#moth ghoul

[moth-ghoul]

i make my zines by putting this guy in canva :)

(on canva, you can rotate text by turning the little turning arrow symbol next to your text)

#moth ghoul #moth types #zines #zine #zine template #how to make a zine #zine tutorial #diy #punk #canva

[the-moth-ghoul]

... rosy maple.

Hm…? Oh, you’re talking about me, right?

#moth ghoul #nameless ghoul oc #ghost bc #ask blog #in character

[seanceofghouls]

Moff

#from beyond the veil #nameless ghouls #ghoulsona #Artemis ghoul #moth ghoul

[midnight-moth]

Is anyone alive on tumblr.com … I worked real hard on this one. So please lub himb.

#yes he has glittery nail polish it’s canon #my phantom do be blind and do have a very big scar #he didn’t have the white hair thing but the fandom made that canon so he got it #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #the band ghost fanart #nameless ghouls #quintessence ghoul #won’t lie if this flops I will cry a lot #midnight moth draws

[sphylor]

Phantom loves things that can fly. he loves birds and bugs and bats and animals that can glide. he thinks theyre all super cool. he especially loves bats and moths, though. Mountain takes him out one night to watch the bats fly through the night sky and set up a moth watch. they hang a sheet over a tree branch and shine a torch through it and watch as moths slowly start to gather. Mountain tells him their names and any facts he knows about them and Phantom just watches and listens in awe

#my 'friend' was incredibly rude to me about moths today so have this little thing #mountain ghoul #phantom ghoul #moths are super cool i love them so much

[iamthecomet]

Dear Comet, if you are still accepting prompts - Please - thrusts into your hands my fav rarepair - Cowbell/Aeon #20.

Ok, so like, I have barely written Cowbell, so I was worried about doing him justice, but the second I put these two together it all just...happened. I get it. They are just SO good together. YOU ARE SO RIGHT. Here's 700+ words of Aeon being so sweet to Cowbell (AS HE DESERVES).

Aeon spent his first few months topside unsure of Cowbell. Watching the older ghoul from afar. Fascinated by his outright refusal to even pretend to be human. Movements too fast, too sudden. They’ve gotten to know each other slowly. Aeon slipping into his orbit when he can. Walking next to him on their way to the gardens. Sitting next to each other at Mass. 

Aeon gathers bits and pieces. Finds Cowbell strangely secretive. Speaking in a rasping whisper most of the time. But Aeon loves his stories. Stories of his time on the road. Of his small moments on stage. Of the pit. Aeon hangs on every gravely word as Cowbell recounts. 

Aeon finds him easier to talk to than some of the other ghouls. The band ghouls especially. He knows he’s one of them now but that still doesn’t feel right. They feel like they’re on a pedestal above everyone else whether they want to be or not, and Aeon doesn’t know how to climb up to stand next to them–he doesn’t know if he wants to. 

“You never take your mask off,” Aeon observes, one warm spring day. They’re sitting in the center of Primo’s hedge maze. The fountain in the middle of the clearing bubbling away. The air smelling like lilacs and fresh tilled dirt. Cowbell sighs, slides his  finger over the sharp jaw of his mask. 

He has an older one–there are quite a  few ghouls around who still wear them. Mist, Omega, most of the working ghouls who were summoned during that era. Aeon knows Dew has one–has seen it on his bookshelf. He suspects Dew puts his old uniform on sometimes in an attempt to disappear. 

“Not a pretty sight, kid,” Cowbell huffs out, dropping his hand to lean back on it. To tilt his head up toward the sun like he can feel it on his face through all that metal. 

“I showed you mine,” Aeon offers, pointing to his own maskless face, his damaged left eye and the scars surrounding it. Cowbell turns his head to look at him. Aeon can see his eyes narrowing behind the mask, thought, maybe. Or he’s about to tell Aeon he doesn’t know what he’s talking about–that he can’t possibly understand. 

Instead, Cowbell sits up, he sighs, and takes his mask in both hands, lifts it. He settles it down on the grass between his knees and takes his time before he looks over at Aeon. It gives Aeon time to study his profile. The wild dark hair. A jawline, sharp like the one on the mask. Crooked noise, pale gray skin. One thin horn curving back over his skull, deadly sharp at the point. The other broken off near the base, rough and jagged. 

When Cowbell turns, Aeon gasps. He’s gorgeous. Scarred yes, but most ghouls are somewhere. His face made of sharp angles, cut glass. Eyes, lined with dark make-up, looking almost owlish, one glittering violet, the other vibrant amber. 

Aeon can’t help but touch him. Can’t stop himself from reaching out and cupping that razor sharp jaw in his palm to see if it will hurt him. But instead, what he gets is Cowbell leaning into that touch. Eyes fluttering closed, breath heaving out in a sigh. 

Aeon isn’t stupid. He knows what privilege he’s been given. Knows that Cowbell doesn’t let anyone touch him like this, see him like this. That he has been given a gift that almost no one else here has–to really see this ghoul for who he is. 

Aeon inches closer. Caresses Cowbell’s scarred cheek. Holds him. Studies him. He may never get this chance again–he wants to remember this. To commit every angle, every line, every scar to memory so he never forgets. 

“So pretty,” Aeon mumbles and Cowbell scoffs. Eyes cracking open. 

“Liar.” 

Aeon shakes his head. “Shut up and let me look at you.” 

Cowbell does, eyes still slitted open, watching Aeon’s face intently. 

“Can I?” Aeon asks–doesn’t really know what he’s asking for until Cowbell nods and he does it.  Leaning in to press gentle lips over the scar that bisects a dark eyebrow. And then another over a silverly line cutting across the bridge of his noses. And then his lips are grazing over the scars on Cowbell’s cheek. 

The older ghoul chuckles. “What are you going to do, kiss them all?”

“Maybe.” Aeon mutters, lips dragging over Cowbell’s temple. 

“We’ll be here all day.” 

Aeon hums, unbothered not pulling away. Tasting salt and metal on Cowbell’s skin. “Good.” 

#comet writes #moth #cowbell ghoul #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #kiss game #fic game

[incorrectghostfiles]

I hope you guys know that I'm reading these like the morning paper.

#moth man #mothman #shane madej #ryan bergara #ghost files #watcher #ghoul boys

[shadowofmoths]

BECAUSE I SAID SO, a jet star zine inspired by the prompts at @mcrzines !! i wanted to draw little jets and it ended up becoming a story about choosing your family & telling stories in the apocalypse. 💫💙

#jet star #danger days #my chemical romance #party poison #kobra kid #fun ghoul #the girl #moth's zine zone #jason arts

[ask-omega-ghoul]

*the four foot tall ghoul looked up at Omega from the floor, looking a little pale*

…oh…hi…am I in your way…?

@the-moth-ghoul

uh, no, if i wanted to pass, i'd just walk around you. everything okay, little guy?

#ask #ask omega ghoul #anon #omega ghoul #the moth ghoul

[ghoulodont]

With the Bathwater

Rain offers to take a weight off Dewdrop's shoulders. Part of the Blur Turns to Haze series, but can be read on its own.

Relationship: Raindrop Characters: Dewdrop, Rain Tags: Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Fluff, eepy dew Words: 1808

Read below or on AO3

It’s still early in the evening, but Dewdrop’s energy seems to be flagging. He’s lying on his side on his bed, curled in on himself loosely. He’s blinking slowly like a contented cat, letting his eyes stay closed a fraction of a second longer each time.

Rain, sitting on the bed next to him, is frozen, held in place by a desire not to disturb the present calm. They’re trapped together in an ambiguous place between sleep and wakefulness. Realistically, Dew would be more comfortable under the covers, but Rain is caught in the paradox of avoiding the short uphill climb that would lead to the easy descent of restful sleep.

So he gives Dew a few more minutes before prompting him, “You going to call it a night?”

Dew shakes his head, or makes some semblance of the gesture, the best he can with his head pressed against the mattress. He rolls onto his back and, laboriously, sits himself up. “I was going to take a shower.” He leans back, propping himself up with one arm extended behind him. “I need to wash my hair. I feel gross.”

“You’re not gross.”

“I just meant… I feel gross.” He drags his hand through his hair. It gathers together between his fingers, stiffer than it usually is, more substantial. Then he holds his empty hand in front of him, palm up, like he’s displaying something. There’s nothing there, just the suggestion of a sensation.

“Oh.”

Dew sighs. He makes no move to get up, to head for the bathroom.

“Do you want…”

Dew tips his head to one side.

“Do you want me to help?”

His eyebrows raise, a barely perceptible twitch. “You mean…?”

“To do it for you? Only if you want.”

He pauses, silent for a moment that feels like forever, before he speaks again. “I’d like that.”

Rain stands, released from the lingering air of meticulous stillness. Dew stands too; he sways slightly in place before he starts walking to the bathroom. Rain follows.

In the bathroom, Rain turns on the shower. He spins the handle until it’s set almost as hot as it will go — Dew’s preference. Standing at the edge of his peripheral vision, Dew pulls his shirt over his head.

They’ve showered together before, but they’ve never really done this before — taking their clothes off in the bathroom for the sole purpose of showering with each other, as the main event. Dew’s shirt drops from his fingers and crumples to the floor.

Rain pulls his own shirt off, steps out of his pants. He feels the water with his hand. It’s hot. He knew it would be; steam is starting to fill the room.

They step into the shower, Dew first and Rain after him. Dew stands facing the wall, directly under the water, his head tipped forward so that it runs off his forehead in a flat sheet that splatters noisily against the floor. Then he takes a small step back, moving out of the spray, and flips his sopping wet hair out of his face with one hand. Behind him, Rain is barely getting wet at all, which is fine. It’s not why he’s here.

Dew picks up the shampoo bottle. Almost immediately, it slips from his grasp; he drops it on the shower floor, the hollow plastic clattering a cacophonous thunder on the tile. His shoulders first rise towards his ears in response to the jarring sound, then sink in a forceful, frustrated sigh, inaudible over the sound of running water.

“Let me,” Rain offers — or reminds, really. This was the idea in the first place. He picks up the shampoo from where it’s come to rest after skittering across the slippery surface, somewhere near his right foot. He uncaps the bottle and pours some of its contents into his open palm. Dew, still facing away, fidgets in place, bending one knee slightly, shifting his weight.

Rain brings his hands to Dew’s wet hair, slowly, like he’s trying not to startle a skittish animal, and presses the shampoo into it with gentle strokes of his hands. He works it into a lather with his fingertips, rubbing small circles into Dew’s scalp.

Dew is so pliable, tilting his head in accordance with the gentle pressure applied to it. Rain rubs behind his ears, at the base of his horns, along the junction where his skull meets his neck. A hefty blob of shampoo foam drops to the floor with a quiet plop.

“They increased my dose,” Dew says, breaking the relative silence between them. “Last night. Feels like starting over.” He’s offering a handful of vague, disjoint half-statements, expending the minimum energy required to get his point across, leaving Rain to fill in the gaps.

“Like the first day? I saw you, it looked like you were sleepwalking.”

“I feel like I’m sleepwalking.”

Rain hums. He drops his hands to Dew’s shoulders and guides him to turn around so his back is to the water. Dew’s eyes are closed. With gentle fingers against his scalp again, Rain tips his head back into the stream.

He rakes his fingers through Dew’s hair, plowing furrows in the dense foam, creating channels into which the water rushes and whisks it away. He strokes Dew’s hair back with his hands, squeezing the water from it over and over, until all the shampoo rinsed out. He picks up the bottle of body wash. Dew opens his eyes just a sliver, peeking out past damp lashes.

Rain snaps open the flimsy plastic flip-top lid of the body wash. Once again, Dew is remarkably pliable, allowing Rain to lather soap all over him, providing easy access to all his limbs, shuffling around as needed. He braces a hand against the tiled wall for balance.

Rain guides him back under the water falling from the shower head. It quickly rinses off the majority of the soap suds, driving rivers through a landscape of rolling hills formed by a thin coating of white foam. Bubbles gather at the drain in a heap, holding on to the last moments of their life before they succumb to the flow of water.

He brushes his hands over Dew’s skin, slippery with a residual coating of soap. He pushes the running water across his shoulders, neck, arms, down his back, over his legs. The slipperiness washes away, dissipates until only the feeling of wet skin remains. Even so, he continues, pushing clean water away to be replaced by more clean water, again and again.

“Rain.” Dew’s voice is quiet, mixing in with the sound of water droplets hitting the shower floor.

Rain’s hands pause, frozen in place on Dew’s body, held against either side of his ribcage.

“This is nice, but can we go lie down now?”

“Of course.” Rain drops his hands away.

Before Rain can lean forward and turn off the shower, Dew turns around. He places his hands on Rain’s sides, just above his hip bones, an echo of the position they paused in just moments ago.

The water is hitting the back of Dew’s head now, like earlier, but this time he’s looking up, looking at Rain. A rivulet of water runs down the side of his face. The image evokes some dramatic romance movie scene, a climactic moment where the love interests are caught in a torrential downpour.

Rain feels his lips pull into a smile, an involuntary expression betraying his thoughts. He’s not sure he could put a word to this emotion. There’s a fondness at the forefront, a familiar, deep sea of warmth he feels whenever he looks at Dew. The salt breeze of it carries the vague, ambiguously masculine scent of his body wash, some wood smell. Cedar, maybe.

The sea is deeper than before, more vast, impossibly so, its waters all-encompassing. Its shimmering surface ripples with so many more feelings, thoughts, ideas, a kaleidoscopic interface with the ambient air. Comfort. Worry. Humor in the inadvertent romance movie parallel. Appreciation for the trust Dew is putting in him right now.

“Thank you,” Dew says.

Rain pushes a stray lock of wet hair away from Dew’s face. “Of course.”

He turns off the shower, the steady thrum of water quickly diminishing to a slow, rhythmic drip. Dew steps out and wraps himself with a towel, draping it around his shoulders like a blanket. He shuffles out of the bathroom.

Rain hastily dries himself off and puts his clothes back on, retrieving them from where he discarded them on the tile floor. When he returns to the main room of Dew’s dorm, he finds Dew curled up on the bed again, still wrapped in the towel.

Rain picks out some clothes from the dresser — boxers and an old t-shirt. Dew lets the towel fall against the covers as he sits up. Rain slips the neck of the shirt over his head. It’s large on him, the worn fabric draping loosely against his torso. Dew puts his underwear on himself. Rain uses the fallen towel to blot Dew’s still soaking wet hair dry.

When he’s satisfied with the state of Dew’s hair, Rain removes the towel. Dew flops back onto the bed and lies there for a moment, perfectly still save for the rise and fall of his chest, but then he drags himself up and heads back into the bathroom. Rain busies himself tidying up — hanging the used towels to dry, gathering Dew’s clothes from their pile on the floor and putting them with his dirty laundry.

In the bathroom, Dew brushes his teeth, leaning heavily against the sink. When he’s done, he pads back into the other room, flops onto his bed, and crawls under the covers.

He nestles his head into the pillow, then looks up at Rain. “Stay?”

“Oh, um, it’s— it’s kind of early…”

Dew stares at him like his mental gears have jammed trying to process that statement. His tired eyes look like they can’t perceive a world in which any of its inhabitants wouldn’t want to go to sleep right now.

Rain kicks himself for saying something like that. Of course he can stay. “Until you fall asleep.”

Dew snorts. “It’ll be, like, two seconds.” He pulls the edge of the duvet to his chin.

Rain lies down next to him, on top of the covers to maximize his chances of sneaking away later without waking him up. There’s not much of a point, really; if Dew is feeling the way he did a few days ago, like he said earlier, he’ll be dead to the world soon. Still, he arranges himself carefully, thoughtfully, rolling over so he’s face to face with Dew.

Dew’s eyes are closed, his breathing even. Is he already asleep?

“Goodnight,” Rain whispers, so quiet it’s barely more than a breath.

“Goodnight,” Dew whispers back, eyes still closed.

#ghost band fanfic #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #sorry if theres typos or weird things im about to sleep so hard im going to wake up as a pile of dust witha moth flying out of it #fic i wrote

[moth-ghoul]

do not quote me on these being strictly punk songs, i am making shit up and having fun

#moth types #moth's zines #moth ghoul #zines #diy #punk #punk rock #punk music #punk zines #diy zine #punk rock music #against me! #mcr #blondie #no doubt #sleater kinney #the breeders #music zine #playlist zine

[the-moth-ghoul]

*there was a soft knocking on the door.*

you okay in there, bud?

*Moth opened the door, the little ghoul wrapped up in a blanket yawning*

Yeah…

#ghost bc #moth ghoul #nameless ghoul oc #ask blog #in character

[nihil-gaiman]

WHAT MOTHS GHOST WOULD BE🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

Cumulus: Venezuelan Poodle Moth

Aurora: Eastern Tent Caterpillar Moth

Swiss: Cecropia Moth

Rain: Hawk Moth

Mountain: White-stripe Longtail Moth

Sodo/Dewdrop: Esmerelda Longtail (because it fades from blue-to reddish brown like his element change)

Copia: Rustic Sphynix Moth

Phantom: Black Peppered Moth

Cirrus: Bog Buckmoth

EXTRA:

Secondo: Striped Hawk Moth

#im getting over my fear of insect by looking at butterflies and moths ok #ghost #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghumblr #copia #ghost band #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia #papa copia #moths #ghouls #nameless ghouls #swiss #sodo #aurora ghoulette #ghoulettes #ghost phantom #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette

[midnight-moth]

Hey, just stopping by to leave these tacky 90s valentines cards I drew.

#dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #the band ghost fan art #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #midnight moth draws #okay bye again

[ghostieagere]

this afternoon i've been thinking about regressed zephyr..

they don't often regress, but when they do they're such a sweet little thing. they love curling up on ifrit's warm lap with a plushie in their arms and the tip of a thumb in their mouth. they never really talk much when they're big anyway, but when they're little, most of the time they'll be nonverbal (sometimes it's a selective muteness type of thing because they enjoy the silence, but sometimes words are just too much for them to handle when slipped into that smaller headspace). this will never stop them from purring though, and ifrit absolutely adores having a lapful of regressed zephyr because it always means he'll be treated to the sound of quiet purring and contented, wordless vocalisations by the ghoul snuggled up in his lap

#yes this was all inspired by those moth plushies hehe !! #zephyr ghoul #regressed ghouls #ghostie headcanons

[moth-apocalypse]

ok next up for moths animal crossing ghouls!!!

Aurora!!

once again under the the cut :]

Villagers: Merengue, Apple, Bob, Chelsea, Judy, Roscoe, Gala, Genji, Audie, Midge

Copia got her and Phantom switch lites with animal crossing as a summoning gift (Copia is so willing to spend money on his ghouls - the ministry doesn't need to know the ghoul care money is being used for games) + so they wouldn't be bored on the tour bus, and the two got SO into it

she gets SO excited when Lable is in town, and loves the Able sisters in general. she saw a post explaining their story once and Swiss had to make her stop crying and take her switch away for a bit bc she spent all her bells buying clothes "because she has to support their dreams!!!"

she really tried to have a cool theme to her island, and spent AGES downloading stuff like custom pathing, but her island is always in a state of being half finished because she gets distracted and wants to change it up

Shes gotten into many debates with Rain over Tom Nook . she insists he's capitalist scum who throws you on an island that throws you into debt . Rain insists he's not that bad, bc he gives you a nice island to live on + doesn't make you rush payments/really make you pay at all if you don't want updrages . the fights always last way longer than they should ..

She doesnt like that Roscoe doesnt fit her vibe, but she refuses to let him move out; Swiss also has him on his island, and she LOVES pissing off Swiss by saying she has the "real Roscoe". she is nothing if not dedicated to the bit.

#moths ghoul crossing #ghost bc #ghost band #nameless ghouls #aurora ghoulette