fangs-claws-paws

[fangs-claws-paws]

this has reduced me to tears

[fangs-claws-paws]

104th Battalion

[fangs-claws-paws]

+ Some misc doodles of them

[fangs-claws-paws]

good ending

[fangs-claws-paws]

useless ray of goddamn sunshine

[fangs-claws-paws]

don’t worry about it

[fangs-claws-paws]

betrayal

[fangs-claws-paws]

At least their breath smells good... 🔥

[fangs-claws-paws]

Take Responsibility

[fangs-claws-paws]

party time?🎂

[fangs-claws-paws]

Artwork I did for Withered by Bones and Grayera

[fangs-claws-paws]

at a certain level of fan popularity you realize that more fan content and world recognition means nothing because all the people who understand what the source material is actually about are like 36 people on tumblr.com posting aggressively about meta analysis and 1/3 of them hates another 1/3 and the final 1/3 disappeared off the face of the earth 8 years ago.

[fangs-claws-paws]

They fucked that old man to pieces

[fangs-claws-paws]

love my job, just really wish the moment I started night shift didn't decide to completely fall apart.

[fangs-claws-paws]

sorry i know this is extremely unrelated to my usual posts but all my friends lust after knights and i feel like a freak and outsider for not getting it.

[fangs-claws-paws]

True, prolly an extremely bad idea for him to engage in while serving his lord

An (In)Glorious Duty Part VII

Author's note: @fangs-claws-paws wrote this post and I just had the brain worms. Words written: 1,675, Total: 11,815/(goal) 50,000

Warnings: Dark Shit, or it will be. LMK If I need to add anything

Summary: Things continue to get worse for Petrico.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k,

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis, @undeaddream

Petrico is ordered by his Lord Orsais to inform him if he feels any changes during the pregnancy, even if it doesn't feel like much has changed. He bows his head and responds with, “Yes, Lord Orsais.”

He is glad when he gets to go back in the grav car and watches without seeing as the scenery blurs by. The scratching of the Lord’s quill on parchment is the only thing he hears besides breathing. 

That combination of noises and his discomfort Of being so close to Lord Orsais due to…that horrible incident that created the disgusting thing inside him is almost Intolerable. Astartes are trained and made to endure, to thrive in the harshest of conditions. 

He will endure, and do his duty for his chapter, as they… as they dictated them to the Lord Orsais that he has been given to. Once the grav-car stops Petrico waits for the Lord Orsais to leave the grav-car first and carefully steps out of the car, his belly jiggling unpleasantly as he grabs the grotesque distended end and moves carefully to make the weight slightly more bearable.

As he waddles after the Lord, and doesn’t like the way that everyone stares at him, their eyes like hot knives as they stare at him, at his belly.  Petrico has seen the way their hands twitch, but none dare to touch him without The Lord Hecktor Orsais express permission. He’s not sure if that is something that he’s grateful for or not.

As he slowly waddles his way through the palace, looking at various things, items and unlocked rooms, he blinks in surprise when he sees a rather plain, and unmarked looking door. 

Petrico looks around carefully, no one is around and he hesitantly tries to open the door, it swings open easily at his touch and he blinks in shock. It has little in the way of decorations, a sturdy, Uncomfortable cot and a desk and some unlit Candles. This reminds Petrico Of a room, or at least one very similar to the one he had back on the ship, before he had been sent here.

Petrico wonders why he was given a fancy suite of rooms that could be used by a visiting Noble and their retinue, if the Lord Orsais already had an Astartes style room. The words from that strangely ghost-like old Serf woman come back to him, about how the Lord Orsais had a previous Astarte in his household before him. 

He enters the room and looks around it, shutting the door and sitting on the cot. He traces his fingers along the edge Of the cot and frowns when he feels raised ridges and bumps on the underside of the cut.

With a silent groan he gets up and carefully lifts the cot and sees markings, made by Astartes hands in a language only Taught to Sons of Dorn, and not to outsiders and it reads:

Greetings brother or cousin,

My name is irrelevant, but my tasks To warn you is imperative. I know that you won't like what I have to say, or believe my words until it's far too late. We have been burdened with an inglorious duty that will cause you untold suffering. The Lord Hecktor Orsais and his duties for us is to carry children for his twisted designs. The galas of the nobles are to humiliate and cause the Astarte guard more suffering. Only in Death does duty End. And there are ways to ensure your Duty ends, and ensure that the bastard Lord cannot make you return.

There are more words to read but the old Serf woman knocks on the door and says, “Astarte, your watchers have noticed that you are missing from your usual wanderings, you need to head out- I can guide you in a way that the eyes can’t see you to the gardens you wander.”

He jumped a little as he sets the cot back down and follows the far too silent old serf woman who glides- almost floating and sometimes almost transparent as he follows her steps and into some of the extensive gardens that surround the estate. To his surprise, and delight, not all of the gardens were purely for ornamental reasons, and just for scrubbing the oxygen and having fragrance.

The extensive gardens also fed and supplied most of the vegetables, fruits, herbs and spices that the servants and guests ate- the honey and other sweeteners tended to by the bees that were kept. He had seen the bee boxes once had had asked what they were and had been told what it was for.

Hell, they supplied their own milk and meat, for the most part, tending to animals that were grown and raised for meat and other products, including a lot of the servants' clothing and what not were grown and tended to at the massive, extensive estate of The Lord Hecktor Orsais.

Petrico has more questions than answers at the moment- and as he sat down under the shade of the orchard of fruit trees- he closes his eyes and pretends for a moment he’s back somewhere else, where times were simpler and far less painful.

He opens his eyes as one of the Serfs- a sharp eyed middle aged human woman came over and nodded towards him, she has an empty basket in hand, “Lord Astarte- if you could -carefully- grab some of the fruit from the highest branches- I’ll point out which ones, that are ripe and help me fill this basket with fruit, I can vouch that you have been here this whole time.”

“...Very well,” Petrico says cautiously as he groans a little as he gets up to his feet and reaches easily to the higher parts of the fruit trees grabbing the fruits that the serf woman had said were properly ripe.

After helping to gather some of the fruits he follows after the woman, waddling a little as he holds the belly and thinks again as he feels a strange fluttering in his belly, ‘I don’t want this thing in me.’

The middle aged baseline human woman eyes his belly for a moment, “... It’s hard, carrying a baby. I had a few when I was younger.”

“... Oh?” Petric inquires uneasily.

“Mhm, all those who are fertile and don’t have undesirable mutational traits are required, by law on this planet, to have at least three children.” She says, her voice carefully neutral. “If one cannot find someone to tolerate to have children with. The local government assigns a partner for copulation and raising of children.”

“That is. Certainly an unusual law,” Petrico says carefully, uncertain as to what she wants him to say or not.

“... There are ways,” She says carefully as she carries the basket, “That… unwanted parasites can be removed discreetly. It’s not… of course those ways can be costly, and … potentially perilous. But can be … explored.”

Petrico eyes her, “I hear your words.”

The woman nods and says, “If you want that sort of help, Lord Angel, then for Carota Daucus.”

Petrico nods, so that she knows he heard her words as he continues to walk, having this thing inside of him, the way it has swelled and grown, he’s unable to wear his full armor any more and he feels very underdressed without it.

But he doesn’t know if she’s trying to trick or trap him, and thus is afraid of what the consequences are if he tries to ask for her help in such a manner. He also has a sinking sensation that if he does take up the offer and it’s genuine… should the lord find out that he got rid of the parasite within him then he’d get into a lot of trouble.

He follows after the woman, who takes him to where more serfs are and he slinks away from them, and to his rooms. Petrico groans softly, feeling a lot better now that he’s not on his feet. Part of him knows that he’s been ordered to tell his Lordship if he felt something shift or flutter in his stomach.

But he had been told that his Lordship was at a party, and he does not want to interrupt him during such an important social gathering with the likely not actual movement of the thing inside of him which he does not want in him.

He also has a nasty suspicion that he goes to the Lord Orsais right now with what he’d felt- the other would make a spectacle of it. Petrico swears he hears a voice- astarte deep warns him, “don’t do it little brother, he’ll have people come over and touch you to their heart’s delight, no matter how much you plead silently for them not to.”

Petrico shoots up from bed- well, up to a seated position as he looks around frantically- unaware that his dorn-blue eyes have a spark of warp-fire blue in them as he looks around and sees the ghostly outline of a fellow battle brother- before they flicker and fade away.

So Petrico- closes his eyes and meditates- hearing voices, is not a good sign, but he’d heard, the Apothecary speaking with the Lord Orsais about how pregnancy can cause all manner of behaviors and potential illnesses, which was in part why pregnancy is such a dangerous endeavor. 

He opens his eyes after a few hours of meditation- he’d managed to get through it- but the one thought that got stuck in his head over the, he checks the chronometer, several hours, ‘I don’t want this, I don’t want this parasite in me.’

He gets up and moves, some stretches as he groans a little and rubs his lower back as he slowly waddles his way out the rooms he had been given and heads to where Lord Orsais is. The Parties can last for hours- but from what he knows of the Lord’s schedules, this party had ended a while ago and most of the party-goers should have left already.

[fangs-claws-paws]

Space Marines very much the angels of the Imperial Creed (Angels of Death).

But they're not the sort that would say "Be not afraid" if you saw them.

Because if you saw them, you'd probably very likely have reason to be afraid since you're in a situation that needs a Space Marine present.