:-)
YOU ARE THE REASON
trying on a metaphor
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
ojovivo

roma★
Monterey Bay Aquarium
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
d e v o n
Misplaced Lens Cap

tannertan36

Kaledo Art

Product Placement

#extradirty
Claire Keane

Discoholic 🪩

ellievsbear
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h

seen from Malaysia
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@sonofnocturne
:-)
Just popping in to remind everyone I’m not dead
Old, Weary, and Confused
Near the entrance to one of the larger caves of Nocturne, a warp portals up horizontally a few feet above the ground, drops out a rather disheveled Space Marine (who lands without much dignity), and closes just as quickly as it opened.
Dazed, Makcimus stood up to feel embraced but the suffocating heat of Nocturne, a soothing sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. His trip through the warp had not been intentional, nor was it short or enjoyable. His armor was chipped and had deep ridges in many places; his litanies and banners had bulletholes and singe marks spread along them. His face had many more scars than it had before, and to make matters worse: he had lost his weapons somewhere along the way.
Putting all the unpleasantness aside for later analysis, he dusted himself off and began walking toward the distant spires of the Salamanders Monastery.
Even though Toms armor has been beaten around for so long and he was sure it was full with enough energy, he was ready to act quickly in case the bigger male tried anything.
“And your guess is right. My name is Tomas Mattias Araiza, former Petty Officer, current combat medic and maintenance assistant of the White Berets.” He also stops his pacing, once again finding himself infront of Makc standing still.
“I was hired to be in security duty for a ship until things went south a little too quickly for my liking. I lost contact with the passengers then I got sucked into a darn rift. If my predictions are correct, the rest of my gear landed somewhere on this planet.”
And it wouldnt be hard to spot if it looked like the gear Tom currently had. One could swear that equipment should belong in a museum.
“A fellow of my own fate, indeed.”
Makc relaxed and rested his hands on his hips. The small human was clearly here accidentally, and judging off his equipment and stature, would serve no threat to his home.
That thought did lead Makc to a bit of worry, as Nocturne was one of the harshest worlds this side of the Imperium, and would eat him alive if no one intervened.
“Your equipment, if it is in the same quality as your current, will most likely end up in a market in one of the caves here. If it doesn’t melt before then. If you have any sense of survival, you’ll accompany me to safety and we can begin to defuse this mess.”
Makc stuck out in arm in the direction of the large Monastery in the distance, beckoning for Tomas to follow him. It was his duty to protect those who could not protect themselves, and the last thing he needed was a strange human to fall waste to the wildlife of Nocturne. The inquisitorial process would be a nightmare.
Old, Weary, and Confused
Near the entrance to one of the larger caves of Nocturne, a warp portals up horizontally a few feet above the ground, drops out a rather disheveled Space Marine (who lands without much dignity), and closes just as quickly as it opened.
Dazed, Makcimus stood up to feel embraced but the suffocating heat of Nocturne, a soothing sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. His trip through the warp had not been intentional, nor was it short or enjoyable. His armor was chipped and had deep ridges in many places; his litanies and banners had bulletholes and singe marks spread along them. His face had many more scars than it had before, and to make matters worse: he had lost his weapons somewhere along the way.
Putting all the unpleasantness aside for later analysis, he dusted himself off and began walking toward the distant spires of the Salamanders Monastery.
“Uhh… Non? I mean, I have been hired by them before but Im not generally afiliated to them.” The smaller man answered rather calm despise the fact two of them had guns aimed at each others center of mass. Where they even talking about the same empire?
“Who are you? And… Do you happen to know what is this place by any chance?” He asks with the same calm tone, begining to circle Mack aswell.
At the answer of non-allegiance, warp-flame began to dance between his fingers, more as a visual warning. Makc could easily liquefy the small man, but he doubted the remains would be too beneficial to the wildlife of Nocturne. Removal would be the optimal solution.
“The Imperium isn’t fond of mercenaries. So I doubt you have been hired by any Imperial lords of recent times.”
Makc ceased his pacing, peering down at Tom, red eyes not showing much intent or emotion.
“I am Makcimus the Flame-Maned, Librarian of the Salamanders 4th Company. This world is Nocturne. a death-world that my chapter and I call home. Anyone this side of the universe knows of Nocturne. so I doubt you came here by choice.”
Old, Weary, and Confused
Near the entrance to one of the larger caves of Nocturne, a warp portals up horizontally a few feet above the ground, drops out a rather disheveled Space Marine (who lands without much dignity), and closes just as quickly as it opened.
Dazed, Makcimus stood up to feel embraced but the suffocating heat of Nocturne, a soothing sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. His trip through the warp had not been intentional, nor was it short or enjoyable. His armor was chipped and had deep ridges in many places; his litanies and banners had bulletholes and singe marks spread along them. His face had many more scars than it had before, and to make matters worse: he had lost his weapons somewhere along the way.
Putting all the unpleasantness aside for later analysis, he dusted himself off and began walking toward the distant spires of the Salamanders Monastery.
In the far distance, another portal could be spotted. Another man was warped into this world most likely also unintentionally. However, he was wildly different than Makc: This person was wearing what looked like a rather light gear when it comes to armor but heavy if we take in mind a comically large backpack he had on his back. He had the resources and bullets, but the guns chambered in said ammunition were gone just like Makcs weaponry.
A somewhat visible cyan mist comes out of his various wounds before the smaller male slowly gets up. He was alive, if not exactly well.
His headpiece turns on, allowing him to detect the heartbeat rate of what seems like a racing horse. Most likely Makcs.
“…Hello?”
A jolt of pain struck through Makc’s head, notifying him of another unexpected warp experience nearby. As a natural reflex, Mack reached towards his bolt pistol to defend his homeland, and his gauntleted hand closed around an empty holster.
“Let’s hope they’re a conversationalist…”
His audio relay picked up the hesitant call, alerting him that it was a language extremely similar to Terran. His demeanor relaxed, and he dusted himself off more before approaching the sound.
In a voice that boomed through the dense air, he called out a response.
“Who has arrived here? What form are you?”
He really didnt expect an answer thus looked into his backpack for something he could use in case this meeting went south. Turns out he still had his heavy sidearm! Perfect. He checks that its loaded and aims the handcannon to the direction the others voice was heard.
A question threw him out of guard. “…Form? Erm, human I guess?” Why would anyone ask what form or race is he? He slowly steps closer to the voice. “And who are you? What… ‘form’ are you?”
“Human....”
Makc’ hulking form slowly rose above the ridge separating the two of them, foot by foot until his entire silhouette had cleared it. He looked down, several feet, to see a small man with a pistol. Makcimus squatted to be more even, his burning red eyes level with his smaller counterpart.
“And would you be of imperial descent or non?”
He stood, and began pacing around Tom, readying warp energy quietly in case he had to vanquish the visitor. Not the most preferable outcome, he thought to himself, but not the worst.
Old, Weary, and Confused
Near the entrance to one of the larger caves of Nocturne, a warp portals up horizontally a few feet above the ground, drops out a rather disheveled Space Marine (who lands without much dignity), and closes just as quickly as it opened.
Dazed, Makcimus stood up to feel embraced but the suffocating heat of Nocturne, a soothing sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. His trip through the warp had not been intentional, nor was it short or enjoyable. His armor was chipped and had deep ridges in many places; his litanies and banners had bulletholes and singe marks spread along them. His face had many more scars than it had before, and to make matters worse: he had lost his weapons somewhere along the way.
Putting all the unpleasantness aside for later analysis, he dusted himself off and began walking toward the distant spires of the Salamanders Monastery.
In the far distance, another portal could be spotted. Another man was warped into this world most likely also unintentionally. However, he was wildly different than Makc: This person was wearing what looked like a rather light gear when it comes to armor but heavy if we take in mind a comically large backpack he had on his back. He had the resources and bullets, but the guns chambered in said ammunition were gone just like Makcs weaponry.
A somewhat visible cyan mist comes out of his various wounds before the smaller male slowly gets up. He was alive, if not exactly well.
His headpiece turns on, allowing him to detect the heartbeat rate of what seems like a racing horse. Most likely Makcs.
“…Hello?”
A jolt of pain struck through Makc's head, notifying him of another unexpected warp experience nearby. As a natural reflex, Mack reached towards his bolt pistol to defend his homeland, and his gauntleted hand closed around an empty holster.
"Let's hope they're a conversationalist..."
His audio relay picked up the hesitant call, alerting him that it was a language extremely similar to Terran. His demeanor relaxed, and he dusted himself off more before approaching the sound.
In a voice that boomed through the dense air, he called out a response.
"Who has arrived here? What form are you?"
*Nearby robot noises*
Makc raised his brow at the odd noises, but put them off as affects of his disorientation from the warp.
(I’m so sorry this has been sitting for so long)
Old, Weary, and Confused
Near the entrance to one of the larger caves of Nocturne, a warp portals up horizontally a few feet above the ground, drops out a rather disheveled Space Marine (who lands without much dignity), and closes just as quickly as it opened.
Dazed, Makcimus stood up to feel embraced but the suffocating heat of Nocturne, a soothing sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. His trip through the warp had not been intentional, nor was it short or enjoyable. His armor was chipped and had deep ridges in many places; his litanies and banners had bulletholes and singe marks spread along them. His face had many more scars than it had before, and to make matters worse: he had lost his weapons somewhere along the way.
Putting all the unpleasantness aside for later analysis, he dusted himself off and began walking toward the distant spires of the Salamanders Monastery.
I miss seeing you on my dash!
Perhaps you’ll be seeing more of me...
reblog if your family has a plastic bag with plastic bags inside
Does anyone else remember that 200+ note post I had where everyone was arguing about the Emperor’s race?
Funny shit that was
i swear to god some people actually think guys don’t compliment each other without saying no-homo??? do people think guys don’t go out and hang out together just for shits and giggles? do they actually think guys are so insecure with there sexuality?
do people ACTUALLY think that?
i remember being in the locker room in high school and shit was like a half naked party you had fuckers slappin each others asses you had people doing RKO’s on each other (i shit you not RKO’s did happen) you had blokes sayin shit like “nice abs man” or “man your workouts doin wonders” (actually had this said to me once by a guy i only had one class with.
ffs femininity so fragile you gotta stereotype to make yourself feel better
God that reminds me of something I heard once when changing in the locker room. A guy complimented another dude’s dick. He literaly said, “Wow dude, you got yourself a nice dick.” and the other guy said “Thanks man.”
i don’t think a lot of women realize that when there are no women around guys are much more comfortable with themselves. We don’t make comics about it and post online about how great our group of males friends are and we don’t talk about it too much but it happens especially within a group of guys you know super well.
but because all a lot of women see is the ‘no-homo’ dude-bro’s they just base guys on the dude-bro stereotype that gets circulated into pop culture.
I’ve never even heard or genuinely said no-homo, it’s always been ironic. I always thought the no-homo thing was just an exaggerated internet thing, to go along with the super-dude-bro-man-dude jokes. Lol,
I’ve complimented and been complimented on most parts of the male body by other dudes.
Happy Halloween Everyone!
Just anothe update that I’m not dead, only busy ^-^
her hair and lips change to the color of your blog
i just wanna see it
oh my god this looks so sick on my blog
DEAR GOD MINE TO!
Sorry, I had to see this.
YO! It looks amazing on mobile!!!………😔
I just wanna see it i dont even like this movie
I feel like I’ve become a memory to most people
I’ll probably just let it be. I don’t do shit on here anymore I ‘spose. Good times are over for this blog I do believe.
I feel like I’ve become a memory to most people
So I log on today and...
Umm.... uh ok....
WHY JUST FUCKING WHY
I HATE FEET