Just two dirty and stinky goths who need therapy looking at eachother.
Sometimes I wanna just— You know? SHOVE THEM MAGIC WARP INFUSED HORSE GRADE MOOD STABILIZER FUTURE VISION DESTROYER DEEP INTO SOMEONE'S THROAT AND THEM THROW THEM INTO A FUCKING CAR WASH but maybe that's just me.
Also, imma go hide from Denka now, toodles. AND yeah You were right Dark Brown eyes >>>>
These are 3000x2250 100% digital sketches and drawings!
Has everyone already rejoiced at the appearance of the demon Perturabo, after such a long amount of time? I made headcanons for him!
Demon Perturabo as a partner ~
1. "Thank you?"
Perturabo, even as a daemon, never got rid of his main trigger. If you accidentally praise him, he'll freeze, and then his hands will barely tremble with joy. But if you forget to thank him for something, expect a three-hour lecture about how in his native Olympia, hard work was valued, and how ingratitude is the root of all the galaxy's problems.
2. "Don't touch me"
His armor has grown into his flesh; he looks more like a missile launcher than a primarch. If you try to take his hand (which is the size of you), he'll simply move away. You'll have to discuss what parts of him are safe to touch and what aren't, so you don't get fried.
3. "Shy"
Imagine a situation where you're sitting in a fast-food cafe, and they bring him the wrong order. He won't say a word against it; he'll just silently accept it. Only you can notice it and say something like, "That's not what my boyfriend ordered." He'd be very embarrassed, but deeply grateful that you're so attentive.
4. "Jealousy"
This will be an eternal theme. You're watching a movie where, for example, an architect builds a bridge — Perturabo darkens. You walk past a construction site — he starts grumbling that they're stupid and building it wrong. And it always comes down to phrases like: "Dorn would approve. Of course, he would. Because Dorn loves it when everything is crooked. If only he were here, I'd like to see him..." You'll just have to accept it.
5. "Personal"
Perturabo hates organic life. He considers flesh a weakness. But if he has chosen you, you automatically become the only approved bug in the system. He will genuinely wonder why you need to sleep, eat, wash, —ahem— breathe (why, when you could just connect to a life support system?), but he will tolerate your weaknesses with an air of detachment. However, if anyone dares to point out your human inefficiency, that someone will cease to exist on the material plane.
BONUS! 🌸
6. "Apologies"
He doesn't know how to apologize at all. No one ever apologized to him, so why would he need to do it? But when he sees that you're genuinely upset and hurt by him, it makes him nervous and makes him think about what to do. Usually, he'll lock himself in his workshop for a couple of days and tinker with something, thinking the hurt will pass. But if that doesn't work, he'll definitely bring you something you mentioned a very long time ago. Maybe a book, or perhaps your favorite tea. And when you ask, "Are you trying to apologize?" (yes, you have to be direct with him), he'll answer, "Yes. I was wrong. I regret it."
Yes, maybe Perturabo, especially his daemonic version, is a pretty tough nut to crack, and he would be emotionally, and physically, unavailable. But despite that, he loves you very deeply. If you support him and give him attention, Perturabo will give you everything you need and more. You want a rare flower? He'll conquer an entire garden planet to find it. Or maybe you like gold? Say no more! You'll have a throne made of the purest gold. And there are hundreds of such examples. So, he's not that bad, really. He just needs time.
« He went back to the door upstairs, and began to descend the stairs, and so he descended, as if he was not in a hurry; the steps under him even groan... Well, he came to our door, waited, waited - the door suddenly opened all of a sudden.»
I. S. Turgenev, "Bezhin Meadow" (Бежин луг)
My fingers dried up while I was drawing this illustration for the competition. Thanks to the teacher for helping me. Put a reaction and your mother will live forever. Thank you for your attention.
⚠️ Disclaimer: Everything written below is purely my speculation based on the animated series episodes. ⚠️
⚕️ MEDICAE CODEX: The Globular Reservoir and Legion Survival Rules ⚕️
Core Principle: The Legion above the individual, and functionality above humanity.
Principle of Hereditary Material Inviolability
1. The testicles of a fallen warrior are sacred. They are the vessel of his essence.
2. The medic's duty is to return them to the Vault at any cost, or immediately implant them into a suitable young vessel-candidate.
3. Loss or damage of Hereditary Material = eternal loss of the warrior's soul. Punishment is the ultimate measure.
Principle of Functionality Over Comfort
4. Psycho-warriors do not feel pain like humans. A complaint = either simulation or critical damage.
5. Upon loss of a limb — implantation of an iron prosthetic.
6. Anesthetics are not provided. The medic amputates the interfering part or lets the warrior die if the repair would take longer than the mission.
Principle of Legion Priority
7. The medic is obligated to preserve the life of any Legion member, regardless of personal feelings.
7.1. Even if the warrior just tried to kill you — save him if there's a chance.
8. Evacuation of the deceased's eggs takes priority over evacuating the wounded. The wounded can wait; the eggs are cooling down.
Principle of Vessel Purity
9. Candidate boys are containers. Tools.
10. Empathy for the vessel is forbidden. The task is to check survivability. Candidate's death = rejection.
11. The boy's personality is unimportant. After implantation, only the warrior's personality remains.
Principle of Non-Interference in Hierarchy
12. The medic is outside the chain of command during battle but does not dispute orders.
13. If the Captain orders an artifact to be given away — the medic obeys.
13.1. Hereditary Material must NOT be given away (exception to Rule 13).
Doctrine of "Return"
14. Death does not exist. There is only a state of "deactivated" or "awaiting reboot."
15. As long as the eggs are intact and there is a boy, the legionnaire is immortal.
16. The medic's task is to ensure this rebirth cycle.
17. The medic has the right to kill and crush the eggs of heretics.
🔹 GLOBULAR RESERVOIR (GLOBULI-SANCTUM)
Regarding the Sacred Vessel:
Principle of Inseparability
18. The Reservoir is an extension of the medic's body and the Legion's soul. It must be worn on the chest at all times, except during material evacuation. Loss = loss of a part of the Legion's soul (punishable by demotion).
Principle of Purity
19. The inside must be kept in perfect sterility. Contamination (blood, acid, non-testicles) defiles the material. The medic is obligated to cleanse the vessel personally, even with their tongue.
Principle of Capacity
20. Volume — up to 10 pairs of testicles. If overfilled, evacuate the most valuable first.
20.1. In case of loss/damage/overfilling of the vessel, use the mouth as a temporary reservoir.
20.2. Maximum of 2 pairs per cheek.
20.3. Swallowing is FORBIDDEN.
20.4. Talking with a full mouth is not recommended. If necessary, speak clearly, do not damage the material with teeth.
20.5. In battle, do not open the visor or cover your mouth with your hand. Avoid combat during transfer.
21. Upon suction, it sounds: "Praise the Space King." Legionnaires must hear that the ritual is complete.
21.1. In field conditions, the sound is automatically disabled.
The medic must know the Codex by heart and pass a professional fitness test every year. Praise the Space King!
«If someone gave men flowers — they could do anything in the world.»
Valentine's Day 💕
Konrad hated Valentine’s Day.
Not because he was against love. But because this day reminded him of how awkwardly he expressed his feelings. Every year, he agonized over finding the perfect flowers, every year he worried whether they were beautiful enough, every year he gave them to Luma with an expression as if he were making a sacrificial offering.
And every year she accepted them with that same gentle smile, and he forgot all his fears.
But this time, everything was different.
The morning of the fourteenth began as usual.
Konrad woke up, reached toward the edge of the bed where Luma usually lay, and found emptiness.
"Luma?" he called.
Silence. He sat up. Looked around. She wasn’t in the cabin. Her uniform hung on the chair. Her data-slate lay on the table.
"Strange..." he muttered.
He pulled on his pants, stretched like a cat, and stepped into the corridor, then made his way to the mess hall where Tennar usually had breakfast.
Tennar sat at the table. In front of him was a plate of toast, tea, and an empty vase.
"Good morning, Dad."
"Yeah, hi." He stepped closer.
"There's a note," Tennar added.
Konrad picked up the small envelope attached to the vase and opened it with his black claw.
"To the one who taught me that flowers can speak. Thank you for twenty years of your roses. Now it's my turn.
Yours, Luma.
P.S. I'm in the botanical garden. Waiting for you."
"She..." Konrad swallowed. "She went to the botanical garden?"
"She's been there since five in the morning," said Tennar. "Preparing a surprise."
"Since five in the morning?!" Konrad looked at the clock. It was now eight. "Three hours?"
"Three hours," Tennar confirmed. "She worked really hard."
"Do I look okay?"
"As always. Stunning."
"Suck-up." Konrad smirked, then approached his son and ruffled his hair before heading to the garden.
The botanical garden of the Night Haunter was the only place on the ship that didn’t smell of death.
Luma had created it many years ago, when Tennar was little, so he would have a place where he could see something other than metal and weapons. Here grew flowers from dozens of worlds—gifts from planets the Legion had "liberated," organic trophies from battlefields, seeds Konrad had brought back from his travels.
Here, too, grew the black roses of Nostramo.
Konrad entered the garden and froze.
She stood in the center, surrounded by flowers. She wore her favorite perfectly pressed white suit. In her hands—a bouquet. Soft violet, almost translucent, with silvery veins. They looked like space.
"I looked for them for three years," said Luma. "The seeds. No one wanted to sell. I had to... persuade them."
"Luma..."
"They're called 'Phialcus Maximus,'" she continued. "But I'd prefer 'Eyes of the Night Haunter.'"
He looked at her, at the flowers, at her smile. His pale cheeks flushed red.
"You..." His voice faltered. "You didn't have to, what are you doing, why would you give me flowers..."
"Yes, I did," she said. "You've given me flowers for twenty years. Every time something new. Every time—with a look like you're afraid I won't accept them."
"I am afraid," he admitted. "I'm always afraid."
"I know." She stepped closer. "So today, I want you to know you're not afraid alone."
Note: I hoped someone would ask for his nsfw alphabet but it didn't happen so I am satisfying my own wish. Also, the asks will be answered slowly but surely! <3 I have Night Lord brainworms and have to satisfy them.
Surprisingly vulnerable. Clings to you like you're the only thing tethering him to sanity. Checks obsessively that he didn't hurt you, that you're still here, still real. Wraps you both in darkness because the light feels too exposing. Whispers things in Nostraman you don't fully understand but sound like prayers.
B = Body part (their favorite on themselves and their partner)
On himself: Hates most of his body but his hands can be gentle with you when the visions quiet, so maybe those. On you: Your pulse point. Feeling your heartbeat reminds him you're alive, real and choosing to stay. Also your eyes when you look at him without fear.
C = Cum (anything to do with it)
Possessive about it. Marking you is instinctive, primal. Afterward he'll trace patterns on your skin like he's claiming you from the universe itself.
D = Dirty secret
The visions show him every possible way this could go and some of them are deeply depraved. He'd never act on the worst ones but they haunt him. Also fantasizes about you being the one in control because it means he can stop thinking, stop seeing, just feel.
E = Experience (how experienced are they)
Absolutely none. You're his first everything. Nostramo didn't exactly have a dating scene and he was too busy being a vigilante nightmare. Everything he knows he learned from you, through desperation and instinct.
F = Favorite position
Anything where he can see your face and you can see his. Needs that eye contact to ground himself, to remember this is real and you want this. Also likes you on top because watching you take what you want from him short-circuits his brain in the best way.
G = Goofy (are they serious or humorous)
Deeply serious, almost grimly so. Intimacy is intense and weighted with meaning. Occasionally makes dark jokes about his own monstrousness that are more sad than funny. You've learned to kiss him quiet when he starts spiraling.
H = Hair (how groomed are they)
It's a disaster. Everything about him is unkempt and slightly feral. You've stopped caring. He's tried to make an effort for you exactly once and gave up halfway through.
I = Intimacy (how romantic are they)
More romantic than anyone would expect from the Night Haunter. In his own twisted way this is worship. You're the only good thing in his life of visions and violence. He tells you this in the dark, voice raw and honest.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Rarely and it's always thinking of you. Feels guilty afterward like he's tainting you even in fantasy. The self-loathing is real but the need for you is stronger.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Praise destroys him, tell him he's good, he's yours, he's more than the monster. Definitely has a thing about you showing trust/vulnerability with him. Biting and marking (both ways). Probably into you being in control because his visions never show him futures where he gets to surrender safely.
L = Location (favorite places)
His chambers, in absolute darkness where the visions are quieter. Sometimes in the shadows of the ship where he feels safest. Never anywhere public. This is private, sacred, just yours and his.
M = Motivation (what turns them on)
Your acceptance of him. When you touch him willingly, without fear or pity. When you tell him you want him despite knowing exactly what he is. Also when you're fierce or brave, it reminds him why he fell for you.
N = No (something they won't do)
Won't hurt you beyond what you explicitly ask for. He's terrified of becoming the monster with you that he is with everyone else. Also won't share you, absolutely not. You're the one pure thing he has.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)
Giving, obsessively. It's one of the few times his mind goes quiet, focused entirely on your pleasure. Makes him feel like he's worshipping something worth worshipping. Receiving makes him feel vulnerable in ways he's not always ready for but when he trusts enough it undoes him completely.
P = Pace (fast and rough or slow and sensual)
Depends on the visions. Sometimes desperate and rough, trying to outrun the futures he sees. Sometimes achingly slow, savoring every moment because he's seen timelines where he loses you. Either way, it's intense.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies)
Not really his style. When he has you he needs TIME to convince himself you're real, to silence the visions, to prove he's capable of gentleness.
R = Risk (are they experimental)
Not particularly. Too afraid of hurting you or losing control. Sticks to what he knows keeps you safe and satisfied.
S = Stamina (how long can they go)
Primarch stamina is essentially endless but he's careful about your limits. Will go multiple rounds if you can handle it but always watching for signs you need rest.
T = Toys (do they own toys)
No and would be confused/suspicious of them. Everything is just you and him and desperate need.
U = Unfair (how much do they tease)
Doesn't really tease intentionally but his intensity can be edging on its own. When he discovers the power of making you wait he uses it sparingly, watching you fall apart with dark fascination.
V = Volume (how loud are they)
Surprisingly vocal once he's lost in it. Ragged breathing, your name like a prayer, Nostraman curses and endearments. The sounds he makes are raw and unfiltered, almost pained with how good it feels.
W = Wild card (random headcanon)
Sometimes he'll just hold you after, in the dark and tell you about the good futures he sees, the rare visions where you're both happy and safe. Those are his favorites. You're the only future he wants.
X = X-ray (what's going on down there)
Bigger than human baseline (approximately 51 cm / 20 inches), pale, slightly unsettling like the rest of him. You've adapted. Love is strange.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive)
Moderate. It's more about connection and feeling human than pure physical need. When he wants you it's because he needs to remember he's more than the Night Haunter, that he's Konrad with you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep after)
Doesn't really sleep, the visions never stop. But he enters something like rest while holding you and that's the closest to peace he ever gets. You usually fall asleep first, safe in his arms despite everything.
I'm freaking out, I've been wanting to draw for a long time...
The silence of the meditation chamber, which served as a clean room for the mother of the heir of the eighth Legion. Luma was sitting on a simple couch, covered with a sheet more for comfort than warmth. She was holding a small bundle wrapped in a soft cloth in her arms. The rhythmic buzzing of her internal systems was the only sound disturbing the peace.
The door opened soundlessly, and Conrad Curze appeared in the doorway. He was wearing light armor, a cape, and without a helmet, with a face that was frozen with a mixture of incredible caution and deep, animal fear. He entered, and the door closed behind him. As he got closer, his massive shadow covered them both. For several long seconds, he just stared, his violet eyes, the color of a night thunderstorm, studying the tiny face.
— He's ugly. — Conrad finally said. His voice was low, devoid of the usual steely hoarseness, almost confused. — Wrinkled. Red. And bruises... like a dead man from the lower mines.
Luma looked up at him. Her optical sensors softly focused on the primarch's face. A light, mechanical exhalation came from the woman's chest, simulating fatigue.
— Conrad. — She said in a flat, patient tone. — You literally describe yourself at the moment of landing on Nostramo, as far as I can assume. You're his father.
Konrad bent down slowly, with exaggerated, almost ridiculous caution for such a giant. His huge, battle-hardened hands slid under the bundle. He picked up the baby, gently pressed it against his chest plate of armor, incredibly contrasting the fragile newborn life with the blue ceramite. The little Tennar, disturbed by the movement and the cold of the armor, winced, grunted and opened his eyes. And Curze froze when his bottomless eyes were reflected in the small and clear mirrors of his child's soul. Father and son stared at each other in silent dialogue, and then, as if on cue, they both turned their heads and fixed their identical, purple eyes on Luma.
The same head angle. The same questioning, slightly offended seriousness in his gaze. Luma looked at them: at her monster, holding their small, fragile miracle, and at this very miracle, already unconsciously copying her father's manner. There was no algorithm for this in her processor. Just a wave of pure, unfiltered feelings of tenderness and love. She broke into a smile.
— Yes... She said softly, looking at the two pairs of purple eyes. — You're so pretty...
Conrad chuckled, grinning slightly. He pulled Tennar a little closer, so that the little black-haired head rested against his collarbone.
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