#warhammer fic

[candyswirls]

Garm's Fit

Garm is a toddler and, as such, is prone to melt downs.

Master Post

Varska belongs to @jaghatai-khock, Hjarlin and Lorenzo belong to @gregariousbonesinger, Leon and Arlene belong to @meervalv0

Garm whimpered and wouldn't let go of Leman.

"No," he said sternly. "You can't come with. You have to stay here."

She pouted and looked up at Varska, who could only return a sorry smile.

Leman lifted Garm and reluctantly handed them over to Hjarlin.

"Be good," he said.

Hjarlin scoffed, "Me or her?"

Leman narrowed his eyes, "Both."

"You sure you're comfortable with ME taking care of the youngest?" Hjarlin questioned. "You know what happened with my twin."

Varksa bristled, holding tightly onto his blade. He shot a warning look to his brother.

Leman frowned, "I'm certain Garm will come out on top. Not only that, but you have your cousins here, you are on Lion's ship, and you know damn well what I'll do if I come back and she's harmed in any way."

Hjarlin averted his eyes. Garm struggled to get out of his grip, still vying to join dad and Big Brother.

Despite the whimpering and big eyes, they bid their goodbyes and boarded the ship.

The hangar closed, blocking off the vessel. Just in time as well. Garm jabbed their elbow into Hjarlin. He grunted and lost his grip. The toddler bolted past Leon to the door. They couldn't open it, though, and started to whine.

Leon pursed his lips at the sad sight. It had nothing to do with being handed off to Hjarlin. It was the fact that she couldn't go with.

Garm wailed and banged on the hangar door.

Hjarlin sighed, "He said you can't go. The ship has already left. There's no catching up to them now. He'll be back."

Garm let out a mournful howl and continued to scratch against the door.

Lorenzo chuckled at Hjarlin's frustration.

Hjarlin went to pick his sibling up when their sadness turned to anger.

Garm shrieked and kicked the door. They batted away Hjarlin's hands and stomped their foot, psykically demanding the door to be opened.

"No," Hjarlin said firmly.

He knelt down to pull her away, and she whined in protest.

In a flash, she whipped around and bit him on the cheek.

Hjarlin yelped and fell backward, gripping his face as blood began to well. Lorenzo's jaw dropped, and he laughed.

Garm growled, then dashed to Lorenzo, pushing him over from his seat. He cried out as he fell to the floor. Leon's jaw dropped.

Garm let out a screech of defiance and began jumping up and down, stomping her feet upon the ground.

Hjarlin snarled, "Enough!"

Garm kicked him in the legs and then made a rude gesture in sign.

"You're not GOING!" Hjarlin Barked.

Garm screamed again as Leon moved in to difuse the situation.

"Let's take a deep breath," he said. "Garm, would you like to -"

Garm bolted to where a rack of ammo was and turned it over. Bullet shells bounced everywhere. The surrounding Astartes were too slow to catch her. She'd been racing with Varska as of late.

"No!" Hjarlin yelled as he chased after his younger sibling.

Of course, when he decides to reunite with the imperium, he gets put on gremlin babysitting duty! He suddenly realized why Father wasn't at all worried that he'd harm Garm.

Garm knocked over a rack of tools, and the servitor seemed to sigh.

Lorenzo tried to catch the slippery little beast, but they bit him on the knee. He let out an indignant squeal of pain.

Garm ran to the bay doors and began kicking it again. She wailed, and tears began to come out as she grew in frustration.

Leon tried to gently approach again, "Let's go get food! We can go into the kitchen."

Garm turned their head to stare at Leon, then started crying harder.

They threw themselves upon the floor and began flailing and screaming in rage, tears flowing freely.

Leon tried to pick her up, but she went limp and kicked away his hand. Hjarlin was muttering angrily and tried to do the same. She resisted and won.

Hjarlin rubbed his temples as he crouched next to his inconsolable younger sibling. Servitors were already moving to clean up the mess, astartes assisting.

Garm managed to sign up at Hjarlin.

Stinky female wolf. Hjarlin grumbled.

Servitors quickly parted as Lady Arlene swept into the room, a calm expression upon her face. Dark Angels bowed to their legion mother.

"Mother," Leon questioned?

Arlene went right past them and picked up Garm. Even with them going limp, she easily lifted them. An army of children at this age kept her well practiced in these matters.

She held Garm to her chest and began rubbing her back. Garm sobbed and clung to her aunt, wrapping arms around her neck.

"There, there," she soothed as she left with Garm. "Let's braid your hair and make it all better."

Garm's crying faded, and Hjarlin sighed, flopping down to the floor. Leon smiled, thankful for his mother.

"I'm never having children, "Lorenzo stated as he rubbed his knee.

[ahrianee]

[🌌]Inter atramentum et stellas

[My English is so bad, I'm very sorry]

Here I am, entering the Warhammer 40k Fandom simply because I really liked the story, because of my boyfriend who liked it before, here I leave an unfinished sketch.

I feel a little shy posting here, it's my first time on Tumblr, be nice to this dumb girl who got into a fandom for a man with big tits and who knows how to use Excel.

[primarisly-marooned]

to serve pt 1

as promised, the Guilliman fic!

summary: You're an aide to the Avenging Son, the only aide to the Lord Regent. While serving him dinner you both make a discovery about each other.

pairing: Roboute Guilliman x F!Reader

warnings: bit of a food kink, feral behavior (Guilliman), threatening (?) behavior, oral fixation (Guilliman again), alluding to masturbation (reader), fic got to long so no smut but it does get a little nsfw, lemme know if i need to tag anything else!

part 2, part 3

tagging @beckyninja , @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond , @springtimeishere , @moodymisty , @vyzz-undercover, and @ailjsenutna bc they requested it! lemme know if you want to be added to the list as well

It was going to end tragically, he knew it would. All things ended this way it seemed, especially for the Avenging Son.

Denied his death, denied a life outside of the rotting corpse of his father’s failed dream, his brothers gone, his mother… Ten thousand years wasted in agony, only to inherit the Imperium. No peace, no happiness, denying himself even the basics of comfort in an effort to keep things from getting worse. All in order to keep his sons people safe.

But he could not deny himself you. A little kindness, a little humanity, is all it took for Roboute Guilliman to fall at your feet. Figuratively of course, not that you were aware of this. He made sure that there were no untoward actions from him, nothing that could be traced back to anything besides him having a favored aide. He was allowed to have preferences, encouraged even. So if he used that as permission to pull you from your normal duties to being essentially glued to his side at all times, well.

He was only doing what everyone seemed to expect, now wasn’t he?

You were a balm to his battered soul, seeming to almost literally light up the dark corridors of his ship wherever you went. The way you would smile at him when you completed the little tasks he asked of you. You treated him as a lord, yes. But as a man.

Not a god.

There was nothing holy about Roboute no matter what anyone thought. And behind his closed office doors with just himself and you, he didn’t have to be. He could be himself, bad jokes and all. He could enjoy your laugh, the way your skin flushed down your neck to your plush-

“My lord?”

Your voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he’s glad of it.

A glance to the side of his desk reveals you peering up at him through your lashes, hood tilted back enough to allow the candle light to illuminate your soft features. There was a soft smile on your face, a common expression when you were alone together. In your hands was his dinner, and a quick look at the time has Roboute grimacing. It had been hours since he last ate and even longer since he had left his office.

Truly, the Administratum had to be the greatest enemy the Imperium of Man faced in this age.

“Ah, yes,” he said abruptly, moving carefully in his armor to nudge stacks of dataslates and paperwork over enough to clear a space large enough for you to sit in. Roboute found his mouth watering already, and not just for the food. “Come, little one, this should be enough room.”

Your shy little blush comes with a rush of hormones he can all but taste in the air and his mouth fills with saliva. It’s truly depraved, for all that it started innocently enough. He is large, even by Astartes standards, what with him being a Primarch. And the Armor of Fate makes him even bigger, at the cost of his dexterity and sensitivity. It was unfortunate that he still needed to wear it most days, it’s life support a horrid fact of his current existence. Add all of this together, and Roboute found that eating was much more of a chore than he ever remembered it being.

And he had a long, long memory.

He has to swallow several times as he helps you onto his desk, one gauntleted hand under your thighs with his tray balanced across your lap. “It looks delicious,” he murmured, and it truly did, but it wasn’t the food that had hunger gnawing at him.

It was your clever, kind, debilitating solution to his food issue that had Roboute acting little more than a common beast.

Food that wasn’t nutrient paste was too difficult for him to bother with on his own truly he just didn’t want to spend hours cleaning smashed everything out of the delicate circuitry of his armor, but was easily handled in your much smaller grasp, and an offer to feed him led to this, the Lord of Ultramar leaned over you so he could catch a taste of your skin.

He felt no small amount of shame at this- this debauchery, but… this is only a small thing. A temporary indulgence.

Quitting you should be easy for one of his self control if this goes too far. You smile at him when you settle on his immense desk, almost dwarfed by the huge stacks of paperwork covering the surface. The sight of it makes his hearts clench in some unnameable emotion.

“Are you hungry, my Lord?”

Always, for you, almost leaves his mouth before he catches himself. “I could eat.” And he could. It takes a lot of calories to feed his frame, so no matter how many meals he gets to eat like this, that damnable nutrient paste is still needed as a supplement.

You were all he could smell now, sweet and warm, almost syrupy as his focus narrowed down to just you. Your delicate fingers, so small compared to him, picked up something he didn’t know the name of. A sizeable portion to one of your stature, but barely a mouthful to Roboute.

It was a game now, a challenge for himself to see how long he could hold out tasting your skin before he couldn’t anymore. The first bite was always the hardest, a mouthful of flavor exploding over his tongue as your fingertips brushed over his lips. A temptation to lick them is ruthlessly shoved aside as he puts his considerable focus onto you.

This was a time that you would tell him about your day, all the little tidbits of information you overheard or the tasks you completed. Rarely was it anything that Roboute needed to know, but he found that he couldn’t help but find every word that graced your lips as some form of sacred.

It was towards the end of his dinner that everything changed and Roboute’s legendary self control finally snapped.

A few pieces of his meal were left, smaller morsels that he shared between himself and you. Smaller bites meant he had to be careful, closing his teeth over your finger accidentally could snap it off without him even realizing. Something both of you are eager to not happen.

So a little overlap was expected at this point, his lips closing over your fingers, tongue curling under them so no crumb was wasted. It was his favorite part usually, something he could do to taste the salt of your skin and overwhelm his brain with your hormones so he can stop thinking for a while. But this time…

This time there was something extra to your scent. He had noticed something in the food, but didn’t think too hard about it. With your fingers in his mouth, it was all he could taste.

Sweet and musky, thick like honey and so overwhelmingly human, Roboute couldn’t help but close his mouth tighter over your fingers and lathe them with his tongue. By the stars, what was this?

Through the vague haze his mind had fallen under he could see that you were blushing deeply, from your chest all the way up into your hair. You were stuttering something as he gazed down at you, still sucking on your little fingers. The angle you were at allowed Roboute to see down the front of your dress and his gaze was drawn down your collarbone to the swell of your breasts pressed tightly together.

It was when his mind started filling with impure thoughts that it finally clicked what he was tasting on your hand, and his own face burned as he abruptly released you and leaned back. He had to put distance between you or he wouldn't be able to control himself anymore.

He was already painfully hard in his armor, and he meant that literally. A design flaw, clearly.

“Ah,” Roboute starts, at a loss to explain what came over him. It still lurked just beneath his skin, clawing at his stomach and howling in his ears. His lungs heaved for air, able to taste your confused arousal on his tongue. Involuntarily, he opened his mouth and breathed you in deeper. He leaned closer, armor scraping against itself as he loomed.

“My Lord…,” your voice is quiet, but he can still hear you. A little voice in the back of his head is growing louder, near purring at the way you lean back to make room for him. He can see the way you stare up at him with huge shining eyes and wet parted lips. Moving even closer causes you to draw a leg up and onto the desk, the other spreading wide to accommodate him this close to you. “Are you…” There’s a hesitation when you start to ask him a question, and Roboute manages to pull himself together enough to make an inquiring noise as he pushes his chair back to lean down enough that he can stick his face near your neck.

Roboute can feel the way your blood rushes through your veins and for a moment his head swims with the sudden need to bite.

“Do you still have a- hunger, Lord Guilliman?”

It’s the way you say his name, breathy and sweet that gives Roboute the push to open his mouth and lick the sweat off your skin. Your gasp is loud in his ears. “Yes,” is his hissed answer against your throat, lips against your fluttering pulse. “One that must wait to be sated.”

Your little hands, those perfect soft little hands, are featherlight against his head, brushing over his laurels and tracing the curl of his hair. “Why?”

Why indeed, he mused to himself, amused by the simple question. There was much you did not know, and the extent of which he needed his armor was one secret few knew outside of his most trusted. As much as he favored you, he couldn’t risk a breach. You were a weak point.

But one he refused to be parted from.

Another lick sent his brain back into the hazy almost-calm from earlier, your pheromones seeming to crawl through the grey matter of his brain and down his spine. Your fingers slowly thread through his hair and he hummed in quiet bliss, mouth opening against your skin as his arms came up to encircle you. Pain from his cock cleared his head a bit and he realized that he had opened his mouth entirely around your neck.

He felt you swallow against his tongue and fought the urge to feel it from the inside. Pulling back from you was a task almost too great for Roboute, but he managed. “Mm. Please, Little One,” he managed to work around the saliva pooling in his mouth. “Don’t come here again like that.”

Your pupils are blown wide and your skin is shiny. The expression on your face is one of confusion, and dare he say it, arousal. “What?”

Roboute was forced to clear his throat, trying to remove your scent from his mouth. “Your hand. I could… hm. I could taste you on your fingers.”

He could see your mind trying to process it, eyes squinting as you worked through his meaning. The moment you understood caused what he could only call complete and utter mortification to cross your face.

“Oh, My Lord- I’m sorry, please forgive me- I didn’t-”

“Peace,” Roboute  didn’t like the way shamed curdled your scent, bitter-sour overtaking the honey-sweet. “You did nothing wrong. I just request that you be mindful in the future.”

He didn’t know what expression was on his face, but he knew you understood from the way your gaze dropped from his and your hands slipped from his laurels into your lap.

Already he missed the touch of you against his skin.

“O-Of course, my Lord,” you give your assent, and Roboute has to fight everything in himself that wants to keep you on his desk and lay you out so he can feast.

Withdrawing from you completely felt impossible but he managed, and Roboute watched silently as you slipped off his desk and scurried to the door. But before it could open you turn and look back at him, a queer light in you eye. “Shall I return for your breakfast tomorrow, Lord Guilliman?”

He understood what you meant immediately and felt a dizzying sense of want rush through him. “Go.”

You flee from his office and Roboute is left alone in his prison made of his armor and a straining cock he can do nothing about for almost another full cycle.

A glance at his once-organized desk has him placing his head in his hands. Damn the Administratum to the Warp.

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

A Dove's Rest

Tags: Fluff, sexy bird back, general softness, Sanguinius being tired

Sanguinius x GN Reader 🩸🪽

To those that made me want to write this: @justeverythingnothingelse @yanagikou @druidwolf21 @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @justfreakynothingelse @twentyplusinterestsinatrenchcoat @little-miss-bioweapon121 @magnus-the-bed

  You had been waiting patiently for Sanguinius to come back, it had been a long week since you last saw him and he’d been looking more and more stressed, hardly having any time for you. Tonight, you were determined to take care of him. To give back what he had given you. 

It took a full hour before the Great Angel came into your shared bedroom. He looked tired and haggard, exhaustion clear in his face. 

“Come, my love, lay on the bed, you must be tired” You say to him taking his hand and leading him to the bed, he was already out of his armour, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his wings were held stiffly, little things that no one but you were able to notice. 

Sanguinius, on his part, doesn’t really find it in him to protest much and does as you say, laying on his belly and giving a faint groan that inadvertently escapes his lips. The groan is a little louder and a lot more pleasurable once you begin to massage his back. 

Oh, how magnificent it was, with all its different muscles; muscles that one couldn’t find in any other creature. Your hands begin to knead the tense muscles, starting up on  his shoulders and in between his wings. With how large he was, you ended up having to sit on his back in order to better massage it. He seems to relax beneath you touch and he quivers slightly when your hands release a particularly sore knot in his shoulder. It isn’t long until his feathers begin to fluff up and you know if you were to see his face, that his eyes would be half lidded in pleasure. 

A deep vibrating purr can be heard coming from his chest, and you can feel the vibrations both beneath you, and beneath your fingers. Sanguinius for his part, guides you to where you should massage, not with words, but more a gentle, although awkward nudge with one of his wings, and you end up massaging the muscles that don’t exist on even normal astartes that connect to his wings, for they’re the stiffest. Seems he must’ve had them folded tightly against his back for long periods of time again. He always got stiff like this when he did. Still you worked the muscle, pressing little kisses along his wings, earning delightful purrs and coos from the man beneath you; sounding more akin to a pigeon than the powerful primarch that he was. 

As you continue, his wings slowly begin to fall into a more natural and relaxed position, Sanguinius relaxing with each tender kiss and the ache of his muscles begins to slowly fade. 

It takes you a few moments to realize he must’ve fallen asleep because he doesn’t seem to be nudging you anymore, and he’s not leaning into your kisses. The most he’s capable of is a lazy cooing purr, and a half hearted attempt to get you beside him so that he could cuddle you properly. 

Laughing quietly at the puddle that happens to be named Sanguinius, you slide off his back gently and crawl beneath his wing. You are very quickly brought in close and he nuzzles your hair as he whispers, “Thank you…I’ll have to repay…” 

Sanguinius doesn’t get to finish his sentence before he’s fast asleep again, and you smile widely as you cuddle up close, soon falling asleep to the sound of his purrs.

[deleteddewewted]

Some More Astartes Headcanons

MDNi

W: Angst, Fluff, Just more thoughts i have

Space Wolfs call their younger brother/neophytes pups.

Blood Ravens steal things to make a pile out of their stolen things to share with other battle brothers their "shiny discoveries"

The Raven Guard brothers are all a bunch of knitting lovers and sunscreen addicts. Most of them being very pale and in general, preferring the shadows, most of them will retreat to their chambers to knit. It's to the point that they need to place large orders of knitting materials every so often and the serfs are in charge of distributing the appropriate materials to the right Astartes.

The rumors of the Carcharadons being mean to their serfs or being cruel are not true. It's all propaganda that they started so that they are left alone. Their serfs are all people who are family or old friends. Their truly just a bunch of secret softies.

Onto that serfs play into this too. For all the chapters, serfs also follow the chapter culture, which brings me to the idea that Lamenter serfs are all mainly cuddle buddies to their masters and are there to make sure they don't get hurt when not in battle.

Dark Angels are all super paranoid so they all suspected that their returned Primarch wasn't actually their returned Primarch.

Abaddon misses his father badly. Yes, he's a daddy's boy. He sometimes writes letters to his deceased father knowing that they will be left unread. He sometimes cries in silence as he reminisces the days when he and his Luna Wolves would simply spend time together and play a match of regicide.

Word Bearers hold bingo matches. Yes, they're studied and religious men, but that doesn't mean that they cant have fun. (Even as traitors they still hold these bingo nights. No daemons not serfs want to join them cause they think its boring.)

Dorns sons did eventually develop some emotional development and they are now the ones that people would consider the "funny ones" if they ever had the chance to meet one of them in that way.

Alpha legion Astartes who did not undergo cosmetic procedures to look like their father make fun of the ones who did (this is semi-canon), and often flex that. (I want to pull on Solomon Akurra's hair. It is a must.)

Salamanders are known for their kindness towards people and to each other, so why wouldn't that translate to other things? They respect the tech-priests and their beliefs, the guardsmen, the servitors. The Salamanders are so kind that they will help clean up and will make their favorite baselines/allies weapons. (This is also semi canon)

The Ultramarines have an accent. Yes, they all speak high gothic but i cant get it out of my head that they have either a Latin or a Italian accent. Im only saying this because we know accents are a thing in 40k.

Speaking of accents, Horus isn't faking accent, he really just didn't lose it and likes it. He thinks it keeps him attached to his roots. Makes him happy to have people recognize where his accent it from.

[stargazing-sapphire2]

What Hurts The Most

A/N: A small rewrite of a small one shot I wrote some time back, but did a wee bit of editing and gave it a title, so do enjoy some good ol Lion El'Jonson angst

*Title taken from What Hurts The Most from Rascal Flatts*

TAGGING: @beckyninja @candyswirls @staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty @nereidof40k @meervalv0 @jaghatai-khock

*~*

"Lion..."

He could not move, nor open his eyes. The inky blackness had been his constant companion for as long he was able to remember.

"Lion..."

A woman's voice called out to him, faint as he strained his ears to listen. He knew that voice, of which he had not heard for over millennia, but within the fog of his mind, he could not reach out to her.

Hands were on him. Stroking his hair, his face, and his chest. Even as he lay dormant, imprisoned within his own body, he felt himself relax under her touch.

"Oh, Lion..." He heard her sigh, her delicate fingers gently combing through his disheveled hair, as if it would bring a little semblance of neatness back into it.

He fought as hard as he could, to speak. He wanted to speak, to scream, to shout. But his very body seemed to work against him, and he continued to lay prone.

"What happened to you, my Lion?" Aelia's voice was soft. Her fingers continued to stroke his face and hair, much like the many times she did whenever he was injured, despite his reluctance to seek treatment. Her voice and touch had always been a balm to his weary soul, and his first instinct was to seek her out in those times.

He could not react, much less twitch, as he felt her gentle hands touch him. She cooed softly at him, and how he wished to open his eyes, to look upon her face one last time.

To hold her in his arms, if only to hold her close to him one final time.

He wanted to scream, to call out to his wife.

Forgive me, he wanted to say.

He had not been there when she died.

She had died alone. A bed of blood, a walk of death, and a fall onto those cold stones, never to open her eyes again or to draw breath.

And he was not there.

Not there when it had mattered most.

"I'm sorry, Lion..." Her touch has begun to fade away, as did her presence. Lion wanted to beg for her to stay, to not leave him alone again, but she was gone.

He could not move, no matter how he wished to, but a single tear slid down his cheek.

And he was alone. This was not the Crusade, and he was not on Macragge, holding her in his arms.

She was not there.

[echo-of-damnation]

Is It Really You

The only moment of true pain Konrad had ever felt.

Tags: death, loss of child, mentions of self harm, blood, gore, hurt no comfort

Word Count: 1640

Song: Is It Really You by Loath & Sleep Token

Konrad sat at the edge of the hospital bed, staring at your face, cataloging each freckle, each scar, each wrinkle. He followed the curve of your nose down to the faded pink of your lips and imagined every moment he was graced to see you smile. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in all of his years. No gods in this universe could have had the power to create something so lovely. In his arms he held the child you and him made. A gift he never thought himself worthy of. A creature so small and so perfect in his hideously scarred hands. He could remember the months leading up to this moment with vivid clarity. How he had held you in his arms as you wept tears of fear and joy at the thought of growing your child in her body. He remembered how he soothed you and whispered sweet words of adoration all while trying to hide the tears he silently let fall at the thought of being granted this gift.

Konrad never thought he would ever feel anything but the deep emptiness that swallowed him whole. Never did he ever imagine that anything could offer him the smallest respite in life that seemed to have been made just to bury him in unimaginable pain. Never did he think in his wildest dreams that someone would look at him, SEE him. To understand that he wasn’t just some dog set out to kill. Konrad was content to live his unnaturally long life rotting away in a hell he was made for, until he had met you. 

You had showed him compassion and understanding, a luxury forever kept from him. You were these when he was his absolute worst. When he would return from wars planets away, beaten and broken from the atrocities he not only witnessed but took part in, took sick pleasure in. It was what he was built for after all, in a lab by a father that would never see him as anything other than a tool in his pointless crusade. He hated himself once the high wore off and he came back down, covered in blood and gore. Unknown vicera hanging from his hands as bodies of the worlds he graced lay torn. Men and women alike, parts of them scattered across the streets. Their screams and cries ringing in his ears. Nothing could compare to the children he took though. The innocents he ripped from the worlds. He took so much pride in watching the light fade from their eyes, their weak cries for their long dead mothers forever ingrained in him.

Looking down at the babe in his arms he only felt it just that he wouldn’t be given the miracle of her. He thought it a blessing for her own sake. It was better that she never grow to know who or what her father truly was. No child deserved to be sired by a bloodthirsty monster. He felt it a mercy she was taken from him. Never even uttering a sound as she came into the world. Why should she bless her father with her voice when he tore other babes from their mother wombs. 

Her body was so cold in his arms. So small. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had vowed to the universe that never again would he be that beast his father made. He promised he would be better, do better. Throne did he try. You were there every step of the way to wipe the tears from his face when he had one of his painful visions of the future. You would hold his head to your round belly and tell him to listen to his childs tiny heart. To focus on that sound and follow it out of his nightmare. You were always there to temper his anger and soothe his anxieties.

Konrad could remember a time when he had lost himself. He didn’t know where or when but he wasn’t on the ship with you anymore. He was on some far off planet surrounded by the bodies of his brothers and sons, covered in their blood. He didn’t understand but he knew he had killed them all. When he looked down to his hands he held your lifeless body, still round with child. You stared blankly into the skies, the bruises from his own hands covering your delicate neck. A pained cry ripped him into pieces. It broke him down to nothing. The bottomless pit that grew in his heart seeing you there in his arms pulled him ever deeper into this nightmare. He still had the scars on his chest from when his body in reality had tried to rip his own heart out. You were there, pleading for him to wake up, to listen to your voice and to come back to you. He had almost destroyed his vocal cords from his screaming. All you could do was watch helplessly as he crumbled before you and you thought that surely this was it, that this was when you would lose him to the dark that lurked just below the surface. 

You pulled his head to your chest as a last ditch effort to at least ease some of the pain and in his hell, Konrad heard your heartbeat. It was so strong that he couldn’t help but follow it out. Your heartbeat accompanied by the child you had made together brought him closer to the surface. He gasped in air when he was back with you and all the two of you could do was hold each other and weep. Neither of you left the bed the day after that. Both of you afraid what the world would throw in Konrads moment of weakness. He should have known what the nightmare meant that day. Deep down he knew but he never entertained the idea.

Now there you were, laying lifeless in the hospital bed. When your labor started, the both of you were scared but you held his hand and promised it would all be okay soon. When the bleeding started, the apothocarians promised him that it was normal in the birthing process. He held onto your hand as you cried out in pain, your heart rate dropping ever so slightly. Konrad knew death, he was intimate with it. He was laid with it his entire life and in that moment he knew it was there in the room with you. 

When your heart stopped the apothocarians worked faster to try and save the child still in your womb. Konrad couldn't believe what was happening. All he could do was stare down into your eyes. He knew you were gone but he pleaded for you to wake up, to come back to him. He needed you, he couldn’t raise your child alone. The two of you hadn’t even thought of names yet. You were waiting to see her for the first time to decide. You had told Konrad that when you saw her face for the first time her name would come then. 

His sons had to come in and pull him away from your lifeless body, he had started to shake you in an attempt to get you to come back to him and it was complicating the process of trying to save your baby. The silence in the room was deafening as he watched them pull her out of you.

One of the female medicae frantically rubbed her, trying to get her to clear her little lungs and breath. Konrad could hear her quietly pleading with the baby to wake up and cry out, to say hello to all of them. Konrads heart broke that moment as each of the medical staff slowly removed their masks. Someone in the room read out the time and date as they moved her little over to where you lay. They placed her on your chest and wrapped your arms around her. From where he was in the room, he could trick himself into thinking that the both of you were merely asleep.

He couldn’t cry anymore after that. His sons led him out of the room, bracing him on each side. Half way down the hall he stepped out of their grasp and he silently walked away. No one knew where he went. He didn’t even know where he went. All he knew is that he walked and walked for hours until he came back here. They had cleaned you and the baby up. Putting you in one of your favorite white dresses. Someone had brushed your hair and carefully placed it under you. Your daughter lay in a crib next to you wrapped in a white blanket, a small pink cover sat on her head. One of her tiny hands was visible and Konrad tried to get her to hold his finger if only for a moment. After that is when he finally picked her up. Bringing her small face up to his, rubbing his nose against hers. She still smelt so new, like a powdery little doll.

That's how he had been for the last few hours. Sitting in the chair beside you, cradling the beautiful daughter you had grown in your body. No one came, the news had surely made its rounds by now. He didn’t know what else to do. He slowly moved your body on the bed so that you could rest against his chest as he sat behind you. Carefully placing your daughter back in your hands with his supporting them underneath.

That's how they found you all the next morning. No one dared wake him. After everything that had happened, he deserved a moment of peace.

[voices-of-favor]

I heard this is the hip and cool thing to do, so I am doing it too Introducing a new addi(c)tion:

Voices of Favor lore in story format, right on AO3

Here's the account, and for now (or rather for a while) the main work will be the so-called VoF saga

A short-ish story featuring most of the more important characters that are in (or are connected to) my homebrew chapter

Arguments! Aliens! Drama! Exposition! Action (soon)!

I will update it somewhat regularly (because I am still a very vanilla person with other responsibilities that leave little room for hobby writing), so stay tuned (and patient pls)

[literaly-pure-addict]

My "Rogal dorn in commoragh" little snippet

Maybe after I complete my main fic (or at least do the 2nd chapter) I'll start writing more about this one

[xx-rabidpossum-xx]

New Chapter Update!!!!

[candyswirls]

When my husband was getting me into it and showing me the models I said I would probably do Tyranids first because I thought all the other ones where ugly, especially space marines (Now they’re my first and favorite)

When my husband was telling me about the lore and the Primarch’s and how they can’t have kids I said “so none can have kids?” And he said “no, except maybe Fulgrim. He might be able to get pregnant right now.”

The week I got into Warhammer I didn’t care if I didn’t know enough, I made an OC race which eventually evolved into offspring of Primarch’s. I wanted feral and cute space kobolds

I have my next ten armies listed out for when I finish one. I will have all the models and all the factions

I have 291 wips and one shots of Warhammer fics and oc lists

TTS introduced me to Lucius first and I still imagine him like that.

I have threatened my husband that I will build a Tau army with only Kroot because he says he doesn’t really want them with all his crisis suits.

warhammer 40k confessions:

when i first heard of nykona sharrowkyn, i thought the character was a human woman.

i honestly envisioned magnus the red as looking like leman russ with black hair till i saw art for leman and magnus for the first time.

i enjoy john grammaticus.

reblog with your warhammer confessions?

[candyswirls]

Garm Pt 8 - Meeting Uncle Roboute!

Previous - Next - Master Post

Summary: Garm meets her uncle and the ultramarines. People are bit. Leman and Roboute reunion with a heartfelt conversation.

Garm motioned they wanted up as the thunderhawk landed, sensing others they didn't know.

He scooped them into his arms, and the door opened.

His pup visibly pulled back in shock as she took in the view of the bay.

They signed, 'Blue.'

"It is the color of the Ultramarines," he explained.

Ever the show of order and discipline, the Ultramarines present stood in neat rows, holding an arm across their chest in salute.

A large marine with a bionic eye was there to greet the entourage.

"Greetings, Primarch Leman Russ," he said. "I am Marneus Calgar, chapter master of the Ultramarines. We welcome you and your party. The Little Garm Russ included."

Garm stared intensely at the sidelines, gripping the braids in their father’s beard.

"Thank you, Lord Calgar," Leman smiled. "We are glad to be here."

Garm pulled on his beard and hummed.

Psyker!

They swung their legs, bells jingling.

Leman looked to where they stared to see a librarian, then back to Calgar.

"Forgive me for being forward," he said. "But might the librarian come forth and introduce himself? Garm is a psyker themselves and likes meeting fellow ones."

The chapter master looked pleased, "Of course."

The Librarian approached and bowed, "Lord, I am Librarian Varro Tigurius."

Garm kicked their legs faster and began squirming, wanting down.

He set them on the ground, and they ran up to the psyker, signing 'Hello'.

Tigurius smiled at her, "A pleasure to meet you, Little Russ."

Garm reached out to hold his hand, rocking on their heels.

"No love bites," Lemam reminded her.

Garm stopped and slowly looked back up at their father. Large eyes and pouting lips.

"No love bites," he said again sternly. "Not everyone will appreciate them."

Garm huffed, then went back to rocking and holding Tigurius's hand.

"Our Primarch awaits you in the strategium," Calgar informed him.

"Lead the way," Leman nodded.

Garm pulled Tigurius to come with, skipping alongside the entourage. Bells jingled. They brought up the rear of the group.

As they walked, he could hear wispy laughter coming from Garm and Tigurius humming occasionally. Garm sent happy thoughts to Leman. They liked this marine. He noticed Calgar and a few other marines look back.

Leman chuckled, "My pup has not the ability to speak. They utilize sign but also converse psychically with those they are comfortable with. They have taken quite a liking to this librarian. Garm is a good judge of character, and I trust their instincts as much as my own. If you aren't too attached to him, maybe I'll swipe him for my own ranks."

He grinned as Calgar laughed, "You are right about him being good. Unfortunately, we are a bit attached to him."

They entered the strategium deck, filled to the brim with astartes and mechanicus.

Garm broke away from Tigurius and came running to their father, motioning to be picked up again.

He did so and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Guilliman stood looking at a hologram map, back turned.

Leman had always found Guilliman annoying and hauty. Boring and stiff. He irritated him.

Yet, as soon as he spotted his dear brother... his hearts swelled. He could feel tears brimming as his throat tightened.

Garm leaned in and brushed away tears, looking worried.

"Happy tears," he told her. "I'm fine. Brother!"

Roboute turned around, and a smile grew on his face.

He laughed as he came forward to embrace Leman, "It is a relief to see you!"

Before they could hug, Garm lunged from Leman's grip and tried to bite Roboute on the nose.

Leman yanked her back into his arms before she could land, "Garmr Sigr Russ!"

She looked back at him innocently, wondering why they were being scolded. Leman looked to see bleeding scratches forming and healing upon his brother's nose. He mostly seemed shocked.

"Apologies, brother," he sighed. "This one is a bit wild and is very wolflike. They show a lot of emotion through their teeth."

"Worry not," Roboute assured.

Garm reached out for Roboute, grin on their face. They kicked their legs, bells ringing.

They stretched, hanging backward and reaching again.

Leman struggled to hold them back, "They definitely are in a playing mood, it looks like."

He set Garm down, and they let out a screech before running circles around Roboute.

The Ultramarine Primarch's guard watched wearily, unused to such a wild being, let lose near their primarch.

Garm settled themself between Roboute's legs, staring up at him.

"Hello, little one," he greeted.

Garm spotted one of the rosaries that hung from his waist. She caught it in her mouth and began tugging.

His brother laughed in amusement and reached down to pick her up.

Garm leaped into his arms, excited. She pulled herself up to his face and then paused. They looked back at their father, seeing if he'd scold them.

"Easy on the love nips," he said.

Garm turned back and was about to go wild. Then they paused. They sniffed, then gripped their uncle's face and smelled deeper. She moved his chin up and intook a breath near his neck.

She pulled back and let out a whimper before reaching gentle hands to his face. They pressed a kiss to Guilliman's nose and snuggled into their uncle. Her own nose pressed against his neck and scar.

Leman smiled and reached out to stroke his pups back, "They're very sweet, and their sense of smell is impeccably good. They can tell the wound was grievous."

The two Primarch's embraced finally.

Garm spat and pushed the two away with her legs, insistent on getting down.

Leman shook his head, "This one never stops moving."

She held onto Guilliman's leg and then suddenly snapped her head back to the Ultramarine next to them. He looked unimpressed and frowned at them. He was also standing too close for Garm’s liking.

As soon as the ultramarine glanced away, Garm attacked, aiming their teeth right for where ceramite exposed his body glove. Unfortunately, it was where the plate split upon the rear. They bit him upon his buttock.

"OW!" The marine yelled.

Garm snarled and pushed him away before going back to clinging to their uncle.

The marine looked like he wanted to burst. But he couldn't. It was a toddler who bit him and the offspring of a primarch.

He looked back to where he was bit.

"They broke through the body glove." He said, almost bewildered. "Skin too..."

Roboute kept his voice level, but wore a smirk. "Are you alright, Sicarius?"

He just nodded as snickers and chuckles sounded out from the surrounding marines. A tint of red grew on his cheeks from embarrassment.

"They bite hard," Leman said. "I'm afraid they didn't like how you were looking at them."

Sicarius held his tongue and proceeded to step forward. Garm growled a warning and snapped at him.

"They in protective mode," Leman warned, trying not to laugh. "Don't come close. My pup is used to hunting small-time warp creatures. I'm afraid they won't let you near at all."

"I am Commander of my Primarch's Victrix guard," Sicarius stated.

"You will need to apologize." Leman said, "My pup is very hard-headed."

"Stubborn like you," Roboute commented to his brother.

Garm glared at the Commander.

The Ultramarine visibly swallowed his pride, "My apologies, little Russ. I did not mean to offend."

Garm blew a raspberry at him, not budging. The commander was dumfounded.

Leman motioned for one of Garm’s guards. They came forward and pulled a cookie out of a pouch.

Garm perked up, staring at the treat as the guard handed it over to Cato. He nodded over to Garm.

Cato held out the cookie. Garm left her uncle's leg and took the treat. They began munching on it, visibly calmer.

***

Leman smiled as he watched below. Garm ran around below the platforms. The wolves he brought with him showed the various Ultramarines the games they could play with her. The Temari went flying as Garm chased it, giggling. A few Ultramarines had also participated in wrestling and roughhousing with her.

"A daughter," Roboute laughed with disbelief, offering a glass of wine to his brother. "Don't know how you managed that."

"Neither do I," Leman chuckled as he sipped. "No idea where she came from either. But she has been the greatest gift. The only reason I'm here today is them. Kept me going and gave me purpose. She is my very heart and soul. Sometimes, I think that Father orchestrated it and sent them to me, knowing I'd need them."

"They're three?" Roboute asked.

"Biologically, yes," he answered. "They age slowly, but if my internal clock is still correct, they're about 27 standard terran years."

"And they know full sign," his brother commented?

"Aye, they can speak fully and properly psykically, but she gets impatient, iterating it and will just send thoughts, feelings, and images. I wasn't able to teach them the way of the rune priest. With how things were in the warp, they're not at all interested in learning. One of my rune priests tried telling her about it, and they just threw up on him. Oh, that's another thing, if they want someone to get away, they will throw up. They're my best defense against high Lords and ladies."

Roboute laughed.

Leman took another drink, "They've definitely made me change my tune about psykers, though. I am... relieved that the edicts of Nikea are no longer effective. I just think of it happening to Garm and... I can't stand the very idea. They're my sweet pup. She's just little. Still sucks their thumb, will cry when scared. She's very confident right now being surrounded by marines."

He watched her tackle an ultramarine with an arm prosthetic. He laughed as she gnawed on it.

"She actually immediately noticed one of your librarians," Leman added. "Varro Tigurius. She's usually weary of new places, but meeting him first set her at ease. Made meeting everyone a better experience. Really likes him, and Garm will admit to liking very few people. I, of course, am the favorite, but telling me they liked him after barely meeting him... you've got a fine psyker in your midst."

Marneus Calgar stood back with the rest of the Victrix guard, but a heartfelt smile had grown across his face.

Roboute leaned against the railing, "You certainly have changed. We all have. It seems all for the worse. You, however, there is a certain... warmth. Despite everything, you've come out even more resilient. More, dare I say it, wise."

Leman chuckled, shaking his head, "How I have missed all of you. I am glad to be of your company. Also, it helps to have someone else who can try to keep up with Garm."

"She is so much like you," Roboute commented. "You punched Horus when you first met. They tried to bite me on my nose."

The Wolf King grinned, "They've also got my great looks. But cuter and prettier."

He went to take a drink, pleased at his brother's snickering, then almost choked.

"Everything okay?" Robojte inquired.

Leman sighed with a smile and rubbed his chin, "I just realized they'll never grow beard. I always had in my mind that she would one day. Just like all of my other sons."

Roboute snorted, "The years taking a toll on you?"

"More like Garm," Leman huffed. "More energy than me and never wants to rest. I found naptime to be more for my benefit, and I sleep more now. They are the lightest sleeper I have ever met. Any sound or movement, and they bolt awake as if never as sleep. But she is the child of a primarch and, therefore, a child primarch. This is just payback for all the grief I gave my mother wolf and all of the Vlka Fenryka."

Roboute rested a hand on Leman's shoulder and smiled.

"That one playing with Garm right now is doing well at keeping up," Leman commented as he glanced down. "He's stayed in longer than the others."

"That is Chairon," Roboute told him. "He has a good sense of humor."

Chairon had grabbed Garm and held them up in the air above him. Garm squealed and kicked their legs.

"Let's see if all helheim breaks loose at dinner," Leman muttered. "They're going to be covered in food."

"We have the bathouses," Roboute suggested.

Leman scoffed, "Good luck with that. She hates baths."

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

A Daughter's Rage

The rage she felt was potent. How dare he cast her aside like common trash? She was his eldest, his first, the one that had stood by his side when all else fell. Yet...he dared to disown her, to cast her from his name and strike it out. For what? Because she dared to speak up? That she dared to voice that she thought such perfection was unattainable, that there was imperfection within perfection. It was just what was natural.

But he had flown into such a rage then. Such rage, and she had said some unfortunate things back but she stood by them. If he were to disown her, to treat her as if she were dead, then she shall use the name Opal. For Opal was her mother, who gave her life in order for Zelda to live. A fitting name for her.

She does not think as she moves down the twisting passage ways. She does not think until she comes before a painting of her father.

"Why!? Why did you cast me aside!? When did I stop being enough for you? Your standards were always high, but attainable for the most part. Ambition. It's what allowed us to revolt on chemos. Yet...why am I suddenly nothing to you? Haven't I always been your loving daughter? Haven't I always given sound advice before? You never reacted like that before, so why now?"

The portrait does not answer and she wants to shred it to pieces as she bawls her hands into fists. Yet...she glances towards it again and the anger leaves her to be to be replaced by confusion. The Fulgrim in the portrait looks like...he's sobbing? Yes he's sobbing. Whereas before he'd looked proud as he did in all his portrait. But this...he suddenly looked like a man racked with agony.

What..? What could've- The figure moved and she stared in shock as the Fulgrim within the portrait mouthed the words "I'm sorry" before it forcibly returned to the position she found it in. She was certain it was her father, it had felt like him in the way it hadn't for a long time. Which meant...wait if his soul was here...

Then what was the thing that just disowned her..?

[ahrianee]

I finally got around to rendering this... Emperor, please guide me so I don't get lost in my despair (╯˘ -˘ )╯

[🌌]Inter atramentum et stellas

[My English is so bad, I'm very sorry]

Here I am, entering the Warhammer 40k Fandom simply because I really liked the story, because of my boyfriend who liked it before, here I leave an unfinished sketch.

I feel a little shy posting here, it's my first time on Tumblr, be nice to this dumb girl who got into a fandom for a man with big tits and who knows how to use Excel.

[stargazing-sapphire2]

It was absurd thing to say given the situation, but it was the first thing that sprang to Canaan's mind.

Nala slowly turned to her cousin. A storm of emotions whirled across her face - offense, disbelief, gratitude, sadness; of which all Canaan could do was stand there awkwardly.

Volcanic red eyes filled with tears, and Nala looked away. She hunched over herself, covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook with barely contained sobs, as she fought to hide her grief. Grief for a mother, a father, and a life that was all gone, and she was unable to mourn for it until this precise moment.

Unsure of how to respond or console her, Canaan slowly put his hand on her arm, stiff beneath his touch.

Finally, Nala uncovered her face, sniffling as she wiped at her nose with the sleeve of her dress.

"I hate winter," she whimpered, and the depths of her sorrow were conveyed in those three simple words.

Canaan dropped his hand, and turned to stare out at the large glass window.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.