#rating primarchs
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Rate the Primarchs by whether or not they would wear a dress/skirt. Possible bonus points for the fabulousness of said dress or their expression while wearing it.
I mean, if you want to get technical, some of the cultures that the Primarchs are based in do have like.. masculine-esque 'dresses' sooo...
Primarchs that 100% wear a dress/skirt (and look great):
Fulgrim (Designed his own), Roboute Gulliman (not too far off from togas and the like), Lorgar Aurelian (same reasoning), Perturabo (some sort of skirt/kilt sorta thing ngl), Leman Russ (look me in the eyes and tell me he WOULDN'T wear a kilt. I dare you.), Magnus the Red
Would Wear A Dress/Skirt (But wouldn't dare admit that it looks good):
Ferrus Manus (convinced by fulgrim), Corvus Corax, Konrad Curze (but would shred it in seconds/not appreciate it because it's not good ), Jaghatai Khan (vibes, honestly?), Lion El'Jonson
Would Absolutely Destroy Everything Including the Dress (good luck getting it on them):
Angron, Konrad Curze, Rogal Dorn (100% Refuses it), Mortarion
Way Too Go with the Flow for their own good (Will wear it, doesn't care much about it, kinda just wants their normal clothes/commits to it for the bit):
Sanguinius, Horus, Alpharius/Omegon, Vulkan,
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I seen Gillamen and Vulkan with their pregnant so but what about other Primarch?
Like Lion El Johnson, Corvus, and Horus around their pregnant partner who is near time to give birth to their child?
[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]
Author’s note: I saw Corvus, I write Corvus. It's kind of short but I hope you like it.
Relationships: Corvus Corax/Fem!Reader
Warnings: Tokophobia, pregnancy, Not much else really
Corvus was far from pleased about being so far from Deliverance. Terra was a planet that didn’t bring him much joy or fondness, beyond it being the heart of the Imperium, and the place of his creation.
But he grits his teeth and bears it, because he has to.
He has to for you. You’re heavily pregnant now, and the growth rate and pain of carrying the child of a primarch has begun to take its toll. Beyond what Deliverance can assist you with. Terra has the best that is available, and so he bears it.
He doesn’t have to carry around a being you weren’t meant to carry, so he does it in silence.
“I would’ve done the same, if I was in your position.”
Sanguinus’ face has softened expression slightly after Corvus’ surprise declaration. He had vaguely known he had someone at Corvus' side, but the idea of them actually being able to have biological children was much more of a surprise.
Food for thought, Sanguinus kept to himself.
“Baal is my home, but I can’t deny that what Terra has created far outweighs what my smaller planet could provide. I don’t blame you for bringing her here.” Corvus doesn’t find much usefulness in the statement, but he somewhat appreciates the attempt at sympathy. His hands shift on the massive ornate railing that overlooks more of the palace.
Corvus nods at him, but it doesn't take a keen eye to notice that he isn't much in the mood for more conversation. Sanguinius decides to keep it brief and let him return to his ailing beloved.
“Tell her I say hello and I wish her good health, yes?" The angel clears his throat in an attempt not to laugh. "But avoid telling Guilliman about this until he's in a better mood, he’ll pop a vein in his forehead.” Corvus rolls his eyes not at Sanguinus himself, but the fact that what he said isn’t out of the realm of reality. He leans up off the railing, and nods to the other primarch.
“I will.”
Corvus with a slow gait enters the room, only to see you standing and reaching your hands towards the massive, vaulted ceiling.
“You should be in bed.” He says, and you sigh. Not even a moment before he's already reprimanding you.
“I know. I just wanted to stretch a bit.”
Corvus turns his gaze from you and to the bed, where your raven, caws softly and hops around on the blankets; Eagerly awaiting your return to it. As he gifted the bird to you young, it’s more of a pet than anything. It has served it's purpose as being your gift, his way of asking for you at his side. If you want it to just be a companion, then that's your prerogative.
You slip back into bed moments later, and Corvus comes to your side. The raven knows to behave better around him, and decides to plop itself close to your hip and fluff it's feathers with a contented warble.
“How are they?” He asks, though from experience you know he’s referring to you as well as your child.
“The same. I think they’re asleep now, I haven’t felt them move.” Corvus puts a hand to your belly, and indeed doesn’t feel anything until you move, and the baby kicks his palm. He catches your wince. he doesn't say anything, though you end up doing it for him.
“Corvus,” You say, looking at him. “I’ve never felt this bad in my entire life. I still have a bit left, I don’t know if I can keep up at this rate.” He sighs.
“I know.” He looks away from you for a moment, though his hand still stays firmly on your stomach.
Perhaps this is the punishment he gets for daring to be selfish, he thinks to himself. To see the one person he loves in pain because of him. Though he thinks of a recent happening and softens expression a bit, and you call him on it, a curious smile on your face.
“What?”
Your raven picks at your hair in an attempt for your attention, and you scratch his wing before he hobbles away.
“My men have asked about you, since we left Deliverance. They seemed worried you were close to death.” The ones who stayed back haven't been updated on anything since he's left, and while there are many Raven Guard on Terra, it's much harder to communicate with his men that are now so far away. You laugh, rolling to your side and facing him to take the pressure of your back.
“Well, I feel like it.” Corvus, his hand still on your belly the entire time, leans in and kisses your forehead. He wonders how you can be so morbid yet cheerful at the same time.
“Rest some more. Then I might have you speak to my sons so they know you’re still in good health.”
They’ve become more attached to you as time has gone by, and while some hesitate to trust or welcome you, many have begun to open up and allow you in. Perhaps they've realized that you offer more than you impede; Or they've simply acquiesced to Corvus' desperate desire to feel human.
You grip Corvus’ larger hand softly, squeezing his fingers before speaking.
“Let me at least eat first. I’m starving.” Another curious aspect about this whole thing; Your hunger is near never ending. Corvus dares to crack the slightest smile.
“Fine. I’ll have the serfs bring you something.”
He sees your satisfied smile, and leans in once more to gently kiss your lips. Once he pulls away he gives your raven a scratch on the head, before leaving.
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Tiny Visions
Author's note: Part one of The Emperor of Mankind raising the baby primarchs! Next
tagged: @egrets-not-regrets
warnings: dehumanization of the primarchs, dehumanization of infants, Warp Fuckery
Summary: Several of the Very Tiny Primarchs warp powers begin to manifest themselves at the same time, while still in their gestation pods. The results of this cause the Emperor to order them to be pulled from their gestation tubes as very young infants.
The tireless and careful work of over a thousand years' worth of genetic testing, engineering and tinkering lay slumbering in twenty maturation pods. Hundreds of anxious scientists watched every readout on the monitors, every twitch that the infant super-soldier generals made as they slept and grew in their incubation chambers, worried that if they did not keep their tense vigil, something terrible would happen and one or more of the little ones would be lost, and His Excellency would be furious… Or worse, disappointed that something had happened to one of his currently tiny creations.
Each of the twenty tiny primarchs floated in their numbered pods, what they may dream of was unknown to any of the scientists who kept monitoring them constantly. This project was intensely secret - from the moment that each of them had been brought onto the project (anywhere between months to decades ago) they had never left the underground palace genetics laboratories, lest the enemies of the Emperor of Mankind find out about what was being created in the sprawling complex. The Thunder Warriors were… They had been a success, yes. But their genetic enhancements had been unstable, and they had taken very poorly to the uneasy peace that the Emperor, His Custodes and Thunder Warriors had created across Terra, ending the shattered factions that Terra had long-descended into in the endless Night that Humanity as a whole was only beginning to crawl out of, and only by the grace and aid of The Emperor and the other Perpetuals who had lent their guiding hands and keen minds to the task of Uniting Terra.. And eventually, to reach out to the scattered and lost pockets of Humanity still lost to the Long Night that had consumed the galaxy.
The Primarchs were due to be released from their gestation pods within the next several months, if the meticulously gathered and reviewed data continued to show the signs of their growth and maturation within their tubes at the rate that they were currently growing at. There was some uncertainty as to just what physical age the little soldier-generals would be once they were released from their maturation chambers, given the fact that they would stand larger than even the Legiones Astartes that they would be commanding once fully mature. Still, it was none of their places to question how long the little generals would sleep and grow within their maturation chambers, merely watch and ensure that they got the nutrient slurry infused into their -
Primarch Eight began to thrash in it's sleep, tiny fists flailing, mouth opening in closing and head thrashing back and forth in clear signs of distress, causing dozens of alarms to go off. His dedicated team of geneticists rushed over to his chamber, frantically reading the sudden change in vital signs and movement - the little ones commonly moved a little, but were primarily stationary as they grew.
Primarch Nine began to thrash and wail as well - his tiny wings flaring out and causing him to be propelled against one wall of it's maturation pod and bounce off, it's tiny fists and feet flailing. It's mouth opening and closing in silent wailing. Nine's team rushed over to try and figure out what had set the little general off, their voices low and frantic.
Primarch Fifteen, who was the most deeply connected to the warp according to The Emperor and Lady Erda, turned an even brighter red and began wailing and flailing in it's pod as well, possibly in response to two of it's siblings suddenly reacting in distress to some sort of stimuli that none of the assembled baseline human scientists could begin to fathom.
And then, to the tremendous distress of it's entire team, primarch fourteen decided to Cause Problems because it's siblings were being rambunctious by teleporting outside of it's gestation pod. Again. It teleported several inches off of the ground and would have hit the ground with a wet thud (and probably start to wail at the top of all three of it's lungs) had not a pair of large, darkly tanned hands not suddenly grabbed the tiny primarch out of the air. "Fourteen, what have I told you about teleporting outside of your pod before it's time to leave, hmm?" The Emperor of Mankind rumbled, staring down at one of his future generals.
The baby Primarch with short, ashy white hair plastered flat to his skin by the incubation fluids opened it's golden eyes and stared up at it's creator and Lord. It's gummy, toothless mouth opened and it wailed tiny hands balling into fists as it flailed at the indignity of being cold, as the thick, sticky incubation fluids quickly began to chill the tiny primarch.
"Neoth, give him here, he's cold." Lady Erda ordered, lightly swatting at the emperor, having removed her clean jacket and began to wrap it around the infant primarch, rocking him back and forth, murmuring in a low, soothing voice "Shhh, shhh ,shhh. Mama is here, little one. I know, it's bright and you are cold, and some of your brothers are very upset. That's why mama and papa are here. To see what has upset you so. Come on now, stop crying for mama, you're safe now. There's a good boy."
Fourteen stopped crying at the sound of one of it's creators' voices, golden eyes wide, as a tiny fist was shoved into it's mouth. It leaned it's damp head against her chest, it's breathing slowing down to normal, before it's eyes slid shut and it began to sleep.
The Emperor of Mankind had left Fourteen in Lady Erda's capable hands, walking over to where Eight's, Nine's and Fifteen's teams were gathered and frantically trying to figure out why the three infant primarchs had started to thrash around and wail within their incubation chambers. Apart from distress-related vitals changes, there was nothing that any of the mortals could discern was wrong with any of the tiny primarchs.
"Imperator! We-" The lead scientist started, bowing deeply as he spoke, going silent as the large perpetual raised a silencing hand.
"Eight and Nine are having visions, and Fifteen is currently psychically connected to the two of them. The visions are not happy ones, which has upset all three of them. While I had intended on letting them incubate in their pods until they were physically toddlers…" The emperor's gaze focused for a moment on Lady Erda, who was still rocking a sleeping Fourteen and humming a lullaby to it. A small frown pulled at his lips "Will they be stable, if removed from their gestation pods?"
"S-sire?" Several scientists stuttered at the same time, eyes widening in surprise.
Amar Astarte walked over, grabbing the most recent readouts collected on each of the infant primarchs. "They should be able to survive outside of the pods. I thought that the plan was to wait until they were toddlers physically, before releasing them from their gestation pods? That way they would have a degree of independence before starting to be trained, sir. As infants they will have different developmental and physical needs… Also none of them should be capable of doing much more than rolling over on their own… Warp-based power shenanigans notwithstanding, my lord."
"… Nine and Eight have visions of what will happen, if they stay in the gestation tubes for that long. It is not a future I wish to see come to pass." The Emperor responded, the frown on his face deepening. While he could dismiss Erda from the project - and Amar as well… Part of him would rather that not happen. Both of them were incredibly talented geneticists and incredibly useful to him.
"… There is also the fact that we've been getting some rather… Unusual readings from Primarch Twenty's pod. It's abilities keep us from doing a visual check of it without removing it from the gestation pod entirely, I would advise caution in twenty's case." The geneticist warned The Emperor, frowning a little as well.
"Hmm? No, their readings are fine. They're a perfectly healthy set of twins." The Emperor corrected, placing one hand on the glass of Nine's pod, the other on Eight's as he sent a psychic wave of calm and peace their way, to get the little ones to stop thrashing and crying in their pods. He wasn't expecting three new minds brush clumsily up against his own in response, filled with innocent curiosity and fear. The emperor again pulsed calm-care-safety to the three fussing infant Primarchs. Fifteen - who he had most contact with - settled down immediately. Nine fussed for a couple more seconds before settling down. Eight, from whom the most concerning visions of chaos-tainted Astartes had come from fussed until he reached out to eight's mind once again and sent more soothing thoughts and feelings to the very fussy dark-haired baby. Eight finally settled down.
"… Oh. When do you want to begin decanting, sire?" Amar asked, slightly taken aback at his answer.
"I will need to ensure that the wing of the palace for the twenty of them is fully furnished and baby-proofed… Decant them in two weeks, beginning with One. I will increase the security around these labs and the Gellar field that protect them from outside warp influence. Three full squads of Custodes will be at each location, and I will have Valdor be watching over them directly. Do not interfere with their protective details." The emperor ordered "Back to your standard duties. Eight, Nine and Fifteen are already back in their slumbering states…" He let his voice soften and warm a little as he looked upon Erda, who was still rocking a sleeping Fourteen in her arms. Something about the sight stirred something very old in his heart briefly, but there was much to do, and she was a potential future traitor to his glorious cause. "Erda, the Primarchs' rooms aren't ready yet. Fourteen will need to go back into his pod for his own safety."
Erda sighed, cuddling Fourteen a little closer (the little Primarch whining wordlessly a little in his sleep) before nodding in agreement "You're right. Alright, sweetie, time to go back into the pod. Remember, mama loves you and your brothers." She pressed a kiss to it's forehead as two members of Fourteen's team opened it's gestation pod and brought it over for Erda to lower the tiny general into, which she did without complaint.
#my writing#warhammer 30k#the emperor of mankind#Erda#the primarchs#mortarion#sanguinius#magnus the red#Konrad Curze#Amar Astarte
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Hi Jame! I'm looking to get into Warhammer bc someone I care very deeply about loves it a lot and I want to connect over it. We already talk about it a lot, but I feel bad when I can't remember things or don't understand what he's talking about. Do you have any tips for understanding What The Fuck Is Going On and getting to know some of the major players in the lore? Thank you. Blessing of one thousand epic beasts (wh40k figs) for your troubles
Warhammer is very simple. The narrative is “what if Star Wars was worse in both a literal and narrative sense” and the best way to learn about it is to latch onto a faction you like (like a sucker, or eel) and figure out how they relate to all the factions you don’t know about or can’t stand. Lots of lore videos detail fascinating tales of poorly written novels!
So For example, I tricked my best friend into getting into warhammer by explaining the necrons, and slowly by telling them about the lore of the factions that fought the necrons, have tricked them into getting admech, tyranids, space marines, Rogue traders, and soon chaos at my earliest convenience
(Also once you figure out the naming conventions for characters everything becomes super clear. There’s a demon primarch who is fueled by a supernatural rage by the god of war, his name is fucking Angron)
It’s twelve deeply unserious settings wearing a trench coat to get into an R rated movie. Yay!
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to kiss a Thunder Warrior
A/N: I trackdrifted from Aphrodite’s Cell into this. Please do not bang the Thunder Warriors, this is definitely heresy and I totally do not condone it! Small drabble.
P.S. I know no other Thunder Warrior. I am sorry.
Relations: Ushotan/gn!reader
“So if you're looking, you will find me standing next to him
Kissing underneath the palm trees, feigning for his sin
I don't care if it's not righteous, I don't give a damn”
What does it feel like to kiss a Thunder Warrior?
Rough, unrestrained, a trace of whiskey and the acrid taste of combat-stimns. The undercurrent of blood boiling just beneath it all. Bones and muscle and all rough edges, occasionally tinged with a laugh as ragged as barbarian armor as Ushotan pulls back a chuckle still trailing from his strained voice. Hands, trailing around his thick neck, fingering the scars that were inlaid there, ignoring the way he shivers and groans as fingernails tease over the rim of his neural interfaces, the tubing old and harshly integrated in a Thunder Warrior’s frame but still functional. Barely. His scars, so close, the primarch himself purring in a ragged growl, like the hiffing of the run down engine, but still snarling against its own demise, still powerful underneath all that rot. The way his storm-grey eyes briefly slip closed as he tolerates hands tugging against his cropped hair and the occasional mischievous drag on his tabard. The Thunder Warrior still surprisingly playful as he lets himself be tugged, how he follows his darling lazily, without a care in the world, his grin somehow both brash and with that cynical jesting he was know for. The clanking of his armor. The soft hiss of the servos as he helps detach the seals, unarmoring him in silence now, without even another sharp joke from him except for his ragged voice.
He’s almost hot to the touch. Thunder Warrior metabolism. Embracing was like hugging a furnace, meant to burn bright and short and then burn itself out. Only one heart, originally meant to be claimed - literally - at the hand of the captain-general.
You saved him from that fate.
(It’s a good distraction, at least. A good distraction to forget what Valdor did to him. The way he held him. The way his gauntlets had felt, so cold against his neck, warmed by the fresh blood. The nightmares, the snarls, the screams. The silence of the utter violation, the treachery, the bones upon the first. The death from which no soul could recover. The snow will never spare him as long as he lives.)
There is no hint of that trauma. No hint of that sorrow, that guilt, the hollowness beneath that false bravado he wears, only the liveliness as he eagerly returns. As restrained as he was, he was still a Thunder Warrior. He couldn’t help but be rough, possessive, almost too greedy as he nips and unkindly manuveers his beloved close enough to nip surprisingly sharp bites, lips curled into a grin even when he was nearly rough enough to draw blood.
(Of course, no Thunder Warrior could call themselves sane. They lost their sanity when they were strapped upon that dissection slab so long ago.)
Almost playfully, he sometimes growls during the kisses. He’s frisky, this one. You can feel his heart rate speeding up, rising from its usual lumbering pace to a pace akin to the battle frenzies his brethren had. The way he playfully traces and teases, smug and arrogant and somehow still a glorious bastard even through all he had suffered. Rough and ragged and flamboyant, without the same frost the Astartes had. He was, after all, a man. A man that was made to die a demigod, and entombed in golden armor.
The way he laughs as his lover pushes him down, his broad frame crashing against the bed. Thunder Warriors played, they had their games, they wrestled, tackled and grappled. Ushotan was no exception. The same rough playfulness shines through as he grasps the darling that had dragged him from the snow and the frost and easily rolls over to pin them down beneath his greater bulk, smugly stretching overhead.
(That bastard.)
(That playful bastard.)
(It’s a wonder how he never learnt the meaning of punishment for insubordination).
The way he sounds both like the growling roll of a mountainslide, and somehow playful like the purr of an ancient cat. How large hands cup around his lover’s neck, the Thunder Warrior not resisting as they reverse his position, chuckling slightly as he was the one pinned down this time, although his storm-blue eyes still showed a hint of smug humor.
“Hmph. Surprise me a little less next time, will you?"
#warhammer 40k#wh40k#constantin valdor#sculptor of crimson#warhammer#wh40k writing prompts#adeptus custodes#thunder warriors#emperor of mankind#ushotan#ushotan x oc#ushotan x reader#thunder warriors x reader
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Hello🌹You can write something about Sanguinius, with a reader who has the reputation and behavior of Ciaphas Cain and that the reader is very attached to the angel and his legion. In general, if you have a better idea, then it's even better😊 just make it Sanguinius with a cool reader. Thanks in advance💚🖤❤️💙
Bet you thought i forgot about this. But I didn't....I just forgot where it was that i was writing it.
It's also not exactly on character i got way more self deprecating with it.
Rating: G
No warnings just the usual 30kness.
The angel didn't think his hearts could take much more of this. His hearts were racing in a panic as he flipped over the mangled haul of a rhino, anxiety rising as he prepared for the worst.
Instead, he found you scuffed but alive in a natural groove in the earth. As if the dip had been placed there specifically for your tiny body to fall into.
"Hi honey, how's the battle going?" You joked. He didn't think it was funny at all, but it'd have to wait. The battlefield was no place for a lover's quarrel.
"We are going to discuss this later." All around the both of you, his legion was pushing back a massive invasion of Orks. And just to the side of your exploded rhino was the charred remains of their war boss, his head half gone from the explosion that'd rocked the battlefield, drawing the angel's attention in the first place. What remained was a mangled mess that snarled up hateful and defiant even in death.
Your half cooked plan had paid off. Much to your delight. "YES! It worked! Look, Sanguinius, I got him, I got the war boss."
"Yes, I see. You did well." Sanguinius said quietly, picking you out of the dirt where you still sat celebrating your victory over the massive green skin.
Sanguinius looked down at it, and the corners of his vision tinted red as he swung his blade down in one hate filled swing, taking the rest of its head clean off in one mighty blow. It'd threatened your life, and he hated it for that. He suddenly found that he hated all of these green life forms, dead or alive. And none of them could be left standing.
Sanguinius's fist clenched around the hilt of his sword. No, he had to get you back to safety.
"I'm taking you back behind the lines."
"Yeah, okay." Your voice came out in a squeak without much protest.
Still his irritation spiked, already heightened by the natural aggression instilled by his gene flaw. "You were supposed to stay behind the lines. I only agreed to let you come because you promised to only watch and vox me if their movements became irregular. You didn't do that. You did exactly what I asked you not to do."
“Yes I know, but I can explain ... .once you’ve won that is.” You hurriedly insured, wanting very much for him to get you back to a “Safe” distance.
Sanguinius sighed, he had to admit that you'd never gotten hurt so far. Never anything more than a scratch or bruised. It was like you'd be supernaturally blessed with the gift of luck.
No. Not luck. It was just your tactical mind thinking ten steps ahead. Luck was superstitious, and his father would scoff at the suggestion.
Sanguinius took to the air, with you wrapped up in his arms. "My dove, I understand you want to help and fight. But you are so precious to me."
Internally you scoffed, but externally you gave him a firm look, as if to convince him that you weren’t some soft little coward who secretly did want nothing more than to stay on his flag ship and sip expensive beverages and eat fine foods.
"I won't get hurt though, I'll be fine. Ask any in your legion who saw. I was holding on just fine before the war boss even showed up." Of course he didn’t need to know that the only reason you were on the field to begin with was that a bomb squig had chased you out of your relatively cushy, covered position.
He landed, back-winging gently as he set you on your feet. "You will stay here behind the lines where you promised to stay the first time."
There wasn't much you could do to argue with a primarch. But just to make sure he called out to the closest marine who turned eagerly when his primarch addressed him.
"Watch her. This time, she is to stay here and watch."
Some prideful part of you wanted to be mad, but his voice was all patience and gentleness. You couldn't stay angry, he’d understand later, once you’d had time to explain.
You turned away from the fighting, not wanting to think about the thousands of gnashing teeth and cruel eyes of the enemy that almost saw to your destruction that day.
It might have been cowardly, well no, it was. But that’s what you were by nature, even if no one but yourself recognized that.
Deep inside yourself you wished to be a hero, wished to be as valiant and stalwart as those you loved and occasionally fought alongside. You wished you could really be the person people saw you as. Some great humanitarian and a worthwhile individual who didn’t just luck your way into these victories.
You could see the retreated populace in the distance. Wounded and tired. They needed rest and shelter. Then an idea came to you. Maybe you could be a hero today. Even in some minor capacity.
When the green skins had at last been driven back into a valley and trapped, Sanguinius left them to be cleaned up by his legion. They would be easy to finish off now. Trapped as they were.
He found you working, still with his faithful Son by your side. He relieved the marine of his post and sent him to finish the battle.
"The battle is nearly over. We'll be heading back to the Red Tear soon."
You didn't respond verbally, just nodded.
Your eyes were fixed on the tent pole in your hands as you secured it against the planet’s powerful breeze. The civilians were receiving care and being served small meals as an immediate relief effort.
"I want to continue helping set up the tents and serving the meals."
"I know." He couldn't apologize, he hadn't done anything wrong in ensuring your safety, but he still felt as if he'd had.
"The orcs have been driven back, can I stay to help now?" You asked.
He nodded and offered a hand to secure the tent’s pole, you let him take it. You smiled and moved on to the next pole. 'Good, at least she doesn't hate me.' Sanguinius thought.
The whole company stayed several days longer than expected. The orks were long dead, their bodies burned. You'd insisted on staying and giving aid, it was the charitable thing to do.
The people thanked you all profusely. Some gave near religious bouts of praise to them.
Sangunius took their thanks for the extended aid as he always did. With humility, and grace. But there was a bit of selfishness to it. He wanted you to be happy with him again. It didn't take long for that to happen but he still took those extra few days to ensure it. Not that you gave him as much time anyways, not with the amount of injuries that needed attending and the amount of mouths there was to cook for. You'd been going almost non-stop, helping loved ones reunite, helping burn those that were dead by the hands of the orks and burying those that died after.
The humans began to look to you as some sort of authority or guide. Seeing you lead them and the respect the people held for you made his heart flutter and his wings ruffle.
He'd need to get you alone sooner rather than later.
This wasn't the place for all that.
When there was enough order at last he ordered everyone to begin returning to the Red Tear.
"My love?" Sanguinius addressed you as you both arrived on the ship.
You turned to look up at him. “Yes, my Angel?”
He felt a thrill of excitement shoot up his spine and his wings practically hummed, he loved when you called him that, mostly cause you only called him that when you were happy. But he pushed it down and maintained his calm and casual air. “May we speak in my office?”
You nodded and followed him across the ship. A little light in his long shadow. Still despite how little you felt people still whispered your name as if you were some hero of the imperium. Passing voices recounting your "heroic" deed of killing the warboss. They didn't even know the faintest hint of the truth. You looked up to watch Sanguinius, in all his regal beauty. He was too good for a coward like you, was all you could think.
His office was as lovely as the rest of the ship and you made an effort to use admiring it to avoid the upcoming conversation. Sanguinius was generally good at reading you despite your best efforts. He stayed quiet and let you have some time, he could sense you needed it. But it couldn't last forever.
"You've been in my office many times. Surely the trimming can't be all that new or exciting to you, darling." Sanguinius urged at last.
"Speak for yourself, I just noticed a brand new spot I've never noticed before, and it is delightful."
Sanguinius smiled despite himself.
"You know why I want to talk."
It was true, you did. But you didn't want to have to explain that you were a coward to your dauntless lover.
"I know." Was all you could get out before your throat tightened and the first few tears dropped unbidden from your eyes as you continued to avoid meeting his gaze.
The sight of your tears had an immediate effect on the man, primarch or no he was still your lover and he hated seeing you distressed. He reached for you and you let him take you into his arms. His wings followed, wrapping you up in their power and protection.
"Darling, what's wrong? I'm not angry with you if you're worried about that." Part of you was but it was a much smaller part than the voice in your head that kept calling you a coward and a liar.
"I didn't want to disobey your orders the other day." You said, strangely flat in tone. Your eyes still leaked those darned salty tears but you'd already begun and you couldn't stop now. "I didn't want to be on the battlefield at all to be completely honest with you." You'd never told him how much you didn't actually like the field of battle.
"Then why? What could have possessed you to do what you did."
"It was an accident, I was chased onto the field… by a squig."
Sanguinius could picture this new version of events clearly. And to his own self he felt ashamed, not just for getting cross with you but for the almost sickening sense of relief that flooded every inch of him. It was a new reason to keep you here, on his flagship and away from the battlefield.
His wings closed in tightly on you and he continued to listen.
"It was one of those that was covered in bombs. And I ran, I had a lasgun, I could have shot it. But I ran, like a coward."
Sanguinius held you tighter and shook his head. "You're not, you had to get to a safer distance before you could do anything."
It was your turn to shake your head then. "I didn't even think about that. I was just scared and I ran."
Sanguinius was quiet. "Why did you ask to come along with us to the surface?" He was changing the subject, trying to give you a break from the previous line of thought.
"I didn't. I made a joke about wishing I could spend the day with you despite the battle and it was put in as an official request to join you."
Sanguinius's wings puffed in frustration and a measure of anger. That such a sentiment should have resulted in your endangerment.
"I'm sorry, my love. That shouldn't have happened." He kissed the top of your head but you didn't respond. A claw of worry tore at him and he gave you a gentle squeeze. All that came from you was a quiet shuddering sob.
"Why are you crying?" He asked at last, trying to keep his voice calm so as not to add to the stress of the situation. Sanguinius was loathed to admit that seeing you like this left him feeling helpless. And he despised seeing you cry.
"Because now you know." You choked out, voice heavier with grief.
“Darling, I don’t think you are a coward. I think that you were in a stressful situation and reacted. You are not used to being on the field of battle. Besides, your actions today did help us. Even if I was terrified for your safety.”
“You were terrified?” You asked, astonished, eyes wide and still wet with tears.
“Of course I was, I heard over the vox that a rhino had landed on you. How could I not be terrified?” He drew in a breath. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Sanguinius tilted your chin up just a bit. “I love you.” He whispered the words so softly you almost questioned whether or not you had actually heard him right.
“I love you too.”
His lips brushed softly against yours, the kiss was sweet and he filled it with all the concern and love he’d felt over the past several days.
“I think I’d like to just stay on the ship from now on. And I’ll just have your time and affection when things are settled.”
The primarch breathed quietly in relief. “Good. Because I’m not willing to risk your safety after all of that.”You both chuckled and he lifted you up.
“Now let's get cleaned up. And I’ll give you some of that much desired affection.”
#warhammer 40k#warhammer#primarch x reader#primarchs#my writing#sanguinius x reader#sanguinius#warhammer 40k x reader
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Stellar Parallax
Chapter 12: Dig
The bar was already in hell.
Rating: Mature
Chapter WC: 11,617
Warning(s): violence, gore
Preview below the cut.
{READ HERE ON AO3}
John never invited her anywhere nice, Jane thought, watching the lava rivers gurgle and burp across the landscape as they landed. Well… that wasn’t entirely fair, was it? Maybe he’d invited her somewhere pleasant once or twice in the many emails she’d sent straight to digital hell. The last place she’d actually accepted had been to an iceball masquerading as a ski resort where she’d almost frozen her toes off and all their friends had died. All the furniture she and Palaven’s newest Primarch desecrated and-or broke in his private suite afterwards couldn’t quite salvage that one.
Just once, it would be nice if he invited her somewhere with white sand and clear water and banger margaritas and no potential loss of life or limb.
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The Big Marine Batch
Here's the big addition of Abyssal Seals from my remaining Christmas purchases and kitbashes.
The First Captain.
Captain Avataq(a bladder made of sealskin used in hunts) of the 1st company of the Abyssal Seals. Best friend of Chapter Master Gideon since before they were even neophytes. More cool and measured than his best friend but softens up around people he likes considerably. Leader of the Amaqqut(wolves), warriors clad in relic Cataphractii Terminator armor deemed worthy by him. Has a pet cyberhawk named Miteq(eider which is a seabird).
Another Apothecary
Wanted to add another apothecary and wanted to try painting white armor. I've named him Inuk(means human).
4 New Lieutenants
Needed some lieutenants since i only had one prior and like 7 captains. From left to right we have:
Minguk(flea): He is jumpy and always busy. Gets teased by his men a lot but he enjoys it. Good friends with the chapters librarius, they let him study in the cooler parts of archives when his company is on leave.
Niviaq(girl): Even though she is capable she hates fighting in close quarters, bit of a bolter nut. Gay but doesn't know it. Quite the hardass but well liked.
Amaroq(wolf): Strong, kind, charismatic and very much a leader of men. Looks like his primarch. Much like all Abyssal Seals he loves food, but he likes his food spicier than most.
Qivioq(down, like the fluffy stuff): Thinks he's funnier than he is, funnier than he's given credit for. As skilled at poetry as he is brutally effective on the battlefield. Gay and knows it.
Fire Support Squads
I wanted some infernus squads and I don't like the aesthetics of primaris marines, so i used mk3 marines and volkite chargers from the special weapons upgrade sprues, because the guns look cool and the abyssal seals like their crusade era relics.
So I Like Impulsors
I just like them, they're neat one of the few primaris models I like. Kitbashed the peaky girl on the left picture from a deimos rhino and the legs from another tank kit so she could poke out good. Her name is Naasuk(flower)
Naasuk and Niviaq are good friends.
After making Niviaq I decided that around 25-30% of the abyssal seals are women, i dunno her "soul" is very "womanlike" to me. So that is how i justify that in my mind. Had been sloshing the idea of them having femmarines around in my brain since i created the chapter.
Decided that because of how they recruit neophytes with a big ceremony, in which they hear "The Call of the Abyss" a.k.a. "The Voice of the Saint" and bond with a seal (which is a holy animal of the emperor native to their homeworld (they're originally from Terra but no one knows that)).
Those chosen have high affinity with the geneseed and the failure rate is low. Ever since the first one almost 2 millenia ago young women have started hearing "her voice" as well.
I should just write a fucking codex at this point.
#wh40k#space marines#adeptus astartes#warhammercommunity#abyssal seals#wh40kpaint#painting warhammer#warhammer 40k#miniature painting#my fucking space marine brain worms
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The Raven's Eye
Yandere Corvus Corax x Remeberancer Reader
Chapters 1
You were a proud remembrancer, you took so much pride within your craft. Although you were chosen from the best, you always had a small bit of bad habit. You sat and recalled a memory from your last boss that you had.
"What is wrong with YOU? You painted that?!" The primarch stood tall over you, anger radiated... from him like the rays from your home planet's sun. His body language was angry, like a cat pacing and ready to pounce. At that moment, you had painted Lion El Johnson in a normal painting showing the fight with Leman Russ. Remembrancers were supposed to keep their opinions about their primarchs to themselves. After all, Konrad's remembrancer's position is always still open.
The painting was an abstract piece, you had tried something different on the behest of another remembrancer. You turned to the Lord of the First and nodded with a grin. 'Why of course my lord I just painted what was on my mind" It was the closest you have come to death as a fast moved out faster than you can see and grabbed you by the neck. Struggling and gasping for breath.. "You dare put that in my presence... you can always just work for another" He applied a bit of pressure. Your mind was struggling and the mentioning of working for the dreaded Haunter made your heart beat faster and faster.. You tried to give gasps for air and made gasping noises... Until you were dropped and coughed. He bent beside you and chuckled. "If you wanted to change primarchs then why didn't you just ask" He gave a crooked smile while turning away. "Pack your bags... I am sick of your parasitic presence on my ship. Thank your stars that you are at least useful."
You shuddered at the memory. After all, reassignment was the hardest bit, after all no one really knows where they would go to next. You had packed up your artists bits and the other remembrancers came by and said their "goodbyes". You had at least the sense to know that they were eyeing your open rank. Still you let up a silent prayer despite the illegality of it. You prayed that you weren't going to the Eighth. Now you were in a modest, yet discreet craft meant for transporting Adminstraum members. You sat in the bunk and continued to paint. You weren't going to give up the new thing. Adjusting the easel, a self portrait often passed the time. It was an abstract thing with heavy themes of darkness, after all. You had always been afraid of things that went bump in the night. Still you were always an optimistic person and maybe a new scenery. You put down your tool and decided to rest, if you were going to die well at least you would go out with dignity.
In your dream, you dreamed of your home and parents.. and our home.. You savored those memories.. You talked to others. Transitioning into a ballroom party that your father had to celebrate planets joining with the Imperium, something was odd. A tall pale man came by pushing through the crowed. He was rather tall for a human and dressed in a black and purple. He wore a golden carrion bird mask. As he moved, the gentle music changed falling silent.
He approached you and got down on one knee and kiss your hand. "Would you care for a dance, Your Highness". It was a polite formality, but something felt wrong.. your heart beat faster.. the man had no eyes to look when looking through his mask. "No thank you, sir." You gave an abashed grin and backed away slowly.
The Man's face and form started to change reflecting the bird mask. You started to run in as the bird-man thing starting to fly while crowing... making occasional dive bombs . You felt his claws miss your back. You dare not look at the man.. the hall seemed to stretch out for longer and longer... You knew that you couldn't keep this up... you saw the hope of your salvation... an alley.. You immediately dived and ducked as the bird man passed by you. You steeled your nerves trying to keep your heart rate down so that IT would not be alerted to your location.
You covered your mouth as you heard a large thump on the distance far away... you gave a whimper as your heart was pounding. You saw him pass by. He had raptors feet with thick strong legs. His wings were something... there was some feathers falling out.. He had long black hair. You saw the man pass hearing his footsteps pass away.. You let out a sign of relief and turned next to see a bird. It was all black with a large beat and feathers that made it have a little "beard". It hopped closer and closer to making clicking noises and bopping its head. You decided to pet the raven holding it close taking deep breaths.. The man was gone. Your thoughts were running elsewhere where you didn't notice the bird changing... It grew taller and when you noticed you were staring into the eyes on a man with a pale face with long dark hair. He was holding you carefully in a bridal style His eyes were completely soulless... He gave a grin and asked the question again. 'You care for a dance your highness?" You let out a scream and rolled over hitting the ground with a loud thud, You got up and tried to run away only to be blocked by a wall of cawing black with viscous beaks.. You turned and ran before bumping into the man. He bent down getting closer and closer as you yelled before.
You woke up.
You took a breath and looked around you... you even pinched your self. You were in reality... and alive. Your sighed and grabbed your sketchbook immediately... Often you drew your dreams, and this was no exception. A feeling of doom that you felt during the dream lifted as you sketch your stalker in the dreams. When you had finished... the man looked like the Haunter but different, a tad bit softer perhaps. Still that nagging feeling still was there, you were always going to be watching you knew this, but it was like someone was just there following you and all of your intimate moments.
Still as you were getting ready, your stomach lurched.. it was a sign that was universally recognized as entering real space. A private vox system had told you that the craft had been hours in reaching the destination. Your thoughts often ranged from "I am going to die to Might as well make the best out of bad situation" After all, if you were going to die then you were at least going to look your best. You went and got out your nicest gown and put on the best makeup.
Leaving the cabin, you went to the captain's quarters approaching the door. You gave a deep sigh and knocked on the door. The captain was a short porty woman. She gave a grin and turned her face towards you. "So Remeberancer Anon! You are awake, and finally come" She turned her back to you and sighed. "We are nearly there now..." You were sweating bullet and thoughts "When is she going to tell me where we are?" The captain as if sensing your ire or distress turned and said. "We are within the docking process for the moon Deliverance."
Deliverance.... not Nostromo
You could have almost kissed the captain. the day was looking up. You saw new life... you were not going to be suffering a long and gruesome execution. Yet in the coming years and later... you would come to realize.
"Maybe you should have gone to Nostromo."
After the meeting with the captain, and with the feeling of new life on your mind. Immediately you went back to your quarters and packed up your belongings. Even though the serfs would handle most of the movement of the gear, you did not really like people messing with your art supplies. You sighed...recalling the brief close up of the moon. The dark side was full of light despite the empty surface, mining most likely. However, other side of the moon, that was intriguing. There stood a tall black tower, there were also other buildings around it. You sat down on the bed and decided to give a quick sketch of the tower. After all, it was your first things you have seen on the moon. After some time, you felt the ship lurch forward suddenly. Getting up, you went back to accompany the captain. Looking out you noticed that you were underground with lumens that flickered occasionally. The captain approached you giving a gentle bow. "Sorry, Remembrancer but this is standard protocol, we have to get checked in." You gave a pacifying nod trying to not to let the terror show in your face. At least back with the other boss, you could at least make out what was some resemblance of "up" but here... one wrong move, could lead to your doom. You felt your heart pounding, so you decided to thumb through your sketches in order to pass the time while the captain rushed around trying to get the clearance codes and accesses. Despite having prior knowledge of your arrival, there was always some menial that HAD to be on some power trip.. continuing to thumb through the sketches calming down. That was until you reached called Haunter (?). The one drawn after that horrible nightmare... you looked at it with clearer detail. You felt your heart start to race again... no this cannot be right.. you took deep breaths. What was your subconscious trying to tell you about this man? Putting those thoughts on the back burner and noticing the captain cursing out someone on a vox com link. Soon you would get out of this underground hell...the captain came over to you and gave a grin showing slightly yellowed teeth. "Good news Remembrancer! We have been expedited and soon we will reach the RavenSpire Quickly!" You raised an eyebrow... "The RavenSpire?" The captain nodded calling over a servitor that spoke in a robotic voice.
The servitor showed a holo-vid of the primarch. You stifled a gasp and shook your head.. no.. it couldn't be. The captain waved its hand in front of the Servitor in order to shut it off. AS she did so the ship surged forward, and landed with a flourish. The captain gave a chuckle. "That's our cue rememberancer." You gave a jaded nod.. while looking at your sketchbook at the portrait of Haunter (?). Erasing the title you wrote with a shaky hand, yet in pretty calligraphy. 'Corvus Corax' Getting up and walking with the captain and approaching the shuttle door.. the door opened with quiet ease and inward marched two Space Marines... They dawned black armor and on their right showed their Legion insignia... it was a white bird that was painted on them. The marines matched in and said with a accented High Gothic "The delays had been for too long. Lord Corax demands to see them" the Marine pointed a power glove towards you. "Come with us." "Do not worry" The other said, "Your luggage will be transported to your quarters during your meeting with Lord Corax" You held your sketchbook close to your chest and gave a long lingering glance to the captain.
You followed the Marines.. you were curious about everything and taking in the surroundings. The Ravenspire...the Marines marched through a large feasting hall decorated with trophies and skulls. There were scattered groups of Marines taking breakfast. You made a mental note and decided to sketch that part of the Raven Spire. You were secretly relieved that you had decided to dress very well. After all, first impressions of primarchs are make or break. Mostly break. Though, you wondered... why Corax and not the others? Still, at least it wasn't the Phoenician. In the start of your career, you remember getting a scathing review about your art that bordered on unnecessary. You were fuming, but your training had made you keep it to yourself. You shook out the memory as the Marines marched you to a large elevator. they stepped in first and indicated you follow. You stepped in, as one of the marines pressed a button and spoke clearance words. The elevator started to move upwards with smoothness. Eventually, the elevator paused after a long awkward silence. The Marine gave a gesture. 'Welcome to the Eirye.' They stepped out and you followed. You blinked trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness... You clutched the sketchbook close to your chest saying an olden chant that you said in your home language... to steel your heart. You certainly didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of the primarch. Stepping forward, you nearly bumped into a giant man. So this was him. He was much larger than the marines that accompanied you. His face was framed with long sable hair that fell to his shoulders,his face looked chiseled from marble set with obsidian eyes for frames. Yet on closer inspection, there was no whites in his eyes. His face was sharp and wired with a small line, indicating a frown. He was dressed in a modest black tunic with embroidered white edges. Tall and wiry which was an oddity unlike, like most primarchs, you knew that he had power behind every movement. Around his neck, was a simple cord with a skull? It was birdlike, and yellowed with age. You took a small step back, as the giant man bent down at the waist. "So you are Rememberancer Y/N correct?" His face didn't change. You nodded and gave a shaky grin. "Yes My lord." He gave a approving nod and turned and walked into his studio. Taking this a cue, you followed him into a study. It was huge, your eyes could barely take in everything. It was a curricular room in thick stone. Around the edges of the room were many book shelves that were stuffed with parchment. Interspersed between each book shelf was a large door, you were curious about where each door went.
Corax walked to a desk where stacks of paper work were placed haphazardly. He sat down and indicted a spot in front of him. "Pardon the mess." He was already behind schedule, and unfortunately this meeting would have to be short. He saw the Remembrancer and bent down at the waist to inspect them better. To be honest, he was relieved that he was able to acquire this precious Remembrancer. He shook his head at that. No, they were just the standard. He internally had went through their artwork, and found something that was refreshing truly compared to the others. Honesty. He saw their recent work, that had gotten them removed from the Lion's presence. Corax, personally, had always respected the Lion. He always had been loyal to their father, but still he was rather touchy on his ego. A lot of his brothers were including himself... he admitted with a sigh. He turned back to the Remembrancer. They were sweating buckets, he honestly wanted to try to calm them down and assure them that they would be alright, and that they were in no danger. However, a different part of his brain whispered. "They're here for mocking a primarch, plus you can use this to your advantage to keep her in line..." He dismissed that thought with a careless flick of his hand. He turned back to the Remembrancer "I am keen that you bought your sketchbook with you. Do you mind handing it over?"
You heard the hidden undertone. You sheepishly handed over the sketchbook over with a nervous hand. You gave a grin trying to ease your racing mind, watching as Lord Corax flipped through the book methodically, yet he stopped on a page and his mostly neutral expression changed in a blink to a small frown. You started to feel a tad bit nervous...what if he didn't like any of it? You had gotten so far now, and he to denounce or even worse... send you to HIM. You gave a tiny shudder. Your training was going to waste here... you mentally chastised yourself. Why were you acting in this manner?! You were so out of it.. you didn't notice that the primarch had placed the sketchbook on the table. Corax gave you a gentle look. "Remembrancer Y/N?.. You are free to go. Commanders Andolus and Kuis will escort you to your quarters. " At those words, it seemed to break your spell. You grabbed your book and took a look around... maybe you would sketch this later. The primarch remained at the desk still working on paper, you knew that he was watching you more intently than you would have liked.. But it was no matter.. At least you live for another day.
Corax as soon as he heard the elevator leave his private chambers. He sighed taking a momentary pause. He called up the recent sketch of himself... it was oddly perfect. But why. But something really set him off... the original title of the piece. He was not and will never be like his brother. His frown deepened a little bit as he felt a tad bit of shame, as he watched the newest remembencer go. Why? Emotions and convoluted feeling always ended up in disaster, specifically with someone of his magnitude and rank. After all he had read so many stories of slave masters use their power to abuse others to get their way. He felt something boil up before taking a deep breath. Not here. Not now. There was endless work he needed to do so that his legion missions can be completed with efficiency.
In the meantime, you alongside with your Marine escorts had arrived in your room. It was very much lavish in comparison to the recent places you had been staying in but very utilitarian. In the room had a large bed, alongside with a dark covered nightstand. Across the room was a window that had long black drapes. Not like you would ever be closing those curtains anyway. You stepped into the room after bowing to the guard. Entering the room, you noticed to your right a second door, stepping foot was a washroom, with a shower. You were shocked. Very few people were allocated such a function and you felt rather honored in that regard. The room was black as per standard with a sink, toilet and shower. Still, as you heard them trudge away.. you took the sketchbook that you had and walked over to the bed.. Tomorrow was going to be your first day and well, you needed sleep at the very least. You prepared for bed, trying to adjust to planetary jet lag You climbed into the bed and before you knew it. You were asleep.
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I have a silly idea, it's kabedon primarch! I think I read too many romcom manga.
Yep, this is so silly and cute. To kabedon a primarch, you will need a chair or a ladder. And stop give me those idea...
You browsed the planetary net, sipping your morning recaf, when an article headline caught your eye - "5 Ways to Make Anyone Fall For You, According To Science."
Intrigued, you clicked through. Most tips involved chemistry tricks or dubious psychology. But one stood out - "kabedon", a technique from ancient Terran drama.
"Kabedon - pinning the object of your desires against the wall with one arm to imply dominance and intimacy. Studies show increased heart rates and endorphin releases prove its effectiveness!"
The article claimed a study found kabedoning increased heart rates and hormonal attraction indicators in subjects. You hummed thoughtfully. As a highly skilled agent, you didn't need such parlor tricks. But you were ever curious, could it really be that easy to disarm even primarch-level self control? Only one way to find out…
Seeking your target, you soon found your primarch, Roboute Guilliman poring over tactical charts in his chambers. Perfect. "Excuse me, Lord Guilliman," you began innocently. "Might I have a word?"
Guilliman nodded without looking up. "Of course, what-"
Before he could finish, you lunged, leaping onto a nearby chair and slamming both hands against the wall on either side of Guilliman's massive frame with a resounding crack. He jolted in shock, eyes wide as you leaned in intently.
The Primarch let out an undignified squawk, dataslate flying, as he found himself suddenly pinned before a beaming you. You murmured in your smoothest sultry tone. "So, tell me. Does your heart beat faster when you look at me?"
Guilliman gaped soundlessly, gaze flicking from your grin to the web of fractures radiating from your pinning hand across the reinforced ceramcrete.
"I, uh-" Guilliman glanced about frantically for an answer before realized two things: one, you were precariously balanced on a chair to reach the wall. Two, both hands were now clutching desperately at the fractured surface to maintain that unstable perch. His panic dissipated into stunned amusement.
His lips quirked into a reluctant smile. "I…well, you startled me is all. And that chair cannot support your weight forever."
As if on cue, the aged wooden legs creaked ominously. You hastily hopped down, coughing. "Ahem. Well, does proximity to me affect you at all?" You wheedled.
"Good effort, agent. But next time, try not to break my building in the process."
You huffed, dropping your hands with a pout. "It was a legitimate dating tactic! The article said kabedon causes attraction! But I may have underestimated human heigh versus primarch."
Guilliman chuckled, reaching to lightly ruffle your hair in a rare affectionate gesture. "I am sure it works on many. But for a Primarch like myself, mere wall pinning will not suffice!"
You scowled and swatted his hand away "Mark my words, lord Guilliman, one day I will make your heart race whether you wish it or no!"
Guilliman couldn't help a smile now at your put-out expression. Stepping close, he took your hands gently in his. "My heart races every time I see you."
Your scowl softened into a smile. But a thoughtful look crossed your features. "Hmm, what if I brought you your favorite meal dressed in just an apron?"
Guilliman choked and began coughing violently. You smiled, unrepentant, and made a note to test that theory soon…
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@wayward40k continued from here.
And before the immaculate man was a dirtied, scarred, disheveled Primarch attached to a wall. Complete opposites, it seemed. The helmed Primarch lifted his head for a moment as if in bewilderment, yet his tone was quick to become defensive with Serge. " Curiosity? " Aurelius's voice echoed from the depths of the other's mind-- it did not boom like his Father's, but still sounded gentle even with his sudden outburst. The red emergency lights and the faint glows of the stasis field that surrounded Aurelius's broken body contrasted with the tone Serge had that Aurelius chose to deem sickly sweet.
He tried to watch Serge's movements, figure out what it was that he was doing. Yet Aurelius knew deep down he wouldn't be able to do anything... at this rate, with how things were going and Nirisch attempting to meet with a wealthy Imperial family... well, he would need to pass the time somehow.
" So you are here out of curiosity. Why? What is it that leaves you curious, Shapeshifter? "
#ic / in character.#forever forgotten // 40k verse.#the forgotten son // primarch aurelius augustus.#wayward40k#ask to tag tw#//hes a lil bitchy boy im sorry serge..... he'll get nicer eventually I SWEAR
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Author's note: Huge thankies to @commodoreprocrastinator (if you don't want to be tagged just say) for trading Russ ideas with me to help me finish this. A bit of an 'experiment' just setting a scene with him. Enjoy a drabble with the space viking king. I can't wait till I'm done writing warm-up fluff and I can inflict intense psychic damage on people.
Summary: You worry about meeting any of the other Primarchs, which Russ finds amusing.
Relationships: Leman Russ/Fem!Reader
Warnings: None other than typical 40kness, References to traditional courting style stuff like gift giving I guess
The bed is massive; It's fit for a Primarch, and thus it swallows you accordingly. Almost everything around you does, the massive pelt that drapes over the bed as a blanket covers almost most your entire body, though not the entire bed.
On a planet like Fenris you would've needed it and then some to even attempt at staying warm, but here, you find yourself only laying it over the middle of your body.
"Out of all the things I've gifted you, this is the one you like most?"
Russ finds something perhaps akin to amusement in the fact that you behave so differently than the woman who call Fenris their home planet, as you lay on your side watching him enter the room.
"'Out of all of them, this was the most useful one."
You'd brought it all this way to Terra, rubbing your ankle against the back of your other calf underneath the pelt Russ had hunted and skinned himself. The beast must've been massive, if this was only it's midsection.
Your snide comment makes Russ laugh, a loud rumble in his bare chest as he dresses in more casual garb befitting of Terra and the Holy Palace.
"You best keep that attitude in check today. I don't think they'll be fond of your bite."
Russ' reminder serves little more than to strike a bolt of fear and nervousness in you that you'd hoped forgotten for the time being; Pursing your lips as you lean on your elbow.
Right; You're overdue to meet the fellow Primarchs that Russ calls brothers, now that he's taken you on as, what you supposed would be referred to as consort. Not hailing from Fenris, you aren't aware if they have any sort of specific title for what you are to Russ. And as far as you know, he is the only of the Primarchs to do this; Which makes you completely and utterly alone. Being on Terra in the palace also means speaking with one of them is an inevitability, more so than a possibility.
And to think- many of them don't harbor the same, what you wouldn't call easygoing, but wild nature Russ possesses. You remember the fear that had struck you like a bullet upon realizing his eyes were on you for the first time. Before the gifts, the courting, when you were only a speck on a map in comparison. You doubt whichever Primarch you'd be unfortunate enough to face would have the same neutral nature about baseline humans that Russ somewhat has. To think, many humans in the Imperium would never live to even see an astartes, let alone a primarch; And here you are.
A soft bark however thankfully gives you a jolt from your thoughts, looking over to see a massive hound standing at side of the bed. The Fenrisian wolf is still technically a puppy, but he's growing at a rate that's going to have him competing with you in height, if it keeps up. You rub the top of his snout and the complaints turn into a soft rumble in his throat.
Russ, having been raised beside packs of the massive beasts since childhood, had no issue with you keeping the wolf pup that had been your latest gift right beside the both of you.
Some others in the palace were, noticeably less so. Glorious golden halls were quite quickly filled with roaring deep voices and barks; A sign that the Space Wolves had arrived. You're used to the ruckus, the drunkenness and the smell of wet fur, but many are not.
"You don't suppose I could forgo crossing paths with any of them?" Russ crosses his arms and lets out a loud laugh, as the wolf puts one of his paws onto the bed.
"And you don't think I'd take that opportunity myself, if given the chance?" You roll your eyes, despite knowing that he's more than right. The pelt that drapes over his one shoulder shows off most of his arms, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms and jerks his head in the direction of the wolf staring at you both.
"Bring the wolf; It'll keep half of them away. They hate the stench." You were planning on doing so anyways, but it's good to know it might keep unwanted eyes off of you. At least a few.
Fully awake you decide to leave the bed, only to find yourself unable to simply throw your legs off to the side and stand. You throw the gifted pelt off of you and to the side, looking over to your primarch.
"Help me out of this massive bed; I'm swimming in it."
Russ smiles just enough to show teeth as he leans forward to grasp your right thigh. Your nightclothes bunch under his tight grip as he roughly pulls you closer to him and onto the edge of the bed. Just as he lets you you realize his face is close enough for you to quickly lean forward, giving him a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. You can still feel his rough beard against your skin and the wild strands of unbraided hair flowing over his shoulders.
"Little thief," He growls.
He watches you with raised brow as you ignore his teasing accusation and slide the rest of the way off the bed, until your bare feet finally touch the floor. Shortly thereafter he elects instead of give you a kiss proper; Large hand cupping your jaw as his lips fully meet yours. His left knee has to nearly meet the ground for him to do so, with the sheer difference in your heights.
"Now get ready; Before I lose my patience for this and throw you to the wolves while I get some ale."
#Leman Russ x reader#warhammer 40k x reader#primarch x reader#wh40kcrack#reader insert#reader#mywriting
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Malcador's Knights of the Sigil
(AKA Sigil Knights)
In the middle years of the Great Crusade, when the Emperor had not yet retired to Terra but the distance between the capitol world of the Imperium and the great Legions of the space marines was growing ever wider, a proposal came to the War Council.
Drafted by Malcador the Sigilite, Regent of Terra, the proposal called for the creation of a unified force of space marines. They would be experts chosen from among the ranks of the various Legions, to be grouped together as a rapid response strike force. Thus they would serve the Imperium in those times when the assembly of the Imperial Army or the ponderous might of the Legions was inappropriate for the task at hand. In so doing they would serve as exemplars of the Astartes for the Imperium and foster goodwill between the Legions as those chosen for duty would carry the comradeship of such mixed units with them when they returned to their own Legion.
Only five primarchs voted to support the proposal.
The inauspicious beginning would come to characterize the Knights of the Sigil. Although more and more Legions would eventually send representatives, it soon became clear that many of the primarchs were unwilling to release their best and brightest from their service, and instead Legion headquarters sent such marines as were considered unfit for duty in their parent companies.
Perhaps it was not helped that the color of their armor was chosen to be a burnished bronze - though symbolic of an alloy made strong by mixing metals, it also hearkened back to ancient Terran traditions of a third-rate presence: ranking behind the gold of the Custodians and the silver of the Knights-Errant. Despite such pressures - or perhaps because of them - the Sigil Knights would become a knight-knit group, ferociously loyal to one another and to Malcador himself, who they came to view as benefactor, the provider of one last refuge from disgrace.
Amidst the myriad tragedies of the Horus Heresy came the sundering of Malcador's Knights of the Sigil. When those marines hailing from traitor Legions came under suspicion, many chose to renounce their heritage and be counted among the early Blackshields, the rest either joining them or donning the silver of the Knights-Errant and becoming individual operatives.
Though they received no great love in their lifetime or lamentation at their end, it is arguable that following the wars of M32 the foundation of the Deathwatch would use the groundwork laid by the Sigil Knights to create a galaxy-wide force operating in cohesive teams formed from the many chapters of the Adeptus Astartes.
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[fic] Macraggian Hospitality
Title: Macraggian Hospitality
Series: Warhammer 30,000/40,000
Pairing: Sanguinius/Roboute Guilliman
Characters: Sanguinius, Roboute Guilliman
Word Count: 6,321
Rating: Explicit
Story Summary:
“You still don’t need to do this.”
Roboute sat down on the couch next to Sanguinius. “I would debate that I do. Theoretical: The three of us have all been through grueling ordeals in the last several months, one right after another. We are exhausted. We are injured. We are grieving our sons lost, the relationships we thought we had with our brothers turned traitor, and the galaxy that we no longer have. But we are primarchs, and we need to be a symbol for our sons, and the common people. We do not have the same avenues available to use for stress relief. We cannot show weakness.
“Practical: Macraggian baths are legendary, and do much to ease the body and the spirit. You can be vulnerable around me, Sanguinius. You don’t have to be perfect. I know how to perform Macraggian hospitality. You can get some much-needed relaxation.”
.
Takes place shortly after Unremembered Empire.
.
Link to Ao3
#sanguinius#roboute guilliman#warhammer#warhammer 40k#iapetus writes#(i realize i forgot to post this here after the creator reveals happened)
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With that one post going around about Ferus eating sand and also maybe people, I have a few thoughts. Bear with me, It’s going to be long.
1. The general rule of thumb for how many calories a person needs is roughly 1,000 calories per 100 lbs of body mass. This isn’t taking into account things like puberty or growth spurts, or the fact that being active/having more muscle mass tends to mean you need more food because you expend more energy, or the fact the metabolic rates vary among most people. As an example, I weigh somewhere around 180lbs. I’m fairly tall, lift weights and hike with some frequency, and have a fairly normal metabolic rate. I need somewhere around 2,800-3,100 calories just to maintain my current bodyweight, mostly because I’m pretty active. My sister, who is much shorter and smaller than me, not as active, and who as far I know has a fairly average metabolic rate, probably needs something like 1,800-2,000 ish calories a day. Now, I could eat much less than the amount I do and really cut it down to about 1,800 a day for a bare minimum and my sister could go even lower. But, it would suck ass. I would have no energy for doing things, wouldn’t be able to think straight, and it would probably fuck with my emotions pretty badly. 1,800 would be the bare minimum to simply not starve for me.
Now, I’ve done some math, and based on things like square cube law and the fact that average height for a Primarch is 10′, their average weight would probably be somewhere between 900-1100 lbs, depending on their exact build. That means, at a minimum, would suck to be alive, not starving to death amount, a Primarch would need 9,000 calories worth of food a day. To put that into perspective, there are something like 290-365 calories worth of food in a normal grilled cheese sandwich. That’s something like, 20-30 of those to satisfy the bare minimum caloric needs of a Primarch for a single day, assuming you have nothing else on hand for some reason. This does not take into account the fact that they’re probably pretty active, generally just jacked, and seem to a have much higher metabolic rate than normal humans. They probably need something more like 15,000+ calories a day, even more if they’re like Magnus the Red and just happen to be fucking hugelarge.
A pound of beef is roughly 217-254 calories worth of food, with substantially more protein than a grilled cheese.There are usually between 400-600 pounds of meat on a cow, not counting the organs and bones. That’s about 86,000-130,000 calories of food, or enough to keep a Primarch fed for a bit more than a week, perhaps even more if they decide to eat the organs and bones. This amount of food is also more than enough to keep a large family fed for like, a year, or at least most of one.
What I’m saying is Primarchs need a frankly absurd/horrifying amount of food to the point where I no longer wonder why Ferus decided to eat literal sand and probably people. Dude was definitely starving. Most of them probably were. You would need to be literal royalty or at least obscenely rich in order to source enough food to feed an actively growing Primarch. Grocery bills must be insane.
2. Primarch puberty must be a horrible affair for everyone involved. When I went through puberty the first time around, I just sort of went through a really big growth spurt where it just sort of happened all at once. I grew, like a foot and half in a year. I discovered forms of hormone-fueled emotion that were previously known only to deep-sea shrimp. I was tired and hungry all the time. My literal, actual, holding-up-my-body bones hurt because they were growing so fast. I wanted to sleep almost all of the time. The rest of the time I either wanted to eat or fight things because of a combination of hormones and hunger. I did some stupid shit, as all teenagers do. I Imagine Primarch puberty is like a very, very extreme version of that. They would outgrow clothes and probably furniture by the week, if not the day. Eat an entire week’s worth of food in a single meal. Sleep for like, a week and nearly starve to death because of previously mentioned absurd caloric needs. Probably try to fight their entire neighborhood and actually win, because what in the galaxy could actually physically stop them? I can’t even imagine the stupid, hormone fueled nonsense a teenage Primarch would get up to, because again, what could stop them? You could probably use their sweat as steroids, given the probably absurd of amount of testosterone and human growth hormone flowing through their veins. It’s not unreasonable to assume that some Primarchs who came from more humble backgrounds, like Vulkan, literally outgrew their homes. Imagine you’re at a stage of physical and mental development where most people cope with stress by listening to edgy music and that happens to you. What do you even do then? You can’t go be sad in your room because you’re literally too big for it. You can’t fit inside your own house and public infrastructure is probably too small for you. How horribly alienating that must be. Not to mention the mere expense of your existence would be enough to bankrupt a small nation. It must be upsetting just being alive at that point. They probably all need so much therapy.
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Hi if you're still taking primarch request could you do something with the lion he gets so few fics
The Lioness and The Lion
Short but sweet, this was the first thing to come to mind. I hope it's okay.
Rated E for 'eeew they're in love'
Just fluff and kisses, mentions of emotions and stuff. The L word too.
The rock had been so quiet without your love. You'd waited patiently every day for his awakening. And the Watchers had taken you down, everyday, to see him. He looked so peaceful in his sleep. But you missed him terribly.
The years passed by, and you watched him change. It was nearly imperceptible. Even as your own perpetually youthful body stayed the same, you aged in mind and spirit. Growing sharper and honing those razor-sharp skills that the Lion had bestowed upon you. Now, even human, you were as deadly as the best of them.
Still, you waited. Suddenly, the watchers did not allow you entry anymore. For days you tried and were rebuffed, sent off to sulk and train.
'The Lion has returned' you were the last to hear it, and it infuriated and frustrated you.
You were his spouse for crying out loud.
You tried to find out his location, but it seemed like every time it was somewhere else. So you stayed on the rock. Sat on your hands and your anger and just trained. Day in and day out, till your body was sweat slicked and you were exhausted. What little time spent away from training was only essentials. Food, shower, sleep, awaken, and train the rest of the time.
It felt pointless. Even before you could at least go down there and see him. Rest your head on his chest and tell him you loved him in person.
Your sword slacked its thirst with the blood of a very unfortunate combat servitor. It didn't matter.
Tears dripped from your cheek as the edge of your blade touched the floor. It was something Lion would have chastised you for in the past. Now, even his chastisement would have been preferable.
"You know you aren't supposed to let it touch the floor. You'll dull its edge."
Your eyes went wide, and you turned with all the speed and excitement of a child. Almost clumsy as you dropped the blade, seeing the form of your most beloved in the doors of the training hall.
You don't even remember clearing the space between the two of you as you collided with his armored chest where he caught you.
"Lion! Oh, Lion, it is you!" The tears cam faster and harder now. Your body wrecked with sobs as he held and comforted you.
"Yes, my little Lioness. It is." He too felt close to tears. He'd wondered from the moment he was fully lucid again if you'd still be here if you'd have held out for him. The prideful side of him had hoped you would, that the vows you both made really would bind you both forever. Another small part of him felt sorrow that you'd endured all those years alone without him. And yet another, the part that loved you with all his heart, body, and soul was overflowing with happiness at seeing you again.
"Please forgive my tardiness, my Lioness. I did not intend for that to yake so long."
"All is forgiven, my love. All of it. Just please don't leave me like that again."
You kissed him, really kissed him for the first time in ten millenia, and it felt like heaven.
"There is much still to be done. I will need you by my side for it."
"Of course." You smiled despite the tears you attempted to scrub away. "You say that as if I'll ever leave your side again."
He laughed as his own tears began to flow, and he just held you.
"I would expect nothing else from my Lioness."
You both held each other till the tears stopped. And he swept you up from the floor, holding you tight to his chest.
"I love you, Lion."
"I love you too, my Lioness."
#warhammer 40k#warhammer#40k#fanfiction#primarchs#primarch x reader#my writing#primarch#lion el'jonson#lion el'jonson x reader#wh40crack.
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