#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.

[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.

[engeorged]

The Conference Part Two

Part one here

Chapter Four - 2021

The annual conference was finally back in person, and Kit couldn’t contain his excitement. This time, he had taken a bold step and reached out to Odin a few weeks prior, arranging to meet up during the event. It was the first time Kit had initiated contact, a testament to his growing confidence. As the day of their reunion approached, Kit’s anticipation grew.

When he finally saw Odin, he was stunned. Odin’s belly had grown significantly larger and rounder since their last virtual meeting. Despite the changes, Odin greeted him with his usual broad smile and infectious energy. “Kit! It’s so good to see you, man!” Odin exclaimed, enveloping Kit in a tight hug. His solid gut almost knocked the wind out of him.

“Wow, Odin,” Kit said, stepping back to get a better look. “You look… different.”

Odin laughed, patting his expansive belly. “Yeah, I’ve been enjoying life a bit too much. Haven’t been training at all, and I’ve been eating way too much. But, you know me, I don’t really care.” His nonchalant attitude and confidence were as captivating as ever. “And fuck everyone else, I think I look great!” Kit tried not to nod too enthusiastically to this statement.

On the second night of the conference, Odin suggested they hit up a local buffet. Kit agreed, looking forward to spending more time with him and watching him eat again. The restaurant, however, turned out to be a less welcoming place than they were expecting. As soon as they walked in, the staff eyed Odin’s size and tried to make him pay twice for the buffet, saying it was company policy for plus sized clients.

“Are you kidding me?” Odin said, his voice rising with a mix of indignation and amusement. “Fine, you want me to pay double? I’ll make sure I get my money’s worth.” With a cheeky grin, he grabbed a plate and started loading it with food. Kit watched in awe as Odin attacked the buffet with a rebellious determination, piling his plate high and devouring everything with gusto.

Odin’s plates were heaped with everything the buffet had to offer: piles of pasta smothered in creamy sauces, slabs of roast beef and turkey, heaps of mashed potatoes swimming in gravy, and every variety of dessert imaginable. Odin relished each bite, his appetite seeming insatiable. Kit gawped at the number of empty plates as Odin continued to eat and eat —fourteen plates in total, each piled higher than the last.

Despite the vast quantities of food he consumed, Odin showed no signs of slowing down or discomfort. His firm, round belly expanded with each plate, pressing tighter against his shirt. The sight was hypnotic to Kit, who couldn’t take his eyes off Odin’s burgeoning stomach.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Odin leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin on his face. He let out a loud, proud, satisfied burp, patting his now noticeably distended belly. “That was fantastic,” he declared. Another burp escaped, and he laughed, rubbing his stomach. “I think I ate enough for three people tonight.” Odin started loudly so the snooty waiter heard.

The fabric of his shirt was now straining, with the buttons barely holding together, and several inches of his hairy, taut flesh poke through the gaps and between the buttons. The expanse of his midsection had grown so prominent that the hem of his shirt had ridden up, revealing the lower curve of his belly, giving off an impression of solidity and fullness. Each breath he takes caused his belly to rise and fall slightly, showing just how packed and tight it has become. Despite the clear signs of overindulgence, Odin seemed content, occasionally stroking the surface of his swollen stomach with a satisfied grin.

Kit marvelled at the shape and volume of Odin’s stomach and how much his belly protruded, firm and taut, stretching the fabric of his shirt to its limit. As they left the buffet, Odin still appeared unfazed by the sheer amount of food he had consumed. It wasn’t until they were a few blocks away from the restaurant that Odin started to show signs of having overindulged. His pace slowed, and he began to look uncomfortable.

“I think… I might have gone a bit overboard,” he admitted, wincing slightly as he placed a hand on his swollen belly. Another soft burp followed, and he chuckled ruefully.

“Let’s get you back to your room,” Kit said, concerned. He supported Odin as they made their way back to the hotel. Once there, Kit guided Odin to his bed, helping him sit down.

“Thanks, Kit,” Odin mumbled, looking exhausted and slightly embarrassed. “I think I might need some help getting out of these clothes.”

Kit swallowed hard, trying to ignore the rush of feelings coursing through him. He carefully helped Odin undress, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled off Odin’s shirt, revealing his massive, firm belly in all its glory. Despite the situation, Kit couldn’t help but admire Odin’s body, his desire for him growing stronger.

“You’re a good friend, Kit,” Odin said, his voice heavy with fatigue. “Thanks for looking after me.”

“Anytime, Odin,” Kit replied, gently easing him back onto the pillows. He covered Odin with a blanket, making sure he was comfortable before stepping back.

Kit, still amazed by the display of gluttony he had witnessed, stood by the bed, unable to tear his eyes away from Odin’s bloated, swollen belly. Odin lay on his back, the blanket already fallen off, exposing his expansive midsection. His belly rose like a dome, firm and taut from the vast amount of food packed inside. It was a striking sight, the hairy expanse of his stomach glistening slightly under the soft light of the room. The skin was stretched tight, accentuating every curve and contour of his rounded belly.

Kit moved closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. He could see the individual strands of hair that covered Odin's stomach, giving it a rugged, masculine appearance. The sheer size of Odin’s belly was captivating; it seemed almost impossible that one person could consume so much. Kit noticed how the belly rose and fell gently with each of Odin’s slow, deep breaths, the rhythmic movement making it seem even more immense.

Leaning in, Kit could see his belly was so tight and firm that it almost looked like it might burst, yet it maintained a certain roundness that was undeniably appealing. Kit’s gaze lingered on the way the light played across the smooth, stretched skin, highlighting the stark difference between Odin's rock-hard pecs and the softness of his expanded gut.

Kit’s heart raced as he took in every detail, feeling a mix of awe and strange attraction. He had never been this close to such a blatant display of gluttony and overindulgence, and it stirred something deep within him. Odin’s belly was a testament to his carefree attitude and his ability to enjoy life to the fullest, and Kit couldn’t help but admire that.

As he stood there, entranced by the sight before him, Kit felt a deep sense of connection and admiration for Odin. It wasn’t just about the physical attraction; it was about the person Odin was, someone who embraced life without hesitation and who had, in turn, helped Kit begin to do the same. With a soft smile, Kit gently re-covered Odin with the blanket, letting his fingers briefly brush against the firm, warm surface of his belly, before quietly stepping back to let his friend sleep in peace.

Chapter Five - 2022

It had been a year since Kit last saw Odin, and the excitement was palpable as he entered the conference venue. Over the past twelve months, Kit and Odin had kept in touch through texts, with Odin frequently updating Kit on his weight gain and the changes in his body. Odin’s messages had been filled with descriptions of his expanding belly, but Kit had only imagined the full extent of it. Now, at the conference, he was eager to see Odin in person and witness the transformation for himself.

Kit’s anticipation grew as he scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of his friend. When he finally spotted Odin, he was struck by how much larger he had become. Odin’s belly was now a dominant, firm presence that seemed to make a statement even before he did. His clothes struggled to contain the sheer size of him, but his trademark charm and confidence were as strong as ever.

“Odin!” Kit called out, weaving his way through the throng of people. Odin turned and his face broke into a wide, welcoming grin. He wrapped Kit in a hearty hug, his large frame encompassing him.

“Kit! It’s fantastic to see you!” Odin exclaimed, his voice booming with enthusiasm. “I’ve been looking forward to this all year.”

“Wow, Odin,” Kit said, stepping back to take in the full extent of Odin’s transformation. “You weren’t kidding about putting on weight. You look incredible.”

Odin chuckled, patting his impressive belly. “Yeah, I’ve really let myself go. But you know me—I’m still enjoying life to the fullest. Ready to dive into the conference?”

They spent the day together, catching up on old times and navigating the various sessions and networking events. Despite Odin’s increased size, he moved with his usual exuberance and energy. Kit was fascinated by how Odin’s confidence seemed unaffected by his physical changes.

The last night of the conference arrived, and with it came the charity auction. Odin, with his characteristic boldness, had entered a bid for a VIP dinner with a renowned celebrity chef. To Kit’s amusement, Odin won the auction, and the two were soon heading to an exclusive restaurant for a special meal.

At the restaurant, the celebrity chef had prepared an extravagant feast. Odin, with an insatiable appetite, dove into the meal with gusto. The table was soon covered with dishes: creamy pasta, roasted meats, fluffy mashed potatoes, and decadent desserts. Odin devoured each plate with a mix of delight and determination, his belly pushing out further and further with every course.

Throughout the meal, Odin’s enjoyment was evident, and he let out a series of satisfied burps. Each time he finished a plate, he leaned back and patted his expanding stomach. Kit watched in awe as Odin’s belly grew even more prominent, the firm roundness of it pushing against his shirt. The fabric of Odin’s shirt was stretched taut across his belly, and as he ate, several inches of his hairy flesh began to poke through the gaps where the shirt had ridden up.

The sight was mesmerising. Odin’s belly bulged forward, its size making the shirt cling to every curve. The shirt’s hem rode up, revealing a strip of Odin’s rounded, hairy midsection. It was a visual testament to the sheer amount of food he had consumed, the fabric straining and stretching to accommodate the expanding mass.

Odin and Kit found themselves walking back to their hotel room through the maze of beige corridors. Odin’s belly was enormous and taut, having expanded significantly from the massive feast he had devoured. Each step he took caused his bloated stomach to sway slightly, and he occasionally let out deep, satisfied belches, his body struggling to digest the immense quantity of food.

Kit walked beside him, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been trying to muster the courage to tell Odin how he felt, but the sight of Odin’s stuffed belly and the sound of his contented belches were a distraction. Odin’s shirt had ridden up, revealing several inches of his hairy, swollen midsection, and Kit couldn’t help but steal glances, captivated by the sight.

“Man, I really went all out tonight,” Odin said with a chuckle, giving his belly a hearty pat. “I might have set a new record.”

Kit laughed nervously. “Yeah, you certainly did. I’ve never seen anyone eat like that before.”

“I have to admit, Kit,” Odin said, leaning back and placing a hand on his enormous belly, “I’ve really let myself go this year. I’ve been eating way too much and haven’t been disciplined with my training.”

Kit stopped him, taking a deep breath. “Odin, you’re magnificent. I’ve enjoyed hearing about your progress, but seeing it in person is something else. I like who you are and how you’ve embraced yourself. I actually find your size really . . .’

“Kit, there’s something I need to talk to you about,” Odin said, his tone more serious now. He looked directly at Kit, his blue eyes steady and sincere.

Kit felt a knot form in his stomach. This was it—the moment he had been both dreading and hoping for. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.

“Odin, there’s something I need to tell you too,” Kit began, but Odin held up a hand to stop him.

“Let me go first,” Odin said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “Kit, over the past year, I’ve realised something important. I’ve caught feelings for you. It’s not just about friendship anymore. I care about you in a way that’s different from how I feel about anyone else.”

Kit’s eyes widened in surprise. He had hoped for this moment, but hearing it from Odin’s mouth made it all the more real. He felt a surge of relief and joy, mixed with the residual nerves that had been plaguing him all evening.

“Odin, I feel the same way,” Kit said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I was scared. Scared that you might not feel the same, or that this connection we have might not be as strong as I hoped.”

Odin nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, you don’t need to be scared anymore. I’ve felt it too. This connection between us is real, and it’s special. I’m glad we’re finally talking about it.”

Kit’s heart swelled with happiness and relief. He had spent so much time worrying and overthinking, but now, hearing Odin’s straightforward confession, he felt an overwhelming sense of peace.

“I’ve admired you for so long, Odin,” Kit said softly. “Not just for your confidence and your way of living life to the fullest, but for who you are as a person. You’ve helped me grow and find confidence in myself, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful.”

Odin let out another belch, then chuckled. “You’ve accepted me for who I am, no matter how much I’ve changed physically. That means a lot to me, Kit. I’m not the same guy I was a year ago, but you’ve stuck with me through it all.”

They sat there, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding and shared feelings. Kit looked at Odin’s massive belly, marvelling at its size and the way it stretched his shirt to its limits. He felt a strange mix of awe and attraction, unable to take his eyes off it.

“You’re incredible, Odin,” Kit said finally, his voice filled with emotion. “Thank you for being so honest with me.”

Odin smiled, reaching out to squeeze Kit’s hand. “And thank you for accepting me, Kit. I’m excited to see where this takes us.”

Chapter Six - 2023

A year later, Odin and Kit arrived at the annual conference, for the first time as a couple. The journey they had taken together over the past year had brought them closer than ever. Odin had moved to Kit's city and taken a job in the same analytics department. Surprisingly, their dynamic worked well with Kit as Odin's boss, and the respect they had for each other only deepened their bond.

Odin was now a good 400 pounds, his belly a prominent and solid mass that had become a central part of their relationship. They had both admitted their mutual fascination with Odin's weight gain, finding joy and excitement in watching him grow. This conference felt different for both of them, as they navigated it together, fully embracing their unique dynamic.

After attending the mandatory sessions, they decided to skip out on the rest of the conference. Instead, they found themselves wandering the hotel, eventually discovering a wedding reception in a neighbouring conference room. Kit joked that they should crash the wedding and see if there was any good food in there that they could fill Odin’s gut with.

Odin grinned wickedly and went to open the door.

“Are you sure about this?” Kit asked, his voice a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Odin grinned, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Absolutely. Let’s have some fun.”

They slipped into the reception unnoticed, finding a table at the far end of the room. The spread of food was impressive, with a buffet that seemed to go on forever. Odin settled himself at the end of the table, his large frame and expansive belly drawing a few curious glances. Kit felt a surge of excitement and anticipation as he prepared to bring Odin plate after plate of food.

Kit started with appetisers, loading a plate with a variety of finger foods. He returned to Odin, setting the plate down in front of him and watching with a mixture of awe and desire as Odin dug in with gusto. The first plate disappeared quickly, and Kit hurried back for more, this time piling on hearty servings of pasta, meats, and bread.

Odin’s belly as usual began to swell even more as he ate, his shirt straining against the growing mass. Each bite seemed to make his stomach expand, the firm, round flesh pushing out further and further.

“Keep them coming, Kit,” Odin said between bites, his voice filled with satisfaction.

Kit obliged, his own excitement growing with each plate he delivered. He brought platters of roasted vegetables, creamy mashed potatoes, rich stews, and decadent desserts. Odin devoured everything with enthusiasm, his belly stretching tighter and tighter with each passing minute.

As Odin polished off his fifteenth plate of food, he let out a deep, contented belch, patting his distended stomach. Kit could hardly contain his excitement, his heart racing as he watched Odin’s belly rise and fall with each heavy breath. The skin was stretched taut, several inches of hairy flesh poking through the gaps in his shirt.

“You’re doing amazing, Odin,” Kit whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

Odin grinned, clearly enjoying the experience. “I feel like I could burst, but I love it. I love seeing how much I can push myself.”

The thrill of their secret escapade, combined with their mutual admiration, made the moment even more intense. Kit leaned in closer and kissed Odin passionately, his voice filled with emotion. “You’re magnificent, Odin. I love seeing you like this.”

Odin reached out and squeezed Kit’s hand, his eyes filled with a mixture of affection and determination. “And I love that you’re here with me, supporting me. You’ve made this journey incredible, Kit.”

As they continued their covert feast, the couple felt more connected than ever. Each plate of food, each shared glance, and each word of encouragement deepened their bond. They were fully embracing their unique relationship, finding joy and excitement in their shared experiences.

Eventually, the inevitable happened. A hotel staff member approached, a mixture of confusion and irritation on their face. “Excuse me, but I believe you’re not guests of this wedding.”

Odin and Kit exchanged a quick, amused glance. “I think we’ve had our fill anyway,” Odin said with a chuckle, rising to his feet. His belly jutted out prominently, a testament to the incredible volume of food he had consumed.

They left the reception, both of them laughing as they made their way back to their room. Kit couldn’t help but marvel at Odin’s immense belly, now even more swollen and impressive after their adventure.

As they headed back to their hotel room, their laughter echoing down the hallway. Odin’s belly was immensely swollen, straining against his shirt and filling Kit with a mixture of admiration and excitement. As they entered their room, Kit’s mind buzzed with a mischievous idea.

“Stay here,” Kit said with a grin, grabbing the room service menu. Odin raised an eyebrow, but the sparkle in Kit’s eyes was enough to keep him curious.

Kit placed a hefty order: burgers, fries, onion rings, and a variety of desserts. He knew Odin’s capacity was extraordinary, and he wanted to see just how far they could push it. When the food arrived, the sheer volume of it was almost overwhelming, but Kit’s excitement only grew.

“Ready for round two?” Kit asked, setting the first tray of food in front of Odin.

Odin chuckled, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “You’re spoiling me, Kit.”

“Only the best for you,” Kit replied, and they both dove into the feast.

Plate after plate, Odin consumed the food with gusto. The burgers disappeared quickly, followed by heaps of crispy fries and golden onion rings. Kit hand fed him bite after bite, watching with awe as Odin’s belly expanded even further, pushing him well past the point of fullness.

By the time the last onion ring was gone, Odin was lying back on the bed, his shirt fully undone and his belly an enormous, taut sphere. His breath came in heavy, contented sighs, and he let out a deep belch, his body struggling to accommodate the sheer volume of food.

“You did amazing,” Kit whispered, his voice filled with admiration. “But I think you deserve a little extra pampering.”

With that, Kit gently began to remove the rest Odin’s clothes, carefully freeing him from the constraints of his too-tight attire. He laid Odin down on the bed, his belly now fully exposed, round and firm, the hairy expanse glistening under the soft light.

Kit’s hands moved to Odin’s swollen belly, starting with a gentle, soothing massage. Odin closed his eyes, a blissful expression spreading across his face as Kit’s fingers worked their magic, kneading and rubbing the overstuffed mass. For the best part of an hour, Kit’s hands moved expertly, relieving the pressure and soothing the tight skin.

Odin was in a state of pure relaxation, every touch sending waves of comfort through his body. But slowly, Kit’s hands lifted off his belly. After a few moments Odin’s eyes fluttered open in confusion.

He looked around, unsure what was happening when his gaze finally settled on a small box placed on the top curve of his swollen gut. His heart skipped a beat as he realized what it was. Turning his head, he saw Kit down on one knee beside the bed, his eyes filled with love and hope.

“Odin,” Kit began, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’ve brought so much joy and adventure into my life. You’ve shown me what it means to truly embrace who I am, and I can’t imagine a future without you. Will you marry me?”

Odin’s eyes filled with tears, his heart swelling with emotion that matched the size of his belly. He reached out, taking the box and opening it to reveal a beautiful ring.

“Yes, Kit,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Kit slipped the ring onto Odin’s finger, then leaned in to kiss him, their lips meeting in a tender, heartfelt moment. As they embraced, Kit’s hand gently rested on Odin’s belly, the physical embodiment of their shared journey and mutual adoration.

The night ended with them curled up together, their hearts intertwined, knowing that whatever the future held, they would face it side by side, with love, laughter, and plenty of indulgent feasts.

For more of my stories click here

[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

more in my patreon

[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

[jadegretz]

Lulu: Threads of Fate and Forbidden Magic by Jade Gretz

The Witch and the Lich

Zanarkand was a city of ghosts, an echo of a world that had long since crumbled into dust. The ruins stretched across the horizon like the bones of some ancient beast, the skeletal remains of towers and temples jutting into the sky. The air was thick with the memories of the dead, their whispers carried on the wind, tugging at the edges of the living's minds.

Lulu stood at the entrance of the Great Hall, her dark eyes scanning the shadowy expanse before her. The once-grand chamber was now a vast, empty void, the marble floors cracked and stained with the passage of time. Statues that had once lined the walls had fallen, their broken pieces scattered across the floor like the remnants of a forgotten dream.

But there was something else here—something ancient and malevolent, a presence that lurked just beyond the edge of perception. Lulu could feel it, a coldness that seeped into her bones, chilling her from the inside out. This was no ordinary ruin, no simple relic of the past. This place was cursed, tainted by the lingering power of a being that should have long ago passed into the Farplane.

The Lich.

She had heard the tales, the whispers of a powerful undead sorcerer who had once ruled over these lands. His soul, they said, had refused to move on, clinging to the remnants of his kingdom with a hatred so fierce that it had twisted him into something monstrous. Now, he haunted these ruins, a vengeful spirit bound to the place of his death, drawing power from the very land that had once been his.

Lulu knew the danger she faced, but she had come to Zanarkand for a reason. The Lich had grown stronger, his influence spreading like a plague across the land. Villages had fallen, their inhabitants driven mad by nightmares, or worse, by the Lich’s call to join his ranks. If he was not stopped, all of Spira could fall into darkness.

She stepped forward, her boots echoing on the stone floor. The air grew colder as she moved deeper into the hall, the shadows growing longer, darker, as if the very light was being devoured by the presenc …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[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!

[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

[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

[truthandadare]

Endless Are We

Viktor/Jayce one-shot sort of fix-it

Rated T

“Tell me, in every universe did I lose you?”

“You never lose me Jayce, you never had me.”

In which Viktor and Jayce are devoured by the arcane only to find themselves journeying across the intricate threads of time and reality, finding their way back to one another.

In the sea of stars at the causeway of infinite universes and timelines, Viktor awakened.

He’d been devoured by the arcane and spat back out as mangled bits of himself. He stood with a foreign solitude and ease, devoid of agony for the first time without the presence of the Hexcore. Thrice dead, life half lived, and now…

Now?

Truth of the expanse around him galloped across his ever cerebral mind. There was no need for now in this place, for it blended with then, with soon. Time spread and compressed in this celestial causeway, this boundless void. Past, present and future all breathing in coherence in this vast ocean. When besieged by the Hexcore he’d seen timelines like rivers of veins beneath skin; branching off with circumstances and choices, weaving, pulsing. In losing himself, Viktor bore witness to branches, webs of realities, universes, times. The abrupt departure of the Hexcore left the coppery aftertaste of magic, half remembered dreams now dissolving like sugar on the tongue.

Viktor lifted what should have been his hands to his face, stared into the milky starlight of them, their translucence allowing for a murky view of the surrounding technicolor field; midnight blues, amethyst purples, and greens so deep they resembled obsidian. They merged around him in a valley of jewel tones, moving ever so slowly, sinking beneath a horizon of stars like a sun setting on a lazy afternoon. Constellations above and below him hummed, a decidedly different tune to the song of magic from the azure crystals who’d been his companions, his forging and unmaking. This celestial melody was deeper, a purr, a rumble of life and existence.

It was then, in the low roar of realities, staring into the ocean of universes through his almost-hands, that guilt began to rear it’s mighty skull and squeeze .

The misery captured him first, dunking his heart into a current so dreadful it left him gasping and heaved over in the dizzying valley of wherever-he-was. The infinite stars pulsed with the rush of his heart as he leaned back again and brought his knees to his forehead. Tucked into himself, Viktor saw their faces. The hues of their eyes, their scars and freckles, the kink of hair and chip of nail. Their stories and tragedies. He knew each one, felt their names burn the tip of his tongue. All of them victims of the Hexcore’s appetite for perfection, victims of his body and mind made vessel to it’s great crusade. Victims of what he became.

Victims of him.

So long he’d been in the company of the collective voice, with the monster he created….no no it was a they…. the monster they created. It was the thought of they –he and his partner—that shattered him.

Loneliness was next, and it was a drowning thing. It dragged him within it’s depths and held him captive. He could no longer hear the whispers or feel the rumble of arcanic presence. Viktor was utterly alone, splintered pieces of himself cobbled back together to birth something new, something almost-him.

Hadn’t he joined him in the end? Foreheads tipped together, hands clasped, eyes staring with an agonizing acceptance of finality. His partner, his greatest friend and almost enemy, the epicenter of an old aching desire and long discarded dreams.

He’d seen their paths intertwined across universes, across times. Even as the possibilities slipped from his memory with every breath, Viktor still remembered–and the revelation threatened to consume him….in each possibility it was his partner who was destined to be a sacrifice and in only one did it matter.

“Jayce,” his voice was a reverberation, barely an echo swallowed into the vast sea of everything. “Jayce…” he whispered again, desperation and grief twisting through his mind, souring his stomach. The loss was drowning, too great an anguish, a deep bone marrow pain that burned him from within. He tucked further, wrapping his arms around his knees and cradling himself through the waves of grief, whispering the name that pained him most.

The roaring chorus around him seemed to swell…and it grew…growing, growing, growing until it reached a cacophony. It rang through Viktor’s ears, burrowing into his mind. His hands shot to cover himself as the racket intensified in it’s dissonance, spinning, rising, a tsunami of sound that built and built and–

Stopped. There was silence.

Viktor raised his head and stared into the quiet sea of stars, chest rising and falling as his heart thundered. The expanse seemed to wobble slightly, to tilt, before swirling as if a pebble was skipped along the surface of a glassy pond beneath a canopy of northern lights. He felt no change to his body as the world around him spiraled, as it darkened and dimmed to make way for richer colors.

It was golden light blurring his vision, warming his skin. Viktor lifted his hand to shield himself from the blinding brightness, scooted back only to hear the teeth aching screech of chair leg against marble. The air was peppered with the perfume of old books, fresh paper, dusty chalk. The scientist shook his head slightly as his ears rang, breathed deeply until the sudden tinnitus flare softened, replaced with the click and slish of chalk to board. Finally he took his hand from in front of his face, squinted in the glow of gilded morning sunlight.

In place of the void of endless constellations, with his back to Viktor and eyes settled on the tapestry of mathematics on the board, stood Jayce Talis.

Viktor’s chest clenched, breath caught. Something slipped from his hands as he stared at his former partner, a figure etched into the very fabric of his cosmic existence. It wasn’t until the dropped object hit the polished marble below with a startling THWAK that he registered what it was. Wood warn, varnish dulled by time and extensive use, the cane was a relic of days when the battle with his body lacked so much edge.

The sound reverberated through the grand classroom, louder than it should have been, as if the weight of entangled histories and possibilities twisting through Viktor’s mind only amplified its fall.

Jayce pivoted on a heel, eyes shooting to Viktor first, scanning, then to the fallen cane. Concern melted to befuddled amusement. Chills slithered up Viktor’s disloyal spine as he looked over Jayce’s impossible jawline, melted bronze of his eyes, sturdy body drenched in sunbeams.

“You weren’t even listening to me,” Jayce gave a petulant roll of his eyes before pointing a dull nub of chalk to the board in front of him, littered with a labyrinth of equations. “It's not enough to harvest solar or wind; the trick is in the architecture of the system itself.” Jayce carried on his unilateral conversation in quick syncopation. “We're talking about dynamic energy grids that adapt in real-time, optimizing every joule of power, rather than static, inefficient systems, if we use h–”

Breath quickening, chest heaving, Viktor hurled himself from his chair, ignoring the sudden and striking ache in his leg. With a furious swipe of his forearm, he cut across the board, leaving a jagged gash through the equations and a smear of chalk dust staining his sleeve. His…academy uniform sleeve. Electricity zapped through his blood as he stared at the burgundy fabric, identical to Jayce’s. Rays of sunbeams dimmed and dissolved around them and he drew his eyes away from his arm to see plump gray clouds darken the spring sky swirling above the class room’s skylight. Fat raindrops began to patter against the glass, the only sound echoing in the room before Jayce cleared his throat.

“Uh…” Jayce’s jaw fell slack and his gaze scanned Viktor anew. “The fuck was that?”

“We can’t build this.” Viktor practically choked on each word. It was a voice scarred by ticking clocks, made hoarse by the modulated hum of evolution, a voice unfit for the polished halls of the Academy on a breezy spring day. “None of this, Jayce.”

Thunder echoed outside, it’s power rumbling the very floor beneath their feet and echoing the tremor in his words. A flash of lightning split the sky, a sharp and fleeting spotlight over Jayce’s puzzled expression.

“Did you sleep last night?” Jayce tilted his head, amber eyes flicking across Viktor’s face.

“We can’t—”

“I can tell you skipped breakfast again—”

“The risks are—”

“I know the lectures are rudimentary for you,” Jayce’s shoulders sagged as his voice softened, almost apologetic. “And yeah it’s risky showing all these theoretic ideas on the exam but I really can’t afford mediocre grades.” Jayce gave a lopsided smirk. “So you owe me your notes, and a strong ass drink, maybe dinner. Then we can both fill our stomachs and refuel.”

Something coiled and warmed in the deep pit of Viktor’s stomach. Burned there as pulsing embers.

“This,” Viktor nodded to the assaulted board “isn’t Hextech?”

Jayce’s brow furrowed, confusion painting his handsome features.

“I swear…” Jayce’s voice was low with annoyance. “If Heimerdinger adds one more term to this final, I’ll invent something that’ll scare the living shit out of him…patent it.”

This Jayce, clad in matching unmarked cream and burgundy of a past that felt both distant and near, was unmarred by time. His hair ruffled like raven feathers, untainted by pomade or stray grays. This Jayce was unburdened with apocalyptic responsibilities. This Jayce was not his .

This Jayce was staring at him.

“You need a nap. Maybe a tranquilizer.” Jayce’s lips curled with a hint of a smile as he reached for Viktor’s cane.

The young Talis fiddled with the cane, inspected it, rubbing it clear of nonexistent dust, before handing it gently to Viktor. Tender, he was so tender then, and Viktor felt the rush of heat journey from the burning embers in his stomach to spread across his cheeks, the tips of his ears and nose.

“You always underestimate my exhaustion,” Viktor mumbled breathlessly, watched as Jayce hoisted his bag of textbooks across his shoulder and ran a hand through his ruffled hair- this only made it worse.

“Let’s get you back to the dorm, yeah?”

Dorm. Back to the dorm. Their dorm?

Wind howled through the outdoor corridor as Viktor followed this Jayce toward the courtyard as a hypnotized moth to lamplight. This Jayce slowed to keep stride with Viktor, gave him a smile when he caught him staring, as if he’d captured side glances a thousand times.

What timeline, what universe, what reality had the twister of fate thrust Viktor into? A cruel gift. Utterly torturous.

The storm rustled everything in the little courtyard as they passed, pushing the hydrangea bushes with their fluffy clouds of fuchsia and lavender petals and sending waves of willow branches to kiss the columns of marble. Fellow students darted across the courtyard, huddled together beneath umbrellas or cupped hands. Lightning flashed again, sending a ripple of gasps through the crowd of scurrying students.

“Here,” Jayce shucked out of his jacket as thunder vibrated the air around them. Before Viktor could protest warm fabric draped over his back, the top of his head. Jayce tucked himself close, forearm hovering just by Viktor's ear as he tipped his chin down to look into Viktor’s face, until they were a mere inch from each other. Droplets rolled from the cotton fabric and dripped over their skin. The jacket was a sweet gesture, yes, but useless.

The heat of Jayce’s closeness submerged Viktor deeper, lower, into the syrupy sweetness. Awful for him, positively ruiness to relish in a moment that should not have been his. His eyes followed a particularly rouge raindrop as it dripped from the jacket, across Jayce’s temple, down his cheek, his jaw. The urge to raise on tip toe and follow the raindrop’s path with his lips was all consuming, devouring.

“Pitomec .” Viktor whispered in his mother tongue, cursing Jayce an idiot, a radiant dreamer, an irrefutable genius and fool.

“What?” Jayce asked as a silence gripped them. Rain fell in thick sheets around them blurring the world to watercolors.

“Such brilliance,” Viktor said with an awed sigh “and you never knew.”

“Then tell me.” Jayce’s voice was honeyed warmth, petal soft, a bewitching thing almost victim to the growing sound of rainfall, to the crackle of thunder, to the low rumbling hum that was rising.....rising, ever rising. It was a sound that did not belong here–not here. Not in the lovely impossible-possibility where they could learn about the world side by side, dorm together, hide from a spring storm beneath a futile jacket.

The hum rose, blending and bleeding into the rumble of thunder, crescendoed. The blur of the rainy courtyard around them bleeding to Viktor’s view of this young Jayce, until the tenderness of this Jayce’s gaze turned to a swirl like caramel in a confectionary.

“Never go into business with me Jayce,” Viktor said quickly, his mouth an aching inch away from where Jayce’s delightfully puzzled image and warmth were disappearing, changing, shifting into something colder.

Slowly the plop of raindrops to his face, the welcome heat of Jayce’s jacket...all were only a damp echo, replaced with chill of cloud mist and a gripping silence. The sky turned ink black, speckled with stars that seemed to dim with exhaustion. Clouds of weak graphite gray wafted about Viktor, their mist bone-chilling cold as it passed over him.

Horror wrapped its claws around Viktor as this new reality came into sickening focus before him. In place of the sweet spring student Jayce beneath rain and water absorbent fabric, was the haunting face of a man who’d sacrificed, whose eyes were replaced with blurred bronze, body an unrecognizable shell lined with the residue of magic as patches of moss and forests of coral. There was no bright smile, no petulant roll of amber eyes or twist of a smile. The arcane had stripped all of his unique edges, dulled him to something indistinguishable.

This Jayce, with it’s lifeless face the same aching inch away from Viktor’s, who bravely placed his hammer before the might of the arcane, who sacrificed his life for nothing and was defeated.

Viktor tipped himself forward, staring into the cold metallic scraps of the friend he’d known and destroyed in this world. The unraveling of this world left Jayce as an exoskeleton, as worse than a corpse. Gutted and nothing but a memory of a man. Grief tumbled in Viktor’s stomach, pulling at his rips, closing his throat, pounding his heart.

He released a breathless wail as he brought his shaking hands to either side of what would have been a chin and stared into the remnants of the man he loved.

“Jayce,” he whispered into the mist. “You pitomec .” He called the man a fool once more, leaned against the relic of a companion, tipped his lips against the cold metallic echo of Jayce and wept.

The world blurred, and he let it.

Take him, take him from this world and on to the next. And so the tortuous arcane did. Again, and again. The sound of a vengeful infinity swirled him through the branches of possibilities, repeatedly, in reverse, then onward as he tried to make some sense of the stretching and compressing seconds around him. It swept him away to the next reality, another, and another until they flitted and changed before him in single blinks. The arcane spread Viktor across time– to glittering classrooms, putrid sewers of the Undercity, the welcome but shivering arms of his worried mother, to the heart of the Hexgates where crystals sang and runes danced. Beneath skies of rain, hail, sleet, fireworks, constellations, and clouds of autumn pollen. Each reality fused and curled, toppeling him through endless paths with merciless violence.

He saw their faces, the victims of his failures, each one a burning brand upon his soul. Each a victim to a limitless destiny to destroy. Their eyes followed him, devoured him.

And there was Jayce, a repetitive specter in each timeline, in every life. Haunting him, following him across the cosmos.

This was a torment deserved, a doom he was worthy of.

Still he wailed, he screamed, his voice a silent curse. Still Viktor reached out, palms and heart empty.

Still he reached.

He did not hear the dissipating roar over his cries and curses, did not see the returning cosmos embrace and cradle him through his tears. It was not until he heard the echoing melody of his own name that he looked up into the sea of infinity, to the image of a man across the swirling sea. Viktor paused, tears slowing and rolling down his neck as he watched the figure stand, regarding him in a heart bursting sort of awe. The figure was made of starlight, glowing in celestial contrast to the darkened vastness.

“Viktor?” His name from those lips was a benediction across the stars.

Perhaps it was the way the man flung himself forward across the horizon, or the journey through thousands of realities, or something deep and primal within him–but he knew at once, this was his.

“Jayce,” Viktor’s voice was a croak, hollow, the very depth of the name having traveled with him across time. And he ran, painless and unburdened across the astral valley to him.

They collided in a luminous embrace, their bodies pressed together, kindled by the heat of the other. The identical glow within each of them dissipated, leaving them as human once more. Jayce pressed his face into the crook of Viktor’s neck and pulled, while Viktor reached at the silky fabric of Jayce’s jacket and squeezed. Both clutched, their tears raining against the other’s skin, brine slipping between their lips.

“I couldn’t burn your name,” Jayce had the voice of a man shattered, a man haggard, a man grieving the very thing in his arms. “I’d thought I…”

“You—”

“Viktor,” Jayce buried himself further into the hollow of Viktor’s neck and left a kiss so distressed, so quick, Viktor wondered if he was slipping to another reality once more. His voice vibrated against Viktor’s skin, sending chills up his spine. “I should have let you go, and I couldn’t. I saw it. In every reality…I didn’t. Forgive me.”

“Why?” Viktor found his voice through the maelstrom in his chest.

“I don’t deserve forgiveness-“

“No,” Viktor pulled just enough away to look into Jayce’s desolate expression. “Why did you keep me alive?”

Amber eyes searched, their weary breaths mingling as they stared at one another.

“Because…” Jayce lowered his head, his tousled hair falling into his face as he gathered his words “because the absence of you was agony. Like tearing myself by the sinew, pulling thread by thread, until there was nothing left of me but the ache of you…”

Viktor’s hands flew to hold Jayce’s face with a firmness that left them both gasping.

Fool. It was he, who was the pitomec . All this time, all these realities, and he thought he suffered this devotion in solitude.

“It suits you,” Viktor slid a thumb over the smooth ebony of Jayce’s beard and hoped - oh what a dangerous thing - that the stars illuminated the reverence on his features. Jayce Talis melted against him, gifting a broken little smile that cracked Viktor open and left him breathless.

“Yeah?” A low laugh rumbled out of Jayce, the movement shaking their chests against each other. “Tell me,” Jayce closed his eyes as a momentary gloom pained his features. “In every universe, did I lose you?”

“You never lose me Jayce,” Viktor whispered as he brought his forehead to Jayce’s once more, as they had when they’d halted calamity. “You never had me.” He felt Jayce pull toward him, the breeze of a devastated gasp waft across his face “But…” Viktor leaned back to cup Jayce’s face in his hands, stare into the bronze eyes that followed him across the stars. “You can have me now.”

He leaned back as Jayce pressed a tender hand against Viktor’s cheekbone, slid a thumb across a salted tear stain. With his other hand, Jayce wove his finger’s with Viktor’s.

Intertwined they were across the universes, through the branches of time and reality. This devotion, this affection–true unfettered affection. This love.

It was Viktor who leaned forward to capture Jayce’s lips with his. His heart hammered as he pushed forward, allowing their bodies to press further against one another before he broke apart, suddenly uncertain, only to find a smile spread wide across Jayce’s face. Jayce pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, another, to a freckle on his cheek, to his eyelid, to his neck. Viktor gasped into the touch with delight, pressed his hands to the back of Jayce’s neck as the man showered him with kisses, caresses.

“We’re probably dead, you know?” Viktor announced against Jayce’s lips, felt the smile that spread and remained. Jayce kissed him through his smile, with soft searching tongue and gentle teeth that pulled at his bottom lip. With strong hands that spread across his back and clutched hungrily at his waist.

“What is a lifetime without you to a moment here in this infinity.”