vibes. They're sharp, too! That's a plus for me, not for everyone, i assume. and they mold with thermoplastic! they come with way more than you need (which you can use to make more fangs if you desire)

they do come in smaller sizes as far as I've seen, but i haven't tried those yet.

price: 20.00 us (i know that's rather pricey)

rating 10/10

honorable(ish) mentions

...

vampire condoms. only get them as a bit. a /j fang if you will.

price: 0.99 (i got mine at dave&busters for 25 tokens)

rating: i am wampire/10

Walmart Fangs

i swore there were some in different packaging, but i can't find those now. these suck (not in the fun way). They're made of rubber, and i dont remember them having any molding agents. just skip these, okay?

price: 2.89 us

rating: 0/10

[miasmaghoul]

whos the best ghoul cook? do you think they have any weird eating quirks (like water ghouls eating raw fish, mountain chewin on his terra cotta plant pots, fire ghouls needing to eat more bc of higher body temp, anything like that)?

Did I ever tell you guys that I earned a scholarship to culinary school? I couldn't go, but cooking and baking remain passions of mine that I do NOT get to talk about enough.

But now you've given me an excuse >:)

So here, a BUNCH of my cooking (and favorite food) headcanons for the ghouls and Papas alike!

(There's some murder ghoul content here, mostly in Alpha's section - couldn't help myself 😌)

Aeon isn't one for cooking. Loves eating food, certainly, but not making it. He's more of a snacker, partly because it's more convenient but mostly because he doesn't have the attention span to do much more than microwave instant noodles. He's not picky though, will eat whatever is put in front of him as long as someone else has prepared it. Also doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, more of a salty/savory guy. Favorite foods include hot cheetos, thick cut beef jerky (good to gnaw), and whatever appears on his plate at meal times.

Aether is a ghoul of simple tastes. He'll cook when he has the time, but it's going to be one of his four go-to recipes every time. Always some format of protein + starch + veg, with a complementary sauce. He meal preps every weekend after his retirement so he can have easy meals to microwave and eat in the infirmary. Isn't the biggest fan of cooking with company, unless they're willing to stay out of the kitchen and not interrupt his routine. Has a weak spot for bananas. Favorite meal is one-pan roasted chicken, potatoes and asparagus with rosemary and garlic from Mountain’s garden.

Alpha does not cook, wouldn't dream of it. He doesn't even deign to eat human food most of the time, turns his nose up at it when offered. He likes his meat raw, and wants to hunt it himself so he can feel the blood run down his chin. Any prey is fair game - if he finds you in the woods, you'd better hope you can outrun him. (You cannot.) Favorite foods include the flesh and organs of anything with a pulse.

Aurora likes the idea of cooking, but in practice...well, she tries. She's impatient, is the problem - what do you mean simmer for 20 minutes? She's hungry now! She inevitably rushes everything she makes, no matter how much input she gets from the others, and has yet to learn her lesson. She also has a MASSIVE sweet tooth, they can't keep enough sugary snacks in the pantry as far as she's concerned. Favorite foods include spaghetti with butter and cheese (one of the only things she can always get right), boxed brownies and any kind of fruity candy she can get her paws on.

Cirrus can cook pretty well, if she says so herself, but it's rare that she does it for anyone but herself. She has very particular tastes, and doesn't want to have to adapt them for others. She loves organ meat and bitter vegetables, enjoys the intensity of those flavors while the smell alone keeps most of the others away. Oh well, more for her! She'll eat anything thats made for her though, especially if its served on a silver platter by someone on their knees. Favorite foods (aside from the aforementioned organs) mostly include healthy things like fresh fruit and veggies, steamed shellfish and lean meat.

Cumulus is more of a baker than a cook, but enjoys any time spent in the kitchen either way. She's the type to make a day of it, in her comfiest clothes with music playing while she dances in front of the stove. Her food is never the prettiest, but it's made with love and tastes so much better for it. Her favorite things to bake are cookies and pies, but she doesn't eat many sweets herself. Prefers seeing the others enjoy them. Favorite foods include homemade bread (she has a sourdough starter named Breadly) with lots of butter and flaky salt, anything citrus-forward and wants her proteins heavily spiced (not spicy, she has a low tolerance, but loves the fragrant flavors of herbs and spices).

Dewdrop doesn't advertise it, but he's one of the best ghouls to have in the kitchen. His precision and attention to detail are second to none, and while it doesn't make him particularly fun to share a kitchen with it does make him an outstanding cook. He likes very intricate, involved recipes because he can use them to showcase his skills (and earn a whole bunch of praise at the dining table as a bonus). Loves spicy food, which everyone assumes is due to him now being a fire ghoul, but he's actually always enjoyed a good burn. Favorite foods include any meat served on the bone, fermented foods (kimchi and sour pickles especially) and anything smoked.

Ifrit does not know how the stove works. He survives on protein bars and any leftovers he can pilfer from the abbey kitchens. Food is not a thing he's super interested in, just takes what he needs to fuel himself, and would rather follow in Alpha's footsteps anyway. He likes to hang out at the lake every now and then with Mist, though - she'll pop up from the water every now and then with a nice plump trout to toss his way, which he will roast with his bare hands. Doesn't really have a favorite food, but does like crunchy things.

Mist, if she isn't sharing her spoils with Ifrit, will keep her catch for herself. She's small enough that one good-sized lake fish will tide her over for the day. She does prefer them raw and whole, always a bit on the feral side, but she can be convinced to join the others for sushi if the offer arises. Favorite foods include anything alive and not poisonous in the lake, and cookie dough ice cream (don't tell anyone).

Mountain is overall considered to be the best cook amongst the ghouls, and definitely has the goofy apron to prove it. Naturally skilled and adaptable, he enjoys preparing meals for his pack and will do so with anyone that wishes to lend a hand. Usually it's Cumulus or Sunshine, but they all keep him company at one point or another. He grows much of the produce used in their kitchen himself, all of it fresh and delicious, but Mountain does not eat a bite of it. He's a total carnivore - the closest he gets to eating his homegrown goodies is including them in a stew but avoiding them in his own bowl. Favorite foods include rabbit, venison and this one Vietnamese style grilled beef and rice noodle dish that Dew makes.

Omega learned to cook by osmosis, if you ask him. Time spent under three Papas will do thay to a ghoul. He doesn't cook much, but he's excellent at crafting simple, filling pasta dishes that are good for the soul (so to speak). Also treats it as an excuse to drink plenty of the good wine stashed away in the abbey's cellars - blame Terzo for that habit. Favorite meal is fresh pappardelle served with roasted tomatoes, basil and spicy sausage.

Rain doesn't cook if it involves more than the microwave, not because he can't but because he prefers to be waited on. Breakfast in bed, charcuterie plates in the afternoon, specially prepared dinners to make sure he's kept happy - none of it is necessary, but Rain can't help how much he loves being served. Good thing no one minds giving him the royal treatment. He will also indulge in the odd raw fish during a swim, but only does it beneath the surface, away from prying eyes. Favorite good is soup, any kind, but he prefers brothy ones over thick or creamy styles. If he had to pick a single favorite varitey, it would be miso.

Swiss is only allowed in the kitchen because he's good with a knife. He can burn through prep work like nobody's business, but that's where his skill set ends. He's caused one too many greasefires to he trusted at the stove, and every time he's put something in the oven he's forgotten about it until smoke filled the room and the ghoulettes had to magickally air it out. But he can chop like a food processor, so he gets the knife pass. He's another one that'll eat anything put in front of him, with one exception: eggs. Can't stand them. Favorite foods include red meat served rare, really dark, bitter chocolate and anything with hideous amounts of garlic.

Sunshine is chaos personified in the kitchen. She loves to experiment with flavors and techniques, but has yet to have anything close to a success. Pasta with pesto and pineapple (alliteration is fun), chocolate covered avocado balls (with bacon, because why not), a tuna sandwich made with coconut yogurt instead of mayo (it's healthy!) - these are but a few of the food crimes that have lost her solo access to the kitchens. This girl could burn cereal, and no one wants to see that. She does love to eat though, and will frequently hang out when someone else is cooking so she can sneak bites whatever they're making. Favorite foods include cheese (all kinds), sour candy and all the orchard fresh peaches she can get her hands on.

And for the Papas:

Primo had to learn his way around the kitchen from an early age, thanks to the responsibility of raising his younger brothers falling onto his shoulders. He learned by watching the kitchen staff - a pair of elderly Sisters with so much skill in their gnarled hands that Primo couldn't look away. He never got very good at it, mostly sticking to a handful of reliable dishes that could be made cheap and easily for the three of them. His favorite of the bunch was also the one thing he was best at making - a simple mushroom risotto.

Secondo took to the kitchen like it was second nature, once Primo could trust him to not chop a finger off. Would spend hours poring over cookbooks and learning by doing, eating his own failures so his brothers wouldn't have to. He really enjoyed making simple but hearty comfort foods, lots of rib-sticking braises and stews filled with herbs and veggies from Primo's modest garden. He even cooked the last meal they ever shared together, on that fateful Uno night. It was his favorite, a lasagna constructed from fresh sheets of pasta, homemade ricotta, spinach and a simple tomato sauce, served with roasted garlic focaccia.

Terzo did not get the cooking gene, aside from being able to boil water for his tea. It wasn't a big deal since his brothers picked up the slack, and he decided there were other things that took priority - like music, history and how to retain a full head of hair after age 30. He preferred drinking over eating anyway, mostly saw food as something to put in his stomach to cushion the wine. He was a man of simple tastes, and his favorite thing was a humble sandwich of mortadella, provolone and spicy pickled peppers.

Copia never had to learn to cook, raised by the Clergy and doted on thanks to a not-so-subtle suggestion from Sister Imperator. More than a little spoiled in that sense, he would also go on to be the most worldly Papa in terms of his tastes. So much time spent traveling the world helped to expand his palate, and he got into the habit of sending pictures and descriptions of his favorites back to the abbey so the kitchen staff could figure out how to replicate them. It's impossible for him to pick a favorite, but thanks to so much time spent in LA he does have a real soft spot for Mexican food. Tacos al pastor in particular, but without the cilantro (he has the soap gene).

[skele-bunny]

idk if u ever like. expanded on it but how would phantom Be if like. In that last lil phantom/aether fic, if aether rlly breeding him deep Took?? I feel like he'd either be super flighty abt it OR bask in the princess treatment to come.

YYOOOP IM NGL.... NEVER THOUGHT OF PHANTOM/AETHER KITS UNTIL NOW SHOUT OUT TO YOU!!

Ohh Phantom would be absolutely losing his shit. He's nervous, unsure what to do, just crying in Special's arms. He found out when doing blood work and YYEEAAHH, not the best way to find out you're knocked up. They're calmed down and given a little pamphlet (fucking Phil and his damn pamphlets.) about his options, but Phantom is heavily urged to talk to Aether, so he does!

Just chewing on his nail, curled up as they have Aether in his room, explaining what he found out. Aether's eyes just blow up, and his tail starts wagging, the biggest smile growing.

"Really?!"

And Phantom just nods, and Aether can smell their uncertainty. He composes himself and brings his bat in his arms, calmly explaining exactly what Phil did. He has options, and no matter what he does, Aether will be there to love and support him. He's explained a bit more about what each option will lead to wether termination, keeping, or fostering. They talk for a HOT minute before Phantom finally decides.

"I think I want to keep it... What if I change my mind? What if—"

"Tommy, if you want to keep it, then I'll be there. If you change your mind, I'll be there. I will love you no matter what."

A little breathy cry. "Okay.... Okay, I want to keep it..."

"Then we have appointments to make now, don't we?"

Now both of their tails are wagging.

Phantom is still very nervous, super jumpy about everything, but with Aether and the others help they're able to start calming down and take things a bit easier. The pack is over the MOON, just the biggest ghoul pile (gently) when Phantom tells them. They wait a bit after 9 weeks to start looking at baby registries, things they'll need and want, and Aether just can't stop laying his head on Phantom's tummy and purring, whispering to their little kit about how excited he is to meet them.

Oh boy, tour though? Leading up, Phantom is a mess and just trying to convince Aether to swap spots with someone so he can come on tour too, trying to see if even Delta will come back so he and Aether can stay, he doesn't want to leave. He's a non-stop crying mess, Aether holding him so so much. But!! They make a plan. Mountain and Dew are people both of them trust no matter what, and they've made a promise to Aether to watch their darling bat like a hawk! The others are informed and doing their own part, just carefully treading and making sure Phantom stays comfortable.

Irritated when his uniform starts having him loosen up the lace, and feels like he's not a good performer since he can't do all his splits/jumps/bends like he used to, but he's reassured nonstop about it.

14 weeks, he's calmer now. Absolutely cuddled up in his nest on the bus, quietly chirping if he needs help with something. He's gotten much better at asking for help now! Back at the abbey? They're running to Aether faster than ever before, of course Aeth would usually bop them for it, but he can't lie—he missed Phantom, too.

So many cuddles and scenting over one another, Aether checking their little "tater tot." Nickname courtesy of Swiss as he watched Phantom down two whole bags of tater tots on his own, with one of the bags being frozen.

Quint ghouls eat rancid mixtures of food already but a pregnant quint? DEAR GOD. Pickles and mayonnaise, sour cream and onion chips with hot sauce and mustard, orange juice and Oreos, even to the point of whipped cream on LASAGNA.... LASAGNA!!!! Mountain will never forgive the horrors his cooking experienced. /Silly

One of his favorite things is the backrubs, as unfortunately he's a LOT more prone to aches from his height and anatomy being small. Aether using his magick to ease the pain but also his hands. Has a specific pregnancy pillow so Phantom can lay on his tummy without squishing, moaning from relief as Aether gets every kink and sore out.

When he starts lactating? He wakes everyone up in the den with his cries wjejkdkd even though they've accepted he's carrying, it's never fully hit until then. How close he is to popping, how round he looks, and the fact they can feel them MOVING..... Oh he's miserable. Can't control their bladder, hurts to walk for long periods of time, he's having magick surges which is giving him bad headaches, his morning sickness is back full swing, you name it. Lots of more comfort and princess treatment.

Phantom would probably want to have a nest-birth rather than in the hospital, and only wants Aether and Special. See, Phantom's never had a true grasp on his magick. But when he starts pushing, everyone gets freaked out as the lights flicker, TVs going to static, turning on/off randomly, and with one last scream a light bulb explodes.

He's crying, Aether's crying happy tears, and another confused cry is joining them. Little damn furball is squirming in Special's hands, being so delicate as he tries to finish up before laying the bloody kit on Phantom's chest. Phil going back to work while he lets Phantom and Aether slowly groom their baby boy.

Oh he's so perfect in every aspect. Little toe beans that are black and white, tiny fangs poking out, and despite all the fur, has such pretty skin with little white freckles like Aether. Constellations. Also Aether's big ears!

Probably name him after a constellation because of the freckles :3 I'm thinking Comet.

They're holding each other close, Aether claiming their son with a quick nip and going back to scenting, just laughing and crying in disbelief and pure happiness. Their own little family!

[nosferatu-png]

Can you tell me about some of your Zephrit hcs? Your art sent me into a Zephrit rabbit hole lol

I'M SO HONOURED!! Feel free to ask about any specifics too!

One of my favorites is that Zephyr tends to stick to themselves a lot but Ifrit LOVES dragging them along to whatever he's doing.

He also LOVES dancing with them! Ifrit is a wiggly-dancey ghoul to begin with, but it makes him so happy to twirl Zephyr around or just sway with them.

Zephyr on the other hand is obsessed with kissing Ifrit. Not even in any particular way, they just love the way he feels and laughs. They would do anything to see his smile. Smooches EVERYWHERE.

They also both love to take care of eachother. Ifrit helping Zephyr with their mobility aids or their oxygen. Zeph making Frit cups of tea and making sure he isn't over-exherting himself. Even the smallest things. They're just absolutely whipped for eachother

[genderlessghoul]

Hey! I am new to your page, so I am not sure if you already been asked this or not, but out of all the Ghoul Masks which Era is your favorite?

I'm so glad you asked this because not only do I have a favourite era, I have a favourite mask (singular).

I don't think it's gonna come off as a surprise that my favourite era is Impera.

As much as I love the Prequel mask, as does everyone here, I'm absolutely obsessed with the insane departure from all the previous eras to Impera. If we're only talking about the masks, I love the different textures, I love the more natural materials, I love the shapes!

Leatherwork is a medium that's a lot closer to me than scuplting and I admire the craftsmanship on these masks tremendously. I don't know much about the masks from Opus and Infest, but we know that Meliora and Prequel were all casted from molds. This is not to undermine the work that went into sculpting those three masks, it took a lot of work and the results were brilliant... But the Impera masks are all handmade, and as someone who sews, I tend to appreciate this kind of work more.

NOW! I said I had a singular favourite, so let me show you.

It's Dew's. Since all the masks are handmade, they all have slight variations that give them all a unique shape. I'm pretty sure most people who spent a lot of time looking at their costumes would tell you they can recognize the ghouls based of their "face", just by looking at the shape of the mask and the way it sits on a performer's head.

Example : Rain, Dew, Phantom, Aether

Dew is my favourite for three reasons.

1 : The "face" is the most interesting to me, it's my favourite shape.

2 : HEAVY on the white horns, I think they contrast so nicely with the mostly back uniform. I also really like the shape or them, they're short with a bigger base and look almost like triangles, I like that better than the thinner ones on other masks.

3 : I'm so glad they didn't change it for Re-Impera, the little wing on the side, next to the eye. Aether had the same one on the left of his mask, I'm being really picky but I like it way better on the right.

[mutt-sys]

TELL ME ABT YOUR GHOUL ELEMENT TRAITS RNN!!!! INFO DUMP RN. RN I SAY!

ELEMENT TRAITS?? OKAY GHOUL EXPERIMENT AU, HOW DO THEIR ELEMENTS AFFECT THEM? LET'S GO BABY(No multi ghouls cause they're a mix of everything)

We're starting off strong with Mountain cause he's my favorite, he has the ability to grow flowers and plants. In the early stages of his experiment he would spontaneously grow mushrooms all over his body, they were very painful to remove and it would leave scars on his body. As he got older and more accustomed to his new body he was able to grow things on command without straining his body.

Cirrus and Cumulus are the same, they're able to steal people's breath. They can also create tornadoes in the palms of their hands, if this is mixed with fire or water it can become bigger and much more powerful. The girls are able to stop someone's breathing or blood flow which can kill them in a matter of minutes if done properly, they're also able to throw things across the room with a draft of air.

Rain has the ability to control anything water related, if he's in the water he can create tidal waves and whirlpools so strong it can drown someone in a matter of minutes. Rain can also make water levitate and shift into what needs, if he controls it properly he can move it around, but Rain isn't that dangerous on land.

Dewdrop is dangerous, he can heat things up and melt practically anything. Dew can create small flames on his hands which he can use against people, his skin will begin to boil if it reaches a certain point and it's best to steer clear of him when it's like that.

Aether can make things levitate alongside being able to manipulate your perception of reality, Aether is considered the most dangerous ghoul. He can make you hallucinate or he can drive you insane, he knows how to use his powers well and the Sermon uses that against him.

[forlorn-crows]

Mushy May Day 25: 'Adopting' a Stray Animal

Characters: Mountain, Cirrus, Dew, new animal friends

Words: 1073

behold, hank the raccoon lore!!

"Mountain,” Cirrus says warily. “That is a wild animal."

The earth ghoul remains unbothered. "He's my friend." 

"A friend with rabies, probably," Dew mutters, arms crossed protectively in front of his chest.

"Don't say that about Hank, that's rude."

"Hank?!"

"Can he not have a name?"

"It's not that he can't, it's–"

"Good," he doesn't wait for Cirrus to finish. "Because his name is Hank." 

The wild animal in question is a (rather fat) racoon currently bumbling about the greenhouse. Hank sits perched atop one of the worn benches munching on the remnants of a puffed cheese snack. Mountain reaches into the pocket of his work apron, producing another bright orange cheese ball and holding it palm-out for the raccoon to take. Hank chitters and plucks the snack from his hand, holding it between his paws as he munches.

"You just fed him a cheese ball," Dew deadpans, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"They're his favorite," Mountain replies. He pops a ball into his own mouth, crunching noisily. 

The fire ghoul scoffs. “Did he tell you that?”

“You think because I’m an earth ghoul I can talk to animals?”

Cirrus looks between Hank and Mountain, seriously contemplating the idea. “I mean . . .” Hank finishes the cheese ball and wipes his paws on his cheeks, leaving little neon orange crumbs in his whiskers. He flicks his tail and peers up at Cirrus, little black eyes shining with curiosity. 

He can only be described as round, which is nothing out of the ordinary for a raccoon, of course. There isn’t anything particularly distinguishable about him—standard wide black and white banded face framed by white whiskers, little bits of brown above the nose, tiny sharp fangs pointing past black lips, wiry double coat and matching banded tail, too-tiny paws. Standard, that is, save for the scarred tear in his left ear. It cuts through the center, splitting his ear into two tufts. He paws at it now as if to scratch Cirrus’ and Dew’s gaze off of him. 

The scar piqued Mountain’s interest the first time Hank came toddling up to him, chirping with curiosity at the snack he was scarfing down after a long day of work in the greenhouse. The snack in question was of the cheesy variety, of course: a tiny bag of white cheddar popcorn. 

“I see you eyeing my snack, little one,” he had said, stopping to let the raccoon brush up against his bare ankles. The animal let out a quiet chitter, staring pointedly at Mountain’s hand. His eyes had shone with a glimmer of mischief, too cute to resist. The earth ghoul sighed amusedly and tossed a few pieces of popcorn down to him. 

“Just a few; I’m sure you know there’s more nutritious snacks out here for you.” He couldn’t blame him for desiring processed snacks, though, they were pretty delicious. The raccoon had taken them happily, cradling each kernel between his tiny paws and munching away with delight. 

“Enjoy the treat,” Mountain trilled, reaching down to give him a tentative pet between the ears before returning to the abbey. Some may call it a mistake, but ultimately it was the start of a budding friendship between ghoul and raccoon.

Mountain started seeing him around more frequently, little eyes peeking at him from behind a tree trunk or the outcropping of rocks by the lake. He would never ignore the crinkle of a chip bag or the tasty aroma of freshly picked berries—but only ever when Mountain was alone. He felt a fondness grow for the creature, blooming to the point where he would stash a variant of cheese snack in his pockets any time he left the abbey, just in case his friend were to appear. 

Naming him had been the only logical next step. “Hm,” he had pondered, holding out another cheese ball to the raccoon as they sat in Mountain’s favorite forest clearing. “What do you think about . . . Bandit?”

The little thing hissed softly, baring his tiny fangs at the suggestion. “Okay, okay, no Bandit. Um. Little One?” He snorted and began grooming himself. “You don’t complain about the nickname,” Mountain grumbled. “Okay, what about . . . Cheddar? Since you like the cheese balls so much?”

The raccoon huffed and rammed his squat body into Mountain’s thigh, banging his hard head against his leg. “Ow!” Mountain yelped, rubbing his hand over the spot he rammed into. “Lucifer, you’re like a tank,” he complained. 

The raccoon had perked up at that, hopping onto Mountain’s lap and gazing up at him with those dark eyes. “Tank?” His scarred ear flicked in annoyance. He pawed at the earth ghoul’s stomach as if pleading with him to try again. “Uh, you like how it sounds? But not Tank?” The raccoon rubbed his cheek into his shirt in agreement. “Okay . . . um. Huh–Hank, then?”

He had given the most delighted scratchy squeal, flopping onto his back and snuggling further into Mountain’s lap. The earth ghoul laughed and gave him a scratch on his soft exposed tummy. “Hank it is, then.”

Mountain supposes that’s the closest he’s gotten to actually talking to animals. He says as much to Cirrus and Dew, who are currently looking at him skeptically. Somewhere in the midst of telling his story, he’s scooped up Hank into his arms, cuddling him like a baby or perhaps a small dog. His fluffy tail certainly wags like one, swishing along the earth ghoul’s forearm as he pets behind his ears. 

“So is the raccoon your . . .  pet, then?”

“He’s not my pet,” he sighs, letting Hank roll out of his arms and pad towards the open doorway. “He’s still a ‘wild animal,’ as you so kindly pointed out. But he’s my friend. And I like when he hangs around.”

“Well,” Cirrus chirps, “it’s kind of cute, I guess!”

“It’s fuckin’ weird,” Dew mutters.  

Before Mountain can form another defense, there’s a loud screech from the doorway, followed by a soft purring meow. The three turn towards the noise in time to see Hank scampering happily around an elegant white cat. 

“Ah, Juniper, lovely to see you this morning,” Mountain laughs, striding over to greet her. 

“Juniper?!”

“She wasn’t so vocal about her name.” Mountain stoops down to run his hand down her back. She closes her eyes and gives a loud purr in return. “Found her in a juniper bush one day. Hank’s really taken a liking to her, as you can see.”

Dew scoffs, shaking his head. "Earth ghouls . . ."

[spoiledleaff]

cw for angst featuring dew and aeon. it's one of those nights, lads uwu

additional tw for self-mutilation ft. short haired dew + fears of abandonment and the desire to cut imagined losses.

"don't look at me," dewdrop begs; he's kneeling shattered on the floor, scraps of his own burnt hair lying dead between his claws while his entire body shivers with the weight of unacknowledged sins.

aeon is quiet—he doesn't know what to do. he's never heard dewdrop beg before, not like this. never like this.

"wh-why?" he asks, soft. fragile. as though the sound of his voice would extinguish the embers of dewdrop's flame if he spoke too loudly. "what's wrong?" he asks again, genuine in his curiosity and fear.

there's smoke falling from the gaps between dewdrop's teeth. it reminds the runt of the haze of a cigarette he shared with a brother of blasphemy; it reminds him of death, that the brother could die tomorrow from poisoned lungs and aeon would have to move forward with his damnation. it scares him. it smells foul.

"what happened to your hair?" aeon gasps, wide eyes falling on the rotten gold strands in dewdrop's hands.

"i- i don't know," dewdrop sobs, and aeon honestly can't tell if the ghoul is lying or not, "i think i pulled it out."

"why?" aeon asks again. his voice quivers, and the little ghoul wonders if he might start to cry.

"i think- i think i deserved it." decaying gold spills from the spaces between dewdrop's claws. "i think it needed to go."

aeon's quiet, thoughtful. everyone in the ministry knows how prideful dewdrop is of his appearance. whether or not it's a facade is known only to the chosen few—namely mountain and aether, who share a bond with the ghoul that aeon could never hope to worm his way into; he doesn't want to in the first place, it would feel immoral. even rain or swiss don't seem to know the full extent of dewdrop's tendencies, let alone most of the ghoulettes.

but dewdrop's hair is a favorite pastime of everyone in the ministry. aeon can't count how many times he's seen cumulus fawning over how much better he's taking care of it, or the occasional sibling who gets to twirl the sun-kissed strands between their fingers or braid a small section without fear of a revenge prank.

dewdrop's hair, to aeon, is like a physical manifestation of his connection to all those he holds dear.

"can i keep it then?"

"...wh-what?"

"uhm," aeon fumbles; he wasn't expecting his vessel to say such a thought aloud, "can i keep it? your hair, i mean."

"my... my hair?"

"yeah." aeon stumbles closer, though his eyes don't leave dewdrop's once. "i could- uhm, i could take care of it for you. so... so when you want it back, i'll have it. i'll give it back to you when you're ready."

dewdrop's silent, and aeon thinks he might've started quietly crying five minutes ago.

"o...okay."

aeon's crouching besides dewdrop in a manner of seconds; their shoulders bump together and aeon selfishly basks in the dull warmth of his fellow ghoul. he cups his hands, holds them out for dewdrop to drop the burnt strands of hair in. his hands are shaking. aeon wants to hold them once they're done.

"i'll take care of it for you," aeon babbles, though he doesn't care, "when you're ready, you can come back; i'll give them back to you."

aeon can hear the way dewdrop's breath hitches, how dew's skin lingers against his fingers. dewdrop's nose is running, and aeon thinks a glob has dripped onto his wrist; he doesn't care.

'when you're ready, i'll be here waiting for you.'

[terzosbignaturals]

may i offer some ghoulette comfort hcs in these trying times?

i got no explanation for this really i failed a midterm and i'm sad so take these -- CUMULUS.

this woman is the cuddling expert

you barely have to even say anything to her-- her arms are already wide open for you to sink into

she's one of the more emotionally conscious of the ghouls, and even if she didn't pick up on that particular scent humans have when they're holding back tears, she'd be able to tell from your glassy eyes and stiff posture

she has an arm draped over your shoulders as she leads you to her nest to wrap you up in her fluffiest blanket and hold you close. accompanying you in The Nest(tm) are countless very-well-loved stuffed animals which she might pile on top of you to make you smile eventually, but for now...

has you rest your head on her chest and cards her fingers through your hair soothingly, whispering gentle words of comfort.

if you want to talk about it she's the most amazing listener, if not, she's content to just lie there and hold you until you're feeling a bit better!

eventually she'll start humming to you and it's pretty much impossible to not fall asleep wrapped in her arms (and you bet she's gonna be there when you wake up as well, getting up while you sleep is the equivalent of moving a cat sleeping on your lap to her.)

-- CIRRUS.

not as good at picking up on it as cumulus is at first, but if you know her well you bet she's memorized all of your mannerisms.

PROTECTIVE MF

like as soon as she notices you're feeling down, she's scooping you up and taking you to the ghoulettes' wing.

doesn't care if you're in the middle of ministry duties-- gives an absolutely withering glare to anyone who tries to stop y'all or tell you you can't leave.

once you're alone, urges you to tell her what's going on, she wants nothing more than to understand so she can help you properly

if you're sad because someone did or said something to you, lord help them

you can see the way her eyes darken as soon as the name leaves your lips, although her expression remains soft

"don't you worry about them, hun, I'll take care of it from here."

they might go missing in the next couple of days, maybe the next week, but don't you worry your pretty little head about it :)

plays her keyboard for you!!! has you sit on the bench nestled between her legs, leaning back against her as she plays a little concert of your favorite songs just for you

if you're a musician, she'll walk you through some of the chords so you can learn to play them yourself! places her hands over yours and moves your fingers so you can memorize their placement and satan her touch is so soothing

-- AURORA.

THE friend to rant to

even if you're mostly sad about whatever happened, as she listens to you speak, she'll get absolutely pissed on your behalf

"are you-- oh my satan are you SERIOUS?! that's fucking bullshit!"

you will most definitely have to talk her out of yelling at someone on your behalf, whether that's a shitty boss who assigned you way too much work for one person or a professor that gave you too little time for an exam.

even in her human glamour she can be intimidating as fuck, after all--

-- and that's just on her own. when there's something she particularly finds unjust, she'll rope cirrus into it as well

and oh boy you do NOT want to be on the receiving end of those two's wrath.

not so experienced with the whole comforting aspect of things, but gives excellent hugs-- tight, secure, and will lift you off the ground no matter if you're taller than her or not, she's stronger than she looks.

-- SUNSHINE.

this calls for an emergency intervention.

no sooner does she see your face, she's aggressively speed-dialing

"dew? swiss? get over here, we've got an emergency. bring the switch."

at first, you're a tad concerned that you'll have to keep the Terrible Trio from stabbing someone with a switchblade on your behalf

but your concern is swiftly and thoroughly alleviated as you're treated to the most intensely chaotic game of Mario Kart you've ever experienced.

the stakes are astronomical. you've gotten three noise complaints from three different siblings. you're all crowded so close to the TV that you're pretty sure you'll end up with eye damage, throwing your arms up in triumph as your green shell smacks Dew's kart head-on, prompting a rainbow of hissed-out curses

swiss has fallen off rainbow road seven times-- you've kept count-- and is somehow still tailing you and Sunshine, giggling maniacally

it's the third lap. the finish line is IN SIGHT, and Sunshine is whooping in pre-victory, just barely keeping her grasp on first place by the inch or so between your karts.

"OH MY SATAN COME ON PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE--"

you catch a glimpse of the blue shell before Sunny does

and you'll never forget the sheer art of her expression as her victorious euphoria melts into absolute and utter horror

someone's screaming at the top of their lungs

dew falls to his knees, overcome with emotion

swiss is somehow driving backwards now

and the moment the pixelated 1st symbol appears on your screen, you're leaping to your feet in triumph, nearly losing your grip on your controller as you thank the hells below for your hard-won victory

"SHUT UP!" yells someone who is probably Rain from the room over

and you find you can't even remember what you were sad about in the first place

[littlehypnone]

a little nervous cause I've never asked before but have you written about any of the ghouls feeling little when they're sick?

like a head cold or allergies (now that spring its here!)

i did write things roughly like that a few times, for example here, here, and here if you wanna check them out, but i scribbled something new for you

500 words, little phantom (they/them) and cg dew, allergy

Phantom has been sneezing for two days straight non-stop. It was maddening in the most negative way possible. He felt like he could and would cry, eyes stinging and burning, and he was going crazy, upset and overstimulated with it all.

After dinner—that he absolutely didn’t have an appetite for and that was only a series of sneezes—he holed himself up in his room, comforter up to his nose at first, but then he had to lower it to be able to breathe. He was so tired of it, he felt his mind slipping and they found themself reaching for their favorite plushie and clutching it tight to their chest.

Phantom closed their eyes, hoping sleep would take them without fuss and let them take a nap, but after what felt like hours of waiting, it didn’t come. They whined loudly and curled into an even tighter ball than they already were after another sneeze shook their body.

They heard their door opening, and if not their stuffy nose they’d recognize by the smell alone it was Dewdrop who entered their space. “Ant? You alright?”

The quintessence ghoul whimpered and opened their eyes. Dewdrop noticed immediately that they had dropped and he came over to sit at the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong, batling?”

“‘ve been s– sneezin’ all the time and ‘m t–tired, mama,” Phantom whined.

“Oh, my poor baby,” the fire ghoul put a hand on their head, gently scratching at their scalp in hopes of soothing the little ghoul a bit. “We’ve got ourselves a new ghoulie allergic to pollen, haven’t we?”

“Was’a lergic?”

“When spring is coming flowers have those silly powders,” Dewdrop started explaining as he was settling himself against the headboard and inviting Phantom to lay against his chest. “You can ask Mountain, he’ll tell you all about it. Those powders make some ghouls and humans feel bad, like sneezing and hurting eyes.”

“I h– have that,” the quintessence ghoul mumbled, offended.

“Yeah, turns out you do,” Dewdrop patted their head. “But don’t worry, there’s medicine. Aether will take care of it, alright, batling?”

“Okay, m– mama.”

“In the meantime,” the fire ghoul wrapped a hand around Phantom’s shoulders and scooted both of them down, laying properly in the fluffy nest. “You need a nap.”

“Mhm… ‘m tired.” The little ghoul snuggled themself into the other’s chest and kicked up a purr. Well, at least they tried because it soon got interrupted by another sneeze. “Ouch.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, batling,” Dewdrop cooed and hugged them tighter. “I’ll text Aether right away.”

“Mhm,” they hummed. The fire ghoul put a warm hand on their back hoping it would help at least a little bit. Phantom didn’t try to purr again, but their contentement was obvious to Dewdrop. Just as he promised, he texted Aether and when the quintessence ghoul let him know he’d prepare the meds, Dewdrop turned his phone off and cuddled around the little ghoul in his arms and closed his eyes, too.

[neonscandal]

"Sure. So for Geto it's mostly that I don't like villains with a bigoted ideology and he's too incompetent to even fall in the "love to hate" category. Really, the worst thing a villain can be is incompetent and Geto in Vol 0 is barely better than your average disney villain. Doesn't help that he never gets pushback on his ideals. Gojo tells him in Premature Death that killing people is bad, but that's it. He spouts his bullshit about how genocide is totally necessary and Yuuta stands there like "idk you might be right, but you want to kill people I care about and that's the real crime here". Nobody really engages with his ideology except Yuki I guess, but that was before he became an antagonist. I could forgive that to a degree if he was at least a real threat, but he isn't. You don't get any of that with Geto, he's not even fun to hate because he barely provides any pushback. He's a bad villain and I dislike him as a person as well. His descent into embracing the superiority of sorcerers and resolving to kill all non-sorcerers was well written, but I don't feel for him at all. Good riddance to the guy, I'm glad he's now dead both in body and mind."

I was so sad, when reading this, what do you think?

When previously asked about JJK Antagonists I didn't mention Geto even though... he is my favorite.

It should also be said that, in terms of scary movies, I love a good creature feature or a deluge into the supernatural but, the scariest movies to me? Will always be the ones with human villains because they're far more plausible.

That summation of Geto is that person's opinion so I, personally, am unmoved by it. I've seen so many piss poor interpretations of Gojo and Geto's characterizations that it's honestly just best to let the story play out so people can retroactively come to some sort of understanding. Moreover, I think there are a lot of people who struggle to concede that, between Gojo and Geto, there was always love. Without that, you can't understand his spiral, you can't acknowledge the humanity of the villain. Moreover, to not understand Geto is to not understand Gojo. And.. since JJK seems to very much be a circular parallel between SatoSugu and ItaFushi, if you can't understand them you miss the whole story.

I'd be curious what villain doesn't have a bigoted and/or radical ideology, especially in shonen? They're meant to be horrible and hard to empathize with. Unless that person's tolerance for villainy is Oikawa from Haikyuu? Most stories hinge on the main character espousing a piece of whatever makes villains.. villains. RE: Yuji being a cursed vessel, Denji being a devil, Tanjiro's proximity to demons, Eren being a titan, Kaneki being a ghoul... I'd argue Naruto and Nine Tails but literally haven't seen the show at all to confidently compare.

Even so, let's get into Geto.

Gorgeous, gorgeous boy. So earnest, so upright... so forged to break.

I recently went on a tirade about SatoSugu which I won't rehash here because... then I'll feel inclined to add more and no one wants to see an adult woman cry today.

As a character, Geto attempts to be incredibly principled. Design wise, he is stylized with features that liken him to Buddha which I think he individually plays into as well to give himself some sort of identity. From his long hanging lobes signifying wisdom and compassion capable of hearing the cries of the suffering, to his gentle chastising of Gojo's flippancy. He believes that the strong should protect the weak while also keeping the strong in check. But... how would a jujutsu outsider come to such a noble ideal?

We know next to nothing about Geto's parents except that they were not sorcerers and, based on his affectionate ability to recognize family beyond blood ties, I think it'd be fair to make some assumptions about what typically informs a characters predilection for the found family trope. 👀

His cursed technique, I think, creates an impetus for purpose. I don't know how he figured out he could do curse manipulation. But we know he swallows the curse, the likes of which is compared to a rag that had been used to mop up vomit, in order to subjugate it. This process, this martyrdom of ingesting the negative run off of mankind has to have a reason to justify his suffering. Because, as the only person we see with this technique, it must feel like a burden only he knows. Moreover, with a special class technique, it's not like he's given much of a choice. But if it helps people, if it has meaning, purpose... he can endure.

We've seen the perfect storm of events that, don't necessarily challenge his pre-existing ideals, but... force him to question whether the ends justify the means. We can call each of these events a moral injury and I don't think it's a stretch to say that there is a link between staunch morality and radicalism which I'm going to bastardize as saying a person may have their ideals on a righteous pedestal. Believing that if I do "A" and "B" then "C" is sure to follow and it allows them purpose and reason. But life is seldom free of other stimuli. I'm not going to go into great depth about examples of this but suffice it to say, this break in Geto's belief system caused an internal chasm we see immediately.

When Gojo asks him if he should kill the believers that applauded Riko's death, Geto said "no, there'd be no reason" which I believe is sufficient for Gojo since he readily leans on Geto as a moral compass. But Geto keeps rationalizing further, likely to curb his own impulse to kill those gathered ignorantly in celebration. OP talks about no pushback on his ideals but the truth of the matter is the biggest pushback for Geto is internal.

When he decided to slaughter that village, he didn't leave a margin of error to come back from. He had to keep moving forward, keep pushing to achieve this impossible world because to not would mean that the atrocities he committed were done in vain and we know, from his characterization, that he would not be able to accept that. Gojo speaks of Geto not starting a war he can't win during JJK0 which is empirically incorrect. When they parted ways in high school, Geto relented that with Gojo's power, his vision could come into fruition. They both knew he didn't have the means to achieve this but he didn't have anything else to stand on. So he hurled himself further and further from his previous path of righteousness and further from himself. He'd committed too great a sin to not give it meaning. To question it now would shatter him completely.

So much of what makes Geto compelling is the fact that he is inherently characterized as a good person, forthright and gentle. He'd have been a great teacher. In fact, the events that transpired between Gojo and Geto are why Gojo is a teacher in the first place. I believe he tried to be a great father figure to Nanako and Mimiko (again, let's forget the murder for a minute) because he pointedly did not raise them in the ways or traditions of jujutsu society. He protected them as best he could even though they still didn't survive their teenage years because they were ignorant about binding vows with sorcerers! Crazy when you think about it. Even what he thought to be a kindness to them cost them fatally.

Things happened to him, likely intentionally, to create this departure from reality and the jujutsu world. He was forged to break because he lacked the flexibility and nonchalance to not be overly concerned for others. He wasn't a diabolical genius, he was overly compassionate and at a complete and total loss when terrible things continually happened to good people who were already sacrificing so much. Riko Amanai was resigned to give up her short life to guarantee the future of Japan. Haibara was a ray of sunshine who, with the means to do so, wanted to help people. The twins were simply cursed to see things the other villagers couldn't, a burdensome reality that damned them to a life he was finding no meaning in, himself. His weakness perhaps lay in a weakness of character? but I wouldn't even say that, honestly. He's like placid water hiding a violent undercurrent deep below the surface.

The gap between who he was and who he died as should be jarring. It should be a demonstration of the grisly reality of jujutsu society. Where classes of 2-3 children are regularly pressed to fight beyond their means against horrors only they know. The sacrifices of the few to protect the many regardless of their virtue. That's the point. He was a casualty of a system that would always lead him toward a moral crisis.

[miasmaghoul]

you have so got me thinking about best to worst ghouls in so many different situations now (that riding one was soooooo good)

how about your best to worst ghoul takes on fingering? 😏 (thank you and happy new year!)

OUGH FINGERING MY BELOVED yes absolutely let's go

once again, best to worst below the cut!

Dew - he prides himself on his skill and efficiency. if he's with someone who can easily orgasm more than once (Rain, Cumulus, Aurora, Aeon) then he will absolutely make them cum on his fingers before he fucks them. he knows everyone's most sensitive spots, and every ghoul (plus a couple Papas and, on occasion, Sister Imperator) is guilty of dragging him into a closet at one point or another specifically so he can show off those skills.

Aether - is it cheating to use quintessence to find weak spots? Aether doesn't think so, and no one has complained so far. he lets the magick trickle from his fingers, just a whisper of static, and suddenly they're moaning and writing and grabbing for whatever part of him they can reach. at this point he doesn't NEED the magickal assistance, but the others love the feel of it alongside those thick fingers so he keeps it up.

Cirrus - precision is the name of the game for her. it's a power thing, of course, and Cirrus delights in getting all the big, strong ghouls face down ass up and whimpering while she abuses every secret soft spot they have. like Dew, will make the others cum on her fingers first and foremost, but unlike Dew she does it to EVERYONE. if they can't cum again for a while that's not her problem. they'll take whatever she gives anyway, even if they leak a few overstimulated tears along the way.

Swiss - it's one of his favorite things to do. insists on eye contact while he touches them inside, needs to see every twitch of their brow and to watch their cheeks flush. he wants to see the pleasure he causes plain as day, wants them noisy and squirming while they fall apart because of him. he can get a little too intense sometimes, though, and a few of the others have trouble finishing under his scrutiny.

Cumulus - her fingers are skilled and delicate, but also short. she knows exactly what buttons to push, make no mistake, but it can be challenging for her to really work them like that. pianist's hands are lovely to have, but her fingers only have so much reach. if she's fingering anyone, it's paired with oral so she can be sure they feel good.

Mountain - long, callused fingers and unmatched rhythm speak of good things, but Mountain likes to be really, really slow about it. indulgent. he's not in a rush to make anyone cum, not as a rule, and he'll spend as long as he likes with just one finger inside until they can't stand it anymore and demand another. he'll give it to them, of course, but the languid pace remains the same.

Rain - long, elegant fingers lend themselves well to the task, but Rain will not give anyone more than two of them. he can make them cum like that, of course, but he doesn't usually put in specific effort to that end. much prefers to make them cum on his cock so he gets something out of it too. call him greedy if you want, he'll agree. he prefers having his fingers sucked on anyway.

Sunshine - she has quick fingers, but mostly uses them to stretch her partners. her goal is usually to stick her dick in them asap, and she doesn't really have the patience to do much more than prep with them. but she won't say no if someone wants to make out and shoves her hand down their pants, as long as they return the favor.

Aeon - he's learning, but it's not his favorite thing to do in all honesty. he has this Thing about keeping his hands and fingers protected (Dew and Rain had the same issue when they were new), so sticking them in places doesn't appeal to him all that much. at least not yet. Dew keeps telling him that'll change, but in the meantime Aeon prefers keeping his fingers visible.

Aurora - she's just so little, is the thing. her fingers are short and skinny and her forearms get sore quick. besides, she prefers to receive than give anyway. the less work she has to do, the better. at least until she's cum a couple times, then she's a bit more willing to give it a go. still, though, she'd rather use other parts of her body to bring pleasure.

[papal-babygirl]

the body is mostly blood

well. i became severely sad after brisbane, so i made everyone's favorite whump ghoul get sad as well. aether's dead, copia might be soon, and little dewdrop isn't coping very well.

also no. i dont want to talk about the fact that this is 10k words. just be grateful it is.

read on ao3, or continue below

-

Dew should be in the mood for celebrations. Everyone else seems content to be, Aurora excitedly searching up the hottest nightclubs in Brisbane, flicking through hair colors for her glamour while Phantom peers over her shoulder to offer his advice. Cirrus is leaning back into Cumulus' chest, breaths whistling softly through her angelically parted lips as she dozes. She'll join the new kids, and she'll swear she didn't have a nap on the bus. No one will say anything against it, lest she invite them to her room for apologies back at the Abbey. Mountain has taken up residence around Rain's lithe body, nose buried in his hair as Rain's tail wraps around Mountain's wrist. They sway with the movement of the bus, and to some little tune they're sharing with Rain's headphones. Swiss is deep in a low conversation with Copia, probably talking about some vintage whiskey he'd like to share with his Papa and see where the night takes them.

So that just leaves Dew. Back of the bus alone, noise cancelling headphones on, listening to the loudest, angriest music he could find. He'd gone through the effort to put it on his phone after it managed to disappear from the Internet— he might as well listen to the fucking thing. He has his phone open to his texts, cursor blinking at him as he indulges in his worst habit.

A conversation stares up at him, a few months old now, long discontinued. A conversation with Aether.

Aeth 🖤

Haha you know I got you babe

Dewbug 💧

you are the wind beneath my wings 🕊️

It's the last thing he ever sent to Aether, or rather the last thing Aether ever read. There's a wall of messages from over the past months, none of them sent, and certainly none of them received. Telling Aether how much he's tried to hate Phantom, as if it would bring him back. How the little shit managed to worm his way into some small portion of the hole Aether left. The sheer amount that Sunny would have clicked with Aurora, two little fireballs of energy and life. How his day had gone, how tour was going, little things that made Dew remember him. And every now and again, breathless, sobbing messages, barely legible because Dew couldn't get his hands to stop shaking.

He types out a message a few times and deletes it, like this isn't just some masochistic diary. Eventually he just starts typing and sending before he can even think, and then thinks about throwing his phone out the bus window.

Tour finished tonight. I know how much you loved this country. How much you loved this world. I wish you could have seen this crowd, shit. It just gets bigger every time.

I'm sorry I never stopped missing you.

I'm sorry about the hole left in my chest. The new kids don't deserve it. They're so young and full of life.

You would have been so proud of Phantom. He handles that fucking Fantomen better than either of us ever did, sorry to say.

Copia called himself frail, the fucker. Watched that sea of phones go up, like it's a game to them. Maybe it is. Maybe they don't realize.

Well I mean he stuck a fucking ice cube down his pants, I can't blame them for wanting to keep that forever. 

Satanas, I hope I keep him forever.

Dew presses his forehead against the window of the bus, rattling his skull in a way that's perversely satisfying as the bus rounds a corner. When they arrive at their hotel, a sleepy little collection of cabins he's heard a couple locals — and Mountain — call a caravan park, he makes his way to his room without even so much as a goodnight to everyone else. He has no idea if anyone else notices, but he hears and promptly ignores Copia's soft voice calling after him. He just can't tonight, just can't face pity and look into those sad eyes and pretend like he isn't scared out of his mind.

He's similarly distant at the airport, hood drawn up and sunglasses shielding his eyes. Everyone else has a pounding headache from the celebrations, Dew just can't handle the idea of being witnessed. He sits apart from the group when they get to their gate, ready for that long haul back to Stockholm and wishing he could let some of his glamour slip. He feels itchy and cooped up, and maybe if he could soothe the spade of his tail like a kit does, he'd feel a little better.

But as kind as Copia is about their forms, that's a step too far. It's not like Dew is going to do anything to face the wrath of the Ministry, certainly not now, so he just contents himself with knowing he's got a few good months of letting his wings free coming up soon. He's sat beside Copia, to his infinite dismay and his eternal delight. Their hands stay tangled under the blanket the whole flight, as few words are exchanged between them. Neither feel like talking much, and Copia spends about half the trip snoring away anyways. 

The Abbey welcomes them like a parent awaiting the empty nest to be filled again for the holidays, warm and insistent but also a little bittersweet. Everyone knows it is not meant to last. As Copia gives his first sermon back to a rapt group of Siblings, worn lines gracing the curves of his face, Dew has to leave Black Mass halfway through for the first time in his infernal life. There's something in the way the light hits Copia's face that makes him seem as frail as he toyed with being on stage, tired and beaten down. Hopefully his Unholy Father can find some way to forgive him the transgression. He presses a kiss to the icon of Asmodeus on his rosary and makes a silent promise to the Saint of Hell that he won't whine next time he's asked to deal with the hundreds of candles in the chapel.

As he walks, his legs carry him on well worn paths, ones he remembers walking with dewier skin and a younger heart. The ever so slightly disastrous state of the garden calls to him, whatever little mote of water that remains between his ribs aches to help Mountain fix it the way he used to, even though the earth ghoul is still kneeling piously in the pews. The autumnal shade of the oaks lining the gothic courtyard remind him of years past, chasing after the love and affection of other Papas, and losing those just as easily as his beauty earned them. Dew ends up back in the dormitories, looking up with a start when he realizes he's at the place that hasn't been his room in years. It's the one he shared with… Satanas, he can't remember their name anymore. Back when he was still craving Secondo's attention, the little siren that he was.

Dew shakes off the memories and heads back to his own room, but not before passing Copia's door. It's obviously unoccupied, but there's a little pull from deep in Dew's gut that begs him to change that. He makes to continue towards his chambers, but he gets about three steps before doubling back and trying the doorknob tremulously. It gives— Copia had a terrible habit of leaving doors unlocked behind him. 

Copia’s room is a monument to his simple tastes, to the luxury of small things. It’s nowhere near as lavishly appointed as Terzo’s room was; there’s no sumptuous silks and fine rare dyes here, no gilt kissing the corners of everything. And it’s certainly not the somber elegance that Secondo surrounded himself in, high pile velvet that swallowed all light and sound until the room felt almost claustrophobic. No, it was about as breezy and light as the old Abbey could manage, windows perpetually open to let in the smell of fresh cut grass, or the breeze off the lake, or the sick-sweet rot of leaves as Dew notices now. The window is a panoply of cool colored diamonds of stained glass, casting a mottled glow onto the floor and on his arms that reminds Dew of hot summer days in the lake, of flirting with Mist as they ducked through the cool waters together and let their bodies twine in ecstasy. 

Dew crawls into the butter soft sheets, the delicate cream color feeling like it’s going to be sullied by his presence. He can’t call to mind the country of origin, though it sounded fancy when Copia decided to treat himself after a long tour with one too many scratchy sheets. Dew didn’t pay much attention, his thoughts were occupied otherwise as Copia ordered the sheets with one hand idly petting away between his horns. The little ghoul crawls into the divot formed by Copia’s body and buries his sensitive nose into the place where his head rests nightly. It’s an explosion of love that blasts the blackened char of his heart into a thriving, burning core again. It’s vanilla and jasmine, the first kiss of spring after a winter of using the powers forced on him to keep the Abbey’s residents warm, that very first time a timid Cardinal looked his way and said that he didn’t know if Dew would want the compliment, but that he was looking very nice today. (He hadn't been, he had smoldering sticks in his hair from where he'd dived into a bush to capture one of the Cardinal's rats.)

He delicately tangles his fingers up in the sheets, careful not to pierce or snag them with his claws, and curls up tight. The sensations in the room are all he can focus on; the ambient chatter from Siblings and ghouls alike that sings through the unhallowed halls, the decaying smell of the book glue holding together Copia's beloved and very old copy of the Malleus Maleficarum, the taste of his own bile on his tongue as tears rise unbidden to his lashes. Dew lets a few of the tears fall to the pillow, sullying the fine fabric with his own weakness. He barely notices the acid clang of the chapel bells ringing to signal the end of Black Mass, though when the door clicks open he shoots up guiltily, ears pinned back.

"Papa, I didn't, I-" His voice cracks from disuse, and Dew realizes then how little he's been around his pack since they got back. He slinks off to bed before anyone retires, has shrugged off invitations to movie nights and even brushed off Mountain when he was invited to spend some time in the greenhouse. He'd just needed his space, right?

"No, no, tesoro mio, you know you're always welcome. But I noticed you slip out of Mass, and you’re never absent from Mass.” Copia comes and sits on the bed, depressing it slightly. He puts a hand between them, bridging the gap in a way that leaves Dew the power to make the choice to reach out. Dew watches guiltily as his gloved fingers stroke idly along the grain of the fabric. His whole body screams at him to reach out, to make the connection, but he can’t make his arms move from where they’re wrapped around his wan frame. Trembling fingers soothe along the scars on his ribs where his gills used to be, and Copia moves his hand to Dew’s knee. “What prompted you to leave, Dewdrop?”

“I haven’t.. I haven’t been okay for a while, Papa.” Dew admits, voice low like a confession. Forgive him, Unholy Father, he knows full well what he’s done. “I can’t…” His voice clicks as more tears spill over his cheeks. He brings his knuckles up to brush the tears away, but they're interrupted by the soft kiss of leather as Copia catches the tears on his own fingers.

"Take your time, mio amato." Copia scoots a little further onto the bed, and in a flurry of hot limbs, Dew launches into his arms. He lets out a soft oof as he catches Dew, sinking a hand into the tangle of his hair. Dew paws at Copia's shirt for a lifeline, sobs shuddering his whole body.

"I can't lose you. I can't lose anyone else." Dew whispers hoarsely all in one breath, until he takes in another gasping breath and the tears fall heavier. He didn't think there was so much water left in his body. Copia tuts gently and strokes down each knob of Dew's spine, a soothe he discovered after Dew had his first panic attack under Copia's care. It had happened after that very first show where he was on lead guitar, with a body that felt alien and shouldering more responsibility than he could manage. The show had gone off without a hitch, but Copia had found Dew a sobbing mess on the floor of the dressing room. He'd stayed there longer than the venue really wanted, but it didn't matter. Copia was determined to stay until his ghoul was alright.

"You aren't going to lose me." Copia murmurs back, rubbing the thin space between Dew's shaking wings. The little fire ghoul whimpers piteously, claws sinking into Copia's shirt before he realizes with a gasp what he's done. "No, no, you're alright. It's just a shirt." He soothes, voice low and sonorous.

"Aeth said-" Dew can't finish the sentence, but Copia figures out rather quickly what his ghoul is implying. He knows well of the bond between the two, and how much it had pained Dew to have it severed. When the Ministry came to collect its assets, to recoup the loss of a very taxing new quintessence ghoul to summon, Aether had gone with a grace the barbaric act hardly deserved. But he'd not been given the choice to explain to his mates, or to even say goodbye. It was sudden, jarring, and Copia had been there to support Dew while he delivered the worst news to his pack that anyone could fathom.

"I know. I know it must sound like an empty promise. But who could take me away from you?" Copia says gently, pushing his hand under the hem of Dew's shirt to stroke the furred base of Dew's tail. "I would fight the forces of Heaven and Hell to keep you in my arms." 

"Who could take you away? The same people who took Aether, Sunshine, your brothers, Alpha, Omega, Ifrit. Should I go on?" Dew pulls back to look at Copia incredulously, tear tracks burned into his cheeks. He looks over Copia's face, takes in the life worn into his features, the freckles that Dew himself has kissed over after a night of passion. "You said it yourself, Papa, you said that you're frail. Your time is up soon. And you can tell me that some of it is toying with your flock but-" Dew cuts himself off with the memory of their arms wrapped around the others waist on stage, as Dew did his best to not look utterly besotted with his Papa. I love you, little man. Saints, the words ring in his head even now. How it thrilled his chest to be publicly declared worthy of the unholiest love he knows, how bittersweet the finality of it all felt on his tongue. "How am I supposed to know that when I wake up, you'll still be here?"

"I think you'll just have to trust me." Copia sighs, fingers still rubbing the little patch of fur that graces the transition from human to beast, from glamour to ghoul. "I know it is an impossible task."

"No. Trusting you is easy. It's the world I can't rely on." Dew rubs the tears away, a low purr kicking up at the gentle pets to his trembling body. His heart rate is starting to slow, that infernal core cooling off to a glowing coal. The panic takes a backseat to the fact that Copia is here, in his arms. For right now, whatever comes next is immaterial. 

"Then let me be your world, and rely on me." Copia breathes, pulling Dew into an achingly tender kiss. Dew can still smell the incense from Mass clinging to his hair, with that undercut of jasmine and salted tangerine from his cologne. That all too familiar scent is safety to Dew, it's love, it's home, it's hope. No matter the bouquet of pheromones that his pack has for him, it's never quite this combination. He would know Copia by this alone, by the brush of uncalloused fingers on his cheek, by the sound of rushing blood through his veins rather than ichor. 

The kiss finally lets Dew relax, wings drooping heavily as all the tension leaches from his body like his namesake evaporating in the heat of a summer morning. He's cried himself into emotional exhaustion, and now he just wants to be touched. He's tired of shutting himself off, tired of being on the outside of the pack, tired of being scared and wounded and crawling off to die alone like a cat. Copia pulls him closer, a low whine building in his throat that makes Dew crave him deeper than he ever thought possible.

"I love you." Dew pants when they both pull back for air, foreheads pressed together as Dew feels leather-clad hands exploring the familiar pathways of his body. His horns press softly against Copia, that eternal reminder of how different they are at their cores. "I've never- you.. I don't think I'll ever love like this again." Copia hums softly and kisses the corner of Dew's mouth, drawing him back in like the tide. 

"Maybe not. Maybe you will." Copia leans back slightly, bringing a hand up to his teeth to pull the glove off. Perhaps he doesn't notice how it makes all the hair on Dew's body stand on end, perhaps he notices and doesn't care, because he does it to the other one, clasping the gloves in one hand and gently tossing them to the desk where they land limply. His fingers are impossibly warm and soft as they come back to grace Dew's imperfect form, well manicured nails scraping ever so slightly. "All that matters to me is loving you here and now."

"Then love me. Love me fully." Dew begs, a whine creeping into his plea. But Copia isn't deterred by the vulnerability, isn't scared off by Dew's infernal ache. He pushes into the soft curve of Dew's jaw, leaves painted kisses there as he slowly pulls the shirt off that Dew stole from Mountain some years back. It hangs off him like a tunic, but no one could deny him whatever he wanted, considering he looked so loved in the oversized garment.

Perhaps it isn't wise to seek to heal this hurt with sins of the flesh; Dew recognizes this. And there is more yet to do to banish this pain from his mind, his soul, and perhaps truly it will never be gone. There is always going to be an indelible mark that the ones who are no longer here make on his pitch-heart, carve their name in hellish runes on the very surface of his obsidian bones. And in time, he will learn to live with this. In time he will wear the names of the departed with pride, and love, and welcome new names and new loves to become part of him. For right now, though, he is as shattered porcelain, begging to be put together anew. Changed by the process, but once again whole.

Dew sinks his claws into Copia's shirt again as his Papa's lips travel lower, kissing over his prominent collarbones, and up to the faded scars from his gills. Dew had tried to open them up once, a year or so after his transition. A delusion grabbed hold of his shattered psyche, convinced him that the beautiful creature he used to be lay still underneath the surface, needing to molt to become himself again. It was Aether who found him, fingers stained black with the effort of his pain, shaking and sobbing and woozy from blood loss. It was Aether who used his fledgling powers, tripping on the unsteady legs of a newborn deer to knit flesh back together again. And it was Aether who convinced him that he was beautiful any and every way he was, and that the cruelty of the powers that be was in no way his fault. 

The Ministry moved in mysterious ways, sometimes bold and striking declarations from Sister Imperator, and sometimes people unbeknownst to even Copia would show up and demand things of he who should be the highest power. It always unsettled Dew, made him feel as if Copia was little more than a dancing monkey, a figurehead puppet who they could shove in front of the yearning masses, who could take the fall when culture came to bite back. It was Copia, of course, who takes the blame for introducing the devil back into the 'good, Christian world'. Copia, of course, who takes the blame for corrupting youths by daring to imply that they should be loved as they are. Copia, of course, who is at fault for wanting his flock to feel and touch and love and fuck as much as their desires told them to, for what could be more human?

"Should I just take this thing off, eh?" Copia says with a smile, eyes flicking down to the long claw marks in the dog-collared button down. It only strikes Dew then that he probably came back to his room to get changed after Mass, only to find a very sad and vulnerable little ghoul in his bed. 

"Oh, I.. I didn't mean to-" Dew shrinks away from all the points of contact with Copia, only to have it chased right back as Copia slides his arms around Dew.

"It's just a shirt. Dime a dozen, dolcezza." Copia squeezes Dew gently, fingers finding scars with featherlight touches. The ones he's given himself, the ones inflicted on him, all fall away to nothing under Copia's careful touch. It's as if he's made anew. "Help me get out of it?" He doesn't need help— it's become tatters— but he wants Dew to unfurl, wants him to feel this. Dew plucks at the buttons gingerly, one by one, until he can push the shirt to the floor.

Dew takes a moment to regard the one he loves, the incrementally graying chest hair, his softness, the beautiful fallibility of his mortal flesh. He'd only started to notice Copia's temples going gray this most recent tour, and it was certainly fuel for the fire that was his anxiety. But in the objective sense, it granted him a handsome gravitas Dew couldn't deny. From the way his flock would cheer when he promised to fuck the crowd, it would seem that he wasn't alone in that opinion. Shaking claws reach to stroke along Copia's sensitive sides, and Dew watches with rapt attention as his perfect stomach twitches with barely contained laughter.

"You know I'm ticklish there, don't you?" Copia asks with a smirk, though both of them know that he is. "And yet the touch persists, how cruel of you." Dew finds himself smiling ever so slightly as he shifts and pushes Copia down to the plush bed, deft fingers attacking soft curves. Peals of laughter ring around the room from the both of them as they fall back into each other, into soft lingering kisses that feel first-time timid. With that same gingerness, Dew reaches below the belt for the first time for an exploratory pet. The response he gets is beautifully favorable, a stuttered gasp from Copia, pupils blown. "And if I said I was ticklish there, would you stay your hand?" 

"Saints, I love you when you get romantic like this." Dew says, Copia's fingers coming to rest along Dew's forearm. They regard each other for a long moment, Dew's hair curtaining down in the way that he's always been called beautiful for. He'd thought about shearing his hair after his transition, no longer yearning to feel his hair trail behind him while he swims, no longer feeling like anyone's preziosa sirenella. It was a joint effort from Aether and Copia that had kept it long, Aether meditatively brushing and plaiting the hair while Copia held him close and called him beautiful again, praised the fire in his eyes and the blaze in his bones.

"What you call romantic I simply call honest." One of Copia's hands traces a little trail up the inside of Dew's arm, along his chest to cup his cheek. He pushes up with the other hand, pulling Dew in to kiss him with a little more urgency, a little more breathlessly. He moans wantonly into the kiss, parting his lips to let Copia get even closer, to taste him more insistently. They eventually make their way to a reverse of before, Dew laid back on the pillows looking for all the world like a fallen angel. Sure, the horns and batlike wings don't fit the picture, but the amber eyes looking up through pale lashes seem for all the world like a creature spurned from grace.

His beauty turns to ecstacy when Copia litters his chest with little kisses and love bites, none too hard. Though he'd be hard pressed to bite harder than Swiss, especially considering his rather dull teeth in comparison. But right now Dew can't imagine anything feeling better than this, especially when soft lips brush over his piercings. His back arches into the contact, tail squirming and disturbing the duvet. He lets out a long, low, whined out Papa, which gets him a little hum against his heaving chest. Copia's clever fingers take an exploration down to where Dew's shaft has grown behind his loose joggers.

"Please?" Dew whines, hips jumping and earning him a low, husky laugh from Copia. 

"You don't have to beg, tizzone." Copia says gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Dew's pants. His eyebrows raise expectantly, and Dew scrambles to lift his hips enough to get the joggers off. Dew kicks the pants to the ground and paws hungrily at Copia's chest, pulling him into more kisses as the room floods with his cinnamon desire. He's already dripping slick all over the slim juncture of his thighs, squirming underneath the watchful gaze of his Papa. He is flayed open, raw and beating heart ripe for the taking by any predator who dared. And yet, he is not torn in two, and the soft curve of his chest is simply kissed over, leaving smudges of black paint. When Copia leaves his ministrations be, he looks more like a raccoon than normal, all the paint on his lips smudged off completely.

"You look like those, Saints, what does Mountie call them, the bloody trash pandas?" Dew says through a snorting laugh, appending his best true blue impression of Mountain. Copia rolls his eyes fondly and pushes back up onto his haunches, looking down at the ghoul spread out like a feast before him.

"If you're going to be mean I can leave." Copia earns playfully, getting his stern voice out that usually gets reserved for when they've destroyed a hotel room with some sexcapade that makes the bill fall on his shoulders. Notable examples include the scorched bed from when Dew was pinned down and made to cum over and over and over until his little body couldn't take the pressure and literally exploded into flames; the broken bed frame from when Rain begged Mountain for more more more harder please mountie please and the gentle giant had unleashed his powers to rend the particle board to dust as he finished deep in the hot clutch of Rain's body. The most recent incident was the room that looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off when Phantom had lost control of his powers and unleashed a supernova in a cheap hotel, but each of them was brushed under the rug by an understanding but mildly disappointed Copia.

"No! No, I'm sorry, you look nice." Dew reaches out shakily, gripping Copia's shoulders with a fervent whimper. Copia's shoulders slump slightly, and he rubs his thumb along the bird-light joint of Dew's wrist.

"I could never leave you, but I do think I should probably get my shoes off before we continue, eh?" He presses a kiss to the fluttering pulse of Dew's wrist and pulls back a couple steps off the bed to slip his dress shoes off, pulling his belt out of the loops. He hears Dew's throat click with a heavy swallow, and for a moment they share in the hunger for something harder, something that leaves Dew flushed and crying. They're no stranger to that kind of play; there's a very good reason why Copia has a plethora of different leather gloves, well worn by use and, well, too much cleaning. But the moment passes, fleeting as can be, when Copia bends down to unclip the garters from his socks. "Should I leave the pants to you?" He asks with a soft smile, just as Dew's crawling his way down the bed to pluck teasingly at Copia's zipper. 

"Maybe. I let you undress me." Dew grins up at Copia wolfishly, quick fingers dancing along pressed slacks until before Copia knows, his fly is undone and Dew is pawing at him. 

"Should I just fuck you like this?" He laughs, following the line of Dew's thin fingers to gently grip himself. "Boxers and all?"

"You can do it however you like, Papa, as long as you don't let me go." Dew breathes, flame-hot over the thin fabric separating his flushed mouth from sensitive flesh. Copia awkwardly shuffles everything down to a messy pile on the floor, the only real sign someone lives in the room that Dew's noticed since he crawled into bed. His cock springs up, a tempting little bead of pre welling up at the head. Dew grits his teeth in an effort to resist, but as if pulled by an invisible tether, he leans in to press an almost chaste kiss to the head.

"Now that's very dangerous of you, tizzone." Copia breathes as Dew returns to lounging on the pillows, waiting for Copia to chase him up. Nimble fingers dip down to splay open his slit, shimmering in the sun that still filters in the windows. Copia looses a punched groan and moves with a swiftness few people see from him, clambering across the bed to smother his ghoul in kisses once more.

"Need you in me, you know I'm ready for it." Dew juts his chin up proudly, grabbing Copia's hand and shoving it unceremoniously down to his slit. His wide eyes beg him to pet through the velvety folds, and then up to let the smooth, slick length of his shaft throb against his hand. Copia relents, of course he relents to the bid for touch, probing a couple thick fingers into Dew's entrance. He scissors his fingers gently, watching Dew's expression carefully. The fire ghoul's face screws up, but through the years they've been sleeping together, Copia has learned well the difference between pain and pleasure. Dew is firmly on the side of pleasure, at least until something shifts in his face, lip twitching.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Copia pulls his fingers out, and Dew scrubs at his face, taking a gulping breath and trying to calm his hummingbird heartbeat. He shakes his head, mouth trying to find words.

"It- you… for a second, you felt like…" Dew closes his eyes, trying to find some anchor in the sea of his feelings. "Aeth. I know it's stupid to think about—"

"No, no, Dew, it's not stupid. When do emotions run higher than this, more than when two become one?" Copia brings his clean hand up to cup Dew's cheek, pressing their foreheads together. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! No. Saints, no, I- I need this. Just need you." Dew throws his arms around the broadness of Copia's back, fingers splaying over the freckled expanse of skin. He clings tight, chest heaving until Copia presses a warm palm to his sternum. They don't say anything, they just breathe in tandem until Copia's even breathing is the rhythm they both follow. Dew nods, and Copia knows what he's ready for without words. They've really never needed words, able to read each other with the smallest twitch of an eye or the quirk of a lip. So it's no surprise to Copia that when he latches his lips to Dew's hot pulse and sinks his fingers back into the warmth of Dew's slit that the little ghoul howls in pleasure, hips jumping erratically.

Copia suckles a dark bite into the pale gray of his Dewdrop, purple blooming to the surface prettily as he opens Dew up. He doesn't need Copia's fingers scissoring him open, not by a long shot, but he'd be remiss if he didn't get his hands dirty in the pursuit of pleasuring Dew. Copia curls his fingers just so, and Dew shouts in ecstacy, shaft throbbing dully as more slick leaks out over his soft stomach.

"Please, please Papa, I don't want to wait anymore." He lays the piety on thick, which seems a little bold for a ghoul who snuck out of Mass. Copia forgives the indulgence, though, and lines himself up to tease the head of his cock along slick folds. "No, no no no nonono, don't tease, please." Dew sobs out. He seems so shattered already, Copia can't help but sink into him, mouth tucked into the angles of his throat to feel his pleasured noises.

"See, I can be kind." Copia mumbles, mouth a little occupied with absolutely ruining Dew with kisses and bruises. Dew yelps as Copia sinks home, hips kissing for a brief second before he pulls almost all the way out.

"Not that kind, apparently." Dew grumbles, jerking up to try and fuck himself on the unmoving cock. Copia lets him try it for a little bit, a faint amused smile playing on his lips. It doesn't last long until the heat beckons, that velvet inferno, and Copia sinks in again with a low groan. Dew's little wings flex against the sheets, claws barely resisting sinking into Copia to pull him impossibly close. He doesn't need the prodding, though, because he picks up a neat little pace. It's not as hard or fervent as it will grow to be, but for now it's just what both of them need. They move together with the gentle push and pull of the ocean, and it reminds Dew of endless quiet moments on the bus, smothering moans in the plush flesh of his lover as they rock with the movement of the bus.

It threatens to ruin Dew's mood, but he forces his mind to think of the ones he's shared that experience with who are still here. Chief among them is of course the man between his legs now, but he feels a different little thrill thinking about Swiss swallowing Dew's noises by clamping a big hand over his mouth, or Cumulus promising to treat him so well if he can stay quiet all on his own. That brings him back from the brink of absolute collapse, to say nothing of the reality of Copia dragging him into a slow, messy kiss. 

Dew slides a hand down in between the both of them to tug at his shaft, but his hand is batted away by Copia. He whimpers at the loss, but Copia picks up the slack immediately. "Just let me take care of you." He murmurs by way of explanation, gently squeezing the slick length of Dew's shaft. His barbs leak all over Copia's fingers, making the glide of skin on skin all but frictionless. It's not the only trait he retained from his previous element, but it was probably the least upsetting. He never needed much foreplay, though he enjoyed it thoroughly, and it definitely made him the pack's favorite choice for a quickie. His hands almost instinctively slide up above his head, ready to be pinned by a large hand. It was one of Mountain's favorite moves, to make him feel impossibly small, but Copia doesn't make the move.

So instead, Dew opts to keep his hands locked tight around the bars of the headboard, thin fingers twining around carved mahogany. Copia groans at the sight when he flicks up his mismatched eyes, focusing back on ruining Dew's chest with love bites. If he thinks too hard about the unfailing obedience that Dew offers him, this endeavor ends far too soon. Then again, compared to the infernal endurance of his ghouls, he's a minute man by comparison, so frankly he's just got to try his best.

"I love you." Dew blurts out randomly, voice thick with pleasure and barely held back tears. Copia's hips stutter for a moment before he looks up to see that the tears are of ecstacy, as far as he can tell. He blinks once, and the fat tears fall from his lashes and race down the hollow of his throat to leave wet spots on the pillow. In response to the love, Copia adjusts himself and pulls Dew's slim legs around his waist, locking them together eternally.

"I love you, Dewdrop, Father Below, do I love you." His hand leaves Dew's shaft for just a millisecond to make sure Dew's legs are locked tight. It returns in due time, bringing with it increased fervor and a lump in his throat that Copia wasn't expecting. He's never been stoic, Saints no, but not nearly as much of a crier as his sweet Dewdrop. There's something in the air today, then that has him choked up. So be it. If his body needs that release, he won't deny himself.

"Don't leave. Please, please don't leave me alone, please stay, Copia please, I can't live without you, I can't lose you." The steady stream of tears turns to wet sobs, and Dew's hands fly from the headboard to cling desperately to Copia and pull him impossibly closer. Their bodies are all but one as their hips meet over and over. Something in the desperate cries makes the fragile dam inside Copia break, and when he screws up his face when Dew flutters, he feels the hot slide of tears down his own cheeks.

"I could never, tizzone. I can't bear to lose another person. I can't hurt you." His voice shakes, and he'd love to pretend that it's because of all the sensations swallowing him, the sweet honey heat of his Dew. But it's a disservice, he thinks, to pretend himself incapable of tears. What then, of the grief he'd experienced, of all the loss of family and love alike? Here, in the sanctuary of his room, he has no obligation to be His Unholiness, Papa Emeritus IV, a stoic figurehead to lead and protect his flock. He can just be, ever so simply, Copia. A man, with vulnerabilities just like everyone else. He swallows heavily, and Dew leans up to kiss his tears away. They're both just sort of crying on each other, wet cheeks pressed together. 

They press even closer to each other, chest to chest as Copia's hips speed up. His hand squeezes the forming knot at the base of Dew's shaft, interrupting the tears with a yelp of pleasure.

"Oh, oh fuck, harder, please, can you- harder?" Dew asks, voice trembling. He never asks this politely, and combined with the throb of his shaft, Copia realizes he's not the only minute man here. The pace slows down in service of more brutal thrusts, getting punched little groans from the both of them as the bed creaks with protest. His hand makes choppy little strokes along Dew's shaft, lack of rhythm unbecoming of a practiced musician. Dew doesn't seem to mind, head tossing back and forth and making his silken hair into a mussed tangle despite the inelegance of Copia's thrusts. Right about when Copia expects, his thighs and hips start to burn in protest. It's for the best that he thinks about bringing things to a crescendo.

It's definitely not a premature end; Dew's slit is pulsing heavily around Copia which always signals that he's about to burst. The little hiccups each time he fucks a little deeper into Dew's hot body are a sure sign that it's time to try his dirtiest trick. Well, 'dirty' implies that he's on equal sexual footing with the very emissaries of Hell's lust, so it's more that he's a very clever lover. He swipes both his hands under Dew's ass, trusting his knees for all of two seconds to bear the weight of him while he adjusts to fuck up into the spot that makes Dew howl. And howl he does, one hand clawing deeply at Copia's shoulder without breaking skin. The other rends the pillow under his head to downy shreds, fine duck feathers exploding into the room and clinging to Dew's sweaty shoulders.

"Aaah, yes, yes, Copia please, please I'm right there, touch me touch me please please, Unholy Father, I need to cum!" Dew sobs wetly, bringing a feathered hand up to scrub the tears away so he can beg with the full power of his alluring amber eyes. He doesn't need to beg; he never needed to ask. But it seems ingrained in him to ask permission, so Copia gives him a little grunt of affirmation. That's apparently the key to get the levee to burst, because Dew spills all over his stomach and chest with a wail. Iridescent cum coats his piercings, glittering in the dappled light of the window. The fluttering of Dew's silken walls around him means Copia is barely moments behind, spilling into Dew and screwing up his face. 

The ecstacy brings the tears back in full force, a sick combination of pain and pleasure. His chest constricts as if squeezed from within, and he finally looses a proper sob. Copia wipes at his eye, coming back with a smeared blob of paint staining his fingers, and it's quite belatedly he realizes that he probably looks absolutely haggard. He can't be fucked to care, honestly, especially as he pulls out and lowers Dew back down to the bed, watching as his chest heaves. Dew's cum barely starts to dry, hardly gets the chance before Copia leans down to clean him up with that silvered tongue. He laps broadly, swiping up slick and cum in equal measure as Dew sobs quietly into the back of his hand. Copia keeps his kisses featherlight, his tongue as restrained as he dares. If he catches a couple of his own tears in his ministrations, so be it.

"Saints, I could worship you forever. You are so dear, so unholy to me." Copia breathes against Dew's damp skin, ears tuned to the stuttered hiccup at the reversal. Dew had caught the attention of many a man (and woman) of the cloth, and yet none of them had found him worthy of worship. Only Copia truly viewed him as not only equal, but superior. Dew did his fair share of devotion in the bedroom, but he was used to being on his knees in more ways than one.

"Don't deserve it." Dew whimpers, though his hands tell a different story when they sink into Copia's hair. "I don't- I'm not beautiful anymore, not like I used to be. Too much blood." His hands twitch on Copia's scalp, and for a brief moment all Copia can think of is the moment Dew stumbled on him in a puddle of ichor, of Aether's— No. No. Not now. Not when he's dragging down lower, sensitive cock brushing against silky sheets when he settles in between Dew's legs. Copia's spend leaks wetly from Dew, little pulses of his orgasmic afterglow pushing a new wave of slick and cum out of him. He watches for a couple seconds, pleasure-dazed until he remembers his purpose, hands coming up to stroke gently at the thin plane of Dew's thighs. Gentle fingertips stroke at the fine hair on his legs, feeling the muscles twitch uncertainly as Dew awaits whatever comes next.

What comes next is a supernova of overstimulation, Copia's tongue licking broadly between dusky folds. He's so pretty and dark down here, like a rare flower with midnight petals. 

"Fuck, hurts. Hurts good." Dew bleats, taking a fistful of Copia's hair in his hand as he's cleaned out with gentle licks. "Please don't stop. Might go again." Copia groans into slick flesh, the idea that he could bring Dew to even the littlest orgasm down here stirring heat right back up in his gut. So he sets himself to the task, bringing a single firm finger up to prod tenderly. It's under the guise of making sure Dew is cleaned up properly, but it's really to pet at his soft walls and feel him flutter with each lick. Before he knows it, Dew is clamping his thighs tight and squealing, body forcing every last drop out of him and onto Copia's tongue. Dew doesn't have to push him away when he's had too much, because Copia knows him intimately, knows just when to draw his finger out in the aftershocks.

Dew's face is blotchy, all different shades of plum and tyrian purple, and the patchwork only continues down his neck and chest. His face is still wet with tears, though they've dried down to a velvet sheen on his soft cheek. Copia kisses the inside of his knee, murmuring softly that he'll be right back, he's just going to grab something to clean them both off. Dew assumes he's going for the ensuite, and he paws at Copia with a yelp, but he only moves to the other bedside table to flip open a vintage cigar box. Inside is not cigars, but a pastel little packet of baby wipes, all hidden away to keep the impeccable aesthetic of his room in order. Dew watches curiously before he lets out a watery laugh that turns a little teary, making more feathers from the destroyed pillow stick to him.

"Oh, shit, the- Papa, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—" Copia waves a hand and beckons Dew off the ruined pillow. He goes uncertainly, relaxing into the touch as Copia wipes him down, leaving him smelling faintly of honey and almond.

"It's a pillow, I can get another. I'll forgive you if you tell me what's so funny." His mouth settles into a lazy smile as he discards the wipe to grab another and slip it down between Dew's legs. The little ghoul hisses at the cold between his warm legs, but he does as his Papa asks.

"Just the," he waves his hand at the cigar box, "I don't know. Such a silly little thing hidden away in a mature shell. It's very you. And I love that. Practical and not too serious and-" Dew shudders as his sensitive shaft retreats, brushing against the cool wipe. "Hells, that's cold."

"I would be loathe to invest in a wipe warmer." Copia explains mildly, with the not so subtle implication Dew was being a bit of a baby about the cold. "Rain loves it, says he gets too hot and sticky." Dew opens his mouth to protest, but clacks it shut with a snap of his jaws, brow furrowing.

"Well. I'm not much like him anymore, am I?" He says quietly, eyes sparking like when he loses control of his element. Copia watches him carefully, fingers stopped in their work to ensure he doesn't obliterate the bed. The fire dies down completely, quenched by the tears that bubble up and fall with a scary speed. "Not much of anything, really." He hiccups, and it's the comedown Copia was really expecting. He's never escaped a teary romp in the sheets without lengthy aftercare, and likely some of the world's worst pillow talk by normal standards. 

"No, no. You're everything. I knew you were beautiful from the moment I saw you." Copia soothes, tossing the soiled wipes into the wastebin that's there for just that purpose. He hesitates for a moment, wondering if it's worth the effort to clean up his paint. But he eventually perishes the thought, considering that Dew is grasping up at him with pitiful paws. So he looks like a rat left out in the rain, so what? He sits back down on the bed, shunting Dew into his lap and gently picking every stray feather off of his damp skin. Every fourth feather or so, he brushes Dew's cheeks of the tears that incessantly fall, granting him reprieve best he can. "It's alright. I knew this was coming for a long time, dolcezza." 

"What- what do you mean?" Dew looks up blearily from behind his tears, eyes now dulled to the color of stale coals. Copia tuts gently, flexing slightly so that his foot doesn't go fully numb with the pressure of the little head on his thigh.

"You were withdrawn since Brisbane. Barely spoke for weeks, all you did was hold my hand on the plane." His voice is gentle, all the patience of a teacher, a leader, a pastor. All the things he's been to Dew and more, his anchor in the storm. "I've seen this mood on you before, Dewdrop. I know how you get when the.." He waves his hand, looking for the words, "melancholy takes a hold of you." He's probably looking for depression, but he's got a poet's soul. Sue him. "Mountain came to me a little while ago, asked if you had been more forthcoming with me about how you were doing. Your pack is worried about you, myself included." 

"I wish he wouldn't." Dew grumbles, wiping at his face. He's mostly free of feathers, so Copia's moved to gently detangling his hair and picking out the down he finds stuck there. "I just.. I wish they'd leave me alone."

"You know they won't. When I saw you leave Mass I.. to be honest I almost stopped the whole affair to chase you." He'd been in the middle of Desecration, holding His Infernal Body aloft when he saw Dew excuse himself and slip out along the shadowed corridors, votive candles burning a little brighter as he passed. It'd formed a lump in his throat that hadn't gone away till he'd been able to shed his robes, leaving them in a pile for the poor sacristy ghouls to deal with. "I was glad to find you here, instead of.." He trails off with a shaky breath, the implication hanging as a sword of Damocles above them.

Dew closes his eyes tight, forcing tears down his mottled cheeks. He balls his fists, and it's like he's trying to squeeze all the anxiety and pain and doubt out of his little body. He relaxes with a slump, laying heavier on Copia's lap. Alabaster horns prick at Copia's thigh, and he sinks his fingers into Dew's very scalp to massage around the base of his horns. Sometimes that touch is arousing, but right now it's just soothing, though it does little to stop the tears.

"What's keeping you away from us, little flame?" Copia murmurs, trailing his fingers down to press his middle fingers into the little spot at the hinge of Dew's jaw on either side. So much tension is carried here, not to mention the spot where his pheromones burn the strongest, and when Copia massages the whole room floods with warm tobacco and teak. 

"I.." Dew breathes in and out once, chest trembling, "I'm terrified that when you go, I won't feel it. That I won't know." The confession seems to shatter something in him, and he crumples up his face like the words struck him. "And I thought maybe if I could pull away it wouldn't hurt so bad, wouldn't kill me when everyone dies again and again and again. But maybe not knowing is worse." One of Copia's hands presses on Dew's sternum, helping to regulate his breathing. The other travels back up to scratch softly at his scalp. "I still message Aether." Dew continues, "I have for months. I don't know what I'm doing without him, it's like.. I don't know. I've lost packmates before, so many of them, but I never thought I'd lose him."

"I know. Saints, do I know." Copia strokes his thumb along Dew's feverish skin, scooping a hand underneath his head to deposit him gently on the bed. Dew whimpers, hands reaching up for Copia piteously. "I'm not going far, dolce." He gently makes his way over to the desk, sliding open a drawer and pulling a bundle of tied together letters out of the very back. They're all different sizes, some as thin as a single sheet, some clearly stuffed full with multiple pages, and as Copia brings the stack back, Dew spots the name on every single one of them in elegant script. Aether. "It's a little more old fashioned, but.. I write to him. Not on a schedule, just.. when I find myself thinking of him. And I tuck them away, and I," He sighs, a shaky little noise that has Dew finally sitting up and cocking his head, eyes searching Copia's face. "When I can go long enough without remembering that.. that damnable pool of ichor, I'll burn them for him. In the summoning room, and I'll hope that he gets to read them."

Dew takes the stack of letters gently, noting a faint herbal scent when his hands warm the papers. They're all on fine paper, thick and rich and sealed with wax bearing the symbol of the church, carefully embellished in gold by a gentle hand. He brings one of the letters to his nose, but he can't for the life of him identify the herb. Mountain probably could, but he doesn't really spend enough time in the garden. Anymore.

"Rosemary. For remembrance, and because he always used to love that lamb roast Mountain would cook up for Ostara, which Mount always claimed was traditional hell cuisine and I'm just now doubting the veracity of that," Copia laughs fondly, a small, sad little noise. "There's a sprig in every letter for him. I learned that magic a very very long time ago, at that boy's school, Saint Amduscias'." Copia takes the letters back and tucks them into the desk again, fingers lingering briefly on the lacquered wood.

"How often do you think of it?" Dew asks, eyes searching the expanse of Copia's back, noting each freckle for the hundredth time. He knows asking the question is like poking at a sore tooth for the sick satisfaction of it, but there is a perverse pleasure that leaves the ache a little duller each time he talks about it.

"Those letters? They're all from this last leg of tour. And I have more I haven't unpacked." Copia turns, always so beautifully unashamed in his nakedness. It was a shame that humans got so touchy about their bodies, considering how wonderful and unique they all are. Dew's always been grateful that Copia never seemed to be in a rush to cover up after sex if he didn't strictly have to. "How can I not think of it? I can't.. I don't know that I'll ever forget fully. I knew Ministry staff were to be there that day, but I never thought.. well, I knew the rumors. I'd heard things, here and there but they were my first replacements." The words drips off his tongue as if it were acid, vile and burning.

"I can't stop thinking about feeling it before I saw it." Dew comes over and swings his legs off the bed, leaning back and looking up at the one who's charmed his heart over and over again, and will probably do so till both of them are in the ground. "I'd seen some important looking people around but, I mean. You know how I am with authority, I just ignored it."

Copia pushes off the desk and settles his body in between Dew's slim knees, until Dew is craning his neck to make eye contact. "What did it feel like? You never told me." Dew's heart skips a beat so loudly it feels like it reverberates around the room.

"Like a star collapsing in on itself. Like a heart attack, from what I've been told it feels like." He swallows thickly around the lump of tears in his throat. He feels like a wrung out rag, like blood squeezed from the stone. There's probably more tears in his body, but Hell Below, he just wishes they'd stay there. "Like being stabbed and then the knife slides out slowly, like the person doing the stabbing enjoys it. Like losing a limb." Dew gets quiet, and he rests a hand over his heart, scars from former fins shimmering down his arm. Copia bends down and presses his forehead against Dew's, a Ghoulish kiss Dew first taught him by accident. The fire ghoul had just done it, and Copia played along, until Dew realized the poor Cardinal had no idea what he'd been doing.

"I'll do anything I can to make sure you never feel that again." He murmurs, and Dew sighs, a dismissive tone to the noise.

"You know you can't promise that." Dew says shakily, and Copia bumps his nose against Dew's a soft little movement that makes Dew's chest constrict.

"No, not entirely. But I mean it. I'd do what I could." They fall into a silence then, breathing in each other's air, enjoying each other's space. The arrhythmic rasp of a starling sings through the window, a discordant soundtrack with the backing beat of their hearts as accompaniment. Dew pulls back eventually, nosing at Copia's jaw to get his attention.

"Do you want to go see him?" Aether has a sort of grave, a shrine really. They weren't allowed to keep his body; the Ministry had taken it as some sort of grotesque currency for Phantom's summoning, but they had other things. The mask Terzo had given him, and the first one Copia gave. A broken little shard of horn from early on, when he literally butted heads with Omega and snapped it off. His beloved bracelet, which Ivy had gifted him, shaped by their own hand from scrap guitar strings. The first Fantomen he'd gotten, all those years ago. Phantom was given a new one, apparently not too dear a price from the Ministry for their newest summon. Gifts from fans, piles and piles of them, carefully kept safe in a plexiglass case. He'd kept almost everything he'd been given; if he could fit it into a nook or cranny of a gear box or a bunk, he would. Dew had found some little trinket tucked into his guitar case when he opened it up for the first time to prep for tour, and it's been on his bedside table ever since. It's all lovingly ensconced in an explosion of flowers that Mountain maintains like a soul-bound duty, heliotrope and lavender and aster and stargazer lilies, each one beautiful and perfect.

"I think that would be nice. I haven't been since we got back. The lilies should be blooming, and I think Mountain will forgive me if I take one for myself." Copia muses, wondering if he can find some little bud vase that he can get Rain and Mountain to jointly enchant to have a perpetual flower on his desk.

"Oh, you know those things make me sick whenever you handle them too much." Dew grumbles, but it's playful, light, and the beat of his tail on the bed says as much.

"Ah, so I shouldn't wear my gloves to pick one? Wouldn't want those dreadful lilies near your, eh, most sensitive parts." Copia gets a wicked little smile, and Dew pushes him away with a groan, flopping back to the bed and watching as a couple of feathers float up from it.

"You're so lucky I love you."

"I am."

[dgaftilwedie]

You should tell me about your ghoul oc................

WHAT'S THIS??? AN OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABOUT MY LITTLE GHOUL?????? EEEEESOIJFSJDKJFSKDF

ok so!! their name is inferno, and (as you can probably tell by their name) they're a fire ghoul :3 they're fem-presenting but use neutral pronouns, and they're dewdrop's... pupil?? of sorts?? copia summoned them before the reimperatour, after the Bloody Guitar incident just in the off chance something like that happens again and dew isn't able to keep playing. on stage, dew lets them practice their solos, but most of the time, they're off to the back harassing rain or singing background vocals with the ghoulettes and swiss. they were also summoned at the same time as aurora and phantom, so they're all very close!! (but with nameless ghouls, they're all basically attached at the hip so...)

inferno is a very loud individual, both literally and metaphorically. they're very bold, easily excitable, and talkative. they're constantly full of energy and enthusiastic to do anything and everything. that doesn't come without some downfalls though... they're very overly-emotional and one "bad" interaction can quickly send them spiralling. when they get into moods, they hide away in their room for days on end, and they can be a little hard to work with because of this. they also have the tendency to be a LOT to handle, which they know, and they hate that their actions can be seen as annoying when they're just trying to be themself. aside from that, they're a really fun ghoul to be around!!

below the cut is just me talking about their relationships with the other ghouls off stage :3 if you want me to talk about the on stage relationships, i will GLADLY do that too HEHEHEHEHE

dew:  when copia first announced that dew was going to have an understudy, everyone was very nervous about his reaction. he's very headstrong and independent, so most people thought he was either going to hate his pupil or be a bad teacher to them. this could not be farther from the case!! dew was surprisingly very excited (which he masked under his typical "ugh... whatever" attitude). seeing as how inferno is dew’s understudy, the two of them are very attached to each other. they often stay a lot later than everyone else during practice, rehearsing different parts (usually because inferno begged him to teach them their favorite solos and dew obliges every time). inferno reminds dew a lot of himself when he first became a fire ghoul - he remembers how much of a mentor ifrit was to him, and he's trying to be even better of a mentor to inferno. they're spicy and annoying and bold, just like him, and he loves it.

rain: practically inseparable. they compliment each other in a bunch of different ways. inferno is loud, easily-excitable, and very jumpy; rain is usually quieter, collected, and more reserved. inferno helps to get rain going, and he eagerly plays into their enthusiasm. they’re very much attached at the hip, even more so than inferno and dew. cuddling, hugging, falling asleep in a pile on the den couch, etc. they're never not with each other. inferno is very clingy, and so is rain, so neither of them have an issue with this arrangement. inferno is still learning how to utilize their ghoul-magic and they often mess around with rain by poking his neck with their fire. it scares the shit out of him, but he's gotten used to it, and he splashes water at inferno to get back at them. he's also one of the only ghouls who inferno will go to with their problems, swiss and mountain being the other two. they feel too obligated to appear Super Cool and Strong to dew and cirrus, they don't wanna burden cumulus, and they don't want aurora and phantom to think less of them for being the way they are. (of course, they'd all listen if inferno wanted them to, but they're terrified)

phantom:  inferno was summoned around the same time as phantom, so they’re already pretty close. you’ve also seen how quintessence ghouls and fire ghouls act with each other... the two of them act a lot like dew and aether. they practice their parts together, throw pics at each other, and they’re generally very playful with each other. they also both have a biting problem?? phantom will be minding his own business and inferno will come up from behind him and sink their teeth into his neck. phantom does the same in return. literally both of them are covered in each other's bitemarks and they both think it's hilarious.

aurora:  like phantom, the two of them were summoned at the same time, so again, inherent closeness. the two of them are VERY gossipy with each other. they're often spotted around the ministry, giggling and whispering to each other in darkened corners. since they're usually on stage together, they practice little bits off stage to spice things up, which usually ends up in them being a tangled mess of bodies and instruments on the floor of the practice room. aurora also has really, really long hair and it's super soft and inferno often insists on styling it for her.

mountain:  they adjusted to each other very easily. similar to rain, mountain is much quieter than inferno is, but he appreciates their enthusiastic personality. inferno knows they can be a lot to handle but mountain is a naturally calming presence to them, so they're a lot more toned-down around him. mountain's sorta like a large teddy bear to them, probably because they have a massive height difference (which both of them thoroughly enjoy). mountain has taken to nicknaming inferno “fern” because he thinks it’s cute (he’s the only one allowed to call them that). the two of them often have little "dates" as inferno has taken to calling them; the two of them will sit in the ministry's garden and smoke some of mount's special stash as the sun rises before falling asleep in the grass. sister imperator has gotten on their cases for doing this on nights before big clergy meetings that both of them ended up missing.

cirrus: inferno looks up to cirrus a ridiculous amount. like, they treat her like a celebrity. they're in complete awe of her and cirrus thinks it's adorable. she definitely teases them about it. she's gotten into the habit of hugging inferno from behind just to get them all melty in her arms. plus, they're a fire ghoul, so they're naturally very warm, which cirrus loves. the pair also bond over instruments--who knew that keytars and guitars could be so similar, yet so very different...

swiss: when inferno was first summoned, swiss was the ghoul that intimidated them the most. he wasn’t the tallest or the strongest, but he was certainly the scariest. he had an evil glint in his eyes the sent a shiver down inferno’s spine. of course, that didn’t last very long. he’d give them occasional pointers on their guitar (and really good hugs) (and the ghape, sorry not sorry) and inferno opened up to him pretty quickly after that. they pick on each other a lot, but swiss always welcomes them with open arms if they're having a rough time.

cumulus: inferno has a very similar relationship to cumulus that they do with swiss... except for the fact that cumulus didn't scare the shit out of them when they first met. inferno thinks she's absolutely adorable, constantly flooding her with compliments and practically begging to watch her play the piano. the two of them spend a lot of time learning duets to perform for the other ghouls and ghoulettes; they have very different vocal ranges, cumulus's being much higher and inferno's being much lower, so it's an interesting contrast to hear. but they both think it's super fun!! also, ghoulette slumber parties... cumulus dubbed inferno an "honorary ghoulette" so they're invited the all of the slumber parties and girl's night activities that cirrus, aurora, and cumulus get up to :3 (they appreciate being included more than anyone realizes)

[pro-memoriia]

Favorite thing about each ghoul? (Doesn’t have to be EVERY ghoul you can pick whoever or a certain era whatever you want)

AUGH okay!! Here we go. This is just Re-Imperatour ghouls + ghoulettes. Fair warning though, it's kind of a lot.

My favorite thing about Rain is probably his body and how he moves it. I KNOW that sounds awful at first, but let me explain! He's very expressive and I feel like he really corresponds with his element through his physical action. He can be smooth and swift, but also a bit rough or aggressive, just like water. So not only does his body look amazing, but it moves so wonderfully. He's alluring and ethereal and it shows with the way he moves. Even despite being clumsy and tripping sometimes... (I'm sorry if I worded this terribly, I'm not good at explaining my thoughts.)

My favorite thing about Swiss is his confidence. He's so good, and he fucking knows it. He shows it off so well, like a siren or a succubus. He moves his body so sensually and freely. The thing is, without confidence, it would just look rough. You'd look at his actions and question it. But he has no hesitation, no unsure-ness, nothing to hold him back. He's free and confident, open to all, which I just think is amazing.

My favorite thing about Mountain is probably his control over his own body. As someone who grew up with people who screamed or threw things or hit whenever they were upset or excited, I find it amazing how someone can keep their body level to their mind. Mountain knows his intentions. He knows he should hit his drums hard but keep his touch soft when handling one of the ghouls/ghoulettes. He can be so rough and aggressive with his playing and then have the sweetest touch on someone's shoulder just seconds later. Maybe it's bare minimum, but like I said, it's just crazy to me since I grew up with such... Openly emotional people.

My favorite thing about Dewdrop is his attitude towards those he's close with. He has a fiery personality, he's a spitfire, and he's got a fairly short temper. But when it comes to certain ghouls, like Rain or Aether, you can tell he has a softer spot. He's still got spunk and might flip a middle finger, but it's so obvious that he really does care for them and would never genuinely hurt them. I just think it's sweet.

My favorite thing about Phantom is his extroverted and social personality. Right from the start, he was almost like an eager dog. He was quick to start showing off and doing cool tricks and stuff. He was quick to grow an amazing stage presence with his bandmates. He was quick to know the name given to him by fans. He was just so out there and had a seemingly very positive attitude from what I could tell, and I love that.

My favorite thing about Cirrus is her stage presence. She knows she's cool, she knows she's pretty, she knows she's loved (ESPECIALLY by some girls *cough*me*cough). And not only that, she's not afraid to have fun. She dances with the others, dances with herself, keeps herself entertained (and fans, as a result), etc. She knows herself and she knows what she's doing because she's got it all under control! Even if her keytar sounds off, she's okay because she knows how to play things off and stay calm and confident.

My favorite thing about Cumulus is how fucking sweet she is!! I love seeing her up there with the ghoulettes especially. Caressing them and holding their hands and smiling at them. It's so cute. And at the end of rituals when they're all going around and stuff, she's got flowers and she's blowing kisses and stuff. I guess they all kinda do that but with Cumulus, it's just different for some reason.

My favorite thing about Aurora is that she's a fucking princess, to say the least. She's very elegant and pretty and swift. She's just satisfying to watch. Her voice, her dancing, her attitude, everything from her stomping boots to those perfectly manicured nails. She's just nice to look at because she's so perfect.