Quick Cardinal Painting, Because I Felt That We, As A Fandom, Do Not Appreciate Enough That He's Canonically

Ghoul ships and how they love

Rain and Dewdrop : Quiet Love

It's a gentle kind of love. It requires no effort, no asking, no grand declarations. No matter how unique they both appear in the eyes of others, they always meet in the middle. They fit like puzzle pieces, physically, spiritually.

Their love is public, yet discreet. Observable but never invasive. It's Dewdrop's arm around Rain's waist when they wait in line at a bar. It's Rain's hand on Dew's knee when they sit together in the common room to chat with the others. It's Rain stealing Dew's hairband on his wrist when he's mid-conversation with someone else, knowing he has his silent permission. Or Dew wearing Rain's jacket instead of his own when he has to go out alone. Everyone can see these little marks of belonging. They brand themselves with pieces of the other, to keep a semblance of company, a smell, something to comfort, something to go home to. It's not ownership. It isn't a warning to stay away from a property. It's an affirmation to the world that they exist for each other.

Their love is Rain calming Dew's storms and Dew making him want to come out of his shell a bit more every day. It's Dew's hyperactivity and constant buzz finding its peace in Rain's presence, and Rain allowing himself to be loud when he finally finds someone who cares to listen.

It's Dew opening all the doors whenever the weather is humid and the sky is cloudy, so they can sit together by the window and watch the rain fall in silence. It's Rain picking up wildflowers as ornaments for their shared room because Dew confessed he loved them once. It's bathing together and brushing each other's hair every day, resting skin against skin in the bathtub without any second thought. It's Rain embracing Dew in the darkness of night and softly caressing his hair to help with his insomnia, and Dewdrop waking up before Rain to make breakfast.

Thanks to Rain, Dewdrop wants to read. He wants to think, to learn, to write, so Rain always has someone to nerd with and complain to whenever he finds a plot hole. Because of Dew, Rain desires to use his hands, to make, to fix, so there's someone to count on when gear comes in for repair and Dew's hands are too used for work.

When the world outside is too much, they find a quiet understanding in each other. They give their love in thoughtful acts and silent touches. It's to no one a question, it's never to be doubted. There's no alternative for what they have.

Their love is obvious and it makes sense.

✨👐✨

😭😭😭😭😭

Choso 💭 *matchy-matchy = fated brothers*

credits to the original artist @yakult9_chim on X & ig

May I ask for Rain and Dew absolutely smothering Phantom because his anxiety is acting up really bad and the dp helps calm him down

I haven't just written something inside of tumblr without even opening a doc in a long time. Let's give it a go! 1100 ish words of Phantom having a meltdown, Rain and Dew being sweet. And maybe Dew having secret perv thoughts. Also everyone always puts cute or pretty gifs in their writing. Well I feel this one works.

"Where's Phantom?"

"I don't know, actually. Where is he?" Dew craned his neck from his seat on the edge of a folding chair, his eyes drifted away from the knot he was trying to pick out of his laces to Rain's face, creased with worry.

"I'm sure he's around? I mean, he can't have gone far." Words meant to self-soothe but they weren't doing a particularly good job. Rain's legs were already absentmindedly directing him toward the labyrinth of hallways.

"You wanna go look? I wanna go look." 

Rain gave Dew a small smile, a silent thank you for taking his worries and making them his own. For not making Rain ask him to go searching for Phantom, for not making him feel like he was concerned about nothing.

For not making Rain explain again that he was worried about the new summon; that despite appearances and reassurances, Rain saw the raw skin beside his thumbnails, the bruised circles carved beneath his eyes, the food he pushed around his plate but never into his mouth.

All of them were nervous, Papa was nervous. It was their first ritual together, at least with this iteration of the band. One without the steadying presence of Aether, the calming comportment of Sunny.

Dew abandoned the knot in his laces and followed Rain out of the greenroom, leaving the various satellite groups of crew and ghoul alike to continue eating, talking, vibrating with excitement about kicking off the tour. 

They weaved in and out of the hallway snaking to the rear of the building, still short one quintessence Ghoul and running out of hiding places.The clack of heeled boots finally revealed his location.

“Hey, what’re you doing back here?” Here being a darkened stairwell that led to the catwalks up above the stage.

Whether Phantom heard Dew’s voice or their approach, they weren’t sure. He didn’t react. He just kept up his pacing, 3 steps forward, 5 steps across, 3 steps back, 5 steps over, around and around and around. 

Dew, watching him move in the small space felt his own head spinning with vertigo eventually and tore his eyes away to look at Rain, who stood frozen, his arm halfway extended, as if he were about to stop Phantom in his tracks. 

“Hey bug, you’re gonna wear holes in your soles. Why don’t you slow down a little?” Phantom’s eyes flit up to Dew’s and then fell back on the toes of his shiny new boots. He did however finally stop moving. 

Neither Dew nor Rain were really sure what to do. Neither had really made progress in getting to know the ghoul. What they saw during practice, a charismatic ghoul who was little bit goofy, but also full of joy, had yet to reveal itself in alternate scenary. 

“Are you nervous? That’s okay. It’s normal. We all were, and we still are.” Rain took small steps toward him as he spoke, he half expected Phantom to arch his back and howl like a scared cat. 

Phantom wanted to answer them, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that if he opened his mouth, all of his insides would come spewing out. Not the contents of his stomach, his lungs, his heart, his spine. He felt like his silence was the only thing keeping his body glued together. Even then he felt the bonds weakening when he looked up at the concerned ghouls in front of him.

“You don’t have to speak. Just - if there’s anything we can do, can you nod?” 

Phantom considered whether he could do as Dew asked, whether communicating with him would cause everything to spiral out of control. Whether it would disturb the peace he’d made with that square meter of concrete in the back of the venue.

He nodded slowly, eyebrows quirking up in surprise that in fact, the ground beneath his feet had not shifted or crumbled. 

“Good. Okay, do you want water?” No.

“Food?” No.

“Do you want anyone other than us?” No

“Do you want to go outside?” No.

Guilt began to tear at the threads of reality Phantom had clung to since finding the quiet space. Rain and Dew watched him wring his hands in consternation, subconsciously mimicking him, Dew twisted his fingers together, feeling like they were failing him.

“Do you want a hug?” Rain’s voice made them both jump a little. 

Phantom nodded his head in affirmation and Rain felt the coil twisting in his chest loosen a little. 

Neither had really touched the ghoul, and once again they approached him as they would a feral cat, all but sticking their hands under his nose for him to sniff. Not that they were afraid he would bite or claw, they were afraid he would run.

Rain reached out first, wrapping his arms around Phantom’s tense shoulders, loose, and hopefully non-threatening. Still he felt the ghoul tense under his touch. 

Dew reached for his arm, a barely there pat to his bicep, and the ghoul visibly cringed.

“We’re sorry, you can change your mind. I don’t know - we can get Swiss, or Cirrus, or Papa.”

“No”, His voice came out as a croak, his throat dry and tight from his panic induced fugue. 

“What can we do?” 

“Just - you can touch me, but harder. I dunno why. When I feel - like this, those light touches make my skin crawl. I’m sorry - s’not your fault. I don’t - I don’t -”

“Ah.” Rain nodded. Dew was the same, whether he was upset, sad, anxious, he hated gentle, soft. He wanted heavy and solid. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be okay.” Phantom mumbled, feet angling to resume the pattern he’d been wearing into the floor.

Instead, Rain grasped him firmly by the wrists and led him to the wall, pulling the ghoul into his lap and into a most crushing hug, reinforced by Dew, wrapping his arms around the other half of his body. 

They both felt him sag and droop a little. 

“Better?”

Phantom gave them a barely-there nod, as best he could manage with the limited range of movement. Even as compressed as he was, he felt like his lungs were finally able to take in a satisfying amount of air.

“Don’t worry, we have lots of time. Hours in fact.”

Phantom nodded against Rain’s shoulder, beginning to doze off. The two tails snaking around his torso and the rumbling purrs of their owners nudged him over the edge.

“Is he asleep?” Dew whispered.

“Yeah. He’s drooling on me. Reminds me of someone.”

“Shut up. - Hey, if he likes this maybe he’ll like that other thing you do.”

“One step at a time.”

As Phantom’s mind swam between the conscious and unconscious world, he wondered what the other thing was. 

LATE NIGHT

Part I; Part II; Part III; Part IV; Part V;

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This is a small, mini comic of Angel and Husk. I will tag every page with its necessary warnings but this comic will depict some heavy topics. Tags for each h page will be below with page descriptions.

The comic as a whole is tagged: ‼️Violence, Drug Use, Strong Language

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After spending too much time crying on the floor of the hotel Lobby, Angel finally decided to go back to his room. But— what’s this on his door?

Vampire Goth Rain who's always wearing something straight out of a fantasy romance novel, all sheer fabric shirts and sinfully tight pants, having to wear his normie fits to the dry cleaners on laundry days/on his late night grocery trips evoking a very grungy gamer vibe continuously running into punk Dew and being completely mortified every time.

Yeah.

© Cyril Perregaux

awsten knight of waterparks at adjacent fest // shot by michael dubin

Could we get something where Phantom/Aeon realizes for the first time he is truly safe and loved in the new pack

I sprinkled some of my Aeon headcanons/lore on this one, I hope you don't mind.

Aeon had a rough time in the Pit and is afraid the other ghouls will hurt him, he does have sensory issues and a meltdown, but all ends well.

Aeon is summoned, brought Topside, in a particularly chaotic time.

He's rushed through practices, learns to harness his magick and play guitar, and is thrown into a tour that lasts several months. Sure, he's in tight quarters with a bunch of strange ghouls, he gets to know them, grows to like them even, but he's constantly on his guard. He knows what other ghouls are like, especially to a runt of a quintessence ghoul like him, and has the scars and marks to prove it. He spends the entire tour doing his best to keep up, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Getting back to the Abbey after the tour ends is just as drastic a change. Aeon's a ghoul who thrives on routines. In the Pit, it was simple: Scavenge enough food and clean water to survive, avoid the roaming packs of ghouls looking for easy pickings, repeat. Tour is similar enough, try to get enough sleep, keep his energy up, perform his best every night, crash on the bus, repeat.

When the tour ends, Aeon is faced with a daunting amount of free time. Sure, he has chores and duties, but nothing as demanding as the touring he's grown accustomed to. He doesn't deal with change well, throws everything off rhythm and makes it so much easier to overload him. Aeon spends most of his free time holed up in his room, door locked to the rest of the ghouls.

It's a shitty morning to begin with. The neckline of his pajama shirt rests against his throat, nearly setting off his gag reflex as he wakes up. Aeon changes into somebody else's hoodie that made its way into his room. The smell isn't quite right, doesn't fit him the way he likes, but it's the only clean top he has, and Aeon can't bring himself to go do laundry. The lights are too bright, and Aeon hisses, pulling the hood over his shaggy hair to shield his eyes.

Aeon slinks out of his room, trying to avoid the others as he heads to the kitchen. He just wants to grab some food, some fruit or something, and dart back to the safety of his room.

Naturally, that isn't what happens.

Cirrus, Swiss, and Dew are all in the kitchen, talking loudly and laughing with each other as Cirrus slips out, steaming mugs in their hands. The fire and multi ghouls turn and swivel to face him as he enters. Aeon gulps, pinned in place by their gazes.

"Morning, sleepyhead. Nice hoodie," Swiss teases, tail swishing behind him lazily. He grins wide, and Aeon does his best to hide his flinch as Swiss bares his fangs.

"We haven't seen much of you lately," Dew observes, taking a long drink from his mug, locking eyes with Aeon as he drinks.

Aeon burrows further into the hoodie, claws worrying at hangnails as he tucks his hands in the front pocket. "Sorry," he whispers, tail flicking behind him. He shudders as the sensitive spade scrapes against the tile. Aeon shrinks back

"You're always hiding in your room," Dew says, brows furrowed slightly. "What, are you afraid of us?"

"We spent months in real tight quarters, buggy," Swiss says, reaching out and setting a hand on Aeon's shoulder. "I know you value your privacy, but you can't hide in there forever."

Aeon flinches, jerking his shoulder back from Swiss's hand. "I just want to get something to eat. Don't wanna get in anybody's hair."

"You're not," Swiss says, frowning slightly, and Lucifer, that stings. "We just wanna know why you don't want to spend time with us."

"Yeah, voidling, we were all buddy-buddy on tour," Dew adds on. "What happened? We didn't upset you, didn't we?" Dew reaches out, touches his chest, and Aeon feels himself pushed over the edge, past an overload and hurtling towards a meltdown.

"Why won't you all leave me the fuck alone?" Aeon snarls, eyes flashing white-hot silver. His ears pin flat to his head, his tail lashing behind him. He snaps his fangs at Dew's outstretched hand, quintessence crackling in purple bolts like static electricity along his skin, looking for all the world like a feral ghoul straight out of the deepest, darkest parts of the Pit.

Dew flinches back, eyes wide with an expression that Aeon wishes more than anything he could read. Swiss takes a step back, swallowing hard as he holds his hands up placatingly. Aeon feels his stomach flip, eyes blurring with tears.

He takes a shaking step back, away from the fire ghoul. He ignores the others calling his name. He can't tell if they're calling for him out of anger, itching to put him in his place for disturbing their tentative peace.

His brain tells him he's back in the Pit, alone and in danger, surrounded by bigger, stronger ghouls, and his body acts accordingly. His hands dig into his hair, covering his ringing ears, claws biting into his scalp. He shrinks away from them, squeezing his eyes shut as he backs himself into the corner, back sliding down the wall as he makes himself as small as he can.

Aeon opens his mouth to beg, to plead with them for forgiveness, but can't find his words, human language escaping him, stuck in his throat. He hears Cirrus step back into the room, butting past Dew and Swiss, and feels her presence as she crouches down near him.

"Darling," she whispers. "Sweetheart, can you tell me what's wrong? It's okay if you can't."

"Please don't hurt me," he chitters, the ghoulish easier on his tongue. "I'm sorry, please don't hurt me."

Cirrus straightens, turning back to the other ghouls as she shifts backwards, giving Aeon a little more space. "Boys, I need you to take three steps back."

Aeon can hear their footsteps, breathes a little easier. He keeps muttering in ghoulish, pleading her, waiting to feel her sharp claws make contact. Tears streak down his cheeks, and he can't control his sobs as he feels three pairs of eyes on him.

"We're not going to hurt you, Aeon," she says, voice soft like a breeze. "Why would we hurt you? Darling, you're pack."

That's enough to shock Aeon out of his tears, opening his eyes to meet hers. "I'm not anybody's pack," He says, voice shaking as Cirrus's face falls. "I've never been anybody's pack."

"You're our pack, Aeon," she breathes. "Darling, you are as much our pack as any of us here. I'm sorry we haven't been clear about it."

Dew nods, taking a hesitant step forward. "Voidling, we all love you. I swear to the Father Below, none of us will ever hurt you," he says, sinking to his knees by Cirrus's side, his hands palm up and open on his thighs. "I'm sorry we kept pushing you."

Aeon wipes his eyes with the oversized sleeves of his hoodies, sniffling as Swiss kneels at Cirrus's other side. There's enough distance between the three of them and him that he doesn't feel cornered, but something in him feels right having them close.

"What did you mean, buggy, that you've never been anybody's pack?" Swiss asks, gold eyes full of something Aeon realizes with a start is concern. "You don't have to tell us, we just want to understand."

Aeon makes eye contact with Swiss for the first time since he lashed out. "Nobody wants a quintessence runt," he whispers. "Been on my own for a long time."

"Aeon, voidling," Dew says. "You're not alone anymore. You don't have to be."

"Besides, we do want you, buggy," Swiss says. "We want you in our pack so much. We want to see you, more than just glances. We're not solitary creatures, you know."

Cirrus reaches out hesitantly, her hand open and non-threatening, claws glamoured away. "Can I touch you, darling boy?"

Aeon nods and launches himself into her arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her honeysuckle-jasmine scent. "You promise you're not gonna hurt me?" he whispers.

"May I be banished to the Pits if I break that promise, darling," she whispers in his ear. She notices the chunk missing from the shell of his ear, holds him closer as she purrs soothingly. Swiss sets a gentle hand on the small of his back, and Dew runs glamoured fingers through his shaggy hair. "You'll never be hurt again."

They kneel there on the kitchen floor for a while, until Aeon shifts uncomfortably. Cirrus moves to let him go, and he clings harder, whimpering. "Please," he whispers. "Just, my knees hurt."

Cirrus chuckles, shifting herself. "Mine too. Are you alright if we go to the couches in the common room? Far more comfortable than the kitchen floor."

He tenses, but nods, hesitantly extricating himself from Cirrus's arms. Swiss helps him to his feet, leading the group to the oversized futon in the common room. Aeon and Swiss lay down, Aeon curled up to the multi-ghoul's warm chest, his arms wrapped tight around him. Cirrus sidles up against Aeon's back, rubbing soft patterns along his bicep over the hoodie. Dew lays horizontal to them, letting Aeon rest his head on the softness of his stomach, purring like a rusty motor.

One by one, the other ghouls join the cuddle pile, Aeon in the center, and he's never felt safer in his life. He chuffs, safe and content, drifting off to sleep, surrounded by the soft breathing of his pack.