hashiruchan

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Leman Russ 🐺🍺

Another pookie

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Horus Lupercal 🐺🌘

idk sorry if I'm taking a while to draw them all D:

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~Wip~ Konrad n Fulgrim in squid game

My headcanon is that if Konrad and Fulgrim were in squid game they would be like Thanos and namgyu lol Think about it they would be dancing around and messing around in the middle of the chaos

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Fulgrim & Ferrus 🥀

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Peso pluma Stickers (?)

I've been kind of obsessing over this guy and haven't found any merch here where I live but then I thought…"Hey, I'm an artist too right?" and I made my own stickers >:)

I have most wh40k drawings pending, I'll soon upload them at least as sketches so you can see that I haven't forgotten

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Child!Konrad - Hungry, Hungry.

Characters/Mentions:

Konrad Curze, The child Primarch of the Night Lords.

You, owner of a Nostromian restaurant.

POV: Second Person.

Summary: Rats are not uncommon when caught stifling through your trash. Children, however, are.

Inspired by @/TheThroneZones Konrad Curze's post.

Part II - Bathwater Blues.

____

Long days of work were to be expected on Nostromo Quintus.

With the stress of crime, the bustle of life, and the sheer amount of bullshit you had to go through every day, it was a miracle you hadn’t lost your mind on that barely lit planet.

There were days where you considered taking the easy way out. Exhaustion and pure dread, no vision of a life past the haze and smog of the hive.

Mellow music played as you boredly swept the floor of your shoddy little restaurant. Worn down by age, loved eternal by the sole owner. She’d resisted so much. Broken windows, 6 shattered locks, and 7 robberies. Hell, you’d replaced your crappy little radio at least 3 times since you got it.

Sure, there wasn’t a lot of attention, nor was the cash flowing in. But she was yours.

And that wasn’t an easy thing to say on Nostromo.

The woman on the radio sang to some jazzy tune, barely audible as you swayed along to her voice, catching dirt and dust with your straw broom. You whistled as you swept under tables, wiped down the counters, and mopped the stray strange liquid on the bathroom floor.

By the time you had finished the dining area, the knees of your pants were wet from mop water, and your hands sore from the labor put into your work.

And that wasn’t even counting the endless amount of dishes you’d have to wash and put up. And the leftovers. The drakking leftovers.

You complained under your breath and dragged your hands under your eyes, tempted to just leave the dishes to rot in the sink.

But you’d rather not deal with the stench of rotting food.

With a drawn-out groan, your forehead slammed against the table. And when the familiar rustle of rats began to echo from the back alley behind the restaurant, you almost screamed.

Grabbing your broom and a spiteful pep in your step, you stormed through the kitchen and slammed the back door open, prepared to wipe out those damned rats finally.

“I swear to the endless night if you frakking pests continue to chew through my trash bags, I’m putting rat poision in the trash!” You raised your broom as you muttered your deceleration, preparing to hit the shifting shadow, obscured by trash cans.

However, before you could, a harsh hiss snapped you out of your anger.

Much to your surprise, instead of rats digging through your trash, a malnourished child squatted in front of a torn bag. It—they(?) were elbow-deep in rotted food, clothed in nothing but a ratty loincloth, despite the harsh cold winds of the night.

The child hissed at you again, baring their filthy teeth, caked in plaque and half-chewed bread. As you lowered the broom, they scurried back with their farthest leg, their mannerisms almost cat-like as they fiercely snatched and held a piece of inedible meat against their chest.

As you looked closer, you could count the ribs that poked out of the child's skin. Their fingers were long and bony with nails grown way past the hygienic standard. Their skin was as pale as a corpse. It barely looked like blood circulated through their body. Their hair was dark and greasy, the ends soaked in what you hoped was oil and not blood.

You held your hands up, dropping your broom in a flash to signal surrender. Where you once felt anger was replaced with regret and pity. Orphans were not uncommon—but damnit, if it didn't break your heart to see them.

“Hey—Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” You tried to soothe them, dropping to a kneeling squat, whispering like you would a cat. “It’s okay. I’m harmless.”

The child only hissed again, baring their disgusting teeth toward you.

You backed up in retaliation, giving them enough space until they stopped hissing, resorting to a low growl as they sank their teeth into the rotten meat.

“Are you hungry?” You asked, looking between them and the meat. “I have some food—it’s cooked. And I can warm it up!”

That ceased their growling.

They removed their teeth from the meat, instead settling to watch you.

You continued.

“It’s a hearty grox stew,” You recited your menu. “With veggies and chunks of meat. Real good. Real tasty on these cold nights.”

They tilted their head.

“Mhm,” You grinned, seeing their interest. “With bread. You like bread, yeah? It’s fresh.”

That got them inching toward you. A success in your book.

“It’s tasty.” You rubbed your stomach, much like a parent would toward a toddler. “Do you want some?”

Ever so slowly, they crept toward you. Their teeth were still bared in a snarl, but it was less harsh than before. You backed up, letting them crawl to you and set the boundary. Like a feral cat, they watched your every move, hissing softly if your hand drifted too close to the broom and snarling if you made a move they didn't like.

Eventually, you hit the back door, and gradually, you opened it, letting the soft warmth of the restaurant waft out and hit both of your skins. The child reeled their head back in surprise, clacking their teeth softly before dashing in before you, chasing the warmth greedily.

They stood in the kitchen wide-eyed, black little balls of night looking all through the dimly lit room. They curled their arms around their shoulders, squeezing their skinny biceps as their gooseflesh slowly faded off their skin. Slowly, they investigated the kitchen, pacing the tiled floor before pushing out the door, investigating and sniffing around the restaurant.

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head before grabbing a bowl and turning your attention to the still-warm pot on the stove. Scooping out a hefty portion of grox, veggies, and broth, you cradled the bowl close, simultaneously grabbing a few chunks of bread and tossing them onto a small plate.

Stepping out of the kitchen, you looked around the dining area, looking for the scrawny kid who had suddenly disappeared.

When you didn't find any trace of them, you called out, hoping they heard you.

Nothing.

With a sigh, you set the bowl of stew and the plate of bread on the table. “Well, if you want it, it’s here. I won’t bother you, bud.”

With that, you left them to their devices.

Returning to the kitchen, you turned the radio down, listening carefully to see if the kid would actually eat, paying attention to the occasional step misplaced or hopefully, the clutter of silverware. When nothing rang out, you turned your attention to the dishes, prepared to handle the minuscule mountain.

With your arms elbow deep in dishwater, you methodically worked, faintly aware of the other soul in your home. With half the pile done, you heard the soft clink of something hitting the ceramic of your bowl, and the soft slurping noises of a tongue.

Pride filled your chest and a smile overtook your face.

Calling out once more, you spoke. “Wow! I sure have a lot of leftovers. I can’t possibly eat this all or serve it tomorrow. I wonder if someone will eat it.”

When you finished, the same silence overtook the restaurant, and only moments later, the white bowl slid onto the counter, pushed by skinny, bony fingers. The inside was kicked clean, with no spot of broth or meat left.

Underneath the counter, you heard a voice, cracking softly.

“…more…” He, surprisingly, whispered. “..meat.”

You only smiled, taking the bowl and nodding.

“You got it, bud.”

[hashiruchan]

Peso pluma sketch (?)

Okay, I know this is very random, but I've been liking a lot of this guy's songs, omg I had to make him a fanart

I based it on how he looks in the song w kali uchis "Igual que un ángel"

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Primarchs in their childhood

There isn't much context, I imagined what my three favorite primarchs would look like as children Sanguinius, Corvus Corax n Konrad Curze :'3

Is it wrong for me to want to adopt them? Just look at Konrad! I think a good bath and a hug would do him good lol

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I love my emo husby sm

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More chibis of my golden pookie 💛🐁

Idk i love him sm ♡

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⋆˙⟡ — Midas rat 🐭 ⋆˙⟡ —

After months I drew another rat :') now I want to draw more styles Midas but in his rat version <3

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Konrad's sketches

I'm having a creative block (sorry) but I still wanted to draw Konrad <3 anime crush mode

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𝔚𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔑𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔤𝔦𝔠 𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔱

I made this edit for a walter bestie on tiktok and wanted to upload it here too :'3 it's so nostalgic

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Do yall ever just

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Konrad Curzecito

Another pookie <3 I'm a bit lost and I don't know which Primarch I'll draw next!