#Primarch

[lamtfluff]

Why'd you have to make him hot in this op. He looks like he would sonorously tell me things....

Kibellah and the patron saint of those who serve the darkest of Emperor's hypostases.

Yes, yes, The Traitors were consigned to oblivion and all that, but... ;)

[f1shz]

I saw the mug at a shop a day or two ago and thought of this guy came up

[beckyninja]

Dark Intentions

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Violence against those who do and don't deserve it

Description: Dark plots are uncovered in the aftermath of the Guilliman's fiancée's "death".

Did any of you really think I'd end Guilliman and the Reader's story like that?

This is the latest in my GuillimanxFemReader series. Check out the previous fics (and others) on my Masterlist.

She is gone.

Sirens blared. Voices shouted. 

She is gone.

“Their ships have disappeared from all scanners!” “Picking up a warp signature… they’re fleeing!” “Wait…missile launches!”

Gone.

“Report on missile trajectory!” “They’re not aimed at us, Lord.”

Gone.

“Holy Terra!”

New explosions lit the void as missiles riddled Captain Takahashi’s ship. The sleek, tapered vessel writhed as if in agony for a few moments before its spine shattered. Charred debris spun in all directions, bouncing off the Macragge’s Honor’s void shields.

Gone.

In the time between heartbeats. Between breaths. One moment warm and full of life. The next….

“My Lord Primarch!”

Guilliman looked upon the scowling visage of Cato Sicarius, only to see his expression morph into something else. Something pale and wide-eyed. The Captain of the Victrix Guard took a step back.

“Prepare to enter the Warp.”

His words? Yes, he felt his lips move, the vibration of his vocal chords.

“We pursue.”

Why could he not recognize his own voice?

“My Lord,” Cato struggled to maintain eye contact, “without a set destination-”

“More contacts, my lords!” The serf at the communications cogitator shouted. “I am picking up numerous small vessels. Life pods from the destroyed cruiser.”

Guilliman turned away. Back toward the void. He heard himself speak once more.

“Send transports to retrieve the survivors. One of them will show us the final approach to… her… home world. We will chase those who did this back to their very gates.”

Something flickered within the hollowed out shell of his soul. It grew into a howling conflagration, yet his voice remained colder than a Fenrisian winter.

“And they will know pain.”

***

Battle Brother Julian Tarchus fought to awaken. He felt as though he was drowning in the ocean he’d swam in as a boy, clawing toward the surface with all his might. Fragmented images raced through his mind.

Bent nearly double in the passenger compartment of the foreign transport… you seated next to him… your sympathetic smile….

A sudden thrum… another, identical ship appearing out of nowhere next to them… an impact…an explosion…curling himself around you….

The bitter taste of chemicals as gas filled the compartment.

“...metabolizing the sedative. Faster than anything I’ve ever seen!”

“Increase the dosage again.”

He forced his eyes open.

Bright, white lights nearly blinded him. He lay in what he could only describe as an Apothecarion of some kind. Screens flashed data. Unfamiliar medical equipment loomed above him. No candles. No holy shrines. 

Not an Imperial ship.

He tried to rise from his prone position, only to meet resistance.

“Doctor! He’s waking up!”

Tarchus turned his head to see a male baseline in a flimsy looking uniform of some kind, white as everything else seemed to be in this damned chamber. A cloth mask covered his lower face. Fear flickered in his wide eyes.

“I said increase the dosage, damn you!”

Turning his head the other way brought another male baseline into view. Slightly different uniform. Same mask.

He glared at the first male. “Useless! I’ll do it myself!”

He reached for a bag of clear liquid hanging to one side, syringe in hand.

Tarchus reacted first. He tore through whatever bound his wrists with contemptuous ease and lurched upward. The world spun. He felt his body breaking down whatever poisons they’d injected into him, but his reaction time still seemed pathetically slow.

The first baseline screamed and fled, dodging the Ultramarine’s grasp by millimeters as he scrambled through a door on the opposite side of the chamber.

“Warp…damn it….” Tarchus rasped through a bone-dry throat.

“We have an emergency!” The Ultramarine turned to see the second baseline babbling into some kind of vox-caster set into the white wall. “Subject has awakened and appears hostile! Send armed aid to Surgical Room-” His voice turned to a gurgle as Tarchus’s fingers wrapped around his throat. 

The warrior lifted the writhing baseline off his feet, watching the man’s face begin to purple. Only then did he realize they’d stripped him of his armor and body suit.

He stood in the white room in nothing but his loincloth.

Rage tightened his grip on the struggling chirurgeon, for so the baseline must be.

“Where…is…the…Lady?”

Lord Guilliman had given him a sacred task: protect his betrothed at all costs. It was a task Tarchus had volunteered for, even against the disapproval of Captain Sicarius. Their Genefather saw value in you. 

You who looked at him with neither fear nor slavish subservience.

You who went out of your way to converse with him.

You who he found himself liking.

You belonged to the Chapter now. He would not fail you.

The baseline’s eyes rolled back in his sockets. Tarchus huffed and dropped him to the tiled floor. The man gasped. The Ultramarine smelled the sour stench of fresh urine.

“I…will not…ask again.”

“Sh-sh-she is-”

The door burst open. Tarchus grunted as what felt like a half dozen projectiles slammed into his back. He spun towards the intruders.

Theoretical: Charge is missing. Probability suggests you remain somewhere in this locale. Crew has proven hostile. Armor and weapons unavailable.

Practical: Attain armor and weapons. Search locale. Permanently remove obstructions. Not necessarily in that order.

He charged the armed baselines in the doorway. 

More projectiles peppered his  upper chest. To their credit, the soldiers in strange, carapace-like armor held their ground… for the first few seconds. 

He crushed a helmeted head in one fist. With the other hand he backhanded a soldier, sending him flying into the wall. A kick dispatched another with a wet crunch. Blood spattered. The thrill of battle lit within his veins.

Then the enemy broke and ran.

Tarchus found himself in a broad corridor of shining metal. When he straightened, the top of his head brushed the grated ceiling. Alarms blared and red lights flashed.

Well, it is not as if I was trying for stealth.

A grim humor twisted his lips as he strode forward. He considered going back to question the chirurgeon again, then decided against it. If these humans held you captive, he could not afford to waste a second.

Signs dotted the doors and walls he passed. He scowled, wishing he’d thought to learn to read your language as well as speak it. Nothing to do but press forward. Glancing through the few open doors revealed more medical equipment and tables. 

Still in whatever passes for the Apothecarion, then.

The sheer amount of artificial illumination disoriented him. He found himself longing for the dim corridors and flickering candlelight of an Imperial warship.

Am I even on a voidship? How long was I unconscious?

He pushed such questions from his mind.

Shouts and the pounding of boots on metal sounded ahead. He frowned. The projectile weapons the first soldiers had used did little against his toughened skin. But his enemies knew that now, and doubtless would utilize more destructive arms.

Without his armor he remained at a disadvantage.

I should proceed with caution.

A sharp cry from around the approaching corner electrified every nerve in his body. He knew that voice.

Caution be damned!

He bellowed and charged. “For the Emperor!” 

The pair of soldiers setting up what looked to be a heavy lasgun had no time to even cry out before he was upon them. Wiping blood and brain matter from his eyes, he lifted the weapon. Not a lazgun, but he could see no projectiles either.

No matter. As long as it deals death and ruin.

Just ahead, more soldiers crouched behind a makeshift barricade of crates and tables. One hefted a long tube to his shoulder and pointed it in his direction. Tarchus pulled his weapon’s trigger and the white beam it produced reduced the soldier to a charred husk.

The Ultramarine grinned.

“Tarchus!”

He shifted his attention to a knot of figures further behind the barricade. There was a short struggle, and a disheveled female pushed forward.

You.

“Praise the Emperor.” He rasped, feeling a great weight lift from his shoulders.

His relief turned to white hot rage as another figure stretched out a hand and caught you by your hair. The tall baseline male yanked you back against him, pressing a pistol to your throat.

Tarchus growled.

“Drop the cannon, brute. Or watch me paint the walls with her blood.”

For an instant, the Ultramarine hesitated. A mistake that cost him dearly.

Weight like a Land Raider dropped upon his shoulders. It drove him to his knees, the breath forced from all three lungs. He heard you scream and fought to rise...

…to no avail. 

Whatever trap they’d laid held him pinned to the floor like an insect beneath a boot. He squeezed the weapon’s trigger once more, bisecting the first two soldiers who dared approach, before feeling it yanked from his weakening grasp.

He tried to curse his enemy, to make any noise at all, only to find he lacked the breath to do so. Craning his neck, his eyes met your horrified gaze.

Forgive me.

A half hysterical laugh. “Well, well, dear cousin! It seems the famed Space Marines aren’t so invincible after all! Kill him.”

The approach of boots. A cold muzzle against his temple.

Not like this. Emperor, not like this!

“Wait!” You screamed.

Your captor’s voice sank into a vicious hiss. “Are you fond of your betrothed’s attack dog, my dear? Would you have him live?”

Tarchus thrashed with all that remained of his fading strength. “No…,my Lady, do not….”

Your next words drowned him in shame. “Don’t kill him, Victor. I’ll do whatever you want. But please don’t kill him!”

No.

“It’s a deal then.” Victor’s triumphant laugh rang throughout the corridor. “As long as you cooperate, the beast lives. Sergeant? If you would?”

The muzzle lifted from his temple. Tarchus heard the crackle of electricity. Then white hot pain lanced through his skull, driving him back down into darkness.

It paled in comparison to the agony of failure.

***

Victor’s fingers dug into your arm as he dragged you through the bowels of his ship. You felt his nails break skin, adding to the innumerable cuts and bruises covering your body. You ached.

Part of you still prayed this was all a nightmare. That you’d awaken in your bed aboard The Macragge’s Honor, soon to bask in the warmth of blue eyes again.

Oh Light! Roboute! 

He thought you dead. You knew it with absolute certainty. Tears filled your eyes as you imagined his anguish.

“Crying again?” Your cousin snorted. “How very unattractive.”

In an instant, your grief turned to fury. “You bastard!”

He laughed. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you!”

The mercenaries escorting the two of you snickered. Your face burned.

“I hate you.”

Something dark flickered in his eyes. “Careful now. You know what happens if you try me.”

Tarchus….

He’d fought so hard to save you. How your heart had leapt when he’d come charging around that corner, bellowing his battle cry! How it had bled when he lay helpless under tons of scrap metal.

The look in his eyes when you surrendered your dignity to save him.

Even if he survives, he’ll never forgive me.

“Where did your animals take him?”

The mercenaries stopped snickering and glared. You lifted your chin and glared straight back.

Victor didn’t spare you a glance. “The Predator’s brig is extensive, cousin. I had it expanded just recently.” He giggled. “And he won’t be lonely.”

“What have you done?”

“In a moment, fair cousin.” He jerked to a halt, pushing you roughly against a wall. “Ah! Here we are!”

A few punches of a key code and a door slid open. You were dragged into a room that could have belonged to your family’s most luxurious manor house. Plush carpets covered the floor, except for the gilded tiles beneath a bubbling fountain. Heavy, cushioned furniture of rare wood furnished the chamber: chairs, a table laden with flowers and delicacies, and a massive, four-poster bed.

“Impressive, no? I had it designed as an exact copy of my bedchamber in the Palace.” He shoved you toward a chair. “Sit. Relax.”

You gazed up at him.

“Speechless?” He grinned, the scar on his cheek gleaming scarlet, and turned to his guards. “Out.”

The older of the two hesitated. “Any orders for the Captain, my Prince?”

Victor sighed. “The same as they were the last time he asked. Make straight for TerraNova with all speed.”

“And…if we’re followed?”

“By who? The Barbarian King thinks she’s dead.” He jerked a thumb in your direction. “Investment gone. He’ll cut his losses and move on. And even if he does try to follow,” Victor grinned, “without the good Captain to guide him through the Wards, he could spend centuries wandering the void and never find our system.”

You leapt to your feet. “What have you done to Captain Takahashi?”

“Oh, I sent a dozen or so nukes into her cruiser as we entered the Warp. Had to make sure, you know.”

Horror. Fury. You threw yourself at him with a scream.

He caught your flailing hands and laughed. “Temper, temper, cousin. That little outburst will cost your beast an eye.”

You froze. “No, Victor-”

“See to it, Sergeant.”

“Wait, wait! I’m sorry!”

He only laughed again, catching you against his chest as the mercenaries left the room. You sagged against him.

Tarchus, forgive me.

Helplessness. You remembered this feeling. You swore you’d never feel it again. What a fool you’d been.

Victor’s hands ran up and down your back. “There we go. Isn’t it easier when you stop fighting?”

He pushed, and you collapsed back into the chair, staring at nothing. Numb.

Your cousin crouched before you. “And here I was worried you’d grown a spine. Happy to see I was wrong.” He grasped your chin, tilting it back and forth. “Pretty enough. Though I still can’t see why a so-called demi-god would want you.”

Roboute.

He’d had such faith in you. Your eyes focused once more.

“I’ll ask again, Victor. What are you doing?”

He stood and sauntered over to the table, poking amongst the fruits and sweets. “I was supposed to make sure you were dead. That’s what Granny Dearest ordered. You dead, me the Heir, and she the ultimate power.”

“What about the coup?”

“Oh, it’s going wonderfully! Grandmother’s forces have trapped the Grand Council on the Eastern Continent. She’s been stocking the military with her supporters for decades now, you see. And those who wouldn’t fall in line?” He shoved a chocolate into his mouth. “Well, the asteroid mining camps always need more free labor.”

Decades. They’d been planning this for decades.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “And Conrad?”

“Disappeared. But who cares about him, anyway? Pitiful little intellectual.” He spat the word.

“Did my message even make it through?”

Victor shrugged. “And if it did? Who would react? The Council is fighting for their lives. The Military is ours.”

“The people-”

“Are a rabble of cowards, so used to being under Granny’s boot they couldn’t rise up even if they wanted to.”

You gritted your teeth. “The Church, then.”

Your cousin’s grin sent chills down your spine. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Grandmother began a purge of the Abbeys and Monasteries shortly after you left. Hotbeds of rebellion, those places.”

You felt as though he’d punched you in the stomach. 

The Abbey. The Holy Sisters. My home.

Rage boiled within you again, but this time, you held it back.

“Why do this, Victor? Grandmother is already Matriarch. What more could she want?”

“You really don’t know anything, do you?” He slouched against the table. “Ever since she usurped the Patriarch, our much revered Grandfather, Granny’s craved power like a twitcher craves stims. The Council, the Articles of Government, all these things stood in her way.”

You thought of the years you’d spent locked within the Palace. Alone. Isolated. While schemes were being hatched all around you.

If I’d been braver, stronger, could I have prevented this? How many lie dead because I was too stupid to-

No. You could not let regret paralyze you. Not now.

Your hand sought the ring Roboute had given you. Perhaps touching it would bring you some much needed strength.

By the Light! The ring!

You stared down at your bare hand.

“Looking for this?” Victor tossed something that glittered gold and blue up and down in his hand. “Pretty bauble. Did he give it to you?”

You clenched your hands into fists.

The beacon. How could I have forgotten?!

Victor’s hand closed around it. “I think I’ll hang onto it. Wouldn’t be right for my consort to wear jewelry gifted to her by another man.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Your consort.”

He stalked toward you. “I saved you, you know. Grandmother wanted you dead, but I defied her.” 

You pushed yourself back into the chair as he knelt before you, idly slipping Roboute’s ring into his uniform jacket. “When she defeats the Council’s forces, she’ll be weakened, cousin. Vulnerable. And then you and I and my fleet will swoop in and vanquish the tyrannical hag.”

His hands landed on your knees and slowly slid upward.

It took everything in you not to cringe. “And…we’ll rule together?”

“Of course.” His eyes burned. “The people already love you, their Princess in the Tower. They sing songs about you in the taverns. And I’m the War Hero who fought off a Tyranid invasion!” His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs. “Who would stand against us?”

No one. Until it was too late.

Fighting back waves of revulsion, you leaned forward and ran your hands up his chest. How frail it felt compared to your betrothed’s! You watched your cousin’s face twist with lust.

Forgive me, Roboute.

You kissed Victor.

He snarled into your mouth, his teeth catching your lips and drawing blood. His hands dug into your hair. You felt yourself slammed backward, your head knocking against the chair’s hard frame. 

Your cousin took no care with your body. He pawed and tore, aggravating your bruises and cuts, without a thought for your pleasure. Nausea threatened to overwhelm you. You heard the fabric of your bodice rip.

“What the Void is this?!”

All of a sudden you were dragged from the chair and thrown to the floor. Victor stood above you, mad rage in his eyes. He jabbed a finger toward your shoulder.

The shoulder Roboute had sunk his teeth into on your last night together.

“You whore! You damned slut!” Victor’s boot met your ribs with a crack.

You folded in on yourself, arms wrapping about your head.

“You spread your legs for that… freak?!” Your cousin straddled you, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking your head back. “You think I’d let you rule beside me? A stupid little scrap of used flesh like you?”

He pressed his mouth close to your ear. “I don’t need a consort. I just need a working womb. Remember that, bitch.”

With a final curse, he slammed your head against the carpeted floor and stalked out of the room. You heard the door lock behind him.

For a long while you lay there, letting the pain ricochet around your body before finally fading into a dull throb. You knew how to take a beating. Light knew, you’d taken more than your fair share.

Your split lips stretched in a smile as you gazed down at the gold and sapphire ring in the palm of your hand.

Pray the Light has mercy on your soul, Victor. For he will not.

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[yanagikou]

He is finally done! The Night Haunter aka Konrad Curze.

This is my first fully digitally colored piece (so pls be nice)

Warning: blood and gore and suggestive, so minors, pls stay away.

Also, there is an alternative version, which you can find on my bluesky, without the feather cloak 🫣

[lieshelest]

I bet that the perfect partners for Konrad, Sanguinius, and Magnus would be some tarot girl, but with some nuanses.

Konrad: he will die, I'm just saying

Girlie: of course he will. He has a latent syphilis. My cards never lie me about such things

***

Girlie *is mixing her tarot*

Sanguinius: I don't think that this maid deserves your attention, sunshine. Come here *hugs her warmly*

***

Magnus *raising his eyes from his cards*: we shouldn't judge...

Girlie *also raising her eyes from her cards*: but we will talk about

Primarch political marriage AU where the Emperor attempts to make the primarchs care more about humanity by forcing them to get married. Thankfully, they're allowed to pick their own consort and because Big E can't do anything without being extremely extra (and because it's an excellent way to generate a hell of a lot of good press), there's going to be an elaborate series of parties to display the best that the imperium can offer in the way of potential mates.

Feat.

- the entire Death Guard becoming the Mortarion Primping Squad (led by Typhon) in the hope that getting laid might cheer Mortarion up

-Fulgrim fully understanding the assignment and DOMINATING the entire first night. He really doesn't want to have to pick another wife, though.

-Dorn becoming absolutely fascinated with shapewear- he hadn't ever thought that clothing could be engineered like that before.

-Ferrus Manus trying to hide against the wall, since he has no idea how to talk to women

-Konrad Curze is strangely popular, and gets more popular after he starts predicting the deaths of anyone who dares approach him- the girlies love some fortune telling

-Bobby G calling his mom to ask for advice on how to woo women

-Magnus becoming dejected that women don't flock around him like Fulgrim and Sanguinius. He hasn't put it together that it's because he keeps being a giant nerd about magic and no one has any idea what he's talking about.

-Perturabo is determined to be married before Dorn, so he's brought in Caliphonie to help him pick what to wear. He proceeds to ignore her advice about how to actually win over women.

-Lion getting dancing lessons from Luthor

-the imperial press being flooded with augmented pictures and bios of the primarchs, all to make them seem like romantic heroes. The imperial press in general is just out of control the entire time...

-Malcador really wishing he told the Emperor that this is His worst idea yet

-the Alpha legion getting in a lot of cross-dressing practice.

-Leman Russ refusing to marry any woman who cannot wrestle him to the floor. He doesn't care that they're all baseline humans, any woman worthy of bearing his children should be strong!

-the Mournival taking bets on who's going to get married second (because obviously Horus is going to be the first)

-Sanguinius getting overwhelmed by the amount of attention he is receiving and cocoons himself in his wings at some point in the night. He refuses to come out, even for snacks.

-Lorgar doing well until he tries the whole 'God is telling me that you're my wife' line.

-Horus using the worst pickup lines imaginable and getting away with it.

-Vulkan being delighted by the chance to do something that's not war related for once. He has an absolute blast dancing, although he might be a little too enthusiastic.

- Corvus trying to escape and having to be dragged back into the party by the custodes (under the Emperor's explicit command)

-Jaghati showing up with a whole-ass herd of horses to prove his fitness as a mate

-Magnus is the sluttiest-dressed in the entire room, scandilizing Lion and Lorgar. He even pierced his nipples for the occasion.

[ahriajin]

[⚜️] Welcome to this "family reunion"

{Canon x Oc}

[Roboute Guilliman x Rena Caeruleun]

A family dinner between the primarchs and the emperor, which surprisingly did not go well at all.

Roboute Guilliman thought it was a good idea to bring his fiancée and astropath.

Roboute Guilliman regretted bringing his fiancée. . .

Fulgrim is making eyes at Roboute Guilliman's fiancée

If this is my oc, and I'm a little embarrassed to show her with a colored sketch, talking a little about her, she got engaged at an early age to Roboute, knowing each other from an early age, but in the end they never ended up getting married, although they are still engaged, She is the daughter of a noble family from the Ultramar region, Tarasha liked her at first, compared to the other young girls they had seen, she at least did not look so pretentious and forced.

If you want to know a little more about her, I will gradually upload some drawings of her as well.

I hope you liked it, you know you can reblog, like and follow me if you want to keep seeing my silly drawings ✨💕

[green-square-anon]

@lemon-russ @ms--lobotomy @beckyninja

Utterly heretical thought that probably (and in the latter option definetly) isn't that realistic but I love irony. Either in a show of Konrad Curzes beloved being a supremely good person or due to a Konrad Curze redemption arc, where his canonical low casualty rates allowing him to easially save more lives than he ever took, essentially becoming the only primarch with a "negative harm score" + his sense of justice making him extra pious or whatever.. Either:

a: Konrad Curze is married to a living saint

b: Konrad Curze himself becomes a living saint.

Canocially he at some point wonders if in an alternate universe could have been "like the angel" if he had been stronger. Well here's your wings buddy lmfao. Would it be some ansgty black feathered wings or do we get Curze with glowing white wings? (lol at him being bothered by the glow of his own wings).

I don't think sangy would have a villain arc. But if sangy did give into some minor flaw while seing Konrad do good, Sanguinius would worry about them switching places.

[reclusiarch-orm]

I used to hate this guy. And I knew it was not gonna last because it never does. If i hate something on sight, you can bet 500 dollar it will be beloved in a year. alas he is as handsome as the rest of them

[meangreennunseen]

Remembered that one post of how Ultramarines would just flock to assist their pregnant Legion Mother en masse just like herd animals they are and I raise you:

Thousand Sons doing same, but instead of mass assistance they follow her examining her as rare animal species.

Heavily pregnant Legion Mother feeling she is followed, only to turn around to see like seven Thousand Sons astartes trying awkwardly hide behind a pillar which is smaller than their entire band. One peeks his head out before hastily ducking back. There is murmuring and another peak from other side. When she hears scribbling on the paper and sees few more heads awkwardly peak. One of the Sons waves awkwardly.

[frythebrains]

[nightghoulz]

Headcanons for the Primarchs and tattoos

I’ve wanted to do this for a bit! Some are stereotypical. Some are my guesswork if it’s characters I don’t know as much on. :’)

Lion El’Jonson: oh fuck every time this guy comes up I’m clueless. Like I just know he’s secretive. I’m sorry to the big Lion fans. I either want to be funny and say he has a lion/clock/rose thing or somewhat serious and say a star map of some sort. Or something with a hidden meaning. Someone else can probably give him something better than I can lol.

Fulgrim: His wing pauldron thing is on him in some way, folded over his shoulder. Also has a snake somewhere on him, arm or a leg. Maybe both! He also gets the same tat as my OC so laurel wreath on his collarbones. Fulgrim also has a matching tattoo with Ferrus. It’s something smaller, like a little heart or smiley face on an ankle or wrist. His are all perfectly done with a ton of love put into them.

Perturabo: I don’t know him as well, but he probably has something for Calliphone. A flower or something more ‘delicate’ hidden on his chest so no one else sees it. Has those cool cybernetic sleeve things. I’d want to say the ruler tattoo on his thumb as well, but Dorn has that same one so they can argue over who was first.

Jaghatai Khan: Totally has a super decked out sleeve with all his legion symbols and meaningful things to him. Also probably has American traditional and/or wabori (or anything more bold like that) just for the fun of it.

Leman Russ: Huge wolf back piece I’m so sorry. But it’s really well done. I like making fun of him. Also has those Nordic runes on him. Maybe a moon as well but a certain someone else will get that too.

Rogal Dorn: I think he’d be really into it. I’m not sure if tattoos hurt primarchs, but this could be like his pain glove but more artistic. Someone talked him into it at some point and it stuck. I see him having sentimental things for the family that raised him as well as his legion. Also has some blueprints or functional thing. Has the same ruler tattoo as Perty which causes fights. I think it would be awesome if he’s just covered in them near the end.

Konrad Curze: oh no. I could make fun of him so much but he’s free (for now). I don’t think it’d be a huge focus for him, he has much bigger issues, but he’d have his legions symbol (skull with bat wings) on his chest, just like his armor. Probably has a few more things in the macabre style to cover up anything he’s impulsively done to himself cause idk what happens in those visions. Also they look cool as fuck so it’s cool for the sake of cool.

Sanguinius: Laurel wreath carefully by the base of his wings. Detailed tattoos that look almost like pretty jewelry draped over his shoulders. Everything is symmetrical. And since I heard he took the time to meet every one of his sons, he gladly shares a more symbolic thing with them. Also wondering if his blood would spread his gene flaw around lol (probably not but whatever) so every time it’s super sanitized.

Ferrus Manus: Dude has some cool hands that can change shape so I’ve decided that he can also make them have engravings. So he gets some cool engravings on his forearms/hands that are basically metal tattoos. As for the rest of him, there’s some callbacks to his favorite projects. Probably has a dagger or hammer or something on his back. Matching little heart or smiley with Fulgrim of course.

Angron: Are his red markings on his face tattooed on? I think they are painted but it would be cool if they were tattooed. As well as other marks like them on the rest of him. If he has a more artistic thing, it’s that stereotypical skull and smoke and knives sleeve that every character that serves gets lol. Maybe it would be a distraction from the nails.

Roboute Guilliman: He also has the laurel wreaths since I never ever see him without them. They get to be a tramp stamp since that’s fun. He’s too busy for a lot of this. Has the Latin/high gothic ribbons on him, also probably his collarbones and symmetrical. If any of his sons are bald enough, maybe they get the laurels on the sides of their heads (totally stealing that for a character later) as another badge of honor.

Mortarion: still don’t know him as well so perhaps I’ll just be stereotypical again and give him a bunch of skulls and stuff. Since he’s a smartie too, he has those things tied in as well. Like what plants kill people in a bundle. Maybe those snapdragons that look like emo skulls.

Magnus the Red: nerd ha ha. Okay for realsies, he has cool sorcerer spell stuff on him. And then some in the style of ancient Egyptian art (think hieroglyphics) that you’d see on monuments and tombs. He’s like a monument himself tbh. They look almost like jewelry at points.

Horus Lupercal: This is the astrology dude that has the moon phase tramp stamp or stereotypical spine moon one. His Mournival all some some variation of this too lol. Aside from that, like Lion, has star maps on his skin. Maybe they are subtle. They track his journey through the Great Crusade. Imagine tracing the paths between them (maybe I’ll have to write my first fic later uhhh whoops Ive given myself an idea!)

Lorgar Aurelian: dude is already decked out. There’s no space. He went bald for more space. If he does have space, he gets the gold laurels somewhere too.

Vulkan: bones. Either the dragon skull on his shoulder or something else, but it’s like a whole dig site. Also has flames going up his forearms and they seem to magically glow.

Corvus Corax: emo raven ha ha. But for real, everything with him is some poetic reference. He has a raven, but what is it holding or where is it looking? Towards East where the sun rises for fresh starts? What do the symbols on his arms mean?

Alpharius/Omegon: the tattoos seem to never stay the same. There’s always some slight difference, almost like it’s more than one person…. A line is slightly more jagged on the serpent monster up the arm.

Okay that took me an hour and I’m left with a bunch of ideas now.

[tagedeszorns]

'Perhaps I must if the lesson was not learned properly,' Ari'i snapped back. 'What you say, the flesh is weak, is only part of the saying. In forgetting the end you have lost the meaning. Vulkan said it in praise of Ferrus Manus, after the One Hundred and EightyFourth Expedition when our Legions jointly liberated the orkdominated worlds of the Shoxua Cluster. The fighting had been fiercer than anything we had expected. Your primarch said in jest that his arm was tired from killing so many orks, and Vulkan retorted with 'the flesh is weak, but deeds endure'. It was a celebration of what they had achieved, and a remark that even primarchs can die but what they do will last beyond their lifespan. It was a message of humility, not condemnation. Flesh is weak because it knows it must come to an end, and so we must rise about the concerns of flesh and leave a legacy that others will be proud to inherit. Ferrus Manus understood that. He was a harsh master, an unforgiving ally, but he was also a maker of things a builder, not a destroyer.'

From: Shattered Legions

😍 Vulkan!

[green-square-anon]

So a little thing: I've mentioned before how Konrad Curze was a virgin prior to meeting his beloved (all primarchs I write about are really for kink reasons). But they have a healthy relationship. His first time is actually healthy, affectionate, loving. He dosen't have many positive "rites of passage" but atleast he has this. This occurs to both of them and might even be something they discuss. Well it almost certainly would be at some point, but it might even be something discussed in the immideate aftermath.

@lemon-russ @ms--lobotomy @beckyninja

[kit-williams]

I NEEED THIS

😈

[magicalduck21]