#FOR SERF

[satyr-hole]

Girl when I tell you my life flashed before my eyes

[florad0ra]

Absolutely obsessed with this hurdy gurdy rigged up to a tredle sewing machine stand. Man is going NUTS on the thingamabob!!!

His tiktok has more videos as well!

[serfmortimer]

I muste, [doth remember that self-deprecation bringeth ill to mine own mental health] plow the fields

[kumratart]

AWWWW!!! oh my gosh this is so CUTE!! and I know all about having BEASTS around, cats are so adorable- all of this is so adorable (I hope he can smell all the rats on her xD)

BLESS YA!! Thankyou so much this is so cute and such a lovely surprise!!!

@kumratart ‘s serf meeting Sif!

Every serf knows to have treats on hand in case the Beast comes around

[theonion]

In a discouraging indicator of the nation’s diminishing civic awareness, a report released this week by Gallup revealed that the vast majority of Americans are unable to name their state’s current shadow lord. “Our survey found that less than a quarter of the citizens of any given state are capable of identifying their district’s shadow lord, and even fewer could identify his blood sigil or even the parcel of the Dark Penumbra over which he holds dominion,” lead researcher Linus Wetzel said of the findings, which also showed that 92 percent of U.S. residents were incapable of locating their state’s House of Revenants on a map, and only 6 percent could recall a single one of the 12 writs that dictate the proceedings of the Collective.

Full Story

[coldfeeshes]

MERRY DRARRYMAS !!!!

im BOOBOO THE FOOL…… posted on twitter on the right day tho 🥹🥹🥹

thank u to all the lovely people in drarryland 🥺🥺 its been a fun few months !! heres to many more… very happy this fandom remains so creative and strong💕

[asp1diske-art]

On Harmony, Communication, and Good Will

+)

(Script under cut)

Do not be seen, do not be heard. Use hidden passages when you move. Be at hand before you are called. The serf lived as someone else’s background their entire life.

-

So when they ran from their home to the monastery it was only natural that the first thing they saw was the man at the lowest.

-

Greetings. Would you like to share this? ? I am sorry, I am not yet fluent in your language…

-

Ah, you must be one of the people from the upper floor. Well, I'll gladly take the food! No idea what you’re saying though. … Come to think of it, do you know this person?

-

Oh…! I heard they helped us come to the monastery. Though I only saw them in passing. (A stranger…? In here…? They’re not a serf…) I thought they were a pilgrim in search of the tower or the church. Turns out they were a traveler with no ties in the land.

-

When they saw me begging, they started. Searched their pockets and then ran off. And then, they came running back all out of breath. And handed me a coin.

-

A penniless traveler in a foreign land, running about to help a beggar they met on the streets. Isn’t it funny?

-

… They’re a good man. …Yes, they truly are.

-

Greetings! Greetings! Greetings!

[vigilskeep]

like i hate to be put in the position where i have to defend the orlesians but giving everyone flimsy identical masks and then making val royeaux two courtyards and a café was diabolical

[kumratart]

More serf girl. Screenshot practice.

[beckyninja]

Relief

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: talk of periods, sexual content, MDNI

Description: Titus "helps" his serf lover through a particularly painful time of the month.

Forget whatever I said about my last fic. This one is definitely the spiciest thing I've ever written! I had planned on something entirely different, but then "that time of the month" reared its ugly head. And suddenly all I could think about was having a strong, handsome Astartes to help me through it.

Titus didn’t sprint, though he wanted to. 

After enduring the ominous warnings of the Chaplain, the disdain of Captain Acheran, and the incessant prying of his new squad (not to mention the small matter of a tyranid invasion), he longed for the solace of your presence.

Your touch.

Rage still burned like promethium within him when he remembered entering his quarters to find you half-starved. 

“You’re alive.” You’d whispered upon seeing him. “You’re alive.”

When I find the one responsible for her suffering….

His growl sent several serfs darting out of his path. He walked faster and, at last, the door to his quarters came into view. Soon, he would have you in his arms.

Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought. 

The first time he lay with you, before Kadaku and his remaking, had been beyond his imaginings. Baseline anatomy lessons from his neophyte days supplied the rudiments. But he had the Space Wolves and a solitary Salamander he’d met in the Death Watch to thank for the rest.

He’d encountered the former boasting of their conquests one evening in the dining hall after one of them had smuggled in a few barrels of foul-smelling mjod. As they grew more intoxicated, they delighted in shocking the more puritanical Astartes in the Watch with detailed descriptions of “fraternization”. 

Titus remembered being repulsed at first. Though, against his better instincts, that repulsion soon turned to wary curiosity. 

While the Wolves howled about conquering and claiming, a Salamander Apothecary had taken a seat next to Titus and shaken his head.

“Not all baseline females are the wild she-wolves of Fenris.” The old drake had rumbled quietly. “If an Astartes is blessed with the affections of a woman, he should cherish her with gentleness, for she is rare and precious.”

Titus remembered a sorrowful look in the veteran’s red eyes as he spoke, and the way he stroked a bone reliquary tied at his waist. 

He had tried to incorporate all he’d overheard into your union. You’d been so fragile in his hands, so vulnerable. And when your body welcomed him inside. When, amidst the white heat of his own ecstasy, he saw you gaze up at him….

Throne of Terra, I would slaughter every tyranid in the Hive Fleet to have you look at me like that always.

He punched his code into the access panel. He only had a few hours of leisure to spare, and a third of that had already been taken up in removing his armor. But he needed to feel your skin upon his again.

The door hissed open and-

Blood.

Every enhanced sense he possessed sharpened to a razor’s edge as the metallic scent filled his nostrils. Unlike before, when his mind had been clouded by sleep, he knew with absolute certainty this blood came from your body. 

The room was empty. Half the candles lit. One smoking tapir on its side by the cot. Indents on the mattress the size of small baseline hands. Drops of red on the floor. The sharp taste of stress and pain chemicals. Soft whimpers from the lavatory.

All this came to him in the time between heartbeats. Another heartbeat and he stood before the closed lavatory door.

“Little Healer?”

The medicae had said you would be fine. An injection of nutrients, a high calorie meal, and rest. You already looked better when he left you in the infirmary. They said you would be fine.

He’d had to leave. He had no choice. They said you would be fine!

“Demetrian?”

Conscious and able to speak. He leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the door.

“I am coming in.”

A sharp gasp. “No! Just, just give me a moment, please.”

He heard pain in your voice. His instincts screamed at him to tear through the metal to reach you.

The door slid open.

Pale skin. Sweat beads on your forehead. Hunched shoulders. You smiled up at him, but reeked of misery.

He scooped you into his arms. ���We are returning to the infirmary.”

“Demetrian-”

“You are still unwell.”

“Demetrian, please-”

He strode toward the door of his quarters. “Or did you injure yourself?”

“No, Demetrian! Listen-”

“I should not have left you alone.”

A tiny fist bounced off his jaw. He stopped mid-stride and looked down at you in shock. You looked back at him, then down at your clenched fist, seemingly stunned by your own actions.

“I…I…,” you closed your eyes and breathed deeply, “I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t know what came over me.”

“My lord?” He muttered. 

“Please put me down. I’m not unwell. And I’m not injured.”

He scowled. “You reek of blood, woman.”

Throne, has whatever hurt she suffered affected her mind as well?

“I know, but it’s…it’s natural, Demetrian.”

The Warp it is. “Explain.”

She sighed. “Can you put me down first? Please?”

“No.” 

He tightened his grip. If her mind was unbalanced, who knows what she might do if he released her.

Another sigh. “Fine. Once a month, a woman’s body undergoes a certain process….”

He remained silent during her entire explanation. When she finished, he carefully set her upon his cot.

“And this…cycle…causes pain?”

“Every woman experiences it differently. Some only ever feel mild discomfort, for others it’s little short of agony.”

You bit your lip. The pain smell spiked and, with it, his concern. 

“Why have I not noticed before?”

You breathed slowly now, in through your nose, out through your mouth. “You’ve always been on mission during this time. And…agh…in the Watch Fortress, Lord Apothecary Nev’ran made sure to set pain suppressants aside for us female serfs.”

The old Salamander always had a soft spot for the baselines, Titus remembered.

A low moan drew his attention back to you. You folded on his cot, arms wrapped around your midsection. 

His fingers twitched, automatically seeking a weapon. The instinct to destroy whatever caused you pain surged. He needed to fix this.

“Did you request pain suppressants from the medica?”

You started rocking slightly. “I…tried. He said they were unnecessary and dismissed me. I didn’t dare argue. In the Fortress, there were serfs I could go to for help during this time.” You looked up at him with a tight smile. “But I’m beginning to think I’m the only woman on this ship.”

Titus thought back over the last few days, and all the baseline crew he’d encountered.

She may be right.

“Oh Emperor….” 

Your whimper felt like another Carnifex talon through his chest.

“There must be something I can do.” He knelt before you, cupping your face in his hand. “Anything.”

You pressed against him. “Heat. Heat sometimes helps.” 

He let you move his hand to your lower stomach. You opened your robes and pressed it against your skin. 

“And, on my back, please?” 

Before you’d even finished asking, he slipped his other hand in and around. You gripped his arms and whined.

“Oh, oh yes.” 

He shouldn’t be aroused by this. You were still in pain. But your soft sounds of helplessness, the feel of your skin beneath his hands, the way you trembled. All of it called to a primal part of him only recently awakened.

And when you looked up at him in wonder and said, “You’re…you’re so much bigger now.”

Throne damn it.

Titus yanked you to him and took your mouth. You yelped, but did not struggle, instead throwing your hands around his neck and digging your fingers into the hair at his nape. He snarled at the sensation, pushing his tongue past your lips like you’d shown him that first night.

This time your moan sounded of pleasure.

He pressed his body against you, lowering you to your back on the cot. Your hands left his neck and fluttered against his chest. You pulled away from his kiss.

“Demetrian….”

He pressed his mouth to your throat, laving it with his tongue and tasting your sweat. He searched for a spot he could bite without leaving a visible mark. 

“Demetrian, stop!”

The magnitude of his selfishness crashed upon him.

“Throne. Forgive me, Little Healer.” Reeling back, he searched your face for any sign of pain. “I…I did not think, I…,” he raked a hand over his face, desperately trying to rein in his baser instincts.

“It’s all right. It’s just, now might not be the best time.”

“Would it cause you more pain?”

A blush spread across your cheeks. “Um…no, that’s not it. In fact, some women say…this…actually helps.”

“Truly?” 

Desire welled within him once more, washing away any lingering guilt. He bracketed your small body with his hands and loomed over you. 

“Then why should I stop?” You turned your face away, but he gently grasped your chin. “Look at me, and tell me why.”

“It, it,” he heard your heart beating wildly, “it could get a bit…messy.”

He blinked, then allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “Woman, when has an Astartes ever shied away from the sight of blood?”

A new smell met his nose, one he had only recently become familiar with. He lowered his face close to yours and inhaled deeply. 

“You want this as much as I.”

You nodded frantically, hands suddenly pawing at his collar. “Yes! I want this. Please, Demetrian. Please, please, please!”

He tore his robe open and flung it to the floor. Your clothing swiftly followed. The scent of blood and arousal maddened him. He tried to pull your thighs around him, but you winced at the stretch.

For the first time he cursed the Primaris surgery. Grasping your hips, he turned you on to your front and settled behind you. He ran his hands down your back and sides, loving the way you trembled.

“Are you ready for me, my love?”

You pushed back against him. “Please, Demetrian.”

He thrust and your wet heat welcomed him in. His eyes rolled at the sensation, still so unlike anything he ever thought he’d experience. You cried out far louder than you had the first time. 

“Demetrian! S-so big…!”

Again. Again. Again, he thrust. In this position he felt powerful, primal. Like a beast claiming its mate.

The Wolves were right, damn them!

All at once, you tightened and screamed. With a growl he followed you over the edge. 

You collapsed onto your front. “Please…more….”

The first time, he’d only taken you once, denying his satisfaction for the sake of your overwhelmed little body. But now you begged him to continue. Who was he to refuse?

Three more times he released deep within. He pressed himself to your back, hand fondling your breasts as he pounded relentlessly. He lost count of how many times you shook apart around him. His own blinding pleasure paled in comparison to the knowledge that his actions relieved your pain. 

A tool designed to inflict suffering on others, but he brought you ecstasy.

“D-Demetrian…,” you whimpered. 

His fingers dug into the bruised flesh of your hips. “One more.”

You wailed as he filled you one last time, arching his spine to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Then he collapsed on his side.

He caressed your sweat-streaked back, allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the haze of pleasure. You lay still and panting next to him. 

“Are you well, my love?”

“Mmmm.”

By now, he recognized the sound of bone-deep satisfaction. He smiled down at you, already feeling his own body recovering. 

“You were right about one thing.”

“Mmm?”

“That was rather messy.”

You turned your head and attempted to glare at him. He chuckled, rose, and fetched a wet cloth from the lavatory. Ignoring your reaching hands, he cleaned the both of you. Then he sat on the edge of the cot and lifted you into his arms.

“Better?”

Your dreamy smile answered him. An entirely different kind of heat warmed his hearts as he cradled you. He ran a thumb over the imprint of teeth on your shoulder.

“I was not too rough?”

“You were perfect.” Your hands traced his new scars. “Throne of Terra, I came so close to losing you, didn’t I?”

He heard tears in your voice and held you closer.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. “Another side effect of this time. I tend to turn into something of a weepy, clingy mess.”

“I enjoy your clinging.”

“But you need to go.”

“Yes.” As always, your respite, brief as it was, left him better prepared to handle the weight of his duty. “Will you be alright?”

“You have enough trouble without worrying about me, Demetrian. Human women have endured since our species began. I’ll be fine.” Your smile flickered. “Please, be safe. I love you.”

“And I you.” He pulled his robe back on and leaned down to kiss you once more. “I will return.”

And, I swear, I will find another way to ease your pain. 

***

An hour passed. You rested for a bit, then dressed and cleaned yourself more thoroughly. You stripped the sheets from the mattress and prepared for the trek to the laundry and then the serf’s dining hall. Not only had Titus's attentions eased your cramps, but you thought you might actually have an appetite again.

Just as you were about to leave, a few sharp raps sounded at the door.

“Who…?” 

You opened it to find a slight young woman with a face full of freckles and a satchel over one shoulder. Her robes marked her as a serf and a medica.

“Thank the Emperor!” She gushed. “I was afraid I’d gotten the wrong room!”

“Um. Hello?”

“My name is Vesta. I was just transferred here alongside my Lord Callistus. He’s supplementing the Apothecaries already in residence, you know. I was afraid I’d be the only woman! There are so few of us serving on the battle barges.”

You blinked, head-spinning from the rapid-fire chatter. “I see?”

She continued, stepping straight past you into the room. “I was just on my way back to the infirmary, when this massive Primaris Lord Angel barreled down on me. How fearsome he was! I don’t need to tell you I was terrified I’d done something wrong, and on my first day on a new ship, too! But he said you were experiencing some difficulties and needed assistance.”

Oh, Demetrian…. You fought a smile.

Vesta plopped the satchel on the cot. “I have pain suppressants, cleansing cloths, sanitary napkins. I do hope I brought enough.”

“This is incredibly kind of you.”

“Us women have to stick together, right?” She smiled cheerfully. “I hope we’ll be great friends!”

You found yourself warming to her effervescence. “I would like that.”

“You’re so fortunate to have a Lord Angel who’s attentive to your needs!”

You turned away, suddenly all too aware of the pleasant ache between your thighs. “Yes. I am.”

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @b-rabbitboss @vyzz-undercover

@missmannequin @rivalriotrenegade @iloveoutlinesiswear @jaghatai-khock

If you enjoy my writing, check out the rest of the stuff on my Masterlist.

[theartgremlin]

Can’t decide if I’m gonna finish this or not…

[moodymisty]

Ultramarine and Night Lord serf the beginnings. Might change his hair.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

All Eyes On Me

Author's note: So I got some muse to continue this one- and a lovely message from a certain somebody helped me continue this silly series

Warning: LMK if I need to add anything. Cato Sicarius Being Himself

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @i-am-a-dragon34, @egrets-not-regrets, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @cheapflame

Summary: Cato Sicarius is So Normal. He is the Normal-est Marine.

You were working on the ship, doing the assigned task that your supervisor had given you. Helping to tend to the Votive candles on the ship, making sure they are still lit and tended to. As to make sure there isn't too much wax and that the small bit of smoke from the candles didn't mess up the walls that were next to the candles as you carefully scrubbed the walls, without accidentally getting the fire blown out of the candles. As you tended to the various candles and washed down the walls and the floors you made sure that you were out of the way of Lord Angels and the other. As you hear the distinctive movements of a Lord Angel you shift a bit and glance and turn bright red and turn your face back to the part of the wall you were scrubbing. You heard the voice- the strident and familiar voice of Second Captain Cato Sicarius. The man was naked as a baby and dripping liquids of some kind and he stomps down the ship. One of his fellow Lord Angels- an Apothecary is shouting after him.

"And I told you- I won't stay a moment longer to get back into my gear and get my Tempest blade back!" Cato Sicarius bellows out.

"At least put on something to cover your bits." Someone says, 'There are new Scout on board- and don't need to see you like that so soon. We are supposed to the Finest Chapter of the Legios Astartes."

"We are the finest Chapter of Astartes!' Lord Sicarius bellows back as he turns around his.

Oh you can see his naughty bits swinging freely. Glistening with- is that water? Sweat? Or a medicinal fluid. You had heard that he and a few other brothers had fought in a Glorious Battle for the God Emperor recently. Your cheeks are flushed red as you edge to another section of the way and continue to scrub the wall.

You must have made too much noise as both Lord Angels turned to look at you. For some reason the other Lord Angel started ... if you didn't know better almost smirking and chortling at Lord Captain Sicarius.

"What are you doing here Serf?!" The Second Captain Cato Sicarius demands.

'Is it just me, or is his voice a little higher pitched than normal?' You wonder quietly.

"I am cleaning this section of the ship, Lord Astarte." You say making sure to focus on your job and not look at- at all of THE Second Captain.

"Hmp." The Second Captain grunts and you can hear the scowl, "And Why aren't you looking at me when I speak to you, serf?"

"I-I am attending to my duties." You squeak out.

"And you are buck arse naked, as a babe fresh from the womb, only far to large and ugly." A welcome voice comes over, teasing the other angel.

"Mind your tone and words, Fourth Captain," Cato growls out at Ventris with a scowl as he stomps over to his younger brother with a grumble.

"And you need to learn to wear clothes when fresh out of the Apothecarium patching you up." The Fourth Captain says dryly as he tries to help Massinius to corral his recalcitrant brother to somewhere potentially less damaging to his reputation.

[heretical-cogitations]

Don't know if anyone else has said this but I've been seeing alot of talk about space marines having an enhanced sense of smell and how they can sniff out arousal etc.

BUT imagine if that's just what the armory smells like because everyone in there dressing them is so down bad.

To the point the space marine doesn't  realise what the smell actually is and is stood there wondering why their serf smells like the changing room.

[angronius]

tonights whorus

[starrynighttime]

Ever wonder how the Serfs got to the Abbey?

Translation under the cut (contains spoilers for the actual game!)

Free.

Free, Abbey is.

Idiots, we are not.

Freedom, we seek.

Path to the Abbey, we sought. North, we went.

Fortress, we found.

Greetings. Warriors, you are?

Chosen Ones!

Chosen Ones carry instruments. Warriors love music!

Abbey, we seek.

Chosen Ones seek impures? Warriors can help.

Warrior, halt! Impures do not pass.

Chosen Ones can pass.

Freedom, we sought.

Brothers, we found.