#inspect element my beloved

[wackytheorist]

Well that's one theory confirmed!(I used inspect element)

I wonder which other languages we're getting! I think more Asian countries like Japan(because of the flag) and south korea(flowers from day one and cipher from day 2). The cipher from day three translates to sleep or bunny. I can't figure out what they mean on their own so here are some facts

The rabbit is one of the national animals of morraco

Rabbits are native to north-western Africa, Spain and Portugal

-"sleeping bunnies" is a famous nursery rhyme

The islanders that aren't active are "sleeping"

Before the server gets back on and the reset is complete the island technically are "sleeping"(unless-)

But need help figuring that out.

[hydraulicpressedspaghetti]

Damn, bye boops 😔

[simplyghosting]

“No one needs a computer anymore.”

Wrong.

>right-click

>inspect element

>delete annoying script housing this opinion

[inkyyasteroid]

killed him

[goldiipond]

plonk on your loser ad fuck you

[chasingsereine]

big fan of the new tumblr feature

[sentientgolfball]

Dew’s Turn pt.2

Part one

Tags: Era 3 ghouls, elemental transition angst, mentions of newly summoned Era 4 ghouls, polyghouls my beloved, hurt/kinda comfort?

Word count: 5797

Summary: Dew survived his transition but at what cost? Which price is higher, his companion or his mind?

Dew slowly blinked open his eyes.

He was on his back, staring up at the sky. It was a pretty pink color. He smiled when he saw the shining light of Venus peaking through the scattered wisps of clouds. He sighed contentedly before closing his eyes again, happy to sleep under the stars.

Wait.

The realization crashed into him as he snapped his eyes back open. He sat up quickly causing ash to fall off in clumps around his body. He looked around frantically, making sure that this was Earth, and more importantly that he was actually alive. He had half expected to see that he was back in Hell or some other strange type of afterlife, but when he saw the looming shadow of the Ministry in the distance he knew he was still there. A smile started to creep onto his face before he began to laugh maniacally.

“I did it! I fucking did it!” He jumped up from the remains of the pyre ready to bolt to the Ministry to go find his pack. He immediately realized that was a mistake when his legs gave out and he fell backwards right back into the ash pile. He didn’t care though, he just laid there giggling to himself watching ash float through the air.

“I’m the first ghoul to change elements,” He laughed to himself. He lifted his hands in front of his face to inspect them. He stared in awe at the way his forearms were now burnt black. He ran his hands over his arms where his fins once were; all that remained now were small, sharp ridges. Once he was done inspecting his arms he moved onto the rest of his body. He was mesmerized by the way his skin felt leathery. Like Ifrit. He grinned at the thought. His face fell slightly when he ran his hands over where his gills once were on his neck and abdomen.

He sat up slowly this time to take a look. The gills were sealed shut, the only evidence of their existence being dark markings. The sight of his sealed gills made his chest feel tight. He took a few deep inhales suddenly feeling like he needed more air. That’s when he had a second realization. His skin. It was no longer a deep blue-gray color, but rather a desaturated copper. He was astonished by the way it practically glowed in the fading twilight.

He smiled as he slowly dragged his hands back up his body. He traced the now fire symbol that was on his chest. It felt unnaturally warm when he touched it. Now that he thought about it, the rest of him felt unbelievably warm and, oh, he loved the feeling of it. The cold always got to him so easily as a water ghoul. He stopped touching the mark when it started to feel more like a burn.

He continued his exploration to his head. He sighed with relief when he felt his hair. He grinned as he ran his fingers through it, way too happy that it retained its length. From what he could tell by the ends, it was no longer a stark white but rather a pale golden color. His hands stopped dead in their tracks when he brushed his horns. He sucked in a breath and carefully touched them. His right horn had broken. There was only about half of it left.

He took a moment to let it sink in before he laughed again. He really couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He couldn’t care less about his missing horn or his leathery skin; he was just happy to be alive.

It was then that he realized the sun had gone completely below the horizon. He slowly pushed himself up and started to walk to the Ministry. He felt wobbly on his legs, off balance. He hadn’t noticed until that moment that his tail was much thinner. Along with that, the fin at the end of his tail seemed to have melted into a strange spade shape. It took him a moment to get used to the new weight, but once he did he started running. He had so much energy, like he was a kit again, like he was going to burst if he couldn’t get it out. He only stopped running when he smelled something. He turned around and realized he had left a trail of singed footsteps behind him “Oh shit.” He used his hands to try to snuff the embers the best he could, however, that seemed to only make it worse.

He whipped his head around when he heard a gasp and a crash from behind him. There stood a Sibling of Sin, trying and failing to avert their gaze from Dew.

He smiled and stood up, “Can I borrow one of those?” He gestures to the various sheets that had fallen out of the basket they dropped.

“Knock yourself out,” The Sibling squeaked out.

He took one and used it to pat out the smoldering grass. He smiled in satisfaction before handing it back to them. They quickly shook their head, “Uhh, I think you should keep that.”

Dew tilted his head in confusion for a moment before his eyebrows shot up in understanding when he noticed the way the Sibling was staring. He was naked. Very naked. He quickly wrapped the sheet around his wait and muttered an apology. Normally he wasn’t so modest, but the feeling of eyes on his new body suddenly made him shrink. He brushed off the feeling with a shake of his head and smiled again.

“Can you take me to Omega?”

“Uhh…Yeah. Yeah, no problem. Gives me an excuse to get out of laundry duty.”

The Sibling scooped the dropped sheets up and into the basket.

Dew followed closely the excitement of seeing his ghouls growing the longer the two walked. They stopped outside of the infirmary.

“He’s in here, but I should probably tell y—“

He didn’t hear what the Sibling said as he burst through the door, “Omega! Look who’s back from the dead!”

He started to pop his head into each room with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Dewdrop?”

He whipped around with a little ‘mmrr’ and saw a silver mask staring at him from the last room’s doorway. He called out Omega’s name as he practically pounced on him

“I’m back! I’m here! We… I did it.” He smiled up at Omega, unable to control the way his tail twitched. The large quintessence ghoul brought a hand to hold Dew’s face.

“Dewdrop,” His voice was mixed with disbelief, relief, and awe, but there was something else under it all. Dew sniffed the air and narrowed his eyes. He had to focus for a moment to decipher the scent. His sense of smell wasn’t as strong as it was, but when he realized what he was smelling was grief his eyes widened. That’s when the second scent hit him. Ifrit. His eyes flicked up to Omega’s, but it was impossible to read him with the mask on. He tried to crane his neck to see through the door, standing on the tips of his toes to try to peek around Omega.

“Don’t.”

He put his hands on Dew’s shoulders to stop him.

“Omega, who’s in there?” He started to feel a heat rise in him.

“That’s not important.”

He squeezed Dew’s shoulders harder before he had to let go with a hiss. He took the opportunity to dive under Omega’s arm and into the room. Smoked rolled off him as he did so.

He felt another spike of heat in his body when he saw Ifrit in the bed, drowning in various blankets.

Unconscious.

He looked pale. His breathing was barely noticeable. Dew felt like he was smoldering as he whipped around to face Omega.

“Not important? Not important! Why wouldn’t he be important?!” The heat was so intense now, it made Omega flinch slightly

“What happened to him?! Who did this to him, was it Imperator?” He growled when Omega didn’t respond immediately, “Satan fucking dammit, answer me!”

“You’re melting the floor.”

“What?” He sounded genuinely confused.

Omega nodded down to his feet. Dew followed his eyes and saw that he was right, the floor under his feet was starting to melt. The ends of the sheet he had been wearing were singed as well. He gasped and felt the heat immediately disappear. He looked back up at Omega with big eyes.

“Mega, I-I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” He turned back towards Ifrit, “Please… What happened to him?” Omega came up behind him and experimentally reached a hand out to him before pulling him into his side.

“He made sure you survived.”

“What?”

“He spent all day pouring his fire into you. He didn’t stop. Not even when Mountain tried to pull him away. We found him passed out when we went to check on you both. That was about fifteen minutes ago.”

Dew was rigid next to Omega. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Ifrit’s body. He used up his flame on me?

“Will he be okay?” His voice was sharper than he intended.

He sighed, “I don’t know. Aether and I will be taking shifts trying to wake him, in the meantime all we can do is try to keep him warm.”

Dew huffed and pushed out of Omega’s grip and jumped rather unceremoniously into the bed.

“Dew what are—”

“You said to keep him warm right? It’s not like I can burn him.”

Omega stared for a moment before nodding. Dew curled close to Ifirt and hissed when he felt just how cold he was. Omega sat in the chair next to the bed and got back to using his quintessence to find the string that would bring Ifrit back to the world.

There in the bed, Dew finally started to feel the repercussions of his transition into fire. His joints were aching. He felt like he was starving. He didn’t know if the headache he felt creeping in was because of that or because of his horn. He felt his eyes start to droop when he heard Omega get out of the chair.

The last thing he heard before closing his eyes was, “You look gorgeous, Dewdrop.”

~~~

He groaned when he felt something sharp poke him. He waved his hand and turned over in bed. He only opened his eyes when he felt it poke him again with a bit more force. Mountain was looking down at him with the softest smile Dew had ever seen on the earth ghoul. There was a sheen of tears in his eyes.

“Hey droplet.”

Dew reached a shaky hand out to Mountain, who quickly took it and squeezed.

“Hey Mount,” He smiled and yawned. He stretched and froze when he remembered where he was. He shifted to look at Ifrit, hoping he’d be met with his burning eyes. He sighed when he saw there was no change.

“I’m tryin’ my best, Dewy,” His ears perked up when he heard Aether’s voice. He looked over to see he had taken the spot where Omega was seated before he fell asleep. He looked between the two bigger ghouls with a growing smile.

“I…both of you…” He fumbled for the words before deciding it would be easier to just show them. He squeezed Mountain’s hand harder before pressing a kiss to it causing a low purr to kick up in his chest. He tried to reach over to Aether, but he shook his head lightly.

“Can’t. Gotta focus for him.”

Dew’s ears drooped for a moment before he felt Mountain’s gigantic hands run through his hair. He leaned into the touch with a soft purr. He scratched his scalp lightly.

“Hey Mount, don’t you owe me an explanation?” Dew purred.

He tilted his head before a look of realization crossed his face, “You really wanna hear about the trees?”

“Just wanna hear your voice,” He mumbled.

Mountain laughed before he began to go on a tangent about the specifics as to why he chose the different types of wood for the ritual. Dew was only half paying attention, not because he wasn’t interested, but rather because the rhythmic roll of Mountain’s hand through his hair combined with his new higher body temperature was lulling him to sleep. After a while, he felt the earth ghoul’s hand stop.

“Are you paying attention, Dewy?”

“Yeah, yeah, something about rebirth,” His eyes were closed as he mumbled his response.

Aether slapped his hands on his knees before standing with a stretch, “That’s all I’m able to do for the night,” He looked between Mountain and Dew “Dinner?”

Mountain nodded and got up and started following him, but stopped when he realized Dew hadn’t moved.

Aether followed his eyes, “Dew? You coming?”

He shook his head. He wanted to, but he couldn’t leave Ifrit. Not when he may be the only thing to bring his flame back. Mountain and Aether looked between each other.

“Do you want us to bring you something?” The earth ghoul offered. Dew nodded, curling close to Ifrit.

The two ghouls returned after some time with a tray of food for Dew. He immediately perked up from where he was falling in and out of sleep on top of Ifrit at the scent. He sat up carefully and stared at the tray put before him. Suddenly, he remembered just how hungry he was. He dove into the plates of various meats and vegetables practically swallowing everything whole. Aether had to remind him to actually chew his food when he choked on some potatoes. Even after he finished the whole tray, he still felt this hunger deep within him. He ignored it, though, in favor of letting Aether come over to pick him up. He pressed a kiss into his hair, “I still can’t believe you came back to us.”

“‘Course I did,” Dew murmured into his shoulder, “You’d all be lost and sad without me.”

Aether responded by burying his face in his hair and inhaling his scent. Cinnamon, he mused to himself.

The two stayed like that for a while, with Mountain occasionally coming over to run a hand over Dew’s head when he wasn’t busy with using various herbs to try and rouse Ifrit. Aether chuckled to himself when he realized Dew was practically passed out in his arms. He began to leave the room with the intention of carrying him back to the den. When Dew realized this, he began to freak out causing the heat in him to rise so quickly it made him feel sick. Aether hissed and dropped Dew on instinct to get away from the burning temperature. Dew fumbled his way as quickly as he could back into the bed with Ifrit’s body. He shook his head rapidly trying to clear his vision from the haze that came with his flare up.

Mountain was next to Aether, making sure he wasn’t actually burned by Dew. Aether pushed him off insisting he was fine before approaching the bed. Dew hissed as he approached with smoke pouring out of his mouth. Aether stopped immediately with his hands held up. Dew gasped when he saw the expression on Aether’s face and the heat immediately dissolved.

“Aeth, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I can’t leave.”

He felt sick. From the rapid spike of his new element to the idea that he actually hurt one of his packmates.

Aether’s expression softened.

“Okay,” Was all he said. He could sense the determination steaming within Dew. He knew it would be fruitless to try and persuade him to leave, that there was not much even he could do for Ifrit let alone Dew. It’s not like much harm could come from letting him share a bed with Ifrit, it was probably better to keep him in one area while he got used to his fire anyways. Mountain looked like he was going to protest, but Aether just put a gentle hand on his shoulder. The earth ghoul looked at him and understood. He sighed and gave Dew a kiss on the forehead.

“Try not to light the bed on fire.”

Mountain lingered for just a moment before turning to leave. Aether watched him go before sighing. It was getting late, even for him.

“I’ll bring you some clothes on my next shift. Omega will be here soon.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

Aether looked taken aback “Why would I be afraid of you, droplet?”

Cause I almost burnt you. Cause I can’t control myself. Cause I’m an abomination. His heart dropped at the last thought. That’s not true… Was it? I’m still me. He shook his head rapidly as if doing so would clear everything from his head.

“No reason. Forget I asked.”

He couldn’t understand why he suddenly felt this way. Aether looked at him for a long moment before leaving a gentle kiss on Dew’s lips, “Get some rest… Little firecracker.”

Dew smiled. He liked the sound of that. He watched as Aether left, he felt his face fall the moment the door to the room was closed behind him. He curled on top of Ifrit and whispered to him “Come on Frit, wake up. I can’t do this without you. You promised.”

He stared at him half expecting his eyes to fly open now that they were alone. He sighed and rested his head on his chest when nothing happened. Dew fell into an uneasy sleep, pressed close to Ifrit.

~~~

True to his own word, Dew did not leave Ifrit’s side. He stayed wrapped around him for almost a week with Aether and Omega going back and forth trying to wake him. They would bring Dew clean clothes and food and occasionally coax him out of the bed to examine him making sure his body was holding up with the transition. Dew would spend his time talking to Ifrit with the hope that he could hear him. He had also been given a few candles to practice his fire magic on after Omega had walked in on Dew trying and failing at putting out a small fire he accidentally started when moving the flowers Mountain brought.

He got comfortable in this routine. That was until he woke up from the deepest sleep he’s had in awhile. He immediately knew something was wrong upon waking up.

The bed is empty. Why is the bed empty?!

He jumped up, eyes frantically searching the room expecting Ifrit to be standing or sitting somewhere. When he realized there was nothing, he sprinted out of the infirmary. He ran all the way to the ghoul den. Thankfully there was no one in the common area as he burst through the doors. Too early for any ghouls to be awake. He ran through the hallways until he was outside of Ifrit’s room. He paused, sucking in air and stared at the door.

Should I knock? Oh fuck it.

He slammed the door open and the sight before him felt worse than dying. The room was empty. No, not empty. It was barren. Not only was Ifrit nowhere to be seen, but all his things were gone. The room looked as if no one had ever even lived in it.

“Dewdrop.”

He whipped around and saw no other than Omega in the doorway with Aether, Mountain, and Mist hanging in the hallway behind him.

“Where is he?” He could feel himself start to simmer. He took a deep breath trying to control it.

“Omega, where is he?” He couldn’t read anything with that damned silver mask.

“I’m sorry, Dewdrop,” He sounded genuinely remorseful walking slightly closer to the little fire ghoul, “He’s gone.”

Gone.

He refused to believe it.

“You’re lying. He’s not gone. He was fine! He just needed to wake up!”

He was babbling, trying to rationalize, but his mind was blanking.

“He’s not lying, Dew. Ifrit is gone.” He stared slack jawed at Mist. Her gaze was hard. He’d never seen her look like that in the entire time he’d known her. Dew sat down hard on the edge of the bare bed in the middle of the room.

“What happened to him? I was there the whole time.”

Omega approached and crouched in front of him to put a hand on his shoulder.

“We…I had to send him back to the Pits. His flame was gone, Dewdrop. If he stayed up here any longer he would’ve died.”

He wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or not. On one hand he wasn’t dead, but on the other there was no way to guarantee that any of them would ever see him again. The heat was bleeding out of Dew now, but Omega didn’t remove his hand. Dew felt a small spark before he felt the heat die down within him. His mind felt calm, clear. He relished the feeling for a moment before he realized something.

“Omega… I was in that bed this whole time. How did you send him back?”

Dew actually felt him tense. He narrowed his eyes at him and slapped his hand off his shoulder.

“Omega?”

“Please forgive me, Dewdrop.”

Dew had a sick feeling. It was no coincidence that that night had been the deepest sleep he’s ever had.

“You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.” His voice started to raise and it was laced with accusation. When Omega didn’t react Dew had all the confirmation he needed. His eyes glowed like embers smoke rolling off of him.

“Why did you do it?! I deserved to be there! I deserved to see him one last time!”

He would’ve been crying if it wasn’t for how hot he was starting to run.

“Because he asked me to.”

“What?”

“You really think I wanted to send him back? That I would’ve used my quintessence like that? No. It’s because he asked me to.”

Dew started at Omega with narrowed eyes. He couldn’t understand what he meant.

Ifrit woke up? Why didn’t he want to see him?

Omega could see the questions bubbling behind Dew’s eyes so he indulged him.

“He woke up on his own. He told me he felt empty, that all he wanted to do was go back. He told me not to wake you because if I did he knew he would’ve lost his resolve.”

Dew felt too many emotions and thoughts running through his head. He couldn’t understand what any of it meant.

“He… Asked me to give you this.” In Omega’s hand was the silver grucifix necklace. Seeing it in his claws made something inside Dew snap. He felt the reality of what he was being told. In a moment of grief and anger Dew growled and swiped at Omega’s face with his claws

“Don’t touch that!”

Omega grunted as his mask was knocked off his face. He reached a hand up quickly causing him to drop the necklace. The moment it hit the floor the sound brought Dew back into himself. His hand quickly shot to cover his mouth.

“Omega, I'm sorry.”

The other ghouls had run into the room when they saw what happened. Omega shooed them off with a wave of his hand

“I’m fine. Dewdrop I—“

Everything stopped when they heard a creek of the wooden floorboards. Omega quickly put his mask back on and stood looking behind him. In the doorway stood a rather nervous looking Sibling.

“Pardon the intrusion I…was told to come get Omega when the last of the new ghouls were summoned.”

Dew choked on air.

“New ghouls?”

Omega nodded, ignoring Dew “Thank you Sibling. We’ll be right there.”

Omega clenched his fists and flexed his claws a few times before leaving the room, expecting the other ghouls to follow him.

Dew turned to the others, searching for an answer, “What do they mean other ghouls?”

“They wanted to start fresh, remember?” Mist’s voice was quiet and laced with venom when she responded.

She turned to look at him, “Get your fire under control. You’re their lead now.”

She didn’t wait for a response as she stalked out of the room. That comment made his blood run cold. She was right. Now that Ifrit was gone, now that he held the power of fire he was meant to be the leader. His hands shook as he reached down to grab the necklace and put it on. As he did this, the last words he heard from Ifrit rang through his head.

“Be their light, Dewdrop.”

He walked silently out of the room, with Mountain and Aether quickly following behind him. They tried talking to him as they made their way to the summoning room, but he didn’t hear them. He was stuck in his own head, thinking too hard about everything that had happened in the past week, the past hour. He wasn’t himself anymore. He constantly snapped when things seemed to not go his way. He hurt Omega. He felt like there was someone else in his head and body. How was he supposed to take care of a whole pack when he could barely take care of himself? When he couldn’t even take care of Ifrit when he actually needed him. He had to fight to keep his heat and smoke inside as they entered the summoning room.

Dew focused on keeping his face even as he watched Mountain and Aether go to greet the newest members of the pack. He couldn’t bring himself to go over and talk.

What’s the point, He thought, When they could be replaced on a whim?

He made a face and shook his head, trying to clear the thought. He hadn't noticed that one of the new ghouls was approaching him until he was standing right in front of him.

“Trouble in paradise?” A deep voice asked him lightheartedly.

His eyes snapped up to meet the ghoul’s. There was a wide grin on his stubbled face. He was dressed in the ceremonial robes all new ghouls got when first summoned.

“Excuse me?” He asked sharply, bewildered as to why this ghoul approached him only to tease him.

His grin fell only slightly.

“Nothin’. You seemed… Oh, what’s the word humans use? Sad? Angry? Is there a word for sad and angry?”

Dew huffed with indignation, “I am not sad or angry.”

“Oh, so you’re broody!” The ghoul seemed proud of his word choice.

He felt his cheeks flush, “Broody? I’m not— ugh,” he signed, “What do I call you? Other than annoying.”

“Swiss Army ghoul,” He stuck out his hand. Dew looked down at it and then back up at him. The ghoul coughed and brought his hand back to his side when Dew didn’t take it. The fire ghoul raised an eyebrow.

“Okay. Swiss. Who’s idea was that?” He said it more to himself, but Swiss answered anyways.

“His,” He tilted his head in the direction of a man in a red cassock who seemed to be attempting to teach two air ghoulettes what a handshake was. Dew’s eyebrows furrowed in a moment of confusion

The Cardinal? Shouldn’t Terzo be the one here?

He was about to make a comment when his eyes fell on the last of the new ghouls.

“Multi.”

“Swiss Army ghoul.”

“Swiss. Who is that?”

He followed the direction he was looking

“Oh the water ghoul? I think they called him Rain. He’s hot right?”

Dew was feeling hot but for all the wrong reasons. He looked at that water ghoul and all he saw was what he once was. He felt the smoke start to release from his skin at the sight of him smiling at Mountain and Aether. He had to get away from him. He turned and left the summoning room with a slam of the door, ignoring the questions from Swiss.

Why in Satan’s name did they summon another water ghoul? Wasn’t Mist enough? Wasn’t I enough before they mutilated me?

He stormed his way back to the ghoul den, locking himself in his room once he arrived. His fire was rising too fast for his body to keep up. He tried to release some of the energy by lighting all the candles in his room in one go but he still felt too hot. He clutched the grucifix necklace and tried to take deep breaths, and do what Aether showed him. He began to look around his room, trying to get the look of that water ghoul out of his head. He began to search the Polaroids he had started to tape to his walls. His temperature started to even out as he gazed at the various pictures of the pack on his very first tour. He smiled as each picture made him remember stupid little details of each location. He walked over to the wall to get a better look at them. His eyes continued to search before they fell on one in particular.

It was a group photo. Ifrit had his arm around Zephyr’s shoulder pulling him into frame. Mountain and Aether were crouched in front, each had a hand on Dew who was squished in between them.

Dewdrop felt a heat so intense it was almost cold. In that moment seeing all that had been ripped away from him in such a short time his flame engulfed him. He screamed as he clawed all the pictures off the wall. The images became distorted with the proximity to his heat, which only seemed to anger Dew more. He couldn’t keep it all in anymore, he couldn’t keep extinguishing the fire. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore as he tore apart his room in a fit of rage and mourning. He only stopped when he realized he had singed the rug underfoot. He had just enough control left in him to understand that he needed to cool off before he burnt half the Ministry to the ground, but he didn’t know what to do. The fire constantly felt like too much for him; he didn't know how to make it stop when it got started. He desperately wished Ifrit was there with him to show him how.

The only thing he could think to do was what worked before. He stomped off to the bathroom that was connected to his room with the intention of sitting under the shower until he felt better. He flicked on the light and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his reflection. It was only then that it occurred to him that not once had he seen himself since the transition. He wished he hadn’t. All he saw staring back at him was a ghoul he didn’t recognize. All he saw were Ifrit’s eyes.

He didn’t remember what happened after that. The next thing he knew, Aether was crouched over him gently holding his hand, simultaneously picking glass out of it and using his quintessence to stop the bleeding. Mountain was shuffling around his room trying his best to clean everything up. He looked up from where he was laying next to the tub and saw his mirror was shattered. He turned his attention back to Aether when he heard him speak.

“Where’s your head at, Dew?”

“Aether? What happened?”

The quintessence ghoul pressed a kiss to his hand when he pulled the last of the glass out and all the bleeding stopped.

“I’m wondering the same thing, Droplet. Mount and I came looking for you when we heard you leave. We found you trying to hide in the bathtub. It was like you didn’t recognize us… You—” He stopped himself.

“I what, Aeth..?” He urged as softly as he could, but there was still a sharpness to it.

“You… Attacked Mountain.” Dew’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t panic! It wasn’t bad! And I was able to heal him!”

At that, Mountain popped his head into the bathroom and smiled down at Dew.

“Well most of me.” There was a noticeable notch in his right ear. He crouched in front of Dew, who tried to back away, but Mountain took his other hand in his. He guided it up to his face.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, Dewy, but it doesn’t make us love you any less.”

He tried to pull away, afraid that he would somehow hurt him again. Mountain only wrapped his tail around his leg.

“I’m not going anywhere. Neither of us are. Nothing you do is going to change that.”

Aether pressed another kiss to his hand.

“I’m sorry for not seeing it sooner. I should’ve known. I should’ve felt it.”

Dew shook his head, “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I just want everything to be how it was.”

Even he could hear the shake in his voice.

Mountain moved closer to press a kiss to his cheek. “I know, but no matter what we do it’s not going to be the same,” He paused to clear his throat, “But it can be just as good. Different, but good. We just have to try.”

Dew gazed at him for a moment before slumping into his chest with a whine.

“Can I try tomorrow?” He mumbled into him. There was a moment of silence before both Aether and Mountain chuckled.

The earth ghoul stood, scooping up Dew as he did so.

“Sure, Dewy. Tomorrow it is.”

He carried him to his bed as Aether cleaned up the rest of the bathroom. When he was done, he locked the door before curling on the opposite side of him. Dew felt calm with the weight of the two large ghouls sandwiching him in. The three decided their daily chores weren’t as important as laying in bed together, having a much needed talk about everything that’s happened in the last two weeks and fantasizing about what this new era will hold. They all made a promise, though, that when one of them was feeling like it was all too much they’d all stop whatever it is they had been doing and do exactly what they were doing now. Talking, just existing in one another’s presence. Reminding each other that not everything has fallen apart.

Dew couldn’t be more grateful for how patient and persistent the two others were, how forgiving. Whatever he was going through wouldn’t be cured by a cuddle session, but it helped a lot more than he’d ever admit. He murmured his appreciation to them before falling asleep, exhausted by the massive surge of energy. He felt safe closing his eyes, knowing that if anything happened, Mountain and Aether would be right there. Always.

[allegra-writes]

"The Lesson"

Claimed series Part V

Armand x Daniel Molloy

NSFW

Warnings: Oof, let's see. Somnophilia, non-con elements, minor character death. I mean it, Daniel and Armand basically molest a sleeping or otherwise unable to consent woman, literally consume her as a meal and then proceed to get hot and heavy right next to her corpse. It is pretty misogynistic and I felt very uncomfortable writing it at times, but there is a plot reason for things to unfold the way they do this chapter. However, if any of this themes makes you uncomfortable, please do not read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable character, and for legal reasons I won't be accepting tips for this story or any story set in Anne Rice's Immortal Universe. Thank you!

MY MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

They came in through the window, like the nightmare creatures they both were now. Armand first, of course, Daniel was still as clumsy as a newborn calf taking its first steps on a barn floor when it came to the flying gift, so naturally, his maker was already leaning over the sleeping figure by the time he made it into the room.

It was a nice room, with cream-colored walls and a narrow single bed covered in a deep midnight blue comforter. The closet, bedside table, and small desk were also painted white, to imitate a set, but upon closer inspection, Daniel could see the different styles and materials. Still, the mismatched furniture didn’t take away from the charm of the small space, if anything, it gave a kind of whimsical quality to it. There were makeup tubes and hair pins strewn among old notebooks, a colorful scarf on the back of a chair alongside a maid uniform, evidence of an ordinary, inconsequential life being lived. If life was ever inconsequential, Daniel mused as he examined the rare black orchid plant kept on a faux antique ceramic mug, the titles of the few books in a language he could speak: Radcliffe, Poe, Shelley. He could see what Armand had meant back down the street when he had first caught whiff of the girl, half in love with death indeed.

“Daniel,” Armand’s voice cut through his reverie, “quit your delaying”

Right. They were there because of him, after all.

“Beloved, you need to feed” The older vampire’s tone softened as Daniel reached him, “and I chose her just for you”

And wasn’t that just a whole other level of fucked-up, not only Armand’s words but also the way they affected Daniel, warming him up inside the way only a youthful-looking vampire with cooper eyes and coal-black curls who ordered the entire menu of a fancy restaurant for him, or brought home emeralds and sapphires the size of his thumb because they reminded him of his eyes could? But he was too old now, wasn’t he? To try and pretend to be at war with himself. The very least he could do was refuse to be a hypocrite and admit that, when it came to Armand, all his morals, all his idealism, all the equality and human rights he had fought so hard for his entire career, simply flew out the window. What did those matter anyway, when he wasn’t human anymore?

As in a trance, Daniel walked ahead to meet his would-be-prey.

She was lovely. Long brown hair spread on white pillows, older than his daughters -thank god for the small mercies- and paler too, all milky skin so thin he could see the veins running under it, a web of blue and purple strings pulsing with life and heat. Daniel’s throat went dry, the hollow inside his stomach growing deep and black and endless. He felt lightheaded, the weak, slow beat of his own heart reverberating in his ears. Reluctantly, Daniel had to admit to the hunger.

“She’s beautiful”

“She’s perfect” Armand corrected, as if offended by the imaginary implications that he would pick anything less than top quality for his fledgling. Daniel realized she truly was, the shape of her voluptuous and undeniably seductive under the light sheets, enticing in her trusting, helpless sleep. Was this how Armand had felt looking at Daniel? All those nights, so many years ago, when he would wake up to his demonic lover’s weight on top of him, buried fangs deep, cock deep inside of him? Had he looked like this, so innocent, so defenseless, so ripe for the taking?

The girl’s eyes fluttered underneath her eyelids, stirring under Daniel’s gaze as if even in her unconscious state she was aware of the danger. But the soft stroking of Armand’s knuckles against her cheek was all it took for her to settle again, relaxing into the mattress, lips parting as she sighed in contentment.

Armand leaned to place a chaste, almost sweet kiss on her forehead.

"Come nearer, beloved," his maker commanded, hands never stopping their gentle stroking of that warm, pink skin, "focus your attention on her. Can you hear it? Do you feel it?"

It wasn’t hard, to find her heartbeat and let it capture him. To let the half-formed whispers from her mind reach his, even in her sleep, her melancholy, her sadness, her indefinable longing.

“She yearns for it, the rapture, the embrace, something she has only but glimpsed in her dreams, but has slipped from her like water through her fingers,” Armand explained, “yet she knows it exists… Wouldn’t it be cruel, Daniel? To allow her to go on without it, bereft in the isolating wasteland of modern existence, unsatisfied, victim of brute men and their rough deceivings, abusing of her passion and neglecting her?”

If Armand expected a reply, he was left wanting it. Daniel was incapable of replying, mesmerized as he was by the graceful movements of his maker’s hands as it glided over the sleeping beauty in his arms, tossing aside sheets, pushing up her sleeping shirt, uncovering more and more skin as it went.

“Our embrace, my beautiful boy, can penetrate that isolation, can delve into the root of her soul, we can give her that ecstasy she craves. It would only be fair, you see, in return for the precious elixir of her blood…”

“Return?” Daniel frowned, even as his eyes were still glued to the place Armand’s fingers were digging into the supple flesh of her inner thigh, sliding down until they could hook around her knee, parting her legs for him to see.

“Yes, Daniel, in return” He could hear the amused smile in Armand’s voice, “If you thought I brought you here to feast on her sweet, unpolluted blood and give her only darkness for all reward, you misunderstood the whole affaire”

There was a connection there, some parallel to be drawn between all those threesomes back in the seventies, letting Daniel watch Louis feed from him, and what he was proposing now, but Daniel’s mind was too muddled by hunger and desire to be able to examine it. Too far gone to even consider the ethics of what he was witnessing, as Armand popped the buttons of the girl's shirt one by one, baring full breasts and pink nipples to Daniel’s ravenous stare. Armand’s eyes were just as greedy, making sure he had all of his fledgling’s attention before lowering his head to trail open-mouthed kisses down the woman’s neck and chest, and breasts, letting his fangs nip at the delicate skin of her areola, only lapping at the drop of blood that sprung from the tiny cut once it slid down the curve of her tit. The sleeping girl arched her back, the softest of sighs leaving her mouth, and Armand rewarded her by bringing one of his hands down to tease at her covered crotch with the pad of his thumb, a wet patch quickly darkening the light cotton.

“Would you like to sample, Daniel?” The dark-haired vampire asked, the very image of sin with his blood-stained lips and naughty little smirk. Throat too dry for speech, Daniel nodded.

Instead of offering up her wrist or her neck as he expected, his maker slid his hand inside her panties. Daniel watched it move obscenely under the fabric as Armand fingered her for a few moments, before taking his hand out and offering him the glistening digits for him to suck clean.

Obediently, Daniel crawled towards him, taking the proffered fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste. It wasn't as good as blood, at least, Daniel didn't think it was. The truth was in the forty-six hours he had been a vampire, Armand’s blood was the only one he had tasted. His maker had fed, oh, he had fed plenty, it was obvious by the searing heat emanating from him and by the flush darkening his brown skin, probably sneaking out to hunt while Daniel still slept. But he had only drunk from Armand. Their time since he had first woken up as a member of the undead was spent in a feverish haze of animal, lustful sex, and little drinks from each other. Still, Daniel imagined if there was something to come even remotely close to the blood, it was this, this sweet, almost cloying nectar from their delectable little bride.

Armand smiled at him adoringly, approvingly.

“After all these years, all the distance between us… you are still my good boy, aren’t you, Daniel?”

Before any reply could take shape inside his head, the lovely beauty trapped between them woke up with a start. Daniel could feel her confusion give way to terror, and then to recognition as she took in the monstrous apparitions sharing her bed. It was a surreal thing, to be able to spy, but only partly, on the silent conversation taking place in front of him.

“It’s you, it’s really you… I dreamed of you… No, I’m not afraid… I knew you would come, I knew both of you would come”

It was her the one to initiate the kiss, even if Armand was the one to gently push her into Daniel’s arms, she was the one to part her lips and slip her tongue inside the mouth of the young immortal, moaning as she cut herself on his fang in her eagerness to taste death.

The first taste of her blood was a revelation. It was like sunshine flooding his veins, waking his senses back to life, bringing everything into an even sharper focus. Even time seemed to move slower as he departed from her candied, wet mouth and sank his fangs into her dainty little neck.

There was a struggle, at the beginning. After the initial sobering stab of white-hot pain, she twisted and scratched and beaten at Daniel’s chest with all her might, but her feeble human strength was no match for a vampire, not even one as young as Daniel was, and soon enough she gave into the swoon, letting Daniel press her close to his chest. Letting the hard pebbles of her nipples rub against him, arching her back for him as she melted into his embrace, pliant and supple again. Letting her heat warm Daniel’s lifeless body. Letting her pulse feed Daniel’s veins with every beat, letting his heart feast on her own.

He caught a glimpse of the enchanting dream Armand had woven for her, of the slightly damp moss she laid upon as a fresh breeze graced her skin, of the crickets and forest creatures serenading her to sleep under the night sky bejeweled with the stars she loved so dearly, before her mind faded completely.

“That’s enough, lover mine” Armand coaxed, voice soft but firm, “let her go, lest she drags you into that gentle goodnight with her”

Daniel found that was easier said than done. Letting go of her was as difficult as leaving a cozy bed on a cold winter morning, but Armand’s insistent hands left him no choice but to comply. A soft thumb swept over his lower lip.

“So messy…” Armand mused before licking the blood off his chin and mouth, and yes, that was the taste Daniel had craved for all this time, better than the swoon, better than the blood, the sweetest taste was his maker, his Armand. It was as easy and natural as muscle memory to pull him in on top of him and guide him to straddle his legs. Even after all those years, after all he had changed both in life and in death, Armand still fitted with him like a puzzle piece, like a perfectly tailored suit, meant just for him. It was only right, to feel Armand’s possessive touch under his t-shirt, those impossibly soft fingertips trailing his ribs one by one, the scrap of those glass-like nails sending shivers over his entire body.

Daniel’s own hands weren’t idle either, bunching up Armand’s sweater to his armpits so Daniel could suck and bite at those sensitive nipples and hear the pornographic sounds Armand always made when he focused on that particular part of his anatomy.

“Love these tits” Daniel growled low and dirty against Armand’s skin, “prettier than any girl’s”

Armand’s moan was filthy as he tugged at Daniel’s hair hard enough to rip some strands from his scalp, making him almost dizzy with want, if such a thing were possible for a creature of the night. But Armand was so fucking perfect, so hungry for it, hips rolling against Daniel’s, hands ripping his shirt off his body, Daniel couldn’t help but think, for the millionth time, he was going to be his undoing.

“Hey! I liked that t-shirt” He protested, lying through his teeth cuz the truth was he couldn’t give a crap about the old, faded, grey piece of clothing. He simply wanted to hear Armand say:

“I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll buy you a thousand shirts just so I can tear them to shreds to unwrap you” Just like the old times, “You are my gift from Louis, my beautiful boy”

“Am I?” Daniel replied, defiant as always, “Why don’t you tie me up all tight and pretty with a bow then? What you waiting for?”

"So impertinent" Armand tsked, sliding his hand inside Daniel’s jeans in retaliation, "I would punish your insolence, but I know you'd only enjoy it"

Whatever reply hung on the tip of Daniel’s quick tongue, it was left unsaid as Armand’s fingers closed around his length.

It was still as intense, as electrifying, as debilitating as the first time. Daniel couldn’t help to throw his head back, his neck suddenly too weak to support his swooning head. Armand’s hand against his nape, however, pulled him back into place, probably so Daniel wouldn’t get a glance at the quickly cooling corpse right next to him.

“No, keep your eyes open, beloved. I want you to look” He commanded, sounding as breathless as Daniel felt. It wasn’t a hassle to obey, though, not when Armand was taking his own cock out of his pants, thick and long and pulsing with borrowed blood, Daniel couldn’t have taken his eyes off of it even if he had wanted to. And he certainly didn’t want to.

Armand spat on his hand then, nasty and vulgar, before wrapping his hand around both their members. Fingers unable to surround both girths at the same time, he started slowly pumping his hand up and down, in the rhythm that was sure to drive Daniel mad.

What the technique might have lacked in physical stimulation, more than made up for in visuals, the image of Armand’s cock pressed against his, longer, leaking all over his, the contrast of his bronze skin against his, stone white and washed out, they way it seemed to grow and fill even more before his eyes, the way the veins popped…

“Armand…” Daniel pleaded, without knowing what for, “Need… I need”

“Yes, beloved” Armand replied, guiding Daniel’s face to his neck, “here, from my throat”

It was just what the fledgling needed, shuddering with the force of his release the very instant his maker’s blood hit his tongue.

“Yes, like that” Armand husked, the rhythm of his hand growing more and more erratic, the longer Daniel drank, “harder, take it all…”

Daniel bit down deeper, sinking his human teeth on the hard flesh, tearing muscle up, making Armand explode, copious amounts of hot fluid bathing his cock, splashing on his stomach.

He retracted his fangs then, but kept lapping at the open, messy wound with his tongue, relishing in the waves of both aftershocks combined, refusing to let the link between their minds shut down again, holding Armand’s shivering body close against his, uncaring of the mess. There was a desperation, a deep melancholy emanating from Armand’s thoughts as he came down, the same bone aching loneliness he had caught a glimpse of the very first time they had come together at that bar, eliciting the same ferocious devotion in him, and he suddenly understood…

The dance was finally over.

Daniel’s destiny had finally been fullfilled. The devil’s minion through and through, born, dead and reborn, at last reaching his final form. Forever servant and master to the ageless creature clinging to him.

Don’t let me go, it begged, don't ever let me go.

I won’t, Daniel vowed, knowing in his blood there would be no running away for him.

I won’t, a promise and a threat, I love you.

I love you, a blessing and a curse, I love you.

Forever.

Next part (back to 1973)

[burinazar]

...

this is the last time i'll talk about the kpop mia thing i promise. i pinky promise. just have to get this off my chest. (post contains mentions of Unpleasant fanservice elements with underage characters in other shows, not terribly detailed but they are described.)

Imagine if every time someone said they liked Gainax’s beloved mecha classic Gunbuster everyone who heard them assumed it was specifically because of that one locker room scene that is in there more prominently than the scenes of nudity in MiA and feature more visible, more detailed, and more prolonged underage nudity and quite unambiguously exists for the sake of titillation alone

imagine if mentioning you were a Fate fan caused everyone to think you were watching it for the little girls making out in Prisma Ilya or the microbikini-clad underage version of Jack the Ripper in FGO. or saying you liked Gurren Lagann immediately caused people to come running with that one interview where a staff writer randomly said Yoko is 14 while most of the merchandise featuring her is heavily focused on sexualization and fanservice, retroactively rendering the show's many many fanservice scenes with her highly questionable for reasons lying totally outside its established canon

or to take a break from objectionable sexualization even though that's the internet's favorite subject: what if every LOGH fan was assumed to share Tanaka's potential tendency of according validity of Great Man Theory or take an uncritical view of the authoritative military autocracies like the one Reinhard establishes amid a mostly positive framing in the story. there are definitely fans that do this by the way but good lord i can't imagine someone assuming the entire fandom does instead of being prone to creating many healthily-critical diatribes questioning the above, even alongside our great love of the characters of the story and the overall work

like nobody assumes these things because it’s widely agreed there’s lots of other good shit in there for all of those shows, and many fans enjoy them without liking and thumbs-upping everything in it. so can you give us Giant Hole Show Liker People that bare minimum of consideration. huh.

like. man. i’m not out here standing by everything in MiA as something I am pleased is in it — like, fucking duh i’m not, since everyone who’s heard me rant about how the otherwise consistent and fantastically delineated theme of “condemning and inspecting a world that exploits innocents for its advancement and those who partake in this” is veritably kneecapped by some of s1’s dumbass lolisho fanservice moments (that Tsukushi just haaaad to throw in, where trauma and humiliation is thrown into casual everyday life montages and brushed off as funny-sexy), knows perfectly well how i feel about them.

but I’m so so tired of people not affording the fans any consideration that we might like The Fucking Rest Of It when there’s way more mainstream things with worse-or-as-bad elements of underage fanservice whose fandom isn’t assumed to be there primarily for the worst bits of fan service.

like can you just accord people the grace of potentially being human beings with complex opinions and well developed reasoning skills and nuanced opinions

[m1d-45]

OHOHOHOHOHOH CRYO ANON…. MIDAS….. UR MINDS. i raise you this in exchange: creator having major trust issues even when (insert character) assures you that you’re safe, that nobody’s going to hurt you anymore.

you have nightmares almost every night, either of things that already happened in the imposter hunt or of everybody around you finally dropping the charade. you’re not sure which one’s worse. both have you waking up in a cold sweat to a dark room (you don’t scream anymore. you managed to stop sometime during the hunt.)

especially in the early days, you make several attempts at escaping with varying levels of success. it gets to the point where someone has to be assigned to stay with you because everybody’s so nervous about you running off like a frightened stray animal.

the comparison isn’t a far stretch, either. they learn early on that they can’t rush to approach you or else you’ll shy away, anemo swirling around you as if the wind itself is snarling and showing its fangs in your stead. they learn that you won’t eat in front of them, choosing to either wait until you’re alone or save your food in hidden spots.

you’re a bit more partial to the one who saved you. sort of. at the very least, they’re able to get a bit closer before you startle. it isn’t much, but considering everything, isn’t that more than they can even ask for?

(wehhhh….. oh imposter au my beloved) - teddy anon

YOU. <3

at the risk of sounding deranged, bitter and afraid and flighty reader after the hunt is such a cool concept. please, give me more of reader flinching when someone holds something out to them from the side, their hands going to their stomach to block the phantom blow. give me more of the followers being guilty yet firm because they need you to trust them, not for their sake but for yours.

and then add in elemental abilities???

once you get ahold of them, you near constantly have a shield up around you. anemo brings you anything you need, and you never reach past the shield around you. it switches, from one day to the next, depending on the nightmare. if you dreamed of bright flames and burning scars, your shield is made of geo. if you dreamed of jagged edges and sharp stone, it’s of anemo. and if, somehow, your nightmares made you fear everything, you lock yourself in you room, refusing food or drink.

(you open a window. a small fox brings you a bundle of berries. two birds carry a water bottle stolen from somewhere. you thank the animals with a smile.)

even after, you still test everything the followers give them. clothing is washed twice and inspected for thorns, a small leaf tucked into your thumb tests your drinks for poison, a special plant that you’d (unintentionally) made that reacts with every single toxin that’s been slipped into the rivers before, forming a bitter compound.

(you don’t drink bitter drinks for this exact reason. it still triggers a negative reaction, your body crying in rejection. any tea you have is made with double sugar to ensure any strain of sour is because of a drug, not because of the natural taste.)

still, you have your favored. the few that you never ran into, or those you like more and are willing to trust a bit easier. the few that are allowed to knock on your door, the few that can hold a semi-conversation without you fleeing. it’s… a marginal difference, but as you said: after what the world has done, what more can they ask for?

[sacredglitch]

i have eeped, woken up and cried

I have some thoughts. MW3 spoilers below.

Major thing out of the way; everyone is gonna experience the campaign at different lengths depending on skill and difficulty they choose. I started around 9/10pm and finished at 5am, so it took me quite some time, predominantly with issues in the Weapons Free missions and the Ally AI just never backing me up? Felt a lil like Rudy in the Ghost Team mission yknow?

But it was a fun experience in gameplay standpoint. There was elements of both MW and MWII alongside some new things that I still gotta get used to once MP drops. But story wise?

Something felt weird. Like it wasn't as consise as MWII with its storytelling. All that took, what? A few days? Maybe even weeks to come to completion. With this game, bar the flashback mission, I never knew how closely related each mission was unless it was explicitly clear, like Passenger and the mission with Farah inspecting the debris. You know that was only hours apart from one another.

Characters also felt a little odd. Like there was moments where it felt like yeah, these are the crew I know and others where it's like....who am I listening to right now? There was just an air of tension with it all, and yes with who they were dealing with ofc there's tension...but idk again the flow wasn't there like the other two games.

Okay elephant in the room; Soap and Makarov. The amount of times Soap was on the verge of whipping out his pistol or knife and just ending it and no one letting him? If Makarov was such a major threat; sometimes the information he may or may not have had just isn't worth it. Thousands would be alive if Johnny was just let loose and take out the trash. But because he wasn't he's now dead.

And Makarov lives. What the fuck, Activision? Infinity Ward? Fucking Sledgehammer?! What was the point of killing off someone who they know damn well is beloved in the fandom (yes, he died in the OG but hear me out) as is his actor, let the baddie get away, and then just....end it with the 141 spreading his ashes. No revenge for Soap, no honouring what he wanted from the beGINNING, no nothing. Just somewhat dull words from the team, his ashes spread and roll credits.

It's giving rushed story for no fucking reason. I wouldn't be so mad if they just did something after that. Sure, one could say this is them building up to MWIV but it also could have been dealt with one more mission. It truly feels like a slap to the face for the fans, cause we know OG Soap's death was agonising but it had its resolution with Price honouring his men.

If this was the second game then it would also make more sense, build up to the conclusion. But no, this was what most of us expected to be the big finale of Makarov and this current story of Modern Warfare, and it wasn't. Just more prolonged waiting that they're probably going to rush to get out next year. It's truly a shame on the big trio working on this game, but also towards the new fans and in my eyes, Neil too. This was his big break in sorts and it's clear by fan interaction he loves being Soap. I'm glad he seems to be the main protagonist of Zombies which makes me hope he'll be in more things or some pre campaign things but damn. Imagine getting the role of a beloved character, giving them an incredible performance just to be shot point blank and given a dull ending. That would make me feel betrayed but ofc I won't speak for Neil, I have 0 clue how he feels on all this. Hell he could be all for it. Just...truly sucks from a fans perspective.

One final thing is the questions and confusion that ig are open ended because whoop de doo another game, more cash for Activision. For starters; who was the 'Shadow' giving Makarov intel? Was it supposed to be Shepard? Considering he was kidnapped and all that would make sense, but Makarov specifically said Shadow. In my eyes if he had meant Shepard, he would have said US Official or something.

Speaking of Shadows; why did Graves sell him out? What's he gonna gain from that? A redemption arc? Fuck that shit I didn't spend almost two hours fighting the tank for him to come back and be all "am sowwy"

Was Urzikstan truly cleared of any wrong doing or is it one of those things where it's like "Welp it's one General's word against our opinions". Also not to get into irl things but seeing some of the stuff during the Passenger mission had me thinking of how the world is currently with certain ongoing fights. Sometimes COD gets the realism down.

Maybe it was because of the situation they were in and how big the threat was, but there wasn't much of a dynamic going on with the teams. At most, there was some Soap and Ghost banter, and then Graves with his Shadows but that was kinda it. No idle chatter just head in the game type of deal. Does make sense ofc but maybe that's why the characters really felt off at times.

One that's just a personal thing; since it's confirmed that at least in 2019, Price, Soap and Ghost knew one another, makes sense cause the trio were SAS, but it's got me thinking why is Ghost the only one allowed to call him Johnny? It was teased in MWII with the interaction in Prison Break but...it's not been elaborated on. Even Price, when Soap was losing his shit over Makarov in the Heli, called him John.

What did Ghost do or say that Soap decided he could allow him to call him Johnny? This isn't anyway me asking "OooOO, are they fruity???" no I'm curious. If it was a thing he allowed his superiors that he was friendly with to say, then Price would be included that. Alejandro and Rudy would be included. What makes Ghost so special?

The last thing that my grief riddled mind can think of is where is Soap's family? I don't think I can truly believe he doesn't have one. It's canon he joined because of his cousin so...why was the 141 the ones to spread his ashes? Again it could have been his wish and all...shit just also adds to the rushed story feeling. I ain't asking for the MacTavishs to make an appearance or be canon or whatever but as someone who has a loved ones ashes, the small urn you get would have made more sense. That they decided with the ashes his family gave them to throw them off the cliffside in what I assume is Scotland.

If he didn't have family then holy shit it makes his death even more hurtful but no way impactful.

I'm just rambling angrly now so I'll stop my thoughts. Overall the game was fun, interesting concept with the Weapons Free missions but the story was lackluster compared to the previous games, as well as a slap to the face for Soap's character. It was just there for the sake of sadness.

I wasn't expecting a happy ending, I was just hoping for a honourable conclusion.

[moonsinkfoxgirl]

mangadex my beloved why in the world is it necessary to use inspect element to download cover art

[dentixvoxel]

inspect element my beloved

[republicsecurity]

A Day in the Life of R23I9: The Charming Heavy Rescue Paramedic

Get ready to swoon because we've got an exclusive peek into the thrilling life of R23I9, the heartthrob heavy rescue paramedic who's not only saving lives but also stealing hearts along the way! Brace yourselves for a day filled with muscles, machines, and a dash of irresistible charm.

With a gentle touch, he opens his sleek sleeping capsule, greeting the day with enthusiasm. And guess what? We were there to witness it all! 🌞💖 Join us for a whirlwind 36-hour shift.

Early Morning: Rise and Shine! As the city begins to stir from its slumber, our dashing hero, R23I9, emerges from his sleeping capsule looking as fresh as a daisy. With a quick stretch and a charming smile, he starts his day, removing his bed linen meticulously to ensure the next person in line enjoys the same comfort he did.

Hygiene and Maintenance: The Cleaning Station Ritual:

R23I9 walks us through the intricacies of the cleaning station, a crucial element in maintaining the hygiene and functionality of the chastity device. His voice carries a mix of nonchalance and matter-of-factness as he elaborates, "The cleaning station is where accountability and support come into play. Another paramedic is present during this process, offering inspection and assistance. It's about ensuring the comfort of our fellow paramedics, preventing chafing or complications."

The Bond of Camaraderie: Inspecting Each Other's Devices:

F2IL0, chiming in with a tone of camaraderie, adds, "Inspecting each other's devices, including the penis and testicles, is a practice embedded in our culture. It's not just about safety; it's about mutual care. We check to make sure our colleagues are comfortable."

Sweat and Mobility

Picture this: a grueling 45-minute stretching and mobility routine that pushes their bodies to the limit. 🏋️‍♂️ I'm talking sweat glistening on their skin, muscles flexing, and determination etched on their faces. It's like a scene straight out of a romance movie, with our crush R23I9 at the center of it all.

R23I9, with his jaw-dropping physique and unwavering focus, leads the pack. His every move is calculated, his dedication inspiring. And did I mention the way his shirt clings to him, showcasing those perfectly toned abs? Swoon 😍

As they bend, stretch, and push themselves to the max, there's an undeniable chemistry in the air. The shared effort, the synchronized movements – it's a dance of passion and discipline that leaves us utterly captivated. And let's not even get started on those stolen glances and lingering touches.

Love Blossoms in Suds: A Shower of Affection! 💦💑

Hold on to your hearts, dear readers, because our beloved paramedic, R23I9, is about to take us on a journey to the steamiest spot in the entire ambulance station: the SHOWER! 😍🚿

After that intense training session that left us all hot and bothered, R23I9 leads us to the shower room where the temperature isn't the only thing rising! Together with another hunky conscript paramedic, they step under the warm cascade of water, their muscles still glistening from their workout. Oh my, can you feel the heat? 🔥

In the intimate confines of the shower, R23I9 and his paramedic buddy share a moment that's as sensual as it is heartwarming. They take turns soaping each other up, their strong hands gliding over slick, wet skin, forming a connection that goes beyond words. It's a dance of trust and camaraderie, a ritual that binds them together in the most intimate way possible. 😘

But the surprises don't end there! As the water cascades over them, they pull out razors and begin to shave each other's heads.

As the city settles into a tranquil night, our dashing hero, R23I9, slips into his Union Suit. The snug fabric clings to his muscular frame, accentuating every contour and leaving us utterly mesmerized. The moonlight casts a gentle glow, creating a captivating silhouette that tells tales of strength, courage, and quiet confidence. 🌙✨💪

Click... Click... Click... The Sound of Love and Protection! 💖🔒

Oh, dear readers, hold onto your hearts, because our paramedic romance is taking a thrilling turn as R23I9 and his paramedic partner step into their formidable ARMOUR SUITS! 🦸‍♂️✨

With a symphony of clicks, the armor pieces are secured, each one symbolizing not only their commitment to their duty but also the growing connection between them. Click... The pants hug their legs, emphasizing their strength and determination. Click... The chastity cage follows, a reminder of the Corps' rules, but also of their shared vulnerability. Click... Boots encase their feet, grounding them in the reality of their mission.

Moving upward, click... the torso and chest protector are fastened, shielding their hearts while allowing room for the love that's blossoming between them.

The familiar sight of their ID tattoos, once proudly displayed, begins to fade beneath the vibrant red of their chest protectors. This transformation symbolizes more than just a change in appearance; it represents their evolution within the Paramedic Corps. Their identities, once marked on their skin for the world to see, are now shielded, hidden behind the crimson barrier of their dedication. As the tattoo vanishes, a new sense of unity and purpose takes its place, binding them together in a way words could never express.

Click... Arms slide into place, and gloves are donned, fingers nimble and ready to save lives. With every audible click, their bond strengthens, each piece of armor sealing their fate together.

In the echoing silence of the armory, the clicks resonate like a heartbeat, syncing theirs in a rhythm only they can understand. It's not just the armor that's clicking into place; it's their souls, aligning with a purpose greater than themselves. Click... Click... The sound echoes through the room, marking the beginning of a new chapter in their paramedic journey.

Morning Chow

With a sense of purpose, our courageous paramedics, R23I9 and F2IL0, grab their helmets, their dedication gleaming in their eyes.

Amidst the chatter, they line up to receive their breakfast rations, a nourishing meal carefully crafted to fuel their bodies for the challenges ahead. As they savor each bite, they exchange smiles and brief conversations, a moment of camaraderie before the day's duties begin in earnest.

Morning meds, a ritual of dedication and care, are dispensed with precision, ensuring their bodies are primed for the challenges of the day ahead. With every pill swallowed, they reaffirm their commitment to their roles as paramedics, their unwavering spirit shining through.

After this essential routine, they proceed to the morning roll call, their heads held high. 🚑🔔🌅

Checks and off we go

With their helmets now securely fastened, R23I9 and the other paramedic swiftly move to the equipment check area. The room is filled with the sounds of clicking as they meticulously inspect their gear, ensuring that every piece of equipment is in perfect working order. Click after click, they confirm the readiness of their tools, a symphony of preparation echoing through the space.

Upon completion of the equipment check, a blaring alarm pierces the air, signaling their first heavy-duty call: a fire. Without hesitation, they rush to the awaiting heavy rescue vehicles, their armored suits gleaming under the station lights.

Click.

The doors of the vehicle slam shut, sealing them inside the protective cocoon of their heavy rescue suits. Click after click, they secure their helmets, gloves, and visors, immersing themselves in a focused silence. The atmosphere inside the vehicle is charged with anticipation, a collective determination to respond swiftly and decisively to the emergency at hand.

As the heavy rescue vehicle roars to life, they exchange determined glances, their eyes reflecting a shared commitment to their mission. With a final click, they embark on their journey, ready to face the flames and challenges that await them.

Outside, the world is ablaze with orange and red hues, but inside the armored vehicle, R23I9 and the other paramedic are a beacon of unwavering resolve, their armored forms a testament to their preparedness and courage. With every click, they move closer to the heart of the fire, their purpose unwavering, their determination unyielding. 🔥🚑💪

[shimmerbeasts]

Has the mun ever scared the muse? 

Muse Speaks about the Mun||Accepting.

"Miss T and scaring me. Oh, it is cute that you think she is capable of doing that!"

Silco gave a serene smile and brushed his fingers against one another. Heterochromatic eyes inspected his carefully trimmed nails as if he were imagining small specks of blood upon them. The barest hint of the carnage, the woman controlling him and all the others here, had made him inflict.

Silco spoke: "Nothing, Miss T has done can ever truly scare me. In fact, I dare say that it is quite the opposite. There are times when Miss T's imagination gives her a bit of shock. Sure, she may have laughed off my development with the joke 'I made you worse', but I can tell it does disturb her sometimes what her mind can think up. And then other times, she fears it is not hardcore enough or that people cannot see the horrors, she is trying to portray."

A soft huff escaped his lips. "She is a lot like my beloved Jinx in that regard", Silco said, "She has such monstrosity lurking inside of her and through her writing she can unleash so much. And yet she has moments where it startles even her and makes her doubt her own moral compass. She finds it hard to embrace how black her morality is. At least in the field of fiction."

With another shake of the head Silco concluded: "But no, Miss T has never frightened me. Do I find certain elements, she burdens me and the others with, upsetting? Of course, I do. Those are traumas, Miss T has burdened us with. However, her more horror-based ideas, her gore and bloodshed and the way, she handles mind control? No. Those aspects have never scared me, but I can recognise that they are quite frightening ideas of hers."

[chatotbox]

When Remy returns home they arrive to a package wrapped in crisp, brown paper to protect it from the elements. It's tied with brown twine and perched at the perfect angle to be visible from a short distance away.

Inside the package lies a rectangular box, wrapped in three layers of high-quality gift-wrapping paper. The first goldenrod, the second violet and the third a dusty red. Each layer shimmers faintly like mica.

Inside the box is a pair of matching dusky red shoes, mirroring the color scheme of Remy's beloved Ariados. The ankle of the boots even feature two small, glass beads that look like the creature's eyes.

Inside, a simple note in shimmering, red ink: "To my dear friend: a pair of flashy-but-sensible boots. Inspired by your beloved companion. With love, Nix."

They almost miss it, but only because the old Heracross minding the house comes to meet them outside. She's old, with a crooked arm and plenty of old dents in her horn, and she headbutts Remy with affection as the reporter steps up the path.

The box does get spotted, though, and they grab it on the way by as they're shuffled into the house by the insistent old beetle.

The rest of their team are let free, including the newest addition of a Wooper that toddles around to bump into everything new, and Remy's plucking the paper off from around the box. The beautiful paper marks this as a gift from Nix even before the note is unboxed.

The boots are gorgeous -- absolutely, utterly gorgeous. Remy gasps when they manage the box open, beaming at Ariados as they pull them free.

They look like you!

Ariados chitters, waving her feelers as she comes over to inspect them, and Remy looks to the note and smiles to themself. Nix really was a thoughtful person, weren't they?