#hammer of heresy

[guerrilla-operator]

Fatal Realm // Hammer Of Heresy (feat. Cross Of Disbelief)

Call forth Call forth Call forth to the ones beyond the gate To instill balance Chants grow for the fallen one’s fate To instill balance Foe, time to die Call forth to the ones beyond the gate Melting existence cold winds vanish I shall become a vision of pure fire Sacrifice blood filled chalice Visions of fire thou begs to escape Cross Fools led to their enemy god Awaiting their beliefs to die Cries go unanswered they plead for mercy To face slaughter by the hammer of heresy Call forth to the ones beyond the gate

[tagedeszorns]

We have a loving author for Emperor's Children again! This is not a drill!

Spoilers for "Eidolon - The Auric Hammer"! Of course.

I have finished "Eidolon - The Auric Hammer" and I am in awe! Marc Collins may not yet be a new Josh Reynolds, but if he continues to write Emperor's Children-stuff he is on the best way to get there!

Hoo-fuckin'-ray!! Finally!

Go, read that book! Bask in cool characters! Enjoy Fulgrim being the best/worst dad! Squeal with joy as Eidolon goes full on Fabius and attacks daddy both verbally and physically (I'm not joking - Fabius would kiss Eidolon on the mouth for this!). Have fun with a shitton of innuendo!

Yes, I am euphoric.

I'm not saying it's the perfect novel. There's still a lot of "depravity" and "betrayal"-stuff. There's too much boring, repetitive filler-violence. The antagonists and side-characters are way too flat. But those are minor flaws. Collins does a great and admirable job with Eidolon and that's what counts. He adds some flesh to Von Kalda's bones (yep, pretty Apothecary-boytoy is back!) and he tries his best with the Kakophoni.

‘Perhaps…’ Eidolon forced the words out. ‘We are all the products of fathers who cared too little until it was too late.’ Fulgrim’s hand snapped up and seized Eidolon’s hair, yanking his head back with such fury that vertebrae ground against one another. Eidolon hissed with pain. The primarch didn’t flinch, instead leaning closer to savour the discharge of power. ‘Impressive…’ he whispered, so close that only Eidolon could hear him.

Yes, all is well now. I just wish I could tell to Marc Collins how much I love that book.

[moodymisty]

Just had a thought for a cute fic request. What if Lady Guilliman catches some nobles/inquisitors/clerics complaining about and insulting her husband behind his back, and just goes off on them. "How dare you! He's doing a fantastic job!" And what if Guilliman overhears his usually patient, even-tempered wife vehemently defending him? Just a sweet, supportive spouse moment. Because that man desperately needs it.

I know you're probably overwhelmed with requests right now, so I just want to encourage you to relax and take your time. No rush. We're grateful for whatever you give us, whenever you decide to give it.

Author’s note: Something short and sweet, and a bit funny XD

Relationship: Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None really

You aren't entirely paying attention to the conversation at hand, drifting in and out of interest until there's a moment that catches you again.

"I just worry about his, lack of interest."

You can infer by the quieter tone- the way they emphasize he - that they're referring to Guilliman. It's then that you realize that while these deacons and pontifices know that you are under the banner of the Ultramarines for your duty, they do not know your close relation to Guilliman at all.

"He had the cherubs removed,"

Another deacon says, her voice a hushed whisper. Your eyes dart between them all to feign interest so they'll keep speaking grievances in your company.

"I heard from one of the priests that he doesn't even allow them to say the armoring rights when he dawns his armor!"

You will admit you found that odd, at first. Then over time Guilliman has explained to you the galaxy he came from wasn't like this, and you understand now that the vehement nature of the current Imperium's worship over the Emperor is not something he has wished for.

He would've hated this. This galaxy now spits on the ideas he created us for. This all would've disgusted him.

You wish you could understand what he meant, but, it's the Emperor. Even you struggle to think about him not being seen as a god.

"What is going to happen if we allow a man who borders the line of heresy like this to lead us?"

You clench your fists, and open your mouth to speak unable to hold your tongue any longer.

"Lord Guilliman?"

The primarch looks up at the Ultramarine who approaches. His face seems, apprehensive? He nods at the man to continue speaking.

"Your lady has gotten into a fight with some of the Ecclesiarchy's deacons. They have begun to issue accusations of heresy at her in return."

Guilliman finds himself walking towards the marine sooner than he'd expected. The surprise of this, let alone that you are involved- and possibly in no shortage of trouble - is not something that he had expected.

"Where is this happening?"

Guilliman had known you would probably come into contact with the deacons at some point, but a fight? He rushes behind the Ultramarine through the halls, and soon hears your voice.

"If you are so upset over his choices, how about you just tell him yourself!"

Guilliman steps into the room and sees you pointing down a pontifice, face twisted with anger. You are spouting insults, some of which he has never heard before; Though he's sure by the expressions of surprise and anger on each of the deacons and pontifices faces that they are not insults used by the faint of heart.

"You all seem quite eager to accuse him of heresy, but you do know you're accusing the Lord Regent, correct? What does that make you if you're wrong?"

The pontifice at your center attention purses his lips and recoils, as his own vehement faith is thrown back at him.

"I suggest you all shut your mouths and let the Primarch who walked beside The Emperor himself decide what is best for all of us."

The primarch stands back for a few moments longer than he thought he would, watching you. The way you have defended him so vehemently, most would simply allow them to spout their lies before skittering away; To avoid the hammer of a institution so powerful as the Ecclesiarchy.

While it is most important to prevent you from getting into trouble, he can't help but feel... Prideful. He is not used to being the one defended.

Guilliman approaches before anyone decides to escalate things any further. Once the deacons notice him they quickly shut up, and you turn to look up at him in surprise.

"My men told me you all had gotten into an argument," He looks down at you. "Your shouting has given me all the context I believe I need."

Your mouth stays firmly shut as Guilliman turns to the others, and you wonder what the consequences of your outburst will be.

"I suggest you all learn to keep your muckraking to yourself. Or bring it up with me, if you're so bold as to accuse me of heresy." Guilliman nods in the direction away from him.

"Leave."

They waste no time in doing so, not forgoing proper farewells before shuffling away with tails between their legs. Guilliman has had more than his fair share of issues with them as they skitter around the Macragge's Honour, so he's eager to shoo them back into their rat holes for a bit longer. Once gone, Guilliman turns to you.

"You, have an even bigger mouth than I thought."

You raise your eyebrows at him and try not to laugh; It takes Guilliman a second to understand why and his face warms and wrinkles.

"That is not what I meant."

He shakes his head and continues his earlier thought without your inappropriate interruption.

"You cannot be getting into such big fights with these men and women. They have significant power."

He takes a kneel, putting his hands to your jawline.

"I, appreciate you defending my honor. But I do not need it. Do not waste your effort on the likes of them." You smile and nod.

"I will try but, no promises."

Guilliman leans forward and kisses your forehead.

"In this modern day, that is good enough."

[shiyorin]

#Horny Ferrus in your area 

#Ferrus Manus x F!Reader

#All is his delulu

#NSFW, Horny Heresy, Delulu, from poipiku...

Ferrus Manus sighed heavily as he facepalmed, the iron-hard plates of his hands making an echoing clang against his brow ridges. Once again, he found himself utterly consumed by the most disgraceful thoughts and impulses.

He cast a sidelong glance at the anatomically precise... accessory he had painstakingly crafted for his own indulgence. It lay before him, a rendered facsimile of your own intimate petals fashioned with the most advanced printing technologies the Imperium could provide. Every crease and fold, each subtlety of texture and suppleness meticulously recreated to serve as the most exquisite self-pleasuring aid imaginable.

Just the sight of it caused his already stiffening arousal to throb with need. He could so vividly envision hilting himself to the root within that snug, yielding embrace. Sheathing his aching length in the sumptuous slick heat, snugly enveloped... savoring every undulating flex and silken ripple as he drove relentlessly into the clinging depths...

A low, ragged growl vibrated from deep within his chest. Slowly, as if drawn by an irresistible current, he reached down to curl one iron fist around his rapidly engorging girth. Just a few rough strokes of his calloused grasp was all it took for him to thicken and harden to his fullest, most excruciatingly swollen state.

Molten lust blazed through his veins as the first pearly droplets welled forth from the cock. His jaw clenched as he finally surrendered to temptation, snatching up the lifelike 'toy' to hover the open, flushed entrance just a hairsbreadth away from his quivering tip.

A harsh sound caught between a grunt and a groan tore from his throat as he began to ease forward, breaching the sleek, dewy lips with his ponderous girth. They parted in a deliciously bloom to accept his invasion with eager welcome, flowery folds stretching taut as satin around his engorged crown.

Bolt after agonizing bolt of electric rapture speared up his spine as inch after delicious inch was slowly engulfed in heavenly, suctioning friction. He could feel every last microscopic detail wringing blissful sensation from him, the sumptuous swirl of rippling texture, the incredible heated clutch fluttering and convulsing with each shallow thrust...

Ferrus braced his stance and gripped the quivering toy with both hands before beginning to hammer forward in a blur of piston-like thrusts. The sharp crack of flesh meeting fake flesh punctuated each slick, squelching impact as he rapidly built up.

A guttural moan split the air as he surrendered to the slipstream of rapture, hips pistoning forward with pile-driver force. The graphic sounds of his own lusty despoilment washed over him in a tide of shameful bliss. Scorching jets of semen forth to slick his throbbing, plunging cock with every fresh vulgar thrust.

But... something was unmistakably, achingly absent. 

For all the craftsmanship, the exacting detail and attention lavished to create this sleek, perfect imitation... it remained merely a lewd copy of the true awaiting him. As skilled as his maker's touch had been in rendering it, the piece ultimately failed to capture that most crucial, most profoundly transcendent aspect he truly craved.

Those lithe, limbs that could coil about his bulk with tantalizing grace, beckoning and beseeching. Your soft hair to tangle his hand within as he hilted himself fully, plunging to the root through the untold bliss of your silken depths. Your serene, flushed countenance shattering with unconstrained rapture as moaning of pleasure rent the air while he claimed you with all the unchecked of his primarch stature.

Even as his own motions grew more frantic and the inexorable crest built within him, Ferrus knew the ultimate rapture eluded him. He imagined your voice in his mind, soft like smoky as you urged him on with cries of enraptured abandon. The idea alone of your surrender, of being the one to undo that imperturbable composure while you came undone beneath him drove him ever closer to the edge.

He arched his back and began to harder his hips with more force. It was so good, so sublime... but it was not enough. Never enough. It could never capture what he truly hungered for. Not mere flesh and texture and sensation... but the soul-rending, and primal ecstasy of truly becoming one.

With a harsh moaning, he finally crested release and felt the scalding flood erupt forth from his core. His hips snapped forward with brutal force, ramming to the root once, twice, three times more as pulse after pulse of hot, thick seed erupted in gushing torrents from his juddering cock.

As the final ebb washed over him, he slumped forward. A deep sound somewhere between a growl and a weary sigh gusted from his lips. His hips offered only shallow, weakening motions as he coasted through the aftershocks. Hot ropes dangled obscenely linking his pulsing erection with the dripping toy.

He glanced down to see his cock still remained at half-mast despite his recent exertions, flushed and heavy with the first smoldering embers of rekindled lust.

A harsh sound caught between a gutting and a groan tore from his throat as he ground one unyielding fist against the aching swell. It would not be long before the fever consumed him once more…

[neechees]

A lot of what people say about witches is just inaccurate

People in the "dark ages" or middle ages didn't really care about witches the way media make them out to, they didn't believe people could do magic or do devil worship because they thought only God could make things magically happen. In a way, they thought witches didn't really exist because their magic didn't work, so they weren't much of a concern. It was even pretty common for medieval people to do little superstitious practices and "magic" without issue.

Medieval people (besides like, the nobility) would not give a shit if you spent a lot of time in or lived in the woods, they would think you were foraging, hunting, or gathering wood (which was allowed jf you paid tribute to the Lord/King, but obvi sometimes ppl just did it anyway), OR if anything, think you were a criminal: it was common for gangs to hang out in the woods to avoid being caught & punished and because they were going against the Forest Laws, that's where the trope of Robin Hood & his Merry men living in the forest comes from.

Most people were not burned for witch craft, they were hung. Burning was for heresy,

A shitton of people targeted for being "witches" were people who weren't Christian (Jewish people & Muslims) and/or not White (same as earlier, and Native Americans & Black people). This is because, along with the other stupid beliefs of what witches allegedly do or how you can "tell" someone is a witch came from the book The Hammer of The Witches which was made by a Christian dude who used a lot of antisemitic (like blood libel, a lot of beliefs about witches comes from antisemitism) & Islamophobic stereotypes as well as random shit he made up. So the idea of witches mostly started during the Tudor era, and then witch hunts REALLY revved up again specifically because of that guy. This Jewish youtuber goes over it in this video.

Like I hate to be that guy but you would not be called a "witch" for doing some very normal things and you are not the "daughter of witches they couldn't burn" because they didn't burn witches in the first place, and a lot of the people persecuted for supposed witch craft themselves were pointing fingers at others for being "witches"

[lazywriter-artist]

Gehehehe dw dw dw I have a way with the old men just ask yarrick- 💥💥💥

Even if other lazy hates when I talk about my old man rizz (rizz on old men—)

Okay I couldn’t not post it bc I find it way too funny not to so here it is

(Audio having version of this post)

[tanadrin]

@afloweroutofstone

The “Catholic trinitarianism = polytheism” meme has always struck me as a misreading of Catholic theology It’s just monotheism with extra steps

sorry, the muslims and jews are right about this one. trinitarianism is the kind of nonsense you get when a bureaucratic committee is given the task of hammering out how jesus can be divine but not god but also there's only one god; the fact it is so easy to fall into heresy when dealing with christology (is jesus an aspect of god? modalism. heresy! is jesus created by god rather than "proceeding" from him, whatever that means? arianism. heresy! are the persons distinct beings united in one "will"? mormonism. heresy!) isn't because christology/trinitarianism is philosophically subtle, it's because it's incoherent.

but it was enforced as a dogma by state-backed religious authorities long enough to take root, and when the peasants asked how this could possibly be true the priest could say, "it's a mystery, you have to have faith, now shut up." but "one god existing in three distinct, consubstantial persons, who are each fully god" one of whom is furthermore "fully human and fully divine" is literally nested oxymorons.

it's like the eucharist being both really the body of christ and also chemically indistinguishable from bread; that people believe this is a demonstration of both the power of religious authorities and adherents' willingness to signal in-group membership, it's not a coherent metaphysical claim.

in practical terms there are social and formal consequences to the doctrine of the trinity that make christianity resemble other monotheistic religions in many important ways--this is why i categorize christianity as "less monotheistic" but not fully polytheistic--but it also resembles polytheism in many important ways! well, catholicism and eastern orthodoxy even more than protestantism, but that's in part because of the whole saints thing, which is a totally different bag of worms.

[dingodad]

What's the deal with the obscure cult thing

the trolls' introductions give us an outline of each troll's position in their society. we have to remember that, at the point of the trolls' introduction, the caste system was only kind of just starting to be born as a concept. gamzee's introduction on p. 2012, where we get the "You belong to a RATHER OBSCURE CULT" line, comes a whole 70 pages before we even get this exchange:

GC: SOLLUX, PL34S3 / GC: YOU 4R3 MR 4PPL3B3RRY BL4ST 4ND 3V3RYON3 KNOWS THOS3 4R3 YOUR F4VOR1T3 FL4VORS / GC: 3V3N THOUGH YOU TYP3 1N YUCKY MUST4RD / GC: WH1CH 1S W31RD >:\ TA: maybe there ii2 more two me than you thiink. [...] maybe ii ju2t want two giive the red and blue thiing a re2t for a change and not make iit 2o iit2 liike, oh look iit2 that prediictable fuck wiith tho2e two 2tupiid color2, iit2 amaziing how much everyone fuckiing hate2 hiim.

of which Hussie has this to say in the published commentary (Book 4, p. 101):

Terezi says it's weird that Sollux types in yucky mustard, even though his "favorite colors" are red and blue. It's really not weird at all, considering literally everyone in his blood class types in that color. But this idea may not have been fully locked in yet as an ironclad canon fact. While Hivebent continuously provides the scoop on what the facts of this culture are, it is simultaneously exploring certain nebulous ideas before fully committing to them. This is a very good strategy when it comes to improvisational worldbuilding.

when Gamzee's cult is described as "obscure", it makes no sense to interpret this as meaning "obscure within his caste", because the caste idea wasn't even fully formed in the author's mind at that point in time, let alone the reader's. what that line is saying is that Gamzee's cult is obscure within his society. and everyone seems to ignore the very sentence after that comment, which says exactly what i'm saying, almost explicitly:

The beliefs of this cult are SOMEWHAT FROWNED UPON by those dwelling in more common lawnrings.

Gamzee's beliefs are strange to commoners. the very clear implication being that among the upper echelons of Alternian society, being a juggalo isn't that frowned upon at all! sometimes Hussie leaves things unsaid about the world of Homestuck because they're not important or to deliberately leave them up to interpretation, but quite often things go unsaid because when you read between the lines they really should speak for themselves. the fact that Alternia's upper castes are more and more uncommon is one of these things (but to drive the point home, there's this comment from Formspring: "lower classes must be much more copious than higher classes. The lowbloods die off much more quickly, and so must be spawned in greater numbers.").

it's odd that this particular "obscure cult" line has become a sticking point, because Kanaya's intro does the exact same thing when it describes her as "one of the few of [her] kind who can withstand the BLISTERING ALTERNIAN SUN, and perhaps the only who enjoys the feel of its rays." we all seem to understand that this isn't claiming daywalking as a unique power of Kanaya's, but merely hinting at the fact that Kanaya is part of a rare caste with that ability. I guess many don't make the comparison because Gamzee's caste is never explicitly singled out as a rare one?

from there, what limited background we do get on the Alternian regime hammers home the point. "subjugglator" (this has the word juggalo in it. a lot of people try to get out of this one) and "Highblood" are used as functional synonyms in Scratch's intermission:

p. 4054: The highbloods were livid over the unprecedented heresy, and soon, a massive sectarian war followed, spreading across the planet and throughout the galaxy. The conflict was lopsided of course, with the Highbloods given full support from the Condesce and her sea dwellers. p. 4063: [the Condesce] could use her leverage to delegate oppression to the subjugglators, whose unique abilities and exceptional brutality made them natural enforcers. They too would delegate in their governance, exploiting the pride and loyalty of dangerous bluebloods beneath them...

the fact that the guy literally called The Grand Highblood is a massive clown is basically garnish; but the fact that the word Highblood with a capital H, even outside of the context of Gamzee's ancestor, was basically used exclusively to refer to purplebloods in the comic seems to have been largely forgotten. this only continues into Act 6, even when a lot of the fandom's misconceptions and reconceptions of the lore started to seep into the comic proper:

You're not really up on Alternian history, but apparently at some point the empress got fed up with the Subjugglators' stranglehold on the soda market, and released a drink that was said to be more loaded with sugar than even the wicked elixir itself. The Highbloods considered such marketing reports to be blasphemous lies, however. (Act 6 Intermission 1, part 2)

emphasis all my own, to make clear that basically no distinction is made between Highbloods as a political institution and the subjugglators as a religious authority. but really, Act 6 is when the whole clown thing should have started to become really obvious, anyway, with lines like "There was this sense that [the Condesce] just loved the idea of delegating the extreme subjugation of the world's population to a pair of demented clown rappers" and the increasing inescapability of Lord English's influence on the story only entrenching that the presence of these juggalos on Alternia had real significance and was not some one off joke.

years ago when it was at its peak, the idea that the subjugglators "were only ever meant to be an obscure cult" seemed to me to have originated among troll enthusiasts who dropped off the comic around Scratch's takeover and didn't really care for overarching plot points like Lord English taking prominence into Act 6. but I guess now that troll discussion has started to center the design process that went into the Hiveswap trolls, the argument has circled back around into the mainstream? but basically to answer your question the deal with the obscure cult thing is that it's bogus. people wanted to make fantrolls who weren't juggaloes because what they fundamentally forget is that a race of juggalos controlling alternia is actually meant to be, and is, really fucking funny

[thevoidscreams]

Hello!

I would like to see something with Mortarion. Pre heresy when he's feeling unloved as he's not quite living up to the emperor's vision for him. He's supposed to be the second strongest Psycher of the Primarchs yet he Refuses to use his power.

Even pre monster form I've always loved the idea that Mortarion is gardener/herbalist in his spare time. Collecting plants from conquered worlds and giving them a home in a personal green house of sorts.

A servant who is commonly sent to give him messages/retrieve him when needed strikes up a bond with him over his eclectic garden.

They marvel at his plant expertise and abilities. They give him an outlet to talk about his special interest in detail. They support his passions and even offer understanding about why he's uncomfortable using his magic.

Overtime spent in that humid greenhouse, both start to feel it, the attraction. The brief glances or gentle brushes of hands as they talk and work in unison.

Mortarion has never really felt anything like this. And so strongly! It frightens him. Frightens him because he fears chasing this small glimmer of happiness away if he oversteps.

But oh...Oh he dreams of the alternative. Of bodies pressed into intimate warmth, of kisses stolen quickly or bitten ravenously while he towers over his sweet one. It feels like he can barely control himself, and it's only getting worse.

Little does he know his little honey bee is already swooned to him, but they too fear overstepping. They're a baseline human, and Mortarion is a demigod like figure. He'd never view them in such a way.

They shall be content being his mortal confidant, his sidekick so to speak. They've even acquired a special gift for him to show their care (and sooth the heartache for a love that they believe will never be.) A beautiful floral specimen from their own home world. In their world's language of flowers these blooms represent eternal devotion and love.

Its a subtle way to confess their feelings, and also find closure. After all they're certain Mortarion doesn't know their planet's flower language.

... Now what happens when he turns out he Does.

(For making press March if its not clear. You do great stuff btw okay byyyyyy)

Day thirteen!!!

Pairing Mortarion x reader

Warnings: Sex, first-time sex for Mort, and two idiots in love.

Mortarion stared down at the pots in front of him. His hearts hammering in his massive chest.

The plant's colorful petals shine especially bright among the other plants. They were gifts after all that made they special. Even among all the strange and alien plants he’d gathered over the years.

He’d collected you much the same way, once nothing more than a go for, a messenger who he enjoyed seeing. Until he could no longer bear to see you go, wondering when he would see you next. If he ever saw you again at all. So he took you, just as he did his plants. Pulling rank to have you reassigned to his conservatory. Where you’d expressed a good deal of knowledge about plants. He was certain it had been the right move as you had seemed to grow into the role naturally.

He’d even made changes for you. Something he’d done for no others. Such as adding several water features with live animals. It made the place hum with new life. Mortarion would watch you buzz from one task to another, bust like a bee. It was how he took to calling you his honeybee. His sweet little bee.

As he pondered, the last words you spoke to the primarch bounced around his head.

‘They reminded me of you when I saw them.’ You said, offering him the gifts. His hands brushing yours not so accidentally as he took them. Lingering a moment longer than was strictly necessary.

‘Is that so?’

‘Yep.’

‘And why is that?’

Your cheeks had tinged pink with a blush and it made him smile under his mask.

‘They just have a nice meaning.’ You told him quickly and ducked away to go prune some fruit trees.

His mind raced, a blue orchid, and a red rose. His mind pulled up the meaning of these plants but he was sure he must have misremembered. He’d gone to his study to find his old book about gifting plants and the symbolism of the colors and species.

He hadn’t misremembered. In fact he’d been spot on.

Orchids, the book had said, were a flower that could be symbolized by love, desire and sexuality. But could also be symbols of good luck, harmony, good health and good fortune. They were blue however. The rarest color form of orchid was blue and they were unique.

On its own the orchid wasn’t a dead give away and he could have pondered the meaning of it for a long time, with still no confidence to act.

But the roses. His hearts fluttered again. Roses had many meanings, all of which had multiple meanings. But red was impossible to mistake when given as a gift. They weren’t the pink of gratitude, or the yellow of friendship or even orange which could mean fascination.

You’d mentioned the meaning specifically when giving them to him.

And red, or at least in rose language, was meant to represent devotion, passion, romance, desire, and true love. It was a lover’s flower. Given to him by the one he loved so ardently it hurt.

He came back to himself as raindrops began to pelt the roof and shake him from his recollection. He stood lifting the potted plants and taking them to a place of prominence in his conservatory. Where all would see them and admire them.

He waited for you to return today. His thumb caressing the petal of the rose. Imagining it was your lip, soft and supple as you lay under his body.

He’d gone without his armor, only a mask to aid in his breathing.

HIs hands reached for a spade as he shook the images of you from his mind.

Instead he focused on his plants and their needs. Caring for them. Just as he would care for you. If you were his.

His mind continued to stir as he continued to plant, turning soil so that his lovely roses would be able to grow into a magnificent bush.

Would your love grow that way? Blooming as it took root and grew into something more.

The door to the flower garden opened and he heard you approach. He wondered if he should find you and confront you about the flowers you’d chosen.

He decided to let you work for a bit. Hoping beyond all hope that he wouldn’t scare you away. You were perhaps his only real chance at love.

He looked up at the glass windows high above and watched as the rain that fell in sheets across the glass.

The rose was planted and watered.

He would go find you now.

You had been trimming dead leaves from a butterfly bush. Helping so that hopefully the new growth would have a chance.

Mortarion had even said that he would let you have some butterflies to liven up the space once he was able to source them.

On the outside he was often grumpy. But inside you knew he was hurting. Despite that he took your help in the conservatory graciously and was kind to you.

Your hand stroked over one of the bicolored flower stocks. The purple and orange enchanting you.

Your mind drifted to the feeling of his hands on yours and the even rarer case of his hand on your back as he sometimes did to direct you.

They were so big, they’d easily be able to hold you. Easily cover your body as he… it felt like your face caught fire it got so warm.

You wished you could have just told him you loved him outright. But if he didn’t feel the same you ran the risk of his sending you away. Of him replacing you as his assistant and maybe.. Falling in love with the next one.

It hurt so bad to think about that you almost dropped your clippers. No, you would give him flowers, and keep the secret of your love in your heart. Where it would grow with every passing day till it consumed your whole self. LIke mint left unchecked, spreading to every corner of the garden that was your body.

“You’re here early.” The sound of his voice shocked you and you did drop your clippers. He reached out and snatched them, lightning quick despite his size. His font was pressed to your back and the heat of Mortarion’s body chased away the chill you’d gotten from the rain coming in.

“Yes. Thank you.” You turned to look up at him, slotting your clippers into your tool belt.. Eyes wide and warm.

“I was hoping to see where you put the plants I gave you.”

Mortarion nodded. “I just finished planting the rose.

HIs hand found its way to your back. GUiding you along and warming you. It felt nice and it made another wave of very unprofessional things come to mind.

He led you to the main display, which had been empty while the primarch decided what he wanted to put there. You gasped when you saw the rose. It was planted in the main display.

“I am still trying to find the best place to put the orchid. But I assure you it will be a main attraction as well. It is too beautiful to be off in some corner. Things that are beautiful should be seen and appreciated.”

His eyes were on you as he said the last part. Of course you didn’t see as you were breathless about how much he had enjoyed the gifts.

Mortarion swallowed and knelt next to you, even then he was an inch taller than you.

“I need to ask you something. And I want you to be honest with me.”

You turned to face him, his yellow green eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah of course Mortarion, what up?” You felt unusually nervous.

“Why did you pick these blooms?” He asked seriously.

You told him you wouldn’t lie.

“If I’m honest with you, and you don’t like my answer..will you make me leave?”

Your eyes got a bit blurry as you pictured going back to your old life. Running messages and being yelled at for things that were in them despite them not being your fault. Or even worse, going back to a life without him. You didn’t want to lose any of what this place had to offer, but losing him might as well have been the same as dying.

“You will not. I promise you. You are far too important here to be rid of without serious cause.”

You nodded, slightly comforted.

“I got them for the meanings they hold.”

“ANd you know what they mean. Do you not?”

“I do.”

Mortarion figured as much, but his hearts were racing, he needed to hear you say it.

“Did you mean it? When you gifted me these plants knowing what they symbolized?”

“I did.” You brushed your hand over your arm. Certain you’d at the very least be laughed at. Who were you to make moves on a primarch of all people? You looked away. Mortarion was trembling.

You meant it. You really meant it.

His finger touched the bottom of your chin and turned you back to face him. His other hand came up to remove his mask. “I love you too.” He said softly.

Your jaw dropped and you were at a loss for words for a moment.

“You do?” You practically shouted.

Mortarion smiled. “I do.”

He took your hands and held them close to his chest. “Will you be mine, Honeybee?”

Your eyes widened and tears of joy dripped from your eyes. “Of course.”

You leaned in and kissed him.

Mortarion wrapped his arms around you. Your lips were every bit as loft and warm as he’d imagined on all those cold and lonely nights.

You stayed in each other’s embrace for a long minute, kissing one another with as the longing you’d both possessed.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.” You told him with a very dopey smile on your lips. Mortarion found himself falling in love all over again as he saw it and met it with one of his own.

“As have I.” the primarch told you.

“Well that and a few other things.” You admitted pressing your forehead to his.

“Such as?” He pressed, wondering if you were as desirous of him as he was of you.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, you supposed.

“Things like feeling your hands on me. Or being laid down on the soft moss carpets in the other room and taken by a big handsome primarch…one like you.”

It was Mortarion’s turn to look at you, jaw dropped.

“Unless you don’t want to or don’t feel that way.” You amended quickly.

Mortarion just chuckled and kissed you again. He’d had that same fantasy, of taking you on the mossy ground next to the main water feature as the high waterfall crashed into the water below swallowing your cries so only he’d be able to hear you.

He pulled away slowly.

“There are many places in this conservatory I’ve daydreamed about teaching you a new way to ‘pollinate’ a flower.”

Your stomach did a little flip and you leaned into him.

“Well I always want to learn more. I’d be happy to learn whatever you will teach me.”

Mortarion stood and scooped you up into his arms. He had just the place.

He’d waited so long to have you. To love you. And now that you were his he was feeling rather uncharacteristically impatient to show you just how much he longed for you.

In the room with a pond of fish he’d had made for you, really he wondered how you hadn’t known he’d loved you sooner, there was an old willow, it was currently in bloom.

He took you under its branches. They draped around the tree like a skirt and completely blocked the view of the trunk from the rest of the room.

Mortarion set you down and kissed you again. “I would like to have you, fully. If that is amiable to you.”

“It is. I’ve had many daydreams under this tree.” You giggled.

“As have I.” He agreed. “I will start this, so that you know what I have to give you, and if it is not to your liking, I will understand.” There was an undeniable air of sadness about the statement but you couldn’t imagine not liking him in any capacity.

He raised his shirt and pulled it off. He was leanly muscled but very defined and your hands immediately went to his chest. He continued with his pants. Pulling them down to reveal his pale body in all its glory.

You were struck by how stark yet beautiful he was, not a single bit of hair on him aside from the long white locks on his head.

He stood waiting for your judgment.

You gave it readily. “You’re beautiful Mortarion. I’ve never seen anything like you. And I don’t think I ever will anywhere else. Your body is perfect to me. In all of its aspects.”

Your hands ran down his form, touching him in a way he’d thought he’d only experience in dreams.

“Then you are not repulsed by me?” The pale giant asked.

“No, I really like it.” You assured him immediately.

You took a step back as he knelt again waiting. Your hands tugging your shirt up, he reached out to unclip your belt of tools, setting them aside. He eyed your chest as you tossed the shirt over with his clothes and began on your pants. Pushing them down.

You were left standing almost naked before him in only a bra and panties.

His hands went to your hips and his mouth found your throat kissing the tender skin and making you shiver with delight.

You hooked your finger into your panties pushing them down and letting them fall.

Mortarion grabbed you, pulling you down into his lap as he sat.

He ran his hands up and down your body learning every curve and dip.

When his hands came back up you back he gently unclipped the bra. You pulled it away. Mortarion drew in a breath. You were the stunning thing in this conservatory, he was certain of that. And you were his, all his to have and hold and love.

He patted his lap. “Turn for me?” You did, sitting with your back to his chest as he reached down to stroke your damp lips. “You're absolutely breathtaking.” He sighed, rubbing the rough pads of his fingers over your impossibly soft pussy. Loving every inch of it as he did.

One finger probed your entrance and, finding it plenty wet, slid the finger in.

The action drew a moan from you and your head fell back on his shoulder. Letting him work. The finger brushed over a few sensitive spots, the primarch was watching, learning from each gasp and adjusting till he had you writhing in his lap from pleasure wrought by his own hands.

Every squeak or sound of satisfaction made him work his hand a bit harder. “I can take another.” You panted, yearning for more of him inside you. He gave it. His ring finger joined the middle and stretched you out more as he continued to observe, halting at any sign of pain, and waiting till you were comfortable before starting again. It was a process of stop and start that had you half mad with need. Once he mistook a sharp inhale of pleasure for pain and you almost screamed not to stop.

Whether he realized it or not his care for you was causing the worst case of edging you’d ever experienced. Drool dripped down from the corner of your mouth. Your head lulled to the side and a soft whine bubbled up from somewhere inside you.

“Please, just like that. Don’t stop.” Mortarion pressed a kiss to your forehead, happy to keep it up.

“How are you feeling my Honeybee?”

“Close.” You told him honestly.

“I want to feel you come.” He peppered a trail of kisses from your face, down your neck and nibbled your shoulder.

That sent you over the edge. You came hard on his fingers, and he worked you through it, steady and comforting.

His finger left you and he brought them up to his lips, he licked the juices off. The flavor made his cock all the harder. You slid from his lap, turning around to face him.

You reached for his cock and he stiffened. No one had touched him this way before.

He knew how this should work. Buth knowing and doing were two separate things.

He watched you stroke his cock curiously. Your eyes fixed on his as you bite your lip. It made him want to jump you. And as nice as it felt to have you touching him, he wanted me.

“I would like to have you, to fill you.” He rasped, his voice getting a bit hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Please.”

He raised you back up into his lap as it felt right.

Lining up his leaking cock with your leaking pussy he was hopeful that it would suffice for making things easier.

It did, as big as he was compared to you, he pushed in and met no resistance. You’d been ready since you’d last cum. As good as it was, it wasn't enough, you wanted more.

Letting your weight aid you, you speared yourself on his cock till you couldn’t fit a single bit more. He was longer than he was thick, but that wasn’t much of an issue given the fact that even being on the thinner side it was still more than enough to stretch you. Putting mind numbing pressure on all those delicious places inside you.

“Will it be sufficient for the task at hand my Honeybee?” He breathed, his own head a bit fuzzy from the perfect warmth wrapped around his cock.

“Absolutely. Fuck even your cock is perfect.”

He hugged you close and pressed his face into your shoulder.

You both sat like that, intimately embraced and ready to finally make good on a fantasy you’d both had countless times.

You moved first, using your footing on the grassy earth to raise yourself up and then drop.

Mortarion's hands swiftly went to your ass and hips, helping you to move.

It was everything he’d reamed and so much more.

Soon enough your efforts were taken over by your lover, he raised you with ease and pushed you back down onto his cock with fervor.

That was just fine with you though. You kissed him deeply and allowed him to explore your mouth as he fucked you.

“Damn it all. Why didn’t I tell you sooner?” He asked with a bitter little laugh.

“Great question.” You told him moaning as his cock kissed your cervix gently. “I should have told you as soon as I realized.”

“And when was that?” The primarch asked.

“That first week I worked with you.”

Mortarion cursed in a language you couldn’t understand.

“We might have been married by now if that was the case.” He felt like such a fool, for the last few years you’d both been a source of love and light in each other's lives.

“I suppose we’ll have to make up for all that lost time then.”

Mortarion moaned and hugged you tight again, thrusting his hips up into you.

You came again, the already wet slap of skin becoming even wetter.

Mortarion fucked you a minute longer. His body grew hotter and the coil in his belly winding tighter as he got ready to cum inside someone for the first time. It was completely different from his hand. The thrusts grew sloppy and he groaned as he came. Pushing into you to make sure not a drop was wasted.

Mortarion laid back in the grass under the willow, you rested on his chest as his cock slipped out. You were both spent. But very satisfied.

“I love you Mortarion.” You yawned quietly.

He smiled, it was genuine and warm and he’d never smiled like it before, it felt good to smile that way.

“I love you too, Honeybee.”

[prettyflyshyguy]

My Horus Heresy Blackshields army (Fangs of the Emperor) is complete! 1250pts ready to go for a local event happening tomorrow. For once I wasn't awake till 3am the night before the event painting a tank. It's clearly cause I dissented and became a Loyalist. For the Emperor, lol. It's a doubles event so my army is very skewed but it compliments my partner's well.

Everything's WYSIWYG, but the short and simple of my list:

Master of Signals with a heavy support squad (lascannons)

Dread with melta and graviton in the fist

Seekers, magna combi (melta), with augury scanner and infravisor

Veterans with nemesis bolters, augury scanner and infravisor

Destroyer Assault, thunder hammer for bonking and 2 toxiferran flamers

Squint's bringing Sisters of Silence and together we are "Oops!! All pinning!" so wish us luck. Do NOT wish the Emperor to protect us, we don't worship him as a god in HH because there are no gods only man.

[tagedeszorns]

Eidolon had been beautiful once, sharing in the genetic splendour passed down from his primarch. It was a supreme irony, then, that Fulgrim himself had robbed him of it. The scar across Eidolon’s throat had healed badly, a wound inflicted as much upon his soul as on his flesh. Even as his neck pulsed with the sonic alterations conferred by the Chief Apothecary, the scar remained resolutely unbending. It flexed and constricted with every fitful motion, restricting the lord commander’s full range of motion. His skin was bloodlessly pale, his eyes now cataracted and rheumy. His hair fell down one side of his head, lank and wilted like dead plant growth.

Marc Collins, Eidolon - The Auric Hammer

Looking forward to this book.

[whocookedthelastsupper]

“Yet some would say, why women's history at all? Surely men and women have always shared a world, and suffered together all its rights and wrongs? It is a common belief that whatever the situation, both sexes faced it alike. But the male peasant, however cruelly oppressed, always had the right to beat his wife. The black slave had to labor for the white master by day, but he did not have to service him by night as well. This grim pattern continues to this day, with women bearing an extra ration of pain and misery whatever the circumstances, as the sufferings of the women of war-torn Eastern Europe will testify. While their men fought and died, wholesale and systematic rape-often accompanied by the same torture and death that the men suffered — was a fate only women had to endure. Women's history springs from moments of recognition such as this, and the awareness of the difference is still very new. Only in our time have historians begun to look at the historical experience of men and women separately, and to acknowledge that for most of our human past, women's interests have been opposed to those of men. Women's interests have been opposed by them, too: men have not willingly extended to women the rights and freedoms they have claimed for themselves. As a result, historical advances have tended to be "men only" affairs. When history concentrates solely on one half of the human race, any alternative truth or reality is lost. Men dominate history because they write it, and their accounts of active, brave, clever or aggressive females constantly tend to sentimentalize, to mythologize or to pull women back to some perceived "norm." As a result, much of the so-called historical record is simply untrue. For example, Joan of Arc was burned not for heresy but for wearing men's clothes, as were other women right up to the eighteenth century. Florence Nightingale was never called "the Lady with the Lamp," but "the Lady with the Hammer," an image deftly readjusted by the war reporter of the Times since it was far too coarse for the folks back home. Far from gliding about the hospital with her lamp aloft, Nightingale earned her nickname through a ferocious attack on a locked storeroom when a military commander refused to give her the medical supplies she needed.”

-Rosalind Miles; Who Cooked the Last Supper? The Women’s History of the World

[theaceofskulls]

Anyways, an actual discussion on Tithes episode 2:

The animation here was fantastic and the way they captured speed was fantastic.

The opening has space marines vs Tyranids and it's the first time space marines look as unnervingly fast as they get described in lore (when the lore isn't just turning them into the Flash for some reason). It looks too fast for how bulky they are and even with them fighting literal monsters it makes them seem monsterous.

Throughout the episode we see almost every "empowered" faction showcase speed similarly, from the Custodes quickly moving through what feels like forms in her combat, to the Sister of Silence racing through the forest chasing down someone, to the tyranids in the woods hunting the humans as well as how sudden their ambushes are.

It really hammers home how unlikely survival is in this setting and it's such a great bit of animation that GW's other animation studio struggled with during their Lucius the Eternal episode of Hammer and Bolter.

Meanwhile the anthology continues to hammer home just how horrid the imperium is with its hunger to keep the machines of war going. If you're familiar with the lore, you expect this to just be centered around the psyker sacrifice thing that's part of the episode only to be blindsided by what happens at the end.

Lastly, I love that after what undeniably reaffirms that one character is not as heroic as they're made out to be, the justification for the venom and callusness is very clear and understandable. While it doesn't justify the actions that occur in the aftermath, it deflates the sense that the "wronged" side actually has the moral high ground either. It's a scene that will anger a lot of people who go into 40k and somehow miss that certain factions aren't the good guys, but I loved it, and it hit the notes that I think the ending of Pariah Nexus struggled with.

So far Tithes has been a pretty good anthology series. I'm curious to see where the third episode goes, as the only other preview shot we have seemed to be a Heresy era animation, which I'm fairly sure is Kill Lupercal not episode 3 (and Blacktalon season 2 stuff).

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

Finished reading Eidolon: Aulric hammer.

So this is like the first heresy book I have read in.... Five to ten you years?

Pretty much it's what the Lord Commander gets up to on his trip to Terra.

Which involves a lot of murder and oddly, soul searching.... Okay, maybe not the right word, but the soul is there.

So strange not to think of Eidolon as zombie rain frog now.

Now for something else in the pile of eBooks.

[the-wayward-arc]

What happens to the iron dragons and thunder Lords after Nora and Yang's passing? Do they have some way to keep their memories alive? What about the rules they had in Legion what happens to those?

Loyal Au: The 2 companies became their chapters when the Legion split. With Yang passing peacefully at the age of 109, she was buried with her family, the private cemetery heavily guarded by three Iron Dragons at all times. Her gauntlets were reforged, at her request, into weapons befitting of the Iron Dragons chapter master. They are a symbol of his office and one of the very few things they have left of her. Iron Dragons repainted their armor to match her palette. Their chapter insignia being Yangs with a Dragon's skull in the center of it. They do their best to live up to her legacy.

Chaos Au: Yang's violent death came to destroy the Iron Dragons. In their anguish, as their Legion fell to the powers of Malal, the Iron Dragons allowed themselves to be possessed by great daemons in order to gain the power they need to avenge their mother. Great was their rage and Anguish, their need for power, that they actually turned the tables into the daemons that possessed them. Instead, devouring the daemons within themselves to harness the power, greatly mutating into their namesake while growing massive in size and keeping their will and personality. The Iron Dragons are extremely violent and ensure they rain down fire from the sky.

Thunder Lords

Loyal Au: The Thunder Lords chapter is unusual in the fact they are small in number and all their battle brothers use only terminator armor. The reason why they have such an amount is because they scavenged as many as they could during the heresy. Raiding Traitor Armories and scavenging them off the dead, both traitor and loyal. As such, the chapter is only 300 strong. As such they have a motto "Strike like a hammer! Hard and thunderous!" The peaceful passing of Nora at 98 did hit the the Thunder Lords hard. Repainting their armor to match her colors and wearing her symbol with great pride. They honor Nora by being not only being the heaviest hitters but coming down like a hammer upon their enemies, destroying everything in one fatal strike. The chapter keeps itself at its current strength due to limited number of Terminator armor. Much like Yang's weapon, Nora's was reforged into a might Thunder hammer for the Chapter Master to signify his status and office. It is a terrifying weapon capable of much more devastating destruction than it previously was, know that their mother would absolutely love it as such.

Chaos Au: Holding their Nora as she took her final breath in front of them sent every single Thunder Lord into an eternal rage. Their minds became fragmented at the lost of their mother and even more so when they mutated into Chaos Obliterators when they fully gave themselves to Malal who bestowed them his own vile version of the virus that severely mutated them and turned them into violent hulking killing machines. Fused to their very armor, they are in eternal agony but also eternally furious as they relive the moment of Nora's death in their minds. Seeing both allies and enemies as obstacles in their way to save Nora, always calling out for her. Forever reliving that moment. In a subconscious vain attempt to be closer to her, their right arms are permanently fused to their thunderhammers. Swinging violently to anyone that gets near them. Their are only 40 of them left (bit of a retcon from 10 I stated before.) Gunnvaldr is the only one of his brethren to keep his sanity and the only one they listen to outside of Jaune. Even at times, above Jaune. They are kept in stasis or restrained.

[howlingday]

Mmm, the Inquisition is making their demands. I daresay some would have issues with that. Tales and stories of Remnant has already spread by now. Orks like this world because of the Grimm but I imagine there's another Chapter of Marines that like the fight of the Grimm.

A chapter that's...angry.

A chapter that won't tolerate the Inquisition.

A chapter that's ALWAYS ANGRY!!! ALL THE TIME!!!

Behold! THE ANGRY MARINES!!!

A special thank you to @warmastercain55 for providing me the link to the wiki regarding this famous/infamous homebrew blend of Space Marines. More and more, I learn about the Warhammer community, and more and more I am amused and terrified of what lies within. That said, here is the sequel to my prior post regarding the Ordo Hereticus.

..............................................................

Jaune shivered with tears in his eyes as he watched his friends being loaded into strange device. He openly sobbed as he watched Pyrrha being hauled in, unconscious and unceremoniously dumped inside like a sack of flour. He never considered himself lucky, not in the slightest when compared to the other students with years of training already under their belts. Sadly, that training proved ineffective against the totalitarian regime that was the "Empire of Mankind," and it was only by his own natural luck that he escaped their claiming of these "psykers" that were his friends with unlocked semblances.

Suddenly, there was a loud scream, louder than anything Remnant had heard before. Suddenly, the grounds of Beacon were bombarded and cratered in by huge metal eggs from the sky. Suddenly, there was shouts of untempered rage echoing across the grounds.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Roared the Inquisitor. "We did not call for assistance from the Astartes!"

"No, but I did." Headmaster Ozpin replied. "We will not permit invaders who think they can bully their way into Remnant."

"You..." The Inquistor shook with rage. "You here-" He choked on his words as the headmaster smashed his cane into the Inquistor's throat.

"You are the heretics here!" Ozpin roared, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"WHO'S A FUCKING HERETIC?!" A booming voice, accompanied by the terrified screams of students awaiting to be taken away. A gilded giant stomped his way into Ozpin's direction. "WHO'S THE FUCKING DEAD MOTHERFUCKER WHO THINKS THEY CAN GET AWAY WITH HERESY?!"

The woman in black armor stepped in between. "It is these insubordinates falsely accusing our inquisition of-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SPEAK PLAINLY, YOU GODDAMN WHITE HAIRED COCKSUCKING WHORE!"

"They're heretics." Ozpin pointed plainly at the Inquisitor, who was still grasping his throat.

"FUCKING HERETIC!" Pulling free his warhammer, the gold and red titan roared his battle cry. "ALWAYS ANGRY, ALL THE TIME!"

The Sister of Battle tried to silence his rage with gunfire, her anger influenced by the space marine. Her aggression was met with even greater aggression as his hammer swung with great ferocity, reducing her head to red mulch.

Leaving nothing to chance, Jaune ran through the crowd and into the machine that was about to leave. A shrieking woman reached for him, but Jaune pulled loose his sword and struck the woman. Lacking aura, her face was easily sliced open, and her blood spilled from her cheek. This only fueled her anger as she reached for her gun but found her weapon too heavy to life. Behind her, Jaune could make out the all-too-familiar red hair of Pyrrha, his partner.

However, before he could make another attempt at the woman, she was pulled from the aircraft by a golden gauntlet, inscribed with the words, "FUCK YOU". Jaune looked to his friends and called for them all to leave. As he left with Pyrrha, they shared the view of pure chaos roaring across the once peaceful grounds of Beacon Academy. Professor Goodwitch called for students to hurry inside, while Professor Ozpin was busy fending off the Inquisitor. The situation was hell, and there was no way for this to get any worse.

"OI!" Jaune heard a booming shout, then turned to the distance where there was a heap of metal that shook and shuddered as a large green creature called from the inside. "YOU LOT HAVIN' A SCRAP?!"