The World Needs More Terzo Smoking Weed !!! 🤠

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦: 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘈𝘪𝘥

Rating: T Pairing: Raindrop Word Count: 1.2k Murder Ghouls Ahead! (No actual murder, just the aftermath)

Mushy May brought to you by @forlorn-crows Divider by @ghuleh-recs

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. 

Rain sits back against the shower wall. Knees drawn up to his chest. Blood swirling down the drain. Not much. Most of it not even his. But it's enough. Enough that he feels the sting, worse is the bite of shame. Embarrassment. He should be better than this. He is better than this. It’s not like it’s his first hunt or anything. Not like he doesn’t know how to do this–hasn’t done it a thousand times. 

He isn’t sure what went wrong. 

His arm stings. He refocuses his gaze to watch blood leak from it. It’s not that bad–he’s had worse. Nothing like hunting in the pit. But it’s still a nasty gash down the the outer edge of his forearm. It’s still bleeding. It still hurts. 

There’s a sharp knock on his bathroom door. Rain flinches. Ignores it. He doesn’t understand why no one in this place understands what a locked door means. 

“Rain.” 

It’s Dew, voice sharp. Tipping up with worry. Rain wonders if he saw the mess he left by the late–too in shock to even finish his meal or dispose of it properly. Sloppy. He tucks his head into the circle of his arms. He had a knife. Since when do siblings carry knives? Maybe if Rain keeps ignoring him, Dew will go away. 

He knows better, of course. But he can hope. 

“Rain I know you’re in there.” 

Rain sighs. “I’m fine.”

“C’mon.” 

It isn’t like the door is the thing stopping Dew. He already picked the lock on Rain’s bedroom. And he hadn’t thought to lock the bathroom door too. He appreciates Dew giving him this space, but he also knows he isn’t going to be able to get rid of him. Dew can definitely smell the blood–the shame–the disaster wafting through the door.  

“It’s not my blood,” Rain answers. 

The door cracks open and Rain buries his head deeper into the circle of his arms, curls up tighter. Pressed into the corner of the shower like he can disappear. Then Dew’s there. Stepping into the cool spray, fully clothed. Rain hears the hiss of the water as it hits him, evaporates. The hand Dew lays on Rain’s arm is hot. 

Rain looks up at him. He doesn’t know what Dew sees in his face–but whatever it is makes the fire ghoul blanch. He watches as Dew gnaws on his lip with a crooked fang. The sight of Rain pulls at his features. Like he’s warring with relief that Rain is alright, and worry that maybe he actually isn’t. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

“Not much to tell. I picked wrong.” 

It happens sometimes. Some humans appear weaker than they are. They fight back. They scratch and claw and kick and scream. Rain, and every other ghoul who hunts, has learned to accept that–expect it even. But not knives. Not knives in the hands of people who know how to use him. 

“Did they survive?” 

Rain shakes his head. 

“Then you didn’t pick wrong.” 

There’s no denying the little flashes of anger in Dew’s voice. Not at Rain–he knows that. At whoever hurt him. Dew probably wished Rain hadn’t killed him–just so he could have had the chance to do it himself. 

“Come on, let’s get you up. The water’s cold.” 

“I like the water cold.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t.” Dew pulls on him with surprisingly strength and Rain lets himself be uncoiled. Dew doesn’t stop until Rain’s standing, looking down at the fire ghoul. Water dripping from Rain’s curls onto Dew’s upturned face. 

Dew presses a soft kiss to the space over Rain’s heart. “You’re fine.” 

Rain nods. “I told you that.” 

“I know. Still had to see it for myself. And you’re still beating yourself up about it. Shit happens.” 

“He had a knife.” 

“He doesn’t have anything anymore.” Dew laces his fingers with Rain’s and reaches around him to turn off the shower. The silence that falls after feels oppressive. Rain winces. Dew frowns just a little, the corners of that delicate mouth pulling down and despite the ache, and the shame, Rain wants to smooth those worry lines away. 

“You don’t have to do any of this,” Rain says softly. Dew reaches up to tuck a drenched curl behind Rain’s ear. Rain chooses to believe he’s doing it to stop the steady stream of icy water from dripping on his cheek. 

“I want to do this. You should have come to me.” 

Rain shrugs. “Why? It’s a scratch.” 

“A lot more than a scratch,” Dew mumbles as he inspects Rain’s arm, pressing gentle fingers to swollen sides. It’s a clean cut–a sharp knife. Deep but not too bad. Not bleeding anymore. A human would need stitches, but Rain isn’t human. “You were embarrassed.” 

Rain grimaces, thinks about lying. He keeps so many people at arm's distance–it’s easier. He’s used to being alone. He spent so much time alone in the pit. But as hard as he tries to hold Dew at a distance, he can’t. Dew doesn’t let him–Rain doesn’t even really want to. Dew’s under his skin, and Rain likes him there. 

“I don’t like fucking up.” 

Dew clicks his tongue. “You didn’t fuck up. Shit happens. Let me fix it.” 

Rain allows himself to be pulled from the shower. Dew points to the closed toilet seat and Rain sits and watches do crouch down to dig into the vanity under the sink, looking for the first aid kit. Dew’s clothes are damp–the heat of him not able to protect him from all of the water. Rain hopes that after this he can get Dew out of them–that they can curl up together in bed and watch something stupid on TV and Rain can forget about everything except the way Dew’s skin feels against his. 

He’s pulled out of his reverie by a sharp sting along the cut in his arm. Dew, cleaning it with one fo those strongly scented alcohol pads that always make Rain’s head hurt. He crinkles his nose up. 

“Sorry, it’s just for a second.”

“Stinks.” “Only you would complain about the smell instead of the pain.” Dew rolls his eyes but there’s a smile there, that worried frown finally disappearing. 

“It’s gross.” 

Dew chuckles as he slathers some cream over the cut–this thankfully doesn’t smell like anything. “Don’t want you drying out, Fishy.” 

That finally makes Rain smile. He dips his head, grinning, heat flaring through his chest–adoration more than anything else. Dew catches him looking away–catches the soft violet color rising to his cheeks. 

“There you are,” he whispers. Using the hand that isn’t covered in lotion to tip Rain’s chin up so they can look at each other.  Dew dips down to kiss him, soft, chaste.  

“Here I am,” Rain whispers, nodding. 

Dew finishes the rest with deft fingers. Pressing a pad into the wound and wrapping tight gauze around it. He pats Rain’s arm lightly when he’s done, satisfied with his work. Then his face goes sober again, serious. It’s Rain’s turn to worry his lip between his teeth. 

“Don’t scare me like that again,” Dew says, pressing his forehead into Rain’s. “Promise me.” 

He doesn’t answer, he just kisses Dew again. A little longer, a little sweater. An apology. Rain can’t promise him–all he knows how to do is run away. But it’s ok–because he knows Dew will always follow, will always find  him. Will always fix him. 

Shrimp and cheese tortellini...Not me practicing my meager cooking skills for when The Handmaid's Tale becames a reality. I'd rather be a Martha as I'm too old for babies.

Mushy May, Day 5 (Animals) - Menagerie of the Damned

Inspired by Mushy May prompts by the fab @forlorn-crows. I'm a day late with this one but I'm a good Satanist and never follow the rules anyway...Also on my Ao3!

If you've ever been told it's "just a pet", Papa Primo has your back!

***

He had been sitting forlornly on the hard, wooden bench since the meeting ended. He should move really. His ass had gone distinctly numb and such a public display of weakness wasn’t fitting for someone who was about to become the figurehead of the global Satanic Clergy. He knew he must look a sight, his face blotchy and as red as his scarlet cassock. And yet his grief kept him here, weighed down like a stone in the stream of busy people moving along the corridor.

“We must say goodbye and I do not think I know how to, little one,” Copiah sniffed, wiping away a stray tear with the end of his fascia and absently scratching between the ears of the nut-brown rat in his lap.

He knew Sister Imperator was right of course. The logistics of the tour would be complicated enough without having to factor in transporting Eliza with them; the hotels and tour buses they must use would see her as vermin, not as the beloved pet she was. And she was getting old, it wouldn’t really be fair on her.

The bench shifting next to him roused him from his musings, making him startle until he looked, bleary-eyed, into the kind face of his oldest brother, Primo.

“I never did care much for this hallway,” the retired Papa groaned as he stretched out his legs in front of him. “Too drafty. Which is probably not good for the little one, eh?” He held his hand out towards the rat, who cautiously climbed into his and regarded him with twitching whiskers.

“I don’t know that there is any place good for her anymore. I must find her a new home but…who will want her? She is not so young anymore…Who can I trust to take care of her?” Copia replied, attempting to disguise the way his voice cracked by clearing his throat. “Sorry, I…I am being silly.”

Primo nodded thoughtfully as he stroked the rat with a single finger. Eventually, he placed the creature on Copia’s shoulder and heaved himself to his feet with a huff. “I may have a solution. Come.”

The older man had started to head off down the corridor before Copia had a chance to ask a question or compose his tear-stained state. Sure, now he can be sprightly he grumbled to himself, struggling to catch him up down the corridor.

They walked through the endless, labyrinthine corridors until Primo led them out into the gardens, past the greenhouses where Copia assumed the man spent most of his retirement. He hadn’t seen this dark, tucked-away section of the grounds before though. When they reached a gate set into some tall hedges, he gave Eliza a fond pat to soothe himself as much as to reassure her, and finally interrupted his brother’s contented humming. It sounded suspiciously like All Things Bright and Beautiful. “Where are we going?”

Primo beamed as he opened the gate and waved for Copia to enter.

His eyes widened as he gazed at the scene before him. A huge circular space; a stunning meadow flower bed at the centre and outlined by ornate aviaries filled with plants and shrubs. The roof of each structure was the green hue of oxidised copper and reminded Copia of the gothic bandstands he’d seen in older parks. They even had the pre-requisite spooky ravens and crows scattered around their wrought gables. Some had open mesh walls while others were enclosed by glass or blacked out entirely.

“I do not know when this structure was first built. Probably back when collecting animals was fashionable. Humans have always sought animals – especially birds – a symbol of status. Of power,” Primo hummed as he started to walk a lazy circuit, stopping to peer in at the two barn owls perched in a distant corner of the first aviary. Copia placed a protective hand over Eliza, but the birds merely ruffled their feathers sleepily and resumed their daytime slumber. “I restored this place, but like our Abbey, I aimed to offer sanctuary to all who needed it. Especially those who’ve been harmed by our ridiculous superstitions.”  

“So, it’s like a menagerie of the damned?” Copia murmured, walking further along and taking in more owls, ravens and a raptor didn’t recognise. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he caught the amber gaze of a fox before it darted into the greenery.

His older brother chuckled. “You could say that I suppose. We leave the hatches open to allow the birds and bats to fly free. I think you’ll be more interested in what’s at the other end though,” he nodded for him to follow towards the enclosed area on the other side of the circle.

The balmy warmth hit them the moment the door opened. A Sister of Sin looked up and smiled, apparently in the middle of cleaning out a huge stack of cages where a dozen or so mice happily scampered about. “Sister Frances,” he nodded kindly.

After sitting subdued on his shoulder, Eliza suddenly perked up and began chittering loudly in Copia’s ear. He soon saw why. At the other side of the former aviary was a huge enclosure, filled with toys, scattered bedding and the curious faces of three other rats. “Oh!” he gasped, unable to resist moving towards them.

Sister Frances followed, opening the front and allowing the three of them to skitter up her arm, where they peered curiously at newcomers. “Cannoli, Cornetto and Confetti. Papa always did have a sweet tooth,” she grinned up at Primo before returning her attention to the rat on Copia’s shoulder. “And who is this?”

“A new resident, perhaps,” Primo said placing a hand on Copia’s other shoulder. “If you are happy for Eliza to come here, it would be our privilege to care for her. And you’re welcome to come and see her at any time.”

Copia’s momentary delight in the rats evaporated into the muggy heat of the small building and he felt his expression pinch again. His treacherous tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them. “Sorry,” he mumbled, averting his gaze away from Primo and the Sister. “You must think I’m a pathetic fool.”

“Of course not,” Sister Frances murmured kindly, holding out her arm for Eliza to climb up so she could sniff at the other rats. “It’s always hard to say goodbye.”

“Indeed, fratellino,” Primo sighed. “You think you are being silly but let me tell you…not so far away we have a space where we lay departed souls to rest and there are plenty of our animal friends there. Terzo’s cat, Morpheus for one. Even Secondo’s snake. He dug the grave himself. We are not Catholics; we do not deny our animal friends a soul. If you love another living being there is nothing trivial about that love, si?”

Copia nodded with a hiccup, watching as the Sister placed the rats in the enclosure. He managed a watery smile as the three of them showed Eliza around the toys and feeding stations, like little realtors bragging about a property’s granite countertops and fitted wardrobes. “She looks like she fits right in,” he mused.

“She does. She’s very welcome. And we will take excellent care of here, fratellino, I promise you.”

Okay, the Carhartt coat thing. Here we go @autumnblooms , some soft squishy thoughts for you ft. Water Dew and Mountain.

Ft. some flower language.

Red roses meaning love and passion

Cyclamen meaning lasting feelings and sincere affection

Cocoa With Chili

Dew steps out of the Abbey doors and squints into the light. It's winter, and there's a crystalline quality in the way that the sun filters through the frost dancing in the air. Dew grips the mug in his hand closer to his chest, trying to absorb a bit of its warmth and hunching his shoulders forward into his coat. Ice crunches under his boots as he makes his way to the heavy wooden door across the courtyard that leads to outside the ancient stone walls.

Dew ducks under the dormant ivy and through the door, ears twitching at the sound of an axe ringing through the air. The smell of balsam reaches his nose and he smiles, tail swishing as he walks quicker towards the source of the sound and smell coming the edge of the forest.

As he draws closer to the treeline he sees Mountain with his back turned to him. The Earth giant is crouched close to the ground, clearing snow away from a great Spruce tree. Its magnificent, the ends of its branches sparkle with diamond-like drops of ice, frost coating the pinecones dangling off the tips of its boughs, sparkling with frost like a coating of glitter. It will be a beautiful Yule tree once Mountain brings it into the Great Hall of the Abbey.

Dew trills, and Mountain turns at the sudden noise, smiling broadly at the sight of the approaching Water ghoul. He pushes the hood of his Carhartt coat back from his head and straightens, approaching Dew.

"Hi, Droplet, whatcha got there?"

Dew withdraws the mug from his jacket, offering it to the taller ghoul, "I brought you some cocoa, prepared with spices and a tiny bit of chili, just the way you like it."

Mountain takes the covered mug from Dew's tiny hand, taking a sip. Warmth and comfort blooms in his stomach, and he purrs at the taste of the spiced chocolate, his favorite. He looks down at Dew, who's trying not to show that he's shivering now with the absence of the mug's warmth. Mountain sets the mug down on a nearby stump. He unzips his jacket, opening it in offering to the Water ghoul.

Dew chirps and leaps forward, wrapping his arms around Mountain's waist and burrowing his face into the Earth ghoul's solid chest. Mountain puts his hands in the pockets of his Carhartt coat and wraps the fleece and canvas around his partner. A purr kicks up in Dew's chest and Mountain chuckles as he squeezes the Water ghoul close to his body, a rumbling purr vibrating through his chest and into Dew's body.

"Your cocoa is gonna get cold," Dew mumbles from within the cocoon of canvas and fleece.

"It's okay, Water Lilly, you're the more important priority right now," Mountain laughs, squirming a bit as Dew rubs his nose into Mountain's underlayer.

After a short time, Dew emerges from Mountain's embrace. His face scrunches and he twitches his nose at the dusting of snow flitting down from the trees around them.

"Come sit and have some of that cocoa while I finish here. It shouldn't be too much longer," Mountain shucks off his coat, spreading it canvas side down on the stump for Dew to sit on, and places the steaming mug in his hand.

A few last good thwacks of the ax brings the Yule tree down to the ground. As Mountain sets the ax down and wipes his hands off on his work pants, he glances over his shoulder and his heart stops at the sight behind him. Dew had taken his Carhartt jacket off the stump and burrowed into it, the material dwarfing his tiny body and covering his legs down past his knees. His dainty hands peek from the gargantuan sleeves as he sips from the mug of spiced cocoa.

Dew watches Mountain approaching him, eyes slipping upward to the flowers that had bloomed at the base of Mountain's antlers in the the time it had taken him to cross the clearing to the Water ghoul enveloped in his massive coat.

Mountain reaches up, plucking a red rose and a Cyclamen from his antlers, offering them to Dew. He bends down and presses a soft kiss to the smaller ghoul's lips, conveying all his love and affection for his ghoul wrapped up nice and snug in his coat.

"I love you, Bug."

"I know."

have some copia face studies!!

Born to be

Zeph finds a certain fire ghoul in the kitchen. (post-transition)

Characters: Zephyr, Dewdrop Word count: 586

“Dew?” Zephyr walked into the kitchen, leaning heavily on their cane. It was late already; the moon had long risen, but they were thirsty and, even though everything hurt, they didn’t want to ask someone to fetch them something.

The ghoul that sat on the countertop was a surprise, though; a bag of Cheetos in his lap. His transition had been four days ago, but Omega and especially Aether insisted on keeping him in the infirmary for another week, just to make sure everything was truly alright.

“Zeph!” Dewdrop had at least the decency to look caught. He was wearing a way too big shirt, the smell of Aether wafting over to the air ghoul, and they gave the other an amused look but said nothing about the fact that Dew had escaped the infirmary.

The taller grabbed themself a cup and groaned at the motion, as the pain in their back got worse from it.

“You need some help?” the smaller ghoul asked and already stood up to take the cup. “Tea?”

Zeph let out a sigh, but nodded and moved over to sit at the table, while the ghoul poured water into the cup and then took some tea from a box. But instead of heating it up in the microwave, he sat down next to Zeph, his tail swinging. Both hands wrapped around the cup, the water began to heat up, and the grin on Dew’s face was straight up adorable.

“Thank you,” Zephyr took the tea and watched the smaller ghoul with a soft look. It had been long since they saw Dewdrop that happy; his whole aura had changed. His tail never stopped swinging, and he looked like he was completely at ease with himself.

“So I take Aeth doesn’t know you are here?” The air ghoul chuckled, and the guilty expression he got as an answer. “I won’t tell him.”

“Thanks,” Dew tilted his head to the side, the smile not vanishing from his face.

“You fell good, hmm?” they asked him then, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Very,” Dew answered. “I feel fantastic!”

Zephyr gave him a nod. “I get what you mean. It’s great to be yourself, to feel like you’re finally yourself…”

The fire ghoul grinned a bit, his hands fidgeting as he avoided eye contact. His cheeks flushed from excitement.

“I just… I don’t know how to describe it. But I feel so much better, so much more comfortable,” he tried to explain. “It’s like my whole me is finally me and the stuff I can do now! It’s so cool!”

The air ghoul felt their heart melting for their pack mate. He seemed so innocent like that, as if he had always been a fire ghoul, always been that joyful. But the moment was destroyed as their knee decided to send a new rush of pain through their leg, and they felt kind of guilty for ruining Dew’s mood with it.

“Can I?” Dew asked instead, the happiness not disappearing. He had his hands raised and Zeph understood what he meant.

“You can.”

They sat like that for another hour, Dew’s hand caressing the spots that were hurting the most, heating them up, soothing the pain. Zephyr watched his face most of the time, how he concentrated not to make it too hot and to keep the heat constant. And three things were for sure: Dewdrop was happy, he was complete, and he was born to be a fire ghoul.

__________________ i don't like it again, but idc

reblogs would be appreciated nonetheless

Anything Swissalps please!!

Rubs my grimey little hands together

(obligatory tag for @hypnoneghoul !)

Mountain doesn't really like the caterpillars and worms on his plants in the room, but knows they're very much needed. He's started to get used to them more bc Swiss names them and it's kinda their thing.

"Martin is fuckin' chowing down on this vera right now..."

"I thought Martin eats the peonies?"

"No that's his twin brother Jake."

"Oh.."

Speaking of the plants!!! Swiss is VERY accustomed to them. His stand in Mountain when they aren't there. Always super reactive and love Swiss so so so much. They love holding him, helping him with tasks in the room, and just making sure he's okay. Swiss used them for... Self pleasuring reasons and literally only a minute in before Mountain stumbled in with the biggest hard on ever. He then learned that day that, yes, Mountain can feel and know everything the vines are doing/receiving.

Mountain who courts Swiss with wreaths and bones, flowers delicately picked and meaningful, and even down to foraging for him. Swiss who doesn't know how to court besides quintessence, but it just doesn't feel right. So he does what he does best!! Makes a song for Mountain!! It's kinda an air/water thing, but it's so specifically him that it doesn't really need an elemental label.

I'm sharing part of my hibernation Mountain propaganda and y'all are dealing with it. Mountain is GONE during the winter and Swiss is his hibernation mate even tho he doesn't really sleep like Mounty does. Lottt of grooming, breeding, and feeding as Mountain is running purely on instincts and can't really form coherent thoughts outside of those instincts. He just knows "my mate needs to eat." "my mate doesn't smell like me and I need to fix that internally and externally." Swiss doesn't mind it as he's still able to get up and move around, sometimes leave the room for quick trips to the kitchen and back. Swiss usually curls up on Mountain's torso and he's held sooo tenderly by this big furry beast. He LOVES it.

Mountain wears glasses but he loses them a LOT. Swiss always has an extra pair on him just in case which has come in handy multiple times. Swiss always demands them back once Mountain is done using them. "I'm not letting you lose the only backup pair you have, dork."

Big boy is embarrassed about wanting to be topped, but ohhh Swiss knows. He knows. Loves putting Mountain in the most submissive positions like doggy, missionary, or a mating press, but fuck does Mountain love it. He loves feeling smaller for once, loves watching his yin on top of him just whispering the most embarrassing things you could ever think of.

I've talked about Mistress Judas a few times, Swiss' bdsm persona, but... With Mountain? Ohh at her feet for anything she says. She makes him feel stupid. Weak. Lower. Small. It's what he wants and needs, and she's more than happy to provide. Big on breath play, boot play, and her whip. Best aftercare in the world, and Mountain wouldn't have it any different as he's massaged and given such tender kisses, words, and affections.

Mountain who sees Swiss as his art form—as art itself. As yin and yang. As everything right in the world. Something something, he's so dumb in love he can't think and just writes all of his love frustration on paper and hands it to Swiss who keeps them safe in a folder he reads through a lot.

Something something they're so in love it's sickening.

Why do I feel like this needs to be a fic?

He's either scared or really captivated with the magical water ghoul in front of him summoning a storm...

A study evolved into this rendered scene, i felt blue since it stormed today.

Bonus mustache:

Tip jar

Idk if i’m looking for things that don’t exist or something, or if i’m really late to this realization cause i haven’t interacted with ghost content too much in like a year, but i noticed that sodo almost always gets called dewdrop in fics, but on social media and irl, he more often than not gets called sodo.

Ppl probably already came to that conclusion but i still wanted to share cause i was happy i noticed it

-🪱

Yes!! This is a THING.

Unmasked Dewdrop actually goes by "Sodo" (or Sodomizer) in real life and has for like....15 years at least.

But there are a lot of fans who don't know that, or don't care, and have heard him referred to that way and have decided that Dew is actually Sodo.

To me, personally, it's a big ick. And it makes me uncomfortable to refer to the character as Sodo. If we're talking about the musician? He's Sodo, for sure. If it's the ghoul? Dewdrop. I just need to keep that separation. They're not the same person. Sodo plays Dewdrop. But Dewdrop isn't Sodo. Like I can't even read fanfic where he's called Sodo. It makes me feel weird.

Also everyone pronounces Sodo wrong but that's another rant for another time.

Just the fact Swiss has a cowbell this tour cycle and it's a no phone concert is killing me. I need to see how freaky that ghoul gets when he's playing it.