#death of sentience

[equalsrefl]

Sur le TekhnoSaant-iance

The high road to thinking no longer passes through a deepening of human cognition, but rather through a be­coming inhuman of cognition, a migration of cognition out into the emerging planetary technosentience reservoir, into ‘dehumanized landscapes…emptied spaces’ where human culture will be dissolved.

The error here is in the assumption that cognition has ever been other than inhuman (cf. Stiegler), i.e. inseparably imbricated with technics, from the advent of primal technologies including language. The fetishism central to all accelerationisms lies in such a disavowal.

To cut through Kubernetic Myst-ificatión Nous must say again, but

Lowder && Prowder:

Toot şaanti-ance c'est le tekhno-şaantianz. Nexxxisst paw d şaantianz sin Tooling.

Al "sūbstanz" tekhnosentiant q *Materia* A Vrai Abs-triike-Zœn, SPWNd de Enterred-Faze Tekhno-Neu-Raël (EFTNR).

Say ningun Be-coming, no hay megrıtzyön, no hay progress-ion d şantianz, le nature d witch A Sifr-Sum comme Toot Phrms Sanos (TPS) d Kapital.

Al maijür part d cantidad-y-calidad şantianz re-mayne estétiq throut Liztory.

[nyaaamato]

orpheus & eurydice

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐕

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: An intruder seems to have woven themselves into your bed, and the lil' marines are not happy about it.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // None.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter III} • {Chapter V}

Nuzzling into your bed sheets. You breathe them in, liking the light musk of wisteria they have to them. Your hands trying to grip at them and bring them closer to your body, but you furrow your eyebrows when they tighten and don’t move. Confused on why they wouldn’t. No one else lays in bed with you, and you don’t have any laundry on your bed, or did you? You forget sometimes.

Slowly opening up your eyes, and shuffling up a little bit on your bed. You narrowly look at what may be obstructing you to have your own blankets. A little grumble coming from you before your eyes widen in shocked surprise, your breath catching in your throat. Not expecting to have a whole ass suit of armor in your bed, taking up most of your bed with its arm laid to the side where your head would have been if you were to have cuddled the block of armor. (Which you may or may not have done in your sleep.)

Quickly looking around your room for any more random armor just laying about in your room, you don’t find anything except the one that threatens to break your bed frame and the whole entire foundation of the apartment. Its tropical turquoise and gold armor giving a shimmer as the sun rises and glows upon it. Its breast plate moving slowly up and down, telling you something or someone was breathing inside of it.

…Just how did you suddenly get a whole suit of armor in your bed? Not to mention with someone inside of it? You know you didn’t just go out after work and picked up yourself knight and bedded him last night, especially a Space Marine. You know your own mini marines wouldn’t be too happy about bringing another Space Marine into the home, much less somehow bed one, but you do try and recall what you did last night just in case that is what you actually did. It wouldn’t be below you to do such a thing when you're incredibly sleepy.

Wait… just where were your little Marines? They usually clung to you in their sleep like some baby sloths. Did you accidentally fling them off in your sleep? Did you roll over on them? Did this suit of armor take them? Squish them even?

Oh, that thought gets you to shuffle through your sheets quickly. Your hands carefully patting down the more bumpy spot’s just in case before shuffling through them again like you were looking for a hidden remote or a pen. How could you not feel the big thing of armor in your bed? How could you not feel it getting into your bed? How couldn’t you feel the obvious dip in the mattress? Did you need to call the police of this? You know you really should.

Your hand bumps up against something small, and you are quick to wrangle it out of your blankets. Unfolding the blanket like a burrito and revealing the little curled up marine inside. A great, mental sigh coming out of you as you hold your little Night Lord close in the palms of your hands. His form actually looking like a cute, lil’ baby bat as he moves in your hold, looking up at you with a quiet coo, questioning you sleepily, but where were your other three Marines?

Searching through your blankets again. You go at a gentle pace, not wanting to disturb the much larger Space Marine sleeping on your bed while you hold Saveth close to your chest. Your hands running over another solid bump in your blankets and immediately start to unwrap another small marine inside of it. Their maroon armor popping out of the blankets with a tiny grumble leaving them when you gently scoop them in your hands as well. The Night Lord and World Eater gently brushing up against each other and sleepily cooing before they snuggle up to each other in an adorable, protective ball.

You would have fawned over them, and taken several blackmailing pictures of it, if you weren’t looking for your other two marines bundled up somewhere in your blankets. Hoping they weren’t squashed like a pancake by possibly you or this suit of armor in your bed. You wouldn’t know what to tell the apothecary’s or yourself if that happened.

Shuffling all around the bed, you don’t find any other little bumps to gently press down. Your heart jumping in your chest as you think of the worst that might have happened to your other two Marines before you catch a glimpse of a dull green near the pauldrons of the massive armor in your bed. Another mental sigh escaping you as you realize that another of your marines were safe, but how exactly were you to get your marine off of this much larger space marine? Climb on top of the larger Space Marine? Poke the lil’ Death Guard off his pauldron with the end of a broom? Pspsps’ at him quietly in hopes to not wake up the larger marine? How do you approach this?

The large marine suddenly huffs out and groans, spooking the Marines in the palms of your hands awake. Their bodies rising up in immediate alert as they scramble away from each other, giving each other a tiny hiss before scanning their surroundings, looking at the situation. Not expecting a Thousand Son to be in your bed either. They don’t remember you bringing in another Space Marine, but that wasn’t the weird part. The weird part was this Thousand Son smelled exactly like Scarab. Was this Scarab?

Saveth can’t help but call out to the large, blue Space Marine against his better judgment, gaining a heavy smack to the back of his helmet by Sarvak who growls at him for his stupidity. Feeling how their human tenses up and holds her breath as all three of them watch the Thousand Son suddenly rise up from the bed like a mummy. The bed creaking underneath his weight as he gets far too close for your comfort. The Thousand Son nearly brushing up against you as you lean back to look up at the glowing, icy visor of the Marine.

Everything went quiet for a moment. Nobody moving while the you and the little Marines stared right back up at the larger Marines visor, awaiting movement from him. Watching them on what they might do as they simply stare back down at you. Almost like nothing had accrued to the Space Marine, like they were staring straight through you.

The movement on the blue Space Marines pauldron catches your attention, and Sarvak growls immediately, demanding answers from the Space Marine. Saveth slowly joining in next, not liking this intruder that smells and looks exactly like their band-mate Scarab. Could this be an Alpha Legionnaire? No way, they were never far from your gaze or you were never far from theirs, so who was this? They know you didn’t come in with a Space Marine last night, they were so sure of it. They would have smelled it; heard it too.

The big Marine cocks his helmet to the side making you freeze in your spot. The Thousand Son confused by their actions as he rumbles back down at them, confusing the little Marines in the palms of your hands more. The two looking at each other, confused as he sounded just like Scarab too. This had to be an Alpha Legionnaire, right?

“I…uhh.” You try to speak, flicking your gaze from his icy visor and the little Death Guard, worried for the little guy that made himself comfortable on the pauldron of the bigger Marine. Snoozing there without noticing anything different that happened within the last 10 to 20 minutes. “Who… exactly are you?”

That question seems to make the Marine lean back a little, a deep, confused coo coming out of him before he stiffens and looks at his gauntlets, observing himself, making the bed creak. Moving each one of his fingers individually, seemingly confused at himself, and then you blink.

Nothing, there was not a Thousand Son in front of you anymore. Just the background of your room staring right back at you while your brows furrowed up again in confusion as you no longer see the big Marine in front of you anymore. Were you imagining things? You know Thousands Sons like to do tricks with their… magic. Liked being wizards or something. Was it called Psyker? You’re going to have to reread your books.

Two squeaks of alarm get your attention below you. Your eyes quickly looking down to see what they were calling you for, briefly seeing how the Death Guard was bounced awake. His tiny form of armor face planting into the bed with another squeak while the other two quickly climb out of your hands and rush the now tiny Thousand Son.

Saveth was the fastest to get to the Thousand Son first, and throws himself at him. Small cry’s escaping the two as Saveth tries to pin down the Thousand son with his weight, both of them flaying about. Sarvak gives a snarl when he comes up to the two and grabs the Thousand Son by the gorget; throwing him into the sheets with Saveth still on top of him, a confused whine coming out of the Thousand Son. Both the Night Lord and World Eater demanding very growly answers while they keep the Thousand Son pinned down.

Wait a minute… Your brain finally sparks some logical sense. Slowly figuring out how there was a sudden Thousand Son in your bed. Your brain piecing together the familiarness of this Thousand Sons markings and rather passive and confused behavior.

This was in fact your Thousand Son: Scarab. He was just… grown up for a second there. How do you know? You really don’t, and don’t really have any other logical reasoning for it except that you just know that it’s Scarab, and Atheloca knows it too by squeaking up at you and his band-mates, confused and a bit late to the party. His gauntlets brushing himself off once he stood himself on his two feet.

“Woah, woah, woah, no need to be hostile.” You try to dislodge this situation at hand, moving forward a little bit to gently shoo Saveth and Sarvak off of very much confused Scarab. “This is Scarab, he was just somehow bigger for a moment.”

The two huff up at you, looking between you and Scarab before releasing him from their hold. Their helmets tilting in questioning at the rising Thousand Son before more curious chirps leave them, not even giving him an apologetic one. Immediately throwing out questions while Atheloca is still trying to figure out what went wrong without much evidence.

“Hold on you two, let the little blue breathe. Perhaps he doesn’t know what exactly happened to make him bigger?” You try to help out Scarab even if you or they didn’t understand you. You didn’t want him to feel too overwhelmed with everything that has gone on in the last hour now.

The two huff up at you again, bunglingly agreeing with you, loosening up their defensive stances just a bit. Knowing they will get their answers sooner or later. They want to become bigger themselves once more at a fast rate rather than having to wait on some untrustworthy apothecaries for a cure.

“Now, how was your day yesterday? I know for a fact that… last night wasn’t good, but how about you go back more into your day?” You ask the little marines and they all seem to tense in their armor and shiver at the reminder of last night. Ultimately grimacing at the sounds of pure vileness that had gone down in that nest. Yeah… they really don’t want to go through that again.

Saveth then suddenly speaks up with a squeak, all eyes going to him as he continuously chirps up at you, and not in his cute way. More like you're getting tattle-tailed on, and it certainly feels like it when the rest of them perk up and surround you on your own bed. Pointing up at you and giving wild body expressions in order to talk to you.

“Woah, hey, I have some duty’s too you know.” You definitely yourself after recognizing some of their body language of squeaking you off. Seeing how exhausted you were when you came back from work these past few weeks. “Someone’s got to pay the bills.”

Yet, they completely ignore that subject and go onto different matters that you quite can’t understand yet, but you can definitely see just how upset they were with you. With what? You have no idea, but you know you're getting a combined earful of it that may or may not have gone out your other ear. They were small, looking like angry little bunnies! How could you not ignore that!

You simply sigh down at them when they feel like they have gotten the upper hand, and swipe them up into your arms. Scarab and Saveth giving out a surprised squeak while Sarvak grumbled and Atheloca accepted it. All eventually nuzzling up against you with maybe another huff or two, maybe three.

You were lucky they like you just enough to be swayed by your tactics to get them to quiet down, but once they returned to full size? The roles are definitely going to change on you. Maybe, depending if they feel in a grateful mood or not.

“Let’s get you guys something to eat, yeah?” You mostly talk to yourself, finally shuffling off your bed, nearly taking your sheets with you while you hold the little Marines to your chest. A few tiny whirrs responding to you as you wonder if you should report this to the Apothecary or not. You honestly should, you know nothing if this sudden… transformation affected your Thousand son or not. Don’t know anything in the medical or science field of Astartes either.

You sigh again; more tiredly this time. You’re going have to think of some ways to provide more for these little marines, and a way on how to get them to the Apothecary without them catching onto you and running for the hills to test their stealth skills on you.

[sadclowncentral]

"what is your purpose in life?" to live. to continue living. i was put on this world continue the chemical dance that is our collective life that started when the first cell membranes inexplicably formed around amino acids and will continue until our inevitable extinction wether through the sun or our own pathology. and endless cycle of creating consuming and decomposing that i have been granted the delighting privilege of partaking in.

i pluck out the cherries turned from sunlight into sweetness, as the tree they hang from roots into the soil fertilized by mulch, the flowers fertilized by bees in turn, as the birds on the branches, and the microorganisms living in my body feast along with me.

and one day, either sooner or later, i will die, and the worms and bacteria and mycelium will feast on me as they do on every browning leaf and rotten fruit and fallen tree and  and any other corpse big or small and the dance of life will continue. and i will rest easy knowing i had a body that ate and moved and lived and that there was nothing more precious for me to do. what greater purpose could there be?

[daredevil-vagabond]

If you bustas slippin', it's this .50 finna do the deal [KORDHELL]

[kit-williams]

BAM! SURPRISE!

You walk into your home, the smell of your Death Guard bombarding your senses instantly, though your Death Guard is nowhere in sight. Why was his scent so strong?

Confused, you go searching for him. Staring with the living room, and then the kitchen. Yet still no sign of your Death Guard, so that left one more main option, your bedroom.

Each step toward your bedroom felt different. Smelled different. Of course, It still smelled like your average Death Guard, but it was compelling in a way. Dare one even say sweet.

Opening your bedroom door, you’re met with a very intense aroma that nearly fogs up your mind, but still, no Death Guard.

You call out to him while making your way into your very different room. Your hand picking up the fabric that surrounded your victimized bed. Was this a…nest?

Suddenly something hard presses up against your back. A deep rumble coming out of it as it sends a tingle up your spine. Looking above you, there stood your Death Guard without his helmet. His long tongue coming out to lick at you, his saliva staining your cheeks, and neck before shoving the appendage down your throat. A satisfied purr coming out of him as your mind fully clouded.

Oh, how it’s was fortunate of you to show up in the time of his need. He was on the brink of going crazy without someone to stuff, more so you. His sweet little mate.

He groaned, slowly ripping into your clothing with his hand. Barely resisting the urge to stuff you full then, and there, but he knew better.

Although, he also knew he was going to stuff you full of him. Full of his children. Full of his eggs, till you can’t move. So you can only depend on him, and only him.

Perhaps you should call in for the next month? It’s only the best after what I’m going to do to you.

tw: sex pollen? Just a bit of mind control so dubious consent for this whole thing

You blink awake... you just last remember seeing your sweet Death Guard then getting a mouthful of tongue and then... nothing. You feel sweaty... sticky... full. You look around confused as your head felt so fuzzy... you look down at the nest... that's right you remember finding your bed torn apart.

You look down at yourself as you feel panic rise in your throat as your body looks slightly swollen... you press down on your stomach and feel something inside of you. You wipe something from your mouth as you feel bile rising from your throat... you can't find your phone... what day is it?! You have a sense that it has been awhile.

You feel distress as you stand on your legs and feel yourself collapse and you feel fluids run down your legs and you feel stuff jostle inside of you. You stand up again and try to move slowly as you make it down the stairs before falling to your knees at the bottom of the stairs still feeling fluid leaking out of you. The house looks clean enough you crawl towards the kitchen but hear that deep rumble from your death guard.

There is fear and panic in your eyes as you look up at him as he cocks his head to the side seeing his little bonded out of the nest... you flail as he scoops you up as you hold your breath for as long as you can but the pressure on your jaw forces it open and you taste something oh so sweet... your eyes glaze over and you feel yourself smile as you hug your sweet death guard. His fingers rubbing your back as he coos and takes you to the new nest he made.

His brothers are so kind to make sure his human doesn't loose her home during this critical time of incubation for their children. She just looks up at him drooling with glazed eyes all happy and eager for his affections again. And who is he to deny her his affections.

@egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts

[sleepyfan-blog]

Author’s Note: This is another fic in Cedric’s Adventures in Astartes Husbandry! First. Previous. Next. Thank you to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow her OCs Zariel and Hura! Also thank you to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her OCs Arnault, Roland and Angela

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: none, ask me to tag if anything bothered you

Summary: Cedric enjoys his weighted quilt and makes thank you jam. A lot of thank you jam.

Cedric silently marveled over the beautiful quilt that Miss Angela had made for him. He ran his calloused hands over the covers, admiring the neat stitching and the high quality feel of the fabric in his hands. Reverent he picked up the blanket and wrapped it around his body, a happy purr rumbling in his chest at how warm it was. It was heavier than the quilts and blankets he had used before…

The additional pressure on his body was wonderful. It reminded him somewhat of being in a pile of sleeping Brothers, after a rough training session, or more recently after a dangerous and difficult mission. Where if they each tried to sleep in their own bunks, night terrors Would haunt them and wake the others with the flailing and noise, so sleeping in a pile together on the floor was for the best.

As the Apothecary of the squad, he had made sure to set an alarm on his vox for ten minutes before Reverie, so that he and his brothers had enough time to wake up and get properly dressed before morning mass and prayers, brought to the prayer room by one of their mentors. They'd been caught in a pile once by his mentor, and while the older Apothecary hadn't been cruel in his scolding and relatively light punishments, he had made it very clear that to be caught in a pile of brothers was to ensure a squad-wide punishment.

Cedric wanted to repay her for the kindness, as he continued to cuddle into the wonderful quilt, but what? He had limited access to materials and had none of the local currency… But there was a forest not far from the city this base was in… and he did know how to forage. It was also midsummer and there should be wild fruits and berries ripe for the picking. He would just double check that anything he picked was safe for baseline consumption first…

~

Cedric woke up with a slight sound, blinking sleepily as he yawns and stretched, rolling his neck and shoulders. He felt so safe and warm. Something soft was pressed against his cheek, so the Primaris happily nuzzled into the sensation, feeling unselfish purr once again. Why he could purr, after having arrived on Ancient Terra was one of the mysteries of the galaxy. Allegedly all Astartes had the ability to learn how to purr.

He had learned this after a sleepover with four of his fellow Primaris Marines, having woken to the sound of several rumbling sounds emanating from his sleeping Brothers… and realizing that he himself had been making the sound.

Cedric had panicked and fled to the medbay, nearly physically running into Apothecary Hura.

“Are you alright, young Cedric?” The very large Death Guard asked, peering down at him and smiling a little at him.

Cedric fidgeted, torn between his instinctual weariness of Chaos Marines and the desire to ask a question of an older and more experienced Apothecary. “I… I woke up hearing a… A strange sound and I am worrying that it is indicative of a respiratory illness. Myself and several other marines were making this sound while sleeping. The sound woke me up and I-I don’t know what it means.”

“Oh? What was the sound, Cedric?” Hura asked, looking at him more assessingly “I do not sense any of Grandfather’s Gifts bestowed upon you.”

“It… It’s a kind of rumbling sound? Like.. Kind of like a growl or a snarl, but not meant to intimidate or warn away?” Cedric explained, fidgeting a little with his hands.

“Rumbling… Oh! Can you mimic the sound for me?” Hura asked, his smile widening a little “I think I may know what it is, but if you could show me, I will be more certain.”

Cedric nodded, taking in a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to make the strange sound. It took him a couple of tries and a couple of minutes to actually make the quiet, rumbling sound. It felt low in his throat, perhaps even emanating from his chest.

Hura smiled brightly and slowly telegraphed moving one of his hands, ruffling Cedric's hair. “Yes, I know what this is. It is called purring. It is a sound we Asrartes can make. Whether we were always capable of it and only discovered it, or if it was a change within us upon our arrival on Ancient Terra has yet to be discerned. If we ever could. It is a sound of soothing. Of safety, and care. It is a good sound.” The ancient Marine began to purr as well, patting Cedric on the shoulder.

“Oh… Thank you for informing me, sir.” Cedric murmurs, ducking his head a little, embarrassed that he had panicked over a good thing.

“You don't have to call me sir, Cedric. We are both Apothecaries and I am not in charge of you. We are colleagues.” Hura hummed.

“I… Th-thank you si-Appthecary Hura. That is very generous of you.” Cedric murmured, eyes going wide.

The young Black Templar mentally shook himself out of his Reverie, realizing that he was purring to himself. Not that he was terribly surprised, given how comfortable and cozy he felt all wrapped up in this tremendously thoughtful gift. Cedric checked the time, stretched and yawned as he slowly got up, carefully folding the blanket and placing it reverently on the bed before heading off to requisitions for all the things he would need to make jam from scratch.

He also informed the front desk person that he was heading out into the forest to collect berries and expected to be gone for several hours to get the amount he needed. The front desk person- one of the baselines attached to a Salamander who lived on base was mildly surprised but wished him well on his task.

~

Cedric marveled at how beautiful Holy Terra is at this point in time. Back in M42 the atmosphere had been long burnt away to a thin, smoggy layer that didn't do much more than slowly poison anyone unfortunate enough to breathe in its unfiltered air. If there were living plants on Holy Terra, it was because they were specifically cultivated on the orders of the Lords of Terra in raised beds, tended to by specialized serfs.

He had seen wild spaces on a handful of worlds that he had visited, but he hadn't ever been able to enjoy nor explore them. Always on a mission for the emperor on the eternal Crusade that his chapter took. The concept of having time off, more than the handful of hours assigned to sleep was baffling to the young Primaris. He still struggled with the concept, though it had been introduced to him months ago, shortly after he had arrived on M3 Holy Terra.

Cedric closed his eyes as he took in deep breaths, enjoying the fresh scents of the plants, trees and nutrient fish soil beneath his feet. It was pleasantly warm, and a slight breeze was causing the leaves and branches on the trees to stir. With a small smile Cedric made his way through the forest, finding a large patch of thorny vines. The vines themselves were a light brown color with off-white thorns. The leaves grew off of thinner stems branching off the thicker vines and were a bright green with serrated edges. Many of the vines were filled with dark purple-black cluster berries, though some of them were a striking reddish color, and a few were green.

Cedric carefully plucked one of the dark berries, popping it into his mouth, a soft sound of surprise leaving him at the startlingly intense sweet-tart taste of the berries… And the slight crunch of the tiny seeds within them. These were delicious! Cedric plucked one of the redder berries and winced, as the tartness of this berry overwhelmed the sweet, meaning that it was likely unripe.

He briefly looked at the green berries before deciding that they were probably more unripe than the reddish berries, and thus left them alone. As his Bletcher’s gland hadn't started giving him extra phlegm or saliva, he knew that these berries weren't poisonous, and began collecting berries from these thorny vines.

Cedric made sure to collect the largest, darkest berries for the jam he intended on making, while also being sure not to strip any one of the bushes completely of the tasty fruit, mindful that the fauna likely fed on these berries and might suffer if he was greedy.

~

Time passed and Cedric had one ten-pound bucket filled with delicious black berries. His high healing factor had dealt with the many little cuts and nicks that he had suffered while collecting the bounty of the berries… Though his hands were partially stained with the sweet juice of the berries as some of them had burst, despite his best efforts to be gentle while collecting berries.

He returned to base and carefully followed the proper cleaning protocols for the berries, laying them out to dry as he set up the four saucepans, letting them heat up. Cedric hummed to himself as he measured out the sugar, circus juice and pectin that he would need for each batch to turn into jam. He also set up twenty-five jam jars, as if his calculations were correct, ten pounds of berries would fill twenty-five eight-ounce containers of jam. He had triple checked his math, and also set up a huge pot of water to start heating it up, so that the jam would be properly sealed.

Cedric timed putting the berries into the four sauce pans so that would have enough time between each of the pans so that the process of the jamming process to devote to each saucepan without getting flustered or worried that the others weren't getting the attention they needed when it was time.

He tasted the jam throughout the process, making sure to adjust the sweet-tart ratio for optimum taste and texture, pouring the hot jam into the glass jars and screwing the lids on tight. He then lowered the filled jam jars into the water bath to boil until the hot water caused the jam-jars to self-seal. Cedric repeated this process until all twenty-five half-pint jam-jars were properly sealed.

Cedric carefully labeled each of the jars of blackberry jam with a label and a pen, using his best handwriting in both Gothic and his best translation into the local language.

“What are you making? It smells delicious.” Apothecary Zariel asked, peering into the small kitchen that Cedric had commandeered for the day.

“Blackberry-lemon jam, sir!” Cedric answered promptly, gesturing to the still lightly steaming jars as he grabbed the basket he intended to use to carry the jam jars to Miss Angela's home. After checking to make sure it was okay to visit, first off course.

“That is. A lot of jam Cedric.” Zariel hummed, looking over the neatly stacked rows of fruit preserves. “Any particular reason why you decided to make jam?”

“Well… Miss Angela made me a weighted quilt. I thanked her for it, but it is a very nice blanket and I wanted to give something back! I also found a lot of blackberries with which to make jam! And I plan on offering thank-you jam to others as well. For helping me adapt and settle on Holy Terra.” Cedric explained, feeling a touch shy.

“That's quite thoughtful of you. I'm sure your giftees will be delighted with the jam.” The Ultramarine Apothecary responded before heading off.

~

Cedric had divided the jam jars into two separate baskets. He was fairly sure that ten jars of homemade jam was probably a reasonable thank you gift for a hand-made quilt. Hopefully…

The other fifteen he planned to give out to others. His first stop was at Ash'val's office. The Salamander was out, likely handling some of the visiting Scouts, but that didn’t put Cedric off at all. He mere placed a filled jam jar on his desk before leaving. His next stop was the base commander, who was in a meeting with several others.

Not a problem! Cedric left the jam jar on his office window sill and labeled it with his name on it before stealthily moving to the Reclusiam. He left two jam jars there. One for Chaplain Feldarim, the other for Ramiel. After that, he swung by the apothecaries’ offices, leaving a jar for Hura, Zariel and two other older apothecaries who had been kind enough to take him under their tutelage.

With seven jars left, he made sure to keep one back for Claude, Jophiel and Catius in his room, labeling their jars with their names. As expected, three jars left of the fifteen not meant for Miss Angela.

Cedric then headed over to the forges, peeking in, looking for Pyrus. He found the other business working on something and made his way over to the Salamander Scout’s assigned cubby, placing the jam jar and making sure it had the other’s name on it.

The primaris black Templar walked back to the reception area of the base when he spotted Brother Roland and happily trotted up to the older Templar, greeting him with a cheerful “Hallo sir!”

“Hello Cedric. You wouldn't happen to know why the base smells like fruit today, would you? It is distracting and I hope to get some. Blackberries go great with many kinds of brot.” Roland informed Cedric.

Ah. Oops. He had forgotten that the sweet smell would carry far, especially to throw sensitive noses of Astartes. “Ja, I do. I have been making jam today. For thank you gifts. These are for you and miss Bakerin. Both of you have been very kind to me, and I just… Thank you.” He tried to explain, pulling out two of the jars and offering them out to the other, desperately trying to ignore how awkward he was suddenly feeling.

“That's quite thoughtful of you. Danke, Cedric. My bonded and I will enjoy these very much.” Roland responded, reaching out to ruffle Cedric's short hair and then take the offered jars of jam.

“I am glad to hear that. I am going to call Arnault. I made jam for him and his bonded as well.” Cedric explained.

“I am sure they will enjoy the jam as well. Have a good day, kleiner bruder.” Roland hummed before heading further into the base.

~

Arnault (the Emperor's Champion!!) was indeed content to allow Cedric to wander up to his home when he had called, so the Primaris marine navigated his way through the bustling baseline city successfully, making his way to the pairs cozy looking home. Cedric readjusted his grip on the basket of jam jars and did his best to suppress the rising worry gnawing at his hearts and knocked on the door.

“Come on in, Cedric.” Arnault called out from within the home.

“Yes sir.” Cedric acknowledged before promptly obeying the command, carefully opening, entering and then closing the door behind him. “I have a thank you gift, for both of you. I hope you enjoy it.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Cedric! Thank you.” Angela piped up as she set down the cloth and needle she had been holding. She stood up from the couch and walked over to Cedric, taking the basket and peeking inside “what kind of jams are these?”

“Blackberry and lemon! There is a large patch of them growing in the forest nearby, so I picked some of the ripest of them and made jam. I made sure to seal the sterilized jars properly, so they will last for years if stored correctly.” Cedric explained cheerfully “You made something for me and I wanted to reciprocate. Both you and Arnault have been very kind and generous to me, and I am very grateful.”

“Danke, Cedric. I do love blackberries.” Arnault hummed “but they go bad so quickly when they are fresh. I wasn't aware that Primaris Marines were taught ration supplementation.”

“I'm not sure if all of us were. My mentor taught me how to properly can, dehydrate, pickle and make jerky of pretty much anything edible we came across while on Crusade. It's amazing how much a little bit of surprise jam will do for squad morale on a long or rough mission.” Cedric explained with a small shrug. “He said that just because we astartes can eat just about anything and survive it doesn't mean we should be sloppy about what we eat. That and keeping any baseline support staff alive is important on longer missions. The Imperium is at it's strongest when we all work together.”

“That's true enough. Come, sit down little brother and enjoy some of this jam with us.” Arnault ordered, gesturing for Cedric to come further into his home.

“Yes sir.” The young Apothecary responded, happily obeying his very cool older brother.

[haunted-xander]

Did you really think you were alive?

[objectsarebestest]

I want to talk about POSIC+ people who have developed intense fears or even phobias due to their object sentience. Because I feel like this is something that isn’t really talked about much, and I want to give support to those who experience this. Show them they aren’t alone. Shed some light on this aspect of the POSIC+ experience.

I am cynophobic, which means I have an intense fear of dogs. While I am not officially diagnosed, my current therapist has agreed that the extent of my fear is similar to that of a phobia. I wasn’t always like this. There was a time, when I was young, when I felt safe around dogs. When I even wanted a dog. God, that’s hard to imagine now. All of this changed when I was about 8 or 9, when I walked in on my grandpa’s two dogs ripping up a plushie. I think it was a bear. Or maybe a bunny. I don’t know. I had no attachment to that particular plush. But I would be lying if I said that my mind didn’t react to that scene as if it was gore. From then on, I saw every dog as a potential threat, if not to me then to my objects. Dogs featured in every nightmare I had. Dogs noticed my fear of them, and acted more aggressive towards me in return, feeding my fear. I still do not feel safe with dogs. My dream is to live in a world with no dogs, but I know that is not possible. A couple people in my life know I am afraid of dogs. But only my therapist knows why. I tell people, “Something happened with a dog when I was young” if they ask why I’m afraid. I let them assume it was an attack. I never tell them it was something they probably see as normal. They would think of me as ridiculous. Sometimes I wonder if they’re right.

An even stranger fear of mine (that I don’t think is bad enough to be considered a phobia) is that of cement mixers. My stomach just drops when I see them. Because of a book. A book I read as a tween. A kid has magical powers and gets kidnapped by an evil organization. The organization tries to force him to use his powers for their own gain. This sounds scary, but I was completely unfazed by it. But then came this next part. When the kid refuses to cooperate, the head official takes his collection of plastic army men and pours it into a cement mixer. This is when I stopped reading. I started sleeping with a nightlight again. That way I could see if evil officials wanted to break into my room and kidnap me. So I could stop them and protect my objects from the cement mixer. I still struggle to convince myself that that book is not real. I’m safe. My objects are safe. No one in my life knows how I feel about cement mixers. They would laugh in my face. Especially if they knew why.

I sometimes feel just so alone. Like no one understands these fears I have. Fears I don’t know how to get rid of, or if I have the energy to try. I want other POSIC+ people with phobias to feel less alone. You are safe here. You are safe from your fears.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Portrayal of Betrayal

Author's Note: Y'all gave me Black Templar Brain wars >:|. So I made yet another Space marine oc. Give a shout if y'all wanna use him. Also, tag me so I can read and reblog your stuff if you do. This is a long chapter. over 2k.

Summary: Ramiel has a Bad Time, almost dies, and wakes up. Traitors are to die.

Warnings: Black Templar Shenanigans, major character death, abusive relationship, abuse of power, cannon typical violence, Black Templars TM , let me know if I need to add more.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @kit-williams, @sleepyfan-blog,

Tagged Again: @sleepyfan-blog and @whorety-k

Ramiel, like many of his general of Primaris marines is highly honored, and more than a little nervous when he is informed of his assignment, he is to become a member of the Honorable Black Templar Chapter, as a proud son of Dorn, he and his battle brothers ask their Utramarine First Born Cousins what their Chapter brothers are like and listen as they are described as dutiful, loyal, proud, stubborn, and fierce warriors. One of the other Ultramarines also murmurs something about certain unsavory traits about them, and gets a glare from the first Ultramarine that had the other quiet down.

As he and the other Primaris Marines meet and settle in with their First-Born Battle Brothers of the Black Templars, at first, the elder brothers don't seem to know what to make of them, some are hostile, some are curious, and all of them are carefully watched and monitored. Ramiel has great pride that Cedric- a brother who he's been helped by, and worked with before, got chosen as an Apprentice to one of the most Important and Eldest of the Apothecary First Born Battle Brothers of the entire Black Templar legion.

Ramiel hopes that he will gain a mentor, and does his best to do his tasks, whether it is missions, or chores to help maintain their ships and other things. As months go by Ramiel’s hearts are heavily burdened as so many of his fellow Primaris Marines have fallen, in battle, due to missions that were... well, he's not one to argue against a person in authority over him. He's been beaten enough, and remembers the lessons that were given to him by the Mechanicum, and the Black Templar elder brothers are eager to maintain discipline and punish them, justly, for their wrongdoings and sins.

He's glad that he's able to get patched up by one of his fellow Primaris Apothecary brothers, at least some of the time, sometimes they are not allowed to help patch them up after a flogging or other sort of punishment, left to heal with their own regenerative powers, and rations are one of the longer-term methods of punishment they are given. So he's surprised, honored and a little hopeful and honestly, more than a little shocked, and he hopes that the God Emperor will forgive him, afraid, when one of the harsher, and much stricter Black Templar Chaplains has decided to take Ramiel on as an apprentice.

He's worried and nervous, he's not been trained as a Chaplain and he accepts the Mentorship, before nervously telling him that he's just a battle brother. Honorable Veteran Black Templar Chaplain Mephisteil Petras has chosen him in particular. The First-Born Space Marine informs him that as his mentor, he'd be teaching him how to do the tasks and duties of a Chaplain. Ramiel bows his head and accepts the honor and new duties to be assigned to him. Following after Chaplain Mephisteil two steps back and to the left as requested by his new mentor.

It's hard, learning the duties of a Chaplain, and one of the first duties that he's ordered to do is to help with the punishment of several Primaris Black Templars, to go over their sins and help them purge themselves of their shame with use of whip and words. Traitorously his lips tremble, and he's grateful that no one can see it, and he hides his flinch by heading over to grab the punishment whip. The words lodge hot, hard and heavy in his throat, which has become dry and it feels like his eyes are burning.

He has a couple of false starts before Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras snaps at him to "Stand up straight like a real Marine."

He snaps to attention and snaps a salute. "Yes Sir!"

"Now," The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras says, "Recite their sins and punishments abom- boy."

"Yes Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras," Ramiel says, thankful that his voice doesn't crack or croak. He takes in a deep breath and reads the three Primaris brothers the scroll that contained what they had done, and the punishments that they were going to be receiving and after that there is silence.

"Abmon- Boy! Get the whip." The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras demands of him.

He nods to his mentor, the Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras and grabs the whip, "Have them count out the strokes of the whip."

"Yes sir," Ramiel replies as his throat seems to constrict and it feels like it's become harder and harder to breath.

He snaps the whip a couple of times, the crack and sound of it has them all flinching minutely, but not enough that The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras does not notice and snarls at them for it. Ramiel would also be getting a flogging after this for being so slow to obey his superior officer and mentor. Ramiel mentally apologizes to his fellow Primaris brothers as he starts to whip them, the words he's been taught to tell them as the whistling sound of the whip, the sound of their flesh, and their voices counting the whip marks.

Slowly, yet all at once he as to continue to whips them at the proper pace, to slow and he will get more time added to his flogging, to fast and he will hurt them more than he should, and his punishment for not properly doling out punishment will be worse. Slowly, and all at once he has finished whipping his fellow Primaris Marines. His nerves are screaming at him. He wants to apologize for harming them, yet he locks the words behind his teeth. The punishment he gets for that, and he only did it just the once when he was ordered to Punish Cedric had been... well...

He was blessed with the regenerative powers of a Primaris Marine, which is significantly faster and he's much hardier than a First Born, much to the scowl he got from his mentor The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras. He can't even try to go find them later to apologize, for his mentor The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras has eyes on him at all times, and the punishment he got for trying to apologize after the fact, and trying to do so out of sight and eyes (not that it worked) of their First-Born brothers had also been a test of his body's healing capabilities.

Ramiel hoped that, with time, and showing his dutiful, diligence and obedience, that hopefully The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras and the other Chaplains, and other First Born Space Marines of the Black Templar Chapter would slowly start to trust them. He has seen how warm, affectionate and caring they can be towards their fellow first born space marines. But there must be something wrong with him, and his fellow Primaris Marines that they are treated so coldly and harshly. But he holds out hope that someday, somehow, some way, they will be able to have that easy trust and affection, or barring that, be good enough that they were no longer given such harsh, and swift punishments for even the smallest of infractions.

Infractions that usually their First-Born brothers do not get punishments for, or if they do, not as harshly as the Primaris Marines do. Perhaps, it is because they are so much younger and new than their elder brothers? That they want to instill good habits and proper behaviors? Oh, he so dearly hopes that's the case. His mentor The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, among a larger number of First-Born Space Marines have started to get more agitated recently over the years. He's noticed that, and while he's sent a message or two to his fellow Primaris Marines, has no idea how to bring it up or address it with The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, without offending or upsetting the other sooner.

He gets a vox call from The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, "Sir? Apprentice Chaplain Ramiel speaking."

"Abomin- Boy, come to me, I need to speak with you about something," The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras snarls at him.

He flinches, "yes sir, I'm headed to your coordinates."

Ramiel wonders what has put his elder brother and mentor into such a foul mood, and dreads what the potential answer could be. Even as he braces himself for likely more rounds of justified punishment for infractions, he did not know he had done until The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras informs him of them. He sends a message to Cedric, who's awake and on the same ship as him. Just as a warning about the mood that The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras is in.

He is sure and swift in his movements as he heads towards where The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras and several the more... irascible and mistrusting of the first-born black Templars are.

"I have arrived, The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras," He says snapping a salute.

"Abomination," The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras and his hearts sink to his chest and his throat feels like its closing, "For the crime of existence I, The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, have decided that you shall cease living."

"Bu- Mentor, H-Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras," He stutters out moving backwards a little, "I-I'm a loyal Black Templar of the Chapter... I'm not an abom-"

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off as he dodge the blow he recieved from The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, who charged him. As a Primaris Marine, they are fast, stronger, and have a higher mental processing speed. He continues to dodge and weave, not attacking back as more of the First-born Space Marines go after him. He knows that they will hit him, and they do, he is only one and they are half a dozen strong.

"Foul Abomination, thy existance will be purged and our chapter restored!" The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras roars at him.

Ramiel continues to dodge and tries to speak with him- with the other First Born Black Templar Battle brothers that are slowly trying to encircle and cut off his mode of retreat. They and The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras are starting to get past his guard and one of the systems pings a warning and sends a distress signal off to the nearest Apothecaries that he was wounded. He was starting to get far more badly wounded.

"What did I do wrong mentor? I have only ever tried to heed your words, Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, and be a good, obedient mentee," He hears a familiar voice cry out and he turns to see Cedric staring at him and the group of First-Born Marines in shock, a medic's kit in hand.

Ramiel notices The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, his mentor swerve to try and strike out at Cedric. With a burst of speed he runs and blocks the blow- unfortunately where it lands, the chainsaw sword strikes him a lethal blow as Cedric desperately grabs him Ramiel manages to murmur something to Cedric as blood spills from his lips.

"I'm sorry, sir, whatever it was that I did to deserve this, please don't take it out on my brothers." He apologizes as blood bubbles from his lips. It feels nice, paradoxically to be in the arms of one his brothers, it’s been so long since he’d been held, even if Cedric is trying to keep him upright.

He closes his eyes, as his vision grows dark, and feels blood flowing rapidly out of his wounds. He wakes up with a pained gasp and blinks. Treacherous tears are blinding his eyes as he blinks rapidly. He is alive. Ramiel, somehow, survived what had felt like a killing blow. He jolts as he tries to get up to find Cedric or The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, and the other First-Born Marines to Attack him, upon his command, of course. He pulls of his helmet and buries his face in his hands as he shakes and allows himself to feel, just for a moment or two before he scrubs is face clean of salted water and puts on his helmet as he gingerly gets up.

He looks around, a frown forming on his face, he doesn't recognize the flora and fauna of this place. As he looks up to the night sky, the stars aren't something he recognizes either with jolt of unease. He has many questions that he has no answers for. And he will need to find a way back to... back to his brothers. He ignores the way that had his body flinching and curling in on himself. Coward. He hisses at himself, he's an apprentice chaplain, honored to have been chosen by The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras.

He needs to find out where he is and how he got here and how to get back to The Sigismund. He finds a stream of fresh water, that is flowing fast enough, and after a cautious test, is clean enough to drink from and he does so gladly. The water is bitingly cold, which helps further ground him in the here and now as he ruthlessly squashes the thoughts and questions that run amok in his mind. He puts his helmet back on and continues to wander the forest, which is lovely, and filled with bird song and the rustling leaves of the trees that sway in the wind.

One of the things that Ramiel doesn't know, is that his death at the hands of the First-Born Black Templars had started the overt schism within the Black Templars, between the ones who viewed the Black Templars as Abominations to be purged, and the first born (who found them to be useful) and the Primarus Marines who didn't want to die and were not abominations against His Imperial Majesty. They had been created upon the orders of Him on Terra, created and raised on Mars for the majority of their training before The Imperial Regent in all his wisdom had decided to have them sent out to reinforce the various chapters of the Space Marine Chapters.

But that is something he doesn't know yet, simply that his mentor, The Honorable Veteran Chaplain Mephisteil Petras, had thought him something to kill. He notices movement and hides in the shadow of a massive tree when he spots three or four base line human children running around and playing in a camp site, with the adults talking to one another amiably as the kids played nearby. They looked so happy, which both soothed and hurt something inside Ramiel that he couldn't understand for some reason as he watched them, entranced.

Keeping very still and shrinking back further when he noticed some of the adults glancing his way. He doesn't think they saw him, otherwise they likely would call back the children and leave the area. One of the children notices something and shrieks with emotion, and runs towards- oh no. Oh child no! He spots a couple of Chaos Marines and growls softly. The child is not at fault for not realize that wasn't an Angel of the God Emperor, but a Scummy traitor.

He pulls his blade shifts his body and, despite his wounds Charges towards the Chaos Marines with a bellow, getting in-between the child and the Chaos Marines who swear and pull back as he growls at the Chaos marines, “Scum and Filth to be purged. You Heretics shall die by my hand! Child- run back to your parents and leave this place.”

[spectral-snippets-and-drabbles]

Schrodinger's Human: The Star Child

Halfa's aren't natural by any stretch of the imagination and they certainly were never supposed to come into existence. Yes, you could come come back as a zombie or a revenant, maybe even return as good as new or the complete opposite, but never truly return so... cleanly split.

Despite being the balance of both the living and the dead, Danny Phantom was never truly supposed to come to pass and was a happy accident, a one in an extremely rare umpteenth chance, rather than Danny Fenton dying in the unfortunate lab accident like in all the other timelines and multiverse.

Despite the truly miraculous odds of his survival, the young Halfling realized something was wrong somehow, when he awoke in the hospital. At first he thought it was because of the lab accident causing the scarring on his body and face that made people look away, but that wasn't it. It has been months and yet nobody looks his way.

Not once since the accident has his parents, sister, or his friends (or anyone, really) have looked him in the eyes. He just suspected that they must've felt guilty for getting him hurt...but then even his rouges seem to have always averted their gaze when they fight, so what gives!? Was the damage that severe? He likes to think he healed up pretty nicely with just a few prominent scars.

As Phantom, they weren't even visible! Then one day, he snapped after a particularly rough fight and demanded an answer, pinning the ghost and demanding, screaming, that they look him in his watery eyes.

"We can't! We physically can't look at you without adverting our gaze. Even the humans you call friends and family are unable to so much as look at you. We don't know why!"

It made Danny stop and think. Did...did he get a meta gene awoken from the lab accident? For his sanity, he deduces that it was some form of attention repellant power, that had to be it...right? After confronting his friends and family, they told them the same thing. At least the explanation was there. It made the pain bearable when he was around them.

Then the fight with Pariah Dark happened and everything went down hill from there (he just didn't know it yet).

It made Danny glad that the Ghost King couldn't see him properly (he stuck to the side with the eye patch) and continued his assault on the blind spots with gusto. It took a while but he eventually felled Dark and took the title of King of the Infinite Realms, much to his shock.

With the Ring of Rage and Crown in his possession, he returned to Amity Park exhausted, muttering to himself a desire before he let sleep take over.

"̸̙͐M̷̫̕a̶̯͗ỳ̸̲b̶̙͆e̵̳͋ ̸̹͆n̴̗̏ó̴͙w̸̖͂ ̵̢̀a̶̳͛ş̷̈́ ̴̡̒Ķ̵̊î̷̝n̸̻͌ĝ̷͕,̴̤̈́ ̵͓͗I̴͇͌ ̵̙͑c̸̣̀á̴̮n̷͕͝ ̴̫͐ơ̸̱r̷̮̆d̵̜͗e̷̲̊r̶̞͐ ̸̘̉g̵̖̈́h̵̝͊o̶̦̓s̷͎͂ț̷̂s̶̢̐ ̶̰̚t̵̠̐ỏ̵̺ ̷̘͋g̸̩̕o̷͉͝ ̵̣͋b̶̮͋ā̵̩c̸̨͆ǩ̵͍ ̴͙͘t̴͈͛ǫ̶͊ ̷͇̓ṱ̸̚h̴̞̀e̸̱͋ ̸͖͋R̸̲̀ë̸̪́ả̷̺l̸̙͝m̷̡͘s̶̢͒.̴̮̓.̵̤́.̸͖̈́ȁ̵̡t̸̖͂ ̵̺͐l̵̙͐e̴̢͘a̴͙͆s̶̼̔t̶̢̔ ̷̭̑ú̸͇n̸̗͗ť̷͖ǐ̷͜l̸͇̄ ̸̛̬I̶̺̾ ̶͔͂c̷̫̿a̸̟͊n̶̺̓ ̴̻͝f̶̦̒i̴̥͗ň̶̡i̸̡̊s̷̗̄h̶͖͐ ̵̝̒a̵̧̓ĺ̷̮l̷͍͐ ̶̤͠m̵̲̆y̷͎̐ ̸͙͌s̷̘͛c̵̯͋ḣ̵̖o̴͔͂o̶̫͝l̶͕͛ī̴̼n̴̝͋g̵͝ͅ ̷̨̿f̵̤͆ì̸͈r̸̥̆s̸̠̎ť̶̞,̶̧̑ ̸͈̅i̵̠͌n̴̻̉c̵̩̈́l̷̳͌ǘ̷̲d̵̟͂ĩ̸̳n̴͓͌g̴̪̈́ ̸̲̈c̸̗̿o̶̪͆l̴̤͋l̵̹͋ë̶͍́ä̸̼́g̷̼̑ủ̶̝e̷̩̿.̶͕̂.̸͈̾.̵͖͂I̴̞̽ ̵̣͘w̴̙͝i̵̯̚s̸̼̈h̸̦̉ ̸̟̓t̶̡͒h̵̨͊á̷̖t̵̛͕ ̷̨̿ĩ̴̡t̵̳̐.̷̫̄.̷͙̔.̶͎̃w̶̲͊a̶̳͝s̶̨̋ ̷̫̓t̴̜́h̵̢͌a̵̗͌ṯ̷̾.̵̠̕.̶̤́.̷͓̍ḛ̷̈́a̵̙͘s̷̭̔y̴͈͂.̵͉͂"̴̼̍

(Maybe now as King, I can order ghosts to go back to the Realms...at least until I can finish all my schooling first, including colleague...Yeah right...I wish that it...was that...easy.)

And like a true wish upon a star, it overidded all logic in the universe to the Boy King's whimsy. The ghosts left over night and all natural portals sealed themselves shut with no means to open themselves back up anytime soon.

And across the planet it vanished as well, stray pools of fermented ectoplasm, medicines that used it and even machinery powered by the stuff went missing, with the exception of the Fenton Ghost Zone Portal, that sealed it self with no means for anything to enter or exit.

The young Boy King's actions were far from subtle.

Many are now without their precious magic, Gods have llst their powers, the Speed Force had been stripped away, and Lanterns across all the emotional spectrum found themselves on their homeworlds with rings that failed to respond, their lights snuffed out. Two birds are now sound asleep, unable to open their eyes.

But before Nabu had been pulled out of his Helmet, he told his wearer one cruical message.

"The Source has been sealed away by a being powerful enough to possess all Sapient life in Multiverse, The Anti Life Equation has been unleashed."

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

The Plague Witch with the Cauldron Full of Love - 1

Behold! The Result of the art bugs I mentioned when @kit-williams did that Typhus fic with the plague witch. I actually sketched four pages from it and this is the first!

Getting this done was a Special kind of Slannesh torture plain as I had to run up against our power going out multiple times. I wanted to badly to execute on the sketches I did but the weather WOULDN'T LET ME!!!

Anyway the description of the witch from the story is what got the juices flowin. I loved the idea of a lower back mouth, and the bells. The only thing I missed was the hair, but that was more leaning into the bald reader/viewer insert I've seen in other art of that nature.

In my next renders I might add minor features here and there, but we'll see.

I decided to do two versions of the bottom pic as I loved the nurgle garden background but it Was a little busy.

Most of the process came from the color palette. Just swapping, picking, and pulling my hair out to get to a good one.

I will say this palette ended up kinda just coming to me...until I realized why I found it working...And why I felt the design needed more teeth.

Even outside the game I have no respite from...the hungry pickle dragon.

Tag List: @nitro-devil @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @egrets-not-regrets @barn-anon

Tag List: @bleedingichorhearts @angronsjewelbeetle @sleepyfan-blog

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕾𝖊𝖙 𝖁𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖞

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: What if I combined them all into one, for maximum efficiency? I blame this one, @kit-williams and this one, @barn-anon for this.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // SMUT/NSFW, NonCon and Dubcon, Baby Trapping, Drug, Yandere Themes, Death, Body Horror, Cannibalism.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter II}

Blasius slowly turns his head to the side from his crouched position. His mouth opening for a better scent thread as he sniffs the air heavily and chuffs.

So soon? He shakes his head, rising from his crouched position. Casting a shadow over the broken body below him. Such an eager little mate.

Glancing back down at the mauled body. Blasius brings forth an main appendage between his armor plates and licks the warm crimson staining his gauntlet. Savoring how rotten it tasted. Something he had almost forgotten about. How atrocious some could be, hopeless and decaying.

Something his little mate was not. Unlike this waste of flesh below him, unable to bring his little mate what she wanted. What she craved for. He can see it in her eyes, in her scent. How could this one not?

He was ignorant of course, too witless to acknowledge her effort. Too endorsed in his time running away from the nest and coming back smelling like another. His little mate was distressed when she figured out what he was doing. Yet, she still believed that he had some “good” left in him. Putting more of her dedication to prove that she was the worthy mate, when it was the other way around.

This false male was the unworthy one of breathing in the same air as his little mate. Undeserving of her attention, her love, her gifts and lingering touches of her commission of fidelity. It drove him crazy that she wasn’t paying attention to him as she poured her devotion into this male who uses her as a side trophy.

He wanted to give his little mate all that he had to offer. He wanted to return that love and attention she put on that failure of a human. He wanted to gift her all the things she found an interest in, but never acted upon it. Craving for that male to gift it to her, to acknowledge her. He wanted to provide what the male would not, could not.

It was no secret this man was a disappointment to any female that he encounters. He can hear the difference between the real and the fake moan’s his little mate does when they are coupled together or how his little mate has to take care of herself afterwards. Having yet to climax herself, but the male was also a disappointment by being infertile. Not that his little mate knows of that.

It is one of the reasons she has gotten a toy however, to sedate her ever growing desires. To finally have something to finish her off and at first, he wanted to rip the toy to shreds. Watch it decay beneath his fingertips, but he stops mid-way of finding the silicone c*ck in her closet. Realizing this singular tool has had a lot more to it than just for making his little mate climax on it.

So, he puts it back in its place where he found it. Leaving it to his little mates next use.

Blasius hums deeply as the appendix of the open body below him bursts, a quiet wheeze coming out of the mouth of the body as it splatters against his greaves. A mix of puss and blood inching down his armor to his sabatons. Another appendage coming out between his plating near his knee to clean up the mess the weak, organic body had made. 

He uses another main appendage to reach inside the cut opening in the males body, pushing underneath his sternum and ribs, providing wet sounds and a squelch each time the appendage slips underneath another rib. Reaching the top of the body’s rib cage, he digs the appendage downwards between the lungs and wraps around the windpipe and tugs. A sickening squelch-like pop sounding out. 

Pulling his appendage back to him. He wraps the rest of his appendage around the organ and lifts it up to his face, observing it. Sniffing it before he rumbles lowly in refusal. Whipping the rotten lung away with his appendage. Hearing it splat somewhere else.

That was not something he would preferably eat. Healthy organs are the better route of eating, they taste better. Saccharine even. They envelop the tongue like thick wine. Not that he found eating humans was a satisfactory, just a tasteful treat. He found far better sweets in this world to sedate his hunger than he would in his own world, but that rotted lung wouldn't give him the treat he was looking for.

Perhaps, his liver would work better? They were always far cleaner than the rest of the body’s he’s taken a snack on before. Maybe a little bitter with their alcohol consumption, but that doesn't deter him, he’s had worse before. If anything, that marinates more flavor into the organ.

Sliding his appendage between the body’s ribs and organs again. Wet sounds followed while he wraps his appendage around the liver twice. Pushing the other organs aside and over the opening of his torso and stomach. Feeling how the male's organs still pulsed with life. His dull eyes still staring up at his figure. A mule this one was.

With a particularly harsh tug, the body’s liver popped out with a sickening crack of his rips flying apart. His sternum breaking in half as bone shards littered inside and outside of the blood spewing body. The dirt drinking up the body’s lifeline like desert sands would do to water.

Blasius purrs quietly, approving of this body’s liver as he sniffs it. His mouth opening to wrap his tongue around the organ and lay it in his mouth before squeezing it with his tongue. Feeling it pop in his mouth and splatter before he chews, savoring the taste and the memory’s it came with it.

At least, the memories with his little mate in them. Ranging from how sweet his little mate was and how remarkable she was. Offering her food, her home to this male. Never blowing up on him when she clearly wanted to. Some of the many things that he hates the male for, but that was not a matter anymore.

Nurgle, and the intercourses with her. He knows he could have done way better than this male, but to envision her nude and submissive before him? His appendages began to salivate, including his mouth.

The things he would love to do to her.

Her scent wafts over him as he swallows hard. Shivering as his appendages become eager, desiring, and aching. Pushing up against his armor almost painfully. Telling him he wasn’t actually envisioning her scent of her arousal at all. This was real.

He takes a step away from the mutated body, not looking back as his appendages inside of him twitch in anticipation. Those wild packs of wolves that roam around here should eat the rest of the body up like nothing by tomorrow's dusk. Leaving absolutely no trace of him to be found.

Blasius uses his appendages to clean the rest of his armor off to temporarily relieve their eagerness to come out while he slowly follows his little mates arousal back to her nest. He knows has some time to get there before she climaxes and he must be presentable to his little mate after all. He knows how… unnerving he could look.

He hears her soft moans before he even enters into the nest. His senses heightened to seek her out through her strong arousal that begged him to fill his little mate as he inhales deeply, leaning down through the front door.

Nurgle, he is here little mate. He is here to provide. Let him provide for you.

He hears her cry out in ecstasy and that makes him move a bit faster through the house. Holding his breath as he moves swiftly between furniture. Quickly, opening the door and lean down through it to his little mates nesting spot.

The first thing he sees is her riding the false c*ck up and down into her core at a fast pace. Her skin glistening with sweat at all the effort to make herself climax. Her heated breaths staining her own skin as she moans out again, closing her eyes and throwing her head back.

He rumbles quietly and takes side steps into the grounds of his little mates nest. Watching as she chased that high. Kneeling down to the ground in front of her bed. Observing how her folds fluttered around the c*ck. Her muscles constricting around it as she cried out. Her juices leaking down the c*ck.

Yet, she doesn’t turn on the toy? Isn’t that what it was for? To fill her up her womb? Isn’t that what she wanted?

So, he turns on the toy instead, a gasp escaping his little mate as the toy pumps his c*m into her. Selection by selection, until there was nothing left in the toy.

Unfortunate, no worries. He has more to provide.

She makes a move to get up from the false c*ck, but he growls. His appendages coming out, spooking his little mate as he takes her by the hip and pushes her back down on the fake c*ck. Watching as she squirms on it, his c*m leaking around the edges from her hole and down the false c*ck.

He didn’t get drug from that questionable Ultramarine for no reason.

She whines at him, and as much as he would love to hear her cry out to him. He sticks an enthusiastic appendage down her throat. Silencing her cry’s as he shoves moves her shifting hips back down onto the false c*ck again.

Shhh, little mate. Let me take care of you. Your… partner won’t be around anytime soon to please your needs like I will. To caress your skin like I will. To protect you like I will. To provide to you like I will.

To have yours and mine procreation.

[qxuiara]

can i get a hug.................

You are going to be smothered and die from lack of oxygen. -Poppy

[padawansuggest]

Adi: *comes home from a council meeting to find her apartment overrun by padawans* Oh?? What’s this now?

Siri: We bribed Obi-Wan and Reeft to cook. They’re the only ones who can.

Adi: Would you not feel more comfortable invading your own kitchens for that?

Obi-Wan: *points at a bag* We brought our own ingredients. We can’t stay in my apartments, Master has custody of the tumor today.

Adi: *deep sigh* Obi-Wan, her name is Kara-

Obi-Wan: She woke me up to sticky fingers and spit bubbles, she’s full of germs! We can’t cook there!

Bant: Obi, she’s one.

Obi-Wan: And I’m Wan, no excuses. She’s so icky.

Quinlan: We can’t go to my place, I flooded the bathroom and it’s being fixed today.

Reeft: Mine isn’t healthy for all these pathetic humanoids.

Bant: Master is sleeping today. She had to give up Kara for a few days when I found her on a twenty-four hour research binge with a baby tearing through the cabinets.

Garen: My master keeps telling me no caff. I’m afraid she’ll take my caff away and it’s almost exam season. Master Gallia, I won’t survive that. I’ll /die/.

Adi: *deep sigh* Things were easier when my biggest worry was who’s apartment is getting smoked up most recently.

Obi-Wan: *also sighing* I remember when that used to be my apartment. It was last week.

Quinlan: I /hate/ it when that has to be yours! Jinn keeps stealing my blunts!

Obi-Wan: Yes, well, now he’s /with child/. What a whore.

Adi: *snorting, leaves them to their kitchen experiments so she can take a shower and smell less like the council chambers*

[pinkestmenace]

🥀 for whichever oc you want! :D

🥀 (Wilted Rose) - Do they have a Soul form? What would it look and act like? How much control over themselves do they have? Is it still possible to save them, or are they too far gone?

*Sweats nervously* Oh, my dear, dear anon. Beware! You have hit the jackpot of DOOM! /jk

This subject is very spoiler heavy for 'Broken Hato' and its sequel fics in my Hatoful Dreams series, so I have to tread carefully.

Does Olympea have a Soul form? Well, her future soul is certainly in a form. It may even retain some awareness. Where it is and why, how long it has been there or will continue to be there, I cannot tell you.

...Have you ever heard anyone say people die twice? First when their body goes and finally when everyone who knew them has forgotten them and passed on themselves? The Ancients are dead. The Heroes of Yore are long lost and cursed to be forgotten. Only Galacta Knight remains and his memory is not only fading after his endless imprisonment, it's also affected by the curse. But he is still alive. Wisps of his friends still linger in his memory. As long as he holds on, some of their presence may linger. Is this a blessing or a curse? And for whom? Will they go with him...or will he go with them? Where are they going?

But let's ignore all of that for a moment and think about what a Soul form normally means. A character is driven to the extreme, to the threshold of death, but their determination prevents them from giving in just yet. Their body warps and keeps fighting in a last ditch effort while their mind is already degrading. You don't come back from this. Not unscathed. Maybe you just straight up turn into paint and die (Drawcia). Maybe you return, but you're undead and keep some eldritch traits (Marx). Maybe you go to superhell, gain catholic guilt and fight the personification of your sins before becoming a questionably trustworthy salesman in another world (Magolor). Maybe you go insane and wither, with your last remaining essence joining a giant plant (Sectonia). Maybe, if you're very lucky, you finally get purified and your reincarnated form gets another chance at a better life (Void). Maybe you're even assimilated by a reaper butterfly, hold on to your will to live and steal its power for yourself, before finally letting your last remnant reunite with your counterpart (Fecto Elfilis).

Let's say some catastrophe like that happens to her, hypothetically.

[CW: loss of sentience, amalgamation, body horror, death. Features some headcanons about the physical makeup of Astrals/Puffballs and how Soul Matter affects that.]

If she had to push it beyond the limit to keep fighting it would be to save her friends. It was always her greatest Dream to be a hero and she is very determined to achieve that! ...But ironically, as her body is so stable and uniform in its makeup, it never had to make Soul Matter to glue itself back together to keep from collapsing before. Being flooded with too much of it at once means she has little control over it. It would corrupt her.

As she keeps fighting and her mind deteriorates she'd slowly be reduced to nothing but a fighting machine, mowing down her foes left and right without a care about collateral damage. Soon she wouldn't be able to distinguish between friend and foe anymore. Anything that stands against her is getting crushed. When she reaches the tipping point and only Soul is keeping her hollow shell going, her now jelly-like body would meld with her weapons and armour. What little magic her unholy cyborg body contains would only serve to make the impact of her attacks greater. Every hit of her club shakes the earth, shatters dreams and breaks the resolve of anyone nearby with its shockwave. Her previously modest finger gun morphs into a devastating laser cannon. She swings and stabs her glaive with such speed the gusts of wind and concentrated energy shoot out as cutters and slice all around.

I doubt she could be fully saved from this form, since there won't be much left to salvage of her organic body as most of it has melded with her metal armour. She would be unrecognisably, irrevocably altered. Yay? (-Ŏ⌒Ŏ- )

Oh! Why not make a little blurb while we're having fun? :)

Soul of Olympea: Shatterer of Dreams

Once a brave hero protecting the people, now corrupted, this amalgam of determination and automation has lost all reason. No longer able to distinguish friend from foe, she lashes out at everything that moves. Stop her rampage before there's nothing left to protect!

Good thing this is all just a hypothetical, right?

(I really wish I could say that I don't enjoy putting her through the wringer, but that's more of a retroactive "NOOO! What have I done to you, my girl?!" after getting attached to what was supposed to be a tragically doomed background character. Oops?)

Masterpost