#Pre-HERESY

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

World Eater by 郑伟

[alphamecha-mkii]

Dreadnought by lieqi hun

[lumi-klovstad-games]

So I might have made pre-Heresy Fulgrim as a Half-Elf Paladin in Baldur's Gate 3. I know they're technically not in Fulgrim's canon description, but I find the gold streaks in his hair and Glorious Golden Guyliner really add to his... Fulgrim-ness.

Okay YES I cheated to max out his stats, but in my defense, Fulgrim's literally Prince Perfect. Also gotta love how, as a Primarch, he's so huge that he barely fits on the character sheet screen and stands an entire head taller than basically everyone else.

On his Vow as a paladin, Space Cocaine is off the table.

...REGULAR COCAINE HOWEVER...

[the-perfect-entropy]

Ardent Serpents - Forgotten Millennial

"They strike swift and true leaving no room for their enemies to recover or realize they have been set upon. Their art is furious and deadly and so I name them as such." - The Phoenician

Chapter Structure:

Hadrah (Lord Commander) - Xurok Malek

Anusiya (Consuls) - Javid Akemè, Aphra Safavi, Enayat Mahdavi, Adrian Malek, Negin Abdi

Spahbad (Equerries) - Ergo Reid, Samira Pakdel, Akhtar Sehat, Gohar Yekta

Immortalis (Chosen Astartes) - 250 Astartes acting as the prominent veteran and primary fighting force for the 10th Millennial.

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

AUTONOMY & PEACE IN 1984 -- ONE MAN'S MIND PROVOKES ANOTHER MAN'S PAIN."

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on PLASMID banner/back cover sleeve art, Pre-HERESY anarcho thrash/DISCHARGE-style punk band, c. 1984, the original banner now lies in the possession of punk historian/aficionado Clint @xtheageofaquariassx 🍄☮️.

PIC #2: Back cover sleeve art, utilizing the banner illustration, for the band's self-titled 1984 EP, released by Shortfuse Records in 2006.

Sources: www.picuki.com/media/2149536599151257132 & Terminal Sound Nuisance (blogspot).

[wh40kartwork]

Primarchs

by Mauro Belfiore

[reijiaoe]

Lorgar Aurelian

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Tyranthikos Garaakos by arielscar_art

[mothiir]

made to be a devotee

cw: lorgar jerking it. that’s it that is the plot. for @moodymisty

—

—

It is not the first time that Lorgar has taken himself in hand while thinking of you, and it will not be the last. Lying on his austere bed, staring at the ceiling — after pointedly turning the statues of the Emperor to face the wall — he strokes himself root to tip, his shaft thickening eagerly.

He does this not because he wants to, but because he must. You are a good woman — kind, clever, bright-eyed and curious, and you speak with him about his books in a way that so few dare — and he will not dishonour you with his lust. When the time is right, when the crusade is done, he will take you as his wife in the sight of the Emperor, and then — and only then — will he bed you. He allows himself a moment to dwell on the glorious future: Monarchia, resplendent in gold, its people rejoicing at their lord’s nuptials; you, clad in white, your belly already starting to swell with child —

His forehead furrows a little. No, that’s not right: you cannot be pregnant until after the wedding. After. He alters his daydream minutely. Now you wear a dress of shimmering bronze, your pregnant belly testament to the exertions of your wedding night. It is the — anniversary? Or it is a celebration of his Father’s latest victory? It matters not. The point is you, holding his wrist as you parade before your people; or you, straddling his lap that night, your skin painted gold in candle light. My lord husband, you will say.

He strokes himself again, harder, as the image shifts a little, memory replacing fantasy. The last time he saw you — the incident that prompted this latest shameful session — you had been in the library, a book open on your lap. You were hunched over it, in a Astartes-sized chair, the noontime sun catching in your hair. The very point of your pink tongue had snuck out, moistening your finger before you turned a page.

Lorgar had executed a speedy strategic retreat. If he had stayed — oh if he had stayed. Well. He would have seated himself in the armchair, arranged you on his lap — far more comfortable for you that way. He would have replaced your thumb with his, and let you suckle on it, your cheeks hollowing as you peered up to him. You would like the taste of his skin, he’s certain. “There. Good girl.”

You’d like being called good. You are always so keen for approval, so desperate to please. So keen. He’d sneak in another finger, maybe, letting your lips stretch around them, drool slipping down towards his knuckles. He’d fuck your throat with his fingers first — preparing you, letting you get used to him —

And it wouldn’t cause you any shame, Lorgar thinks, starting to fuck his fist in earnest. No shame, because it isn’t sex, is it? He would still be able to take you as a virgin bride, like you deserved, pure as the driven snow, untainted by his baser feelings. All he would do is let you suck his fingers, just a little. Work your mouth open on them. Feel your sweet, blunt teeth against his flesh. Maybe he would reach a little deeper — into the wet channel of your throat, until you hiccuped around his digits. He would try to pull his hand free, but you would take his wrist. Suck harder. Pleading wordlessly to let him continue. Wanting him to take his pleasure with you, to abuse your throat, because he is your Primarch, your lord, your master —

Lorgar’s breath catches. He grasps himself harder, hips rolling up.

He would decline of course. He couldn’t possibly. Would never. Could never. You’re too good for it, too pure, you’re worth more — but you wouldn’t care. You’d say you want him even if it means being his whore.

He would be powerless to resist as you knelt before him —

Lorgar pauses, opens his eyes. Looks over at one of his desk chairs and does a few mental calculations. You probably wouldn’t have to kneel — merely bend over a little. And yet — no, the visual of you kneeling is far too pleasing to let go of. He adjusts the height of the library chair. There: now you have to kneel before the chair with uncommonly long legs.

Where was he? Yes: you’re sucking at his head now, using both of your tiny hands to milk him onto your tongue. Greedy for him, even though you can barely swallow an inch of his prick. You spit on his cock, then look somewhat embarrassed at your boldness. He urges you on —

Lorgar can feel his orgasm building. He squeezes the base of his prick, letting the scene change again: he has his face buried in your cunt, your thighs bracketing his face as he licks deeper into you, your mewling cries almost insensible save his name: Lorgar, Lorgar. A victory cry, a hymn, a call to worship. Lor-gar please, Lord Lorgar please —

The image changes one more time, almost against his will. He’s spilling inside you, your body clinging to his prick, warm and welcoming and tight and home —

He cums so hard he sees stars, his seed splashing up onto his abdomen. Still hazy with climax, he wishes you were there to lick him clean. And then the rose-gold dozy feeling wanes away, and he is sticky and alone and ashamed.

Not yet. But soon. Soon, he shall have you where you belong: his bride, in his bed, and under him.

[igimacigy]

[rulernogard156]

I had a fuckin abysmal day at work. So I tried to cheer myself up with my own personal design for Fem Mortarion.

The sticky notes are from work. Sorry, they're all kinda crap. Got yelled at cause despite having literally no work to do(I know, I asked) a higher up saw me sketching them out and told my supervisor.

My supervisor then chewed me out, Along with everything fuckin else wrong with me.

I'm just so so so so tired.

[naniguini]

Me: I need to see wholesome facts about the Primarchs, I need to forget about the horrors. *Me watching wholesome facts about the Primarchs and still remembering the horrors*

BTW you have my permission to drop more wholesome facts or headcannons of them. I'll leave some I already know in the tags.

[islanddrone]

Pre-Heresy Thousand Solarians Sorcerer Ji

[wh40kartwork]

Aurelian

by David Ok

[sepulchuresketchbook]

And underneath the skies of Ullanor, I saw something so beautiful. An angel had descended from above to cast his gaze upon me.

I felt so small underneath his gaze. So small and insignificant. He was a vision of glory. I thought- this couldn’t have happened without reason or divine providence.

So then, I began to pray.

[megsdoodletag]

Your version of Mortarion is literally everything to me I love him so much I want to kiss him so bad he's so pretty I love him I love him

ok so the man immediately made good on his promise in the last post and struck me with Some Kind of Plague over the weekend.

however. that will not stop me.