#slaaneshi posting

[farsight-the-char]

Teases for the coming EC models.

Centre is a fittingly similar helmet to those of Slaanesh's heavy infantry in AOS, the Myrmidesh Painbringers, and the one here are probably the melee marine option.

Left and right are probably noise marine heads, right probably being a champion helm.

[slaanxsh]

Type of guy who would let you fuck around, but curse your dick so you couldn't actually nut inside of anyone but him or one of his daemons (but ideally him).

[solspina]

Hope in Small Places

malum caedo ⋆˙⟡

a short story that's not my proudest work. i just want to get this posted i am so sorry its not proofread and probably horribly written amen.

a poor chaos sacrifice, bent to be perfect and compliant, meets a very questionable space marine with unclear intentions and an even more unclear identity. taken to a safe space and left to ponder her thoughts, she remembers she has more faith than anticipated.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: blood, mentions/implications of sexual assault, religious guilt probably, malum fucking caedo

Her body had sat folded in on itself since the moment she had last been placed down, the only two things that prevented her knees from resting flush against her chest were the sharp, knife-like pain of her broken leg bones poking into her muscles as they threatened to break skin the moment she put pressure upon them, and the presence of a quietly vibrating servo-skull that was being held within her clammy hands, clutched close to her body in a feeble attempt to muffle the almost ambient noise coming from it.

The technology embedded in the skull had made it warm. At the very least, she could feel and somewhat move her fingers, and that alone had been a small but welcome mercy against the freezing cold floors of whatever ship or building her heretical and deformed captors had dragged her into. Regardless of the type of architecture, what mattered was their intention - their screaming voices and bloodied knuckles as they spent day by day and night by night molding her to be the perfect little sacrifice to an unknown chaos god. One who was, without a doubt, not the emperor.

Her pounding head remained bowed, and her breath only came from her lips in sharp, trembling gasps. Whether her labored intake of air came from a punctured lung or from raw fear, she could no longer discern. Her forehead had long stayed against the servo-skull in her arms as she waited for hours at a time. She occasionally took a moment to try and quell her boredom by messaging at the rope burns that lined nearly every limb that clung onto her fragile body. Arms, neck, legs - any inch of exposed skin that had not been covered by the filthy and tattered fabric an eerily bloodstained and unfamiliar looking astartes had torn from the loincloth around his waist.

Some of the heretics had been kinder than others, of course. She had decided that she much preferred the company of the Slaaneshi over the Khornites, for at least the bruises caused by their hands were from the violence of desire and not that of hatred.

Tucked behind a small cargo barrel, she waited for a sign of safety - either from the servo-skull in her hands or from the lack of gunshots and raging of chainswords that came from the next rooms over. A mere few minutes, maybe even hours earlier, they had been right outside the door, but now they had moved to directly above her head. She did not move a muscle as incredibly apparent slaughter circled the rooms around her, never once entering the room she had been placed in with more care than she had experienced in months of captivity. She had simply been placed down in a utility closet-like room and told to stay put, not to move. She was incredibly good at following orders by now, especially the ones that entailed sitting still and letting whatever was going to happen to her body simply happen. She could do nothing to stop her daemon captors from doing what they desired, whether that be to her mind, body, or soul.

This time, it had to have been one of Tzeentch’s men, she was halfway certain. Bright blue armor and the bird-like helmet he wore would not have been out of character for someone like the changer of ways, but she had encountered rubric marines before and not a single one of them had the look or presence of a soul that this one had. Many wouldn’t have even had the vocal cords to tell her to stay put in place.

The possibility of one of the emperor’s angels had crossed her mind, but that hope faded near immediately. Greater daemons and champions of chaos wandered this building, constantly taunting her with their strengths and feats. They mutilated her flesh and made it whole again. They violated her fragile body time and time again. They preached the power of their gods and smiled when she teared up in fear of what she was doomed to become part of. She was reminded day in and day out, through endless nights of sleep deprivation only sated when she fainted from exhaustion or pain, that a single angel of the emperor stood no chance alone. And so, she had swallowed the prayer of the man in blue armor coming to save her as soon as it rose to the front of her prayers.

She had become so lost in her thoughts, in her doubts, that she had failed to realize that prayers had started falling from her lips. Her words, still accompanied by her shallow and shaking breaths, were barely coherent whispers - aside from the occasional "emperor" and "protect me" that came audibly from within her chest. She knew her cries for help would go unanswered. If they had not been answered by now, it was clear to both her and the chaos that surrounded her that the emperor was not listening. Her unwavering faith meant absolutely nothing.

She only managed to break away from those thoughts as the closet door hissed in response to being opened and revealed the white helmet peeking from behind it. She lifted her forehead from the servo-skull and allowed herself to stare into the glowing red eyes of the bloodied astartes that stepped into the room and closed the door tightly behind him as he approached, either to trap her or prevent being ambushed. She felt the tension in the air rise as he walked toward her, his boots pounding against the metal floor in perfect sync with her head before they stopped mere inches from her legs. One slight kick from him would mean immediate death. Quick and painless, at least.

Alas, the kick never came.

Instead, he knelt, tilting his bird-like helm left and right slightly and repetitively. He seemed to be assessing her closely, checking for any further signs of injury or chaos-taint before bowing his head, leveling it with hers and allowing her to place her hand upon the top of the beak.

"Are you hurt?" He asked through his still-bowed head, watching her shake her own head as she stared into his eyes through the distortion of his helmet.

"Where are... they..." She asked in return. Her voice trembled almost as much as her irises did, and trailed off all the same. She was exhausted, truthfully, and he seemed to realize it far more than even she did. Her gaze, however, even against her voice, was suffocatingly afraid. He backed away, careful not to move too quickly as to not scare her any further, even despite the blood and vitae covering his armor in absolutely every area it could reach.

"The heretics?" He said, looking for assurance he had read her question correctly. "Dead. Every last one of them."

He was incredibly careful to read the baseline's body language, wanting to ensure he had done the right thing leaving her alive. Would she attack him for killing her people? Smile at the death of heretics? The sigh of relief that fell from her lips and the slack of her tense shoulders told him all he needed to know.

She would cry, jump into his arms in joy if she had the energy to. That, he did not need to know. What he did know was that he needed to leave, and he needed to do so urgently if the baseline he had rescued would have absolutely any chance of survival.

"You need not walk." He replied to her obvious dilemma, his tone leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. She opened her mouth to speak again, but he had already moved to cradle her with practiced ease that made the blood and carnage on his armor seem to be a hallucination. She winced as her shattered bones in her legs shifted, but her pain faded just as quickly as it had began now that they were off the ground and away from any applied pressure.

The servo-skull she once had seemed to attach itself to the air around the astartes without hesitation. Perhaps it was his all along, and she had just stumbled across it by chance. Regardless, she hoped that it's good intentions had matched his, and that he would prove to be just as comforting in the end.

"Stay with me," The marine murmured, repeating the phrase as he opened the door and carried her into the corridors that smelled putrid of fresh blood. She was used to the scent, desensitized, and yet she inhaled its lack of comfort one last time. "Stay with me."

"The emperor protects." She whispered, pressing her face against his bloodied chestplate, no longer caring if a little heretic blood covered her skin.

They had bathed in her blood for months, she deserved a turn with theirs.

"Indeed he does, little one."

Solspina's Scribellum✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

@astrohymn @moodymisty @undeaddream

@kit-williams @lemon-russ @egrets-not-regrets

(please comment to be added/removed from my taglist !!)

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

Guilliman's Soup

"Look, I'm not going to harm any of you, not unless it involves stuffing Guilliman in a room without his....." Fulgrim trails off, the demon prince's lower half coiling in discomfort as he stares at the abomination that bubbled within the pot. It smelled distinctly of both Mjød and cigarettes, appearing as something that Fulgrim was uncertain if even a Nurgling would eat. He certainly wouldn't. Actually he doesn't think any Slaaneshi demon is depraved enough to even attempt to make such a thing. He shakes his head. "Will I be allowed to help?" Calgar, who was certainly not at all expecting to see the demon prince of excess himself at the entrance to the Imperial palace, couldn't decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand it meant that his primarch wasn't affected by any chaos god, if even Slaanesh was getting involved; on the other, did he really want to accept the help of a demon prince? Especially one that is well.... Calgar sighs deeply, "Fine, you might actually be a good deterrent to Dante anyway. He's been a pain in the ass" "Who is-" Fulgrim doesn't get to finish his sentence as a very old marine of what appears to be of the blood angel's chapter is shooed away by a serf with a broom, wacking the marine's shins with it as he hisses like an angry goose. Fulgrim has his answer on who Dante is but is now even further confused, "I thought Blood Angels were supposed to be noble?" "I'm hoping the soup will kill me" Dante helpfully responds which has the demon prince blinking in utter shock, because what the fuck happened to Sanguinius' sons!? Another Ultramarine, this one apparently named Cato is crawling on his hands and knees out of the room where Dante came from, coughing and generally being a rather sad sight with the stench of both vomit and the abominable liquid upon his breath. Slaanesh, who just briefly decided to turn her head towards whatever the fuck her demon prince was doing, vomits and mutters 'I can't believe none of this was Nurgle's idea; he actually wants the fucking recipe!'. Needless to say, Fulgrim doesn't really want to know what's exactly in that pot. Instead he dryly says "I'm amazed this hasn't summoned anything other then myself..." Calgor sighs "No, it has, there's the Sanguinor, and it's currently being kept back by some Sister of Silence out of fear that it's going to beat Dante to death with a sandle. Personally I'm not fond of trying to explain to the blood angels that we didn't kill their chapter master; it was the soul of Sanguinius, himself, that ended his life. I can't see that going too well...And Cato, please stop eating father's soup." "But-" "No buts or I'm throwing you into the same room as the Sanguinor" That stopped any more protests out of Cato who shuddered at the very idea of confronting the very angry warp spirit that was half of mind to possess someone.

The sound of what Fulgrim could still recognize after all these years as a very angry Leman Russ can be heard in the distance yelling "WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO WITH MY FUCKING MJOD, ROBOUTE!?" This was going to be a long and terrible process, Fulgrim just knows it. ____ This short story was inspired by a convo between myself and @moociaoafterdark on this post.

[iii-official]

'ohhh why are the slaaneshis making posts about festival safety doesnt that go against their whole thing'

[saysthenightingale]

nightingale discovers warhammer 40k (1/???)

I like to think I’m at least marginally funny, so I was thinking I would live tweet my reactions, thoughts and favourite moments as a little record as I descend into the warhammer rabbit hole ! this first post will be all the stuff from the past half week, which is my very first venture into warhammer

knew jack about warhammer 40k until approx a week ago. saw a gif of n'kari, thought 'would', was horrified at myself, thought to myself "nightingale are you a monsterfucker or not, fucking commit to it, coward" and now i'm here

funniest moment is still blue archive ost playing over my iron warriors research. for those unaware blue archive is an anime style game where you collect adorable girls who wield military assault weaponry

that oldhammer thing about horus railing fulgrim into following chaos lives in my head rent free (thank you @/chemos-factories) because it's just an 18+ doujinshi premise. i can see the words on the dlsite page. subtitled "battle brother, what are you doing?!" and it's called some shit like "it's not like i gangbanged my brother into following a chaos god" "the elder brother-like one" or "domestic spacemarine" wait domestic girlfriend isn't actually 18+ is it

please tell me someone understands my "the elder brother like one" reference because it seems like something right up the slaaneshi alley

are the ultramarines just space versions of garen from league of legends or is my gut instinct wrong

sanguinius and fulgrim are still the sexiest primarchs to me. and yes i'm still pretending that the primarchs all went to family therapy and did Not all try to kill each other. i'm coping.

i rescind my previous statement about the night lords, wherein i said "the night lords are like if someone looked at a list of felonies and said 'all of them'." i am not rescinding this because it's wrong, but because it was an understatement

more correctly the night lords are like "if someone looked at the geneva convention and turned it into a checklist."

re: fabius bile. first of all, sure, a fulgrim clone is insane, but i'm hardly even surprised. of course. of fucking course. more importantly- really? fabius bile??? like wow i WONDER what hes like with a name like that

speaking of crazy names, 'ferrus manus'??? i have been informed that yes, 'ferrus manus', literally 'iron hand', leads his legion, the 'iron hands', from the 'fist of iron.' the word 'iron' is starting to not look like a word to me

[chemos-factories]

saw the ultramar gas station chain get brought up again which means i have to once more post Slaaneshi Invasion Of Ultramar

[fourgods-nobrakes]

Current ironclad headcanon: Great Crusade Fulgrim is he/him, because all the primarchs and all their sons are he/him, that's just how the Emperor designed them, don't worry about it there's a war on

Post-ascension Fulgrim becomes progressively more fluid, because they have the option to change themself with ease now, being really a thoughtform with a shape, and they're surrounded by Slaaneshi creatures who cheer them on any time they want to try more things

[darth-razmus]

Now that the hype over the initial reveal is over time to post some thoughts.

First off....Holy Slaanesh the models look amazing. All the Slaanesh bits look great. I do get that there is not alot of body horror that tends to go along with Slaanesh but to allow us our own model line combined with Warhammer going more mainstream I get it.

Lucius...just wow.... Like the new Ahriman, Kharn and Typhus he got quite the glow up.

The new lords. Gonna grab a few of them for assorted kitbashed. The Kakophonic one is personally my fav of the pair.

The new noise marines. THINGS SHALL GET LOUD NOW!!! Love the new design. It is interesting to note that at this time noise marines are the only cult troop that is not battle line.

Pour one out for the pure demon players. The reveal that Slaaneshi demons are in the codex pretty much makes the squatting of the Daemon codex rumor a sure thing. I am always sad to see a codex disappear esp one like the demon codex where they still are a major player in the lore.

The flawless blades. I was writing for my homebrew a version of them. To have models fit my headcannon is quite nice. And they look pretty good.

I am sad like most other EC players that the sonic dreadnaught is still missing. Or even an upgrade to the hellbrute. A small missed opportunity.

Despite the full list of what we keep from the CSM dex not yet available I am a little more at ease due to our new battle line. Our version of melee and bolter Legionaries still work perfect as counts as from the core CSM codex which still doesn't invalidate my current WiP jump lord conversion. Or my good luck forgfiend(so far only maulerfiend is confirmed) Fluffy. Or the traitor guard force I am planning to represent the Archite Palatines. Having 2 books to play from depending on my mood is always a good thing.

Overall I am quite excited for what we got. I was concerned our launch was gonna be just Lucius and noise marines.

[tagedeszorns]

So here's my live reading of "Lord of Excess"!

May contain Spoilers!

I'm only a quarter of the way through the book, which is because (apart from the fact that I only downloaded it this morning) the weather is sunny and warm for the first time this spring, so I've tended to be out and about so far. And being out and about led me to the Warhammer store, where I not only bought some colours for the Beastmen and had a little chat, but also got the miniature of the month (a very nice Terminator) and put it together. And during a little hike I thought about whether I should make him a Salamander, Word Bearer or Emperor's Children.

But I digress. A quarter of Lord of Excess. And so far the verdict is: holy shit, we finally have an author again! This is not a drill! There's a new Emperor's Children writer who understands their mindset, background and motivation!

Yes, Rich McCormick still has to find his way into some things and perhaps take a less narrow view of others - but in principle he's well on the way to growing into Josh Reynolds' huge shoes. (that sounds like Reynolds is a Harlequin. Clown shoes! Honk!)

This makes me very, very happy.

Quick summary of highlights (besides the quotes I've already posted):

McCormick lets Fabius be himself. I want to kiss his eyes for that. (No, Fabius has no appearance - but he's mentioned and speaks through his actions)

He understands that Emperor's Children are not just insane junkies, but gives them different obsessions with perfection (a logistician!).

He incorporates their history and gives space to the wounding they collectively suffered with the destruction of Harmony.

He's able to capture their incredible arrogance and narcissism without ridiculing them (Watch and learn, McNeill!).

He creates personalities that aren't all defined solely by their gene-seed.

The list will certainly be expanded.

But of course it's not all sunshine and roses. I find it difficult to accept certain things when I'm told them but then very consistently not shown them.

If Xantine and Vavisk are such incredibly close friends, I want to see that in their interactions too.

Why do the Adored follow Xantine? So far, it's not clear to me. Too much telling, too little showing. I mean, isn't it funny that Fabius, the man whose picture is next to "Caustic Bitch" in the dictionary, can apparently build and maintain healthier and more stable friendships than a charismatic warband leader with a Slaaneshi demon in his pocket?!

But that's just a minor annoying aspect so far - albeit one that makes it hard for me to like Xantine as a protagonist. Please don't get me wrong - I don't need a main character to be a classic lawful-good Hollywood hero to like him! I adore the characters with flaws, with bad habits and the ones who fight tooth and nail against being heroes. But at least a basic sympathy that makes me care why the protagonists are in trouble and makes me eager to see how they resolve the situation - that would be nice!

In any case, so far: I want to know more! The book is fun! So much!

(Okay, the usual Black Library mantra "There have to be little people in it, not just Astartes!" is getting on my nerves, as it does every time. But, hey, it'll be fine!)

One last thing: Lucius and Fabius pointing and laughing at Xantine, because Clarion/The Composer and Wolver/Key are so much cooler than a stinking heap!

[lore-pls]

Big beefy Demetrian Titus getting Objectified by slaaneshi tentacle forces of some kind. Posting tomorrow.

[skxrbrand]

Was gonna wait until sunday to post this, but with my work schedule looking the way it's looking, Imma go ahead and do it now lmao. It IS spicy. Got some rust on my smut-skills, but I think it's serviceable. Ft. @alphabitchnkari's N'kari and my Skarb~

N'kari had returned.

From wherever he'd gone, for days and weeks, he'd returned. Skarbrand had felt it before his Heralds had informed him, before the sound of raucous celebration from the worshippers of Shornaal had reached his ear. And he had emerged from the peaceful dark of his chamber, first with the intent to hunt the Keeper down. But violence had turned into spite halfway through the trip and the Reaper found himself in the pit of Skulls, avoiding his wandersome ally-companion. Refusing to partake in the festivities, even to disrupt them.

Attention. The Slaaneshi thrived off of it and the Arch-Tempter was no different from his kin. He would notice the lack of Exile, as he would surely be expecting Skarbrand's rage, condemnation, scorn and malice yet would receive nothing. And he would take slight in that nothing; of all daemons, it was the Pleasure-kin who took offense the easiest. It was the Pleasurekin whose displeasure was the worst.

" You bring no skulls. No offerings." Skarbrand spoke as soon as felt N'kari was close enough to hear. There was nothing but the sound of claw on bone, peeling flesh, and the throwing of that wet flesh into piles.

" I did not think the great Skarbrand would care for mortal souvenirs." N'kari replied, leaned against the yawning mouth of the cavern. He looked relaxed, but in truth he was scanning, watching, waiting for the Reaper's mood to erupt. Of the Bloodthirster's raised hackles, stillness, and erect tail he had taken note. The Reaper was agitated.

" You reek of indulgence." Skarbrand growled. He turns, ears pinned back, eyes roiling with hatred. " You will not bring it here, into this sacred space."

The Reaper's isn't the only fiend who's patience is at it's end. He does not heed Skarbrand, striding into the cavern with confidence. The Bloodthirster is up immediately, practically throwing away his work to throw N'kari back out. But, with a gesture, the Keeper opens a portal beneath them both and they are back in Eight Tower-- the Reaper with a graceless thud. Skarbrand quickly recovers, lunging, but the Keeper sidesteps him. He exerts his will and bullies down the fury the Reaper has been surely nursing during their time apart.

" There. We are not in your precious skull cavern. Now, we can speak."

" I do not wish to speak. Or did my absences not tip you off?"

" Those absences are the very thing I wish to speak of. You have been avoiding me, beloved. And I wish to know why. Is there someone else?" The Keeper suggested laughingly, though the expression was only skin deep.

" Go back to your petty indulgences, N'kari. I am busy."

" Busy hiding? Skulking about in the shadows? Shaking in my absence like a cur in the rain?"

" And what have you been doing? Eating, drinking, whoring? Wasting time like your lot only knows how to do?"

The Keeper gave a small shrug. He would not argue his vices, for he was not ashamed of them. " Eating, yes. Drinking, yes. But not whoring. I have lain with no daemon since my return. I have desired no flesh but your own, yet you hide yourself from me." N'kari's voice took on a tone of concern, though there was edge too it. Skarbrand couldn't tell if it was anger or mock-pity or something else.

" Is this because of the...incident? Have I struck fear into you at last, beloved? Without axe or sword, only just the flesh of my body?" The Keeper asks, secretive, running his talons up one leg and thigh. Skarbrand stepped close, nearly snout to maw with the bent-down Keeper.

" You killed me. I had to stand before Kharneth because of you."

" So it is fear."

The Reaper stepped close again, this time involving his horns, which he locked with N'kari's. " I fear no flesh game." He held the jeweled gaze of the other daemon, willing himself not to look away as the Keeper took advantage of their closeness. Taloned hands cradled his face, pincer-arms wrapped about his shoulders, and the Arch-Tempter flickered his tongue.

It wasn't fear he tasted, but anger. Tinged with wariness. A hound whose faced the serpent's bite and was rightfully worried of facing it again. Skarbrand waits with cinched teeth and a set jaw. Despite everything, he wants to hear the Tempter's assessment.

" Show me, then. Grant me my final indulgence. I've been withholding for so long."

The Reaper feels rivulets of his blood run down his face from where talons have pricked his skin. He feels the hidden strength in the gentleness of the Keeper's pincer arms, locked around his shoulders. He is aware, all too aware, of the Tempter's needle-teeth so near to his soft nose. A part of him, sown over the months from their prolonged closeness, responds to the Keeper's proximity and upon realizing that, he almost pulls away. Almost. But what was that but retreat? A confirmation of the Keeper's accusations of fear?

N'kari's grin had to painful with how wide it was. It was always fun to watch the Reaper, a simple Khornate daemon, wrestle with such conundrums. What conclusion would he come to? Would the Keeper be savaged, carnally or with teeth in his throat? The anticipation makes the heady aroma wafting off his skin more potent and the Reaper's response to him all the more obvious.

The musk does it's work, but it is not the only thing making Skarbrand respond so. N'kari had seen it-- the subtle flicking of odd-colored eyes to his long talons, and pincer-claws, and teeth. The silent realization that any one of these could maim and rend the Reaper-- and some could kill him, just as N'kari's thighs had. The wordless, inflaming acknowledgement of the Arch-Tempter being a weapon and a fine one at that. It wouldn't last-- but it wouldn't be the last time the Reaper would come to the conclusion, either.

When the Reaper came to from his reverie, they were moving. N'kari was pushing him backward, his impatience overtaking his smugness. The much-abused Throne of Skulls is where they ended up, the Tempter making short work of the Bloodthirster's scant coverings. He licks up the hot daemon blood trailing a line down the Reaper's face and throws open the large metal door at the back of Skarbrand's chambers with a gesture, leading to the runway. A Keeper he might be, but the Arch-Tempter had no wish for this tryst to be a secret.

Skarbrand sees the meaning behind it immediately. N'kari wants them to know the Reaper had not strayed from his side. Let the gods themselves see; let Khorne seethe and Slaanesh be amused by the coupling! When he realizes, he cannot help the raw wave of loathing that bubbles up from his chest, even with the Tempter's expert stroking of his tenderest flesh.

" Q’tlhaga."

" Your Q’tlhaga, my sweet." N'kari replies. " And you are my Reaper."

The Exile hadn't believed N'kari when he had claimed to deny himself. After all, when did the Slaaneshi ever? But the impatient, hungry Keeper had abandoned his hand for his body soon enough, the heat of palm replaced by the wet heat of sex. Stroking hands became rolling hips and the pace the Keeper set was at once smooth and brutal. A creature starved for flesh and finally allowed to feed.

He felt the Keeper's tail curl around him, lower from where they join, wrapping about his balls. A lance of recollection grips him just as tightly. It's going to be a long, exhausting night. A night of being brought to the brink over and over, but denied release. The Reaper's hand lashed out, sinking into N'kari's shoulder and pulling him down. His teeth follow, burying deep into the purple fiend. The Tempter will not be the only creature fed by flesh this day, a sentiment he scars across the moaning echoes of N'kari's thoughts. But the sharpness of Skarbrand's fangs and the burn of his oily black saliva are just more notes in a song of sensation to the Slaaneshi.

The Reaper doesn't intend for this night to be that night. He is no spoil of war, to be used at whim, and he shows N'kari that; pushing through the bone-quaking pleasure-pain of stuttering legs and rising from the bone throne. He flips them, lifting the taller daemon and all but slamming him into the dais. The throne creaks beneath the assault; skulls break away, cracking on the floor and shattering under hoof as the Reaper comes forward. He pulls N'kari around him, into him, and sets his own pace, spearing the Keeper into his seat of power.

" Do you taste fear?" The Reaper asks growling pants. " Perhaps it is your own ."

N'kari crows a laugh, even over breathy pleasure. He crosses long legs across Skarbrand's back. " Whatever pleases you to believe, beloved." He says and earns another bite, another hunk of flesh torn from his neck. Pain. The point of the provocation, likely. The Tempter responds his kind: his tail squeezes the Bloodthirster's jewels, and the Reaper crumples atop him, bloody-mouthed and warbling. As if in apology, squeezing turns into massaging.

" That was mean." N'kari comments, though Skarbrand senses no true hurt. " Do not forget, Reaper. I can take these -- " The tail gives two pointed squeezes " -- from you at anytime."

" And your throat is well within range of my teeth, Tempter. You have slain me. The flesh and blood I take is a merciful recompense."

" Touché." The Keeper allows. His hands roam, wandering the hard, muscular plains of the Reaper's body and lingering on old scars and wounds. Skarbrand gathers himself, pushing himself to his hands and knees. It makes N'kari sneer. " Shall I turn around and we mate like hounds in season?"

" Shield your jugular, you mean."

" Is my back not just as appealing as my throat?"

" Your back is hard chitin and sharp pincers."

Skarbrand maintains. He press his weight onto N'kari's shoulders and somewhat clumsily slides himself back into the Keeper. The Tempter shudders; Skarbrand is unwieldy-- thick, ridged, long and aflare with arousal and fury. His Pincers do indeed come up, looming over the Exile like a guillotine. One well-placed strike and that could be the Reaper's head. The fact of it doesn't dissuade Skarbrand; if anything, N'kari feels the iron of the Exile's claws eat deeper into flesh and his cock ravage him even more ferociously, as if rising to the implied threat.

A thrumming growl hums at the back of Skarbrand's throat. A threat, a dare. His eyes flick between the two be-weaponed limbs a few times, before settling on the grinning Keeper. N'kari's eyes are bright with interest and excitement. " Grinning fool. Perhaps I should have flipped you over." He curses in a strained voice. N'kari hears it too and knows what it means. The end is close, but the Tempter isn't ready for the game to be over.

His tail constricts and the Reaper tenses and yanks the Keeper into him by the hips; the end does not come. There is no spend-- only the Tempter's slickness and blood; both his and N'kari's. But no burning Khornate seed. The smile N'kari gives is cruel and he takes advantage of the Reaper's momentary boneless to put himself back in the Bloodthirster lap, sitting on him like a wrangler on a broken bull.

" This game has a while yet to run, little Khornate." The Keeper purred, giving the throbbing Bloodthirster a few soft tugs. Skarbrand snorted, grimacing as he witnessed the Arch-Tempter sample the mess on his palm, then growling as the heat of the other daemon again swallowed him. N'kari flit his tongue, leaning over his partner.

" Are you afraid?"

Skarbrand showed the Tempter his teeth. His hands, still bearing much of their strength, locked around the curve of the Keeper's hips.

" I fear no flesh game."

[marcytheplagueissimp]

new bio!!

i’m marina!!

i’m a professional musician, composer, and a big nerd!

vampire the masquerade is one of my biggest interests and mostly what i post about. i’m mostly into v20 and v3 but i do likeeeee v5 for some things. giovanni and cappies are what ill mostly be posting about.

i’m also into dnd, pathfinder, and warhammer 40k! i love painting miniatures and in a slaaneshi fiend! my other special interest is star wars so i can also talk about that all day!

i’m a baby bat and also have a lot of interest in the macabre. gothic romance, gore, cannibalism, etc all in a sapphic lens is a big interest of mine and also what i’ll be posting about!

vtm characters!!

marina donata fecetti-dunsirn: ancilla giovanni who operates in the southern united states.

b. 1874 in italy

full time cannibal

gothic romance vibes, very macabre, etc.

sabine fanny drachmann: toreador cabaret performer and later early country singer.

b. 1901 in germany

full time freak

gothic romance vibes, eccentricity, etc.

sariah esther blackwood: autarkis cappadocian who’s an exmormon noddist

b. 1841 in missouri

full time accidental murderer

southern gothic, religious trauma vibes, gothic romance, etc

stanislava: dark ages ex orthodox slavic baali occultist

b. 1132 in novgorod

full time somewhat insane occultist

religious trauma vibes, extreme gore, fucked up sapphic romance, etc

my dms are open for anyone! i can also send my discord if anyone wants to talk there!!! :)

[bloody-red-gem]

I remembered some funny (in a bad way) things that ppl constantly wrote in r/40kLore, when I still used my Reddit account. This community has always been a treasure trove of cringe.

BEHOLD, THE OVERUSED DISCUSSION, EVERYONE IS SO TIRED OF: "DO THE SPACE MARINES HAVE SEX?"

Not only these guys brought up this topic every month, but they typed such idiotic things that I wanted to hit my head on the table.

My favorites:

1) "Space Marines don't have balls/genitals, they're basically smooth Ken dolls."

By the Dark Gods, where did they even get that from... And who then are their smooth Barbies?!

2) "They're sterile, so they can't have sex."

I think I studied some wrong things in medical university for 5 years. How can you confuse "sterile" with "impotent"? "Sterile" men can't have children - not sex! And yes, Astartes are canonically unable to conceive.

3) "Even Slaaneshi CSMs are not interested in sex, only in killing and torture."

Lots of excerpts from various novels and other lore bits where they're described having sex/relationship with each other, daemons and their slaves - are we a joke to you? Or do these guys need detailed E-rated scenes to understand it?

The self-proclaimed lore messiahs also love to say: "Slaanesh is not about sex! Stop constantly talking about it!"

The joke is - I almost never saw anyone who would say that, but, again, this topic was brought up constantly. Basically purists' neuron activation posts.

Damn, Slaanesh IS about sex AND other things (torture, art, music: excesses and hedonism in everything) too! But some people outright try to exclude this specific aspect when it's absolutely wrong. Because "no s*x in my Christian incel fantasy, no-no, sir!"

One person typed that Kasperos Telmar, aka The Radiant King, had "harem" of daemon "courtesans" and mentioned his "lovers".

This is where I died: some prude answered this person that "it was not specified that The Radiant did anything sexual with them!"

OF COURSE, YOU DO NOTHING SEXUAL WITH YOUR HAREM OF HOT BOVINE-CRUSTACEAN-WOMEN! THEY WERE JUST PLAYING REGICIDE UNDER THE BLANKET! EVERY CHAOS LORD DOES IT, WDYM?

[kharrneth]

Valkia is a daemon prince and has a proper daemon prince form like any other daemon prince.

However. When she comes to the mortal world, she uses her mortal adjacent form to interact with men, elves, and dwarves. This is calculated and there are several instances, pre and post ascension, of Valkia using her femininity as a weapon, best seen in Blood Raven.

Khornates are just like other daemons: They use promises of power and other things to tempt mortals into Khorne's worship ("You are a creature of blood as much as I am...You already walk the scarlet path, little angel, we both know it. Come witness Khorne's glory, embrace what lies within you. You could be so exalted, little champion."); Valkia's methods are bit different.

Slaaneshi Adjacent. Khorne is looking the other way and given his...proclivities so far I can't help but wonder if her being female might have something to do with it. It's implied in the book though that this is an effect Valkia has on Khornates specifically. Not daemon-worshippers do not see her this way:

Context: Bothvar is one of Valkia's champions, Eldgrim is a dwarf from a hold they're attacking.

Anyway, if my adhd isn't acting up, I may draw Valkia in her "full" damon prince form. The "half-daemon prince" is just what she shows the world.