#This is NOT a legion safe space

[cannieclownery]

[moodymisty]

Chapter reactions to their Primarch's beloved [ part2 ]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

[ Part 1, Part 3 ]

Author's Note: Another 4 of the 'Chapter reactions to their Primarch's lover' series I said I went too crazy with. I chose them at random, if you want any more feel free to say.

Relationships: Implied Lion'el Jonson/Gn!Reader, Implied Konrad Curze/Gn!Reader, Implied Vulkan/Gn!Reader, Implied Magnus the Red/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Some vague implications of the Night Lords being creepy little shits but tbh is that really surprising?

➧ Dark Angels:

Paranoid. You were actually kept a secret from most of the Legion apart from Lion'el's closest Commanders for quite awhile, until he made his decision to reveal the that The Lion of Caliban had taken a lover.

You can only assume he did all of it as another layer of his ever expanding list of contingency plans and secret keeping. You're quite familiar with his thought process at this point; At least what isn't also another secret.

They are, more than a bit confused as to why their Primarch has dedicated his time to such pursuits, but you suppose it all could be far worse.

Their 'upbringing' and Lion'el's inability to show pretty much any emotion has heavily affected their ability to do or understand anything that could be considered 'affectionate'. It just seems pointless to them.

They have a pompous aura, and an overall 'nose turned upward' attitude regarding you. Despite being their Primarch's beloved, you are seen as beneath them by nature of your existence. This could quite possibly change overtime however, depending on how much of an active role you take in Lion'el's legion.

However Lion'el's paranoia extends to his sons in force, and his men are hyper vigilant of you if you're ever put under their watch. They may not have the best attitude, but you couldn't be safer. Expect to basically be chained to one spot for periods of time. Figuratively. Maybe.

All of this makes interacting with them, difficult, but manageable. At least they don't want to murder you.

...As far as you know

➧ Night Lords:

Avoid every single one of them like your life depends on it, because it very much does. Becoming the object of Curze's obsession is probably the worst possible thing you could do for your overall life expectancy.

Because he pretty much brought a prey animal into den of slobbering wolves, being with you. As while Konrad may love you (at least as much as a man as troubled as him can) many of his sons see you as little more than a brand new thing to be toyed with.

While Heresy era Night Lords may be marginally less deranged than their 41st millennium counterparts, they still heavily enjoy instilling fear; Particularly to keep humans in line.

So they tend to circle around you like they're herding prey animals; Biting the air if you wander too far away from their Primarch's shadow.

There's really only a few that you 'trust' enough to be in their protection for more than few minutes. And while you might feel safe, there's always... Something off.

You can stand to be in the same room as Sevatar- given his more stalwart, repressed nature which makes him much easier to communicate with than the average Night Lord- but you don't like the way any of the Night Lords look at you. Even him.

There's always something deep within their dark eyes, or something behind their rare smiles. Being near them makes your neck tense, hair standing on end. Every single siren in your head screaming to run run run. It's like they're waiting for the moment Curze leaves you alone to take something they want.

You don't want to know what that something is.

➧ Salamanders:

The most sane of them all besides the Ultramarines and the White Scars. They treat you with respect and kindness, in that stunted, overly formal Space Marine way. You can tell they're trying, so it's kind of sweet, honestly.

Even from the moment that Vulkan first formally introduced you as his beloved, they always seemed to welcome you into the chapter, so to speak.

They're also helpful; For example given the sheer scale of the Flamewrought, you've been helped by them before when you found yourself horribly lost. Something Vulkan finds very amusing.

Overall, they are one of the few, if not the only chapter that would probably be actually somewhat, happy, to see their Primarch happy.

They see the way Vulkan softens whenever he looks at you, and know that those things are what they're fighting for.

Vulkan has spent years emphasizing the importance of protecting the Imperium and it's people, and it's paid off with a chapter that is not only of a somewhat normal disposition, but isn't completely fucking insane.

They'll keep you safe no matter what, as even without orders, they genuinely seem to care for your wellbeing.

Just keep your new sons away from the lighter fluid, ok?

➧ Thousand Sons:

Many of them disapprove of Magnus going down such a path, seeing it as unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but when they see how Magnus is absolutely stupid in love with you and will not hesitate to scold dissent on the matter, they end up having to stay largely quiet about it.

No matter how much they may object at the end of the day, Magnus won't budge; So they have to just learn to accept it. Afterall, Magnus had made it very clear you aren't going anywhere.

While they perhaps might not be as overtly as pompous as the Dark Angels, for awhile they won't be much more than amicable to you.

As their Primarch's beloved, they will be more than ready to protect you if need be, and while at first it might simply be because their Primarch has ordered them to, overtime they do warm up a bit. You can smile at them and watch them hone their skills, and they begin to see why Magnus likes you so.

Just don't finger up the tomes, and you both can coexist.

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Serious:

Summary: Inspired by that line in Ahsoka - "Would you like me to be more serious?"

Warnings: Kissing? Angst? Fighting.

Word count: 1,125

The battle had been long, even now, hours after it ended and the Republic had come out victorious, you could feel the weariness in your bones. Maybe it was because you were still so surrounded by the consequences of the war. Bodies were being transported across the hall, people treated for their injuries, generals shouting over the din trying to issue orders of evacuation. 

You just sat there and watched. Sitting on the ramp which led up to your ship that had not been cleared for safe flight. Waiting for a better mechanic than yourself to come fix it. Waiting for someone to help. You would have loved to just leave. Go back to the Jedi temple, back to the gardens, the library, The idea of sleeping and meditating, once so boring to you, seemed like a rescue after such trying days as these. 

One of those loud Generals in particular caught your attention. Maybe it was because of his excessive volume or lightness of voice. Either way your eyes met the back of his head in a glare. Anakin Skywalker. He was engrossed in a heated discussion with Captain Rex, the leader of the 501st Legion.

You knew that Anakin had been through a lot during this battle. His skills as a pilot and a warrior were unmatched, but he had a tendency to take risks that left him and those around him in dangerous situations. It was one of the qualities that made him a formidable warrior but also a source of concern for the Jedi Council. His behaviour didn’t make him any less of a liability. 

He was laughing. Men were being dragged across the room by their feet for lack of stretchers and he was laughing. 

As you watched, Anakin suddenly turned, his eyes locking onto yours like he felt your glare. There was a flicker of recognition in his blue eyes, and he made his way towards you, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous hangar.

“Master L/N” 

"Anakin," you responded coolly, not bothering to hide your disapproval at his behaviour. 

"Something wrong?" he asked, his tone challenging, eyebrows raised.

You scoffed. “Evidently not, indeed it seems the war has not dimmed your spirit.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Levity is one thing, Anakin," you said sharply. "But this is not a time for jokes. Lives have been lost-“

“I know that.” He says sternly.

“Do you? It seems you couldn’t care less.”

“You want me to be more serious?”

“Yes”

"I care about the lives lost, L/N. You know that. But what good does it do to sit around feeling sorry for ourselves? We won this battle, and we need to start planning for the next one. Who are you helping? Sitting there, staring out into space- it’s miserable. It’s pathetic.”

“I’ll take that over callous.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

You sighed, feeling a sense of deep exhaustion wash over you. It was true that you were tired, physically and emotionally, but you refused to let your guard down around Anakin. His impulsiveness and lack of regard for consequences had caused trouble more times than you could count. You were grateful for his skills, but that didn't mean you had to approve of his attitude.

“I don’t know what I think of you.”

Your words hung in the air, the tension rising between the two of you. Anakin's expression was stony, his jaw set in a hard line. For a moment, it seemed like he might lash out at you, but then he sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped.

“Force, Y/N. Sometimes I just want to…”

You watched him for a moment, seeing something in his eyes that you couldn't quite place.

"Want to what, Anakin?" You prompted. He’s silent for a beat too long, studying you unnervingly. "You're not injured, are you?” You ask.

“No. Apologies Master L/N. For everything- my behaviour.” 

You regarded Anakin with a mixture of surprise and concern. It wasn't often that you heard him apologise, especially not for something as ingrained in his character as his irreverent sense of humour and his tendency to shrug off any responsibilities.

“Please, allow me to take you to an alternative transport. Yours is… Smoking.”

He had a point and you didn’t really know how to refuse him, or respond in any other way than to follow him out of the hangar. The eyes of all remaining clones and junior Jedi following the two of you out. 

The noise and chaos began to fade away until you were quite alone. That’s when he paused. 

Anakin turned to face you, his expression unreadable. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping up your spine. It was rare to see him so serious, so contemplative. You had seen him in battle, watched as he faced down countless enemy soldiers with a fierce determination in his eyes, but this was different. This was something else entirely.

“You know, I can be very serious when I need to be.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unable to decipher the meaning behind his words. Anakin had always been a puzzle to you, his emotions running deep and his thoughts often shrouded in mystery. You had learned to keep your distance, to stay professional and focused in his presence.

“I’m sure you can be, Anakin,” you said, keeping your tone neutral.

He took a step closer to you, his eyes searching your face.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"I don't know what to believe," you admitted, feeling a sense of vulnerability that you rarely allowed yourself to feel. Anakin had a way of getting under your skin, of making you feel things that you didn't want to feel.

Anakin stepped closer to you, his face set in a serious expression. “Let me show you what I’m made of.”

Before you could respond, Anakin leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You were taken aback by the suddenness of the kiss but found yourself unable to pull away. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you felt a surge of desire rush through you.

As the kiss deepened, you felt yourself succumbing to the heat between you. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. The smell of smoke and burnt metal filled your nostrils, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the feel of Anakin's body pressed against yours, the taste of his lips on yours.

But just as quickly as the kiss had started, it ended. Anakin pulled away, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. You couldn't bring yourself to say anything, for once you had nothing to say to him. He smirked. 

[hana-no-seiiki]

ok Aeon of light Reader has piqued my interests, especially their relation with Nanook. Please make more about them please :D??? It's alright though if you don't want too

END OF A DREAM, BEGINNING OF AN ERA.

notes: OH GOD i forgot to edit the title of the second story. They’re supposed to be the Aeon of the Dream Path + Imaginary element. My bad! I also changed up the timeline there making reader way way more older since I found out Xianzhou residents live for long ass times.

Anyways, thank you! I honestly expected that fic to flop so I’m pleasantly surprised. I spent a long time researching gods to come up with a concept for reader’s path. Very long. Like long enough that I have this obscure fun fact about there being a god called Mama Killa. It partly was because the other Aeon’s concepts / powers are pretty vast (i.e. IX (Nihility) is the god of meaninglessness but can be considered the aeon of insanity and despair as well due to its powers)

[ here is the link to the fic we’re talking about / previous fic ]

YANDERE! NANOOK x READER (AEON OF DREAMS)

warnings: pseudo-incest/godcest, nanook is “born” from your inner hatred towards the universe before he ascended making them technically your child tho this fic can be interpreted as platonic, edgelord aeons, canon divergence. UNEDITED AND RUSHED AF.

I. Ad Somnum Pueri

Hatred always had and will have a root to its madness. Your endless entrapment since your conception ‘birthed’ Nanook. A loathing for existence. A passion for ending every one and every thing. In their path, their destiny, there will be no living beings, there will be no space or time. Only the void, you and the avatar of entropy.

But first they had to take down Yaoshi. After all, even Aeons had to face mortality and if that useless Lan wasn’t capable of keeping you safe in your cradle then it was clear Nanook had to put a hand down.

The Lord of Destruction prided themself for regarding everything — but you — as equal. Everything had to be erased, so there was no point to having favourites or a specific distaste towards another being.

However Yaoshi had broken the camel’s back at your kidnapping. Thus, Nanook decided against their ‘morals’ to give them a special opportunity.

To be the first Aeon whose reverent ichor is in their hands.

II. In Somno In Infinitum

Even after your ascended body was taken and locked away by Yaoshi. You could never argue with the fact that Nanook’s obsession with you remained the most powerful across the universe. You were an Aeon they worshipped vehemently as a young mortal up until now. It was as if they breathed only for you. It came to the point that they even owed their creation to you or not their biological parents.

You were incredibly flattered by such a fact in the beginning. Doting and showering them with blessings, assisting them in the goals in both the waking and slumbering world.

Sleepwalkers was what your scholars called the vessels you used to do your godly work. And Nanook was known throughout the realms to be your favorite.

But when they made a declaration to be a menace to the world, you withdrew all of your support and contact with Nanook. Utterly disappointed with what they have become.

That did not halt their fame and name as your chosen hero from spreading. Their sheer charisma overpowered your network.

Because if there was one thing that was stronger than dreams it was reality.

Indeed you pleaded with your followers never to follow the Lord of Entropy through their sleeping fantasies, but how could they deny Nanook’s efficiency? Their all-out, unbridled, unfettered adoration of you?

And thus, the Dreamcrawler Legion. Now also known by its other name, the Antimatter Legion, was established. With one goal and one goal alone.

Lay the world in a bed of flames and ruin. For when they everyone else goes to eternal sleep, you — their ever generous, loving Aeon — will be free.

III. Mundus Erit Terminus

You never visited Nanook after their ascension. You only ever loved their mortal self. Their path was something you could never hope or desire to follow. Sure, there was a phase of your life where you despised your eternal sleep. But what you learnt from living so long was that acceptance of your situation felt infinitely better than spending eternity filled with loathing.

But Nanook always visited you. While Yaoshi burdened themselves with the task of witnessing your body while asleep. Nanook enjoyed it much more when you talked, your words of guidance — though now reduced to silence — was what made them fall in love with the you who spoke, who moved, who looked at them with open eyes through dreams.

It didn’t matter if you moved your target of hatred to them. Nanook’s love was unconditional and blind as his desire to seek destruction.

“My lord.” Nanook forced you into an embrace. Within their dreams, even when it was your domain, you felt as powerless as you did with Yaoshi. Their golden ichor bled unto your clothes.

They could see you. Your face, your entrancing features, just as he always had, just as he always wanted to. But it lacked a certain glow, a loss they attributed to Yaoshi digressions. Because they knew for certain that your love for them never disappeared. You were too benevolent, too magnanimous. “[Y/N]. My promise is soon to be fulfilled.”

“Every cage you have been trapped in will be gone.” Every cage but his love. Every chain but his arms.

“And you can finally feel the beauty of reality once more.”

A reality that was completely reset and build back up by them.

Translations:

Ad Somnum Pueri - Go to Sleep Child

In Somno In Infinitum - In Endless Dreams / Sleep

Mundus Erit Terminus - The World (shall) End.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[thevoidscreams]

Imagine a space marine with a personal serf whose their bio family and so they're like super protective of them and want to keep them safe.

Like maybe their parents had a daughter really late in life after their son went away to be an Astartes and so now both sibling serve the same legion and there's this seven foot tall walking tank going around with his like teenaged sister and he'll never admit it but if anything happened to her he'd tear the universe apart.

Anyways I'm going to obsess over this now.

[vilhelios]

— ; OH, HOW THE MIGHTY FALL (IN LOVE)

to the very depths of hell, i will tumble down with you // alt title: help! the demon i summoned is a cutie... STARRING: demon!kaeya x reader GENRE: fluff, slight horror, hurt/comfort, demon!au CW: written in all lowercase + small text, not beta read! slight body horror (eye imagery), blood & injury, slight religious themes

i.

pavo ocellus.

a million and more eyes emerge from the darkness, akin to the fake ones that adorn the blue and green feathers of male peacocks. they all blink, sometimes in unison, sometimes in a haphazard pattern. you stare at them all, and they stare back - some squint, some glare, some are glassy and seem to see nothing. it doesn't matter. they all see right through you.

i want to make a pact with you.

somehow. somehow, you've gotten the words out. there is something about this space, now, that weighs onto your bones - an oppressive force that wishes for nothing more but to grind your flesh and sinew to pulp and feast upon your soul. a heartbeat thrums loud in your ears and you know it to be yours, fluttering with fear. even this beating heart knows that this is a mistake. it is too late now.

those thousand eyes inspect you, then four more, blue irises and slit pupils and all, and they all peer into your soul. this is no prideful bird, you gulp, but a serpent. you have summoned a snake, and it will see through you. it will coil around the things you hold dear, choking them out of life. it will find the cracks you thought you’ve hid safely away and unravel each and every one.

it will eat you alive.

but first, it laughs. a chilling thing that rumbles in the ribs of the body it has claimed as its own. and then, it speaks. the words fall from its lips like a gavel to hardwood, ushering in your death sentence.

then it's a deal.

· · ·

ii.

it has begun calling itself kaeya alberich.

to blend in, you assume, because you know you too would raise an eyebrow if a stranger introduced themselves with a name as outlandish as pavo ocellus. when you had confronted him about it, he had smirked - an easy, crooked thing, canines in full display - and said; well, isn't it much less of a mouthful?

so you let him have this moment of self indulgence, warily settling into this masquerade. it is a pretty name, at least: kaeya alberich. the syllables roll from your tongue and you watch a smile creep onto his lips - it doesn’t reach his eyes. he whispers, later in the day: if you ever need me at your side, you know which name i answer to.

in your time of need, whisper only his true name and he will come running.

.

it can take on multiple forms.

it seems to favor just one, though. one with sun-kissed skin and soft, dark hair and a singular, piercing blue eye. his horns have shrunk away, though if he fiddles with his curls enough you can spot the shrunken, pointy stubs peeking out from his scalp. cruel claws have been whittled down to form deft, slender fingers and gloved palms. there is a coldness in each knuckle, you notice, on the rare occasion where he’d twine his hand with yours in an act that you could only hope feigned affection. those hands are not soft and warm, calloused and cold, but you suppose there is comfort in that too.

you remind yourself that it is not a home that you will find there, but a bastion.

an eyepatch lies atop where his right eye would be. in a fragile moment, something you’re scared to call weakness, he allows you to peel away the cloth. his fingers gingerly guide your own to unravel this one part of himself, and beneath are the eyes that peer into your very soul. you find yourself staring back at them, just as you had the legion all those months ago, and you think it is your imagination when he shrinks away. perhaps he cannot tailor it, or maybe he simply chooses not to, but the cluster of eyes that sprout from that hidden socket remain as they do in his true form.

( he sneers, then, venom pooling in his words, though not meant for you; aren’t i quite the sight? )

it is the eyes that remind you that he is merely masquerading as human.

.

it is… insufferable.

but you knew that already.

kaeya alberich, pavo ocellus, demon of secrets. whatever he wishes for you to believe, serpent or peacock or hound, he is insufferable. having to deal with him for a year was by far your greatest feat - as miserable as that may sound - and you do not think you look forward to more of them with him.

the mere thought of him elicits a sigh, an annoyed furrow of your eyebrows, a faint sting in your hands. you find yourself staring at the mark on your palm most days, tracing over its inky lines on others - an eye with a cross for a pupil. it is nothing short of a dreadful reminder: you are bound to him for as long as your soul may toil in the cold depths of hell.

( you ignore the little voice that whispers: maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. )

· · ·

iii.

another case file.

when you had offered to help out with jean’s workload, you didn’t expect there to be as much as there was. you think you’ve seen enough profiles and paperwork to last your fickle lifetime, though you suppose it wasn’t as boring as it would have been - what with all the supernatural involvement, and all that.

slumping in your seat with an exhale, you find yourself going over this week’s bounties. a little girl that had somehow bound herself to an angel - and began calling him her older brother, to his confusion - and a particularly irritating demon that had begun infesting a nearby bank. engrossed in your growing mountain of paperwork, you don’t notice the knock at your door, or the way kaeya slithers in, or how he watches you with an amused glint in his eye.

“as much as i love getting my beauty sleep,” he starts, and his voice is like thunder in a silent field, leaving you jolting up in your seat, “it’s not very nice of you to keep me in the dark, hmm?”

you cock your head to the side, a little more than confused, and kaeya, observant as he is, catches it right away. with a sigh, and a gentle flick of his beloved crystal earring; “you haven’t exactly discussed why you summoned me.”

“oh, i didn’t tell you?”

“unless my memory fails me, no.”

“have i told you what i do for a living?” you start, nodding at the file splayed open on your desk before looking back at kaeya, staring into his one cerulean eye. just in case, he could always just peer into your soul and get the answer himself.

“you’re part of the ordo favonia, correct?” you nod, watching the demon hum - not unlike considering his playing cards. “i must say, you continue to surprise me.”

“sooner or later, i’m going to be assigned jobs that i probably can’t get done without you.” you could already think of a number of things, from gathering secrets - his specialty, probably - to actual combat. “so even if my boss didn’t like it very much, i made a pact with you.”

he stands there for a while, suddenly finding interest in his hands, before breaking the silence; “what an odd solution.” and for a second, you wonder if he’s concerned - maybe even a little - but he looks back at you with an expression you can’t quite read.

“i suppose it’s nothing i can’t handle though, eh boss?”

· · ·

iv.

kaeya alberich, pavo ocellus, bleeds red.

albeit darker than yours, it is red that stains his skin. maroon stains the skin on your fingers and palms and seeps into the cotton balls and bandages that pool at the bottom of the nearby trash can. you whisper soft apologies against his skin at his every wince, but you continue pressing the cloth onto and around the nasty gash just below his ribcage. it is, thankfully, not as bad as it looks.

when you hear him hiss, your gaze snaps upwards to meet his. kaeya doesn’t bother putting on a brave face now, but he gives you one of his small smiles. you are acutely aware of the way his hold on your arm tightens.

i’ll be fine. he murmurs, brows furrowed, and thank you, by the way.

there is a horrid thing that wells up within you when you see him like this. it is the pit that forms in your gut, the heaviness that collects in your eyes, the quiver of your lips. you think it’s guilt, or pity, something in between, or none of those things at all. you had said it yourself: sooner or later, this would become a daily occurrence - there are some duties you were given that only kaeya could handle. it’s why you summoned him in the first place: your soul for a vassal. and he is nothing short of the vassal you’ve been looking for; your loyal, cunning kaeya.

as you wrap clean bandages around his figure, it is realization that creeps up on you. a sinking feeling, a rock that falls into the pit that has manifested in your very soul. a slow and ebbing revelation;

you’re terrified for him.

· · ·

v.

you feel it, then, his heartbeat.

the rational part of your mind scolds you, a parent to a child; of course he has a heartbeat. it’s not special, not in the slightest. all demons have heartbeats, angels and gods too, perhaps. it doesn’t change the fact that these hearts could very well be rotten things, beating for all the wrong reasons.

and you think this is it; you’ve finally launched yourself off the deep end and into the abyss, to have associated a pulse and a heartbeat to goodness. and yet, when you place your hand on his chest and feel the gentle thrum beneath his skin, you cannot help but be entranced. his heart beats.

“you feel it, don’t you?”

you nod, only half registering his words. at that, the demon laughs, a rumbling in his chest that conceals his heartbeat for a moment. when you shift to cup his cheek, kaeya leans into the touch with a purr - like a housecat, you think - and the cluster of eyes he had hidden away glint when they catch the moonbeams just right.

“you really are something, aren’t you?” he starts, voice silk and words honey, and you think you hear an inkling of a chuckle in the back of his throat. “to think it’d be you.”

“what do you mean?”

there’s a sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you, a grin splayed across his face - a real one, that has your heart stuttering. the warmth of his skin leaves that of your palm, and you blink when he presses a kiss to your temple. it’s simple and sweet - the very antithesis of the kaeya that you've gotten to know, all confounding and sly - and when your brain processes it a bit more, you think you’ve gotten a fever, a warmth humming under the skin of your cheeks.

“well love, if you must know." he says, voice teasing yet soft and comforting in your ears. "it's not everyday that this heart beats for someone."

a/n: first post of the year (?) and first genshin post! spooky little thing to celebrate halloween!!! i'm sorry it's been so long, but i can't promise it'll be any different... i also can't promise a lot of tot content just because i haven't played in a while... but anyway, this is a little kaeya fic that's been rotting in my head and in my docs to celebrate the many things that have happened since i made this account! one day mihoyo will give me my demon!kaeya skin (because they love him so much...) but i will be content with haitham, wrio, and kaeya's thief fit. i hope you enjoyed this lil fic—demon!kaeya is one of my favourite concepts <3 !!!

art in header is “Sisters of Clouds” (1994), Adriana Diaz

[nevesmose]

Nostraman Nature Sucks: An Attempted Lore Post

Ave dominus nox Night Lords fans. I thought I'd take some time to go through the various NL stories I have to hand and see what I could find out about the animals that lived on Nostramo. Might come in useful for something, who knows?

Sharks and Whales

As a child, on several coastal journeys with his father, he had witnessed the eyeless barrasal sharks that would group together to hunt the great whales of the open ocean. (Night Lords Trilogy)

His voice filters into something savage and predatory, as hungry as the eyeless white sharks of Nostramo’s blackest depths. (The Long Night)

Not a big surprise since they talk about them fairly often and have the Space Sharks as a successor chapter but Nostramo does have sharks. Pretty gnarly-sounding sharks if I'm honest.

I didn't know what "barrasal" meant, so I looked it up and only found one thread on r/40klore that had the same quote in it as above. Hmm.

Assuming it's not a typo or a more straightforward reference to something I'm just not getting, I'd venture a guess that barrasal, understood here to mean of or relating to "barras" like with "abyssal" could be connected to the French Revolutionary leader Paul Barras who is mostly remembered for supporting Napoleon's rise to power before being overthrown by him.

So maybe the older barrasal sharks will make use of younger ones as temporary hunting partners only to be inevitably betrayed and consumed by them. Sounds about right I think.

As for the whales, where do I even begin? I would imagine they're "whales" in name only like in Dishonored:

This does imply the possible existence of a whaling industry at some stage in Nostramo's history, though.

Crows

Jago reached into his pockets, offering a handful of breadcrumbs. Come, he said to the crows. Food for tonight. Flesh, flesh, flesh, they called back. He laughed as several of the black birds landed on his shoulders and outstretched arm. (Prince Of Crows)

‘Yes. I’ve seen them in books. Is a crow a type of bird?’ ‘Black of feather and dark of eye. It feeds on the bodies of the dead, and sings in a raw, croaking caw.’ (TLN)

Breaking news - legion that keeps referring to crows in shocking has crows on its homeworld scandal. "This is outrageous," said local Nostraman cutpurse and skin disease enthusiast Verxaglryn Quickstabber, "here we are trying to make a good name for Nostramo as a respectable hellhole, a place you'd be proud to exile your worst enemy to, and yet we're surrounded by some of the most intelligent and curious birds in existence. I was shanking someone in a back alley the other night and suddenly I saw a crow learning how to use rudimentary tools! Not on my watch, I said to the rapidly cooling body, and I threw my shiv at it. But it just flew away." At this point Mr Quickstabber was obliged to end the interview due to having been eviscerated by the Night Haunter.

I know their communication with Sevatar is happening in a dream but I really like the idea of the crows adapting to Nostramo by developing some kind of psychic hive mind that's also able to be understood by human psykers.

Crag Cougars

A beast of my home world. When next you see one of the Atramentar, look to their shoulder guards. The roaring lions on their pauldrons are what we called crag cougars on Nostramo. It was considered a mark of wealth for gang bosses to be able to leave the cities and hunt such creatures. (NLT)

Every single one of them is Scar from the Lion King, isn't it? An interesting hint about Nostramo's geography though, of which more later.

Rats

Groundcars whisked by, headlights brighter than deep-hive rats’ eyes, the occupants snug and safe behind armoured glass. (Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter)

No surprises here either. Where there's people there's rats after all.

Something with tusks?

The older Astartes grinned, wolf-like and keen, as the Atramentar either side of the Exalted’s throne growled through their tusked helms. (NLT)

This isn't that conclusive because a lot of Chaos Terminators have tusks no matter what legion they are, but Nostramo being Nostramo they probably belonged to a species of giant carnivorous mammoth that ate babies and sprayed acid from its trunk.

Cows? On My Sunless World?

‘They are still of standard human stock, and not to be mourned. What does it matter if the cattle fear the herdsman?’ hissed Krukesh the Pale. (KC:TNH)

This one's a real reach on my part as it's very likely just a turn of phrase, but I noticed it because wouldn't it be slightly more typical to use a sheep metaphor here? Plus it supports the existence of Nostraman cowboys/ranchers/vaqueros which is fun.

No bats?

His helmet bore a new, spread batwing crest in blatant imitation of Sevatar’s own. (A Safe and Shadowed Place)

A sole space was neat: a circle around an iron lectern fashioned in the form of a bat’s outflung wings, which carried a heavy book bound in human skin. (KC:TNH)

Although they appear a lot in the VIII legion's iconography and artwork, oddly enough I wasn't actually able to find a direct reference to Nostramo itself having bats. Let's cover my ass by saying this aspect might therefore have been brought in by the legion's Terran component instead.

Some Nostraman geography

The Hill Folk lived away from the cities, eking out an existence in the mountains. (NLT)

What's worse than living in a Nostraman city? Living on a Nostraman hill, apparently. This seems to just be an idea of ADB's that doesn't come up again but I've always found it quite interesting. Were the Hill Folk as scummy as the City Folk, just with more of a down-home Dukes of Hazzard vibe? Seems likely.

This also supports the idea of Nostramo not being completely urbanised like some Hive Worlds are. In my view its continents might have had a geographical layout a bit like Italy or Scotland where the cities are mainly on the flatter coasts with a more sparsely populated hilly/mountainous interior.

What else? (This part is just me making stuff up so feel free to ignore it. I'm not ADB, I'm not even ADB's hat.)

If the rest of Nostramo's marine life is anything like the sharks and whales then it's fucking terrifying. I would imagine, because it's funny, that a lot of Nostraman food features disgusting industrially-processed fish in some way or another. Like the food in Dishonored but even worse.

Is something wrong, dearest offworld husband? You haven't touched your stale bread, whalemeat and jellied eels.

Since all life on Nostramo seems to be comically carnivorous and aggressive, it would make sense in a 40K kind of way for there to be giant predatory penguins living at one or both of its poles. A bit like the monstrous blind albino penguins HP Lovecraft wrote about.

Last known infrared pict-capture of an early Nostraman settler attempting communication with a juvenile specimen of the native penguin species. There were no survivors.

[barn-anon]

Firos knows he's not the brightest in the legion, he's also the newest to join this strange world. He was immensely intrigued by the sheer primitiveness of Terra, fascinated in fact. He has his little collection of things he found interesting about Ancient Terra in his private quarters in the Alpha Legion base.

It's not the largest base for his legion, though still the largest one in the area, serving as a safe place for his brothers to rest and stay regardless if they live in the city or were merely passing through. He's had the privilege to meet and speak with brothers from various points of time. What a host of knowledge they all have now, if they ever get back to their original times, they would easily hold all the strings.

Yet it is the whole bonds thing that is most intriguing to him. The idea that there's a special human out there for almost every Space Marine is something. Well every Marine but Alpha Legionaries that is. Though it doesn't really discourage him, he has well... Inigo's human. It's enough for him, happy to go along with Inigo's many rules regarding his human. Not to mention that being permitted to interact with Inigo's human also meant that he's one of Inigo's subordinates.

Inigo by far is one of the best Captains in the city with fingers in every pie. He is fair and generous to those that are hardworking and loyal. The gleaming prize of serving under him is none other than Inigo's own human, that sweet young lady that seems to accept Inigo and the various "Inigo"s.

He purrs happily as he lounges on the couch with his head on Inigo's human's lap. Her delicate fingers scratching along his scalp in the most soothing way. Shimmery green eyes so similar to each and everyone of his brothers look up at the human. His lips curl up into a cheeky smile and within a second, he would be nearly crushing Inigo's human in a tight hug. She laughs at him and turns, pressing a sweet kiss against his cheek.

Such a sweet human. He loves her, he thinks, he's not sure. He doesn't know what love really is but he's pretty sure that what he feels... is love. Yes! He loves her, he's decided that now, he loves this adorable human.

Tagged: @kit-williams • @egrets-not-regrets • @bleedingichorhearts

[idyllic-affections]

hi hello hey i am making a request!

i don’t think i’ve requested anything in a while but here i am!! can i ask for asta with a younger sibling!reader, maybe some found family with arlan sprinkled in? 👀

as always i love your work aph!!!

- ⭐️

the love of a sister.

summary. what would asta be like as an older sister?

trigger & content warnings. implied injury.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, found family. asta & younger sibling!reader, arlan & reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns used for reader.

author's thoughts. YEAHHHHH my first hsr request comes from one of my lovely emoji anons 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 my hsr fic writer arc has begun.... i love asta and arlan they are so found family

oh, i just know asta is an overprotective, overbearing older sister. she means well, don't get me wrong! but she can most definitely be a bit... much. her love is boundless and she always wants her sibling to know just how much they mean to her. therefore, she can come across as very strong and passionate.

i think asta's younger sibling would take after her interest in the stars! as a child, asta's little sibling would follow her around like a little lost duckling and listen to her teach them about the universe with the widest, most curious little eyes.

had her family ever been critical of them, as they were to her, she would have been absolutely livid. her sibling is brilliant (just like their big sister 🫶)! talking down to them will not be tolerated. not as long as she's around. she argued in her own defense, so you had better believe she would argue in her sibling's defense, too.

with these things in mind, it's obvious that she would bring them to herta space station with her. she couldn't bear to be parted from them, anyway, so she would have been so happy that their interests are similar to hers.

just as arlan followed her, so did they.

if asta knows that she isn't going to have the time to watch them and hang out with them, she'll task arlan with watching them, even when her little sibling huffs and complains and insists that they don't need a "babysitter."

(a nasty encounter with the antimatter legion would prove that they do, in fact, need a babysitter. they'd try to convince arlan not to tell their sister about the danger they faced, but he does anyway. he thinks she has a right to know. he's apologetic about it though LMAO and asta? oh, asta's protectiveness increases tenfold after that incident.)

asta is generally quite busy, so arlan usually keeps them company. he eventually became become something of a permanent babysitter.

asta likely feels a bit bad that she doesn't often have freetime to spend with her sibling, so to make up for it, she's always buying them gifts!

it could be something they mentioned halfheartedly in conversation once, a fleeting comment about a cool device or an interesting book they heard about, and asta would get it for them, leaving it on their bedside table for them to find.

she would remember the little details like that. everything she does for them is very kind and thoughtful; it's easy to tell how much consideration goes into her gifts.

arlan would be something of a brother figure to them, i think. after spending so long with him, having known him since before their time at herta space station, it would be inevitable.

his smiles are generally a rare sight...

...but not for asta's little sibling.

he smiles a lot for them <3 around them, he is safe and comfortable and can let down his guard. of course, he's still alert. he needs to keep them protected, per asta's request... and also because the poor thing would never forgive himself if he let something happen to them. he loves them just about as much as asta does.

if they asked often enough, he would eventually cave in and teach them how to protect themselves, as long as asta approved.

^ i believe she would, albeit reluctantly. she trusts arlan! she knows he won't hurt them on purpose, that isn't what she's worried about or bothered by. it's just that it somehow makes her a little emotional to see her little sibling so grown up...

overall, asta is a very good big sister!

she has her faults, but really, doesn't everyone?

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[kit-williams]

Barn Anon. Wanted to buy Dante and usually I buy on Amazon... wtf it's $100+ there?? Either ways I bought the ebook version instead. Still prefer to get a physical book though, something about having the physical thing itself scratches that itch in my head.

Inigo follows his human around the city, proud as a peacock. Yes, this human is his, so what if they don't have a bond like other pairs? She's his! He coos softly to her as she stops to peer through a shop window. Has something caught her eye? A pretty necklace? Wait does she not want it? He's confused as his human turns away from the shop and carries on walking.

He bristles whenever they pass by another Space Marine, he can feel their judging and pitying glances. No! He refuses to let them get to him, he has a human now! He walks closer to his human when they pass a group of Chaos Marines. Mocking words too soft for human ears are said, all directed at the fact that his legion will never get a true bond. He ignores it all, he has heard them a thousand times over. His attention is reserved for his human who's now pulling him towards a bookstore.

He holds her bag as she moves between the shelves, sometimes helping to take a book from the top shelf. His human is short, it's adorable. How he wants to bundle her up and keep her safe from the world. As she queues to pay for her books, his mind goes back to the necklace she was looking at earlier. Maybe he should gift her a little something? Humans like that don't they? She'll know that he cares for her.

I get that feeling of physical books (Okay Alpha legion is slowly getting dashes of Yandere I need to stop)

"Inigo what's wrong?" She says holding him close as she knows just sometimes he gets clingy. But its not like the last time when he was clingy and that she got that weird feeling but that didn't happen this time.

He just speaks in Gothic and she can't help but sigh as he will do this sometimes.

"Did you do something bad?" You hold his face before he just buries his face into your neck nuzzling softly. She runs a hand over his head as she gives him a small kiss on his forehead and just tilts her head as he buries his face into your neck as he just desperately wants this bond to be real.

It is real... He tells himself over and over again as he hugs you tightly. You are his... his human.

[shadowdaddies]

💓💓HEllooo!!💓💓 I love Hunt, that big cute angel, could you write something about him? Soft and smut?? You are a witch who needs protection due to threats and he is hired as a bodyguard. One night things get complicated at your house and he saves you, you don't want to be alone + online one bed 😈❤️‍🔥 THANKS FOR YOUR WRITING GOODDES✨

Hi honey!! I love this, needed some Hunt on this blog. And this prompt is so fun! Please enjoy the ✨iconic✨ one bed trope😈💜

Witch Hunt

Hunt Athalar x Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, lightning usage in bed??, p in v sex, lil canon typical violence, minors dni

As one of the few Valbaran witches with seer abilities, Hypaxia asked you to come to Crescent City to aid her in an ongoing investigation. She was working with the 33rd Legion on the case, and you’d come to Lunathion to offer your help. 

On your first night, you were headed back to the studio apartment where you were staying when two large males jumped from the shadows. You tried to use your wind magic to fend them off, but it didn’t last long. One made a lunging sweep with a knife, making a long cut on your arm. You fell to your knees, head bowed as you accepted this was a fight you would not win. But rather than being met by another blade, you were met with the sounds of swords slashing, and a hand reaching out to you. 

You looked up to see a stunning angel with dark hair and grey wings, wiping sweat from his brow as he gave you a soft smile. “I’m with the 33rd. You can trust me, my name is Hunt.” You stared at the gorgeous male, tempted by the offer, but scarred by what just happened. Refusing his hand, you stood up and brushed the dirt off of your knees. “Well, Hunt, why did you just happen to be around when I was being attacked?”

He smirked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye that you knew would land you in trouble at some point. “I’m not on duty, but I heard the commotion and came to look into it. Luckily for you.” You scoffed, refusing to let him have the upper hand. After calling Hypaxia and alerting her of the situation, she informed you that she knew Hunt and would be working with the 33rd on assigning him to protect you. That was the opposite of what you hoped for. Waving goodbye to Hunt and hoping you could make it far enough away before he received his orders, you set off back towards where you were staying.

You sighed a breath of relief as you closed the door to the apartment behind you, thankful to be back safe and alone. Headed towards the kitchen for a drink, you turned the corner to find Hunt sitting at your breakfast table, looking smug while drinking a beer. “I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself, little witch. Thought I’d enjoy a drink since I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future.” He’d changed clothes since you saw him, now wearing a backwards sunball cap with a muscle tank that showed off his muscular arms. You swallowed, trying to maintain your composure as you grabbed a beer for yourself from the fridge. “Well, you can enjoy that beer now since you’ll be sleeping on the floor,” you said, nodding to the space beside the bed, the only spot in the tiny studio that such a large angel would fit. He let out a soft laugh, “yes, I figured that.” 

You took a shower, changing into a nightgown before slipping into the bed. As you closed your eyes to try to sleep, you couldn’t help but notice how Hunt’s beautiful wings were crumpled as he twisted and turned on the hard floor. You told yourself it was the decent thing to do, to invite him to sleep in the bed with you. Nudging him with your foot, you nodded. “Get up here,” you sighed, as you scooted over to make room for him. You didn’t account for his extremely large frame, however, or the fact that this beautiful angel was now shirtless in bed with you, his warm skin brushing against yours. “I’m sorry, I can move back to the floor if that’s more comfortable for you,” Hunt whispered, seemingly more nervous than you were.

You huffed, twisting in an attempt to get away from his warm body, instead accidentally brushing against something hard. You froze for a moment as he softly groaned, registering that Hunt was in your bed, and visibly aroused. “Fuck it,” you murmured, turning over to face him, cupping the angel’s face as you looked to him for consent. Hunt’s eyes frantically searched yours for any hesitation before grabbing the back of your neck, kissing you fiercely. You hooked a leg over his waist, pulling your hips against his, grinding against him as he moaned into your mouth, allowing you to slip your tongue inside. Your tongues battled for dominance as Hunt rolled you onto your back, kneading your breasts through your nightgown as you looped your other leg around his waist. 

Hunt pulled away, kissing down your body as his hands lifted your nightgown over your head, baring you to him. He kissed his way down your body, roughly spreading your legs as he wasted no time diving into your heat. He thrust his tongue into you, lapping at your wet folds before moving up to suck your clit while pressing his tongue against the bud. You felt a zap of electricity jolt through you, sending you over the edge with a scream as Hunt continued to work you through your orgasm before pulling back with a smug look.

Hooking your feet on his sweatpants, you pushed them down his legs, Hunt helping you as he kicked them off. You reached down to grab his length, and your eyes widened at the size of him. He was by far the biggest man you’d been with, and he looked at you like he knew that. “Just fuck me, angel,” you demanded, lining him up with your entrance. Hunt leaned down to kiss you as he slid halfway in. “I’ll give you some time to adjust. Wouldn’t want to hurt you, little witch.” You huffed out a breath. He was a stretch, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Using your wind control abilities, you pushed a gust of air against his back, causing him to sink all the way into you. You both let out loud moans at the feeling, Hunt resting his forehead against yours while you both adjusted. He slowly started thrusting into you, but you needed more. “Fuck me harder, please, Hunt,” you whispered, kissing his neck as you used your legs to meet his thrusts. “As you wish, little witch,” Hunt said before he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, pounding into you at a relentless pace. You were writhing beneath him, a moaning mess as you neared your orgasm once again. 

Hunt could tell he was close too, bringing his thumb to rub circles against your clit as he continued his thrusts. He came with a loud groan, letting another little shock flow from his thumb to your clit, sending you over the edge again with him. You both panted for air, laughing at the situation as you laid next to each other. This would prove to be an interesting job, after all.

[where-is-caithe]

Woe, giant Eon ref be upon ye.

Eon - she/her or they/them, lesbian charr.

This was started when I was playing them as a necromancer, however the information is relatively the same no matter their class.

Huge BLOCK of information under the cut!

The gist of Eon is that they were part of an Ash Legion Warband, the Night Warband, that was sent into the Fractals of the Mists around when they were first discovered and instead of returning safely, they were trapped inside. The effects of this are apparent in the way they fight and most importantly, the space spots. Scars they get from fighting heal over in space "rifts". The space feels like their regular fur but cold. The scars they have in this ref are what they look like as of SotO.

As of right now, the idea is they became trapped in the Mists and skipped the level 10-30 personal story, and once they are out, it goes right into joining an order to get out of the Citadel. On paper, they still answer to the Ash Legion. In practice. Well.

Important bullet points! (from the ref and additional points)

Eon is the Commander and follows the story relatively the same apart from the very beginning of it.

they have a broken hilt of a sword from one of their dead 'bandmates that they use in addition to other conjured weapons.

their shoulder spikes are from their Flame Legion heritage, before being lost in the Mists they were a smoke and flame elementalist that specialized in stealth and blitz attacks.

now, their magic feels much colder and their stealth is much more reliable, they no longer use flames.

they were born with a short tail.

they usually have the name "Fang" because of their big teeth.

they don't know how long they were in the Mists and they're the only one of their Warband that made it out.

they learned to wield a long sword while in the Mists and are a formidable fighter with one, though they do use a variety of weapons including daggers, scepters, foci, bows, swords and shields.

they have problems with authority and do not take orders well.

they also have a temper and will lash out, however they're generally friendly unless given a reason not to be.

they're not a good person to be sent to speak with political figures like Queen Jennah or Empress Ihn.

they're very aggressive and will attack first, which is not at all how they fought or acted before the Mists.

Clothing and appearance bullet points!

they hardly ever wear full shirts covering their whole chest, even in dangerous fights.

if there's ever clothing that covers their shoulders, the holes that their shoulder spikes go through MUST be torn that way, not made or cut for them.

always wears something with purple on it.

they have many piercings in their ears and it all depends on how many piercings I want to give them in the moment.

the space rifts must always have purple space, but other colors may be there in addition to purple.

hair is always purple.

they have very faint spots like a black panther.

any metal jewelry or accessories MUST be silver.

their shroud as a Specter is the same as their shroud as a Reaper, but without the scythe.

pupils turn white when fighting/using magic but especially in shroud.

I'm probably forgetting things but this is the basics.

[animesmolbean]

Guardian of Light

(Male)

Author's Note: 100 followers?! Oh my God, thank you so much for the support!

Hope you enjoy the chapter! ♥️

〰️

Chapter 9: A Look Into the Future

〰️

The group was now in a stilltent in the desert while (Your Name), who has removed his jacket, sitting next to Jessica, watched Paul open up the fremkit.

Paul pulled out some sort of paper with a diamond drawn on it, unwrapping it to read it, “This is Dr. Yueh's handwriting.” Paul told the two. (Your Name) couldn't help but think back to what he witnessed earlier at the mention of his name. “If anyone makes it out of Arrakeen alive, there's an Atreides beacon in the fremkit. God willing they'll be able to find you.” Paul read the note.

He pulled out a thumper but stated there were no stillsuits. But then, he pulled out a cloth that wasn't supposed to be there. He unwrapped it and saw his father's ring, holding it in his hand. Just then, (Your Name) felt a pain in his chest as he looked at the ring. He felt it when the Duke was hit with the hunter-seeker, but it felt more intense. He clutched his chest and muffled his groans of pain by pressing his lips together. His eyes welled up with unshed tears.

He turned to Jessica, who was trembling, suppressing her cries. He placed an arm around Jessica's shoulders, ignoring the pain in his chest. The older woman lent into the boy's touch, appreciating the comfort, while (Your Name) and Paul held eye contact.

Jessica saw (Your Name) clutch his chest when he saw the Duke's ring, knowing what it meant. Paul, meanwhile, was confused.

Once (Your Name) dropped his arm from around Jessica, he heard Paul coughing as he turned on a small light that showed spice. The boy's expression slowly turned into concern for his best friend.

Suddenly, Paul looked up slowly, eyes glazed like he was in some sort of trance.

In his vision, he saw (Your Name) in his outfit, walking along the sand. He turned around and smiled brightly, his sapphire blue eyes sparkling and his hair covering his face a little.

He kept smiling as he turned his head around again to show soldiers fighting. A brutal war was happening. One of the soldier's helmets lifted after taking down multiple enemy soldiers, revealing Paul with blue eyes, holding a knife in his hand, breathing heavily.

Paul had tears in his eyes, a few running down his face and (Your Name) couldn't help but wipe them away with his thumbs, his face now had a concerned look on it, while Paul's face showed fear.

“That's the future. It's coming.” He started muttering, “Holy war is spreading across the universe like unquenchable fire.”

(Your Name) and Jessica shared a look of concern, “Paul, you're scared. I can see it. Tell me, please, what do you see?” The mother whispered.

In this vision, he saw (Your Name) fighting a ton of Heartless with an assortment of magic and slashing at them with his Keyblade.

“(Your Name).... the Heartless…. a battle… between Light and Darkness.” He muttered.

‘It's just like my dreams. The Keyblade wielders were fighting the same battle.’ (Your Name) thought to himself. He was starting to feel uneasy.

"What do you fear?" Jessica whispered.

Another vision came to Paul. This time, it was him and (Your Name) standing next to each other, dressed in black, with their arms wrapped around each other; his eyes blue from the spice. They watched the war; all the killing, happening below them from an airborne airship; where they were safe.

“Somebody help me, please…” Paul gasped desperately as tears started running down his face.

“Paul…” (Your Name) tried to touch his cheek to comfort him but Paul shuffled back into the corner of the tent.

“It's coming. I see a holy war spreading across the universe like unquenchable fire,” Paul felt trapped by the tent, his legs skidding into the ground as he tried to escape the claustrophobic space. “A warrior religion that waves the Atreides banner in my father's name. Fanatical legion worshiping at the shrine of my father's skull.”

“A war in my name! Everyone's shouting my name!” He was now yelling as he continued to shuffle around, trying to escape. His emotions and visions of the future were too much for him to handle.

(Your Name) had his hand over his mouth, his eyes watery at Paul's haunting words and how he was acting; wanting nothing more than to help the suffering boy.

Jessica gave the boy's shoulder a squeeze, knowing how he felt, before she moved closer to her son. “Paul Atreides. You are your father's son. You are my son. You are Duke Paul Atreides.” She kissed the side of Paul's head, hugging him, “You know who you are. You know who you are.”

“Get off me!” Paul yelled, the Voice coming through, strong, deep, and distorted.

(Your Name) jumped at his voice, backing away from the angry boy, along with Jessica. The (Hair Color) haired boy had never seen Paul like this. Never heard him yell like this. He's never been this angry. It scared him so much. Frightened him, even.

“You did this to me! You Bene Gesserit made me a freak!” Paul continued to yell.

Jessica's lips trembled at her son yelling at her, her tears freely running down her cheeks. While (Your Name) stared at Paul with fear.

Paul was breathing heavily, falling sideways onto the Stilltent ground. He steadied his breathing and looked up at (Your Name).

The sight of his fearful expression made him sob out, his voice wobbly, “(Your Name).... please… please don't look at me like that.”

(Your Name)'s tears fell down his cheeks, the frightened look on his face slowly going away and changed into a look of worry and sadness.

Paul reached a trembling hand out to him, “(Your Nickname)...”

The boy wasted no time and scrambled over to his broken best friend, his broken boy, collecting him in his arms, wrapping them around his body as Paul adjusted to a slouched kneeling position as his head went into (Your Name)'s chest.

“Please hold me… please…” Paul's sob was a mix of a plea and a beg, his tears freely running down his cheeks and landing on (Your Name)’s black shirt. His hands gripped the back of it, holding onto him like a lifeline. Like he was the only thing solid in the world he could hold onto.

(Your Name) nuzzled his nose into Paul's curly hair, arms becoming tighter as Paul repeated his plea into his chest. “Shhh…. it's alright, baby. It's alright.” He cooed. “It'll be okay,” the blue-eyed boy pressed soft kisses onto the top of his best friend's head.

Paul cried harder, “My father is dead.”

It took everything in (Your Name)’s power to not start crying aloud along with Paul. He felt tears roll down his cheeks. He sniffled softly, moving a hand into Paul's hair, carding his fingers through the curls, trying to soothe him. He moved Paul's head away from his chest and pressed their foreheads together. “I know… I'm so sorry,” He choked out before sniffling, “But I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay with you, no matter what. I'll protect you from anything, even your darkest nightmares.” He whispered.

When he said that, he felt the branding pain in his back again. He pressed his lips together to muffle any pained noises that might come out of his mouth; ignoring the pain.

Paul looked at (Your Name) through his eyelashes, tears still running down his face. The closeness he felt to him brought more comfort than anyone he could imagine could.

Paul's hands traveled up (Your Name)’s back, his fingertips caressing it gently, making the boy shiver. His left hand stayed on his back while his right moved to the back of his neck to keep him in place. He felt (Your Name) soft gasp of breath against his lips, making them quiver.

Their eyelashes brushed as they closed their eyes, taking in their presence as they held each other, not wanting to let go. The only person who was keeping him together was (Your Name), and Jessica knew that as she watched the children in love comfort each other.

She realized in that moment that these two boys were in love with each other.

The childhood best friends stayed like this for as long as they wanted.

〰️

After a while, (Your Name) and Paul separated but the male kept the boy leaning on his side.

Pail placed his father's ring on his left index finger, looking grim as he did so.

(Your Name) took Paul's hand in both of his, brought it to his lips. He pressed a hard kiss onto his knuckles.

Paul gave the boy a feeble smile, leaning over and pressing a kiss against the crown of his head in return. The blue-eyed boy looked up in response, feeling a blush bloom onto his cheeks. Paul chuckled faintly at his reaction.

A beeping sound coming from a machine in the center of the tent interrupted the moment, “Someone is near.” (Your Name) whispered as he grabbed his jacket and put it on.

“You need to drink. It's recycled water from the tent.” Paul softly told his mother, voice hoarse as he handed her the bottle.

Jessica drank from it, making a face when she tasted it.

“Sweat and tears.” The two best friends said in sync, giving the older woman slight smiles.

“All right. Let's get out of here.” Paul helped (Your Name) up and then his mother.

The male grabbed the sand compactor and activated it while holding the small light. It started to move the sand. With (Your Name)’s help with him holding the sand compactor against the tent, Paul managed to crawl out of the sand dune. As he did, he saw the small mouse creature that he learned from his recording on Arrakis. It scampered away with a soft squeak.

“(Your Name) won't be happy about that.” He joked to himself, remembering when the boy asked if he could have one.

Paul got out and helped (Your Name) out before the two of them helped Jessica out.

Once they were all out, an ornithopter flew over them, landing on the desert sand.

(Your Name) immediately recognized who was the one piloting it. “It's Duncan.”

The three ran towards the Ornithopter as Duncan got out. Duncan came sprinting out to them, knocking the three back with a hug.

“My Lady, (Your Name), Paul..” He looked between the three, landing on Paul last, “I'm so sorry… your father…”

“We know.” Paul whispered sadly, looking down as the wind blew his curly hair around.

Duncan got on one knee, bowing and grabbing Paul's left hand to place it against his forehead, “ My Lord Duke.”

(Your Name), and Jessica looked to Paul to see his reaction. He was blank faced, showing no emotion, but he did place his free hand on Duncan's shoulder. The lack of reaction worried (Your Name).

Paul was no longer a scared little boy. He was now the Duke of Atreides.

Taglist

@oscarissac2099

[sirpuddingcup]

Before I get into it

SPOILERS FOR THE END AND THE DEATH VOLUME 3

Holy shit this book is great! It genuinely is everything I wanted and more. Volume 3 ties everything up so well that even though I knew the plot outline already just from lore it had me gripped from cover to cover. An emotional and bloody ending to the to the galaxy spanning series.

First off I really enjoyed getting the little updates on what some of the other players are doing while it all goes down. Bobby G and his endless strategy meetings as he tries to figure out how to get to Terra. Lorgar pulling a jonestown as he arrogantly misinterprets prophecies. Perturabo wallowing in self pity as he destroys his room like an angry teenager (the image of him pouting in his broken chair as the room lies devastated around him gives me life). Finally Eldrad and the others arguing over shoulda woulda coulda as they realize this is way worse than they thought. It was nice to check in with everyone before we dive into the trauma of it all.

Speaking of trauma let's talk about the black rage! We see sanguineous's mangled corpse in the lupercal court as the psychic shock sends the entire ninth legion (minus Zephon) into a berserk rage. I really can't think of a better word for it than traumatic. After all they've been through together during the siege to have the blood angels turn into actual monsters against their will is just twisting the knife for the loyalists. From Rans desperate fight for survival against a man he idolizes to Amit waking up dazed and confused at the end of a trail of corpses ("why do the bodys end here?" "That's as far as you got" kills me), it's safe to say nobody is having a good time.

Scratch that you know who is having a pretty good time? Rogal Dorn. Fresh out of the desert of endless boredom Rogal finally gets to let loose a little as he fights his way to Valdor. I love their dynamic and I wish we got more of them hanging out("damn you!"(frustrated) "damn you too."(affectionate)).

We check in with Fo and the genocide crew which ends predictably. I saw him completing the Terminus sanction then getting killed trying to escape a mile away. I did not see him making a fucking clone body and replace Xanthus! I love me a devious old scientist causing problems on purpose! I really hope he comes back in a big way.

The library crew didn't do a whole lot other than Ariman being a creepy magic man. It is buck wild that the archivist turned out to be Lilean Chase at the beginning of her career she goes on to found the fucking Cognitae so get it girl I guess.

The did my boy Loken so dirty in the end but fuck me was it good. They planted seeds earlier on talking about how a demon is made, a reaction in the warp to a traumatic event in real space, how in the warp effect can come before cause. But fuck me I wasn't expecting this. After the dust settles and Loken almost convinces Abaddon to give reconciliation a chance Erebus (fuck Erebus) stabs him in the back dooming the galaxy to endless civil war. And why did he do this? Because Samus is the man beside you, Samus right behind you, Samus is the guy she told you not to worry about, look out it's fucking Samus! The abrupt murder of Loken gives birth to the Demon Samus kicking all of this shit into motion. It truly is all Erebus's fault.

I saved the best for last. The showdown on the vengeful spirit. This is where Horus really gets tho shine. I haven't loved his character like this since the first couple of books. He's a fucking mess and I love it this is the man who's daddy issues burned the galaxy to the ground, and as someone who has a difficult relationship with my father fuck me I get it. Dan Abnet is so good at making fights feel intimate, Horus isn't a one dimensional avatar of evil hes a son confronting his abusive father. Horus doesn't want to kill his father he wants to be better than him, and not just stronger but a better person. He needs the Emperor to acknowledge that he had hurt Horus. Horus loved his father and wanted to reach out him on an emotional level so badly, but the Emperor was simply no longer able to do that. When the Emperor purged himself of the infant god the dark king his kindness and empathy went with it ( going on to create the star child). This emperor is nothing but power and cold fury. He enters the room having already written Horus off as dead. It's such a tragedy from top to bottom because we know from Malcador in his all knowing position on the golden throne, that there is a version of this confrontation where they both walk out alive. That does not happen.

The actual physical fight is nothing to write home about besides the fact that different people see it happening in different ways Dusk sees it as a clumsy slugfest between two lumbering giants while LE2 saw it as the greatest display of skill he had ever seen. In truth it was both. The psychic battle had them tossing each other across time and space and fighting through the sites of each other's greatest sins. They use the settings to try and undermine each other emotionally holy shit. Then the do the next logical step AND HAVE A FUCKING TAROT DECK YU-GI-OH DUEL! I need an imperial tarot card game right now GW take my fucking money. It ends with the cards predicting the fall of cadia (the despoiler unlocking the silver door) and the emperor loses. It has become obvious by this point that the Emperor can't beat Horus. Horus outclasses him in every way but Horus doesn't want to kill his father he wants acknowledgement. So what we get is several desperate attempts by the emperor and several others to fight back as Horus beats his father bloody. But nothing works until Oll and John show up having magically teleported much closer than they ment to. They stand right in front of Horus. Horus is bemused at best giving John just enough time to use the word he learned from the tower of Babel directly in Horus's smug face. The resulting blast nearly kills everyone in the room, but it's the first thing so far to actually damage Horus. While her recovers John makes a run for it but Oll goes to the Emperor gives him the athame (stone knife used to commit the first murder) and tries to wake him up. Only for Horus to wake up first and turn poor Oll to a fine red mist.

Finally Horus stands there triumphant and who is there but his own favorite son Loken. Loken is the only one who tries to reason with Horus to make him see the the chaos gods are using and manipulating him. It was a great touch to frame Horus pov in 2nd person as if someone is telling Horus his thoughts. Loken convinces Horus that he's not really in control anymore and the only way Horus can take back control is to give up the power that the gods gave him. The moment he does back on Terra Keeler uses the power of millions of praying souls to relight the astronomicon and and give the Emperor a font of power to tap into. The emperor rises as if from the dead. Horus at first tries to pull the power back but the gods hold onto it as punishment for spurning them. Then Horus looks at the Emperor empowered as an avatar of humanities faith and he finally understands. The gods panic and try to force their power back into him and Horus begs his father to kill him now while he can resist. Then it happens a father murders his son. The emperor tells Horus "I forgive you and I'll wait for you". Excuse me Dan Abnet what exactly does that mean? Horus returned? Ghost Horus? Reincarnated? What the fuck? From there it's mostly just wrapping up they teleport home and we get the last gasp of Malcador as they place the Emperor on the golden throne.

If you read this thank you this was mostly for me because I needed an outlet for my feelings and I don't want to bother my friends to much with Warhammer. It's been a wild ride and I can't wait to see where it goes from here (especially the third Bequin book).

[lavampira]

trust fall

malena shepard x kaidan alenko. mass effect 3; post-geth dreadnought. 2k words. [also on ao3]

Malena doesn’t scream when her hand misses the ledge. Her heart races like it’s in a damn marathon as she floats in zero grav, which in its defense, she has been trying to outrun the explosions behind her, and a hoarse gasp rips past her lips in sheer frustration that’s mirrored by someone swearing over the comm, but she does not scream. Not even with the imploding geth ship under her.

“Shepard!”

Tali, her brain supplies. She ignores her for the time being. She’s on autopilot now, maybe flipped that switch from the moment she had to walk her way through space not even five minutes into this mission, reliving an experience that she definitely would’ve preferred not to again. But she can think about that later.

Her mind does run through a mental list, though. Garrus. Tali. Legion, whom she hadn’t expected to see, but she can’t say that she’s unhappy about it even with that chunk of her old, charred N7 chest plate still fused over his circuits. The first two are safe. The latter snatches her hand out of the air, tugging her back to the walkway to lead her through a new escape plan.

Someone else—Joker, maybe—calls over the comm as they flee in a geth fighter, Legion at its helm. She thinks she answers this time, but she can’t be sure. Briefly, she thinks of Kaidan, still on the Normandy in a search for his students when they’d left, but she pushes aside those thoughts, too. Her teeth chatter and muscles shake with the excess of adrenaline the entire way.

As shitty as the mission has gone, she’s almost surprised that they make it back in one piece.

The relief when they finally pass through the airlock and her boots are firmly back on the Normandy floods her. It’s almost funny in a warped sort of way, considering she’d died on the last one. But Garrus lightly knocks her shoulder’s armor plate with a gentle fist on his way past her, that simple reflex of their old routine after all these years briefly settling her frayed nerves, further grounding her to the sanctuary of her ship.

Not that it lasts.

Malena stews through the Quarians’ debrief. She wants to kick the admiralty off the ship, wants to yell over the conference line that it was stupid to start a war with the galaxy at stake and even stupider to fire on a dreadnought with the woman bending over backwards to help them still on it, but she does none of those things. She bites her tongue hard enough for the metallic tang of blood to fill her mouth and plays at civility with her trembling hands folded behind her back until it’s done.

The fact is that more than her frustration that so few people are willing to consider the risks of division while the Reapers decimate whole worlds, and being the one in the unfortunate position of trying to hold them all together with scraps of hope to even stand a chance, she hates that this is the mission threatening to undo her.

All because of her own fear.

She can fight through fear—her entire career has been shaped around her capacity to do it and accomplish the impossible in spite of it. But in the aftermath when the adrenaline ebbs and the quiet sets in again, that’s the real pain in the ass. By the time that she manages to scrub the sweat from her body and soot residue from her armor, change into a plain tee that she’d confiscated from Kaidan some time ago and hangs slightly loose over her frame, and lower herself to her cabin’s lounge with her face in her hands, it’s begun to eat away at her composure.

Malena was born in space. Her childhood had been spent moving from ship to ship with parents in the Alliance, never spending much time on any singular planet besides infrequent visits. Her adult life had been dedicated to serving the Alliance herself, training at Arcturus and Grissom, going through the N7 program, and then bunking on other ships until she had one of her own to command. She’s trained so thoroughly for spacewalks that she could damn well do one in her sleep. It should’ve been like any other day for her.

The problem lies in the fact that she had died in space, too. Blown right out of her very first ship trying to save her pilot, suffocated in her own malfunctioning suit, and burned in Alchera’s atmosphere, only to wake on a Cerberus lab table two years later with recreated parts that still discomfort her thoughts and residual terror from the experience seared into her psyche, apparently.

Kaidan eventually finds her in her cabin—or theirs, she supposes, now that he’s tentatively moved in his belongings for some semblance of normalcy as a couple despite everything else going to hell around them—with a soft hiss of the door granting him access. She can tell by his quiet pause at the entry that he’s skimming the room for her.

“Hey, there you are,” he calls softly. She doesn’t know exactly what her face shows when she finally glances up, but it must be a doozy because his thick brows furrow, and he adds, “You okay?”

I’m fine, Malena wants to say. How many times does she say it in a day? Fine, fine, fine. Chin up, back straight. It’s a necessity on a ship—if others see their commanding officer lose her shit, morale goes right out the airlock. And so Commander Shepard has the situation under control, and if she doesn’t, then she’ll get it there.

She opens her mouth to speak, but her voice breaks before she can form a word.

Kaidan is there in an instant. He kneels in front of her, searching her face with those soft brown eyes until she ducks her head. If she looks at him too long, she will cry, and that will only worry him more. She can only imagine what his train of thought was already doing while she was aboard that damn ship.

Guilt pools low in her gut and propels her forward, sinking into the warmth of his arms that open instinctively to hold her. His stubbled cheek prickles against her skin as he leans his face against her, but she doesn’t mind, tethered by the familiarity of that simple gesture. She rests her own head on his shoulder, allowing herself this singular point of comfort.

“So, rough day, huh?”

Malena huffs a laugh into his neck. “Understatement of the century.”

“Yeah. If you want to talk about it… I mean, I don’t know. You’ve listened to me through the hard things. I want to be here for you, too, if you’ll let me.”

“You always are.”

“Not always,” he returns ruefully. “But I’d like us to be better.”

The heaviness in his voice forces her to draw back to see him better in the dim lighting of the room. Her palm finds his cheek, letting her thumb sweep away the regret pulling at his features. In so many ways, Horizon and Mars still haunt the space between them as much as her death, every step to get past it seemingly a monumental one at times. But they’re trying, and that’s enough for her.

She could deflect it with a joke. It would be so easy to do it, shooting him a little smirk around a teasing comment, maybe bring a soft laugh out of him for even a moment. It doesn’t feel right with all his earnesty on display, though. Not when her resolve is still so close to shattering in his arms and her latest brush with death, far too similar to the real one, lingers over their heads.

“Hey, you’ve got me,” Malena finally says, trailing her hand to brush back a dark curl fallen over his forehead. “This is when it matters. And you’re here.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as if fighting the urge to smile. “I thought I was supposed to be reassuring you.”

“Well, maybe we both need a little of it right now.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

Kaidan reaches for the hand still cradling his face, twisting it to press his lips to the sensitive skin of her wrist, right above her pulse. A reminder that she’s alive, though she can’t be certain if it’s more for his sake or for hers. All she knows is that it’s become a habit ever since they decided to stop holding back how they feel for each other and a comfort all the same.

Before she can react to it, he rises from the floor and slides easily into the space beside her, tugging her close with an arm wound around her back. Part of her wants to protest that she still has reports to make before she can allow herself a reprieve. But she also knows he will just fight her on it, equally stubborn and insistent in his care, and so she caves into it. She rests her head against his shoulder and settles her strong thighs over his lap, his free arm holding them in place.

“These are the moments that scare the hell out of me,” he says quietly.

“What, cuddling?”

“No.” An uneasy laugh escapes him. “Thinking of how I could’ve lost you again, and how I wasn’t even there.”

Malena swallows around a lump in her throat, but she steadies herself, tightening her grip on him for purchase. Last time he had voiced something like it, she’d quipped that she had a problem staying dead anyway. Guilt still gnaws at her chest for how horribly quiet he had gone, how tense and rigid his body had grown with her remark. No matter how much she wants to brush off the thought, even to alleviate the dour mood, she doesn’t want to go there again.

Instead, she confesses, “It scared the shit out of me, too.”

It might have been her lowest point yet. The walk between ships had seemed vast and endless, only made longer by how often she’d stopped to double check her omni-tool that her suit was still intact because everything was so silent save for her labored breathing in rattled bursts. Even with Garrus’ snark to keep her company over the comm channel, she couldn’t fully hide the damn shake in her voice with each response. Her heart had been hammering hard enough in her chest to feel lightheaded and unsteady in her boots by the time that she got the other entry open for the others.

“Yeah, I… Well, Garrus might’ve mentioned it. I mean, I’d figured it could trudge up some memories, but he seemed pretty worried, too.”

Her eyes squeeze shut as she buries her face further into him. “That traitor.”

“He’s looking out for you. Can’t fault him for that.” A placating kiss is placed on the top of her head. “You know, you’re strong, Mal. Maybe the strongest person I know. But even you can be shaken up.”

“I can’t— I’m not supposed to show it.”

“You can with me. I’ve got you, remember?”

Kaidan draws her closer to emphasize his point, or maybe out of his own reassurance as well. It doesn’t alleviate all of the residual fear and frustration, Malena finds, but some of the weight does feel marginally lifted from her chest with the fervent honesty in his words. She raises her head to respond, but her throat feels too tight to speak, forcing her to take an alternate approach.

She presses a kiss to his temple, right on the dark hair flecked in more silver than it had been a few years ago. You do.

Another kiss to his stubbled cheek. Thank you.

And a final one to his lips, ignoring the uncomfortable chafe of his fatigue pants against her legs as she shifts in his lap to face him more fully, desperate for the proximity as he matches her breath for breath. I love you.

If he doesn’t understand, Kaidan doesn’t say. He simply takes the gesture in stride as he finally allows himself a small smile against her lips. And Malena has to admit, letting herself drop the veneer of unshakable strength is as exhilarating as it is terrifying with the man who loves her doing his damnedest to get her through it, despite everything they face.

It’s a trust fall, but it’s one she realizes she’ll make every time.

[burstingwithbellies]

As requested:

I stand before you, pen and clipboard in hand. "And how are we feeling today?"

I am met with a moan of... pain? Pleasure? A mixture thereof? Like the lowing of a cow, though at this point such a comparison is way too generous. Nonetheless, I jot down my findings and begin my routine checkup.

At your current size, it takes a whole minute of straight walking to circumnavigate your body, or more precisely your belly. It's a colossal thing, a literal mound of flesh that I could crawl atop of. And every square inch is packed with babies, hundreds of them according to the latest ultrasound. Layers and layers of children overlapping one another. There are babies deep inside you that have never known the caress of an outside hand; only the hands and feet of their many siblings in every conceivable direction, all competing for a little more personal space.

As such, your belly is never still. Your flesh, impossibly taut as it may seem at a glance, is always subtly writhing, undulating like the sea. You certainly have enough amniotic fluid sloshing about inside to masquerade as one. As a matter of fact, I write down that idea: *Record audio of amniotic fluid, test against actual ocean noise, ask subjects to discern the two.*

I continue my rounds, looking up and down the expanse of your belly for anything concerning, noting places where new stretch marks and bruises have formed for later lotion and oil application. In the last few months, we've gone through lifetime supplies of both, which is only appropriate, on second thought. You're creating many, many lives within you. I squeeze your protruding belly button--long lost to you--as I pass by it, but the sensation might be lost on you, when you're constantly contending with the squirming of your brood.

After several minutes, my evaluation is complete and I meet you again, face to face. "Looks like you've grown a few more inches since yesterday," I cheerfully inform you. Again, you moan piteously, not even making eye contact. Understandably so. You're so pregnant that it occupies your every waking thought. I'm barely a presence to you. Which suits me just fine. I mark the time, document my intention, then I click my pen closed and set the whole thing aside on a nearby table.

The rest of your body is elevated off the ground, so I must climb a few steps to reach the platform we’ve built around you. Out in front of you, there is a recess for each of your titanic breasts, which have similarly swelled to titanic proportions in order to feed the legion growing inside you. You started producing milk six weeks ago, and since then we’ve had industrial-strength siphons attached to your breasts, pumping around the clock so it doesn’t painfully build up. Even so, you produce almost as quickly as we’re able to safely extract. Every drop we manage to wring out of you is bottled and placed in cold storage, as there won’t be enough time in the day for you to breastfeed every one of your babies. In this regard, and others, you have exceeded our wildest projections. You’re too good at this.

I slip behind you, comfortably settling on the same seat you are. There is ample space, which your body seems to have taken as a challenge. Your ass cheeks are huge and pillowy, a natural consequence of how many calories you’re forced to consume to fuel this impossible pregnancy and the sedentary lifestyle said pregnancy enforces. Needless to say, you’ve grown quite fat. Your ass cheeks alone, huge and pillowy, threaten to engulf my form as I spread them apart to reach my objective: your quivering, constantly dripping pussy. You may be barely cognizant of your surroundings, but your body immediately recognizes mine.. Your hips instinctually align with mine for easier docking. “Such an obedient pet,” I whisper into your ear as I press my cock inside you, grunting with some effort since you’re so tight and swollen. My hands glide across your tender skin, raising goosebumps with just the tips of my fingers. "Your whole body is so sensitive." Your moaning increases in pitch. "Perhaps some part of you recognizes that I am taking advantage of you. But what can you do about it? Your brain is mush, all scrambled from being a baby factory. And to think, you volunteered for this. A post grad student hoping to pay off his debt. How could you have known we would turn you into this," I squeeze some of your flesh. "A fat guinea pig is what you are. Nothing but a pair of tits and a womb. You're not even a person anymore, you're property-a piece of equipment, hardware, in our mission to push the limits of human potential. Hundreds of babies are growing inside you. So who's going to notice one or two more?" That is when I begin to fuck you in earnest, causing your fat to quiver and ripple with each thrust of mine. Pathetic sounds tumble out of your mouth every time I push, but you can't possibly form the words telling me to stop. You haven't burst yet, but that's always a concern at the very back of your mind. You're much too pregnant already, surely you cannot stomach even one more baby, the next one will surely be the one to break the camel's back (or water, in this case). But that exact thought has run through your mind before, every time I've fucked you over the course of this pregnancy, every morning after evaluation, and though your body complains every time, skin creaking in protest as it's forced to expand further... I can't recall a single drop of my seed ever escaping your pussy. Truly, your reproductive system is insatiable.

I check the watch on my wrist, and register surprise. "Evaluation took longer today. Guess I'll have to speed things up. But don't worry, I'll have you screaming by the end of this like always~"

My children. The brood. The populace in my gut. Yet another baby plumps up my stuffed gut. My stomach cries at the new addition to the batch. I become more distended, breaking a new record for the new hour.

I can’t stop the cycle. I’ve lost everything to you. My dignity, my humanity, my body, my mind, my freedom. But I’ve accepted it to some degree.

Throughout all the trauma inflicted on my womb and pangs of pain of being such an overburdened papa, I do still find pleasure. My body has been receptive to all the arduous challenges you have tasked upon me and parting my legs was always the easiest part.

Taking in your cock is natural, of course, your seed is the consequence and pregnancy would have been inevitable. But the sheer number of occupants…?

Well, I almost can’t blame anyone else for this predicament other than myself. At one point, I could have refused. But I just kept taking you on and giving into this pleasure and this hedonism that is so deep within me.

Now, there’s really nowhere else I can turn to… but you.

I can hardly remember the outside world or who I was before. It wouldn’t matter now; it’s not like I can return. I’m serving a new purpose. I’ve become something bigger than that what I was before. Both literally and figuratively.

I can’t quit. No, not until I pop or when all these babies eventually pass out of me.

Or when you eventually grow tired of me, which I highly doubt would ever happen. Many things escape my hollow mind, but I knew as much that I was your plow horse; your cum disposal. Not your life-size doll, but what is yours and bigger than life.

And I’m disposed to you. You’re my mine as much as I am yours but perhaps, this “relationship” is still less than mutual. My pussy aches whenever you are around. You have sown my appetite and it becomes fiercer with each encounter I have with you.

Satisfy me, even though it hurts.