#last dreadnought

[lonestarbattleship]

Battleship Texas in Drydock at Gulf Copper, Galveston, Texas, on September 25, 2022

Photographed by Bob Holler: link

[jet-teeth]

What if 40k dreadnoughts but they are inspired by those wacky 1800s dive suits

(None of whatever I'm about to queue up is remotely canon, I'm just having fun with design ideas!)

[mrwhite55]

Ignis dead.

Creator: @Mick19988 (Twitter)

[queer-book-character-tournament]

Character, book, and author names under the cut

Danny Tozer- Dreadnought by April Daniels

Humaira Khan- Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating by Adiba Jaigirdar

Richard St Vier- Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner

Rune Saint John- The Tarot Sequence by KD Edwards

[baylardo]

haha imagine like season 2 threshold!j*neway during Dreadnought or something when shes gonna sacrifice herself while the crew escape pods like shes in her SUPER TOXIC MOM PHASE but omg imagine her kissing the still newborn babies on da heads before chakotay leaves with them 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i bet shed still be reserved to believe theyll be better without her or like at least she can do this one thing for them before dying. IM JUST SAYIIINGGGGG she has that final interaction with Tom too where theres this UNSPOKEN THIIIINGGGGGG between them 😏❤️ she might actually not even be thinking about the repercussions of her sacrifice for them bc at that moment in her mind she ISNT their mother so shes like no harm done lol

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

tagged by @flameandignite to post 4 albums I've been listening to lately!

1. jigen fanmix - a wonderful mix cd from @internal-morgan !!

2. foreign skies - the dreadnoughts (their best album imho. i was and am the exact target audience for this. i've been listening to them a lot again lately on account of...)

3. green willow - the dreadnoughts (...this fun new album! their previous album really did not hit for me (with the exception of “vicki's polka,” now among my favorite dreadnoughts tracks), so i was glad that this one was such a great return to form!)

4. outlaws and bystanders - ken theriot (fairly solid filk album i found on a whim a few days ago. “the ride of el cid” stood out most to me (i liked digging into that text in college); definitely could've done without the anti-romani racism in “little egypt” though.)

tagging @witchklng @heartofalark @maryse127 @dandunn @socialjusticebard @internal-morgan @stardustandtwilight @bookshop-cryptid @majortomiscominghome and anyone else who wants to do this, just say i tagged you!

[mousegirlheart]

In the past two weeks I’ve given up on youtube and video games and now pass the time by reading and have read all of these so far. Yes I’m counting visual novels. Havin the time of my life.

[floating-hasselblad]

That’s honestly terrifying

[theartofangirling]

part 2 of the 2023 version of this post: young adult books!

part 1: middle grade books | part 3: adult books

this is a very incomplete list, as these are only books I've read and enjoyed. not all books are going to be for all readers, so I'd recommend looking up synopses and content warnings. feel free to message me with any questions about specific representation!

list of books under the cut ⬇️

aces wild by amanda dewitt

the chandler legacies by abdi nazemian

bruised by tanya boteju

juliet takes a breath by gabby rivera

picture us in the light by kelly loy gilbert

when we were magic by sarah gailey

iron widow by xiran jay zhao

the rise of kyoshi by f.c. yee

jane unlimited by kristin cashore

summer of salt by katrina leno

the wicker king by k. ancrum

the dead and the dark by courtney gould

wilder girls by rory power

i kissed shara wheeler by casey mcquiston

her royal highness by rachel hawkins

tell me how you really feel by aminah mae safi

the weight of the stars by k. ancrum

you should see me in a crown by leah johnson

last night at the telegraph club by malinda lo

the grief keeper by alexandra villasante

crier's war by nina varela

how to excavate a heart by jake maia arlow

imogen, obviously by becky albertalli

in other lands by sarah rees brennan

carry on by rainbow rowell

cemetery boys by aiden thomas

felix ever after by kacen callendar

i wish you all the best by mason deaver

little thieves by margaret owen

technically you started it by lana wood johnson

the gentleman's guide to vice and virtue by mackenzi lee

the infinite noise by lauren shippen

bonds of brass by emily skrutskie

the darkness outside us by eliot schrefer

simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda by becky albertalli

what if it's us by becky albertalli and adam silvera

aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe by benjamin alire sáenz

like a love story by abdi nazemian

different for boys by patrick ness

history is all you left me by adam silvera

twelfth grade night by molly horton booth, stephanie kate strohm, and jamie green

across a field of starlight by blue delliquanti

heartstopper by alice oseman

check, please! by ngozi ukazu

bloom by kevin panetta and savanna ganucheau

laura dean keeps breaking up with me by mariko tamaki and rosemary valero-o'connell

the princess and the grilled cheese sandwich by deya muniz

if you'll have me by eunnie

on a sunbeam by tillie walden

the girl from the sea by molly knox ostertag

always human by ari north

rust in the root by justina ireland

dread nation by justina ireland

pet by awkwaeke emezi

the darkest part of the forest by holly black

elatsoe by darcie little badger

i was born for this by alice oseman

loveless by alice oseman

i hate everyone but you by gaby dunn and allison raskin

you know me well by nina lacour and david levithan

the black flamingo by dean atta

spinning by tillie walden

dreadnought by april daniels

a lesson in vengeance by victoria lee

all the bad apples by moira fowley-doyle

clap when you land by elizabeth acevedo

summer bird blue by akemi dawn bowman

the miseducation of cameron post by emily m. danforth

we are okay by nina lacour

radio silence by alice oseman

we used to be friends by amy spalding

a neon darkness by lauren shippen

i hope you get this message by farah naz rishi

are you listening? by tillie walden

alone in space by tillie walden

all out edited by saundra mitchell

out now edited by saundra mitchell

out there edited by saundra mitchell

[carionto]

When in doubt, duct it

The prevalence of mass printers means that if the design is functional, anything can be built. Humanity boasts the largest orbital shipyards in the known Galaxy, capable of constructing vessels beyond reasonable scope and complexity, which they need to be able to do due to the sheer number of redundant systems, safety features, and the compartmentalized nature of their space craft.

So why is that half of them begin to look cobbled together after a while? Nearly all civilian craft appear unique, every single small military craft has personal modifications reflecting the pilot's and crew's personalities. We've even seen whole engineering teams rip out large sections of their massive Dreadnoughts and replace them with parts from others. One time we even saw them cut off the propulsion system of a smaller Destroyer and just...

plug it under a Capital ship.

Once again, we desperately are trying to understand the nature behind this odd behavior.

"Well, the architects and designers do a fine job, but when the rubber meats the road, or I should say, when you bump into an asteroid for the first time, only then you begin to understand what each ship is like, you know? A good pilot and crew can feel what their ship wants to really be only after you've been on it for a while.

Any ship or station starts off as a blank slate, but after a while it starts to develop a personality. And like any good friend, they take care of you, so you take care of them. Sometimes the lights just aren't right, so you replace them with a different model. Other times the recoil tilts it a little bit to where it makes the life support hiccup, so you gotta add a counterweight, but not just anything, it has to fit the vibe. Then that has it's own little complaints, and it just goes on like that.

As a matter of fact, the oldest ship in the Fleet started off as a Carrier, but over time the crew, without saying a word, just knew it was meant to be a Battleship. A few "surgeries" later and the Jubilant Axolotl added six extra generators and now can't hold a single fighter craft, is always leaking something, and has two of the biggest Rail Cannons we've ever built. She could probably punch a hole through Mars if she overloaded all her generators, but the crew think that that would be the last thing she, and everything within a few hundred thousand kilometers, ever does."

[shiyorin]

Do Dreadnoughts dream of taking a bath?

#Inspired by PowerWash x Warhammer 40K and Roco.

#I love Dreadnought.

"Do Dreadnoughts dream?"

That is a question with no certain answer. On one hand, a Dreadnought is more machine than man, neural implants fuse mind to machine in ways bizarre to comprehend. Their armored carapace shelters only remnants of flesh, sustained through bionic might alone. By all rights, their cerebral cortex should have decayed long ago.

By such logic, one could argue conscious thought ends where flesh yields to steel. Sleep and its dreamscapes are biological realities, are they not? With only trace humanity remaining, why expect mental functions of slumber? But integrated into their armored shells are enough enhanced organs and neural implants to sustain bioniorganic functions far beyond mere biological viability. Isn't the nature of dream itself stems from biological instincts overwritten.

The pain was a dull ache, easily ignored after centuries entombed. But a new irritation assailed him now, crawling itches across flesh long denied sensation. Confusion, this body felt change, though it had lain inert as worlds turned. Deeper still came the oppression, lungs seizing as if drowning once more in bloody. 

What trickery was this? Diagnostics reported stasis, all systems firing true. Yet the discomforts grew, phlegmy coughs racking the half-machine beast. Panic swelled, animal instincts long dormant rising within the eternal tomb. Then light, piercing the darkness behind closing lids. Sweet air rushed into ruined lungs, this labor easing at last. 

His eyes snapped open to an unfamiliar realm. No armored bulk rose before him but limbs scoured by shrapnel and burned by virus-bombs. His original form, given once more against all reason, a gift or curse, he knew not. Unfettered he stood, wounds healed to bare scars across taut flesh. This was a dream, or something. 

An uncertainty gripped him. What madness was this? To be returned to old flesh but feel no urge to battle, no call to crusade? A different impulse arose, foreign but ingrained, cleansing ritual performed eons past in youth. He walked uncertain, waters calling him to rites unseen by any in aeons untold. 

Ribs still bore flecks of ceramite and plasteel patched within living shell. He paused before the waters, studying form that had known only warfare. Scars told their own tales, each etched upon memories kept alive through aeons in stasis. With care he entered in that, waters lapping old wounds as if in benediction. 

There he lingered, letting cares and pains wash freely away. Muscles long locked in adamantium relaxed, tension fleeing in steam rising. For the first time in memory untold, no demands of duty or flesh assailed him. A feeling swelled within him, emotion locked beyond reach of mortal sensation. Peace, serenity swept over ancient minds as waters sloughed away cares of ages...

Pain pulsed through his battered form as consciousness returned. The fleeting peace of dreams melted away, centuries of enforced half-life onboard the Dreadnought crashing back upon ancient shoulders. Systems booted sluggishly, sensors recalibrating after solaris of monotony disturbed. 

A hum escaped grille as servos whirred back to their duties securing crumpled flesh deeper than mortal sight could pierce. Outside clangs and grinding announced the diligent ministrations of tech-priests ensuring their perpetual charge clung yet to shadow of function. One voice carried clearly through armored carapace:

"Vitals stabilize in sector C-12 Magos. Neural links firing within tolerances." The Tech-priest's voice rang through microphones.

"Understood. Continue maintenance protocols and monitor for anomalies. This relic has served faithfully many centuries. Pray for the Omnissiah." The Magos's bionics buzzed in compliance. They ensured history marched on, whatever hulls preserved that march.

With effort, aged vox-grille creaked open. "Brother, I was dreaming." Static laced speech imparted by cobbled augmetics mere palliates for ravaged throat too ruined for basic sounds. The Techmarine's etheric sensors detected words nonetheless.

A static pause preceded Techmarine's reply. "Dreaming? Impossible, your neural engrams show only baseline activity."

Mirthless chuckle issued from loudspeakers. "Impossible, yes, But I dream... I'm taking a bath." 

Silence answered as Techmarine puzzled over the incomprehensible scene. "The priests scrub your plating clean as monthly rite. Perhaps some synapse misfired."

Silence reigned for moments uncounted as ritual continued outside. Then, a final whisper from within. "Indeed. A... nice dream." 

With that, consciousness fell back into lowest-level rest as painkillers suffused systems. The Techmarine watched monitors return to quiescent patterns, then signaled to close the Dreadnought once more. Its machine spirit's notions were beyond his. The armored tomb closed, and darkness reigned once more.

[lonestarbattleship]

Battleship Texas at night, on January 20, 2023.

Posted by Casey Rollins to the Battleship Texas Foundation Group Facebook page: link

[chiefnooniensingh]

“We took out a Dreadnought!”  “At what cost?”

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Five

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 469 ~ Jake

The house sat at the top of a steep incline, up a winding driveway that had begun to be reclaimed by nature. Cracks in the cement where little shrubs had started to grow and leaves that were never blown away. Neglected and abandoned.

It reminded me a little of Josh's house. With pristine edges and white walls, coveted by obscure works of art. Book shelves that were gathering dust and kitchen utensils left out on the surfaces as if the owners had just stepped out of the room.

Amelia seemed to know where she was going. "I found this place a couple of months after I moved into Grandma's cabin."

She led me down a narrow corridor, flanked by a bank of full length windows overlooking a sweeping back yard that was shrouded by trees. Photo's of the family who once lived there sitting on the wall opposite, happy faces forever immortalised for no one else to ever see.

"I hit every house within a 10 mile radius. Looking for supplies, anything that I could use. Food, toiletries. And I was about to leave when I noticed this..."

She stopped at the end of the corridor, leaning against a nondescript door. Her face sincere as she ran hands up my arms, coming to rest around my shoulders.

"We have to take whatever joy we can find in this world." She said, "And if we're lucky, we'll take back some of the joys we had before."

I'd known nothing but joy since I'd almost died. There wasn't a single moment I'd had with her that hadn't made me question whether I would take any of it back to have the world filled with every other person I'd ever loved again.

It was something I'd wrestled with. The notion that I could happily exist in a world I'd come to hate simply because she was in it with me. I was thinking about Josh again when she opened the door, simply because I'd been reminded of him. And the certainty within which I knew I wouldn't take any of it back, even if it meant having him back, drew a conflict within the likes of which I'd never known before.

But it was all for nothing. As I stepped into the room she'd been eager to show me, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I loved her enough to never want the old world back.

"Amelia..." I gasped. "What in the...fuck."

Mounted on an oak panelled wall were an array of vintage guitars. A brazilian board 1959 Gibson Les Paul. Shining in the last rays of the afternoon sun. I reached out and touched it, trembling as my fingers remembered what it felt like to know strings. A custom Fender strat in dark red with a black mottled pattern that looked like spilled paint if you looked too closely. A plain red stratocaster and an acoustic Martin dreadnought with a mahogany neck.

"I know that you said you didn't play anymore. Not without your brothers. But I think you should play again. For them. To them. And maybe somehow, I don't know how insane it might be, but maybe they'll hear you. Wherever they are..."

She was nervous. Biting her lip and wringing her hands in the sleeves of her sweater. Anticipating that I'd reject the sweetness of her idea, of this perfect gift.

"You brought me here because you knew that I would love it, didn't you?" I asked, although it wasn't really a question.

"Is that so bad?" She replied, opening her arms as if I would somehow be mad at her.

The room was decked out with framed vinyls. Some were so old I'd never seen them before. There were a few more guitars leaned up against the opposite wall and a beaten up drum kit in the window. It looked as if it had been played to death, with the cymbals hanging off and the kick drum looked as if one more pound on it would tear it right in half.

"It's not bad at all, why would you think that?" I pulled her into me, her little body slotting into my embrace like it had always meant to be there. "Just because I said I didn't play anymore doesn't mean I wouldn't love this."

She rested her head against my shoulder. Let me sway her back and forth a little. Everything was so eerily quiet. Up here the wind howled a little more than it did around the cabin. It sounded like ghosts were singing to us, begging me to pick up one of those fine old ladies.

"Maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I just wanted to hear you for myself." She looked up at me, resting her lips on my jawline.

"Plenty have paid for the privilege." I replied, "What will you pay me for a private show?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I saved your life. This is you paying me, sweet thing."

She laughed and buried her face into my neck, kissing me there and holding me tight around my waist. Familiar and wholesome. Like she hadn't tried to push me away at all in the beginning.

She was the most incredible woman I had ever known. Her fears were like shadows now, she had this uncanny ability to turn them into her most beloved passions. Once she had been afraid to love me. And now, the ways in which she loved me were making me feel unworthy of it.

"Sometimes I don't think you realise how much you saved me." I told her, casting my eye on the acoustic. "Not just from that car wreck. But from a life of misery."

Of course I would play for her. If not her, then nobody. She made herself comfortable on a shaggy looking bean bag, folding herself into it and resting her head against her curled fist as she regarded me. I pulled the mahogany acoustic down from the wall, not wanting to tend to wires and amps just yet.

I considered coming up with something on the fly, but it had been so long since I had tinkered with strings that my mind began to wander so far away I couldn't make them work. I strummed a little, hearing the notes play out and something weird happened. I thought I'd never feel this ever again, this visceral wave that washed over me to the point of almost growing hard as I felt the back of the guitar against my groin.

Her eyes widened. She wasn't prepared.

"How does it make you feel, to have an audience again?" She asked softly, seductively.

The strings needed tuning a little. I turned the keys at the top of the neck, plucking out chords until they sounded pitch perfect.

"Sexy." I replied, "I always felt sexy whenever I went out on stage. They made me feel sexy. Kinda the same way you are now. Knowing they want to fuck you every time you play for them."

I didn't realise how much I missed the adrenaline. The feral cries of a crowd. Their voices rising in unison. Lights and screaming and the feeling that I might ascend with their love. I'd been someone in my life before. I'd known what it felt like to open my eyes and know I was doing something I loved completely. I hadn't felt like this in what felt like a life time.

"This is who you are, Jake." She uttered, sliding her hand down the curve of her hips. "You can't run from who you are forever."

I felt as if I didn't deserve her. For all she had done for me, for how incredible she was. There was no crowd that could ever compare to the way I felt in that moment playing for her.

"I can't sing our songs like Josh could." I confessed, "I'd be a poor imitation. But I'll try."

I couldn't hold the same power with my voice that my brother could. The part of me that had promised never to play again still sat in the shadows whispering to me that it would never be the same. But louder than that was Amelia's face watching me strum out the first chords of a song that meant everything to me.

"What's it called?" She asked.

Day 469 ~ Amelia

I knew he would love it. I'd all but forgotten about the little music room at the back of the big house on the corner of the road that led into Lafayette. It had meant nothing to me the first time I'd ventured in there. There was nothing in there that was of any use to me.

But today, it was like seeing the sun peek out from a grey cloud. I'd gone from doing everything in my power to ensure that he was never necessary to me, to doing everything in my power just to see him smile.

"It's called Broken Bells." He replied, "Josh used to say that it was about seeing that when things sometimes feel broken most of the time they're just lessons sent to help us see that everything will be alright in the end. I really wish he could be here to see that he was so fucking right."

What would I have done if he hadn't felt the same? I could feel myself dying a little inside at the melancholy way he played. His face expressing his grief. He played so hauntingly beautifully, in a way I hadn't really been prepared for. He closed his eyes and didn't even need to look at the way his fingers moved across the strings. He knew them, and they responded to him so lovingly. Almost as if they were an entity all of their own, able to come when he called.

If he hadn't have loved me in return I'd have been driven mad by it. Every rational bone in my body broken if I'd been forced to live beside him unrequited. I began to understand how lucky and fortunate I was as he began to sing. That he and I were somehow fated. And it wasn't just a coincidence that he was driving past me that day. He was creation and I was necessity. He'd made music for a world that needed to hear it and I'd treated them when they were sick. And for some unfathomable reason, we'd been left behind to exist together in this empty world.

But empty didn't have to mean broken. There was nothing but love in the world again. Nothing but this painful song that made tears spill from my eyes as I watched him and listened. What if this song was the only one being played? And the only one being listened to? I had hope that if anyone else had been left behind that they had somehow managed to find each other and find love within it.

"That was...beautiful." I sobbed, laughing at myself for crying at it.

He put down the guitar and came to me. Launching himself into the bean bag, the scrunchy sound of tiny styrofoam balls moving around as he wiggled into the space beside me.

"It always got an emotional reaction whenever we played it." He sighed, trailing soft palms down the side of my face. "It felt like people resonated with our songs for all different kinds of reasons. But with Broken Bells it always felt we were all on the same page. All of us feeling the same thing at the same time."

How could I have ever doubted him? This beautiful man with his beautiful music?

"I was just thinking, while you were playing it, that I hoped that somewhere out there that other people were listening to songs for the first time. That they'd found each other and found love, even in a world seemingly broken." I countered, feeling the heat of that familiar rush when I knew he was about to make love to me.

"If they aren't, then we have to love for all of those who can't." He said, trailing kisses down my jaw line.

Sometimes it felt silly. The things we said to each other. Things in the dead of night. In the cold light of day. In the middle of the afternoon when he was at his most sleepy, when he would linger in the kitchen looking to score a bowl of stew or soup before curling up on the couch with a book before he would fall asleep.

Even now, I could feel him nuzzle in. Our bodies entwined on the bean bag lazily tracing his thumb over my nipple as he sucked the flesh on my neck into perfect little shapes of his mouth.

"So, you really do like it?" I checked, just wanting to hear him say it one more time.

"Oh, yeah." He yawned, "That Les Paul is coming home with us for sure. And maybe I'll come back for the Strat, too."

I was wearing the black yoga pants I saved for hiking. The ones that I wore to collect fire wood. To muck out the horses and clear out the chicken coop. I never felt particularly sexy in them, or desirable. It felt almost like we'd become accustomed to seeing each other in our most desolate states.

But when he slipped them down around the curve of my ass and hitched me around so I was facing away from him, I was glad that I'd worn them. The way he pressed his hard on into my back and continued to roll my nipple around between his fingers as he breathed harder into my ear was the blessing I'd needed to know that I'd done the right thing.

We were both tired from the hike. Our bodies crying out for rest. The afternoon sun began to slip away, making room for cloud and darkness. I was acutely aware that there was no power in this house. No electricity. No running water. No heat. It was in my mind to interrupt his ministrations with these facts, but as his hand slipped below, coming up into my entrance from behind, I lost all manner of speech.

"You gonna let me thank you properly?" He asked, slaking two fingers inside me slowly. "Be my good girl and let me show you how much I love you?"

I was in no mood to protest. I watched the light outside fade as he ran stripes up my slit and into my clit. Whispering obscenities and freeing himself one handedly as he played with me. Letting his cock rest between his stomach and the curve of my ass, leaking a little against our flesh.

"Can you feel it?" He breathed, "How much I love you?"

It was all I could feel. There was no house. No darkness. No eerie silence as the wind rushed through the trees. Howling like there was someone out there to hear it. Only Jakes breath, the bean bag as it shuffled beneath us, and the sound of my untamed scream as he penetrated me.

He didn't try to quieten me. Buffeting my wild moans with deep thrusts that came like chasms to break me in half. Each time he bottomed out, he savoured it. Taking the briefest of moments to feel me clenched around him before pulling back slowly. The need to fuck and the need to sleep battling it out for supremacy.

"Pretty fucking grateful, aren't you?" I replied, leaning my head back into his waiting mouth.

When he was like this, all in need and eager to satisfy any way that he could, I often thought back to how it had been that first time. On the ground in the mud, knees caked in it and the earth beating in time with us. And how in the time since, we'd leisurely made love on the kitchen floor some mornings. In the shower, just stroking each other to pass the time. Him, on top of me, in the bed we now shared. And me, arms around the trunk of a tree whilst he fucked me from behind out in the woods even though it was still a little cold out there.

"For this pussy? Always." He purred into my ear, like he was serenading me.

I knew that I'd never tire of it. The way he felt inside me. The way he fit so perfectly. I never felt so full, like something had been made just for me. He wasn't just rhythm and blues, he was equipped to make me quiver with the mere mention that he might take me right there and then.

I'd lament it later on. How all my lovers before him had been lacking. How I'd swiped left and right, attended blind dates and settled when I shouldn't have. For men that couldn't make me cum or men who couldn't text me back.

"Mmmmm..." I murmured softly, arching against his quickening pace. "It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

The gentle laughter that expelled from his mouth against the shell of my ear was like summer rain. Teasing my senses, touch taste and scent. His hair was sweat drenched at his temples, as it often was when he fucked me, and I could taste the salt of it in his kiss.

"She speaks so highly of me." He breathed, "Now let her know no other man will ever have her..."

He would claim me. Over and over again. Even when there was no other to counter his claim. I let his hand wrap around my throat, edging me to the distance it would take to push me over the edge of the world. Thrusting into me so hard my entire body shook. I knew the bean bag had ripped at some point, sending the tiny little white foam balls scattered across the room. But I didn't care.

I'd keep finding them in strange places for weeks afterwards. As he rolled me onto the floor and continued to pound me, vicious and unrelenting. He'd never silenced my mewling cries before, content to let them ring out into the ether.

But not this time. It was like his gratitude couldn't be satisfied until he could hear the one sound he desired. His body raged on top of mine, our clothes half on and half off. His sweaty palm came to rest over my open mouth. Muffling my cries to a dull humm. His eyes silently pleading with me to let them die. And to just listen...

"Hush." He encouraged, resting his mouth against the back of his hand as he continued.

There it was. Against the backdrop of the breeze outside. The sound of how wet I was. His cock hitting my satiated pussy. Moist flesh against moist flesh. The most inconceivable feeling washed over me. This man, the only man that ever was, wanted to silence my mouth only to better hear the sound of my pussy being fucked.

And the drop of his eyelids as he listened had me in another state of being. Half closed and fucked with desire for the way it slipped in and out, wet and completely his.

"Thankyou, my love." He whispered, before he allowed himself to cum.

I was never certain if it was for the music, or the way I let him fuck me. I didn't really care. I let my own orgasm rise moments later, the two of us breathless and spent on the gutted belly of that old bean bag.

Day 470 ~ Amelia

We hunkered down for the night. Choosing to make our way back at first light, gathering all the blankets we could find and sleeping on the couches that were, quite simply, more luxurious than any couch we could have gotten in the cabin.

Jake took the one opposite me, falling asleep first. His gentle snores lulling me into my own dreams. It felt like no time had passed at all before my eyes sprang open, the red of morning creeping in.

I rubbed my eyes and stretched. Taking a moment to recall where I was. This place was eerie, even in daylight. And I wished that there were something, anything...that would remind me that people had once lived here. The ticking of a clock, perhaps. Or the grass being cut outside. I could have laid there a little longer, still tired and drowsy, but I was eager to be gone.

I kicked off the blankets and expected Jake to be laying there, ever the one to wake up last, but my heart fell into my stomach at the sight of the empty couch. Blankets still left precisely where he had kicked them off.

"Jake?!" I called, expecting his voice to filter down the hall from the music room.

Silence.

"Jake?!" I called again, pulling on my pants and shoes as I made my way through the house.

I expected to find him gathering up all the instruments he wanted to take. Agonising over which ones to take now and which ones to come back for. But there was nothing but the aftermath of what we'd done. And all the guitars were accounted for.

"Jake, this isn't funny." I cried, checking behind the curtains like a child playing hide and seek. "Jake, I'm being serious now!!!"

Panic began to rise in my chest. My heart soaring, making me dizzy as I flew through the house. Room after room coming up empty.

"Jake!!!" I screamed, running now. "Jake please!!!"

Had I ever given myself permission to imagine this, I would have driven myself mad. That one day he would simply vanish, like everyone else had, and truly I would have walked to my death in that moment. I had no desire to live in a world void of the man I loved.

"JACOB!!!" My voice broke on his name as I fell out of the door and into the back yard. "PLEASE!!!!"

I fell to my knees on gravel. Crying. Racking sobs expelled from me as I took fists full of tiny pebbles that cut into my flesh as I squeezed. I felt as if I couldn't breathe. My chest was tight, all the horror of him disappearing coursing through my veins as tears spilled down my flushed cheeks.

"Jake, I can't do this...you have to come back..." I begged, broken and beyond redemption.

In a matter of moments I'd gone from waking up, to screaming on my knees. I'd have thought it a nightmare had I not already endured one. The reality of this feeling was one I knew. Only this time, intensified by a love that had known no bounds. I could live in an empty world before I'd ever known him.

Not anymore.

To be Continued...

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@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy @char289

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

Theoretically, could a Primarch be put into a Dreadnought? Or does their anatomy differ so drastically from an Astartes that it wouldn't work?

So, there isn’t anything that explicitly prevents a non-astartes from being wired into a dreadnought. Custodes, who are very biologically different to Space Marines, have dreadnoughts of their own, and some amongst the forces of chaos are perfectly happy to chuck someone that really fucks them off into an available dreadnought sarcophagus.

The two primary reasons you don’t see anyone less than an astartes in a dreadnought are pretty simple; availability and strain. Dreadnoughts are rather rare and expensive to maintain and repair. Furthermore, interment into a dreadnought is both extremely painful and psychologically taxing, even for a space marine. Simply being wired into a dreadnought sarcophagus can drive a marine insane, or force them to need to sleep off the experience for many years. After that you have to factor in the constant pain the occupant will experience (because the pain lessens, but doesn’t go away) and the mental effects of being alive like that for so long. That’s why chapters have their dreadnoughts sleep as much as possible; so as to spare them the effects of existing like that and (ideally) keep them from losing their minds for as long as they can.

When you factor these things together (again, availability and strain), it’s pretty obvious why the Imperium, which is very weird and ritualistic about technology at the best of times, wouldn’t be keen on sticking just anyone inside such a vehicle.

Chaos, though? Much more willing to put naughty people inside the forever boxes. But anyway.

You could definitely put a Primarch inside a dreadnought. In fact, their superior physical and mental resilience would likely make them more reliable candidates for the process. You could even stick them in the fancier ones that slowly kill the occupants and they’d last longer!

Great question!