You love him, he loves you not. (very self-indulgent)
Lion El'Jonson
He will keep his distance, always measured, always guarded. He will not offer false hope, and that restraint will leave you with only your love and nothing more.
Fulgrim
He will receive your love like praise or devotion. He will admire it, maybe even cherish it, but admiration is not love, and you will be left reaching for something he will never give.
Perturabo
He will see your love as another burden, another pressure, another thing to endure. He may not reject you loudly, but he will make it plain that his heart is not open to you.
Jaghatai Khan
He will be impossible to hold, always moving just beyond your grasp. You will love him for the freedom in him, and he will never be still enough to love you in return.
Leman Russ
He will laugh as if your longing is a story he has heard before. He may care for you, but not in the way you need, and that mismatch will sting every time he looks away.
Rogal Dorn
He will be steadfast, but not yielding. He can protect you, provide for you, yet he still leave your heart untouched, because duty is not the same as love.
Konrad Curze
You can give him your heart, but all he gives you is distance. He sees what you can offer, he understands it, and still he cannot meet you there. So you ache, and he lets the ache remain.
Sanguinius
He will be kind to you, which may hurt more. He will hold you gently, but his gentleness will only make it clearer that his love is elsewhere, and that your longing can never become his.
Ferrus Manus
He will be direct and unmoved. You will know where you stand with him, and that certainty will be its own heartbreak, because what you want will never be there.
Angron
He burns too fiercely to meet you softly. His pain and rage are his own, and your love will be swallowed in that fire without ever being returned.
Roboute Guilliman
He will understand you completely and still not choose you. There is no cruelty only certainty, and that certainty will make the rejection feel final.
Mortarion
He will not return your love with softness. He will stand in grim silence, all weight and no warmth, and you will come to understand that his heart does not bend in the way yours does.
Magnus the Red
He knows the shape of your desire before you say it. And so he will not turn away cruelly, but neither will he step into the place your heart has reserved for him.
Horus Lupercal
He will smile as if he knows your heart better than you do, and he will still not love you back. His absence will feel almost intentional, as though he were always meant to leave you wanting.
Lorgar Aurelian
Heis willing to worship the feeling without truly sharing it. He will speak as though your devotion is sacred, yet the love you want from him will remain just out of reach, forever blessed and forever denied.
Corvus Corax
He will vanish before you can reach for him. You may love the shadow, yet the shadow will not love you back, no matter how faithfully you wait.
Alpharius Omegon
You will never know which one you are speaking to, and that is the cruelest part. You will love what you cannot fully grasp, and they will remain one step beyond your heart.
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Hey! I now have more here! (and here)
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And I also see that while your heart beat for a primarch that will never love you, one of their captains is looking at with the same expression as yours
Sometimes, sometimes he forgot that it was too much for a baseline.
Black crusade after black crusade, horror after horror, and while he did his best to shield you from the worst of the worst - keeping you close to his side when out of his chambers, there were always terrors that slipped through the cracks. And the Vengeful Spirit was filled to the brim with such horrors.
After dispatching of the issue, he had to face that you would require some… caring for. He hadn’t considered that he would ever care enough for a mere baseline to comfort one - yet here he was, heading back to his quarters with sugary treats in tow.
All the power of the Black Legion combined just to indulge your sweet tooth, and yet he would gut anyone who dared speak in such a manner of you.
When he arrives its to find you curled in the centre of the bed, surrounded in a sort of nest of blacks, reds and golds, of silks and furs, everything soft pulled together to make a tiny plush fortress against the cold of the ship.
“Little lamb…” he starts, stepping towards the edge and sitting down, uncaring for how it dipped under his weight, “...I have an offering for you.”
Wide, wet and red rimmed eyes peak out from the covers.
Then a nose, then lips, which part softly while she looks up at him expectantly from the cocoon.
“I am not going to-”
She flutters her eyelashes at him, he sighs.
He spends the next twenty minutes feeding her the soft sugary dough, in tiny ripped bites that she nibbles from him. Little lamb indeed.
Slowly but surely she emerges though, crawling further into his lap while deftly avoiding any spikes or point bits with the much accumulated practice. She brings a blanket with her, wrapping up and cushioning between cold armour and soft, warm skin.
Eventually though, the treats run out.
“...pet my hair while I nap?” she asks in a small voice, already drifting off with the exhaustion of the day and melting in his hold.
He wants to refuse, citing grandeur of his never ending work as Warmaster, but he finds his hands obey of their own accord - and he is not one to refuse his instinct or you.
When a young child, not yet 5 years old, contracts smallpox after surviving the horrors of war, injustice, and hundreds of deadly nights, amidst the sounds of planes and tanks, this is not a passing or simple illness
Imagine your child contracting this disease?! I'm writing this because my brother Ahmed was diagnosed with it on July 30, 2024, and his cries and suffering broke my heart. We searched every pharmacy and couldn't find any medication to ease his pain.
And so a new chapter of suffering has begun, a suffering I don't want to become a habit. Some of the same pimples have started to reappear on my brother Ahmed's back, and I ask you to stand with us and donate. Instead of money coming in to buy food, we're now spending it on medicine and displacement expenses. Your donation, however small, is a candle in the darkness, especially after donations to our fundraising campaign completely stopped. Donate to us via PayPal or GFM
Vetted! shared by @/90-ghost (also here), #77 on @/gazavetters vetted list, shared by @/gaza-evacuation-funds, shared by @/el-shab-hussein!
I have been in regular contact with Mohammed for almost 2 years now. Please help him and his family!The money will reach him quicker if you can donate through Paypal, which is managed by my friend who regularly sends the donations to Mohammed.
Hello, among the hundreds of tragic stories, I am sharing my painful sto… Mohammed Khalil needs your support for Help Ahmed Khalil's family
Help support sanae harika by donating or sharing with your friends.
Warnings: mentions of blood, abuse, someone who thoroughly deserves it gets wrecked
Description: The final confrontation between Matriarch and Matron. A last, vicious gasp. And a secret almost revealed. (Don't let the title fool you, this series isn't over.)
Find the previous parts of this series on my Masterlist, comment and ask to be added to/removed from my Taglist, and remember my Asks and DMs are always open!
You couldn’t breathe.
Standing before the women who’d haunted your nightmares from early adolescence, all your carefully formulated speeches dissolved into panicked nothingness. You felt small. A child waving a wooden sword at the feet of a Queen. A source of amusement or mild irritation, no more.
You closed your eyes.
I am no longer a child.
But who were you, then?
The question had plagued you since your grandmother snatched you from a childhood of peace and happiness.
A bastard?
A granddaughter?
A tool?
A princess?
An inconvenience?
A savior?
A traitor?
Faces flashed before your eyes.
Your mother. Proud and strong as she lifted you in arms corded with muscle.
“My sweet girl.”
The Abbess. Wizened face smiling gently as she rested a hand upon your hair.
“Our young bloom.”
Captain Takahashi. Dark eyes calm as she stood at your side.
“My Lady Heir.”
Frenzy. Grinning wide and wild as she defended you with her life.
“For the fucking Matron Uncrowned!”
Listener. Voice soft and cool as she calmed your fears.
“You are Hope.”
The last… a memory? Or did you actually hear her voice inside your head? Did it matter?
As you released the breath you’d been holding and opened your eyes once more, a final face eclipsed all the others. A voice that rumbled through every nerve ending in your body. Eyes that carried an impossible resolve.
An impossible love.
“My Hearts.”
Your grandmother was still speaking.
“I know you, girl, far better than you know yourself. Your dream of alliance will shatter like all other dreams of peace in this wretched universe. When our people scream under the Imperial boot, they will long for the days when I-”
“No more.”
Her jaw clicked shut, a look of shock coming over her wasted features. You stepped forward, feeling almost in a daze as your eyes passed over her. How old she looked now. How shrunken. Like an emaciated alley cat still hissing and brandishing broken claws.
“I pity you.”
You couldn’t tell what surprised you more: the words you spoke, or the fact that you spoke them with genuine sincerity.
“I may have held compassion for you as well, once. Your life has been cruel and lonely.”
Her face twisted into a mask of baffled loathing.
“You dare-”
“Oh, sh-shut up and let her talk.” Conrad spoke for the first time, his voice shaking slightly.
You spared your cousin a brief smile, then continued moving toward your grandmother. She remained still as stone when you stopped in front of her seated form, looking down on her for the first time in your life. Something in you hardened.
“But you have taken your pain and poured it out on the undeserving.”
***
“Stop! Please, stop!”
Your cries fell on deaf ears. The cudgel rose and fell again and again. Sobs and screams filled the chamber as your maid desperately tried to crawl away, only for the guard’s foot to come down squarely on her bruised back, pinning her in place.
You writhed in another guard’s grip. “She didn’t do anything!”
“I know.”
Your grandmother stood next to you, eyes cold but for the faintest glitter of smug satisfaction.
“Then why?!”
Bony fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look away from the beating and into the Matriarch’s face. “A lesson, girl. So you remember what happens to those you care for when you disobey me.”
***
Reaching out, you lifted your grandmother’s chin, feeling her parchment-like skin under your fingers. “Having known weakness, you took pleasure in your power over others.”
***
“The riot has been quelled, Matriarch.” The Intelligence Colonel’s eyes were carefully blank as she spoke. “We have the ringleaders in custody.”
You perched upon a stool below your grandmother’s throne. Your back ached from hours of maintaining perfect posture. The steel ribs of your tightened corset had surely broken skin by now. But you didn’t dare move a muscle.
The Secretary of Veteran’s Affairs finally spoke through gritted teeth. “Was sending in your Black Squads truly necessary, Colonel? Dozens are dead, hundreds injured!”
“Traitors.” You saw the faintest curve in your grandmother’s lips.
“Veterans of the Ork Incursion of Amanecer! Many of them suffering from chronic wounds and neurological disorders! Their pensions hadn’t been paid in months, their petitions to be treated by Light-blessed Healers denied, what did you expect-”
“You are dismissed, Secretary.”
The man marched out of the Hall with clenched teeth and fists.
“Colonel Foster,” your grandmother’s voice was a purr, “prepare the traitors’ transport to the asteroid penal colonies.” She smiled fully then. “And make sure the Secretary’s son is among them.”
***
You stared down into the old woman’s eyes and felt the last of your fear evaporate. “And still, it was never enough.”
***
“I am Matriarch!”
From behind the door, you flinched. Your grandmother had summoned you to the Council Chamber. Yet you didn’t dare enter after hearing her enraged outburst.
You recognized the Secretary of Preservation’s voice. “Nowhere in the Articles of Government, passed down from the First Captain, are you given authority to disband a religious institute.”
“They openly flaunt my dictates! Shelter dissidents! Poison the media against me!”
The woman continued, voice steady. “All they have done falls within their rights of free speech.”
You jumped at the sound of what you knew must be the Rod of State striking wood. “The First Captain and his Officers would not have allowed such rights if they knew they would be twisted into forces for treason! The last bastion of Humanity That Was must be maintained, with an iron fist if necessary!”
“The video and text records our founders left behind suggest-.”
“Bah! The ramblings of ancients. Outdated and irrelevant.”
A scandalized gasp. “You would scoff at the very foundations of TerraNovan society?!”
“I would suggest those foundations need… revising.”
“With you being the one to do said ‘revising’, I presume?” The Secretary’s voice had lost its calm.
You could hear the venom in your grandmother’s reply. “Precisely.”
***
“You spoke often of defending the TerraNovan way of life, Grandmother, of keeping us strong. And yet you have done more to turn us into a facsimile of the Imperium than any leader in our history.”
You could hear the slightest sound in the cold, dim chamber. The constant tick of cooling and heating metal. The distant thud of footsteps in the corridor without. Your cousin’s increasingly labored breathing.
How your grandmother’s finger joints creaked as they curled into fists at her sides.
The minty freshness of her breath washed over your face. Sweetness at odds with the bitterness of her words.
“You will destroy us all.”
You waited for the shame. The fear. The feelings of inadequacy.
Nothing.
“I do not believe so.” You whispered back. “We can ally with the Imperium without being consumed. We can influence our human brethren for the better. It will be difficult, brutally difficult, but I believe we stand upon the precipice of change.”
“Then you are a fool.”
“Perhaps.” You smiled. “But if to hope is to be foolish, then I would rather be a fool than the wisest of women.”
For the briefest of moments, your grandmother’s contemptuous mask fractured. Her steely eyes softened. She reached up with one icy hand, cupping your cheek in her palm.
“You… are your mother’s daughter.”
The child in you wept.
Then something snapped.You felt it, as if some barrier somewhere had given way all at once. A light flared in your grandmother’s eyes, the hand on your cheek curling around your throat. Her words ripped through your skull with inhuman force.
“I will end you!”
***
Guilliman sensed the shift even before he heard Conrad cry out. The foulness in the recycled air. The pressure against his psyche.
Guilliman ripped the chamber door out of the wall. The metal shrieked as if in pain when he forced his shoulders through the still too small opening, pauldrons grinding, halo tearing the rent even wider.
The scene unfolded before him in the time between heartbeats.
You, on the floor, eyes wide with shock as your fingers clawed desperately at the… thing… crouched over you. It could not be called a woman. Not any longer. Its eyes bulged and blazed with madness. Its stringy hair whipped wildly about its face.
Its slavering maw lowered toward your throat.
Conrad, to Guilliman’s surprise, was not cowering in a corner. He’d latched onto the thing’s back. The tendons in his neck bulged as he pulled with all his meager strength at its twitching shoulders. His terrified eyes found the Primarch’s.
“Help her! By the Light, help her!”
Not me.
Not us.
Her.
“MOVE, BOY!”
The prince flung himself to one side as Guilliman wrenched the thing off you, sending it flying into the far wall with a crunch of frail bones. In the next moment he had you in his arms. He pressed his gauntlet against the bloody scratches on your throat.
I am a Warp-damned FOOL.
The beast he thought he’d coaxed back into its cage after the battle howled within him once more. He pressed you tight against his breastplate.
“Enough of this. Enough! I do not care if I must strap you to my body, you are not leaving my side for the remainder of this voyage. And I will not hear any argument!”
The room trembled beneath the force of a Primarch’s wrath.
Before you could respond, an eerie cackle drew his attention back to the crumpled figure at the base of the wall. A figure that was untangling its mangled limbs like a half-crushed arachnid. A figure whose head flopped to one side on an obviously broken neck.
And still it spoke.
“So protective. So in love! How touching.”
Guilliman snarled. Behind him, he heard Cato activate the Tempest Blade. Tarchus’s chainsword was already revving. He reached for his own weapon.
The thing cackled again.
“You would run Anathema’s sword straight through her if you knew! We know. We know what she is!”
The eyes cleared, the face becoming human once more. It screamed in a voice full of horror and agony.
“Halfbreed bitch! Your mother was a whore and your father-”
The voice cut off as if a hand had wrapped around its throat. The face, switching back and forth from monster to human, bent back. And back. And back. Guilliman heard more bones splintering as its spine twisted into an unnatural arch.
“KILL IT NOW, MY PATRON!”
The voice inside his skull rang with desperation… and familiarity. The Primarch didn’t hesitate. The Emperor’s Sword ignited and swung.
***
In her chamber back aboard the Macragge’s Honour, Indira Patel, called Listener, collapsed to the floor. Blood flowed in a steady stream from her nose. Every muscle in her body twitched and spasmed as she curled into a fetal position, fighting for breath.
A pounding on the door. She heard it open, heard the patter of sandaled feet. Felt arms lift her semi-conscious body.
“Listener! Sister! What has happened?”
Father Gregory’s voice rang with concern. Listener whispered through her exhaustion.
“We… misscalculated… the Withered Branch… a breach….”
She heard the Father’s horrified gasp. “Mother Isha, save us!”
“She… did… gave me… strength… just enough….” Listener panted. “The Bloom… the Long Plan… still safe.”
The Father let out a sob of relief. “Thank the Light!”
Listener felt darkness encroaching. Holding back the breach had taken her to the very limits of her Light-blessed abilities. She needed rest. Desperately.
Warnings: coercion, manipulation, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!
Summary: Vorca and his bonded Mallory are on a date. It goes.
"How could you do this to me?" Mallory asked, their eyes widening as they stared up at their bonded, eyes shining with tears. Their voice was just loud enough to catch the attention of several other marines who happened to be walking past.
Vorca could feel the judgmental eyes on him. He swallowed hard and answered "I don't... I don't know what you're talking about, bonded." His voice quiet, but he could feel the eyes on him keenly.
"You promised that we would spend the day together today! That we'd do everything I wanted to do today, and that you'd cleared your ever so busy schedule so that we could have a day to ourselves." Mallory continued, letting tears well up in their eyes, their voice wobbling with pain and disappointment.
A sound of distress left the Ravenguard and he shook his head, his tongue feeling like lead. It was a blindingly bright day, but his bonded had insisted that he remove his sunglasses as they wanted to see his beautiful dark eyes. He'd tried to remind them that he had very sensitive eyes when it came to bright light, but they'd cried until he promised that he'd keep them off as much as possible. "But... But we are doing what you want, love..." He points out, at a loss as to why they were doing this.
The sense of judgment pressed harder from his cousins around him. The scrutiny was terrifying and was stifling the air in his lungs as tears continued to shine in his beloved's eyes.
He hurried to explain "You said that you wanted to go to your favorite bakery this morning to get fresh sourdough bread and that ground nut spread that you really like. Which we have. You wanted to go to the farmer's market to get fresh vegetables and those cured meats to fill out our picnic, so we have. We... We're about to head to your favorite picnic spot in the park, like you asked. Is there... Is there something else that you want to do today that you haven't mentioned yet?" Anxiety rose within the Ravenguard as he waited for their response, still genuinely struggling to figure out what he could have possibly done to get this response.
"While I was talking to one of my friends, I heard your vox go off and you answered it." Mallory pouted, a single tears sliding down their face.
That was unfair! "You... You were talking to your friend on that vox machine of yours. So I took the brief opportunity to read the message I'd been given to see if it was urgent. It was not and I reminded the cousin who sent me the message that I was not to be disturbed today unless it was an emergency!" Vorca protested, glad that his astartes training prevented him from trembling with the intense emotions that were trying to vie for dominance in his hearts. He's not done anything wrong!
"But you promised not to be on your vox at all unless it was an actual emergency!" Mallory huffed "Am I not worth one single day with you being fully present at my side? Do you really love me?"
Vorca dropped to his knees, knowing that this was going to be the only way that he was going to get them to snap out of this spiral, especially since they were in public and starting to attract more attention. As much as he wanted to flee into the nearest shadow and hide, he knew that Mallory would not take well to him hiding away from the public eye when they got like this. "Beloved... My hearts, my soul... I love you more than I have the words to express. I want to be fully present here with you, and if I could turn off my vox-comms, I would. But that's not how the systems work. Please let me dry your tears and make up for my mistake?"
He doesn't dare touch them when they're in this mood without permission. They're as liable to start screaming as to lean into his touch.
Their lower lip wobbles as more tears shine in their eyes "I... Oh, I suppose... If you promise not to answer your vox for the rest of the day... and I do have an idea as to how you can properly make it up to me for being distracted during our full day date. And I'd like it very much if you'd help me with these tears that you caused me." They sniffle a little and the judgmental stares sharpen upon him. His armor gives him no protection against them, nor the tears his bonded sheds.
"Thank you, my love." Vorca murmurs, pulling out a clean cloth handkerchief from a pouch and gently dabs the tears off of his beloved's face, murmuring more apologies for briefly answering his vox... Despite the fact that they had been on their phone for a good half hour, talking to their friends or texting while he'd been quietly waiting by their side to wait for them to decide to head to the next part of the two of theirs' date.
"You may kiss me, now." Mallory ordered.
And it was an order, not a request. But again, Vorca knew better than to refuse thee command. He stands up slowly and bends over, pressing a sweet and lingering kiss to their lips, per their request. "Yes, my love."
They hum and deepen the kiss as their arms come up to wrap around his neck, squeezing just tightly enough to be uncomfortable before pulling away "Carry me to the park?"
It was phrased like a request, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to refuse this, either. "Yes my love." He answers dutifully, not pointing out the fact that he was already carrying all of the purchases that his bonded had made, and had been doing so for hours, and that to balance them and all of their shopping was going to be difficult. But to point this out would cause them to react worse than they already have. "Please give me a moment to rearrange our shopping bags, so I have a free arm to carry you properly."
"So you can be thoughtful! It's so nice when you remember how to be a proper gentleman." Mallory coos, a sweet smile appearing on their face as they nuzzle him with genuine warmth and delight
Vorca is well practiced in ignoring the way that makes his heart lurch, and he forces a timid smile on his face as he nuzzles them back. He packs as much of the stuff into his pouches and pack as he can and maximizes the space in the reusable bags that they were using to carry everything in, so that he had the fewest number of bags.
"Are you done fiddling with our bags yet?" Mallory presses, an impatient huff in their voice.
"Almost my love. I do not want to spill any of the produce that we have purchased." Vorca assuages. He was sure that he had everything as well packed as he could, he couches down and extends on of his arms out and curls it partially, offering them a seat "Your ride to the park awaits, my radiant love."
They giggle and coo, sitting on the crook of his elbow and leaning into his chest, wrapping their arms around his neck once again "There's my chivalrous knight in shining ebony armor. I knew he'd make an appearance again." They plant a kiss on his cheek that... Burns somehow, for a moment.
He mentally shakes himself as he stands up, picking up the bags and walking with his bonded and their shopping over to the park, heading to one of the most secluded of the picnic tables, choosing the one in full shade, though there are splashes of bright, warm sunlight dappled on the table.
Vorca sets his bonded down in the middle of one of the benches, before methodically setting out the spread of food that they'd purchased for the lunch, kneeling so that the two of them were roughly the same height and asking "May I make something for you to eat with this bounty before us?" He was hoping that this would appease them.
Mallory beams and nods "Yes, make me a sandwich from these toppings, then I want your head resting on my lap while I eat. I know how much you enjoy cuddling me~!"
"Yes my love..." Vorca responds, smiling faintly as he obeys, making the sandwich to their exacting preferences before crawling under the table - as if he sat next to them it would destabilize the table and send everything flying - and resting his head on their lap, closing his eyes. Some of the agonizing headache he had from the far too bright light ebbs a little, causing a sigh of relief to leave him.
They very generously hand feed him bites of their sandwich and sips of water throughout the meal that they eat. They occasionally run a hand through his short hair, and it's almost enough to get him to relax. But only almost, as he is waiting for them to have another request of him at any moment.
Are you ever gonna have the seedlings meet their Astartes? Other than the Vulkan seedling and the Salamanders ofc
The plan is for the Seedlings to introduce themselves to their Astrates and the wider Imperium once they are adults. For now they're a secret, with only a few select, trusted people aware of the project. Guilliman runs the risk of revealing everything because he has to go back and forth. The Victrix Guard and a group of nosey Custodes don't appreciate how often he's disappearing. Revealing the Seedlings to Captain Sicarius proved the Seedlings have the Primarch Aura though.
