#astarte band

[heavymetalivneedle]

Witch playlist (metal, noise & experimental, etc)

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

There's More To Do

Author's note: More of Nanael in Husbandry.

Summary: So- how did Nanael go from being a tragic boy to Cedric's Body dumping buddy? Part 3

Warnings: Chaos Marines. And what they do to Loyalists. LMK if I need to add anything.

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

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

Tagged: @felinisnoctis, @undeaddream

Nanael is also, he realizes so very hungry, and thirsty. He staggers, weak at the knees and finds the river and collapses next to it and drinks the untreated water, it won't kill him, he thinks, and if it is bad, he will still get some nourishment while his Belcher's gland will deal with the bad stuff.

As he eagerly, greedily drank the water and washed the stench of the dead from his features and grieved the lost souls. Part of him wonders, how it's possible that he woke up from death.

Once- well, that had been explained the message from Father. But- that was just the first time, the next time there had been a dark nothingness, like he'd been asleep, and then had woken up.

He took in a couple of shake breaths. He needed to find shelter, he needed to find fellow astartes- at least ones that won't actively seek his death if possible. Nanael needs to avenge himself- and the fallen from that mad bastard of a Chaplain.

He hears the distinctive sound of ceramite on natural ground and his head snaps up and he flaps his wings to get air born, caution making him wait to see who or what it was that was coming in this direction.

His brightly colored armor makes hiding from others difficult. His hearts sink to his stomach as he hears strange- warbling voices and sees massive mutated forms of Chaos Marines, a full warband from the size of the group.

He's just a lone Scout- and he'd die, again, if he goes against them. One of the Chaos Marines heads suddenly snaps up and their horrific smile, merged with his armor as he calls out to his traitor brethren and points of Nanael.

'Well fuck.' Nanael thinks as he tries to decide his next move.

"Little bird, stuck in a tree?" One of the Chaos Marines taunt up to him.

"Begone, Chaos scum!" Nanael calls out voice strong.

"Hah- there are more of us than there are of you, Imperial Dog," One of the other Chaos Marines scoff.

Nanael's hands clench into fists as he tries to decide his next course of action. He sees a burst of glowing energy. Psyker fuck. And tries to dodge the attack, but the psyker controls the energy blast and it hits him and drags him out of the sky.

He fights and struggles- trying to escape the grasp of the telepathic hold and the Chaos Marines as they descend on him. Grabbing his arms and legs as the leader of the Chaos Warband barks something and his helmet gets ripped off and some one else knocks him out with a large needle. The liquid burns like fire and freezes him to his core.

...

Nanael wakes up... an indeterminate amount of time later, his head sore, as are his limbs. His mouth is dry and tastes terrible. He tries to move and hits something metallic with a hand. His eyes open fully, and he realizes that he was stripped of armor and weapons.

"The birdie is awake~" one of the Chaos Marines croon out at Nanael, and a couple more of the Chaos Traitors come over to gawk at him.

Nanael glares up at them, a low growl in his throat as his hands clench into fists.

"I wonder if we can get the birdie to sing," Elona says with a smirk as he crouches near the Son of Sanguinius. His eyes looking over the younger marine.

He looks strong- and large. Well muscled and with the Wing Mutation, that is rare among the Gene-Seed Line of the Ninth. He sees the red in the brown eyes of the Space Marine, he knows from experience that the more red his eyes, the more temperamental and prone to stabbing and bloody violence he's going to be.

"I won't sing for you," Nanael says scowling at the lot of them.

"Not now, but you will," Skaevadror says, a look of dark promise in his eyes that made Nanael uneasy.

"Despite his growls," Horandast says, ignoring his words, cocking his head to the side, "He has a melodious voice. Good- hearing him scream will be fun~!"

"Now, now," Verzos says, "we should ask him if he'll join our war band first, before having fun with him."

"NEVER!" Nanael says defiantly.

"Oh good, I'm glad you said that," Toradreel says, "That means we get to convince you."

"Torture me all you like," Nanael says, "I won't bend or break for the likes of you."

"Bold words," Maraddreel says, a bored drawl in his voice, "You aren't the first we've caught, and you won't be the last."

Uvrox seems to be vibrating in glee as he sees the young Son of the Ninth- it had been a while since their Warband had found another Astartes.

He was the youngest, and newest member of the warband, and often got the shit jobs and worst brunt of the older, more powerful and higher in the hierarchy brothers and cousins of the War band.

But with the Loyalist, so long as he doesn't go too far- he can vent his frustrations on another, without getting the shit beat out of him by another one of the war band, all of them more high ranking than him.

Well, except for their new loyalist toy- who will fall or die. Or be traded away for something from one of the more established warbands. Which ever happened first.

Nanael meditates as best he can- all he can do is wait, bide his time to escape. Over the next few days, he notices they neither give him food, nor give him water.

He wouldn't accept such, likely poisoned or drugged offerings, but the fact that they make sure to eat and drink in front of him, while he receives nothing doesn't surprise him.

Uvrox comes over to him, a tray of food in hand and the- from what he can tell youngest, and weakest of the War band smirks down at him and starts to eat.

"I'm so glad that you are with us," Uvrox says while he eats. "I get double the rations."

Some how, Nanael isn't surprised that The War band had wanted to feed him, but one of their members, instead of offering the food to him, was eating it instead. Greedy bastards, Chaos.

Nanael doesn't look at him, doesn't respond. Just silence as he continues to meditate and try to plan his escape. Uvrox scowls, enraged that the pretty Imperial dog wasn't deigning to give him attention.

He growls and grabs his spiked mace and smacks the top of the cage, "Look at me when I talk to you Imperialist Dog!"

Nanael deliberately turns away from the Chaos Marine, making sure to seem as if he was ignoring him as much as possible. Meanwhile he was very aware of the other's presence.

"What are you doing?" One of the others barks out at Uvrox, "Feed the imperial- we are going to start working on him in a couple of days. The wait helps soften them up. Brat!"

That other brother smacks the back of his head. Uvrox whines at Skaevadror, "but sir- he's ignoring me!"

"Of course he is, you're a snot nosed, sniveling wretch." Skaevadror says smacking the other Chaos Marine again for good measure, "And stop eating the Loyalists food. We need him fed enough to know what's going on. Idiot."

"... Yes sir," Uvrox grumbles as he tosses the food into Nanael's cage.

Nanael doesn't react to it, other than catching the food and carefully sniffing it and glaring at the pair of Chaos Marines. As the Chaos Marine had been eating little bites out of it.

He at most of it- his mouth avoiding the parts touched by the disgusting Chaos Bastard's mouth. He tosses those bits out of the cage, and smirks when it hits one of their legs and they growl at him about it.

Horandast comes over and uses the mace to smack him for his cheek for daring to stain his armor with food. Nanael dodges the blow as best he can in the cage and spits out curses.

Part of him thinks about spitting acid at the bastard, his mouth watering with saliva- but no, he needs to bide his time. Nanael has been trying to keep track of time.

Half asleep, half awake, not wanting to fully sleep, not surrounded by Chaos scum, but also knowing that he needs to have some sleep in order to have a stronger mind against whatever horrors and tortures they are going to inflict on him.

Nanael's eyes snap open, when his Cage his jostled and he glares at some of his Chaos kidnappers. One of the mutated chaos worshippers marines, he has armor of an Apothecary comes over and uses a big ass needle, which he injects Nanael with.

He had of course tried to avoid the needle, but there was precious little he could do in the almost too small cage that they had stuck him in. He growls at the sting of the pain and the way the horrible chaos liquid burned and froze him.

"With that," Verzos informs the Imperial dog he'd injected, "you'll feel more acutely what it is that our Torture expert does to you. I will enjoy hearing you sing agony to the camp."

Nanael does not like the sound of that his cage is lifted and put on display in the middle of camp. Most of the Chaos marines are walking about - doing normal things one would do around an encampment.

He spots- to his surprise, some poor, hapless baseline humans, possessively tucked next to a Chaos Marine. Always within arms reach of the bastard that had stolen them from... somewhere.

One of the younger ones looked over at him, their eyes wide, "A-angel." They squeak out in lisping high Gothic.

"He looks like one, doesn't he," The Chaos Marine croons at the child, oddly gentle as he scoops up the baseline child. "Come - lets go pick some berries outside of camp."

"aww... Okay big brother." The child pouts. "Why is he in a cage?"

"Well- he's doesn't know the rules yet," The Chaos Marine explains, "so he has to stay there, until he learns to behave."

Nanael growls at that, his eyes flashing, how dare the Chaos bastard have a child in their grasp. Before he could do more -one of the other Chaos Marines approaches his cage and his focus shifts on the threat that is closer to him.

The rest of the warband members- of which there were three others who had baseline humans, had each come up with a different excuse as they took them out of camp.

"Are you going to make a spectacle of this?" Nanael calls out boredly.

"Indeed," Toradreel says, "We don't get much entertainment, so breaking in a Loyalist will be great fun."

"I won't break," Nanael says defiantly.

"They all say that," Toradreel says with a laugh as he shakes his head, as he pats the arm of a silver haired, dark brown eyed and skinned chaos marine next to him, "Remember when you said that?"

"... I do, sir." The Chaos Marine said looking a little pale under his dark skin and the way he shied from the master torturer's touch.

"Hm," Toradreel says as he focuses on his implements that he'd use on the young blood angel.

While going after his wings is tempting- they will need to be usable by the time he falls to Chaos. He grabs a long thin knife and turns towards Nanael with a faux-pleasant smile on his face, as cruelty glitters in his eyes.

"I am an excellent teacher, of pain, of pleasure, and of getting loyalist to fall and swear to Chaos," Toradreel says, almost like he's speaking to a child.

Nanael feels a pit in his stomach form and he starts to murmur the litanies of hate and protection. Toradreel approaches with a glinting knife by the fire and starts to use his new canvas.

[blackmetaltv]

ASTARTE, Greek Black/Death metal band, are set to release their highly anticipated new EP soon. This release marks the return of the first female Black Metal band in many years.

This EP features a new song titled "THE CROSS," which includes a collaboration with Krister "Morfeus" Dreyer from Limbonic Art.

Additionally, the album will include a cover of the extreme metal legends Celtic Frost's track "THE SORROWS OF THE MOON," featuring NICOLAS MAIIS of Lloth.

Fans of Astarte can anticipate a powerful and ominous musical journey, similar to the band's previous work.

[kit-williams]

Momrad has been busy

It's more so... I've been going to bed early with the boy so fics I mean to comment on doesn't happen

So once more I ask (I will go through the comments left on 'Home is where the heart is... so where is my heart?' cuz you know I love to comment on fics.) If there is a fic you want me to make a comment on that you have tagged PLEASE feel free to contact me/get momrad to look again.

[candyswirls]

Space Marine Cuddle Pile PT 2

Continuation of this.

@wolf-feathers12 you owe me fifty cookies and I’m gluten free

Imagine:

Titus is not quite new anymore to the watch. He’s slowly opening up to his squad mates but still is apprehensive. The mission has been a success and his squad wants to celebrate. They worked well together. But Titus does not wish to participate. He is bitter and mournful. News that the Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, had returned came through a few days ago. He was overjoyed at hearing that. But he doesn’t get to celebrate. Not when he’s dishonored his chapter. Not when he’s a black shield. Not when he can’t celebrate with his brothers. Before he can go to the training cages, a squad mate pulls him back, not taking no for an answer. He may have not told them his chapter and was using another name but they can tell how hard the last few days have been. Rather than celebrating they all huddle together, one with another. They miss each of their chapters and brothers. But they can find comfort in one another. It’s a moment of reprieve for the ex-captain’s broken heart.

As an Emperors’ children you are far more prone to cuddling than one might think. You were always underestimated. Many scoffed at your legion and chalked you up to pompous and egotistical men. Some of that was true but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Even more hurtful was the rejection of your Primarch. He didn’t want you or your brothers. He would not lead. You all were so desperate that some followed his clone when he showed up. You’re all scattered and trying what you can to make Fulgrim proud and have him return. Sometimes the rejection hurts so much you’ll curl up together in a pile. Pretending the weight is your Primarch, welcoming you back and saying that you’ve done well. That you’re worthy of his love. Those who are a part of war bands tend to be flock to bigger Astartes. Craving large and warm arms to wrap around you and say it’s okay. You’re not useless or worthless. You’re not an object or disposable.

Little known fact about Iron Warriors. You will cuddle anyone but your own legion. You’re so touch starved and refuse to ask for it due to how the chapter is. Cuddling your brothers? Revolting. Your Primarch won’t do it. Cold and refusing to show any weakness. But the minute any other traitor Astartes wants to start a pile or even a daemon or cultist request a hug, you’re there. You will not say anything and you’re definitely not saying no. You will just join in. If you see a cuddle pile you won’t ask, you’re suddenly in the middle. Emperor’s Children tend to like Iron Warrior’s for this reason. Might as well write “Free Hugs” on the back of their armor.

Newly joined Blood Angels feeling the psychic wound of their genefathers death. The looming of the red thirst and the chance of falling to the black rage. Their new brothers hold them in a large mass. Safe and warm to let them know that they’re not alone. They all feel the pain. They all mourn their father and fallen brethren. They all share it. So they share their hugs and affection.

Black Templars having massive sermons where the chaplain gets emotional and they all hold one another as they recite prayers. Hold each other up. Being strong like Dorn. Their Primarch isn’t here but they are here for each other.

Night Lords will cram themselves into dark and tight places to hide, entangled in each other’s arms. Their Primarch was mad and didn’t care for them. They have to care for each other. Everything they do is vile and violent. Except for this. Ever so gentle touches, protective embraces, the most tender of running hands through hair, gentle head butting. They are one of the most affectionate legions but only with each other. Silent as they relish in each other’s deep rooted sadness and hatred for themselves and solace of being with one another.

Lorgar finally has a moment of silence as the word bearers are escorted away from Monarchia by the Ultramarines. The emperor’s wrath had been fierce. He ends up dropping to his knees and pulling his closest son into an embrace. The others around him move forward without thinking. He pulls so many into his arms, has them laying their heads on his shoulders and back. Pressing their cheeks and foreheads to his own as he cries prayers he wrote. They were innocent! Loyal to him! He had done this for him! All that work! It was a gift! A tribute! He just burned it away! Killed them all. Rejected it. He’s in so much pain and anger but having his sons close eases it a bit.

Magnus clings to his sons. They don’t react as dust swirls within the armor. Foolish stupid Ahriman. He had managed to save the remaining few and bring them into the warp. Relieved that they all weren’t dead. This seemed worse though. He presses a kiss to the top of one’s helmet, praying that there’s some bit of conscious in there. Those that were unaffected are huddled behind him as his new wings caress them.

He wasn’t very affectionate. Mortarion had grown up shying away from it and he rarely indulged in cuddle piles. But after so many had died from horrid plagues and sicknesses, he had to pledge himself to Nurgle. It didn’t matter though. His sons were saved and himself. He had sat himself on the ground and big then to come forth. Some were nuzzled into his side, a few rested their heads on his torso. He was surrounded by his sons. Safe. He didn’t care what it had taken or what would happen next.

[ezri-is-real]

Getting into the Traitor Forces!

Nothing like a good bit of heresy 😌

These are part of the 42nd Company of the former 8th legion, now calling themselves Children of Sevatar. They‘ve allied themselves with a war band of the Iron Warriors, fighting together in the long war.

Ive decided to keep them mostly taint free, as I much prefer the visuals of just Heretics, not Chaos Marines.

They also indeed use female Astartes due to demand of keeping their company at strength. However, while they managed to make the geneseed work for non-males, it is more brittle in those individuals, having similar side effects to the Thunderwarriors of old with more degradation and unchecked aggression when compared to your classic Astartes.

[lemon-russ]

I made a new blog just to get the worms out of my head put in there by everyone writing bully Cato Sicarius fics. Heavily infected/ inspired by the diplomat/ Cato stuff, I needed to make my own tropey garbage fic.

I blame all of you WH40k smut writers for this. I love you all and you've made me very ill over these murder machines. I must put them in situations.

Part 1/ ???

part:: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

CW: Violence, blood, I mean it's warhammer I think you get what you pay for there, no sex yet but there will be later, Cato being a bully (mildly honestly)

Summary: Cato is forced to accompany Guilliman's ambassador to a meeting. Things go sideways.

word count: 1,896

Cato walked next to the little diplomat. He hated this. Hated that he was assigned to look after- to babysit- this pompous noble woman.

This whole thing was a waste of his time. He just got back from a mission quelling some rebellion on a random planet in the backwaters of the galaxy. He was already annoyed at how quickly the rebellion was quashed, they did not need to send him, the Knight Champion of Macragg, any random band of Astartes would have handled it.

Then he got home, already in a sour mood, and Guilliman told him maybe he needed a break- a break- and assigned him to escort his little diplomat pet to her next meeting off world. No amount of argument changed his genefather's mind, and he was ordered to “Quit whining and get out of his hair for a moment”.

He didn't want to push his already stressed Primarch further and resigned himself to his fate, three days wasted babysitting this stupid, base human woman. He couldn't stand her, the way she bat her eyes to get people to sway to her opinions, the lavish gowns she insisted on wearing to each meeting, the droning on and on for hours about nothing every time she met with an ambassador she knew. how are the kids, that dress is flattering, I heard your planet had a celebration- it was driving him mad.

Cato watched her walk all prim and proper in a ridiculous trailing gown. A tripping hazard, more like. He smirked a bit as he got an idea, and casually placed his next step on the tail of her dress.

With a small yelp, she fell over, her ridiculous heels not affording her the balance to recover from a sharp snag on her gown. She spilled her papers on the floor and landed in them face first. She looked ridiculous, and he smiled for the first time in weeks. He even let out a chuckle. “Oh my. Careful, Ambassador. That dress is not great for the uncoordinated.” He said with an edge of mocking, playing coy.

She huffed, frowning like an angry little cat as she scrambled to her knees, scooping up her paperwork. “I think I'd be a lot less accident prone if I wasn't being followed by a seven foot tall hazard.” she snapped, scrambling up to her feet and trying to fix her dress.

Cato tried to school his face to not grin at her reaction. “I have no idea what you mean, Ambassador. I simply was following you as always.” he said casually, following again as she stomped back down the corridor.

She was being sent to broker the handover of a planet, giving them a chance to willingly join the glory of the Imperium before they would be recruited by force. They walked down the flagstone halls of an over-pompous but still somehow rundown manor where the leader of this human group insisted on meeting.

He scoffed- a planet who's only excess was stones and sand. Their was nothing they could broker worthwhile, this whole meeting was merely a shakedown to save human lives. Yet the leader of this rock acted like he was doing them a favor by even meeting with them. The arrogance of it all made Cato's anger rise again. He considered tripping the ambassador again to blow off steam, but held off. If he did it too often, the fun would wear out.

She kicked her heels off the flagstone as she agitatedly continued down the corridor to the large double doors to the leaders war room. They were of course, impractically, also made of stone, and requires a turning mechanism to slowly open.

The leader stood at a war table, looking smug and watching them as the doors were slowly opened. They stepped in and Cato was on guard immediately as they started closing the doors behind them. He could push the doors open himself, but it would slow him down if they needed to escape.

The diplomat greeted the Leader, who introduced himself as something Rolfar- he wasn't paying attention, instead still scoping the room. there were small windows in the stone maybe 20 feet up, the stone doors behind them, and then... no other exits. He scowled to himself and stood at attention behind the ambassador, hand itching for his bolter. They'd inadvertently walked into a kill box, if thing went sideways.

The ambassador noticed his distraction and raised a brow, but was pulled back to the discussion. Uhg, more drivel. How are your seasons here? your manor is very impressive, how's your family. He started tuning out again at the mindless small talk. Why can't she ever just get the to the point? Give us your planet or die, boom, done. He should be the ambassador, really.

He snapped out of his inner monologue when he noticed some of the guards around the room exchanging glances. His mouth twitched a frown and his hand slowly came to rest on the hilt of his power sword, the Talassarian.

The ambassador was oblivious as always, laying out papers on the table and talking cheerily to the leader, pointing out resources they would gain access to as part of the Imperium, of course sprinkling in things like how they'll be converting to the Imperial cult in a matter of fact way. The man glanced at a guard near him, giving a slight nod.

That's it, this is all too suspicious now. Cato walked over and put a large hand on the diplomat's shoulder. “Ambassador, could I share a word with you in the hallway-” he started in a low voice, but was interrupted when he saw the soldiers around the room reach for their weapons.

His senses honed. He could think faster, react quicker than baseline humans like these. They hardly twitched toward their rudimentary weapons before he had the diplomat on the floor, bolter out and taking out the first soldier to actually draw his weapon.

Chaos broke out, figuratively of course, and he was forced to actually do his job and protect the stupid woman. It would be fun honestly, tearing through the rebels in a closed death cage, if he wasn't forced to shield the emperor-damned woman beneath him. She was still confused and processing what happening- by the throne she was slow- while he took out a few more of the guards. But for every one he shot, another took a shot at her from the other side, forcing him to move to cover her with his power armor.

He scowled to himself. having to protect her slowed him down enough that they got a foothold, surrounding them, weapons trained on her as they knew they wouldn't touch him. She of course was useless, cowering pathetically against his kneeling body for protection.

well fuck. His hands were tied. That didn't usually happen. “Hands up or we kill the woman!” the soldiers demanded. He let out a sigh and holstered his bolter, hands up. He probably could tear his way out of here, but he wasn't confident he could do it without the ambassador getting shot. stupid woman, some sort of flack armor would be more practical than this stupid flowy dress, and she could at least wear a helmet-

His inner rambling was interrupted by the leader- Randolf? Rolf? -speaking at them smugly. “You thought I would simply roll over and let you interlopers take my world? Your arrogance is astounding” He chuckled with a sneer. Cato considered shooting him, but knew the diplomat woman would be shot for it. He still considered it. No. Lord Guilliman would be mad if he let her die. Uhg, she's ruining everything.

The leader had the ambassador woman taken away first, cuffed and blindfolded. She struggled against them, for a small amount of her credit, but a swift kick from a solider put a stop to it. Cato grimaced. He almost felt bad seeing someone else be mean to her. Probably just because his duty is to stop that though.

“Try that again and I'll turn this room into a red mist.” Cato warned with a glower at the soldier. Guilliman would be more upset if she came back battered, and he'd rather not be punished to anymore menial work. The man who kicked her shivered under his look, and took a step back.

The leader frowned in annoyance at him. “Please, you are in no position to give demands.” He mocked, then walked over and gave the diplomat a firm kick in the ribs, making her yelp and fall over. Before he realized he was moving, he had the man by the collar, and the sound of two dozen weapons readying echoed off the stone walls. The man looked shocked, then terrified, but stuttered out anyway, “Unhand me or the girl turns into a colander.” His voice shook, but the sound of warming up weapons made Cato grit his teeth and lower the man.

as soon as his feet touched stone he scampered away like a cowardly mouse, cowering across the room. “Take her, and keep your weapons on her. I swear if you make one move we'll end her!” He stammered. His soldiers started dragging her out of the room and Cato grit his teeth harder. Fuck. If he'd ignored that, they'd probably have let them leave together, and he could have gotten them out when the doors opened like he planned. Why did he grab that man? Fuck.

He scowled, watching them drag her out the doors, mind scrambling for a new plan. He scoped the room for communication devices. The soldiers carried some, but the room itself had nothing. Okay, he can salvage this, take them out before the vox to their friends, kick down the door, find the girl, get back to the thunderhawk. He can work with that. Thankfully these people were as stupid as they were arrogant, and lacked most advanced defenses and weapons that the Imperium had.

He waited a bit after they took her away, letting them put him in cuffs- wow they really were stupid to think this would hold him- and letting them take his bolter and the Talassarian and put them across the room. He counted in his head as the Leader droned on and on about how his world would not bow to tyrants, same old nonsense everyone spouted when they resisted the Emperor's light. When he was pretty sure the others were out of earshot- he heard them walk away pretty far, baseline humans wouldn't hear the screams- he stood, making the soldiers ready their weapons.

“What are you doing? Sit back down!” The leader demanded, stepping back defensively. Cato snapped the cuffs and smiled. Finally, he could teach these fools the glory of the Emperor's Imperium.

A few minutes later, Cato forced the stone doors open, re-affixing his blood soaked power sword to his hip and adjusting his helmet, flicking his hands and splashing the blood off his gauntlets. Now to just find the stupid woman and hope they didn't already execute her. His genefather would be pissed if she died. And he wouldn't admit it, but the thought gave him an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of his stomach. Probably just dedication to even the most menial duties like this, he decided. Definitely just that.

[darkopsiian]

Do you like warhammer 40k?

yes. look at my OC's. tw // mentions of body horror and abuse //

i should probably mention as well; i've roleplayed all these characters lol.

This is Nockzius she's my tech priest oc who's a 20 year old biologis prodigy who has worked on Astartes, Xenos, and reversed dissected several daemons. She's a diagnosed psychopath but currently in an emotional down-spiral, because she found out that since she's a blank the Omnissiah cannot hear her. She's been beaten, betrayed, backstabbed and manipulated so many times. So because of this and several other instances of parental neglect from her father, she's completely engulfed in her own hatred and ravenous anger. Nockzius has gotten so close to insanity many times and I'm not surprised she hasn't completely lost it yet due to all the stress that she has to put up with.

This is Heilgard, she is my sister of silence. She was a training SoS during the Remembrancer program back in the 29th Millennium. During the program they had been attacked by a creature later discovered to be a slaugth, towards the very end of the campaign she had sacrificed her own life to fight and later spiritually consume the minor deity. Later on rejected taking the oath of silence as upon discovering the origins of the Slaugth she had assisted in forming a group of members who's sole purpose was to study the Warp. They are an outcasted group and would be considered heretics by law. Her blank radius is so powerful that she purposefully isolates herself in attempts to protect others from getting their soul annihilated just by being around her. Cats however are safe, and thus she surrounds herself with many of them. She is also my only character who canonically has autism.

This is the P.A., or the Pantheon as it calls itself. The Pantheon was a Super AI that used to operate an entire forge of a planet that made and sold thermo-weapons to nearby Noble Houses. But the planet later collapsed and became swarmed with techno barbarians, xenos, and rabid AI drones. The P.A. became dislodged from it's mainframe and had integrated itself into one of its many worker drones. This worker drone, carrying the consciousness of the Pantheon, had found and integrated itself into the body of a traveling noble named Alicia. The P.A. now wearing the flesh body of Alicia travels with a band of techno barbarians and attempting to sway them into getting her old body back. Alicia's body has long expired but her soul hasn't departed, so it's not uncommon for the voice box to occasionally malfunction and start talking like a human.

This is Oylmortiz my Mephirit Deathmark. Oyl had a severe irreversible malfunction during her transfusion, so regardless of how many times she dies and comes back, she can never speak. Her voice is permanently broken and she communicates primary through static chatter or beeping. Thankfully due to her job exclusively being a hitman, talking isn't that important. Her personal deathmark brothers have gotten very used to this and are able to understand her just fine. She is very loyal to her house and just wants to do her job. Despite all this she has the highest charisma stat out of all of my characters, I don't know how this happened. But the mute necron deathmark has the highest fellowship and it's the best ongoing joke I've had.

This is Hollowtye he's a BITCH. This mother fucking lord of CRINGE has decided halloween is his birthday and now it just IS. He's a greater daemon of hysteria and feeds off wide-spread chaos, which is why he enjoys halloween so much. But he's a fucking IDIOT. He has the highest intelligence score sure but that doesn't mean ANYTHING, HE'S A FUCKING IDIOT LMAO. He is NEVER invited to any Tzeentchian parties because they all despise him. He's a clown who fucks up the smallest plan yet somehow still comes out the winner, which is why tzeentch loves him so much but why everyone else hates him.

T̷͙̳͛͜h̷̠͂̊̚͜ǐ̸̥̬̼̫̿̓s̷͉̙̱̣̓̌̎ ̷̢͔͙̘͔̅̔͑̐ǐ̶͍͎̓s̷̗̐ ̶̺̥̊R̸̲̀̄̂͗̆͜ĕ̴͚́h̷̦̺̼̙̜́v̸̖̠͙̇͊̊̚ë̸̢̞̱̟̠́̅̒͐̅n̶͕͔̗͚͋͂̽i̸̝̰̝̇̓̓̈͜r̶̘̽̊̾̓́ ̸̳̹̪̽͘T̵͕̻̘͇̦́͂̑͝͝ȟ̴̝͍̙̬̭͘i̸̥͎̫̖͗̅͘s̸͍̻̙̯̺̃̐̇̀̾ ̶̮̺̤̻̖͛͌i̸̩͝s̵̺̀̉͜ ̷̨̹͇͆̃́͘̕W̸͚͉̬̱͋̅͊̍̂h̷͕̓̀i̵̬̩͍͛̔̚t̶̻̂̅͛̊e̴͈̳̿̕̕͠b̷͕͛̅a̴̦̜͐͒͋͘͘ȑ̸̰̱̜̜̪͒͋̑k̴̛̟̓̃͒͝ ̵̧̙̪̲̣̐͛͋͘T̶̪̳̟̎͐͜h̸̡̝̺̰̖͗̈́̑́i̷̠̯̱͓͊̋́̓̒s̵̰͈̃͌ ̵̧̈́͊͆͝į̷̟̺͇̘̀̿̆̈́͛s̵̻͛͒͛̆ ̴̧͍̰̃̆̍͘ͅT̸̞͈̪͇̓͜͝h̸̩͔̗̖͕͐̓͑͊ė̵̞̗͙͊́͝ ̷͖̤̎͜Ŗ̸̹͔̝̘̓ì̸̜͍̿ͅv̵̧̞͚̉͌e̶̝͆̐͂̑r̴̘͇̬̭͐̐̋m̴͈̜̮̅ā̷̩̖̺͝n̴͙͓̈́͂ ̵̪̍͜T̸̛̜̹̲̬̋͆̓̅h̷̹̔͌̕͜i̸̹̚s̴̺̼̰͠ ̵̢̥̠͉̖̏̾̓i̵̛̬̱̱͉̘̋s̷̯̟̙̋̈́͜ ̴̛͎͙̈̆T̶̘̮̹̦̹̓̈́h̸̩̭͇͚̑̂e̸̝͉̠̝̓ ̴̝̅͒̔̆B̵̮̼͚̉̐̄́é̷̡̨̤̩̃͗͆ã̶͇͍̈͘s̸̘͗̿ͅt̸̙̺͌͐̐̂̌ ̷̫̺͆͆̈͐́o̵̜̝̠̅f̵̢̧̠̲͉̀̇̈́̈̋ ̶̯̒́̏̈́͝ͅM̸͈̘͔̖̗̆̀̕ḛ̶͔͓̩͑̀r̸͚̈́̂̈́̄͜ć̶̠͙̜̿́͆̇ũ̴̜͇̌r̶̡̖̹̓̍̌̊y̶̼̖͝͝ ̸̡͍̤̐̚͘ṫ̷̛̟̭̘̄̽̈h̵͕͔͛̎e̵̗̤̗̍ͅ ̴̬̳̗̫͍̑v̴̡̯̘̝̫͊͋̾o̷͔͍̩͓͋̐͠i̶̪̤̕c̶͎̹͔̯̚e̶̠͖̅̄̕ş̷̔ ̷̫͑́̅̐͘t̴͚̯̍̋͗̍̉h̵̗̗̗͉̍͜e̶̛͕̩̱̎̈́̒̚y̸̥̹̳͆ ̶͚͂̀̈̒ẅ̵̪̗́̀̓̔̈́o̵̳͈̫͊́̓̄̚n̴̝̻͇̑̄͂͝͠'̸̧̾͋̆ț̸̈̓̓͘̕ ̷̛̫̬̃͘š̵̭̽̑t̵͎̻͙͙͉̅́̈́͐͝ŏ̷̜̎̚p̸̝̰̿̃̆͐̀

[syncopein3d]

Always remember that whether Firstborn or Primaris, space marines are more social than humans and they should NEVER be kept in groups of less than two. If you can't afford at least two Astartes, you simply cannot afford to keep Astartes at all.

I know everyone knows someone who knows someone who claims they have a Cypher or a Sevatar, but almost all of them are lying. "Lone wolf" marines are not healthy or happy marines and are not safe for you, either. They're essentially feral.

In general, Astartes thrive best in groups of five to ten. Imperial chapters may do better in larger groups, especially Black Templars, but be careful; you can accidentally start a migratory Crusade, and that's just a mess.

Chaos Astartes are more territorial and competitive and most prefer to form small, close units called "warbands." If you want to build a more organized and independent warband you can watch and enjoy as it grows, you may want to start setting up your feeder tribute colony before you get your first Iron Warriors or Black Legionnaires.

Do NOT introduce daemon engines yourself! A healthy warband will start weaponizing the Warp on a production scale when and if they are ready. I know it's tempting to rush things, but a warband has to be big enough and well-fed enough to support these bigger and more difficult units before Neverborn are introduced.

World Eaters are suitable as working Astartes only, not as pets! It's better, as a new keeper, to start out with a small band of Emperor's Children or Thousand Sons, which are pretty and more comfortable in tac squad-sized groups. Deathguard can be very rewarding and fun to watch, but they have special needs and require a lot of social enrichment, and that takes special equipment and procedures, too.

Word Bearers are the only exception to the "never start out with daemons" rule, but due to their more unique needs, are only recommended for expert keepers. Not just any kind of tattoo ink and candles will do!

[frost-fells-ramblings]

Little One

I’ve been writing another Warhammer fic separate to this for a while now, but that one is much longer, and I often find myself hit with writer’s block when I work on it. I figured switching to Husbandry whenever that happened could help me, and unsurprisingly, I finished this fic before my other one. XD

Anyways, I’ve been cooking up these characters for a while now, so please enjoy my bundles of joy and their emotionally conflicted guard dad.

Next

TW: Just an itsy bitsy bit of blood and parental inattentiveness

BOLD = Gothic

BOLD ITALISCISED = Baalfloran

Summary: After spending nearly 50 years on Ancient Terra, Ephrael finally meets his bonded.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ •••• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“Is something wrong, captain?”

The sweet smell of iron drifts along with the breeze, a scent which Ephrael is intimately familiar with. It’s a small amount, almost unnoticeable; even to him. Still, it immediately makes him scan the park he is currently standing in with his brothers. The rest of his small band of Blood Angels stare at him with slight concern; their captain isn’t normally so unresponsive.

“Ephrael?”

Temporarily snapped out of his trance, Captain Ephrael turns back to his battle-brother. Raphine’s head is tilted curiously at him at first, but then the wind shifts ever so slightly, and his eyes suddenly fill with understanding, “Oh. Trouble?”

“No,” Ephrael grunts, staring across the open green of the park. His eyes catch a small figure holding their knee close on the playground structure ahead; right where the iron scent is coming from. Children bump and scrape themselves at this park all the time, and normally it is no cause for concern. Yet, part of him feels compelled to check on the little girl in the distance; even as her friend jumps down from the structure to check on her. He catches the faintest sound of a small sniffle coming from the hurt one, and his hearts suddenly leap with worry.

“I’ll be right back.”

He barely registers Raphine’s confused sound of confirmation as his feet swiftly carry him across the lawn, led on by a tugging force in his chest. The sensation quickly blooms into a gnawing anxiety; a need to see the small, fragile being in front of him soothed. Within moments, he goes from crossing grass, to woodchips, to looming over the two small girls before him. The pair stare up at him wide-eyed, unsure of the strange Astartes who has approached them.

His body continues to compel him, his hearts and mind scream to sooth and mend the one hugging her leg. Ephrael drops down onto one knee, his face tightly knit with concern as he stares at the wound marring her deep-tanned skin.

“Are you alright, little one?”

The hurt one stares at him and shrinks into herself slightly, hiding within her long black locks. Instead, her friend answers him, pointing at the playground structure, “She slipped and fell off the stairs!”

Ephrael regards her passingly, but can tell she is as equally as worried for her friend as he is. He nods at her, “What are your names?”

“My name is Jade,” the friend answers quickly, “and she’s Kaia.”

He hums in acknowledgement, then looks back to Kaia, “Where are your parents, Kaia?”

Kaia’s dark brown eyes slowly shift across the playground to a bench at its edge. Sitting there, Ephrael sees an older woman with a laptop on her lap. She’s quickly typing away while she squishes a phone up to her ear with her shoulder, chattering intently with someone on the other end. His eyes narrow disapprovingly, annoyance bubbling up within him.

“What about you parents, Jade?”

Jade is between rocking back and forth on her heels, and nervously pulling at the ends on her dirty blonde hair. “My parents aren’t here. They’re at home.” She leans down and starts rubbing Kaia’s back, whispering to her words of comfort.

Above them, Ephrael fights the fierce scowl threatening to settle on his face. Part of him contemplates marching over to the mother on the bench, and gently imploring her to pay attention to the children she should be watching; but his other half is still gripped by an intense concern for Kaia.

“Jade.”

Jade’s green eyes snap up to his blue ones, “Yes?”

He points to the water fountain nearby, spying a dog bowl faucet on its lower half. “Take Kaia to the water fountain and help her wash off her knee. I will go get her a band aid.”

“Okay!” Jade helps Kaia up and leads her to the fountain, while Ephrael makes his way back to his brothers.

“Welcome back, captain.” Raphine smiles at him, “What was that about?”

Ephrael glances at the scout for a moment, but his gaze quickly shifts to the apothecary next to him, “Incaro, I know you keep band aids in your pack for baselines. May I have one?”

While Incaro digs away at the pouch on his side, the fourth member of his little band, Sevram, perks up at his question, “Who’s it for?”

“A little girl fell and scraped her knee,” Ephrael grunts in reply, taking the band aid from Incaro.

As Incaro hands it off, he smiles slightly at him, “I’ve never seen you so eager to help a baseline before, captain.”

Ephrael squints at him as he turns away, letting out a deep grumble of warning at all of them. He quickly makes his way back over to the girls, finding Jade drying Kaia’s knee off with her shirt. He notes, with a grimace, that he’ll have to teach them how to properly treat their wounds when if he sees them again.

“Kaia, I have a band aid for you.” The girls look up at him, spying the band aid held between his fingers. Ephrael attempts to unwrap the paper wrapper, but the ceramite gauntlets of his armor makes the task difficult. He can’t separate the peel folds at all, with either end flicking back into place before he can grab hold of it. As a he fumbles and struggles with the wrapper, he can hear the girl’s growing amusement at his continuous failures. He scowls at the offending paper, the girl’s giggles being the only thing cutting through his annoyance. Glancing down at Kaia, his hearts calm at the sight of her fear and pain melting away with each laugh.

Kaia’s hands meekly reach up to him, “I can open it. Mama showed me how.”

He gingerly hands it off to her. What catches him by surprise is the way she holds it up to show him as she explains, “This is how you open it.” Kaia peels back the paper with ease, revealing the band aid inside.

Ephrael chuckles slightly, “Is that so? Thank you for showing me.”

“Kaia’s very smart,” Jade says with a smile. “She can count to fifty!”

“Oh really?” He nods along, “That is very smart.”

Kaia places the band aid across her knee, and now that her wound is treated and her tears have disappeared, it feels like his hearts can finally be at peace. “We should tell your mother what happened.”

She nods in response, and the three of them make their way over to the bench. Ephrael is almost certain that Kaia’s mother wouldn’t have looked up if not for his shadow, as she doesn’t even seem to take note of the clank of his ceramite boots against the concrete path.

She glances up at him, then notices the girls corralled below. Before she can speak, Ephrael addresses her, “Your daughter fell off the playground. I made sure she is okay and treated her scrape.”

“Kaia!” The woman looks at her daughter with concern, “How did you manage to do that? You should be more careful when climbing that thing.”

“Sorry mama.”

Ephrael frowns at her apology. Kaia doesn’t need to apologize; she was just playing like all children her age do.

“Thank you, sir,” the mother says, grabbing his attention. “I will take it from here.”

“Of course,” he grunts. Reluctantly, he makes his way back over to his brothers. Their idle chatter dies down as he approaches, each of their faces forming into either a knowing look or amused smiles.

“So…” Raphine begins.

“Raphine. Do not,” Ephrael finishes.

“Do you think one of them is…?” Sevram raises his brow slightly, watching his captain’s face closely.

Raphine’s grin grows wide and toothy, “Oh, come on brothers; it’s so obvious! I’ve never seen him interact more with a baseline in the past ten years I’ve been here.”

“He may have even, dare I say, smiled,” Sevram nods along in agreement.

Ephrael rolls his eyes and looks to Incaro expectantly, “Well? Will you be joining them in this, brother?”

Incaro stares neutrally at him for a moment, then a small smile begins to creep onto his face, “Congratulations, old friend.”

Ephrael shakes his head, “You are all blowing this out of proportion. She was young and hurt. I helped. That is all.”

As he says this, the sound of two pairs of feet pattering across the grass catches all of their attentions. Jade leads the charge across the lawn, with Kaia trailing hesitantly behind her. Raphine’s face lights up at the sight, while Sevram’s hands come up to fold in front of his mouth in order to hide his amusement; all the while, Incaro watches his friend closely as the girls approach. Ephrael had to give Jade some credit; for someone so young to readily approach four space marines with no fear in her eyes was an impressive feat. Even little Kaia, who’s once again sunken into herself at the sight of the new strangers, is brave for doing so he notes with a strange sense of pride.

Jade looks to Kaia expectantly as she approaches, who in turn looks up at him and says softly, “Thank you.”

“Of course, little one. Please be careful next time you decide to go climbing the playground.”

“I will,” she shifts nervously in place.

“What’s your name?” Jade asks with a curious smile.

“Ephrael.”

Both girls share a contemplative look for a moment, before Jade speaks again, “Eprail?”

“Ephrael,” he corrects.

“Ephe-el?”

“Ephrael.”

“Epile?”

“Ephrael.”

“Efff…”

Ephrael sighs, “Repeat after me. Ef.”

Jade nods excitedly, “Ef.”

“Rye.”

“Rye.”

“El.”

“El.”

“Ephrael,” he concludes.

“Ephail!” she exclaims. Raphine lets out a long snort, and Ephrael can see how Sevram’s shoulders tremble with barely contained laughter out of the corner of his eye.

“Close enough,” he concedes with another sigh.

Jade giggles and waves at him as she begins to charge back to Kaia’s mother, “Bye Ephail!”

Ephrael shakes his head, then looks back down to Kaia. She is in the middle of fiddling with her fingers nervously. “Thank you for the band aid, Eph… um… Ef-rye-el.”

“You are very welcome, Kaia,” he says to her, his lips turning up into the slightest smile.

She smiles back up at him, before waving and scurrying away, back towards her friend and her mother. As soon as she leaves, a voice within him urges him to follow; a budding bond yearning to take root and grow. Maybe he’ll let it, if fate sees fit to reunite them.

Raphine’s wild giggles break him from his thoughts once again. “Contain yourself, scout,” Ephrael grumbles.

“I’m sorry but, by the Emperor, you smiled! You’re actually capable of smiling!”

Ephrael lets out a growl of annoyance at the younger marine, an act that only serves to egg him on. Incaro plants a heavy hand on Raphine’s shoulder, “Alright, alright, that’s enough. Let the captain enjoy his new bond without your youthful enthusiasm.”

“What now, Ephrael?” Sevram asks him.

“Nothing,” he rumbles in response. “If it is meant to be, I will see her again.” His hearts seize at his own statement, chastising such a detached response. Of course it is meant to be! Such a gift is not given so lightly. He shifts uncomfortably in his armor, resisting the urge to palm at his chest.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

As Cold as Death

Author's note: Nanael in Soul Mate Sad AU. @sleepyfan-blog and I talked about this, and they are find with it.

Summary: Nanael arrives to the scene in this AU.

Warnings: Mentions of torture. A Chaos Warband has their hands on A Loyalist. LMK if I need to add anything.

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

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

Tagged: @felinisnoctis, @undeaddream

Nanael had been on Ancient Terra for a few weeks, trying to escape the Black Legion Chaos Warband (who would be considered Feral and Non-Treaty compliant, not that he knows that, yet).

When he feels a soul deep agony that has him falling to the ground and screaming, writhing in agony, as his time counter flickers and twists strangely.

The noise he makes attract the attention of the war band- several members and most of them are annoyed. One of the Dark Apostles of the group..

After he stops screaming writhing and is just sweating and reeling from the strange agony he's in poke at him and mutter in a strange language that has his head hurt.

'What was that?' Nanael wonders as he's roughly dragged by two of the larger members of the Chaos war band back into his damned cage that he'd just managed to escape as they toss him in.

"Someone was messing with the Little Lamenters Soul Bond," The Dark Apostle Elona Hidemauler informs the War Lord of the band, which Nanael just manages to hear, straining his ears as he keeps his eyes closed.

"Interesting," The War Lord Maraddeel Trarth says, his voice sounding more amused, yet bored than anything.

"We need to wait a bit- too much, fun with the little birdy, could have his soul flying back to his Father too soon," The Dark Apothecary Toradreel says.

"Aww... but he screams so pretty when his feathers are plucked," Verzos says with a wicked smile on his chaos mutated face. "He escaped his cage again, he needs to be punished."

"The Start of the Severing of his Soul Bond will have him too weak to move much for days, if we are lucky, weeks," Skaevadror points out, the Chaos Psyker, "It was a Nurglite that was starting to Sever the bond, but did so in a way that none of the backlash would end up on the one they were Severing with... Likely a Deal."

'I don't know my soul mate,' Nanael thinks, the sting of pain, of rejection has him closing his eyes and keeps his tears inside. Showing weakness is a bad idea, especially to this lot. 'and they would make a Deal with Chaos, for... something that the cost is their Soul Bond.'

Which is both deeply concerning and hurts. He needs to escape this Warband, to find Loyalists and warn them that there is a Chaos Warband that needs to be handled.

He shifts a little, he's so hungry, so thirsty. The bastards haven't given him anything to eat or drink, not like he'd trust them to give him something safe to eat.

Fuck, he's not sure if it's safe for him to drink of their blood- not with how heavily Chaos mutated and warped they are. One of the bastards, Urvox, had caught him trying to escape and had broken one of his wings, which was still badly hurt and hung limply at his side.

He will Endure, he will escape them. Hopefully he'll get his revenge on these assholes, after he regains his strength. One of the other Black Legionaries comes over to his cage, and he opens one of his eyes and glares at them silently.

Urvox, one of the younger Black Legionaries sneers down at the loyalist and uses a large metal bat to bang on it, "Loyalist scum! What are you plotting?"

"To escape- your deaths if I can manage it," Nanael snarls back, and his rewarded with a spiked mace to the legs as he snarls and swears at them.

Trying not to cry out in pain, while another one of the Warband Horandast crouches next to his cage, a smirk on his face, "If you gave in, it'd be easier on you, Scout."

"Never!" Nanael hisses out, "I won't fall to Chaos!"

"Hah, they all say that," Maraddeel says coming over, an arrogant stride to his gait. "And, yet- well. Fall, you Imperials do. Or die."

"I'd rathe die!" Nanael says honestly. "So kill me, and be done with it!"

"Nah," Maraddeel, "not yet, you have use, feathered bastard."

"As what?" Nanael snaps, trying to get him to talk.

"Oh, for a little of this, a little of that," The Chaos Marine says with a smirk.

Some of the Chaos Word Bearers would be ever so delighted to get their hands on a Winged Son of Sanguinius- the properties of their blood, and what they represent to their Chapters, both first found and the successor chapters, made them Potent Sacrifices to the dark gods.

Nanael needs to find a way to escape these Chaos bastards clutches- he has to. If he can manage to grab his armor and weapons on his way out, that would be ideal, but if he can only grab his own self, then that would be something. The loss of his armor and weapons would sting, and bring him shame for the losses of such valuable things.

Nanael waits, and bides his time, pretending, well showing more of just how wounded he was. How it affected him, also the fact that his soul mate had made a Deal that had affected their bond to him.

Black Legionaries could be very arrogant, and one night- he took his chance, while all of the bastards were drunk on stolen Mjod to escape his cage, grab his armor. Unable to get at his weapon, or any weapon as he runs as silently, and as swiftly as he could manage.

He checks his armor for traps, disables and disarms them. Fuck. He's so hungry. So tired. So thirsty. He puts on his armor and grunts at the weight of it. But as he puts on his helmet and continues to run, his hearts leap and he ruthlessly squashes down his feelings of hope and positive emotions.

A badly battered Nanael finds some civilization- there are structures- and a lot of baseline humans- although he sees some Astartes of various chapters in and nearby the base.

Woozily he moves from shadow to shadow, as best as he can in brightly colored armor. He hears the 'bong, bong, bong' of a church bell, and his steps go towards it.

He stares up in awe at a beautiful mosaic of his Lord Father, The Primarch Sanguinis rendered in beautiful metal and colored glass. He reverently, gently touches the stained glass and sways.

He leans against the wall of the church and curls up a mess of tangled, broken, blood limbs and feathers at the feet of his Primarchs painted window.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Intake Form

Author's note: this is the first part of Lykos' backstory in the Husbandry AU! I hope you enjoy it. Next

Tagged:

Warnings: none, please ask me to tag something if it bothers you/I missed it

Summary: Lykos reports to a nearby base. He's given an intake form and has questions because of what he's asked about.

“I was told this is one of the nearby Astartes bases that accept Astartes from several different legions, rather than hosting a single legion?” Lykos stated, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at the startled mortal sitting behind the welcome desk at the base that he had presented himself at. 

He had found himself upon this strange world a handful of days ago, and had wandered until he found civilization. The chaplain was glad that he had been suddenly transported upon this world in his usual all-black armor and cape as he would have found the abrupt transition more distressing were he without his armor and weapons. Not that he had yet to need either, but like most Astartes, Lykos spent more time inside his armor after he had earned it, than outside of it.

“I… Yes, that’s correct. We have. We have an intake form for you to fill out, if you don’t mind…?” The baseline mortal explained, handing over an astartes sized, thin block of wood with… Was that real paper upon it? Fascinating! He had seen the forest full of trees on the outskirts of the city, but Lykos had no idea that the supply of wood was in such abundance to use paper. They also handed him a writing implement as well. 

“I will fill this out, thank you.” He murmured, smiling a little at the mortal. He’d removed his helmet upon entry to the base, having clipped it to his belt, to appear slightly more friendly. The skull mask of a chaplain’s helmet was meant to be intimidating, but he was not angling for being terrifying at the moment. Lykos could see the tell-tale signs of this base being inhabited by Ultramarines, so the luxury of paper wasn’t that much of a surprise to the chaplain. He walked over to one of the astartes-sized seats and felt himself sink into the very comfortable seats, leaning back a little as he diligently answered the questions. He briefly thumbed through the packet of paper he’d been given, before starting to read through the first question.

What is your name, rank, and Legion/chapter/war-band association? … Lykos was curious as to what was meant by chapter and war band, but he would refrain from asking until he completed this bit of paperwork. Chaplain Lykos Sirak, Word Bearers Third Company.

Time, date and location previous to arriving in this world? … The implication being that it was a common enough occurrence for Astartes to be randomly arriving on this world without being sent here deliberately was a fascinating one.  18:33, M031.876 Monarchia, Khur. Khur had been brought into compliance almost sixty years ago, and he had been helping to develop Monarchia into the place of beauty and worship that his gene-father had hoped it would become. 

Lykos went to read the next question. There was a preface written before it. If you have heard of the Drop Site Massacre, or the Battle of Isstvan three, please read and answer the next five questions to the best of your abilities. If you have not, skip to question 8.

He had heard of the world Isstvan three, but only in passing. It was a world that was either in the process of being integrated into the Imperium, or recently had been. The chaplain mentally shrugged and dutifully skipped down to question eight.

Have you noticed any unusual changes in your superior officers and/or Primarch in the past few days/weeks/months or years? If so, can you pinpoint when they started to change, and list possible triggers for them to have started to act differently than they had previously. The answer to this question is confidential and will not be discussed with others unless you indicate a desire to do so in person. Please be as specific as possible.

Well… That was an ominous question. Lykos closed his eyes for several moments, going into a meditative state as he genuinely considered the question asked of him. He had been serving the Word Bearer’s legion for two hundred years as a chaplain, and a hundred and fifty before his promotion into the roll that had been created by his Primarch, as a way to minister to the spiritual and emotional needs of his sons, along with a way to encourage the compliance of new worlds into the Imperium with the potential of not having to fire a single shot. Yes, this sort of compliance was slower than the violence-forward methods that other Legions employed, but the citizens seemed to be grateful to not be trampled to death by the ceramite boots of their new rulers.

Lykos wrote down the truth as he knew it. As far as he was aware, his superior officers had been not been acting strangely. Lykos did not have the honor of interacting directly with his Primarch, and thus, could not say if the Imperial Son was acting strangely, and wrote that down. He then focused on the next question. 

What are the dominant belief/faith or faiths of your legion/chapter/warband? Do you hold these beliefs, or do they differ? If they do differ, please explain the differences between the two. 

Lykos hesitated to answer that, keenly aware that most legions would be unhappy to hear that they openly worshiped the Emperor of Mankind as a god, given the Imperial Truth that they were all supposed to espouse the Imperial Truth… But he had been honest on this form so far, and to lie now felt… Disingenuous. Besides, there was enough room on the paper to fully explain the reasoning behind why he and so many of his fellow Word Bearers believed in the divinity of The Emperor, which Lykos used.

What do you know of Chaos?

The… The theological concept? The inherent randomness of the universe? Lykos was baffled and wrote down what he knew about the concepts of chaos. Considering the amount of room to answer that question with, there was far, far more to the question of chaos than the chaplain knew. Ah well, if it was something he needed to know on this world, Lykos was fairly sure that someone would explain.

Are you a psyker? Nope. He had no psychic ability, though there were some in his legion gifted  with such abilities. 

Have you dabbled in sorcerous arts, or consider yourself to be a sorcerer or warlock? If so, please list the major abilities you possess and the contracts you have entered into. … Well that was blunt and pointed. Again, no, Lykos hadn’t and wrote as much. 

The next several questions were asking about the kinds of missions that he had completed, his medical history including any prosthetics, distinctive markings/tattoos/scars he may have, and a request to list all of the weapons and the kind of armor he was in possession of. Questions about battles that he had participated in, honors won and lost. Lykos dutifully answered each and every question to the best of his abilities, pausing every so often to stretch out his writing wrist and fingers before continuing until he had written out his full history as he knew it. 

Do you have any rivals/enemies among your fellow astartes? Lykos suppressed a chuckle. Some of the more passionate and stubborn of his Brothers had found Eternal Rivals and Bitter Enemies amongst both their brothers and other legions. But as far as he knew, Lykos had no enemies like that. Or at least, he didn’t consider any astartes an enemy or rival in such a way, and wrote that down.

The next few questions were about which legions or chapters (whatever a chapter was) he would prefer to interact with, those he’d rather avoid if possible, and other sorts of preferences and dislike questions, which he answered with mild amusement and confusion. He would work with whoever he was assigned to do so, regardless as to whether or not he liked them interpersonally. Part of a chaplain’s training was to ensure that one could separate their own emotions and put them on hold while dealing with whatever situation or emergency was going on… More so than most other kinds of Astartes. 

Those questions were also the final questions that he was supposed to answer on the form as while there were other questions, the qualifying statements that stated whether or not he was to answer of them did not apply to him. For which Lykos was grateful, as he had spent a couple of hours writing down all of these answers. He suppressed a yawn as he got up and stretched before walking over to the mortal who’d given him this form. He smiled politely at them and said “Here you go. I have answered all of the questions that I am supposed to on this form. I have questions about some of the questions on this form.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I probably can’t explain most if not all of your questions, but I can offer you several brochures that have been created for Astartes who’ve recently arrived on Earth… Or as Astartes call our world, Terra.” The baseline answered, taking the form, board and pen from Lykos, casually dropping an inexplicable information bomb on poor Lykos who hadn’t been expecting that.

“T-Terra? I’m… I’m on Terra? But-” Lykos spluttered, about to point out that there hadn’t been this much plant life on Terra in millenia. 

The baseline raised a hand before saying “Before you tell me something you’re probably not supposed to, I would strongly recommend that you read these brochures. One of the Astartes practiced in helping Astartes new to Earth settle in will be by soon. In the meantime feel free to wander around the lobby and other publicly marked rooms of the base. Any door that is locked is not meant to be entered unless you have the key for it.”

“I… Alright. I’ll… I’ll read through these.” Lykos murmured, internally reeling still as he took the offered information pamphlets. They were astartes sized and also made out of yet more paper. He settled down into another astartes-sized chair and began to read the first brochure. It was titled “Welcome to Terra, Loyalist.”

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲: 𝐗𝐞𝐫𝐱𝐞𝐬

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Switched this one up a little.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // Entrapment.

|°𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬°| |°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| • {𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧} • {𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐤} • {𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬}

The blue armored Space Marine eyes darted around at every dark corner before clearing them safe to continue on with his assignment. His hearing pricked for anything that moves out of place as he smells the dusty ventilation in the human base, a little huff leaving him. So unclean.

There were many things covered in multiple layers of dust; having been an abandoned base when a mixed band of Iron Warriors and Iron Hands cleared it out before some… authority could get to it to handle it properly. It has been abandoned since, the previous humans never coming back twice unless they have a met a rather unfortunate fate with the previous legions that had rioted the base. It was also too unorganized for his tastes; with files and smeared papers being scattered about, but he doesn’t reflect too much on it since it was abandoned after all. He shouldn’t dwell on how filthy it was when battlefields itself was foul. He’s been stained in his opposite colors before.

Turning a corner, he leans down through a heavy metal archway with the double heavy door being smashed right through and onto the cement flooring into the room as he looked down at it, slightly amused. Seems like his cousins didn’t take too kindly in their raid. Unfortunate, for the humans and their weak technology attempt to keep Astartes out of where they don’t want them to be.

Looking up and stepping over the door. He slowly checks around this room in the base, problem by problem. Eyeing everything down for a presentable report back to his higher ranked brethren.

More papers and files were scattered everywhere around the room, on the floor and metal tables. A layer of dust coating the abandoned surfaces of where work used to be. Broken vials and cups littering the grounds with a strange, black, gooey-like substance following some of the broke shards. Coffee he figures, or mixed water, depending on its old, rotten scent.

Stoping next to a metal table. He carefully picks up a piece of old paper from it, dust partials flowing off it as he reads the human words on it. His helmet translating some of the words he can’t quite place with the smudged ones.

— Is a creature of the Bathypelagic Zone or knows as the Midnight Zone. This creature is not be taken L—. Considering it appearance of remarkable scales and graceful fins, but it is the exact —. Though, it’s scales p— a hefty profit. Beware of his tail and — claws. It is astonishing we d—‘t have anything else on this —, but in time we will. May the — light our path.

Warning: It’s not to be out of its containment, or fed — meals a day.

A creature? How could the humans get their hands on a clearly undocumented creature? A creature confined in its space? He knows they have documented Whales, but he surprised by humans sometimes, and their capability to do the biggest things despite their smaller size. He shakes his helmet.

Is this creature still here? He can’t find anything on this piece of paper of its location, only what it would be housed in. A cylinder, high-strength acrylic filled with gallons of salt water, just like the one in the middle of the room.

Lifting his eyes from the paper. He looks at the cylinder in the middle of the room almost expectingly, waiting for such a creature to burst for it. Until he quickly realizes it has been covered with a tarp, nailed down at the base of the chamber. How could have the other legionnaires miss this? It was their duty and training to search everything out of order! Perhaps, they were Neophyte’s? Rogue scout’s, undocumented?

He nearly rolls his eyes, but huffs instead. Placing the old paper back down on the metal table where he found it. Undocumented scouts would make his mission a bit harder to do since he’ll have to find out who was responsible for the operation. He hopes some Alpha Legionnaires have something on them so he can get all his demanding paper work done in a record time.

He takes steps forward towards the covered cylinder and put a gauntlet on it, hesitating for just a moment before he quickly pulls it off with a whip. Dust immediately falling off the cover as the bolts holding the tarp down snap, flying into random directions that he doesn’t care of. What he cares of is the creature inside of the aquarium. Bright, aquatic light blinding his for a second.

What he expected was nothing like what he saw. His eyes briefly blinking rapidly at the figure before him. He could have never unveiled such a creature before him. Those deep, preying eyes looking down at him like it knew all his secrets while its fins flowed gracefully through the waters of the huge cylinder aquarium that was surprisingly the most clean thing in this base.

His helm tilts when his eyes roams over its scales with the creatures head following along, watching him in turn. It— her scales rather radiant in the light of the aquarium with a few scarred and missing. Her tail flowing gracefully around the rock she took to curl around on.

So, this is the creature the paper speaks so… dangerously of? Sure she was bigger than him by a torso, but she doesn’t look much of a threat. Instead, she looks more… oddly attractive and he doesn’t find it weird himself that he is finding this attraction at such a creature that looked half human and fish.

Perhaps, his report can wait just a little bit? He can contact some Alpha legionnaires to help his case.

[onestrangechild]

Me again, put some more thought into the Blood Forged chapter and (cuz my brain thinks backwards or something) I came up with a funny little detail.

Their capital ship is actually named Ferrus Tenebrae, and on board is a Servitor the size of an Astartes. A pathetic thing it is, really, pale ghastly skin imprisoned by muted silver that runs all over their frail body. Its lower jaw was removed, replaced with multiple tubes of various width and color, its remaining eye glassy and unfocused, muttering it “Needs to find my armor” or “Needs to be beautiful again” as it shuffles like a lost wounded puppy around the ship. It flinches when a marine gives it an order, and it eyes the various Ad-Mech that walk about with fear and trepidation.

The marines regularly beat the machine when its old, clunky, outdated robotics prevent it from doing strenuous tasks. The Ad-Mech often play with its coding or disassemble it either for practice or just purely out of boredom.

What earned this poor Servitor its fate?

That Servitor was once named Devrim. And Devrim was an Emperor’s Children.

Devrim was with his war band on a planet near the Medusa System. All they wanted was some bolter shells, maybe a few captives. They would Get mostly slaughtered sans a few including Devrim who were dragged on board the various ships in the fleet for questioning. Most were interrogated, then executed, but Devrim was different.

He was annoying, dragging out lines of questions ultimately to answer with absolutely nothing. When Chapter Master Tenkred threatened to turn him into a Servitor, he didn’t listen, thinking wouldn’t be so petty. Tenkred was.

Of course, now far more obedient due to the servitization, Devrim was open to more questioning. Once they got everything they wanted out of him, they had to decide what to do with him. Devrim was a filthy traitorous scum, and having him onboard was an Insult to the name of the Iron Father, he should’ve been put down like a dog.

But… he’s still a Servitor. His obedience reprogramming had wiped out *most* of the ego, but just enough was left so Devrim could understand what he had become. Now of course, having a Servitor just sitting in a corner somewhere begging for death wasn’t useful at all to anyone, so Tenkred made a “deal” with Devrim, telling him if he could find his armor somewhere aboard the Ferrus Tenebrae he could put it on. Devrim was overjoyed, believing the Chapter Master entirely and scouring the ship’s every hiding place, begging marines and skitari alike for any clues to where his armor is

(Plot twist: it was melted down and turned into Bolt Shells to feed War Feeder, Tenkred’s Heavy Bolter)

(Also I’m actually gonna make this organized maybe, giving every one of these posts the Blood Forged Chapter hashtag. That’s what you’re supposed to do right? I’m not well versed in Tumblr x-x)

[thevoidscreams]

Hello! May I pretty please request serf being bred by their white scar up against his bike?

You may. This is fantastic.

Pairing: Subdori (oc) x reader

Warnings: sex in public, breeding, rough sex,

Yall better hold the fuck on he's in it to win it and by it I mean getting you knocked up

(Also, sorry, it's pretty short. I'm not feeling the best today).

Subdori growled, his teeth clenched as he found you. He'd been looking for you for over an hour.

Turns out you'd been cleaning his bike, trying to get some downtime. The Astartes had been unusually insistent recently. You couldn't be sure why, but it'd left you sore afterward. Still, your body was used to it now, and even after a week of being bred nightly, you craved that ache and the sensation of being stuffed with his seed. You could imagine it sowing inside you and growing into a child for you to love and adore.

Your hands ran over the seat of the bike your lover rode into battle. It was nice to have some quiet time to yourself.

Subdori felt his cock twitch under his pants, seeing your ass from that angle gave him, many ideas. And he was going to partake in most of them. His approach was quiet. He's didn't want to scare you off, even if you were his and didn't need to be scared off. Subdori knew he'd been riding you a bit hard as of late.

But the teasing words of his brothers and the bets they'd been making had gotten to him.

'I bet I could get five women pregnant in the time it took you to get just your one.'

As if. He'd chosen you because he saw the quality of you. And he was glad to see that physical quality reflected in who you were as a person. He'd have you pregnant with in the week he was certain. You would make a fine mother for his children.

The first clue to you should have been the other serfs clearing out fast. Leaving their work unfinished. But you were too intent on your own work to register the odd behavior.

It wasn't until the hands clasped your hips that it dawned on you just how relevant it was.

"Subdori, my love, how are you?"

"I'm fine, but I've been looking for you for over an hour now." His hands held your hips, pulling you back to meet his hardening cock.

"I see, and am I in trouble for this?"

Subdori lowered his face down to your shoulder, mouth open, and let his teeth rest against the thin fabric of your shirt. It made you shiver with need, having been conditioned to the feeling of his live bites when you came. Now, the feeling made a surge of desire shoot through you.

"I would like to mount you now." Subdori growled.

"I bet you would big boy, but we're in the hanger. Not exactly the most romantic or private place to do this."

Subdori grabbed your waist and raised your body up to stand on the floorboard of his bike. "I don't see anyone who would object."

You rolled your eyes.

"I'm pretty sure the other serfs-" You made a gesture only to realize he was right. Every other person in the immediate vicinity had cleared out. "...well damn..okay."

Subdori chuckled, hooking his thumbs into the band of your pants, dragging them down.

"I see you have been thinking about this as well."

You shivered as the cool air of the room kissed your arousal soaked lips. "You put your mouth on my shoulder, of course I got hot." You grumbled.

His hand gently pressed you down, your chest resting on the wide seat as he freed his cock from the restraining confines of his pants.

"This is a good angle for you. We should do this more often." Your white scar huffed as he pushed his cock into the wet warmth of your cunt. You'd grown so used to having him in you every day that it was more of a comfortly snug fit rather than the burning stretch it had been when you first started sleeping with him.

Still, it drew a deep moan from you, the sound rising up from deep in your chest.

Subdori was pleased to no end by it. Knowing that his love, his little sparrow also enjoyed these times together made it all the more pleasurable.

He took a deep breath and massaged your hips, focusing on not cumming. He'd never tell you, but it was always a battle not to cum right away. You were simply too good a fit, and his body yearned to mark you inside and out.

When he had himself under control, he began, starting slow, angling his thrusts to drag over every place you loved. He was rewarded with the soft, whiny moans that he loved. It was music to his ears to hear you all but sing for him as he claimed you.

His own little slice of heaven within.

"Does my little sparrow enjoy this?" He teased, his manhood twitching as he drew another deep moaning breath from his love.

"Yes, fuck yes, please Subdori. Give me more." He bent forward over you, thrusting deeper.

"Satisfied?" His arms came to rest of the seat in front of your face as his body draped over your back and pressed you further into the leather covered padding.

There were a lot of ways you could have replied, but a deep hummed was all that would come out.

Feeling that he'd given you enough time to get well and truly settled his pace picked up, rutting you into the bike.

Beyween each wet slap of your arousal soaked thighs, he felt your heart hammering as your breathing quickened. You weren't far off and neither was he in all honesty.

"I want something from you sparrow."

"Yes. Anything." You panted as he nearly toppled his own bike over with how rough he was being. The world spins infront of your unfocused, lust hazed eyes.

"Scream for me." He latched his teeth onto your shoulder, biting down hard enough to mark, his canines drawing prickles of blood. His fingers holding you hips with bruising strength. Which for an Astartes was still restrained.

Subdori growled in satisfaction as your voice rang out. Calling his name loud enough that regardless of how far away they'd moved, the other serfs heard you in your moment of ecstasy.

It drove him over the edge, his hips not stilling for a moment as he rode out his orgasm. Working you both through the bone deep pleasure.

Subdori only let go when you began to whine in not pleasure but actual discomfort.

He pulled out, tugging your pants back up to cover you. Doing the same for himself. Then, scooping you up so less of his seed would be likely to leak out. Kissing the bite mark tenderly to relieve the ache.

"I should take you to the apothecary, I bit too hard." The jump from rough beast to caring lover was always a treat to behold.

"Good idea. I need to go back to get the test results anyways."

"Test results?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I've been feeling a bit off for a bit now and wanted to see what was up." You looked up at him.

"Why have you not told me this?" He sounded more concerned than upset.

"Cause it's always after you go off to train in the morning, and it's better after you get back to take me to breakfast."

He hummed. "Only in the mornings?" That is strange.

"I don't think it's anything to worry about Dori." You kissed his cheek.

"I hope not. But we will know soon enough."

You nodded and rested your head on his shoulder, smiling up at the man you loved.

[howlingday]

RWBY FANS! IT'S BEEN DECIDED! PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR

RUBY- JAUNE- GUN- CONVENTION!

Haha, you said it, Howl! It's time we named this surprisingly popular RWBY AU series.

THAT'S RIGHT! IT'S

RU-JA-GUN-CON!

COME AND SEE ALL YOUR FAVORITE THINGS!

GUNS!

ANIME!

AND MANY MORE!

Plus, we'll even get some extensions of this universe into new AUs! Like Vash Gun Jaune and Xeno-Friendly Jaune!.

Jaune: ...That gun looks stupid.

Jaune: Bite me, Alien Kisser.

REMEMBER! THIS IS RU-JA-GUN-CON! YOU BETTER BE THERE! AND BE SQUARE!

Ruby: (Shrugs) Eh. Beats Vacuo.

Jaune: (Shrugs) Eh. Beats Ever After.

---------------------------------------------------

Original

Real World Weapons

Cars

Anime

Tokusatsu

Video Games

Other:

- Aliens: M41A /

- Warhammer 40k:

--Tyranids: I II III IV V

--Orks: I II III IV V

--Astartes: I II III IV V

--Eldar: I II III IV V

- Webtoon: Rankers Return /

-Star Wars: Lightsaber /

- Transformers: Megatron / Optimus / Talisman / Master Bracers Cross Bands / Robot Child /

- The Fifth Element: ZF-1 / ZF 1 /

Crossovers:

- 40k / Halo

Jaune Gets A Gun AU by @novankenn

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Additional Stories in RJGC:

- Buyer's Remorse (The first)

- Joker's Bang! Flag Gun

- Ruby and Jaune get ice cream

- Party in the CON OF RU AND JA

- Yang puns at Jaune and Ruby