#Random playlist

[medtech-mara]

Tag game- Random songs edition

I was tagged by @clockworkvenus

Mine is a bit of a mixed bag as well.... and i have a music taste that most in this community do not jive with. Or maybe when they think I say I love the Weeknd, Its like "ahaha blinding lights is soooo good.. TAKE MY BREATH" kinda situation, or maybe they are not ready for listening to DAWN FM playing as V yet, I DONT KNOW.

Forget by Twin Shadow

Virtual Insanity by Jamiroquai (Slap a bleached blonde mullet and he looks like jihzzy i swear, huge fan, love him SOOOO MUCH)

Wake Me Up by The Weeknd ft. JUSTICE

Low Life by Future ft. The Weeknd

W.A.P by Cardi B ft Megan Thee Stallion (😳)

LIMBO By KESHI

Dabbington City by NXCRE and The Villians

Rock with You by Michael Jackson

さいとうまりな - Crazy For You by Marina Saito (It's my unofficial opener for an anime in my universe, its like Sailor moon meets Space Mechs. I love music from all languages)

Like That by Keshi

WAAAAY LESS Weeknd that I had expected. I guess you all were blessed. Honestly I think its actually a pretty good mix of what i listen to. Surprised none of the old emo songs didn't come up. It would have likely been A Day to Remember or Pierce the Veil.

I do want to do an honorable mention that played right after i reached 10.

Tongue Tied by Grouplove

and I found this awesome mashup of Thriller x Wake Me Up which is everything i needed. so I'm actually going to log off and do the thriller and some wack ass dance moves i come up with on the fly.

[leothelionboy]

I kinda wish spotify had like a shuffle feature for finding playlists. Sometimes I just wanna listen to something new and spotify goes “Here! Have a song you’ve listened to for the past month.”

Like dude… I asked for new! Not my favorite song of right now. Gimme a random ass band with two monthly listeners. Not Maroon 5.

[alcoholicyoungadult]

Listen to my iPod. (24+ hrs)

[jackyjackdraws]

I got this idea at 3am.

No, I won't elaborate further

[i6corais]

⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀nicknames

𝗍𝗈𝖽⍺𝗒⠀⠀𝓘𝗌⠀⠀ೋ⠀⠀𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄⠀⠀

⊹⠀⠀𝗆⍺𝗇𝗍𝗋⍺⠀⠀𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅,⠀⠀𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄.

𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗅𝗀𝗂'𝗌⠀⠀𝖻⍺𝖻𝗒⠀⠀𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄 ❀

୨ৎ⠀⠀𝗈𝗇𝖾⠀⠀𝗊𝗎𝖾𝖾𝗇,⠀⠀𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄

♡⠀⠀👐🏻⠀🪹⠀🌰⠀⠀1. ⠀𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄

⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀playlist

꒰◍ ´꒳ ◍꒱◞⠀⠀♡⠀⠀𝗳𝗼𝗿⠀⠀𝗄⍺𝗇𝗀⠀⠀𝗌𝖾𝗎𝗅𝗀𝗂

𝗆⍺𝗒𝖻𝖾⠀⠀𝗂⠀⠀𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌⠀⠀𝗒𝗈𝗎⠀⠀ᶻ 𝘇⠀⠀𓇼

𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾⠀⠀𝗂𝗌⠀⠀𝗁⍺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋,⠀⠀𝖻𝗎𝗍⠀⠀𝗂𝗌⠀⠀𝗈𝗄⍺𝗒

레드벨벳⠀⠀강슬기⠀⠀𝗀𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗌⠀𝖼𝗁⍺𝗈𝗌.

⎯⎯⠀⠀✿.⠀⠀𝓢𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗌⠀⠀—⠀⠀𔘺 𝗃⍺𝗓𝗓

[mafleur]

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝖾'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲.

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗰𝘆 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾.

𝗳𝗹✿︎𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀: 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌.

𝖼𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗆𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾, 𝗏𝗈𝗅. 𝟣.

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲'𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗋: 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒.

𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾.

𝗣𝗢𝗘𝗠𝗦: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 5𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝘀𝘂𝗻 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇.

𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇��, 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗂𝗂𝗂. ─── 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗋.

𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾.

“ random playlist prompts. ”

𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗌.

𝖺 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝗶𝘃: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝖾.

𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽.

𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾, 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺.

𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖽.

𝗆𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗈: 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝟫𝟦.𝟩.

𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍. 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲.

𝗇𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌, 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌.

[baenuit]

ㅤ

𝖺𝗅𝗈̂, 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖺?

𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖺̃𝗈 ✿︎ 𝟢𝟦 ' 𝖿𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗂𝖺.

𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺̃𝗈, 🫔 詩 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗌

𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗎𝖼𝖼ı𝗇𝗈 ㅤ& ﾛﾛ 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗋 ' 𝗋𝗈ı𝖽

𝟣𝟥 : 𝟢𝟢 𝗽𝗺 🔅 ( 𝗆𝖺𝗋 - 𝗓𝗂𝗇 ) calor do verão a esquentar emoções guardadas por momentos frios.

𝖲𝖠𝖬𝖡𝖠 , 𝟣𝟫𝟪𝟨.

𝗑𝗈𝖽𝗈́ ㄔ 𝗈𝗁, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗌

놀이｡ 𝗌𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖺 🪴𝆕 0:27

#𝗀𝗂𝗋𝖺 ? 𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗅. 🍻 ' ꉂ 𝟤𝟨 ° 湿度

𝖼𝗁𝖺́ · 𝖢𝖠𝖬𝖮𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖠 , 𝖼𝖺𝗅─𝗺𝗮𝗿─𝗂𝖺.

random──bios

[espuor]

𝐢. 　𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 　 𝗈𝖿 　 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌.

this first part is for flower lovers. I made this post inspired by the language of flowers so you can organize your playlist on music apps like spotify.

𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍──𝗆𝖾-𝗇𝗈𝗍 · 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 [♥︎] 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗒.

𝗅𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋──𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 &︭ 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾 ✿, 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗇' 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝗃𝖺𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾 · 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌, 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒.

𝐢𝐢. 　𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼.

this second part is definitely my favorite, I love looking for “different” words for what I’m feeling and it goes really wel l with calm and romantic songs.

𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗌: (𝖺𝖽𝗃.) - 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗒; 𝖽𝗂𝗆; 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄.

𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 ⚘ 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌.

𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽𝗌𝖼𝖾: (𝖺𝖽𝗃.) ♡ · 𝖻𝖾𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌⠀ 𝖺𝗇𝖽 ⠀ᜆ ✉️⠀ 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖿𝖿⠀𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼.

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 　𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺, 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗌.

this third part is for those who enjoy old rock and suspense films without forgetting their poetic side.

“𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆” 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 “𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾.”

𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖺ï𝗌 𝗇𝗂𝗇.

ꚩ ⠀𝗍𝗁𝖾⠀ 𝗏𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 ⠀𝗈𝖿 ⠀𔒝⠀ 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅𝗌.

𝗌𝖾𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 ☪ 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.

[the-ow]

Spotify inspo profile ' ★

Tiramisú⠀ ⠀ ✿⠀ ⠀ 케이크

(...) ❗ Just friends.

정국 ───── 𝟢9.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[vvenuspng]

moonlight magic

[eye-merely-jest]

hrrghgghbmnnmm x-men evolution nightcrawler….

i actually didn't care for him when i first started watching evo 'cause i thought him annoying as shit but now that is PRECISELY why i'm obsessed with him. Weird Kid™ kurt is just such an endearing concept and it's like he's just like me and I FUCKING LOVE THIS GUY SO MUCH

[infizero-draws]

ctommy is once again on the menu

[moodymisty]

𝕺𝖋𝖋 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖉𝖌𝖊

Author's note: The first chapter is done! I really hope you guys enjoy this! Relationships: Damarion(Ultramarine OC)/NightLordSerf!Fem!Reader Warnings: Blood, Brief mentions to unconsensual sexual content, The sorts of things you'd expect being a Night Lord serf Word Count: 2911

Guilliman reads the report in his hands with an inhuman level of efficiency. His eyes gloss over each and every word darting from line to line, faster than any baseline could ever dream to process. Through this he remembers key pieces of information to form his conclusion once he finishes the hundreds and hundreds of lines within a few moments. Statistics, casualties, recorded vox chatter between astartes- all memorized.

-recovery of valuable data successful

-investigation of reason for ship’s abandonment conducted

-no signs of external attack. Suspected internal conflict

-survivor found

-plans for extraditing survivor to nearest habitable colony delayed

Guilliman diverts his eyes from the information in his hands looks to the marine in front of him. He stands stoic and at attention, hands behind his back as he stares at Guilliman and awaits a response. The primarch gives him a momentary once over, looking at the condition of his armor and the look on his face.

He’s young, but not that young. His scars are somewhat minimal, mostly surface level; A helmet is locked onto his belt not far from a basic issue combat knife. A standard, by the books Ultramarine. Nothing particularly special.

“This… survivor; You found them.”

The marine nods. Damarion; Guilliman remembers the name from the report. He spoke on vox that he found a survivor amongst the derelict ship after hearing screaming he soon located the source of. He shifts his weight from one ceramite boot to the other.

“Yes. A serf.”

Guilliman tenses and loosens his jaw, continuing to watch the marine intently. He raises a hand and rubs his cheekbone. He supposes this is the sort of mess he gets bestowed with whenever he dares to muster a thought of being bored. Curse it all, he should've perished the thought before they set off.

“A singular serf? They managed to survive whatever happened on that ship? I was informed it looked like a battlefield.”

Damarion takes a step closer and his hands drop from behind his back, going into a slightly more casual pose as he begins to explain.

“It looked as if the crew formed two separate hierarchies and slowly killed each other off. The rest either escaped or perished somewhere else.” Guilliman hums. Seems sound enough. The Night Lords are far from unfamiliar in terms of infighting, and the idea of them slowly killing each other during a power vacuum is not one that he would blink much of an eye at.

"We were in the barracks hall, one of the quarters had been locked from the outside. I heard yelling from the interior." That was shortly before they managed to get inside, and presumably found a disheveled, hungry serf. Locked inside for safekeeping by the owner, Guilliman would presume.

“Alright. What is his name?”

Guilliman’s brow furrows in confusion when the marine becomes… Nervous.

He shuffles a bit and it makes his armor plates clank against each other, pursing his lips. He suddenly has a bit more trouble looking his own primarch in the eyes, shifting from side to side.

“She… Doesn’t have one.”

The look Guilliman gives him only further heightens the marine’s unease. The two look at each other at odds in a sort of standoff, but not from a personal conflict. Guilliman hadn't expected the serf to be female; Even if there wasn't much reason why he shouldn't. He prods for a bit more information that wasn't in the report.

“What do you mean she doesn't have one?”

The marine clears his throat awkwardly, habitually covering his face with an armored fist for a moment.

“She claims that she doesn’t remember it. That they gave her a new name when they took her for a serf.”

Guilliman raises his eyebrows; He supposes that along with whatever she's encountered, one might be forced to no longer use their own name, or forget it outright. It would be one of the milder things he’s heard in terms of the abuses that baselines face when under the ‘ownership’ of the Sons of Kurze. It seems serf might not be the correct term. Guilliman attempts to pry even further.

“And what was that?”

Damarion suddenly regains any nervousness he’d previously lost, and opens and closes his mouth not unlike a fish suffocating on a beach. It takes a moment before he actually begins speaking again.

“With all due respect My Lord, I cannot repeat it to you.”

Guilliman now grows multiple more layers of confusion, quickly growing frustrated with the roundabout way this conversation is going. Why will one of his men answer an extremely simple question?

“You can’t?” The young marine swallows thickly enough that Guilliman notices his change in demeanor. “And why not?” His brow furrows as well.

“It was, something related to her reproductive organs.”

Guilliman doesn't recoil, but disgust quickly paints his face. He knew that Curze’s sons lacked honor, but it seems the surprises are neverending. He never hears the end of their horrors and abuses against human life; If anything, they only seem to grow like some sort of malignancy.

“Very well.” Guilliman takes a habitual glance towards the datapad, despite the fact that he’s long since memorized the information contained on it for this particular excursion. “And you denied the process to have her transported to Macragge?” Damarion curtly nods once more and returns his hands behind his back into a proper formal stance.

“I wish to take her on as my own serf.”

Guilliman wants to rub his temples and sigh. This all is a mess- But at least it will be this marine’s mess now. As long as he isn’t having to continue dealing with this, then the primarch supposes there is no harm then just letting this young marine have away with it and forgetting this all has happened. If something inevitably goes awry, one of his captains will deal with it.

“Very well. I do not have the time to deal with a singular serf. if this is what you wish, by all means. Just keep her out of trouble.”

Damarion nods. He can work with that.

He hopes.

Leaving Guilliman's office with a respectful bow, the first thing he does is return to his own quarters- knowing you'll still be inside.

Half of the reason that he decided on taking you on as a serf was ever since finding you, you've latched to him incredibly hard. But at the same time, you're horribly frightened of him. It’s as if since he’s established he won’t immediately kill you, he’s proven to be the safest option. But the Night lords surely instilled a heavy, all-consuming fear of astartes in you, and everything about him down to his smell sets you off; It doesn't take much to send you cowering into the corner as if he is going to wring your neck.

You are now his serf, and he will expect a particular decorum from you, but the last thing he wants is for you to fear him.

When he enters his quarters he hears you jump, eyes wide with fear that only calms a bit when he's someone you recognize. The rag is tight in your grip, and it takes him to notice his quarters is immaculate in comparison to how he left it. Every corner is cleaned, the cot blankets are refolded and the floors are spotless. Your voice is still a bit scratchy when you speak.

“Hello Master.”

He winges a bit at the title. Lord was acceptable among the Ultramarines and commonly used by the serfs, but many preferred just their rank or family name. It was something they were used to being called. Master had a connotation to it that he wasn't fond of, particularly when coming from a sickly serf currently on her hands and knees cleaning the floor like a single spot found would spell her own demise.

“Get up off the floor.”

He gestures bluntly, wanting to get you off of sitting on the cold metal floor. You keep refusing to sit on anything else.

But instead of getting up you just cower, looking up at him worried as if you were about to get beaten into submission.

“I'm sorry, I cleaned everything and I didn't want to dirty it.”

The room is indeed spotless, he's surprised you managed to do so much in such a short amount of time. Not that there is much in his quarters to clean; Ultramarines tend to forgo trophies and excessive keeping of things that do not provide any worth to them. The room now reeks of harsh cleaning chemicals that burn his nostrils, and he notices the skin on your hands is inflamed. You've surely been in here this whole time, just toiling away. Damarion doesn't even remember a time you've left his quarters; You're far too frightened to do such a thing so soon after being brought back from the derelict vessel.

“You did fine. Now get up off the floor.”

You slowly rise up, fiddling with the front of your new clothes. Shrinking like you're prepared for a beating, Damarion feels a bit ill at the idea that such a thing was a regular occurrence for you. You still have bruises that he’s noticed already, ones so new that only recently had they begun to fade.

Wilting like a flower, your head lowered into your shoulders and your voice quiets enough that his ears need to prick up in order to hear it.

“I'm so sorry, I'm just a stupid-” He groans and raises his own voice, cutting you off.

“Quiet with that woman, you're fine. Just sit on the cot.”

You suddenly begin look at him like he just asked you to dance. Your eyes dart around his face, and he feels as if you’re checking to see if he’s laid out a trap for you. Not being taken for his word is aggravating him, but he holds it in.

“What? But that's yours…”

Quickly reaching his wits end, he attempts to find more rope in it anyhow and hold strong. Had you been anyone else he would’ve long since pushed you off, but he just…

He can't get visibly upset. The last time he did you cowered like he was going to kill you, and he would rather not see that again. He doesn’t like the feeling of fear like that; From assuming his so monstrous that he would crush you simply for annoying him.

He put this on himself. He supposes this is his punishment for his impulsivity.

“Yes it is, but you can sit on it. Were you only allowed on the floor?”

You nod. He should’ve assumed as such. What callous tyrant would beat his serf within an inch of their life enough times that they now cower in fear at any astartes, with the wounds to prove it, but allow them to sit on his cot? Much to his surprise, your voice raises a bit and you provide a bit of context to your odd behavior.

“My master only let me onto the cot when he wanted to use me.”

Damarion resists the slightly hot feeling in his mouth at such a casual admittance. Use you… the implication was easy to understand. You look at him blankly unaffected by such a thing, before skittering to sit on the edge of the cot.

“Is that what you want from me?”

He sees you reach for your the top of your robes and start to undo it, and jolts towards you before he can fully register the affect of such a quick motion. It causes you to skitter backwards in fear; Your clothes are partly undone and bunch awkwardly.

A pair of marines passes by his open door during this, seeing him reaching for a serf cowered in fear and attempting to undress herself.

“Do not-!”

He takes a deep breath and lowers his voice. He attempts to remember his training, remember the many times his superiors told him to keep hold of his temper as he straightens up.

The marines pass. He knows he'll be hearing from his superiors about this. He’s already gotten in trouble enough times, whats another he supposes.

“Do not do that again. There is no need to undress yourself.”

He's going to need to somehow get a second cot. Or by Terra, at least a blanket for you to lay on. He would feel like a monster for making a sad, beaten serf sleep on the cold metal floor.

The other serfs might be able to get you something, perhaps.

Going near the serfs quarters had been an odd affair for him; He's never seen the place. When he ordered what he wanted done, it hadn't taken long for someone to inquire about the reason.

“You are the one with the serf from the Night Lords ship?"

He didn't confirm or deny it- he had no desire to do such a thing to a random serf. Though the confirmation that the news is spreading is, abit concerning.

Of all the things he would be known for, it wouldn't be his valor it would be for his...

Wrapped tightly in the tattered remains of your robes he carries you cradled in one arm- the other holds his bolter. He doesn't look down at you, and simply continues forward as he follows his squad. They all look at him curiously.

...Moment of impulsivity.

Satisfied with this success, Damarion goes to have his armor removed. This mission was the last of his current rotation, so he's due to be removed. It's a long process, and doing so gives him plenty of time to think. The mechanicum that begin the process pay no mind to his unfocused eyes, his body going through the habitual motions as piece after piece is taken from him.

He regrets doing this. Taking you.

You would do better tossed in with the other serfs. His eyes stare of at nothing as he feels the electrical jolts of his armour disconnecting from his armouring suit. For a brief second it feels like he's missing a part of him, but that feeling fades after a moment each piece is removed.

They always said he had a temper. Was impulsive; Too brash for an Ultramarine. He made a split second decision to the Primarch himself and now there's no way he can go back.

You'll settle with time.

Baselines might not be as stoic as them, but you're flexible, adjustable. And this ship will surely prove more pleasing than whatever it was like with the Night Lords. It won't be long until you begin to behave normally. Like a frightened animal, you just need a bit to realize you're safe.

You had acted surprised when he had lights in his quarters, and whenever he returns to you, he finds them off. He's seen you squint almost as if your eyes hurt because of the lights, and Damarion assumes you spent much of your time in at pitch black.

He makes a discontented sigh at no one in particular once his armouring suit is peeled from him and detaches from his ports. His skin almost feels odd now that it touches the stagnant air, and that brief, uncomfortable feeling of now being out of his armor lingers for a few minutes before it fades. What remains however, is his desire for a shower. The stench of him is now unsealed and he wants for not much more than to not stink like a sewer. That becomes his first order of business once the Mechanicum are finished.

Once he is clean and covered in his casual linens, he returns to his quarters to see you sitting on the ground again, and the spare bedding he had requested is sitting folded on his cot. You seem to have made no attempt to touch them, and if anything, you seem to be actively avoiding even looking at them. He gestures vaguely.

“...They are for you.”

The way your voice pitches when you look at him gives him an odd feeling.

“Really?”

You hesitate grabbing them for a moment after he nods, before you finally pull them off his cot and make almost a sort of nest on the floor. He watches for a moment out of just sheer curiosity, before throwing his weight onto his cot.

He is able to slow his own brain instantly and soon after fall asleep, though unbeknownst to him you stay awake for a good bit longer. You watch him intently to make sure he's really asleep, fiddling in the corner on your blanket. The idea of sleeping in the same room is still unsettling. The dim candles that are lit provide just enough light to see most things, but not strain your eyes.

Only once you know he's asleep, do you attempt to get some sleep yourself. The fear still remains, an astartes is in here your body is tight like a spring, but eventually the fatigue takes over and everything finally goes black.

[stephanleyhes]

Bang chan in super board mv

[mircrobios]

[call-me-chips]

If you see this, reblog with the weirdest name of one of your playlists, I'll start:

My weirdest playlist name is prob either

"Hi god, it's me again. Quick question: Why?"

or

"Skipping down the sidewalk after escaping the psych ward :)"