#space wolf oc

[treeheehoo]

IT'S NEVER TOO LATE TO BE JOLLY

(I yelled at myself as I started drawing at midnight 25th)

I hope yall have and had umazing holidays :)

feat. Omi, Type and Jørn

[little-miss-bioweapon121]

Anybody have experience with Space Wolf Neophytes?

So this past weekend my Blood Angel, Ingrid, went out for his usual patrol of the woods on my property. He’s usually gone a day or two but that’s fairly normal for an Astartes, especially on a territory as wide as mine, but what wasn’t usual was him coming back home on Monday with a new little buddy in tow.

While not the first time Ingrid has brought me a rescue this is certainly his youngest find.

And also his rowdiest.

Now I specialize in the care of Blood Angels and Night Lords (the two breeds are shockingly alike in the behavioral aspects) and I have years of experience with local rescue shelters, but I’ve never cared for a neophyte before. In fact almost no one I work with has ever cared for a neophyte, these little guys are usually very well protected by their chapters so I’m actually shocked that there wasn’t a Space Wolf immediately at our doors looking for him.

So I guess back to my question: Any tips? I’m not familiar with Space Wolves at all so any advice helps!

I’ve tried asking Ingrid but he doesn’t know much more beyond the basic care that any breed would require.

Photo of Ingrid and the little guy!

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

Fall Weather Frolic!

Been meaning to do a proper portrait of Gallifrey's Primaris Space Wolf OC Thressl for a While.

So here he is enjoying the Crisp Autumn Air with a Run!

A big warm thanks to Gallifrey and all the awesome Warhammer fic writers for the fun times we've had so far in collaboration and may there be Many More!

@kit-williams @sleepyfan-blog @egrets-not-regrets @bispecsual

@nereidof40k @bookandyarndragonwritesdark @legionsofthehungry

@passionofthesith @felinisnoctis @bleedingichorhearts @cunninglinguist-69

[sleepyfan-blog]

Day 10 - Punishment 

A/N: This is the next fic for kinktober 2025! List here. 

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts

@felinisnoctis @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Warnings: poor coping skills, past abuse, let me know if I’ve missed anything and tag it

Summary: Reader comes home to an unexpectedly quiet house. 

You yawn and stretch, rolling your shoulders as you step out of your car and head to your home, a pleased hum. Work had been challenging, but in a satisfying way, and you were more than ready to have dinner, cuddle with your bonded Marine and watch TV until bed time. Maybe go for an evening walk if Fafnir was in the mood for a walk - as your playful Space Wolf often was.

You unlock the door to your home and enter it, bracing for Fafnir to come running to the door and scoop you up in a big bear hug, probably giving you kisses all over your face and neck. When only quiet greeted you as you entered your home, a small frown appeared on your face. You double check your phone, in case you miscounted the days. 

Was Fafnir off with a group of his brothers on a hunt? No, that was in three days, scheduled for the same time that you were going to be away from home for the weekend at a work conference. You and he had coordinated that as otherwise he’d get too worried as to whether or not you would return home that he either got destructive, or tracked you down to the conference and held you in his arms, whining and fussing for hours. 

He also hadn’t sent you any texts about heading out for one reason or another, so as far as you knew, your Marine should be at home. Perhaps he was in the backyard, cooking dinner over a fire, as was his preference in the warm summer months, using the grill you’d gotten him in order to do so safely? 

A quick check of the backyard shows you that there are no Space Wolves in your backyard. Fafnir did make dinner - slow cooker chili and corn bread muffins, the latter of which are still cooling in the tray on the counter. Which means Fafnir has to be in the house somewhere. You wander from room to room, trying to figure out where he could possibly be. Fafnir is a good seven feet tall and built like a furry, red-headed fridge! It should not be this difficult to find him.

You find him kneeling on the floor of your bedroom, forehead pressed against the ground. The ugly vase that your step-mother had gifted you two weeks ago for your birthday with smug tones knowing that you’d have to keep it or risk upsetting her and causing entirely too much family drama having clearly been shattered and pain-stakingly glued back together. 

Oh. Oh.

Fafnir had admitted to you that he’d been captured and tormented by someone for a number of years, after a really bad nightmare had him hiding under your bed, whimpering and flinching whenever you tried to reach out to try and reassure your normally very cuddly Space Wolf. He had not told you much more than that, his face haunted and deeply, deeply ashamed. You’d encouraged him to go to one of the Astartes Support Groups for those who had been held in long-term captivity and it did seem to help.

“Oh Fafnir… What happened?” You asked, voice gentle and non-judgmental, hoping that the neutral tone would help him calm down. From the way he trembled and shook, that was a big no. Damn, and Fafnir’d been doing so well these past couple of months. But you knew from painful experience that recovery was never a linear process. 

“I was doing some clean up around the house and accidentally knocked your new vase to the ground by accident when I bumped it with the end of the broom while sleeping, M-my bonded.” Fafnir responded, face still pressed to the floor. You’d managed to convince him not to call you by certain terms that made moments like this much worse, but he could slip up sometimes. “S-so I put it back together as best as I could and came here, waiting for punishment for being a clumsy fool.”

Your heart ached to see him this way. Curled in as small as a man his size could be and trembling like he expected to be beaten bloody for a small mistake. You suppress the urge to sigh or cry and approach him. You can see the way he tenses, tracking your movements closely. You kneel down next to him and gently tap his shoulders twice, a silent request for him to sit up and look at you.

A request that he grants, slowly. Fafnir doesn’t quite manage to look you in the eyes, but his gaze is focused on your chin. Progress. “I’m not mad at you for accidentally breaking that vase. I think it’s ugly and doesn’t match my aesthetic. And even if you had broken something I do treasure, I know that you didn’t do it on purpose. The restoration job you did on this makes it look better.”

There is a soft whine in his voice as he speaks “I still should have been more watchful of my surroundings. W-what is the punishment I am to receive for breaking it?”

You swallow down the rage at whoever had managed to terrorize this sweet, loving soul. Anger here would not help, and only make Fafnir more distressed. You smile and press a kiss to one of his cheeks “I think you’ve punished yourself quite enough, on my behalf. But if you really insist… Once we are done eating dinner together, I want you to put away the remaining chili and wash all of the dishes and cutlery we use and put them away before we go on our evening walk. Understand?”

Fafnir nods, letting out a slow breath of relief as he gets up off of his knees and onto his feet. “Y-yes b-bonded. I understand. Thank you for being so merciful with me.”

You want to rage and scream that he doesn’t need to be this afraid for making such a small mistake. You want to burn anyone who ever made him feel this small and battered. Instead you smile and gently cup one of his cheeks, gently brushing a thumb across his face in a hopefully soothing gesture. “You’re welcome, Faf. Now, let’s go eat that chili you made. It smells delicious!”

He nods and follows you downstairs as both you and he set the table and grab the fixings for chili. You tell him about your day at work, smiling brighter as your sweet Wolf slowly relaxes over the course of the meal.  

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Answer the Call

Prologue =-= Next

Author's note: Symith's debut in Husbandry!

Warnings: None. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Summary: Symith wakes up on a world he hadn't been on when he'd gone to sleep the night before.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34

The last thing Symith remembers before waking up on this warmly temperate forest floor was celebrating a victory with his brothers. That consisted of feasting, drinking, and boasting of fights and stories of the glories of the past. He'd been very drunk and had helped, as well as been helped by a couple of his brothers as the staggered to their beds, singing and drinking loudly in the halls of their ship.

They'd collapsed in a drunken heap, and fell asleep, he knows that neither of them are on top of and/or next to him, because Vaskarl snores like a bad engine, due to a badly broken nose that hadn't been fixed and Alvunn had a tendency to kick when he slept, the bastard. So he's not Happy when he realizes he's just in his sleeping shorts and weaponless.

He gets up, glad that his Space Marine Constitution means that he doesn't get a Hang Over that base line humans complain about if they drink too much. He takes in a couple of deep breaths through his nose as he looks around trying to gather his Barings. He can smell some pollution in the air, that means that civilization is somewhere on this planet, even if he can't see it at the moment.

Shrugging his shoulders he looks around and tilts his head to the side as he tries to hear for a river or stream as he scratches one of his cheeks as he starts to slowly spiral out from where he was placed. He wonders if this is a 'surprise' training session or if some of his naughty little shit Scouts had decided to prank him and his fellow Sergeants by separating them and putting them on a safe, if unknown planet and were watching and snickering at him from a distance.

If that's the case, he's going to find them, scold them for their audacity, and tell them he was impressed that they managed to pull of something like this. And to impress upon them to Never. Do This. Again. By having them run training sessions until they cried mercy, which he'd only grant two more cycles later.

Pups, could be, should be rowdy at times, but also need to learn respect and to listen to those who know better and have more experience and age under their belts. He'd learned of the Larger Pups- er Primaris Marines. They are an… interesting bunch, getting them to warm up to the rest of them had taken patience and skill.

Some of his brothers had been… uncertain about the pups, but they gotten to know them. Good pups, Large, strong, clever, good hunters. Just need to sharpen their teeth, but that comes with age and time and battles won. As he continued to explore the forest, he finds a river and watches how active it is and slowly scoops up a handful of water and drinks from it.

The water is nice and cool, refreshing, and only a hint of pollution making it bitter on his tongue. Watching it's flow he nods his head a little and starts to walk along the water's edge downstream. Most civilizations build along, around, or near sources of water. Unless some other reasons, environmental or dangers, made them build farther away.

He continues to walk, it's a nice forest, filled with life and greenery. He's used to the bitter ice and cold of Fenris, but more temperate worlds can be a treat to relax on from time to time. It takes several hours, but he hears the sounds of civilization a lot sooner than his sight starts to see the outline of base line human built buildings.

He hears the sound of city life clammer out cacophonously as he hears the… hm… He doesn't recognize the language that the locals are speaking, which will make things difficult. Well, time to see how these base liners react to partial nudity and Astartes in nothing but shorts.

The reactions from base line humans can be hilariously entertaining at times. Some can't stop but stare at his form, as muscular and strong as he is. Their eyes tracing his scars and what not. He's walking through the city and is amused to see the way that the base line humans to double takes and sometimes gawk at him. One of them is on a miniature data-slate, tapping away at it furiously and several minutes later some Imperial Fists show up. Boo. They can be No Fun at times.

As they head over to him, the Imperial Fist in Charge taking off his helmet and saying, "Greetings Cousin, I am Brother Captain Castor Polion of the Imperial Fists. What's your name?"

"I am Brother Sargent Symith of the Space Wolves, Fourth Company," Symith says with a drawl, "And before you say anything. I woke up in a forrest several hours on foot in the south-westerly direction."

They explain to him where, and when he is, and how randomly Space Marines from various Eras would arrive. It didn't seem to matter when or where they were from. Which Legion or Chapter, as well as which Alignment they are from. They also explain about the Alliance between the various factions, in order to not tear apart Ancient Terra.

He's not sure how he feels about that, but so long as the non-imperial factions don't start shit he won't. He tells them as such. The Imperial Fist Brother Captain nods in agreement and he decides to follow the lot of them back to their base.

He's glad to have more clothes and shoes, and a bit grumpy, but understanding that they don't have armor for him. What with it being damn impossible to make more in Ancient Terra. Still, he'd like to have something more than cloth to protect himself.

They likely want him to prove himself before arming him, as much as it chafes, it makes sense that they would have to be cautious and hoard their resources on this precious lonely blue pearl of a planet.

[idle-skull]

Woof

[lore-pls]

tmw you do a dumb little sketch of an OC idea and immediately realize you love this idiot

[sleepyfan-blog]

Day 9 - Permanent Marks

A/N: This is the next fic for kinktober 2025! List here. 

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts

@felinisnoctis @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Warnings: reader insert, Tell me if I missed something to tag!

Summary:  Sturm and his bonded have a brief check-in chat. 

“And… You’re sure you want this, my love?” Sturm asks, running a gentle hand through his beloved’s short, wavy hair. “My mark on your shoulder in ink, for all to see, for all time?”

“Yes, I’m certain.  You have my name carved into the base of one of your mechadendrites. Rings can be lost, words are cheap. But marks like this last forever. This isn’t the first tattoo I’ve gotten.” You respond, leaning into his touch and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. 

Your newly not-blinded Space Wolf relaxes a little. You know that he’s been having difficulties adjusting to the cybernetic implants that he’d been given and only turned them on a couple of hours at a time, overwhelmed by the sensory input. “Alright, love. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that while I am honored that you are taking my mark, as I have taken yours, you do know that I would understand if you didn’t.” As much as he wanted to tuck his mate into his room that he’d been given on base and never let you out again… 

That would be highly hypocritical of him. He loved to run and hunt in the wild woods of Ancient Terra. To fight and play wrestle and make things for and with his fellow Vlyka Fenrika. He could not, in good conscience, tie you down when he himself could not, had not, survived well in captivity. And he made sure that his own bonded brothers did not try to tie their Fenris-guided mates to the hearth and home against their will, either. 

“And I’m glad that you’re checking in with me, love. I want to do this, and I’ve shown you when you’ve got your eyes how I want it to look. The tattoo artist I’m going to is the best in the state, and I’m looking forward to the appointment. And they do offer topical anesthetic, if it does start to hurt too much, though one of the reasons why I picked the upper shoulder is because it’s not going to hurt as much as the heart on my ribs did, last time.” You answer, leaning up and giving your wolf husband a kiss on the lips.

He lets out a happy rumble and kisses you back, thickly muscled arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzles you. “My hearts beat for you, my love.”

“As mine beats for you. Now, I’ve got another hour before I need to head off to get the tattoo, do you want to show me that carving you’ve been working on?” You ask smiling affectionately at Sturm.

He nods and leads you by the hand to his woodworking studio, his steps confident and quick, despite his lack of sight most of the time, knowing that you hadn’t rearranged the furniture for him to trip over, chatting excitedly about the statue he was making for the Salamanders - apparently a bust of their Primarch - a figure of great renown and myth.