#40k short stories

[sepulcher666]

AHHHHH

You CANT END IT LIKE THISSSS NOOOO

my heart….

I am definitely drawing this when I get the chance

[thestuffedalligator]

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

[potpourrifandoms]

I drew more fanart of 'Voice of Experience' because it's canon that Kartyr's XR-0 drone is named Zero. It's true, the author told me.

No, really. The author told me!

So a while back, I posted some fanart of my favourite Warhammer 40k story, 'Voice of Experience', here on Tumblr and also on Reddit, and the author of the story saw it and liked it??? And also, now I have an extra bit of lore that I can draw??? AMAZING!! I want more of these characters soooooo badly 😭

[thebetterdevil0]

When Angels Cry

3,000 words. A short story about a Blood Angel, and his brother who has fallen to the Black Rage.

My first time writing something like this. Please enjoy.

=================

Sergeant Marneo was well built, even for a Primaris Marine. The Blood Angel was already a tall boy before the surgeries, and he emerged from them even taller. His brother Hadrian had joked with him that the apothecaries had switched Sanguinius’s gene seed for Vulkan’s during his surgeries. He was less than receptive to these jests. As Hadrian placed his hand on the console to open the door, he remembered those joking moments fondly.

Whatever jokes Hadrian may have made before, they were quickly put to bed by the sight that lay before him. His former Sergeant was chained to a wall at the far end of the room. Needles and tubes filled with various fluids and pharmaceuticals probed his skin in numerous places along his chest, upper arms, and thighs. Marneo appeared to be in a state of delirium, but the burning black eyes that stared at Hadrian betrayed that conception. What stared at Hadrian were not the eyes of some washed out drunkard, or half asleep vagrant, but the eyes of a killer overcome by rage.

As the door closed behind him, Hadrian slowly removed his helmet, and mag locked it to his side. The sound of the armor clicking into place caused Marneo to stir. His head rolled upwards, and his eyes narrowed at Hadrian. He said but one word, filled with malice and hatred. “Brother.”

Hadrian felt his hearts sink upon hearing the hatred in the word. “Hello Brother. How are you feeling today?”

Marneo lurched forward from the wall in an attempt to claw at Hadrian. He was held back by the chains and various needles holding him back. “Why do you care Traitor? Why do you continue to torment me with these visits?”

Marneo seemed to relax in the chains, but the black orbs of hate in his skull remained fixed on Hadrian. Hadrian reached into his back pocket and produced a small, orange fruit. “I brought you something brother. Mangoes. From our home world. Chauntea. Do you remember it brother?”

The scent of the fruit worked it’s way into the air toward Marneo. The scent only seemed to enrage him. “I remember we ate these together before you betrayed our father. Before you led your Black Legion against him.”

Hadrian was disappointed by this response, but he remained determined to get through to him. “Would you like a mango brother? It will help you feel like yourself again.”

Marneo’s face tightened. “Is it poisoned? I would expect nothing less of you traitor. Now I ask again, why are you here?”

Hadrian’s hearts sank further. Still he refused to accept the truth. “I’m here to bring you good news brother. I’ve been promoted. I have your job now brother.”

Hadrian tried to force a smile onto his face. Marneo thrashed angrily in his chains in response. “TRAITOR! YOU DON’T DESERVE THE GROUND YOU STAND ON HORUS! NOW GET OVER HERE AND FACE ME!”

The stone door opened again. The figure of a Blood Angels Chaplain stood in the doorway. The Chaplain called forward for Hadrian. “He is gone brother Hadrian. He belongs to the Death Company now.”

Sergeant Hadrian hung his head low in defeat. He put the mango back in his satchel and turned to leave. Marneo’s continued thrashing and screaming echoed through the room as the door closed once more. Outside, the Chaplain pressed a button on the door console. A warning klaxon sounded inside the cell, followed by a rush of pharmaceuticals flooding into Marneo’s body. The anger drained from his eyes as the drugs worked their way through him. He slumped back against the wall, propped up by his bindings as he entered a deep sleep. “Brother… why…”

=================

Lieutenant Hadrian Antinous of Wyvern Squad entered his brothers cell once again. It had been many years since he had seen his brother Marneo, and he was eager to deliver the good news to him. A small part of him hoped that Marneo would have come to his senses by now, that he would take Hadrian in his arms and cry out in joy at his brothers success. The rest of him knew this to be a farce.

Marneo was chained to the wall, in the exact way he had been when Hadrian left him. Marneo was fully awake upon entry this time. He made no effort to acknowledge Hadrian's presence. Just like before, Hadrian removed his helmet and hung it at his side. A faint smile adorned his lips as he spoke to his brother. “Brother Marneo, it is good to speak with you again.”

Marneo looked up at him, but made no effort to speak. Hadrian continued. “I’m a lieutenant now brother. We fought a mighty battle against the Orks on Madrigal. We killed so many my armor was green rather than red when we were finished!”

Hadrian forced a short laugh, hoping for his brother to respond. A glance. A movement. A word. Anything. His apparent lack of aggression gave Hadrian hope. Hope that maybe the Rage had left his brother. Maybe he had been cured. Maybe he had been saved. Maybe the Sanguinor-

“SHUT UP TRAITOR!”

Marneo lunged at Hadrian from his position on the floor. Once more, the chains and needles kept him from attacking his brother. In the rattling of chains and the screams of his brother, Hadrian heard the sound of his hope shattering. He watched on in despair as his brother continued screaming at him. “YOU BETRAYED ME! YOU BETRAYED OUR FATHER! YOU BETRAYED THE IMPERIUM! WHY HORUS? WHY?”

Hadrian hung his head low. He removed his helmet from it’s mag lock at his side, and placed it on his head. His HUD blinked back to life, displaying readouts of Marneo’s physical condition. Several warning klaxons blared at him pointing to elevated hormone levels in line with the Black Rage. He felt a tear well up in his eye as he turned to leave. Marneo called out after him. “YOU SCORN ME HORUS! GET BACK HERE AND FIGHT!”

Hadrian wheeled around, his hearts pounded in his chest, anger flowed in his veins, the Thirst flared in his mind as he spoke. “I AM NOT HORUS, BROTHER! I AM HADRIAN! I AM YOUR BROTHER! YOUR… friend…”

He took a deep breath to pull his emotions back under control. He felt his Angel’s Teeth had been stirred from his gums, and he forced them to retract. “Goodbye brother.”

He knocked on the stone door three times. The door grinded open slowly. He turned to look at his brother one last time before leaving. Marneo continued screaming after him, until the warning klaxons in the cell blared again, and once more he was sedated.

===============

Captain Hadrian Antinous of the Blood Angels Third Company was a sight to behold. His armor gleamed from a fresh coat of polish put on by his serfs, while numerous trophies and embellishments decorated his Gravis pattern Primaris armor. His helmet kept his face hidden as he stomped through the deck of the ship. Chaplain Relus followed him closely, listening to every word he spoke. “I want them ready to move by the end of the next planetary rotation.”

Relus stroked the head of his crozius staff and nodded. “Will you speak to… him, before deployment brother Captain?”

Hadrian froze. He hadn’t even considered that. He had been too wrapped up in the battle preparations to remember. “I-”

He felt a tear welling in his eye. He took a breath and tried to force it down. Relus looked at him quizzically.

“Brother Captain?”

“Yes. Yes brother Chaplain. I will speak with him.

Relus had his own reservations about his Captain’s decision, but the sound of thundering guns outside reminded him there were more pressing problems at hand. “Very well. I will leave you undisturbed.”

Hadrian continued down the hall to the cell of his former sergeant. The Death Company had already been deployed three times before Hadrian had been made a Captain, and each time Marneo had survived mostly unscathed. Protocol would have dictated his immediate execution, but Chaplain Relus felt he could still be of use to the Emperor, and so he was allowed to live. As Hadrian approached the cell, he had a feeling in his gut that this would be Marneo’s final stand. As he punched the authorization codes into the door console, memories replayed in his mind of their time together. Joyfully stealing mangos from their neighbor on Chauntea, playing various games together with their other brothers in training, fighting together on Talos III where Marneo was lost to the Rage…

Hadrian blinked that last memory away as soon as it appeared. In time for the stone door to grind open once more, for what Hadrian hoped would be the third and final time. He stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind him. He did not intend to stay long this time.

Marneo again, was already awake. This time instead of being chained to the wall nude, he was fully armored in the black battleplate of the Death Company. He lunged for Hadrian the moment he entered the room. The eve of battle always stirred the thirst of the Blood Angels, and the Death Company was no different. Marneo’s eyes screamed with intense fury, scanning the room for any possible threat. The only threat he could identify was Hadrian, so he focused on him. Gnashing his teeth and pulling on his restraints. “WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE ARE THE TRAITORS?”

Hadrian smiled under the helmet. Part of him was glad he wasn’t the target of Marneo’s fury for once. “They will be here soon brother Sergeant. You will have your revenge.”

Marneo threw his head back and roared. “BRING ME THE TRAITORS! BRING ME HORUS! I WILL TEAR HIM LIMB FROM LIMB!”

Hadrian stepped closer to Marneo. He reached into his satchel and produced a small, orange fruit. He had pocketed the mango from the mess hall earlier, intending to eat it while in his quarters, preparing for battle. Instead, he held it up in front of his brother. “Would you like a mango brother? It will help you keep up your strength. You will need it if you are to emerge victorious against the traitors.”

Marneo snarled as the scent of the fruit worked it’s way into his nose. He breathed it in deep. Hadrian thought he saw the Rage flicker in his eyes for a moment. After a moment of deliberation, Marneo leaned his head forward, and took a bite of the fruit. Hadrian continued to hold it for him, as if he were feeding a large animal. Soon, only the pit of the fruit was left. Hadrian placed it in his satchel to dispose of later. “How do you feel brother?”

The Rage returned in full force as he struggled against the chains. “I feel like tearing off Horus’s head and presenting it to Father stuffed!”

Hadrian removed his helmet and held it under his arm. He held his brothers gaze for a moment. The thought of what was to come returned to his mind, and his head drooped. “Brother… I know you do not remember me anymore, I know you do not remember the things we did together, but I want you to know I am proud to have fought at your side, and I am eager to see you fight once more.”

Hadrian turned to leave, placing his helmet back on his head. He was about to exit the room, when he heard a voice. “I am proud of you too.”

Hadrian paused. The words came from Marneo, but they did not belong to him. He suddenly felt his blood slow. The Red Thirst had been dancing in him as he awaited the coming battle, but now it fell completely silent. He felt a uniquely divine presence radiating from behind him. He wanted to turn around, to face whatever was there behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He felt as if he was frozen in place.

“Your brother cannot say it, but he is as proud of you as I am, my son.”

Those final two words finally snapped Hadrian out of his stupor, and he wheeled around to face whatever was behind him. What he saw defied all logic. Throughout the halls of the Blood Angels ships and fortresses, there were countless paintings of Sanguinius. His golden blonde hair flowing magnificently from his head while pristinely white wings carried him across the battlefield. The face of his dead Primarch was well known to all Blood Angels for this reason. Standing before him was that same divine visage. The form of Sanguinius appeared to hover over Marneo, emanating divine power and grace. In one hand he held a mighty golden sword, and in the other a golden chalice filled with blood. Hadrian’s jaw dropped open as his armor’s sensor suite failed to identify what was happening. “F-father?”

Sanguinius’s mouth did not move when he spoke. His words came from Marneo’s mouth, as Hadrian looked on in awe. “You care deeply for your brother. You care for your Chapter. You care for the Imperium. You are the heart of your Chapter, Captain Hadrian Antinous. You are the swift hand which will guide them to victory this day, and beyond.”

Hadrian fell to his knees. No amount of effort from him could stem the tide of tears streaming from his eyes. A direct vox line from Chaplain Relus opened on his HUD. The Chaplain’s barrage of inquiries and commands were ignored by Hadrian, still too enraptured by the sight before him.

Sanguinius’s face remained stoic throughout the whole exchange. He turned his head to the side and raised the chalice. Blood overflowed from the chalice and spilled onto Marneo, coating his black armor in red. Hadrian watched his brother bathe in the blood flowing from his Father’s chalice, before a hand on his shoulder pulled him back to reality.

“BROTHER HADRIAN! DO YOU HEAR ME?”

Hadrian snapped his head to attention and launched off the floor into a battle stance, the Red Thirst suddenly pounding in his veins. Chaplain Relus yanked his hand from his shoulder in surprise as Hadrian scanned the room for threats. He turned back to look at Sanguinnius, and saw he was now gone. Marneo was no longer covered in blood either, and he was back to screaming and thrashing angrily, demanding to be loosed upon Horus and his legions.

Hadrian took a deep breath and focused on quelling the Thirst within.

“Hadrian?”

Relus’s tone was marked with a single shred of worry, something he often did well to hide. Hadrian rolled his shoulders and took another breath. “I am fine, brother Chaplain.”

“Brother Captain I must insist on-”

“I said I am fine!”

Relus sensed the hostility in his words and decided to back off. Hadrian looked back to Marneo’s screaming, thrashing form, and finally closed the door to his cell. “Continue your preparations brother. I will check in with you before we deploy.”

He did not wait for Relus’s response before leaving. The tears streaming down his face persisted for several minutes before he finally reigned himself in.

=================

“Are they dead? All of them?”

“Yes brother. All of them.”

Hadrian’s battleplate had sustained significant damage in the battle against the Necrons of this world. He was missing a pauldron, and his breastplate was in pieces. Saying nothing of his various trophies and embellishments which had been destroyed in the fight. Chaplain Relus finished reading off the Death Company battle report, while Hadrian listened attentively. “…Brother Marneo died gloriously. He tried to fight an Overlord by himself and nearly won. He died in the battle, but his efforts weekend the beast enough for one of our tanks to land a scorching final blow.”

Hadrian nodded curtly. “Thank you, brother Chaplain. You are dismissed.”

Relus saluted Hadrian, and both men left the war room. Hadrian returned to his chambers, and called in his serfs to begin the rites of unarmouring. As he waited for them to arrive, he realized one of his side pouches was still intact, and that it had something inside it. He reached into the pouch and fished out a small seed, with bits of orange still stuck to it. The mango pit. He had forgot to throw it out before the battle.

His serfs entered the room, and hastily began preparations for the rites of unarmouring. One of them noticed the seed in his hand and approached him. “My lord, do you wish me to dispose of this?”

Hadrian looked to the serf, then back to the seed. “No. Have it cast in amber and hung on my breastplate. This will serve as a replacement for the many trophies I have lost.”

The serf bowed and took the seed from him. Hadrian watched him leave, before stepping up to allow the remaining to serfs to begin. As the armor was stripped from his body, and the glove underneath was unfastened and removed, he felt the weight of his sorrows lifting from him for but a moment. While he waited for his serfs to fetch him proper clothing, he stood at the viewport in his quarters, gazing into space. The Cicadrix Maledictum would be coming into view soon, and he would need to close his window. For now, he simply took in the sight of the endless stars, and the ships that danced through them. Picturing his fallen brother, dancing somewhere amongst those stars.

[widowsresolve]

Anchor Points

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen

Summary:

For one glorious, gravity-defying moment, Clint felt like he was flying as he jumped from the swing. It made him feel like he could do anything. It made him feel fearless and untouchable. He needed more of that in his life. -- The journey of Clint's life from a boy wishing for a better life in Waverly, Iowa to the man who becomes an Avenger and the relationships that helped to make him who he is.

It's posting day for the fic I wasn't sure I was ever going to actually write until I saw about @clintbartoncelebrationbash and decided to just go for it! This is in many ways the backstory I wish we could've gotten from what little we got on screen and is shockingly canon compliant from me while being the divorce fic I've admittedly wanted to try my hand at for a while.

Also, I got to coordinate with ivvic on a beautiful art piece for this fic, go check that out with the story! :)

[aethira]

An attempt at a design for Inquisitor Valeria, though knowing how this usually goes, I’m sure I’ll end up changing things in future drawings hsgdjgdj

Thank you to @inquisitor-gayfax for outfit advice/ideas!

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕾𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖔

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉/𝕴𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @thevoidscreams(Especially you.)

TW // SMUT/NSFW, Language.

Imagine getting lured into a heated session with Solor. His gauntlet wrapping around your neck; applying light pressure to it if you so much as moved from him.

His fast, but deep pace leaving you breathless underneath him. Mewling up at to him as you’re pinned underneath him, stuck to him.

However, you can’t feel how he suddenly shifts around inside of you; how his c*ck becomes different than what Solors would feel like, but you definitely can feel the absolute mind blowing pleasure it gives you. Sending you right over the edge just as he tips your head back. Your dazed, blissed out eyes looking out at the rapidly approaching blue visor glowing outside of the window as the “Solor” above you leans down and rumbles teasingly in your ear. Grinding up into you, taking his sweet time.

You can feel how this “Solor” feels up your womb when your f*cked out brain just barely realizes.

It wasn’t Solor you were making love to, but it someone else.

Suffer with that information, little Anons.

[zalmoxis-the-great]

Love in full bloom ! - Short story - Orizyn

Trazyn was lying there motionless for the third month in a row. Attention is still fully focused on observing the future La'rua, the forming Tau Fire Warriors team, training under the vigilant, eye of an experienced Shas'Ui.

‘Orikan, I swear on the Galleries, if you get spotted and ruin this for me, I will put you in a tesseract labyrinth next to my Death Guards' attacks strategies displays’, he received from the unmoving overlord.

Orikan flicked his tail, curiosity replacing the anger at the rude, and frankly, disgusting remark.

His divinations found the archivist on a planet next to a battlefield Imotekh was heading to. The astromancer decided to bail on the mandatory activity the Stormlord was dragging him to, by summoning his right to the ancient feud, and rushing off course, before his phaeron decided to use his hekatic power to revoke it.

He found the overlord, covered with field emitters, witnessing what looked like every step of future Fire warrior's training.

Rather than going back to join his dynasty’s fight, a pointless endeavor, We would win this engagement, regardless of my presence. He decided to observe the observer before he deemed that enough time had passed for him to return to his proper studies, without invoking Imotekh’s wrath.

‘They need another full Tau'cyr of training before the commander will no longer call them Shas’Saal, but Shas’La.’ Trazyn explained after another month. ‘I intend to capture the engramatic recording of the whole process. It’s beautiful isn’t it, them growing into their destiny?’.

Orikan moved his focus from the Tau to Trazyn.

The tropical weather on this planet was in its rainy season, with violent winds blowing water droplets everywhere. The emitters did little to protect Trazyn from the elements, and being completely motionless meant he endured the impromptu showers.

What was spectacular was the tiny dust or earth particles carried by the droplets, that, drop by drop, deposited the debris and dead plant matter into every crevice and nook on the archivist’s carapace.

Normally, mud or dirt would be cleaned by scarabs, but Trazyn was in an undercover mission, and dared not bring anything to be read by a passing scan. He looked like a muddy statue.

After another four months of sitting still, small orchid seeds seem to have found their way to those little dirt patches, and the warm, and humid weather allowed the epiphyte plant to grow there.

First, the little white air roots appeared, hugging the living metal, like silver jewelry, and after that a stem appeared.

For the last 3 days all the plants on Trazyn were in full bloom.

Some of them, blossoming with an insane amount of tiny white flowers, that hung heavy from Trazyn’s left arm, covering it like an exotic pelt.

On his torso, the orchids decided to grow horizontally, with beautiful blue flowers, deeper than the archivist's turquoise but similar enough that Orikan could imagine they grew from his necrodermis.

His cape and legs, as the archivist was kneeling to stay low enough to observe, were covered by plants with thick massive leaves, that covered him and gave the impression that Trazyn was sprouting from the earth itself. At first, a few rare red flowers popped up sporadically on his legs and rear, but the closer they were in proximity to the sun, they more they started multiplying. The top of Trazyn's hood looked like it was on fire with these bright red blossoms.

Orikan looked at his deathmask, endlessly fascinated by the yellow flowers, that managed to sneak into his hollowed cheeks and mouth, blooming upwards on their stems so that it looked like Trazyn was wearing a heavy crown made of gold, a noble regal scholar, and an academic so in love with his studies that he became part of it.

‘I agree’, he replied, looking at his colleague.

[marlonbrandto]

THE MAYNOS GAMBIT | 4

The interior of the vault is massive! As the Hammerhead and battlesuit escort glide down to the surface of the vault, Aun’Shar stares out the viewport to see what looks like the surface of another planet spanning all the way to a new horizon. D’tano squints at the onboard computer, “this cavern goes on for at least as far as the Hammerhead’s scanners, could cover the whole planet.” Aun’Shar marvels at the fast approaching ground, dotted with old dilapidated skyscrapers and crumbling statues, “a planet within a a planet, the Calamity Equation could be anywhere!” The door of the gunship hisses open.

1. The statues in the distance crack and come to life, four Nemesis Dreadknights flourish their swords. Ancient gears clatter against each other as the Grey Knights resume their watch, rushing the Cadre

2. A hail of psionically propelled shells pepper the Hammerhead from a distance. Then suddenly lightning arcs through the cloud of dust the gunfire created. Pieces of the gunship explode off it’s chassis, and it’s engines darken, gravity causes it to slam into the gravel beneath it . Everyone jolts into action, the new Ghostkeel pilot charges the nearest dreadknight, restraining the manipulator arms. The Crimson Order fires a volley at another, ion smokes from holes in a Grey Knight bedecked in archaic heraldry as his whole suit teeters over, kicking up a churning cloud of dust with the impact.

3. Walking through the wall of a building emerges another colossus, lightning flashes from the pilot, detonating two of the Crimson Order’s battlesuits. Commander Novastorm overcharges his weapons, diverting all the power in the thrusters into the mounted rifles energy output. All that’s left of the Dreadknight’s operator is a hole in the middle of the suit, which crumbles to the ground.

4. The Dreadknight in the center breaks free of the ghostkeels grasp and swings his arm cannon towards Commander Novastorm, recklessly carving a trench into the backdrop with the hot beam of light screaming out of it. Novastorm rockets into the air just in time to dodge the laser, but is unable to avoid the portal suddenly ripped into the folds of reality above him. Unable to adjust his course due to the lack of power in his thrusters, all the commander can do is pull the emergency eject lever. As he is flung out of the battlesuit’s chassis he watches the rift pull it closer, the suit caving in on itself as it’s enveloped by the impossible phenomenon. The Grey Knight then swipes with his Nemesis Greatsword at the Ghostkeel, who flickers out of existence as the stealth drone projecting the hologram crashes to the ground. The real Ghostkeel fires his Cyclic Ion Raker at the Dreadknight, destroying its Psi-Cannon before getting sheared in half by its greatsword.

5. The dreadknight turns towards the stealth suits and begins chanting endlessly about purification as purple flame bursts from him, swallowing and vaporizing stealth team Obscuro

6. D’tano had taken cover in the second floor of a nearby building, only to realize the rest of his fireteam didn’t follow him. Stray bullets burst through the dilapidated wall as the Fireblade takes aim with his pulse rifle, lining up a shot with the dreadknights’ pilot. Before he can properly get a shot, his wrist mounted tacpad beeps in alarm, the Ethereal Aun’Shar’s vitals are dropping! Grimacing at the exposed enemy, he swings his pulse rifle to the floor of the building and fires a few bursts of energy, damaging it enough for the section he stands on to crumble to ground level. Falling into the ruin, D’tano manages to land on his feet as he rushes into the open to support the ethereal.

——————————————————————————

Lighting and hellfire screams over Bo’ran (Commander Novastorm) as he stumbles towards the burning hulk that was once their gunship. A Crisis suit of the Crimson Order, Shas’Vre Nyk’thos of sub-team Crimson Dawn (judging by the markings on its side), rockets by Bo’ran, charging headlong into the raging goliath of a bygone era. Bo’rans’ legs ache from the impact of his ejection system as he breaks into a sprint, but is flung towards the Hammerheads wreckage as Nyk’thos’s suit erupts in a brilliant explosion. Ears ringing, Bo’ran smacks into the hull of the gunship. He wipes the soot from his eyes and rolls off the fusillade, the impact of hitting the ground sends a sharp pain through his ribs. He manages to push him self off the ground, taking stock of the situation around him. Drones whizz around in a panic, intercepting incoming fire. A handful of Fire warriors attempt to establish a firing line before a white hot laser vaporizes two of them instantly. And behind the smoldering wreck is Fireblade D’tano dragging the limp ethereal — Aun…. Char? We never got a proper introduction, Bo’ran muses to himself as he limps in their direction either way, what’s left of his honor guard will not last long against this foe, and I’ve learned the best chances of survival are always right next to an ethereal.

Screams echo across the landscape punctuated by thunderous lightning and wailing laserbeams as Bo’ran grabs hold of the ethereal and helps pull him away from the conflict. A bolt has punctured the ethereals’ chestplate, and as Bo’ran takes a closer look, he sees in place of a wound is a churning rift of psychedelic colors. The ethereal seems insensate, mumbling something about statues.

“He needs more than a doctor!” He shouts as the hammerheads chassis suffers one final explosion, shattering.

“He needs to get out of here first!” Grunts D’tano as a shower of bullets whizz by them and thud into the dirt.

“The only true way out is up, we’re stuck in this hell!” Bo’ran catches a glimpse of a battlesuit in the distance, through all the dust, the familiar glow of plasma flashing towards a large menacing silhouette.

“An elevator. In the building. Found it when we landed!” D’tano forces out between strained pulls. Bo’ran focuses on this new objective.

Almost there! Another explosion lights up the dust cloud in the distance

A few more steps! The screaming in the distance has stopped.

One more push! A hulking figure emerges from the dust, raising its sword, then slices downwards, creating a black rift in front of it. D’tano drops the ethereal and grabs the crank handle of the door, furiously spinning it.

“Inside!!” D’tano wrests the door open, while another rift roars a few meters away from the trio and out steps the hulking dreadknight, but by the time the foul contraption scans the area the Tau had all but vanished.

——————————————————————————

AUTHORS NOTE: I love writing the narrative of my 40K games, but sometimes you suffer a crushing defeat at the hands of a Grey Knights player who brought 4 Dreadknights to a 1000 point game. It was a hard game to play, since it felt like right after the first turn I barely even had a chance at winning, but I hope it at least made an interesting story! After all, if the protagonists of a story never lose, victory doesn’t taste as sweet. I appreciate all the likes I’ve been getting so far and hope you all continue to enjoy The Maynos Gambit!

[emperorstiffy]

The Aftermath

uhh i haven't written in a while and i've been wanting to get back into it, and since i'm getting into 40k and making an OC for it, i figured i'd make something about him. i get my lore from youtube shorts and shit ngl so there might be some inaccuracies in this PUHLEASE don't cut off my feet and leave me to wander the desert i'm just a guy

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In a small sector of a war-torn Imperial planet under siege, the violent, ear-piercing sounds of gunfire and screaming had been reduced to the whirring of Leman Russ tank engines and chatter amongst guardsmen. The Cadian 8th had taken the sector back from Chaos forces, and a platoon had set up an encampment for the night so they could rest before marching out to the battle that awaited them tomorrow.

Sitting on cracked concrete by a fire built from the wooden rubble of a nearby building, a medic was eating an MRE; white rice, with chunks of Grox meat. It wasn’t gourmet by any means, but it was quite good, all things considered– it was especially better than the corpse starch he had been fortunate enough to not be issued.

With the balaclava he wore pulled down under his chin, the medic dug into his MRE with a disposable spoon, shoveling it down his throat as if his life were on the line. The young man hadn’t eaten since breakfast early that morning, and after a long day of marching and fighting, who could blame him? For all he knew, this could be his last meal; a notion that he tried to shake, to no avail.

Finishing off what was left of his MRE, he tossed the pouch into the fire and leaned back, resting his gloved palms on the ground behind himself to support his back. He looked up at the eternal night sky that would have wrapped the planet in a forever darkness, were it not for the millions of candles and torches that lit the city they were fighting to protect. The countless stars threatened to send him into a deep slumber, as he would count each celestial body like a child counting sheep in their dreams.

After removing the cross-body bag that held his medical supplies and setting it onto the ground, he would use his thick leather backpack as a makeshift pillow, carefully lowering himself onto his back to avoid any discomfort with the armor he wore. Observing the stars that loomed above, the young medic closed his eyes. Exhausted as he was, it was a struggle to stay awake; fortunately though, he wouldn’t have to try for long.

“How’s it going, doctor?”

A dejected, yet optimistic voice called out to the medic, pushing a gasp out of his lips from the startlement. Turning his head to see who was talking to him, he saw another young male guardsman, presumably the same age as him. Though, he didn’t recognize him from his squad… Who was he?

Upon closer inspection, the medic realized that this was one of the men he had saved earlier that day. His memory was foggy at best, but if it served him right, he had nursed this fellow guardsman back to health from an 8.25mm to the right shoulder. Lucky for him, it had just barely missed an artery, though the medic neglected to tell him amidst all the chaos of the earlier battle. With a strained groan, the medic sat up and pulled his balaclava back over his nose, looking away from the guardsman and towards the still roaring fire whilst he opened his mouth to speak.

“Hey, there… Uhh, don't call me doctor. I’m just a medic. It’s different.”

The medic said, correcting the guardsman, who’s response was a grunt of acknowledgement as he moved to sit beside his savior.

The two of them sat together in awkward silence, staring into the bright flames that burned before them as they struggled to find something, *anything* to say that could break the tension and distract them from the stress that was slowly boring into their weakened minds, and broken spirits.

For the medic, it felt like he was going cross-eyed– he had become so fixated on his duties that it was difficult to think of anything outside of that, and thus, his mind ceased to think. The heat from the fire and the weight of his backpack stood as subtle reminders that he was there, and yet it felt like he could have been galaxies away, as if he were nothing more than a spectator in this world.

“Name’s Hector, by the way.”

The guardsman spoke with a jerk of his head, snapping the medic out of his trance-like state. He looked away from the night sky and down at Hector with a blank stare, processing what he said before giving a response, his eyes widening as if he had just been resuscitated.

“Oh, errgh– I’m Laevitas.”

Hector nodded, looking away from the fire and towards the man who had saved his life; Laevitas. Such a sophisticated name was fitting for a loyal soldier of the 8th, not to mention his (relatively) clean face and luminescent purple eyes. Surely he must have been a role model for his brothers-in-arms? It must be nice, Hector thought. Having people look up to you, depend on you, protect you…

Man, he really should have gone to medical school.

“What planet do you come from, Laevitas?”

Hector asked, leading Laevitas to look down in contemplation. The medic had nearly forgotten that he was on a whole other planet, despite the differing scenery and relative openness compared to where he grew up. The concept of anything other than the cramped underhives of his home planet was difficult to grasp, to say the least.

“I come from a hive city, back on Holy Terra. If it weren’t for my mother convincing me to go and join the Guard, well… I’d still be there, working in the infirmaries. I-I’m– I’m glad I left… I suppose.. What about you?”

Hector had never seen a hive city with his own eyes, but he had heard tales. Admittedly, he felt bad for Laevitas, though he felt it rude to say so. With a sigh of longing, Hector reared his head back and looked up into the night sky, seeing not an unfamiliar, empty void– no, he saw home in the shining stars above.

“Ahh, I’m just a boy from a small agri-world, you probably haven’t heard of it. As for why I left; I wanted to go places, meet people, maybe even find a pretty lady to settle down with. But… Can I be honest with you, Laevitas?”

Hector asked, to which the medic raised a curious brow, clasping his hands together and giving Hector his full attention. As much as he could, at least– his mind was still clouded. He couldn’t figure out exactly why, he just knew there was something wrong with him. Maybe he didn’t get enough sleep? Maybe the bright red glow of the beams from his lasgun had disoriented him? Maybe he… Wait! He had almost forgotten Hector was talking to him. Laevitas shook his head, trying to bring himself back into the moment right as Hector was opening his mouth to speak. Golden Throne, he had forgotten to even respond!

“YYea–”

“I just want to go home now. I miss my family.”

The two of them exchanged stares for a moment before Laevitas looked forward and lowered his head, gazing into the cracked concrete which he sat on. Laevitas wanted to say something, but he just couldn’t. Couldn’t find the courage, couldn’t find the right words, he just… couldn’t. He wanted to say he could relate, but… Could he? He had been on tour for such a short time, and yet it felt like it had been a century since he last heard his mother’s voice. He missed her, but life in the hive cities of Terra wasn’t much better than a life serving in the Guard. She wanted him to enlist so badly, to go somewhere– ANYWHERE besides Terra! She wanted this, and he knew that. For this he cursed her, yet he longed to see her again all the same.

Overwhelmed with emotions he couldn’t understand, Laevitas’ hands began to tremble whilst a sudden sense of dread washed over his soul. Right as his thoughts and feelings threatened to escape him once more, he was brought back to reality from a tap on the shoulder, looking to his left to see Hector with his hand outstretched for a shake.

“Hey, just… Watch my back so I can make it back in one piece, okay? I’ll keep an eye on you too, don’t worry.”

Hector said with a smile, still waiting for Laevitas to shake his hand. The medic’s eyes darted between Hector’s confident gaze and the hand he was holding out, unsure of what to do. He knew this was a horrible idea, but what was he supposed to do? Say no? His mind was yelling “no”, but his body was moving on its own accord, reaching for Hector’s hand and giving it a firm shake. Hector nodded and got up to leave, waving to Laevitas before bidding him farewell.

“I’m gonna go get some sleep. Take care, Laevitas.”

And with that, Hector walked away. As Laevitas watched his comrade leave, there was but one thought he had:

This was a promise he was sure to break

[potpourrifandoms]

I've not been feeling well lately, and I've been alternating between watching old Disney movies and reading to take my mind off being sick.

Today in my reading, I re-read my favourite Warhammer 40k story, Voice of Experience, and I was inspired to draw some of my favourite scenes. Behold my silly scribbles of Gue'vesa'vres Kalice Arkady and Por'ui Kau'kartyr. Spoilers under the cut! :D

I love t'au so much

I subscribe to the "t'au have blue blood" side of the debate.

I also coincidentally subscribe to the "boy t'au have 'i' nose, girl t'au have 'y' nose" side of the debate, but the author of Voice of Experience has stated that Kartyr has a "y" nose despite being a boy. Who am I to disagree? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Badass buddy cop duo

I wish there was a whole series of novels about themmmm

[fauxsubtique]

Narrative Battle Report: Genestealer Cults vs. Traitor Blood Angels (Custodes)

CONTENT WARNING: EXTREME VIOLENCE

Technical Data

Date: 050524

Players: Faux (Traitor Blood Angels(Custodes)), Bidoof (Genestealer Cults (Civilians))

Mission: 10th Edition, Crucible of Battle, Delayed Reserves, Scorched Earth

Points: 1500 Both

House Rules: Marius may be resurrected even if his unit is dead

Narrative:

It was the third week in the war for the hive city. The Cult of the Rusted claw, having sown its roots deep in this tau-controlled human planet, sought to aid in its defense against extermination. They were not monsters. They were there to save civilians. The plan was to burn the hab block to the ground as soon as everyone was evacuated. Then the fog rolled in... comms started getting static-y, and the Fathers began to sweat.

There was a horrible sound. Like a scream and a battle-cry, it wretched across the darkened skies of the hive, and struck in a bolt of pale white lightning. Then, standing there, there they were. Once saviors, once soldiers, there they were. Captain Angelos, who had once given his mind and soul to save his brothers' lives, only for them to be used as immortal tools of Khorne. Brother-Chaplain Augustus, who had hand-painted the iconography on his armor with a Terran horse-hair brush. Marius the Joyful. Bladelord Victus Nero, once compared to Sanguinius himself for his beauty and grace with a blade.

At first, the members of the cult were shocked and confused. These bone-clad monsters couldn't be here for them?

Captain Angelos barked an order, and two of the three squads split away into the night, leaving just Victus and his men facing the mob.

The gunfire started when Victus began walking. He and his men strode forward. Not hastened, not slowed, just relaxed.

Stubbers and autoguns paffed out through the smog, and the rusted support struts that held the two forces groaned with the weight of providence.

One of Nero's brothers went down, pelted by a blistering hail of gunfire from a local biker gang. The kids looked like greasers and punks, but they'd come out to defend their neighborhood. As their brother fell, the others broke into a sprint. Titans pounded the sand towards the group of bikers, and the group whirled around. The gang retreated to the safety of the back streets for now, leaving the company of Nero in the middle of town. 100 guns trained on them.

Meanwhile, a group of mutants helps to evacuate a building full of civilians. No one special, just an apartment hab block. They are the only people who will leave this battlefield alive. The mutants are led by Forman, an Aobminant.

Elsewhere, two groups of cultists begin filing people out of a combination orphanage/school/animal shelter. 40 civilians, to be in fact. They are the last civilians to be evacuated.

The sound rings out again. Wailing over the gunfire, crashing over the ranks, is the sound of battle. Swords ring, horses scream, bombs detonate, and a bolt of pale white lightning strikes the ground behind the mutants, smelling of ozone and warped flesh. Forman turns to see the old Blood Dragons 1st Company Terminator Squad, led by Marius the Joyful. There isn't a way to tell him from his men, currently. The mutants, dashing to protect their evacuees, slam into the terminators. The fel guards laugh as they are pounded with hammers and stones, beaten into a gugling, bloody pulp. Completely annihilated. The mutants are sweaty and battered, feeling anemic, but triumphant. They turn to jog back to the safe zone. A chill wind caresses the cheek of a fallen warrior, and a hand twitches in the dirt.

Chainswords roar to life, their guttural daemon engines rumbling with delight. Bolt pistols detonated in the air, deafening those standing nearby. They did not stand for long. Two of the bikers were cut down by gunfire while fleeing from the fight. Then the slaughter began. Booms sounded from where Vtus Nero's Blood Butchers advanced around a corner, gunning down several militia cult members. Then Nero had a conscious of crisis. He had orders to follow the bikers. To dig for... for blood. But there was more blood to be had here...

His thirst for the wine of Khorne pulled him like an iron chain. Against his orders and tactical sense, he charged the two mobs of cultists. And the civilians they protected. Chainswords and axes roared into life, and blood shot into the dingy streetlight like fountains of rosewater. Nero rejoiced as he watched it shimmer and glow. His mind was aglow with the haze of insanity, and his hands cut down three soldiers and a family of six. Then his brothers followed him into the gap, their martial training manifest as they instinctively closed ranks... and began tearing people apart with their weapons. Brother Flimflam was so overcome with himself that he slammed his archaic faceplate into the floor attempting to squeeze the blood from the meat with his teeth.

In the end, 60 people were brutally murdered, and the Blood Butchers earned their name yet again. This massacre marks the halfway point of the battle.

Acolyte Iconward Jr. (named after his long-lost Patriarch, Acolyte Iconward) watched in horror as members of his congregation were torn to pieces. He yelled and pulled his bio-pistol, ready to enact revenge.

One of the militia members who had been working an anti-jammer to get a signal through to the outside, and had succeeded. A group of armed college students nearby had heard the shooting, and were coming to aid their fellow members of the faith. They had planned a surprise attack on Captain Angelos' squad. Members of Angelos' personal guard, The Lord's Table, knelt before their leader in a half-circle as he sipped wine from a skull. His gorgeous golden hair and sharp features missed nothing, not that you could see them beneath the Mask of the Pig. A boar's head, larger than a chair, shoved onto Angelos' helm. It grew strange patches of long black hair. The students fired their collection of tommy guns, and accomplished nothing. The lead shells pinged off of power fields and sheer malevolent plasma. Angelos turned, raised his bolter, and one of the students' heads turned to paste. The Lord's Table charged, butchering all twenty of them.

Across the field, as Forman led his group of survivors to safety, Marius the Joyful stomped to his feet. Red lightning crackled 'neath his armor, and his helm was bent and twisted so that a glowing, leering grin shon out from it. Forman crushed the horror immediately with his massive hammer, and Marius crumpled into the dust once more. Several gunshots were fired into his helm to ensure he was down.

After a long and brutal fight, the Blood Butchers were finally gone, with only an injured Victus standing amid 10 wounded men. His helm, cut off half way up the face, showed his flawless olive skin and eager smile.

As the 10 troops broke away from Nero, misfortune befell them near instantly, as they ran directly into Angelos. The Lord's Table charged, one of them turning off his power fist to feel the pop of the small head he gripped in his hands.Angelos himself disdained the murders, walking primly and weeping openly.

Lightning rippled from Marius' mangled body, and he screamed as Khorne's fury at his failure shamed him into new life. He stumbled to his feet, firing his gun and lunging. A mother and her child were saved by one of the mutants, who dove before the axe of the slaughterer. They left Marius, shattered and smiling, metal face haunting those who survived for years to come.

At last the biker gang had circled back around, and were greeted... with carnage. Nearly a hundred of their friends, family, and neighbors lay dead in the street. And out of the gloom walks another squad of monsters. This one is easy to spot, as a man with a red skull helm screams his admiration for his god. The bikers do as they did before. Drive close, rake with gunfire, leave. But they make the mistake of assuming all Chaos is made alike. Their shots mean nothing, and space blurs as warriors of the Red God dive. Metal crashes, bodies smash, and limbs fly in a maelstrom.

Forman and his mutants turn to see their home, not burning bodiless as they'd intended, but flooded with red.

In the end, most of the leaders of the cult escaped, as well as some civilians. However, it is estimated that the Blood Dragons removed approximately 53% of Hab Sector Hydron.

[autisticbritishcowboy]

The Marines approached with caution. The time of them led by the captain. They had forty tyrannides before but none like this none with the grey peasy underbelly and the blue top. They had no idea what this new hive Fleet or strain would bring to the table. What new Tactics or abilities might they have for all the Marines new they could travel between the material and the war part will spit acid and make people's Minds explode. It was easily the size of all 10 of them so they conducted a plan using the Shadows and the concealed light of the ruined hive City they took their places around the creature and opened how to fire upon the loan tyrannid. The creature let out a loud ear splitting roar that could damage the ears of even the space marines. The tyrannid fell which was odd considering usually it would have been a lot stronger by itself or at least had swarms of smaller tyrannides to back it up. They soon realised however what the tyrannides strategy was. This was some new kind of tyranid that left after screech so loud it caused the structure of the Hive cities collapse bringing the weight of the entire hive down upon the Marines. The Marines evacuated making their way out of the collapsing City. For most of them this is the closest thing they had ever felt to fear. Centuries of rubble and dust began to fall around them One marine was impaled on a falling shab of metal another one was crushed beneath a magnificent stone pillar that land the Marine waste. More Marines began to fall. Eventually only six of the original 10 were left. Led by their captain they could see the exit to the hive onto the Baron waste beyond that they'd never thought they'd be glad to see. Just then the very exit seemed to cave in and the ceiling and walls fell inwards giving them a sense of claustrophobia. That was a bright Flash and they turned to see the librarian using his powers to hold off the imploding city. " four Thrones sake run." The captain ordered his Marines to do as the psychos suggested and they made their way out just before. They saw the Hive collapse in on itself killing the psyche burying the Remains of the tyrannid the Marines and the countless civilians who had died underneath it. The captain stood on the bridge of the ship staring at the the planet as the virus bomb was detonated. After they escape the city it was declared Lost by the imperium and reduced to ashes in a bright explosion rendered that Place full of human life and the place where his brothers had into nothing more than hunks of a rock floating in the Baron void of space.

[notyourbigsister]

Warhammer 40k lesbians

loving - no cw

And you are devastatingly gorgeous, Bridget murmured as Lilith began to undress for the evening in front of her. Bridget quietly locked the entrance to their wing as she began unbuttoning her shirt, slowly revealing her chaos scarred chest. 

It had by no means been an exceedingly long amount of time since the two last had an intimate rendezvous, but the stress of the last battle hung its heavy fog over the mood of the whole crew. The threat made towards Lilac had been echoing in the back of Bridget’s mind, the very thought of being separated from her partner causing her chest to tighten in a way she’d never quite felt before. 

These thoughts, however, were swept away as Bridget sidled towards the now nude Lilac. The taller of the two seemed completely oblivious, tidying her surroundings before beginning to make their path towards the soft sheets of their bed. Indeed, Lilac was completely unaware of any of her wife’s intentions until they felt their partner grab their hips and snap her crotch into their body. “Oh! Hello love” Lilac exclaimed chuckling, turning a new shade of red rivaling Khorne.

Bridget smiled into Lilac’s neck, their breath falling on the now sensitive pilot. “Hello, my love” she whispered before turning Lilac around, beginning to kiss her as if her tongue was locked in battle. Pushing her towards the bed, Bridget began to remove the rest of her clothing, leaving themselves in nothing but an unbuttoned work shirt, tastefully providing a small amount of modesty to the rows of conquered skulls opposite the couple’s bed. 

As soon as they released their wife’s chest was accessible, Lilac began kissing every inch of skin available to her. Leaving soft bites as she made her way down, she began slowly teasing at Bridget’s nipples, earning a loud gasp from the brunette, who was too focused on returning thoughtful touches to Lilac to realize her intent. “A little sensitive today, my darling?” she murmured before returning to her work, the two transferring to be laying on the bed together, Bridget taking care to close their curtain. 

“Gods you have no fucking clue, I’m so pent up, honey,” she said, beginning to grind her now erect penis into the air as if searching desperately for some source of touch. 

“Oh, I think I have an idea. You forget we share a bed, there is no satisfaction found in a shower when compared to you.” 

Lilac flipped onto her back to be laying next to her partner, now beginning to softly trace the intricate curves of Bridget’s genitals, before beginning to fondle them lovingly. 

“Oh goodness you’re really going for it, huh?” Bridget stumbled out, stifling moans. 

“Mm well if you have a plan by all means, please” Lilac responded before ceasing her touches, rolling over to turn on the stringed lights she strung up within the dark canopy of the bed.

Bridget said nothing, but sat up and got onto her knees before pinning Lilac down, claiming dominance. She lowly growled as she returned the favor of playing with her partner’s nipples, Lilac’s being more sensitive. Her partner gasped loudly and began moaning, an action that didn’t stop repeating from pleasure until the two reached their climaxes. 

Lilac’s chest was merely a pit stop in the mission to conquer her body, as the smaller pilot began to kiss the large and soft belly, then thighs, and finally pussy as she began to eat Lilac out. Fiercely licking and sucking, she played the instrument of her partner well as she teased notes and crescendos of pleasure out of Lilac. She remained locked in place for quite some time, this particular activity being one of her favorites to perform. 

Finally, after bringing Lilac to a satisfying conclusion, Bridget rose to her knees, picking Lilac’s legs up in the process. Grabbing her shaft and beginning to rub the tip along Lilac’s folds, gathering the wetness from Lilac’s hole and using it as a lubricant to stimulate the two’s clits together. She leaned over the taller, now submissive, pilot and placed an intense kiss on their soft lips before beginning to bite their shoulders and neck.

“No one to worry about seeing these hickies anymore, mm? I can mark you up as much as I want. Not that anyone on this ship doesn’t know that you’re mine, anyways, my pet.” Bridget whispered before returning to biting.

“Uh-huh!” Lilac managed to respond, the intense stimulation from multiple sources clouding her mind. She now lay writhing in pleasure under her wife, clawing at their back, adding new scratches to the collection. 

Once happy with the amount of new bruises covering Lilac’s neck, Bridget pulled back, saying “Is it okay if I start? Are you ready?” She was completely oblivious to the idea that Lilac hadn’t had a coherent thought in 10 minutes, let alone able to get a string of words out. Regardless, she nodded furiously as they shuffled underneath their wife, getting into a comfortable position for Bridget.

Picking up her wife by the hips and snapping her cock into their slick hole, Bridget began to slowly slide in and out of the now completely incomprehensible Lilac. Having already came, and being kept on the brink of another orgasm, she was even more overwhelmed with the intensity of her partner’s thrusts hitting every nerve just right. She was the definition of happily overstimulated, mewling into the other’s ear pathetically and desperately grappling to keep them close.

Driven by the slow tease of the evening and Lilac’s hot breath in her ear, Bridget began to pick up in speed and intensity, shaking the bedframe against the ship’s wall, alerting everyone within a 100 yard radius to the already noticeable noises originating from the two’s quarters. “Oh shit, I’m already so close, is that okay?” Bridget managed to moan out, worried over her own sensitivity, wanting to ensure a pleasant enough time for her wife. Lilac, still incomprehensible, managed to nod and wave for Bridget to continue as she rode out wave after wave of pleasure.

Continuing forth at full speed, Bridget’s pacing grew more erratic as she herself felt the warmth pool before finally reaching her own orgasm. With them both being on birth control, no anxiety was felt when she pumped her wife full of her own cum, moaning and continuing to thrust as it burst out of her.

The two completely exhausted and riding the high of a job well done, Bridget simply fell onto the Lilac that lay underneath her, wrapping her arms around her wife as she rested, attempting to catch her breath whilst remaining inside, both for comfort and to prevent a mess being made. “Oh gods I love you so much,” Lilac said as she began playing with Bridget’s hair, now in complete calm bliss. “That was absolutely incredible, I love you so much.” Bridget simply nodded and snuggled further into the taller pilot, smiling and purring out of happiness. 

After a few moments of serenity, Bridget insisted the two clean up so that proper aftercare and cuddles may ensue. She ran off to grab a damp cloth, returning with it to wipe both herself and Lilac off. After that was done, they tossed the wipe onto the floor, returning to the comfort of Lilac’s arms once again. “I love you, flower,” Bridget huskily whispered, now tired and looking forward to falling asleep soon. 

“I love you too, ember,” Lilac responded, pulling her wife into arm’s embrace and continuing to play with her hair. 

The two remained in bed like this for a few moments, both determined to try to stay awake to give the other the aftercare so coveted and needed. But, both pilots were tired, and drifted off together, tangled in the sheets of the bed they fought so hard to keep.

[fauxmystique]

WH40k Writing Prompt

Since I have trouble coming up with writing prompts sometimes, I found one I liked! And thought I would share.

Hey everyone here! I really like this subreddit, and I'd love to hear more stories from you all! So, I decided I'd give a writing prompt this sunny afternoon, and see how it went!

Prompt: Ferrus Manus has just warped back to terra. There was no announcement, no greeting, he simply appeared with his entire legion. And then a Necron Invasion Fleet warped in as well. How would the battles go? Who would the heroes be? Are the Iron Hands the Angelic Saviors, or the Hated Heretics?

Could it even be... a trick of the Alpha Legion??

(Have fun!) (p.s. Have some flavor text)

M42 Status: Emergency Code: Black MECHANICUM INTERIOR MYSTERII ONLY

The file contains video footage of an imperium citizen using a standard issue dataslate on the surface of HOLY TERRA.

"He's returned! Oh Holy Emperor, He's Returned! Ferrus Manu-"

The video is promptly cut short by a high-power, short-range detonation.

WARP RIFT DETECTED OVER HOLY TERRA

Archmagos, please advise.

Oh, and here's my entry:

No time has passed since the day it was rainy in the square at the Imperial Chapel. When the newly installed Ministorum Priestess canted out in holy prayer's verse, "Here announces the Third Legion to Ever Be Erased From Imperial History. No More Shall Any Speak the Name, Ferrus Manus, for he is traitor and Anathema to humankind. So Sayeth He On Terra, Guilliman's Father.

A Bolter round struck her in the head immediately after. It had been forewarned, but the noise of a bolter... it still makes me jump. As rain poured down my cheeks I watched her die for something she had no choice but to do.

And in that moment, I felt something stir in my blood. Through the chemicals, and the suppressants, and the dampeners, a single bubble forced its way out of my mouth.

"Ferrus Manu-"