#The Great Devourer Expansion

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Warhammer 40k: Conquest - The Great Devourer Expansion - Noxious Fleshborer by Alexandr Elichev

[acid-ixx]

— related post !

socialite! (secret himbo/bimbo) reader who takes one look at bruce wayne in a gala and you decide you'll use your (dumbass) alluring charms on the man to spend a night with him and it ends up successful. you had the best bed-breaking sex in your life, never once questioning all the taut muscle underneath his polished thousand-dollar suit; now crumpled by how handsy you were taking off his clothes. he was great with aftercare, too, carrying you off to one of his luxury bathtubs to bathe you and leave even more marks on the expanse of your back whilst massaging your naked body (you didn't even think for a second at the romantic implications his actions had).

then you're at one of luthor's galas the next time, being interviewed by this cute man with eyeglasses, who calls himself clark kent, with the cutest country-boy accent, who looks too tall to act all lanky, but you're not one to judge. you take one look at his baggy suit, ignore the pen and paper in his hands and drag him off to one of the spare janitorial rooms to have, quite possibly, the most pleasurable quickie you've ever had spent inside a cramped closet, your sweat sliding off each other as your bodies move in a harmonious tandem. you give him a kiss on his collar right after the momentary sex, and giggle at the skittish blush dispersing on his face, as if he didn't just give you a reason to go home early due to the limp on your step.

after everything, they were buried in the back of your mind. they were great fucks, yes, you never had a moment of horny zenith not until you met them, yes; but your relationship (if you could even call it that) with both men were purely sexual and a one-time thing. you never really thought of them, you prioritize your social life and reputation above all else, not your coster of other rich people you've slept with.

but one day, you see both in the same room as you in another gala. you're oblivious to the sets of eyes hungrily taking you in, or how quickly they shove off other people just to move closer the moment their attention land on you. you take a look at the two men, biting your lips whilst your eyes devour the memory of their muscled pecs squished between your index and middle finger, and their thick thighs pistoning you back and forth, all hidden under all the clothes covering their body; and whisper not-so silently:

"i can take them both, not in a fight."

sadly, you'll never know that they're both at each other's throats after hearing your confession, ready to take each other in a fight if it meant having you in their arms once more. you'll never know just how bruce managed to throw in a microchip in your bag before you're escorted home by his limousine, or how clark watched your sleeping body in your apartment as superman just to make sure you slept well after he pounded you to oblivion in that closet.

all you'll know is that you're going to score them into fucking you once more either way. after all, if they're both the best choices when it comes to pinning you down and going crazy on your body, then you'll do anything to achieve that aching goal with the both of best worlds.

you're unaware that they'd do the same thing for you, though. but it's not out of the intentions to merely sleep with you, no. they're also planning to find a pathway into your heart while at it.

so... welp, guess that's just an added list of all the other suitors you had fighting over the chance of having another night with you.

a/n: gender-neutral reader. no bodily gender mentioned at all. this is purely sexual content with some plot. i blame my irl best friend for this (the single dialogue was me thirsting over the characters through our chats). yes, i post this after posting angst. am i shameless? also yes.

[tojisun]

john price x reader; minimal plot but it’s daddy issues and making out and just yk the sorts; mini religious analogy

it starts with a tap to the mouth—john's thumb rough against your glossy lips. he tips your head up just enough so that you can meet his eyes, crinkled in his deep smile and shining with the depths of his desire.

his adoration is palpable, rippling from his body in burning waves. it makes you feel small in the softest of ways; like you are being tucked into the pockets of his chest, wedged within the spaces of his ribs.

it makes you ache, your body racked with shivers.

no one has ever loved you this way. no one was ever this devoted—all-consuming and scorching in the way it strips the world into nothing, leaving it bare, all for you to use. to yield. to pick apart and abandon, as you see fit.

john looks at you like you're all that matters.

the tears spring up before you could stop them, prickling the backs of your eyes until they trickle down the slopes of your cheeks. you hear john's breath stutter, his hand twitching from where it's cupping your jaw, before it drags up to the side of your temple, thumb swiping at the patch of skin just underneath your eye.

"shh," he rumbles, a gentle coo. "y've got nothin' to be sad about, sweetheart."

you sniffle, ducking your gaze away, turning shy. it makes him chuckle, his voice passing through his teeth with such fondness, it fills you up with warmth; cascading down your spine, setting you ablaze alive.

“now, then,” john says, tapping the apple of your cheek. “won’t you come here an’ kiss me?”

his voice is thick and sticky with his own need, rumbling in that sort of tone that always makes your thighs squeeze shut. you nod, not knowing what else is there to say, and slide to his lap. he helps you throughout—rough palms perched on your hips as he pulls you close, adjusting ever so slightly, until your chest is snug against his and his breaths are hitting your chin.

john is so warm like this, or is it you? burning with the fever of your own desires that it buzzes into your skin and etching him with it?

whatever it may be, he presses close, dragging his palms from the meat of your hips to your back, mapping along the expanse of your skin like he’s truly feeling you; like he’s truly grounding himself through you.

you let out a shaky breath. john mirrors it.

and, finally, the two of you meet in between. the kiss is soft, careful, then it is cataclysmic. he devours your every gasps, his beard scratching against your chin as he kisses and nips and licks.

it is so debauched; sinful in the way you moan into his mouth and john swallows it whole; destructive in the way that his kisses chase the burn from your lips and force them through your synapses, leaving your nerves to moan a song until the pleasure burrows in your core—thrumming and building, your nub hardening slowly; teasingly; more.

more. moremoremore—

“john,” you gasp out, fingers tugging at his hair. “john, i want–!”

“shh,” he rumbles, pulling away just enough to press his forehead to yours. “i’ve got you, peanut. i’ve got you.”

his words douse you in the holy flames because you feel—

absolved.

you feel forgiven. you feel loved.

oh.

“please,” you hiccup, crying out again. and john pulls you in, even closer, and closer, until you no longer know where you end and where he begins.

please—

“i’ve got you,” john repeats like it is a prayer; a testimony. “i’m here f’r you.”

and you fall into him, so trusting. so faithful.

so devoted.

so small in his greatness.

[sarahisslytherin]

duty and honor.

cregan stark x tyrell!reader

summary: it has been decided. you are to wed the young lord stark. you know little of him or the north but will do your duty. this, however, does not release you from your worry of how the union will go or how you will settle into your role as lady of winterfell. luckily, cregan takes it upon himself to make you feel at home.

contains: fluff, people rooting for a bedding ceremony.

a/n: i am so in love with this man i need to be restrained.

word count: 2k

The carriage rocked on the road to Winterfell, your ocean blue gown ruffling as it did. You tried your best to ignore the wild beat of your heart in your chest, tried focusing instead on the growing pines that passed your window with increasing speed. Your mother sat at your side, a stoic presence that soothed you somehow. You took her hand in your own, and when she looked at you you didn’t have it in you to mask your utter fear. 

“You will be alright, child.” she sighed, bringing that same hand up to cup your cheek. “Lord Stark is a good man. I know you will be far from all that you know, but surely you will grow to love your new home as well as your betrothed.”

When you finally came to a halt outside its gates, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. You clutched your mother’s hand like a frightened babe when they drew open. The courtyard was full of expectant faces you knew you would eventually commit to memory. The townspeople were out and about, young rosy-cheeked girls squealing with delight as they spotted your carriage. Their soon-to-be Lady was within it, and you could only hope when the time came that you would not fall short of their expectations. They watched keenly as you stopped before them one final time, and you prepared to be devoured by hungry, prying eyes. You tugged on the fur lining of your cloak as your mother stepped down from the carriage. You quickly followed suit.

Indeed, you could feel their glares cutting clean through you. You had known enough ladies and lords to know they were searching for faults and virtues to remark upon as soon as you were out of earshot, but there were so many faces you could not focus on a single one. 

Instead your gaze swiftly fell upon the mountain of a man that was the young Lord Stark. His chestnut locks fell in such a manner that they delicately framed a rather rugged face, on which a scowl seemed to be permanently etched. But this was to be expected. It was common knowledge that smiles were rare amongst Northmen. Though winter was still months away, he was already cloaked head to toe in furs, an uncommonly large sword strapped across the broad expanse of his back. 

“Lady Y/N, welcome to Winterfell.” he rasped, his voice quite gravelly and masculine for so young a man. You offered him a small curtsy in return, but couldn’t quite muster up the agreeable smile your mother had asked you to perfect on the way here. You tried your best not to gawk as you took in the ancient castle, trailing behind Lord Stark as he strode through Winterfell’s stony halls. The biting cold of the north left your bones as you approached the hearth in the Great Hall. 

You listened as your mother exchanged pleasantries with members of Lord Stark’s court, though your eyes did not leave the dancing flames and glowing embers.

“You’re a long way from Highgarden.” he said as he came to stand beside you. His accent was harsh, the vowels flat and words clipped, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t find it somewhat pleasant to your ear.

You turned to regard him. Gods, he was beautiful. The fire cast his features in a golden hue, the color returning to his cheeks. He was a sight to behold, powerful and perhaps even fearsome, but in this moment so soft. You wondered what your future with him would look like. Would he take a liking to you? Would he hate you? When you eventually gave him children, would they take after their mother or father? Would it be a life worth living?

“Yes, my Lord.” you sighed, rubbing your hands up and down your arms. “A long way indeed.”

The muted ivory of your gown made you appear one with the snow of the Godswood. Your hair was unbound, save for the intricate braiding around the crown of your head. Only the moon’s and torches’ light showed you the way to the weirwood tree. Your father swiftly came to your side, looping your arm in his. He offered you a gentle caress along your icy cheek, a solemn look about his face as if watching a spring rose being sacrificed to the unforgiving cold of winter. Wordlessly, you began to walk.

Despite the North’s fame for brutal winters and even more brutal people, you couldn’t help but marvel at the quiet beauty of the Godswood. So still was it, that you could have sworn you felt its ancientness in your bones, could feel every ring of age around each tree stump. Snowflakes danced on their way down, coming to land upon strands of your hair. It was then that you saw him before the weirwood, his lips drawn into a thin line. He was covered in dark furs and a cloak, his hands clasped behind his straightened back. 

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” The words were spoken by a family ward. 

“Y/N of the House Tyrell.” your father replied. “She comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” 

You watched as Lord Stark approached, towering over you. You hoped you would grow accustomed to it, to him. You held your breath when he spoke. “Cregan of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” 

You dared to look up, to meet his gaze. You found nothing but gentleness in them. “Who gives her?” Your father spoke his name. And now the ward asked you the question. 

“Lady Y/N, will you take this man?”

You could feel the overbearing weight of watchful eyes, of held breaths and keen ears. But Cregan’s eyes hadn’t left yours, determined to hold your gaze. You could have sworn a flicker of joy shone in them when you gasped out. 

“I take this man.”

Cregan offered you a shy curl of his lips, then took your hands in his. You noted that they were far smaller in comparison to his weathered hands as he led you to the trunk of the weirwood tree. Its face provided you with some strange comfort. Perhaps the gods would heed your prayers. Perhaps they were watching over you as you both knelt before the trunk. Silence fell upon the Godswood as the wedding party prayed. No sooner had the moment passed that you and your now husband rose to your feet. Cregan’s large hands reached around you to gingerly remove your cloak, a golden Tyrell rose embroidered upon it by your mother. 

You shivered as the cold crept into your body, but were swiftly covered once again, this time in a Stark cloak, the wolf sigil stitched boldly enough for all to see. And just like that, it was done.

It was the first time you had seen him smile, truly smile, since you had arrived at Winterfell. From where you sat at his side on the dais, the entirety of the Great Hall stretched out before you. Jovial music filled the hall, and you watched the merry faces of Cregan’s men as they helped themselves to the wedding feast. Their chatter echoed on the stone walls, and for the first time since you had left Highgarden, you felt somewhat at home.

“Has Winterfell begun to grow on you, wife?” Cregan’s husky voice came from your left. When you turned to meet him he was wearing a boyish smirk. He was playing. You didn’t suspect the Wolf of the North had it in him.

“Well, it may be a while longer before that happens.” you sheepishly admitted, struggling to hold his intense gaze. “But I know I will come to love it.”

“Aye.” he said. “I know it will never be your true home, but I promise you I will do all in my power to make it the next best thing.” He placed his large hand atop your own, taking your palm and squeezing it gingerly. You were thankful for the gesture, and couldn’t ignore the flush of your cheeks that resulted from it.

“You’re timid.” he observed, only causing you further embarrassment. “It’s quite charming.”

“You may very well be the only person who finds it to be so. Even back home my soft temper has been known to irritate others. Most times people can barely hear me when I speak. I find it easier to keep to myself and observe.” you confessed. “I truly must grow a thicker skin if I am to survive amongst the wolves.”

“You won’t survive.” Cregan stated matter of factly. You whipped your head toward him with wide eyes at that, not prepared for what he would say next. “You will thrive.”

You felt your muscles loosen up once again, offering him an incredulous laugh.

“I am perfectly serious, my Lady.” he went on. “You will rule the North at my side.”

“I hardly think I am equipped to rule such an – unruly people, my Lord.” you tried to mask the nervous tremble of your hand as you brought your wine to your lips.

“Cregan.” he rasped. “Call me Cregan.” You nodded, eyes crinkling above a smile. He leaned in, as if he were about to tell you a most precious secret. “Sometimes all a beast truly needs is the touch of a gentle hand.” 

You backed away to meet his eyes. They held nothing but truth in them. Nothing but honor. But your moment was soon ended by the clamor of the wedding party. The men began to holler, whooping and howling in unison. “Time for the bedding!”

You had anticipated this, and you now braced yourself for the unpleasant experience of being hauled to a bed with Cregan. You had always known your first time would be like this, and though you loathed the idea, you could not alter tradition. It was a surprise to you when Cregan rose from his chair, planting his large hands on the dinner table before he spoke.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, but there will be no bedding ceremony tonight.” he bellowed out through the hall in a voice so commanding it was an effort not to shrink in his presence. “And I won’t hear any complaints about it. It’s too lovely an occasion to taint with a brawl.”

The men did their best to mask their disappointed groans as they returned to their dinner. You weren’t quite sure what had prompted Cregan to make such a decision. Did he not like you the way you had hoped? Perhaps he thought you fit to rule by him, to be a figurehead, but not someone he could ever desire in earnest. He must have read the emotions as they crossed your face, because he quickly took his seat beside you again. 

“Are you well, my Lady?” he asked. You merely nodded in response. He gently took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your gaze towards his. “When you wish it to happen it will be just the two of us, husband and wife. No prying eyes or ears.”

Warmth bloomed in your heart at the words. It was as if he had quieted the growing storm in your mind with only the touch of a hand. A gentle hand.

“You are a man of honor, Cregan.” you said resolutely.

He only smiled in return as he brought you in closer, finally pressing his lips to yours. The touch sent sparks down your spine. It was in that moment you knew that spark would soon fan into a flame a thousand northern winds could not snuff out.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @spxllcxstxr @lovemesomevesey @shemisseshome @themissgreen24-blog @siriusement @kingdomzeldaquest @gayfordabae @slayis4ever

[cor-lapis-candy]

Ayato the kinda freak to be into induced lactation, that man in my opinion would 100% be there and actively latched to a nipple day after day, nightly till the point that the other person started lactating.

If you can't tell this is about lactation then this is your warning, if you don't like the idea or the idea/act of lactation is a no for you, do not click the read more.

It was something you knew could happen, after all your young lord had something of an obsession with your chest, always mouthing and latching to one of your nipples the moment you had your shirt off, regardless of if it was sexual or not the moment he could his lips would be wrapped around your nipple stiff or not, and now...

Now here you are, awkwardly cupping your chest and watching as your ever-elegant partner lost that damned smiling mask of the commisoner from on his face and narrowed his eyes at you.

Between your fingers dripped the evidence of what his little obsession had made your body do, milky off white dripping from between the cracks of your fingers and leaking down your fingers, he had suckled his way into having you lactate, it was awkward and left your chest tight as pressure built till you were as you are now.

Leaking.

Sure Ayato hadn't wanted this initially, but now that he was looming over you pulling your hands away tongue tracing along the path your milk had taken, swirling his tongue around each finger, there was nothing about this he wouldn't love.

Now when he pressed his lips to your chest he could have more of you, taste something that was wholly his doing, something that was all him and all for him.

"My dear, is there something you want to tell me? Or maybe you'd prefer I drink it from you-" bending at his knees slightly, lets him press his cheek to your collarbones, staring up at you between flicking his gaze to where you were still leaking,"-cause I'm sure this isn't how I left you this morning..."

This morning... This morning was one that you would never forget, you had woken up to Ayato latched to your chest, as usual, one hand rolling and playing with the nipple he wasn't suckling the skin around where he was playing felt tight but you had thought nothing of it, brushing it away as he had been prone to suckle and tug at your chest in his sleep, having told you it was great for him to watch your sleepy face twist as he played with you.

Even as you had whined and tried to push him away, there was no way you would have been able to move him, the weight of his body pressed against you and the feeling of his cock hard in his yukata as he rutted against your thigh, grunting as he feels your weak attempt at pushing him away.

The morning had ended with your chest littered with hickies and imprints of his teeth, his cum splattered across the expanse of your torso as he panted and smiled down at you, sweeping away from you to head out with nothing more than a smile and a peck on the cheek. It was when you tried to bathe, hands gently trying to clean away the mess he had left that you had started leaking, the barest brush of your fingers had been the trigger.

Hours later and you had still been leaking, shirts dragging against your nipples awkwardly, wet patches blooming as you soaked through the material.

If Ayato had been unable to leave your chest alone before, there was no way he would even stop now that you were leaking, now that there was something new for him to take from you, something new to devour.

And by how he was hunched over against your body, letting heated puffs of air brush against your skin as a warning before he was latching just as he had this morning, there was no getting to the bedroom before he would take this oh so much further than just suckling.

[inocyde]

"The Husk" terminal of Jormara 25x35

In the north of Jormerun... in fact in the north at all, at the antipodes of all civilization, at the end of the world, you'll find the Jormara ice pack. A wild, inhospitable desert of ice. An expanse of shifting, all-consuming, ever-changing pack ice. Instead of fine sand dunes, you'll find titanic icebergs frozen in time or floating in deathly calm along the shores of this sea of ice.

In this labyrinth of frozen teeth and fangs, you'll sometimes catch a glimpse of great black columns silhouetted against the blizzard. These gigantic peaks of basalt rock are Jormara's only fixed points, the summits of lost mountains. Dating back to a time when civilizations and men still slept the benevolent sleep that preceded their birth. The banished gods is the name given by the few inhabitants of this white hell to the mountains that rip through the depths of this frozen ocean.

If your eyes see one of these black towers emerge, after weeks of travel in the blind blizzard, you'll be able to contemplate the flickering, fragile glow of hundreds of torches on all sides of the peak, staking out the body and entrails of the rock. If you get any closer, you'll be able to hear the song of these gods, a symphony of clatters and sharp blows. The pickaxes of dozens of miners echoing in the wind.

That's why there's life here, barely surviving, eating the snow and chasing all forms of heat so as not to die out. The treasure of the dead gods, the heritage of an entire people, glory and wealth for deserters and adventurers. Mithril.

Veins of mithril almost outcropping! Mines so abundant and rich that sometimes you only have to stoop to pick it up. This is the honey that attracts bees of all races and all countries to this great chase: the mithril hunt of the Jormara ice floe.

That's where you set off, hoping with all your soul not to end up like all those pioneers, frozen for eternity on their knees in the middle of nothing, frozen with their hope and their life's fortune packed in their bag.

After two months by boat, you arrive at the furthest point from inhabited land. Zigzagging between icebergs that have become mountains, you can't go any further. You're at the gates of Jormara, one of the departure camps for the Great Devourer.

Welcome to the Husk, home to 3 and a half people and a few sled dogs.

On the menu for the year: fish in fish fat, all cooked in melted ice.

It's best to book your bed in advance if you don't want to brave the polar night and enrich the next day's ordinary.

Make the most of the fire fed by the remains of ships that weren't lucky enough to arrive, like yours, in one piece.

As you watch your nave sail away into the dawn, you'll realize that you are now a resident of Jormara. Your wealth, perhaps, your prison, surely, and your grave, no doubt.

-Sileas Kel Pionner of Jormara

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[kajilychnis]

Skrael and Mythology and Legends inspirations

Yeesss I did it for Bellroc, I'm going to do it for Skrael now! Well... we all know who Skrael is, he is a primordial demigod of cold, snow and icy winds and storms. He is sadistic and ruthless, he is a great manipulator, cunning and observant and strangely patient. He has the ideal qualities of a final antagonist, but in the series he comes across more as Bellroc's right-hand than anything else. There are several mythologies that may have influenced the creation of the character.

Of course, I'm going to talk about his Wendigo influence first because it's the most obvious and observed one. There are several similarities to the Wendigos and Skrael, firstly his black cloak which appears to be torn at the end of his cloak and with a long horned animal skull worn on his hooded head. The typical Wendigo appearance we all know, except Skrael has more of a humanoid appearance, the skull could be a wendigo he killed (potentially). But the animalized appearance of the wendigo is a creation of Algernod Blackwood in the 70s (thanks Until Dawn for this information). The true legend of the wendigos comes from the legends of the Anishinàbemiwin tribe, in these legends they were much more humanoid, skeletal with grey skin, bald, sharp teeth, terrifying and bloodthirsty/anthropophagous creatures. Which could explain Skrael's appearance under his cape and without his hood and his animal skull. However this is only physical, what could approach Skrael that is outside of physical appearance would be the fact that wendigos are associated with the sins of gluttony, greed or excess of any kind. They are never satisfied after killing a person to devour them, and they are constantly looking for new victims. You see where I'm going with this? Skrael is also power hungry, he wants more and more, he wants the world all to himself. He is also very sadistic and he likes to torment and torture mortals especially humans. So the wendigos fits him well. Aside from the fact that he seems to be a more civilized version of what a wendigo is… probably because Skrael is not just inspired by the legend of the wendigos...

This is where we come to the second part, the legend of Jack Frost. Another one that seems obvious, but I decided to start with the most obvious to the least obvious. Jack Frost is another legend that may recall Skrael, although his interpretation varies greatly between cultures and eras. In European and Anglo-Saxon legends, Jack Frost embodies the spirit of winter and frost, a mischievous being, capable of transforming landscapes into icy expanses and drawing frost patterns on windows. However, Jack Frost is not as jovial as some modern versions portray him, he is often a mysterious character, a capricious and sometimes cruel spirit, indifferent to the effects of his frost on human beings. Jack Frost is often depicted as a small elf, fast, mischievous yet innocent with a childlike character. He can also become dangerous and freeze people on the spot, if they anger him. His physique can have winter aspects: white hair, his eyes of the color blue, ice on his clothes. The two characters are very similar, much more in personality than physically. Physically we find the gel on the clothes, the blue icy eyes, the young appearance (most of the time Jack Frost is young in representations), the pale blue skin (yes Jack Frost has pale skin that looks almost blue) and the albino side that Skrael has but only on his eyelashes which are white. In terms of personality, they both are mischievous, they don't care how others might feel and they think ice/snow is better than anything. In folk tales, Jack Frost is a spirit who acts according to his own desires, without respect for humans. This indifference to the suffering of others is also found in Skrael, who sees cold as a means of purifying the world.

For the third part, I placed it here randomly, but I wanted to talk about Ymir even though there is very little to say. As we all know, Ymir is a primordial frost giant from Norse mythology. Ymir is described as one of the first beings in the universe, born from the meeting of the fire of Muspellheim and the ice of Niflheim, and he is the ancestor of all frost giants. This ancient and primordial nature is reflected in Skrael, a guardian who embodies an ancient and immutable force of winter, a power that seems to have been there since the beginning of the world. Norse mythology tells us that the gods killed Ymir and used his body to create the world: his flesh became the earth, his blood the oceans, his bones the mountains, and his skull the sky. I see this as some sort of proof that Skrael's titan is his true form and his first form, his separation from his original body makes him less strong. The giant that is Ymir must have been a potential inspiration for Skrael's titan, the fact that he is a primordial giant like Skrael is a primordial demigod titan. And the fact that they were both separated from their bodies as well, shows some resemblance between them.

Finally, I didn't think to add it in my "analysis" but… I will finally talk about Khione. Why Khione and not Boreas, the god of the north wind? Because apart from their title, their cruelty and their power I found nothing else to say about this charlatan who definitely does not know consent. To make the rest of my analysis more meaningful, I would like to warn you that I am talking about Khion from Rick Riordan's books. Like Skrael, Khione is a snow goddess, she masters snow, cold and ice. She is able to create storms, freeze objects and manipulate temperature, and she also likes to turn people into ice statues… like Skrael. Both share this feeling of indifference to human and other creatures, they are devoid of empathy, they are implacable deities, detached from human emotions and indifferent to the suffering or destruction they inflict. This lack of pity or empathy reinforces their merciless nature, each imposing cold without a soul. In Riordan's works, Khione aspires to power and the reign of winter. She is ambitious, seeking to dominate or make winter a supreme force. In a similar way, Skrael embodies this vision of eternal winter. Both want the cold to reign supreme and do not want a natural cycle where spring would return, but rather a world frozen forever under their icy control. Khione and Skrael are both beings of solitude. Khione, like a goddess of the icy heights, is distant from the world of humans and rarely interacts with them, preferring her solitude. Skrael, is a spirit isolated from any attachment and emotional warmth, he shares the same thoughts as Khione, he does not want to interact and mingle with other creatures and even less humans. There is also the connection between Khione and Gaia in Rick Riordan's universe and between Skrael and Nari which can present interesting parallels. In Heroes of Olympus, Khione allies with Gaia, the Earth Goddess, for her own ambitions of power and to bring about eternal winter. Khione sees Gaia as a primordial force that can help her impose her rule. Similarly, Skrael allies with Nari to wipe humanity from Earth and bring about eternal winter (although this is not explicitly stated in the series). Khione, though independent and ambitious, knows that Gaia is a greater power than she is, a primordial entity that surpasses other natural forces. She acts to serve Gaia's interests, even if she hopes to profit from them. Skrael and Nari are equals compared to them, but what does not change is that Skrael takes advantage of Nari, in order to achieve his goal.

The name of "Skrael" comes from Norse culture. The Vikings used the term "Skræling" to refer to the indigenous peoples they encountered in North America, including the Inuit and other indigenous groups of Greenland and "Newfoundland". In Old Norse, Skræling means "weak" or "barbarian" or "foreigner", with a connotation of "skin" or "bark", which could indicate a pejorative view. The term was often used to mark the perceived difference between the Vikings and the peoples they encountered. It is also possible that in "Skrael" there are cold or icy sounds. For example, "sk-" at the beginning of the name (like "skeleton" and "skull") may have a visual sound associated with something hard, bony, or cold.

Finally, to conclude, Skrael is an interesting antagonist even if we don't know much about him. He is ruthless, reckless, observant, sadistic and patient, the perfect antagonist inspired by legends and myths.

[niqhtlord01]

The Great Git Hunt Part 1: The Death of a Legend

During the turning of the 42nd millennia the universe was to see many upheavals of a galactic nature.

 The 13th Black Crusade finally shattered Cadia and opened the great rift, sundering the universe in two and unleashing innumerable demonic incursions into real space. Tyranid Hive Fleets began appearing more frequently along the entire eastern fringe devouring innumerable worlds and forcing the Imperium to fight tooth and nail for every world to slow the tide of chitin.The Tau launched the Fifth Sphere Expansion while the Imperium’s attention elsewhere and sought to steal several dozen worlds from Imperial control and integrate their populations in the name of the greater good.

Yet the most perplexing, if not confounding, event was to pit two of the greatest warhosts against each other all over the death of one elderly man.

That man was Commissar Sebastian Yarrick.

Dying at the age of roughly 153, the energetic Commissar Yarrick made a name for himself by leading the Imperial resistance against Ork Warlord Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka on the world of Armageddon. Taking for himself the severed arm of an ork warchief he slew in combat to replace the arm he lost, Yarrick would become a nay mythical figure amongst Ork culture and the primary rival of Ghazghkull himself. It was said that the warboss only ever cursed Yarrick; an honor amongst orks for sure. Their rivalry would span nearly a century as the two would fight again during the third war for Armageddon and then far afterwards as Yarrick chased the warboss half way across the universe seeking to end the green threat once and for all.

Many would be safe to assume that with a rivalry so deep between two titans of their peoples that their stories would end with a climatic clash of arms where one would lay dead at the others feet. Yet fate sought to intervene in the cruelest of manners.

While pursuing his eternal foe with a fleet of Black Templar space marines, Imperial Guard, and several warships of the Imperial Navy; Commissar Yarrick was set upon by the newly reformed World Eaters chaos space marines legion led by their demonic primarch Angron.

With the opening of the great rift Angron emerged from the Eye of Terror at the head of the largest force of Khorne worshipers the universe had seen since the Horus Heresy. Angron was not content to follow Abaddon and his mongrels, so set out on his own to leave a path of devastation and slaughter spanning several sectors. Each world his followers set foot upon they would leave in fire with nothing but the hollow skulls of its former inhabitants piled in mile high mounds to watch over them. It was in fact the most recent slaughter on the planet Mori that reverberated throughout the warp so strongly it incapacitated the navigators of Yarrick’s fleet and pulled them out of the warp.

Angron was surprised at the sudden appearance of an Imperial war fleet, but welcomed the new challengers with great relish. The Khorne warships descended upon the imperial fleet like carrion fiends and began pulling it apart piece by piece. The navy fought back with great ferocity but the troop transports were left to fend for themselves as hordes of boarding craft were launched at them, each packed with world eater space marines churning for the coming bloodbath.

With their escape routes blocked and the transport ships in danger, Yarrick ordered the ground forces to land on Mori. It was only on the surface of the planet could the imperial force bring to bear their full might. The landing was hounded the entire way by the ever pressing chaos war fleet with many ships never making the journey, but by the grace of the emperor several made it to the surface and disembarked their forces.

Never one to back down from a massacre, Angron landed on the planet once more and led his legion against the now dug-in imperial forces. Under the leadership of Yarrick, the guard and space marine forces held the unending horde back for seven days and seven nights. Yet by the dawn of the 8th day only Yarrick and a handful of guardsman remained. Angron himself took to the field for the final slaughter and slew the guardsman with ease until only Yarrick stood against him.

Power claw met demonic axe as the elderly commissar matched blow for blow. So assured of his victory, the inability to shatter the crude ork weapon infuriated Angron and his rage furthered him to unleash a flurry of blows. One snuck past Yarrick’s guard and violently severed the commissar’s right arm at the shoulder.

As the arm and power claw fell to the ground Yarrick staggered backwards. His remaining hand tightened around his bolt pistol as blood began flowing from the wound. He looked up and saw the demon primarch looking down at him; mangled and jagged teeth grinning as Angron looked down at him. No doubt the monster expected him to beg for his life, but Yarrick would not.

Spitting out a glob of blood at the traitor, Yarrick brought up his bolt pistol and roared “FOR THE EMPEROR!” one final time and pulled the trigger. A single bolt left the weapon before Angron swung his axe and decapitated the commissar. The bolt struck home against one of the skulls hanging from the primarch’s neck and shattered it; a prized treasure as it had belonged to one of his close comrades back when the primarch had been mortal and a slave in the fighting pits of his homeworld. The primarch took up the severed head of Yarrick and put it in its place around his neck; a sign of honor for a great warrior while the rest of the skulls of the dead imperials were collected and offered to Khorne.

News of this massacre did not reach the wider galaxy for several months until a passing merchant ship picked up the distress signals of the imperial navy that still echoed in the warp. They soon found the lifeless husks of imperial ships floating above the planet of Mori and when they descended to the surface found the remains of the imperial’s last stand as well as a lone ork power claw still stained with demonic blood.

When the merchant ship reported their findings to nearby Imperial authorities an investigation force was dispatched by inquisitorial agents which further discovered the truth of the situation and the death of Yarrick.

Initially, there was hesitance with releasing the information regarding Yarrick. In a time of such chaos, the death of such a notable figure if reported to the wider imperium could trigger further outbreaks of panic. In a rare show of defiance however, the Astra Militarum insisted that it be made public and a large scale military funeral be held and broadcasted imperium wide to turn Yarrick into a martyr and potentially Imperial Saint stating that he chose to die fighting the forces of chaos then be cowed into submission.

Had the Astra Militarum made such demands a few generations earlier the Inquisition would have purged their ranks for such brazen defiance; but since the great rift’s opening they found their position had weakened and they needed the legions of Imperial Guard standing with them than against them. So, the Inquisition relented and the military funeral was held on Yarrick’s homeworld. Despite the great dangers of warp travel, several high lords of Terra made the journey to pay their respects as well as countless Imperial Guard regiments, space marine contingents, mechanicus forces, and even a rare Imperial Class Titan joined the funeral procession.

It was during this period of mourning as news of Yarrick’s death was spread throughout the imperium that it also trickled into the hands of the Imperium’s enemies as well.

Ork freebooters hijacking Imperial ships learned of the news while having fun with their human prisoners. There wasn’t an ork alive that didn’t know of the legend of “Old Bale Eye” and the impressive ork body count he had amassed over the century of fighting. News of his death spread even faster amongst orks than it had with imperials until finally words reached the green prophet himself, Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka.

At first, Ghazghkull refused to believe that anyone but him could have done in his oldest rival. He had fought Yarrick too long and knew that the wily hummie wouldn’t go down so easily. But when a squad of his handpicked Kommandos came back from Mori and presented him with Yarrick’s severed power claw, the green prophet flew into a rage.

The roar let out was so powerful that it reverberated in the warp, silencing nearby warp storms and sending countless ships of all affiliations from the astral tides of the warp back into real space. Not since the war of the beast was an ork roar heard so strongly in the warp from so far away that even the navigators on holy terra itself could hear the anger of Ghazghkull.

From that moment on the greatest warboss of orks the universe had ever seen had a new mission. He would take every ship in his fleet, every gargant and war machine his boy’z made, and every ork boi in his waaagh and he would not stop until he had the head of the one who done in Old Bale Eye and mounted it to the front of his flagship.

The Great Git Hunt, had begun.  

[sleepyowlwrites]

it's that time of year. I must give you spooky songs.

I'm not just throwing my playlists at you, either. you can find all 200+ of my playlists on my spotify. spooky is a blanket term, okay. the vibes are expansive but there's something...there.

spooky but in the background, mostly

the Ghost songs by Louie Zong

Ancient Souls - The Daniel Pemberton TV Orchestra

Edge of Night - Cullen Vance

The Mist - Max LL

The Inevitable Haunted House - Boqeh

Mass (Re-Imagined) - Phoria

Dispossession - SQUARE ENIX MUSIC

Ceaseless Watcher - harvo

Waltz of the Bone King - Peter Gaundry

Thryy Wyrd Tynns - Alec Holowka

Dance Off - Heloise Tunstall-Behrens & Auclair

Dragon Lullaby - Dave Volpe

The Gambit of Night - Neil DeGraide, Dirt Poor Robbins

Sleep - The Last Bison

Mausoleum - Rafferty

White Specter - Adrian Von Ziegler

spooky but there's something here with you, a creature?

Fangs - Little Red Lung

Rusalka, Rusalka / Wild Rushes - The Decemberists

That Unwanted Animal - The Amazing Devil

Into the Woods - PHILDEL

Into the Unknown - Evetty

The Nowhere King - The Centaurworld Cast

Aha! - Imogen Heap

The Glow - The Last Bison

Nature Girl - Cryoshell

Running with the Wolves - AURORA

Howling Moon - Coleman Hall

The Pines - Roses & Revolutions

Caterpillars (Of the Commonwealth) - Will Connolly

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Errasuriz - Kiltro

Bloodsuckers - Johnny Hollow

We Have It All - Pim Stones

spooky but maybe it's you

Devourer - Aideoneus

When I Was Done Dying - Dan Deacon

The Yawning Grave - Lord Huron

So Tonight That I Might See - Mazzy Star

The Mortal Boy King - The Paper Kites

Stone Wall, Stone Fence - Gregory and the Hawk

Ghosts - James Vincent McMorrow

Oceanica - San Fermin

Going - Tow'rs

Sticks and Stones - The Pierces

Strange - Runah

All Things Devour - aseaes

Raise the Dead - RAIGN

Sunlit Grave - Saint Mesa

Remain Nameless - Florence + the Machine

spooky but we're having a good time, I think

Let's B Goblins! - Ratwyfe

Death, Thrice Drawn - The Scary Jokes

Great Vacation - Dirt Poor Robbins

Face the Night - Tennyson

Skeleton Song - Kate Nash

Bones - anne october

The Magic - Lola Blanc

All Is Well (Goodbye, Goodbye) - Radical Face

the jester - ratz

spooky but in pastels

In The Beginning - Fahrenhaidt

Kiss the Grass - The Paper Kites

Butterfly Water - Pastelle

I Was Feeling Down, I Found a Nice Witch and We're Friends - In Love With a Ghost

The Ancestor - Darlingside

Entangled Life - Merlin Sheldrake, Cosmo Sheldrake

Night Owls - Mree

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Warhammer 40k: Conquest - The Great Devourer Expansion - Toxic Spore Sac by Alexandr Elichev

[lilac-hecox]

Amanda/Angela - amangela - Onlyfans!Amanda / Angela - Party

For @amessformiles

--

It’s at a party, a friend of a friend of a friend, where Angela meets Amanda.

Right away, Amanda is hard to miss. She is bright, vibrant, drop dead gorgeous and when she laughs, she livens up the entire room. How could Angela not notice her? Amanda’s got this low-cut dress on, accentuating her curves, the weight of her breasts, her tits all but spilling out of the dress.

Angela is hooked right then and there.

So, of course, she knocks back a few shots for courage and over the course of half an hour, makes her way over to Amanda, inching across the expanse of the party and people she only sort of knows. Finally, she’s in the outer edge of Amanda’s circle, the crowd around her utterly as captivated as Angela feels. Amanda has them wrapped around her finger, and judging by the smirk on her face, she absolutely knows this.

Angela coughs weakly and Amanda looks over her shoulder, those dark eyes meeting Angela’s before they give her a once over. Angela holds her ground, tries not to run away from this tall statue of a woman.

“Hi,” Angela says, trying to muster all her confidence, “I’m Angela.” She offers her hand.

Amanda takes it in her own, squeezing gently, “I’m Amanda.”

Through the next hour Angela learns a lot of things about Amanda.

She learns that Amanda is from the Boston area. She learns that Amanda is an aspiring comedian. She leans that Amanda mainly earns her living on Onlyfans. She learns what a great fucking kisser Amanda is.

Angela learns that last one by the wall Amanda has her pinned to a wall in a secluded hallway in the house where the party is being held. Amanda’s weight presses Angela to the wall, her mouth devouring Angela’s. The shorter girl is dizzy with pleasure, with the heat that thrums through her entire body. They kiss until Angela’s lips are red, swollen, and slick.

Once they break apart Amanda smirks, teases her fingers up under the hem of Angela’s dress shirt.

“Care for a demonstration?” Amanda asks, using the fingers on her other hand to wipe delicately at the edges of Angela’s mouth where Amanda’s transferred some lipstick.

Angela licks her lips, tasting Amanda everywhere, and she nods.

Amanda glances around before she slides her hand into the waistband of Angela’s skirt, then her panties, and then two of Amanda’s fingers slip inside of Angela.

Angela groans, letting her head fall back against the wall with a thunk. The exposed skin of her neck is open for Amanda’s taking, and she does, sucking a soft mark onto the pale skin, grazing the flesh with her teeth, while her long fingers curl inside of Angela’s wet slit.

“Fuck,” Angela moans softly.

Amanda hums in response.

All of this is wild, insane, more spontaneous than Angela can remember being in month. She just met Amanda and yet here Amanda is, holding her against this wall in an unfamiliar home, fingering her in the hidden hallway.

It’s dirty, but fuck, it feels good. Amanda is damn good at this and Angela thinks she probably really needs to check out Amanda’s Onlyfans because already, even with this taste, she’s hooked, addicted, like a drug addict ready for their next hit before the high has even left them.

Amanda finds that spot in Angela, and she has to bite at her own hand to keep quiet as she shivers against the wall, her hips bucking, her body practically riding Amanda’s fingers as she nears the edge, her orgasm just a hint away from her.

“Wanna see you come on my fingers,” Amanda whispers, her voice so low and sultry.

How could Angela say no to that?

She whines high in her throat and comes, eyes rolling back in her head, shuddering apart on Amanda’s fingers as she works her through her orgasm.

Amanda doesn’t stop until Angela is near sobbing. Then she finally pulls back, wiping her slick fingers on her dress. Angela slumps against the wall, trying to catch her breath, trying to remember how to breathe and act like a normal person again.

When she recovers, she looks at Amanda, licks her lips.

“Can I…do you want me to return the favor?” Angela asks nervously.

Amanda looks at her with arousal in her eyes, tilting her chin up and smirking.

“Absolutely. Come back to my place? I have lots of fun stuff I think you’d like, and we can really get to know one another.”

Angela is old enough to know not to go home with someone she just met, but if this is a trap, if Amanda is something to fear, then Angela is walking willing into the wolf’s jaws.

“Let me get my coat,” Angela says.

Amanda nods, “Lead the way.”

[navsink]

to be gentle is a choice. | sukuna x sorcerer reader !

tw: typical sukuna things, arguments, violence, syringes, hospital setting, referenced/mentions of cannibalism (sukuna), tba.

If there was a god, I bet it would be smugly smirking down on me as if it was any better than I am.

To preface, today I went away into domain expansion with Uraume. bad fucking idea.

Uraume couldn't stop nagging about how I'm rotting from the inside with all this mushy love stuff. I almost feel like one of your kind, my Emperess, is this what you have to go through everyday? I hate the feeling yet enjoy it to an extent, it doesn't change my mind to what humans are. They're maggots who cling to every bit of nourshment and flesh trying to preserve their kind. As if I couldn't just snap my fingers and have them all pile up.

If that didn't make me barf, there's even more to discuss on, but I digress. I don't know what Uraume was trying to do, but of course I wasn't going to let that menial woman slide with that snarky mouth of hers. With a quick snap, I crossed my legs from the comfort of my bone adorned throne and twisted my fingers.

'Snap'

In a quick fraction of a second, she twitched and writhed under the influence of my cursed energy. The once sarcastic mouth turning paler by the second, and then another, and another... I missed just using my powers for fruitful things like this one. She whined and whined, the black robe and sandals dangled in the air, flailing around in a desperate attempt to fall down. The chuckle and contemptible mocks I hurled at her only proved to satisfy me more than this measly body I'm currently residing in. I let go of my fingers and leaned against the arm rest of my throne, thinking back on that day.

--flashback--

Kenjaku and Uraume were bickering on what 'D-day' was supposed to go all the while I devoured upon some delicious russian on a skewer. The domain expansion Uraume held for us presented the Shirahama coast to ourselves. She had pressed for a meeting, apparently to discuss on finally incarnating my body somewhere reliable.

"I've found a vessel for you, Master." Uraume announced, putting her hands together under her long sleeves.

"You have?" I've been uninterested in vessels lately, it's been nothing but substandard bodies that cannot stand a few punches and broken soul pacts.

"This one seems like it will last you for more than a year if you're tame with its body." I scoffed to her flat tone, though her serious countenance let on a hint of hope and excitement.

"It's not worth it then, what use can a body be to me if I can't use it how I want to?"

"I understand Master, but, I would like to remind you that we are trying to ambush the sorcerers. So discretion and prudence are a must for this."

"You think I don't know that? Continue. About this body."

"I've targeted a young male, around 25 years old, he's a recently graduated researcher at the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech and has great credibility with other curse users. We can gather a lot of intel--"

"Skip the trivial details Uraume, get to the point." I leaned back on the beach chair and waved off to her, disregarding any useless information.

"He has borrowed four of your fingers from the Tech's library, promising to study the seals and whatnot. He seems to be a compatible fit for our purposes. Coming from a line of monks and priestesses, he may endure around ten fingers at most."

"Ten huh?... Will he be able to take on more as time progresses?" My brow cocked to the side, and as I rubbed my chin, I turned to her.

"I think that will be for you to decide, Master. His lineage is pure and every information on him is promising, one might be even able to deduce that he has a slight tinge of cursed blood."

I can still recall the shit eating grin that was plastered onto my face, I had finally reached the jackpot out of many maggot looking duds. Of course, with inferior species nearby, it could only last but a second of my apparition in the domain.

"Elated news, partner! Congrats, now we're one of the same." Kenjaku exulted.

I dimmed out his words from my conscience and tuned out to my own, a simple wave of acknowledgment to shut him up being sent.

"Bring it on."

"Is it settled then? Has he ingested any fingers?"

"I'm afraid not, but if at your command, I'll make sure he ingests one tonight."

--present

Those were the words I uttered to Uraume the day I got into this body, the one that got me into your arms at the buzz of a simple 'Hello!'.

Y/n, you have a way with words don't you?

On the topic of Uraume, I'm one to lie, but when I say that servant makes a mean meal, it's because she does. My once peaceful lunch just had to be interrupted by those two's bitching when a shard of icecicle had to shoot right next to the stack of bones I was leaving behind. God, the glare I shot them, true definition of if looks could kill. My brows furrowed as my fingers twisted and slammed down to the ground. The two froze in place, a drop of cold sweat dripping down their heads. I glared at them and without more trouble, my fingers relaxed, falling to my side.

"Permission to speak lord." Uraume muttered

"Granted"

"I wanted to survey how the body is adjusting to your grand presence, have you encountered any problems yet?"

"Other than the humans calling me Ryosuke? I want to have them all beheaded."

"That would prove unwise lord." Her head bowed and her busy hands proved tired as I kept talking.

"Tell me something I do not know." I sighed and dropped my arms to the side.

"I am sorry to not be of help, could I take samples and examine your body sir?" Her hands held a syringe and a vial, and in her arms dangled a measuring tape which I quickly examined before grunting an answer.

"Granted."

Snap

I exited out of the domain, finding myself in a laboratory Uraume had secured for me. The white walls were coated with ancient scriptures and fun decorations. A few bones here and there just to my liking, as I kept admiring the room, Uraume examined my new body's blood with the same syring and vial.

"What are you looking for inside my blood really?"

"Signs of stress, rejection and of course any foreign cursed techniques, this is a jujutsu researcher after all, it would be surprising htere is no kind of trick here."

"Right you are U-" I bit my mouth as the syringe touched my vein, a feeling so clear that had even me straightening my back in a kind of fear.

"Sorry, I should have warned, that's leaving a bruise sometime in the day."

I shot her a bloodshot (no pun intended) look as she clinks the vial with her long nails, the clicking sound makking my face twitch.

"The results will be in a week, so busy yourself acting normal to your new peers and do not exert the body in any way." Uruame's monotone half commanded as she inserted the vial into a centrifuge.

I rubbed the inside of my arm tenderly as I walked out of the room, with little effort, my technique transported me back to Ryosuke's home.

I should start asimilating myself more with that name if I want to keep the body safe for now...

The air today was dense, I could tell a storm was about to cross paths with me as I crossed the street. The pungent city air was an offense to my ancient nose, how can anyone live in this place?

I slam the door open, the floor behind me dripping wet from the storm, the walk from home to the tech was pretty long. No wonder this Ryosuke's guy house is so broke, still as soon as I came in your head shot towards me.

"Good afternoon Ryo!" a chirp accompanied by your feathery voice. How is it that you maintain that in a place like this?

"Afternoon." I mumbled back as i shook off whatever droplets that still clinged to me. A slight palpitating vein on my forhead reminded me of my role today, to be human.

"How was your day? Any luck out there with information?" your tone soothed his annoyance as he relaxed his shoulders and looked at you directly.

"Tired...." I took a minute for a brief pause before trying to understand what you meant. "On what?" On instinct, his brow jumped up as he spoke.

"We all are, whenever students are on break, principal gives the heaviest loads of work doesn't he?" you took a candy from a little tray and unwrapped it with skill, and in a swift move, into your mouth it went. "On finding what the bindings of the fingers meant" you mumbled with your mouth full.

I shot a small nod of acknowledgment as I answer "Not really, there is no easy way to translate those to modern language. I feel like lighting it all on fire now that I think about it." I huffed in fake annoyance as I walked towards you, a slight pull against your mouth revealed a chuckle.

That chuckle, you let out a chuckle as soon as I spoke that, god I could never forget my exact words today, you just happened to smile. What is it about me that is so amusing to you? I don't know what I am supposed to say, so I thought that being a normal human I could just take the chance.

"Positive as ever Ryo, on the good side-" You hinted, that is before I interrupted. What good side is she even talking about?

"There is no good side." I interrupted as I stitch my brows together holding a staring contest with her.

"Shut up, let me speak" You chuckled with an eye roll. "We're going out for drinks, celebrating surviving your first few weeks here, basically that you're alive and no curse has tried to kill you yet!"

It seemed almost moronic, to asume that I would let myself be defeated by some mere stupid curse. I rubbed my temples carefuly before decidding on what to answer. As you typed away on the computer, as the smoking doctor's secretary, I noticed the slight rash on your hand.

"Hasn't the school doctor checked that rash?"

"Don't concern yourself over this, instead tell me so I can call it off with the staff here. They all think you're very promising and kind researcher, all the others have been asses really." You blew away a stray hair as you kept on typing, barely looking at me anymore. That stupid lingering smile of yours. God can someone be as hard to read as you? What are you even thinking?

"Shoko has been pretty busy with the resurgence of a phenomenon where people start growing plants out of their bodies, pretty weird if you ask me." You added as the swift little fingers kept on moving from one key to the other.

Without warning my sight turned hazy and soon everything spun. I held my temples and tried facing you as best as I could.

"I zoned out, sorry, I can't believe the plant thing though-" i sighed and looked down, feeling like my whole body was shutting down. "I... Does Shoko have any pills for migraines?" Soon my equilibrium was turning like gelatin, feeling the whole rigidness of my body turn water in a matter of seconds.

"Ryosuke?" you called out but soon enough I felt my body crash down, I had never experienced this before.

--------

"25-year-old male, Ryosuke Ijichi—septicemia! He’s fainted in the ambulance. He’s febrile, tachypneic, and unresponsive!"

That's all I heard as I felt myslef being hauled from room to room, a bunch of Jujutsu medics swarming over me like some kind of anomaly. My eyes were stitched shut and movement was impossible.

"Temp’s at 39.7°C, respiratory rate 28 per minute—he’s in respiratory distress."

I tried moving and even swinging at one of the doctors as every possible hand was on me. My arm was burning and I could feel some kind of bump on the spot where Uraume had taken blood from.

"Get a liter of saline in—fast. We need to draw blood cultures, CBC, and get a lactate level ASAP. Start him on vancomycin and meropenem for broad-spectrum coverage."

All these doctors were talking over me, and I swear I could not comprehend for the thousand years of my life a single thing. An oxygen mask was placed over my mouth and soon enough I could feel myself doze off again.

"Heart rate 140, blood pressure’s tanking—85 over 50! He’s hypotensive and febrile!"

As I was dragged to a final room, I could feel two strong presences between me. A soft warm hand placed against my forehead and a strong hand that covered my throat.

"This is not your body is it?"

2k words.

~~~~~ A/N

Yoohoo! Heya there, I hope you enjoyed it after a long time of not hearing from this story. Sorry about it. Really. Plus thank chat gpt and my friend for the awesome medical terms and dialogue because I have close to 0 idea to what CBC or febrile is. Sorry that this wasn't really centered around romance, I tried setting the setting as best as I could I swear the next chapter is about fluff and comfort!!

As a preview and motivation to like yn is much better introduced in the next page and we get tension!

[titusandronicusonice]

What I read in 2024

Non-Fiction

History and Class Consciousness (1923) by Georg Lukács – okay, I didn't finish this book. BUT, I'm still mentioning it because the 80-ish pages I did read were so terribly influential on me that I couldn't not include it. Considered one of the foundational texts of 'Western Marxism', the first three essays (especially the one on 'Class Consciousness') show just how dynamic historical materialism can be.

'Theses on the Philosophy of History' (1940), and 'The Author as Producer' (1934) by Walter Benjamin – I read in a John Berger piece that Benjamin wanted to compose a book made up entirely of quotations. I think about that a lot.

Marxism and Form (1971) by Fredric Jameson – Jameson's account of the aesthetic theories of Adorno, Benjamin, Marcuse, Bloch, Lukács, and Sartre, plus an extended account of what dialectical criticism is and can be. (That last chapter is an expansion of his excellent 'Metacommentary' essay which you should read right now.)

Marxist Modernism (2024) by Gillian Rose – A transcript of Rose's 1979 lectures on Frankfurt School critical theory from Lukács to Adorno by way of Benjamin, Bloch, and Brecht. The lecture format makes it far more approachable than Marxism and Form but necessarily more simplistic. Regardless, Rose does a phenomenal job contextualising every theory discussed, outlining the unifying threads that might not be evident when approaching each thinker individually.

The Transition from Feudalism to Capitalism by Rodney Hilton and others – Collecting the 1950s transition debate and complementary material. All your favourites are here: Sweezy, Dobb, Hilton, Hill, Lefebvre, Hobsbawm. I particularly loved the essay by Kohachiro Takahashi.

A Singular Modernity (2002) by Fredric Jameson – A rigorous theorisation of 'modernity' and 'modernism'. All your favourites are closet dialecticians. I devoured this in a week, so good.

Fiction

Guards! Guards! (1989) by Terry Pratchett – My second Discworld novel after having read The Colour of Magic 5 years ago. A joy to read.

Notebook of a Return to the Native Land (1939) by Aimé Césaire – A long poem tracing the coming-into-consciousness of an anti-colonial subject. Rich with history and anger. 'I would go to this land of mine and I would say to it: "Embrace me without fear ... And if all I can do is speak, it is for you I shall speak."'

Hard to Be a God (1964) by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky – Future communist spacemen observe a planet whose civilisation is stuck in its Middle Ages (or, more accurately, backsliding into quasi-fascist reaction). A favourite, feels like it was written specifically for me.

The Tombs of Atuan (1971), The Farthest Shore (1972) by Ursula K. Le Guin – The second and third books of Earthsea. Tombs was excellent, probably the high point of the trilogy, or at least the only novel I felt was truly subversive of contemporary fantasy. The Farthest Shore I very much liked, but the narrative was far more conventional, if not conservative.

Mother Courage and Her Children (1939) by Bertolt Brecht – No one does it like him. I would do anything to be able to see the 2006 Meryl Streep production.

The City and the City (2009) by China Miéville – My first Miéville. This scratched a very specific itch for me, looking forward to when I have the time to start his New Crobuzon series.

Shadow & Claw (1980, 1981) by Gene Wolfe – The first half of the Book of the New Sun. A favourite, if not the favourite.

Melville (1941) by Jean Giono – Something between an essay and novella: a fictionalised account of Melville's time in London in 1849 and his decision to write Moby-Dick. I had very high hopes coming into this but it was not very great. Too hetero.

Heart of Darkness (1899) by Joseph Conrad – I quite enjoyed reading this so I say in the most neutral way possible that this was the longest hundred pages I've ever read.

Gardens of the Moon (1999) by Steven Erikson – The first book in the Malazan Book of the Fallen series. I wanted a huge fantasy world to get invested in (googled 'books like Elden Ring') and this one stood out to me. Erikson's prose left a lot to be desired, but the worldbuilding and plot construction were great. I'll probably read one of these books a year; will provide a series overview in 2034.

Little Blue Encyclopedia (for Vivian) (2019) by Hazel Jane Plante – An elegy for a trans woman by a trans woman, told through encyclopaedia entries about her favourite (fictional) show. So much life packed into this short book.

To the Lighthouse (1927) by Virginia Woolf – A favourite. From this novel alone Woolf ranks among the best prose stylists I've read.

Bartleby, the Scrivener (1853) by Herman Melville – [edit, forgot to mention this one]

[miqotepotatoe]

All of my Ninjago AUs because I am insane & autistic + it's fun

(disclaimer, a vast majority of these focus on cole brookstone because favouritism bias)

My Nonexistant Friend - Ghost!Cole AU where Day of the Departed...did not end so well. He's trapped in the Airjitzu Temple and is effectivly erased from existance. He suffers in nonexistant puragtory for 300 years until Lloyd's future students move in and the Master of Earth of this new era befriends the ghost. Fluff, feels & the power of friendship ensue

Perma Ghost - Ninjago but Cole remains a ghost. To prevent him from fading he anchors himself to friendship bracelets all the ninja + Wu & Pixal wear. He can't stray to far from anyone wearing a friendship bracelet but he doesn't mind he's always with a friend.

Curseworlds - Possession bad end, heavily inspired by The Star from Fionna & Cake. The Preeminent has won and has cursed all the realms and ghosts torment the remaining living souls. A small faction of survivors is fighting to take out the Queen of the Cursed, but it's very difficult with her two princes causing havoc. Anyone order evil Sandstorm?

Reverse - An alt Ninjago where Wu was bit by the Great Devourer instead of Garmadon. Wu becomes an evil dictator, Ninjago is in a lawless era, the og ninja are all traumatised child soldiers made to do Wu's bidding, Garmadon and a few familiar faces are fighting back.

Genderswap - As it says, everyone is genderswapped. But it's like Fionna & Cake where some stuff is different because of the swapped genders.

Elemental Anacondrai - Chen decides to be extra twisted and mark all the loosers of the Tournament with the Anacondrai Mark as a sign of ownership. When the cult is transformed into Anacondrai, they too. So for the last two episodes of ToE, Skylor, Karlof, Gravis, Bolobo, Ash, Cole, Jacob, Chamile & Tox are turned into Anacondrai.

Constrictai!Cole - Cole isn't dehypnotised at the end of Home and is taken prisoner by the Hypnobrai. When the Fangpyre are free and team up with the Hypnobrai, Skales has them turn Cole into a Serpentine. He ends up a Constrictai. The ninja end up rescueing him durring Can of Worms, remove the hypnotism with some anti-venom tea, and now Cole must adjust to his new reptilian body. Lots of Glacier

Lost But Never Found - AU where Cole ends up in the Land of Lost things after running away from his school. He becomes a Finder and is living his best life with his new found family. Sora also ends up there after running away and Cole adopts her

Vampire!Cole - Cole ends up becoming a vampire after getting attacked by one. Lots of hyjinks & vampire hunting (hunting other vampires, not Cole)

Wu Adopts Cole - Wu finds Cole a lot earlier then canon, at 10 years old. He's an orphan, his mum passed from illness and his dad drank himself to death. Wu raises Cole, trains him in his Elemental Power, very wholesome Dad Wu stuff.

Amphibijago - Ninjago + Amphibia crossover. Cole, Kai and Jay take the places of the Calamity Girls and end up in Amphibia. Cole ends up with the frogs, Kai ends up with the toads, Jay ends up with the newts. What could go wrong

The Oni House - Ninjago + The Owl House, basically the Owl House but with Ninjago characters. Cole is a troubled teen about to be sent off to a performing arts boarding school when he ends up in a realm of witches, demons and magic after wandering through a portal. There he meets Lord Garmadon, the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles and his baby dragon demon Rocky. Lava time

Ninja in Eorzea - Ninjago + FFXIV. The ninja play the criticly acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy XIV with an extended free trail with unlimited playtime that allows them to play the award winning expansions Heavensward and Stormblood, and they get suckef in...litterally like Prime Empire.

Miraculous: Tales of Firefly & Charcole Cat - Ninjago + Miraculous. Ninjago City is being ravaged by supervillains created by someone known as the Dark Lord. But new heros have arisen, known as Firefly & Charcole Cat, ready to protect the city from the Dark Lord while trying to balance school & dating. HONEYCOMB MY OTP

Age of Elements - My original Ninjago story set 300 years after canon. Lloyd is training 7 new ninja, the Elemental Masters of Fire, Earth, Wind, Nature, Water, Lightning and Ice to protect the world because a prophetic vision of the furure said so. He's trying his best to make sure they aren't super traumatised by having them keep their ninja identity a secret, not keeping secrets about the FSM family lore, having them go to school, but trauma as a Ninja is a canon event. Got 18 seasons planned and counting

[minnaci]

like the rain, bittersweet

contents: geto suguru x gn!reader, established but complicated relationship, soft!geto, pre-jjk0 / post-star plasma vessel

in which you love geto like the rain loves the sky.

when raindrops fall, do they know they will strike the earth? do they dream of the sky?

rain covers the world in a lavender mist, colored by the faintest tinge of sun. gentle, gentle— a lover's embrace. beside you, the lover. geto. his legs are a comforting presence intertwined with yours. the sheets are warm, his heartbeat pulses under your lips. home is you and suguru, wrapped up in blankets that smell like him.

in these softest of moments, it's easy to forget that you are flirting with stolen time. his breath puffs against your cheek— slow, even, steady. linen rustles.

"stay," he says. his voice is low, groggy. suguru wears exhaustion well— he's a seductive, heavy-lidded thing, luring you back into the cage of his ribs, tucking you right next to his heart. "stay with me."

"you know i can't." this is the most gentle violence, this pleading. you beg him to hold you. he begs you for a kiss, for more. you beg him to come inside, come home. he begs you to stay, stay with him. you wring his heart between your hands. he leaves you, and you stay in this daydream until his scent fades and you can't pretend he isn't gone.

the sun breaks through the clouds. light creeps through the curtains, approaching, encroaching, despite the gentle pitter-patter of rain.

"i know." his adam's apple bobs. "i wish we had more time."

"we could have forever if you came home."

"you know i can't," he says. his lips brush over your forehead, your cheeks, your lips— a butterfly's painting, a series of delicate, fluttering things. when he cups your face in his hands, you feel new calluses. still, he's softer than a baby's breath, than rose petals, because he's with you.

"i know."

suguru is a good lover. in his hands, your heart is one of those joyous, pinwheeling birds, soaring over the sea. he touches you like you're something precious, savors you like the morning dew at sunrise. your romance is a slow dance— something from the movies.

suguru is not a good man. on the cosmic battlefield, that great and terrible expanse in which life wars with death, you stand against him, diametrically opposed. but you hold his heart in your hands, just as surely as he holds yours. blood spilled is spilled from the both of you.

"i'm here now," geto says, pulling you from your thoughts. "we're together now. and we'll be together in the end."

"i'm sorry," you say. a prayer.

"i love you," he says. forgiveness.

he kisses you like he means to devour you. you press back like you want to be devoured.

loving geto is falling with your eyes wide open. you will end as the raindrops do— striking the earth, dreaming of him.

tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[altaneenarts]

pieces of you

DreamXD/GeorgeHD origin story

rating: G | wc: 1.4k | Ao3 Link

In the beginning, there is nothing.

Time does not exist when XD and HD are born from the universe, acknowledging each other’s existence. XD brings together and HD pulls apart in an eternal dance that will form all things. They do not know what they’ll create, they do not know that in simply being, they are everything.

As they push and pull atoms and planets and stars, they realize that they enjoy each other’s company and so their dance continues. After unknown eons and millennia, HD suggests a wager.

“Let us set up a great game, you and I.” They will create the earth and promise not to destroy it as they would their other creations. They promise to let it be and form longer than other celestial bodies. For a time they watch and enjoy as the earth forms and cools, magma forming rock and oceans covering its surface, until one day, they sense another presence.

In the beginning, there was nothing, and Nothing liked it that way, forever asleep until the noise of creation forced them to wake. The Blood God opens their eyes, wandering far from the distant edges of existence without HD or XD’s knowledge. It follows their trail of creation and destruction, absorbing all into its great black maw.

XD desires creation, HD desires destruction, but the Blood God desires nothing. And nothing is what they would leave.

The two gods ignore Nothing for a while, simply moving out of the orbit of the great devourer and their unending, insatiable hunger. But the longer they run, leaving a trail of unraveled galaxies and dying stars to be swallowed in their wake, the more powerful the Blood God becomes.

In the infinite expanse of space and time, eventually comes the confluence, the merging of three entities not meant for each other’s presence. The Blood God finds them.

“Why do you follow us?’ XD and HD finally ask them.

“You create noise, such loud and lively noise. I want silence, I want to return to the void from where I began. I will not rest until all of creation is quiet.”

But that is not what XD and HD want. “But we are creation and silent we cannot be.”

“Then I shall devour you too so that nothing can ever be made again.”

And so comes the first battle, a clash of forces, each eternal, conscious since the beginning of time—they started the clock after all.

In the madness of godly calamity, worlds burn, and galaxies pull asunder amongst the thrashing of the universe’s children. All burn except one.

As the Blood God reaches to devour the Earth, HD intervenes, interceding their path and colliding in a hail of fire and mist and stars. The Blood God, with their absorbed strength and rage, open their great maw and sink in their black fangs.

HD’s strength begins to fade, XD can feel it, a vacuum as nothing begins to fill a space once full of life. But they were not afraid. Gods didn’t feel fear, nor did they know death.

Distracted by their caught prey, the Blood God doesn’t notice XD’s approach until it is too late. Delivered a final mighty blow, the Blood God reels back, wounded and weakened. In a span of time indistinguishable from the rest, XD bestows a curse upon the red god.

“For your greed and folly, I cast upon you this curse: as nothing is what you desire, this I shall grant. You will remain an infant, returned to the womb you so love. You shall be doomed to an egg for the rest of time.” And so the Blood God was trapped, forever frozen in a crimson egg and banished to the far reaches of the cosmos.

As the remnants of their battle float away, XD comes to HD. Both weakened and tired, together they fall to earth, pulled into the gravity of their own creation. Together their forms condense, in firey rain and stardust their souls became flesh and bone. They land upon a beach, the stars painting the sky.

In arms molded to mimic the life they’d born, XD cradles HD, their wounds harsh and prominent. Neither had experienced this in their existence. This is something new.

In their holy tongue, HD speaks. “I’m tired, XD.”

“Tired?” XD questions, “What’s that like?”

HD hums, unconcerned and weightless, “Like falling, fading… I think I shall sleep.”

Gods didn’t know death, so how could they know its gentle touch?

“For how long?” XD asks.

“I don’t know. But I think I’ll return.”

“You don’t know?”

HD shakes their head weakly, “How could I? I’ve never been tired.”

And XD had never been alone. “However long you need, I will wait for you.”

HD smiles. “I know you will. Maybe, I’ll dream of you.”

XD takes their companion's limp fingers, wrapping them in a gentle touch. “Rest well, my other.”

“Goodnight… I’ll see you soon.” HD bows their head and ceases to move.

XD sits there with them, watching the stars.

Gods didn’t know death, so how could they know it was as eternal as they?

_________________

When HD disappeared, a piece of the universe disappeared with them. XD felt it the moment they’d closed their eyes, set in an endless slumber. For the first time in existence, XD felt incomplete. The universe wasn’t balanced.

But that was alright, for one day HD would wake. One day, the half would be made whole.

XD didn’t care at first, waiting was something they could do. Time was infinite, as were they. Centuries passed and still they waited. Centuries turned to millennia and millennia, eons. The hole remained ever-present, a tear forever unhealed.

Gods weren’t born to feel, but as the time flew by, unaware and unconcerned, XD began to. But it wasn’t a pleasant thing. Mortals might call it sadness. XD began to ponder; if they could feel like a mortal then could they die like one? Is that the strange thing that had taken HD from them?

Did gods die? XD didn’t know. Matter could not be destroyed so surely they couldn’t either. Maybe they were scattered, remnants throughout the universe waiting to come together again. Maybe they were just sleeping, waiting to re-emerge from the chrysalis of time, to be reborn when all returned as one. But that was too long. XD could wait forever, but that didn’t mean they wanted to.

XD grew impatient, searching the span of stars and galaxies for any piece of their lost companion. Maybe their essence was in the stars, the moon, in the soil. XD explored the vast corners of the cosmos, through a billion variations of life.

When they began to lose hope, confined to their solitude, XD felt something new. Their eye turned towards one last planet. Earth, the only creation preserved from the gods’ cataclysm. Something called to them there, newly born, a faint but clear song.

In a small land, newly formed from young hands and naive youth, lived a brown-haired boy. His fierce spirit and chaotic joy felt familiar so XD stayed and watched, curious of the call that sang from their soul.

When the boy had grown into a man, XD made a choice.

They returned to earth, their form once again of flesh and blood before the young man. George, his name was George.

“Are you awake?” XD asked in the language of the gods. The human stood fearful, but the spark still burned strong in their gaze.

Confusion became him and at last, the human asked, “Who are you?”

XD stared with divine eyes, undeterred by the mortal’s lack of understanding. After eons of wandering, of missing pieces, XD could see a glint of his other half in this small creature. It drew them in like the gravity so familiar to them, and they would let it drag them into its spiral.

As they stood before the mortal, at last, that sadness seemed to fade. In XD’s hands was hope.

“I am DreamXD,” they spoke at last, “And I am a god.”

The mortal stared in wonder, drawn to the presence of the divine, drawn towards XD as natural as his breath.

Now XD knew, gods did not die, they were remade.

As their companion slumbered in the heart of mortal coils, XD swore an oath that day. For however long this human lived, they’d be at their side. If HD still slept then one day, XD would awaken them.

One day the universe would be made whole.

Ao3 Link