#commissar lazy

[lazywriter-artist]

Guilty pleasure yarrick doodle :3

He’s having fun I promise :3c

[lazywriter-artist]

Grandpappy nurgle gotta stop sending me these gifts

[lazywriter-artist]

Warp bunny silliness :3

Powder is a silly boy heheh

I made him some friends

Honeybun and scamp!!

Yeah…powder and scamp get along great—

Ignore them honeybun is being cute

He heals you!

Have the baby

Plus even some lazy sillines

Yes :)

[lazywriter-artist]

While all that cool fun stuff is happening— commissar check up!

[lazywriter-artist]

Sometimes ya gotta sit back, relax, and excessively doodle old men you find bby grl.

March? More like mewing— is explodes by big E himself

March here is @selemina fella! ( @taryn40k is their warhammer blog :3) also feel free to smite me yourself for drawing my pookie bear your fella like this

Cooking by the book!

Sometimes ya just gotta save a pretty face 🤩 oh and iron within iron without or whatever shhh

Just helping the fella out 😔

[lazywriter-artist]

Sometimes your so exhausted you need a simpler way to draw the pookie

Hugs for pookie!!!

Just want…pizza rolls…

Cuddles!

Walk :)

[lazywriter-artist]

Ease my pains

Wh40k writing practice + self indulgence

It had been a hard day, lots of walking.

Walking always upset the joints, as did copious standing, maneuvering during battle, clambering up stairs, ladders, scaling steep inclines and really any general changes in weather or temperature when going or returning from various planets. There was much to displease the joints and the muscles after all, especially at his age. Yarrick, however, was used to it. It came with the territory of not only his age but his line of work. The same tenants he upheld to be a great commissar were the same that ravaged his dwindling articulation. Though, He didn’t mind. Honestly, as far as Yarrick was concerned? The pain was simply a sign his work had been well that day.

Of course, if HE was aching to a point his mind could pick it out of the numerous sensations his body usually sent him, this meant one thing. His apprentice’s body was likely ravaging them all the same, if not worse. The poor nipper had worse knees than he did, quite the feat with how much younger they were than him. Despite the stoic face they always tried to present, Yarrick knew well enough the fledgling was often in some awful pain when they had their flare-ups. Beyond their control and merely master to the agony… He recalled one night in particular, after a similarly long and hard day brimming with all the typical offenders for horrid counterattacks of angry muscles and commissures, the poor boy had sprawled out on the floor of Yarrick’s small ‘office’ space on the trip back. Desperately trying to seek the chill of the ground and propping his legs up on the nearest chair to try and quell the rebellion beneath his dermis. He had not even heard the words Yarrick spoke until directly addressed for the fifth time, which is when he was quick to jump up and apologize, insisting he was receptive this time to whatever Yarrick was saying (even though Yarrick knew damn well the pain was still etched into his mind and clawing for his attention). Yarrick knew the young commissar-to-be could often times barely think when his body attacked itself in such a way and, sure as the Throne was golden, Yarrick found them in that all too familiar pose. His Legs propped up in a desperate attempt to stop the aching, face covered with his coat trying to block out light and get some rest to escape the pain, with quiet groans being under the assumption of being alone and able to let the agony manifest into real space. Like clockwork as soon as Yarrick’s boot steps and mechanical whirring were registered by the commissar-in-training, he would cease the groans of pain and fumble to his feet.

“C-commissar!- oh my! I’m sorry I- didn’t even realize you were there!” his nervous voice insisted as he tried not to look Yarrick in the eye, Yarrick however picked up right away on the puffy, red eyes. Poor nipper had been crying, That won’t do. Yarrick rose a hand to silence the incessant apologies, shaking his head.

“Don’t. There is no need, I’ve told you before.” The old man snorted as he motioned for the boy to follow, staggering to his chair. Slowly allowing himself to sink into the plush fabric of the seating, Yarrick would lean back as the mechanism grunted and hissed from its old age, grinding as the thing pulled back to lay him down and prop his legs up. He patted the spot beside him in the large reclined seat, practically growling orders to the apprentice, “now get over here and lay down. Rest those weary bones, you’ve most certainly earned it.”

His tired old voice rumbled with an air of finality as his fledgling hesitated, thinking this offer over (as if there was any other option aside from the obvious one of carefully clambering into the large piece of furniture beside Yarrick). Finally, he was curling up beside the older mentor with a heavy breath. Closing his eyes and he took in the quiet sounds of Yarrick’s breathing and the churning of the orkish prosthesis. It had always been a calming sound to the nipper, so Yarrick would always do his best to use that to his advantage. Taking time when he could to use it as a distraction, they didn’t handle pain well after all.

Pressing their face close to Yarrick’s chest, the younger figure yawned, a few more straggler tears trickled from their tired eyes and before Yarrick even knew it, they were both asleep. Cuddled close together and preparing to take on the next days challenges, one little step at a time. After all, it had been a hard day with lots of walking. That always upset the joints.

[lazywriter-artist]

Woe, old man be upon ye! :DD (so, Commissar Lazy? Still not afraid of no Inquisitor? ;D)

Ah them xenos and their— active imaginations! Little thing just loves making up stories!! Ha- hah— eeeh 😬