#joyride to space

[randomised-madness]

i just had to share the fact that jetpack joyride has the tardis and i didnt know until a few days ago

[amfetuum9mobile3]

and we’re off

[leighsartworks216]

I Want You

Sylus x gn!Reader

For all my folks who have been told they're not good enough to be wanted by anyone

Warnings: insecurity, kissing, alcohol, swearing, crying, embarrassment, not proofread

Word Count: 1,349

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Have you ever been with anyone?”

It’s a simple question, perhaps born from your uncertainty, here and now. Standing on a moonlit balcony, dressed nicely, dinner on a candlelit table behind you, already savored. It was all Sylus’s planning, of course. When he needed to go to another country, he’d invited you to join him, as a little vacation from your own work to help him with his. When he then invited you to dinner, well, you didn’t think it would be quite this… romantic.

You both stand side by side at the balcony railing, you with half a flute of champagne and him with his own glass of wine. With your elbows on the rail, the flute hangs loosely over the freefall to the ground below. Beyond that, an entire city stretches out into the dim horizon.

You laugh humorlessly. “No. Who would want me?”

“I want you,” Sylus answers quickly.

You don’t look away from the view. Instead, you swirl the champagne around the sides of your glass. The sardonic, deprecating smile slips slowly from your face. You don’t believe him.

He sets his glass on the railing and turns fully toward you. With gentle fingers, he holds your chin and guides you to look up at him. His eyes are sharp. “I want you,” he repeats, firmer this time. His hand slides up to cup your face, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “What will it take for you to believe me?”

You divert your gaze again as you try to pull his hand from your face. “Look, you don’t have to pity me, Sy. I know I’m not desirable-”

“Not desirable?” He scoffs. “Now who ever told you that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just everyone, my entire life? I know nobody wants me, you don’t have to bullshit me on this.”

“When have you ever known me to bullshit something?”

You don’t answer, and he doesn’t let you pull his hand away. Instead, he cradles your face in both hands, chasing your gaze. “I want you. I want… your laugh when you hear me singing, and your eyes when you’re trying to get a plushie from the claw machine.”

“This isn’t funny anymore.” You set your glass down to hold both of his wrists, trying to pull your burning face from his hold so you can leave.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking, sweetheart,” he scolds lightly. “I want your smile when we go for joyrides, and your frown when the Twins are playing tricks on you.”

He leans in, tightening the space trapped between you. The night air is pushed out. It’s just him and you, and your shared breaths. He looks so intense, but not in a frightening way.

Your whole body is hot and uneasy. This still feels like an elaborate joke meant to insult you and make your faux-vacation a personal hell for you to relive every 3am for the rest of your life.

“I want your courage,” he whispers, deep voice slightly raspy at this volume. “I want your stubbornness.”

Your eyes are burning. You’re so embarrassed - you wish you could just hide under the table cloth until the end of the universe.

“I want to watch that triumphant little dance you do when you beat me in Kitty Cards. I want to hear your voice when you first wake up.”

A tear slips free. His face is blurred by the breaking dam. He brushes away each tear with his thumbs.

“I want… every little thing about you.”

You sniffle. You hold tighter to his wrists, torn between continuing to push him away and pulling him closer. He doesn’t shake you off, either way. “What about all the things you don’t want?” you ask, voice trembling and weak and utterly pathetic.

He brushes his nose against yours. Your breath stutters. “Like what?”

“My temper and my recklessness and how- how naive I can be sometimes…” You close your eyes. You can imagine any expression you want on him like this, and right now, you can just picture so perfectly the realization that would come across his face when he realizes you’re right. When he finally remembers just how insufferable and annoying you are. More tears fall as you squeeze them shut tighter. “My fat and my pickiness and-”

“All of it,” he cuts you off. “Anything you can possibly think of. Everything. I want it all.”

His tone leaves no room for argument…

But you’ve never listened to that anyway.

“Why? Why do you want… all of this? You- You can have so much more than me. So much more. Why do you want to settle for me?”

He scoffs. “I’m not settling for anything. You should know by now, kitten, I don’t go for anything less than the best.”

You sniffle again. You can’t imagine what you look like, all gross from crying. One hand finally releases your face, slipping out of your grasp. You hold onto the railing tightly in its place. Something soft and cool brushes away the tears. It’s silk; it feels just like the expensive bed sheets he has on every bed in his base.

“Will you open your eyes?” He cups your face again, the silk pressed in between his palm and your cheek. He brushes his nose more insistently against yours. “Please?”

Water sticks to your eyelashes as you force them open. Under your eyes feels raw and heavy, but your tears have dissipated enough that his face isn’t blurry. He smiles softly.

“There you are,” he whispers, fondly stroking your cheek again. “I want you. Nothing you think will ever change that. Nothing anybody else thinks will change it, either.”

“Really?”

One corner of his mouth quirks up slightly higher, becoming a smirk. “Do I need to prove it to you?”

Your face burns with more than just embarrassment now. You nod ever so slightly. This close, you can see the way his eyes darken as they glance down at your mouth. You can feel his pulse under your hand where you hold his wrist, picking up speed. You just barely hear the slight hitch in his breath as his lips brush over yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and he fully slots your lips together.

He kisses you slow and deep, holding your face firmly to keep you there, to keep you from drawing away from him. It’s insistent. He pulls away for a breath and dives back in. Each kiss is more determined and desperate than the last, until he’s breathing heavily against your mouth, tongue begging for entrance. Until your lips are swollen as you let him in. Until he finally, finally draws away, and watches with hooded eyes as the string of saliva connecting your mouths snaps.

You’re just as dazed as he is. You haven’t even opened your eyes yet, dumbly seeking out his lips again for one more kiss until your mind catches up with the quiet chuckle that fans across your face. Your chest rises and falls with passion, your cheeks are burning with desire, and you look up at him like he’s just pulled the moon down from the sky and handed it to you. He can’t resist nipping gently at your bruised lower lip. He’s glad he didn’t, when you let out a choked whine, begging for more.

“Do you believe me now, my beloved?” he rasps. The name sends shivers down your spine.

You release his wrist and reach up to hold his face. He’s all sharp cheekbones and broad shoulders, but when your fingers brush his hair, it’s impossibly soft. He’s impossibly soft right now, leaning into your touch and sighing as your fingers scrape along the fine hairs at the base of his skull. Gathering all of the courage that he admires so much, you whisper, “I think I need a bit more convincing.”

He laughs, already kissing you when he says, “It would be my pleasure.”

And, despite all the things you’ve been told all your life, you think you’re really starting to believe him.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[mythblossoms]

ember

pairing: sylus x gn!reader content: yearning, first kisses, nicknames (sweetie/sweetheart), soft sylus ;u; a/n: 'i could love you violently' person meets 'show me how to be gentle'. dedicated to the most lovely, most wonderful @deepspacenova - i hope you have the sweetest valentines day! wc: 1.2k

Accepting a late night joyride from Sylus was expected to be three things: fast, loud, and freeing. Weaving through the highlighted streets of Linkon, the deep rumble of his motorcycle reverberating in your chest, the wind whipping past you.

These nights were thrilling, laughter spilling from your lips - chest warmed. But they would always end the same, a practiced routine that you had come to know well. Being fast meant arriving home, city lights reflected in the side mirrors. Being loud left a ringing in your ears, even after he said goodnight. Being free, briefly, left a dullness in your chest as the red light of his motorcycle sped out of view. 

In the time you’ve known Sylus, something had lodged itself in the pit of your stomach. A heavy, unnamed thing, that demanded its presence be known each time you met. Desperate and raw, quickly growing claws and sharp teeth that nipped at the spaces between your ribs. A hunger that was never sated. 

So tonight, when he’s securing your helmet, gently tapping it twice, you don’t think to ask any questions. The taste of freedom still sweet on your tongue while that familiar clawing feeling prickles in your stomach. Sylus situates himself on his bike, extending a hand to you. A small gesture, an offering - a silent ‘if you’d like’ answered as you take his hand, ‘always’. 

Something was different tonight, charged in the same way the neon city lights hummed against your skin. His deep laugh, more carefree. Your arms, wrapped tighter around his waist. The winding streets that led home each passed by as Sylus chartered an unknown path, landing on some nondescript street cluttered with street vendors. The parked motorcycle quiets as Sylus pulls off his helmet - eyes shining, hair tousled. Your hand aches then, a longing to card your fingers through his hair, soaked ember orange from the overhead lights.

“Still early, sweetheart. Up for something more, entertaining?” Gently, he removes your helmet — his hands ghosting over the loose strands of your hair. And something different pulsed in your veins, the claws gripping your rib cage - teeth poised at your heart. The thud of anticipation.

“What did you have in mind?”

Sylus loved liked you in this light. Orange hues highlighting the tips of your nose, your cheekbones - just enough shadow to conceal your eyes, your smile. A hidden view, just for him, the warmth glinting across your eyes as you clinked your bottle to his. The soft murmur of other tables lost to him as you laughed again, his heart unfurling a little more. 

“Tell me a secret,” you grinned. The tips of your fingers grazed his, the slightest touch that felt accidental — but they way your eyes held his suggested something else. And he would. He would share anything, everything with you if you kept looking at him like that. Who did you see when you looked at him? In this moment, it felt like it was only him and you — two people sat in a quiet corner sharing something.

So Sylus was willing. Ready to peel back the bitter layers of his heart, offer it to you like the tenderest orange. A gentle, vulnerable thing. 

‘There are no secrets with you —  you only have to ask.” A challenge, half an orange offered but not yet reciprocated. Did you like oranges? Or did you despise their potential sourness, the bitter bite? His eyes searched for yours for an unspoken answer. 

The moment was fleeting, your cheeks tinged with the slightest of color before looking at your hands. “That’s a safe answer,” you fiddled with the label on your bottle, condensation coating your fingertips. Your movements betrayed your reply, some hidden sentiment simmering beneath your skin. 

 The offer still lingered on the table, ripe and ready. “Think you can do better, sweetheart?” Sylus hummed, crossing his arms. 

“Sure - all you have to do is ask.” You were bold, perhaps encouraged by the blend of warm light and cool shadows that wrapped around you. Mirth dancing in your eyes, the corners of your lips just turning up.

And maybe he was feeling bold, the desire to shed that bitter peel so overwhelming — because gentle things took time to reveal, and he was tired of waiting.

“Do you trust me?” Half his tender heart extended towards you, if you’d like. If you wanted.  “Yes,” you murmured — as if you were delicately wrapping fingers around the soft segments of his heart, a silent always.

The claws that once gripped at your ribcage grew frenetic. Twisting and pulling at your chest, desperate to escape the container that is your thoracic cavity.

You swallowed.

“No questions, sweetie? That’s new.” Sylus led you up another flight of stairs, the quiet building still under construction, lit only by the exterior city lights. “Aren’t you curious about where we are?” 

“I’ve known you long enough now that I’m sure it's some  new business,” you say. “Or a soon to be luxury penthouse.” 

“Am I so predictable now?” Sylus chuckles. He guides you, one hand lightly pressed to your back, out some random door. His touch is warm, stirring something inside you. “Maybe I just like the view.”

The neon lights that flew past you all night now glowed softly below you. Streaks of light weaving together to create an intricate pattern, the hum of a city brimming with anticipation. 

“The city has its own beauty,” he mused. 

“You almost sound sentimental,” you tease.

“Maybe I am,” he states. You turn to him, meeting his eyes that pour into yours — reflecting the neon glow of the city, the anticipation. His hand moved tentatively, tucking wind swept hair gently behind your ear. “Or perhaps someone brings that out in me.” 

His hand, still tentative, just barely grazing the length of your jaw. His eyes, soft and searching. “I like the view with you.” He dropped his hand then, looking back out at the skyline. “I care about you.”

He offered his heart so easily to you - tender and beating. And that thing that occupied your chest was emboldened by the proximity of something so sweet. Forcing itself up your throat, clawing at your tongue — grasping for those segments it desperately craved.

“I don’t think I can ignore how I feel about you anymore.” Gentle, certain - you stepped closer, hand placed gently on his arm. “You mean too much to me.”

He chanced a look at you, one hand coming to rest on yours - his words almost lost to the wind. “Are you sure?” A moment of vulnerability, so unguarded and raw - his eyebrows almost knit in pain.

And because you felt brave, bold — delicately embracing his heart in yours, you pulled him closer. Hands cupping his jaw and holding his gaze. “About this? Always.”  Your lips met his, slowly. Deliberately. His movements carefully matched yours, hands running up your spine. Pressing into him, his warmth - the heady scent of his cologne, you deepened the kiss. His hands moved to cradle the nape of your neck, grounding you both in this moment. And in this moment — the city lights a blur, the wind wrapping around you both, the light smile playing on his lips — you never felt so free.

[frownyalfred]

I knew Batman was a dad when I watched that JLU scene for the first time where Clark tells Bruce the JL is turning themselves in to the authorities to prove their innocence and Bruce’s “What?” was probably loud enough to hear from space.

“You want me to what?” = a tone Bruce hasn’t used since Dick crashed the Batmobile on a joyride. That man is so, so disappointed in you, Clark. And genuinely stunned that you were stupid enough to suggest this.

[tasteracha]

a/n: for @fixation-dump's request for biker bin :) thank you so much for donating to sahar's fundraiser for gaza!!! warnings: afab/fem!reader, kind of exhibitionism but there's no one there

something you didn’t realize about changbin until a few months into your relationship with him is that he loves touching you. in intimate settings you expected it, since your first interaction with him ended up in the hottest makeout you’ve ever experienced, but he’s proven that he can’t keep his hands off of you at any given point in time. 

he would stand with his hand on the small of your back while you were in line for coffee, a little possessive but you didn’t really mind. he would intertwine your pinkies while you were draped over him on his couch, a movie playing in the background as you soaked in his touch. most importantly, he would plant his gloved hand on your thigh at red lights while you were out on a ride, kneading at your flesh until he had to move his hand back to the handlebar. 

the first time he had done it, you were taken by surprise, so caught off guard that all you could do was stare at his hand through the lens of your helmet. the second time you were expecting it, and you had laid your hand on top of his, encouraging his touch. this was the third time though, and you were quickly and embarrassingly turned on by it. 

“bin,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear it over the rumbling of the engine. “can we stop somewhere?”

“stop?” he asked, a little incredulous. you weren’t heading to any specific destination, but rather taking a joyride around the backroads of town. “where?”

“anywhere,” you let your desire bleed into your voice as you hitched your hips closer to him on the seat. the slight stimulation of your panties under your skirt rubbing against your folds made you gasp. “need you.”

“fuck,” he groans, the wheels turning in his head as he realized what was going on. “okay, hold on for a minute, doll.”

you wrap your arms around his waist tight as he speeds off, ignoring that the light was still red at the empty stoplight. you tuck your head into his back and ride the waves of sensation from the bike, letting the waves of arousal pulse through you freely. he slows to a stop at an abandoned gas station, no sign of life for miles, and before you can blink he’s cut the engine and slid off the bike. 

he takes your hips and turns you until you’re sitting sideways, facing him with your legs spread out, and he kneels on the concrete and fixates on the space between your thighs. he spreads them a little further and flips your skirt up and he moans at what he sees.

“so wet already?” the look on his face is so indulgent, like a cat that just got the sweetest cream. “just from one touch?”

“it’s you,” your eyes droop as he pushes your panties to the side and dips a gloved finger into your folds. your words are already slurring together and he smiles when he notices, the bastard. he moves his hand to his mouth, teeth grasping at the pointer finger of his glove to pull them off, but you stop him with a hand to his wrist. “keep them on.”

he falters for the first time, raising an eyebrow at you when he digests this new information. his hand returns to its home between your legs and he touches you hesitantly, his actions quickening when he hears the responding moans that spill from your lips. he dips two if his fingers inside you as his thumb rubs at your clit, the soft leather of his glove feeling absolutely perfect against your slippery skin. 

you come fast and hard, almost falling backwards off the bike with the force of it; he scoops his free hand under you before you could and holds you close against him as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. he whispers praises and sweet things to you as he cleans you up as best he can before returning to his seat in front of you without taking care of his hard on - he was sweet like that, caring about your pleasure and not his own. the ride home is quiet with you draped completely against his back in order to keep your balance on the bike. he has to help you stand when he parks, your legs still jelly-like and weak, and when he removes your helmet your cheeks are flushed.

“you’ve spoiled my gloves,” he pouts, pressing a kiss to your head as he leads you inside. “how are you going to clean them up for me?”

[eldritch-spouse]

Woah hey, you just ran into a fey-

Say hello to Mooncalf !

Do not give him your name.

This not-so-little trickster has been in a deep sleep for a looong long while. It's unclear what got him to stir, perhaps the abnormal phenomena Earth is going through all of a sudden, but now that Mooncalf is wide awake, he has a lot of playtime to catch up on.

Monsters of his kind are some of the most dangerous you could ever find. Short of siadar themselves, these entities often hold far too much power for their immature attitudes. They love games and they hate to lose, to come out unscathed is to have impressive wit. Thankfully, they're quite rare.

Aligning himself with no one's values or goals, Mooncalf lives for the thrill of self-amusement. For deceit, games, music, comedy- His desires as simple and gentle as they can be dark and sadistic. The real consistency of fey like him lies in their worship of the lunar cycles, from which they claim their power is drawn from.

To catch his attention is to reveal yourself particularly unique, or simply stand out at the wrong time in the wrong place. Either way, you're assured a joyride in a pocket space that'll leave you more than a little rattled. Even if you never allow this fey to have ownership over you the proper way, Mooncalf is possessive and adamant that only he may interfere with your life's trajectory, a persistence predator more than anything else. His love for you translates into constant attempts to make your surroundings interesting and exciting, but oftentimes only result in giving you mild to severe anxiety.

Although fey are fond of disguises, many of them will have "go-to" forms, so while you see Mooncalf's bird-legged, hunched visage often, he may appear to you in other ways.

A consequence of staying asleep for as long as he has is that his magic has yet to shake off a certain inertia, which keeps his glamors static and prevent him from shifting back to his natural state. For this reason, Mooncalf avoids taking on his conventionally attractive humanoid disguise. It grows quite irritating to stay in it for prolonged periods of time, causing him to become aimlessly violent.

A non-threatening, rounded form exists to aid him in drained or unsafe states, with the intent of appealing to any perceived predator's emotions and evoking merciful urges. This form is also excellent to preserve energy as a whole. Although presumably weakened when in this state, it wouldn't be a bright idea to just punt Mooncalf against the nearest wall.

When Mooncalf is entering a rut, he will "hunt" a possible partner by using the humanoid disguise and attempting to trick someone into stepping inside a pocket space.

Well. Good luck with bird legs.

[omega-e123]

Hey! Welcome in.

Keep good vibes around here, yeah? If the content isn't your cup of tea, kindly walk towards the exit, please. There are other pockets of space that will be to your liking! Venturing further, you may come across NSFW.

If you are a minor, please do not interact with my NSFW or be inappropriate.

Feel free to talk to me in my inbox! Whether it be sending in headcanons, gushing about Shadow, or or even saying “hello”, I'm all ears. ⁂ Do note I'm not one to take "requests". (they will most likely be deleted) ⁂ Answered ask tags: #➺ inbox , #➺ anon , #➺ [user] , ➺ inbox imagines (Imagines from you guys!)

Unrelated posts tag: #• the void speaks

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ───

✧.* Reader is usually written as a Mobian in mind, but can be read as human. Gender neutral.

✨: New 🐾: Explicitly Mobian

Masterlist:

Updated: 1/16/2025

𓆩⟡𓆪 Fics

✦ ... And He Chaos Controlled Away Not the best way to reveal your affection. A Week Before || The Incident || Conclusion

✦ Just One More Craving a proper kiss from him

✦ Joyride How is he picking you up for your date?

✦ Hesitation !! NSFW !! Suggestive. You've never gone past kissing, why? Suggestive

✦ Kabedon Exactly as stated. He pins you.

✦ Head Over Heals CW: Blood Mention You injure yourself trying on air shoes.

✦ In a Rut !! NSFW !! Smut. Being part hedgehog has its.. complications. Annual complications. Odd Behavior || Restraint || Indulgence || Adoration

✦ Aftercare When it becomes to much, “Chaos” is the safe word

✦ Comforting You had a rough day and he has the remedy to make it better

✦ Medicine Cabinet Shadow has his own little pharmacy at home

✦ Aboard the Ark You got sick and Shadow decides to bring you up to his previous home.

✦ One Too Many CW: Alcohol, Drunk You partied a little too hard and now it's time to go home.

✦ The Shadow Bakery 🐾 Sometimes the basic instincts of a cat can't be beat.

✦ Trouble ✨ Face the consequences of your actions

✦ Unwombing Day ✨Despite Shadow's best efforts, nothing has gone right. Luckily you have a few things in mind

𓆩⟡𓆪 Headcanons

✫ Physical Contact

✫ Jealousy

✫ Royal Forbidden Love Lancelot!Shadow

✫ When You’re Sick

✫ The Winter Season

✫ Vampire!Shadow w/ @aelondrias

✫ Allergies

✫ Chronic headaches

✫ Trypanophobia (Fear of Needles)

✫ Shark Week

✫ Nightmare

✫ Birth Control During Rut !! NSFW !! Suggestive

✫ Perfect Present For You

✫ Misc. Anon

✫ Identification Tag ✨

✫ Post-it Notes ✨

✫ The Inhibitor Rings Stay On !! NSFW !! Suggestive ✨

𓆩⟡𓆪 Minis

𓇻 Play Wresting

𓇻 Protecting you

𓇻 Chew Toy

𓇻 Softness of Your Hands

𓇻 His Tail

𓇻 First Time Affection

𓇻 Losing you

𓇻 Blood Transfusion

𓇻 The Ultimate…

𓇻 From behind !! NSFW !! Smut 🐾

𓇻 Grinding !! NSFW !! Smut

𓇻 Anxiety Attack

𓇻 Blood test

𓇻 Love Sick

𓇻 Grooming his Chest 🐾

𓇻 Worm ✨

𓆩⟡𓆪 Misc.

⋆ Who is Shadow? Mini personality analysis ig

⋆ Scenario Submission Black Doom / Mephiles threatening Shadow they'll hurt you by @aelondrias

⋆ Reincarnation (Not ship) What if Shadow found Maria again?

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You Series Masterlist

26 Worlds, 26 ways of pleasure

All of these stories are not connected so you can jump around as you like. There will only be 26 prompts in this list, one for each letter of the alphabet.

MDNI - 18+! This entire series is explicit!

Each piece will go into deeper warning tags, please be mindful of your consumption!

♡ Yours, Layla

Main Masterlist

⋆ ˖ ⁺ ‧ ₊ ☽ ◯ ☾ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ˖ ⋆

A for Aphrodisiac (18+): ~2.2k words

✧ On a quest to save your little brother, you and your fated companion Dream of the Endless, run into a small problem in Aphrodite's Temple.

B for Breeding (18+): ~1.7k words

✧ You, Swan Maiden of the Lake become King Morpheus's favorite concubine, but it's not enough.

C for Cockwarming (18+): ~770 words

✧ You and Dream come to a compromise after you asked for some "space." It never ends well for you, does it?

D for Doggy (18+): ~2.9k words

✧ How does an Endless teach you a lesson? Maybe on your hands and knees.

E for Edging (18+): ~4k words

✧ Hell hath no pettiness like a woman ignored.

F for Face Sitting (18+): ~1.4k words

✧ You've waited for 106 years for an apology. So an apology you shall receive.

G for Grinding (18+): ~700 words

✧ Your famous last words: "until my thighs fall off"

H for Heat (18+): ~1.5k words

✧ Dream comes back victorious, helm in hand, after his duel with Lucifer but he comes back to you amidst a horrible heat.

I for Incubus (18+): ~2.9k words

✧ You suppose the deal technically went correctly, but when the incubus said he required your life force, you thought he meant... well your life.

J for Joyride (18+): ~1.6k words

✧ You meet an absolute dream boat after coming out of the theaters with your friends. He promises you the ride of your life.

K for Kleptomaniac (18+): ~1.5k words

✧ You, Lucienne, and Johanna Constantine have decided to go on a girl's trip. Therefore, Morpheus was not invited and in his desperate yearning to have you by his side again, he steals something of yours.

L for Lactation (18+): ~1.7k words

✧ Pregnant with his child and in pain, Morpheus helps release some stress.

M for Muzzle (18+)

N for Neighbor (18+)

O for Offerings (18+)

...

...

...

More to be added soon ❀❀❀

[madthetruemad]

unknown ! yandere x reader

someone from the penacony cast is a yandere for you. the problem is...you don't even know who they are or that they are the one who is trying to keep you in penacony in the first place.

Imagine that during your long awaited vacation to Penacony is going well but your vacation takes a quick turn for the worse when your small space cruiser gets high jacked by some low grade thugs who take it for a joyride and end up crashing it.

Low-n-behold, you are now stranded on Penacony with no money (you left all your credits on your cruiser for safe keeping and those thugs stole it before making their getaway after crashing) and no way of getting home.

And what's worse, your insurance refuses to pay you for your crashed ship. In other words, you're stuck. Which was how you found yourself working three jobs in Penacony and barely getting any sleep as you rushed to have the funds to afford your new found rent problems and the funds to fix your cruiser. You would buy a new one, but many repairmen have told you that it would be cheaper to fix the damn thing instead of buying a VERY overpriced new one.

And they were right. You checked the markets and those new cruisers were way too expensive for you. Even the used ones were something you couldn't afford.

So, with all hope seem to be lost, your shifts are work getting tougher, and your eyebags getting darker - you truly thought you would never be able to go back home and put this nightmare vacation behind you. That is until you meet the members of the Astral Express.

They were very good people. People who you became quick friends with. The MC was kind to you (but seemed to have a weird obsession with trashcans), March was always hyper but fun to be around, and Dan Heng (though the quiet one of the group) was nice and even offered to help you in some of your jobs.

And then came along Himeko and Welt who graciously offered you a spot on the team as a Trailblazer. You could take a ride with them and go home, or join them on their journey wherever it may lead.

Suffice to say, you enjoyed your time in befriending the Astral Express crew that you couldn't help but to join them. Your worries for money and fixing your old cruiser were long gone as a new chapter in your life started.

However, when a certain someone heard of your new found escape, they couldn't help but to seethe with a quiet rage.

They hired those thugs to wreck your vehicle so that you be stranded in Penacony. They discretely made it to where prices were to high for you to fix your cruiser or buy a new one. They made sure that you would stay forever.

And yet some no-name outsiders were getting in the way.

"No matter," they said, the shadows covering them, "this place used to be a prison after all. I'll keep you here one way or another."

[gravedwe11er]

The @keferon mecha AU texaid continues living rent-free in my head, and I just had to write more for them! It was very much unexpected, but I can't say I'm complaining. Timeline wise, it comes after the first half of part one

Cw: mostly just typical Vortex things

One day after his terrifying trip with Vortex, Felix has another encounter with the dangerous mech and a tentative accord is struck.

Felix walks out of the meeting room after three harrowing, shouting-filled hours, feeling hopeless, anxious, and more exhausted than he’s ever been before in his entire life. And what a feat that is, considering he went through medical school during an actual alien apocalypse, not to mention going on an involuntary joyride in a murderous mech just yesterday.

God dammit.

Leaning against the nearest wall, Felix puts his head in his hands and counts to ten.

He’s being reassigned – Felix Adler, newest member of the mecha pilot corps, effective immediately. Tomorrow, he’s to report to the base’s quartermaster at five am sharp, so he can get fitted for a pilot’s uniform and be shoved back into Vortex whenever the next attack comes. The thing’s longest surviving pilot he knows of lasted a whopping six weeks before bleeding out in her seat, courtesy of her severed hands – and that’s disregarding all the other injuries to mind and body he and his colleagues had to treat before her eventual death.

God fucking dammit.

Technically, he could just resign. Could always pack his bags and leave, but – the military paid for his med school. There’s a mandatory eight-year period of service or they’ll make him pay it all back, with an interest rate high enough to make even a loan shark stumble. Short of winning the lottery, there’s no way he’d be able to get his hands on that sort of money in his entire lifetime.

That aside, he wouldn’t be doing his life expectancy any favors by leaving anyway. Most hospitals these days are at least semi-mobile, which means hard cots, cold MRE’s and frequent shuffling around to various affected zones. Not to mention, as beastly as the quintessons look, they’re much smarter than any animal - meaning they’ve learned to recognize hospitals for the prime targets they are and attack accordingly.

Given his luck, he’d end up being flattened by a quint within the year, spending his last moments miserable, tired, and in more debt than gambling addict on a year-long losing streak. It’s the whole reason he fought so hard for this posting in the first place – if you’re going to be working in a medbay, might as well do so where there’s a whole hangar full of mecha to defend you when you need it.

Which leads him right back to where he started. No place to run. A likely death on the front lines, one way or another.

Well. At least the food here is warm.

With an odd numbness creeping into his fingertips, he slowly starts making his way to his quarters, only to remember- right, he doesn’t even get to keep that part of his previous life. He’s being moved in to where the other pilots live, much closer to the hangar than his previous little shoebox of a living space was. Wouldn’t want him to be late for his next date with the malicious death machine, apparently.

Turning on his heels, Felix only makes it a few more steps before something in his head just- snaps. Suddenly, the foggy emptiness of before is chased away by an angry sort of determination, and he changes course yet again, heading instead for the nearest sanitation closet. Grabbing his usual Vortex-duty cleaning supplies, he stomps his way to the hangar.

They want send him back into that thing? Fine. Fine, he’ll be command’s latest sacrificial lamb, but if he’s going to die in that cockpit, he refuses to do so while sitting in other people’s bodily fluids.

The thought buoys him for all of five minutes until he’s standing on the catwalk facing Vortex, at which all his previous bravado evaporates back into a familiar dread. A shiver passes over his skin, the cold lance of anxiety nearly freezing him in his tracks. Still, he breathes through it, forcing himself to take the final few steps needed to stand at the cockpit entrance.

His hand reaches for the opening button- which proves unnecessary, as the crimson glass immediately slides up of its own volition. Blinking, he slowly lowers his hand again.

Hm, he supposes that’s as much of an invitation as he’s going to get. Doesn’t mean he won’t be getting mauled if he goes in, but- it’s a good sign.

Last chance to back out.

“Just here to clean a bit,” he calls out into the cockpit, feeling incredibly stupid talking to empty air, before stepping cautiously inside. Nobody’s bothered to clean up since yesterday, which means the last dead pilot’s blood still stains the small space, turning the floor brown and crusty. The stale air reeks of iron and decay, mixed with the stench of bleach. The sharp, heavy gaze of Vortex’s internal cameras digs into his back, making his hair stand on ends.

All in all, not a very comforting atmosphere.

Felix flinches when the lights suddenly flicker on, bathing the cockpit in red as the screen closes behind him with a resounding click. “I’ll try to be quick about it,” he says, eyes flickering around the small space, “so please don’t-“

A flare of light from behind gives him pause, and Felix turns to find words now written across the mech’s main screen.

AW, WHY NOT STICK AROUND?

GOT SOMEWHERE MORE IMPORTANT TO BE?

Felix huffs, a bit of sharpness creeping into his words despite his racing heart. “I do, actually. Mostly because of you, if you have to know.” Getting to his knees, he puts down his cleaning bucket and starts pulling on a fresh pair of latex gloves, keeping an eye on the screen all the while.

DON’T SULK BABY, YOU KNOW YOU HAD FUN~

“Wh- fun?” he almost yells, indignant. “I don’t know what gave you that idea, but-“

YOU LIKED SEEING THEM TAKEN APART

GETTING TO DIG AROUND IN ALL THEIR SQUISHY INSIDES

Felix freezes at that, one hand halfway to the bucket, followed by a full-body flinch once he sees the next set of works that scroll across the crimson screen.

SO MUCH BETTER THAN THOSE SAD LITTLE SCRAPS IN THE LAB, YEAH?

What the- “How the hell do you know about that?” he wheezes out incredulously. While the medical team eventually found out about the incident that led to his vortex-duty punishment, he could have sworn that it hasn’t carried as far as the pilots. Then, how could he have-

WATCHED YOU ON THE CAMERAS : )

YOU FUCKING SUCK AT BEING SNEAKY, BY THE WAY

LIKE, WOW

Sitting down on the filthy floor with a grimace, Felix closes his eyes, suddenly feeling very, very tired. “Thanks. I’ve noticed,” he sighs out, giving himself a few moments to process.

Vortex is right, in a way. While the experience was mostly awful, what with him being pretty sure he would die that day, Felix has to admit that seeing the quints properly, getting even a glimpse of their physiology up close was horrifyingly fascinating. They’ve long been a mystery he wants desperately to solve, a puzzle to figure out - He wants to see them with his own eyes, to take them apart piece by piece until he knows everything there is to know.

And Vortex seems well aware of it, too, because of course he can mess with the cameras, why not. He’s known all along, apparently, and it had, what- caught his interest? Is that why he strongarmed Felix into ‘piloting’ him in the first place?

He raises his head, intending to ask about it, but his eye is caught by a new string of text across the glass before he can get the words out.

WE CAN BOTH GET WHAT WE WANT OUT OF THIS

Shelving the thought for a later date, he gives Vortex’s screen a considering look, heart racing in his chest. “I’m listening,” he says, cautious.

YOU WANNA DIG AROUND INSIDE THE SQUIDDIES

AND I WANT YOU

WIN-WIN

With a raised brow, Felix scoffs. “Right. And how do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you’re not just going to kill me the next time I put that helmet on?”

YOU DON’T

; )

God dammit. Well, he should have expected that, really.

Still, it’s something to work with. Vortex clearly wants him around, whether it be for his medical knowledge or just his entertainment value, which means that, at least for now, he wants Felix alive. There’s no guarantee he won’t change his mind in the future, and Felix is very much aware that alive is not the same as unharmed, but-

It’s a start.

He could still leave. Pack his bags, accept his dishonorable discharge and his mountain of debt, apply at the nearest hospital and never look back. He’d never have to step foot into Vortex again.

But he’d never get to see another quint up close, not unless it was seconds away from smashing him into paste. Never find out what the primary brain looks like, how the mechanical parts merge so seamlessly with alien flesh. Never get to splay one open and tear its secrets from its body, like muscle from bone.

“Alright then,” he finally answers, and fervently hopes it’s the right choice.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! More coming soon! And huge thanks to @jayden-writes and @showstopper35 for their help and support!

[immortalityforthegoddess]

𝐉𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞

Listen y'all more content about my husband okay 👌

You are a queen-

Jaegyeon na is in love with us-

You had just gotten out of a hellish meeting and were exhausted. As you stepped outside, someone shouted your name.

"{NAME}!!!"

You turned to look and saw none other than the King of Incheon, Jaegyeon Na. He quickly straightened up from where he had been leaning against his car—almost losing his balance in the process—before rushing over to you.

"Hey, {Name}, I just—"

He sounded unsure of himself, as if hoping that would be enough for you. "This isn't even Incheon. When did you get here?" But no- you still had more questions.

You cut him off with a raised hand, and he lifts an eyebrow in surprise. "Jaegyeon Na, what are you doing here? It's nearly midnight. And this isn't even Incheon," you question, exhaustion evident in your voice. Jaegyeon stares off into space, seemingly searching for an answer.

"I... I wanted to make sure you made it home okay?" he finally says, his tone laced with hesitation.

You blinked before letting out a tired sigh and walking past him "I'm not in the mood. Just leave me be—" You tried to end the conversation, but Jaegyeon Na simply couldn't understand why you didn’t want to talk to him.

"Hey, come on, let me give you a ride," he said, grabbing your shoulder and casually dangling his car keys. You had plenty of reasons to refuse.

One, it was Jaegyeon Na.

Two, he drove like a madman.

And three... it was Jaegyeon Na.

"No—I'll just take the bus—" Before you could finish, he cut you off. "Buses already stopped running at this hour—I checked." You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, annoyance and exhaustion written all over your face. Welp, there went that plan. And with your apartment too far to walk to, you were officially out of options.

"Look, I appreciate the offer, but I'll find another way home, okay? Now, please leave—"

You tried to let him down gently, but come on. It’s Jaegyeon Na. "Come on, don’t be like that," he said with a smirk, twirling his keys. "Let’s just go for a little joyride. It's way better to be in my car than walking, don’t you think?"

You were exhausted and didn’t have the energy for this back-and-forth anymore. "Fine. I'll take the stupid ride. But only to my place and nowhere else, got it?" Jaegyeon Na nodded eagerly, practically vibrating with excitement.

You hope that you won't come to regret this later

-

You have so so much regret

Not only had Jaegyeon been driving like a madman on laced sugar, but he had also passed your apartment three times now. "Jaegyeon Na, what the hell is wrong with you?" you snapped, glaring at him.

Still focused on the road—or at least, you hoped he was—he turned to you with a confused expression. "What do you mean?"

This man was definitely born to be a blond.

"What I mean is that you drive like a madman on crack and have passed my apartment complex three times now," you said, your tone dead serious.

For a moment, there was silence—then Jaegyeon burst out laughing. "What’s so damn funny?" you snapped, now more annoyed than exhausted. At this point, fatigue had completely left your body, replaced by pure frustration.

Among all his laugher you notice his cute smile- wtf? What...what are you thinking? You hate this man- right? OF COURSE-

"I know how handsome I am but don't stare too hard. Might start day dreaming." You snapped out of your thoughts to see jaegyeon still driving but his eyes on you. "What hell?- EYES on the raod, you moron!" You yell and hear him chuckle.

"OH but you can stare at me?" He replied back with a smirk on his face. You were floored- he isn't even that good looking! N-nope- just some basic blond-

"I wasn't staring! Or day dreaming!" You could hear Jaegyeon na chuchle as he pulled into your apartment's parking garage. FINALLY! You angrily gather your things as jaegyeon na gets out of the car and walks over to the passenger side.

Opening the car door with a smug smirk. "Hope you enjoy our little joyride together, let's do it." You angrily told him to go fuck himself- you most certainly did NOT enjoy the car ride with that sexy blond- NO-

As you angrily get onto the elevator you see jaegyeon na about to get in his fancy car, he looks and you and winks with a smirk before getting in and than the elevator door close-

That prick!

Once you get into your apartment you see a message you got a from a random number. When you look, it's two words.

Joy ride.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 48

part 1 | part 47 | ao3

cw: mentions of smoking/sexual activity

Chapter 11

February

For two and a half months, Steve’s life goes perfectly. He didn’t realize how far into a pit he’d fallen until Eddie showed up to help Robin and the kids lift him out, but the difference is jarring. Golden hour sunlight after catching a matinée.

Steve spends two months blinking.

He sloughs off his sadness like a snake shedding skin; spends the winter getting back to being Steve, restocks his favorite hair products and restarts his fitness routines — morning runs through the woods, afternoon pick-up games with Lucas and some of his teammates when the weather doesn’t suck. Weightlifting in the evenings because Eddie says he likes how Steve’s arms look when they get a little big, says it’s more fun to pin him down when he knows it’s just for show.

And he tries new things, too, just because Eddie likes them or because the kids think they're cool. He reads a Vonnegut novel. He eats Indian curry. He even learns a song on guitar.

...Sort of.

Eventually.

(Actually, that whole thing goes pretty horribly and takes for-fucking-ever. Eddie spends an afternoon patiently encouraging him and doing his best not to tease while Steve clumsily moves through a beginner chord progression, and then breaks down wheezing when, after the sixth attempt with no improvement, Steve puts the guitar down in a huff and threatens to demote his pinky finger from his hand if it doesn't start cooperating. Eddie laughs so hard he tips face-first into Steve's crotch, and it takes them a sticky-spitty-sweaty half hour to get back to the lesson.)

Anyway, he likes the way their lives entangle. As easy as weaving his hands through Eddie’s hair.

He gets invited to band practice; he sits in on D&D. Sometimes he watches sports with Wayne when he's got a day off, then he heads out with Eddie for long joyrides through the countryside.

Eddie blasts his metal music when they get out to the backroads, and he talks too loudly over the bass and laughs even louder and rants about nothing and smokes cigarettes while he headbangs to his favorite guitar solos — almost lights his hair on fire on more than one occasion, fucking dumbass — and he does this silly, lewd shit that makes Steve's chest just ache. Makes it clench around the word that's been burning a hole in his tongue since New Year's Eve. Eddie wags his brows and palms himself through his jeans and asks if Steve wants to take another joyride when they get home, and Steve thinks:

God, I love you.

I love you.

How could I not love you?

And really, how could he not? And how much longer can he keep not telling him so? When it feels like the word is going to burst out of his chest Alien-style any second.

When it feels like Eddie's the reason he even has a home to get to.

Slowly — so slowly, hours spent thrifting and bartering and keeping an eye out for free stuff left out on the curb, even more hours sanding and painting and caulking and sweating to death between trips to the hardware store — they redo Steve's whole trailer. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, they exorcise the haunted tin can. They make it his; they make it theirs.

Eddie injects life into every inch of the space, fills it with weird art and funky lamps and a big, comfy leather couch that he likes to bend Steve over. Comes inside him in every room when they get done working on it as a reward; gasps in Steve's ear about how he always wants to be inside him: in his home, in his body, nestled deep inside his heart. "Keep me right here, baby," he breathes as he fucks Steve against a wall, his left hand gripping Steve's chest while he fills him from behind.

It’s perfect.

It's perfect.

Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts unless Steve asks.

And then, because this godforsaken town and everyone in it are fucking cursed, one day it isn’t anymore.

—

part 49

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[capacle]

Your definitely-not-stolen spaceship

Alright, here's my submission to the One-Page RPG Jam:

Hunk o' Junk

Play as a duo of space scoundrels trying to recover "their" impounded ship.

But here's the catch: the agent asked each of you to sketch half of the ship to see if your descriptions match…

Wait, what?

That's right.

You've managed to “acquire” a shabby spaceship, but before you could even take it for a joyride, it got impounded!

Now, your beloved vessel is locked away in a government impound lot, guarded by a no-nonsense agent who’s not easily fooled.

Taking turns, you're each describing and drawing half of the ship without peeking at your partner's masterpiece, adding more details as you go.

There's a bunch of tables with ways to alter the shape of the spaceship.

As you invent outrageous tales about these parts, you must slip in some clues to let your partner know where to add the same element in their mirrored half of the drawing.

And don't make it obvious to the agent that you're trying to coordinate your stories!

After a handful of rounds, you put your sketches together for the final review.

If your drawings line up when you're done, you'll fly away in your beautiful bucket of bolts.

If not… well, it's time to get creative with Plan B!

Hunk o' Junk is a light-hearted two-player story-drawing game (with solo and 3-player variants) that I believe will get a laugh out of you!

Especially when you put your two halves of the drawing together XD

If that sounds interesting to you, check it out here!

It's on s@le until the end of the jam!

[ereardon]

Darkness [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

WC: 500

Warnings: All angst

And in the darkness, she awakened. 

Fingertips on her flesh. Lips on her throat. Sighs in her ear. 

A beg, unspoken. 

She knew what he needed. There was a secret, buried deep within the dark spaces of silence that lingered between them. It was what was unsaid as they moved in rhythm. 

And when it was over, she held him in her arms and told him she would never let go. 

Bradley was quiet, but she knew what he was thinking. 

He needed her. 

***

The first time, she tried to say all of the things that had come into her head for the two weeks that he was gone. But he returned a shell. Gone was the man who stood on top of the wooden bar and sang at the top of his lungs, pulling her up with him, grinning as they swayed to the loud piano music emanating from the corner. 

The man who returned to her was a ghost of the man she loved. 

And yet, she persevered. 

She cooked his favorite meals, rented his favorite movies, organized trips to the beach. Nothing brought back the light behind his chocolate eyes. 

But when he reached for her in the middle of the night, his limbs warm on hers, she knew that he was crawling out of a nightmare she’d never see. 

And so she held him, flesh to flesh, lips on his, eyes closed but seeing all they needed to. 

And when it was over, she held him tight and promised to never let go, and finally the tears that had been building started to flow and she knew that the man who had returned had lost a piece of himself out there in the skies. 

***

Time passed, and things changed, but still she found herself reaching for him in the darkness, even when his side of the bed was cold. And the reminder that he was out there, in the unknown, burned a hole of fear in her stomach. 

But when he returned, and his side of the mattress was warm, there was still an emptiness that surrounded the bed. 

She stopped asking what had happened. 

As the lines in his face grew deeper, and as their house filled with the sound of children’s footsteps that turned from whispers to thunder, the silence grew as a weight between their hearts. 

And in the quiet, she closed her eyes. 

In the quiet, she wondered what her life would have been like if he had never stepped foot in that jet. 

In the quiet, she contemplated leaving. 

But then flesh begot flesh, and he belonged to her again, if only for a moment. 

And in the stillness, his eyes opened. 

In the darkness, he pressed his hand to her cheek. 

In the quiet, she opened her eyes. 

And then his voice, husky and deep, penetrated the air that stood so still around them. 

He asked for forgiveness, for the way he haunted her. 

She leaned forward and tipped her forehead against his. 

She needed him, too.  

Tagging some people who may be interested:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @shanimallina87 @taytaylala12 @th3-oncoming-storm @teacupsandtopgun @djs8891 @callsign-magnolia @callsign-joyride @sio-ina-bottle @startrekfangirl2233-writes @horseshoegirl @desert-fern @blackwidownat2814

[circeius-invidioso]

I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.