#space marine husbandry sentience

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12 Angry Space Marines or Lullaby's No Good Very Bad Only a Little Good Day - Part 1

First! A big thanks to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for helping write this beast of a piece. And to @sleepyfan-blog, @kit-williams and @egrets-not-regrets for use of their various characters.

Previous Chapter Here!

Next Chapter Under Construction Heeeere!

First in the entire series Here

Warning: Talks of violence, a very sore throat, threat of torture near mental breakdown and some mildly sexual talk.

Tags! I Hope you all enjoy!: @kit-williams @sleepyfan-blog @egrets-not-regrets @felinisnoctis @bispecsual

@passionofthesith @beckyninja @bleedingichorhearts @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@jaghatai-khock @virozero @angronsjewelbeetle

Summary:

Lullaby awakens alone, and injured. After everything that has happened the thing they want the least is to be alone. But try as they might they can't seem to get a message through to their loved ones. Meanwhile, the Scouts and the veteran Apothecaries get ready to take a vote on the fate of Stormbreaker, who they now must consider allowing to live if his survival truly is intertwined with Lullaby's.

You feel yourself drifting, swirling in patterns of darkness then back to mild lucidity only to be pulled under again. The same cycle repeats. Voices loud and quiet- demanding- requesting, questioning.

“SHUT UP!” “Fucking LOW BRED WITCH WHORE GOTHIC CURSING GOTHIC cursing-””Who is this Really!?” “The first psycher of the Baseline populace.” … “Their vitals are normal…at they need now is rest…” “I will take them to bed..”

There was the feeling of being swaddled in dark, familiar smelling blankets. The feeling of cool lips pressing to your cheeks and mouth. “I will return soon my darling…”

“..no….please, st…ay…” You tried to reach out but your fingers barely moved. You weren't even sure your throat was making words. You were so tired…so Tired…So Tired…

Khopesh cooed, brushing his hand softly against your cheek as you fight the force pulling you down. He thinks you look cute, while you feel about to cry. 

“Shhhhh, rest now,” He purrs, bringing his face down so he can nuzzle you, he presses another kiss to your lips. You feel momentarily soothed by the purrs rumbling in his chest as it presses to yours. 

“..s..t..ay…” Your lips move a little at least, but Khopesh seems to think you're just trying to kiss him back.

“When I return…I will give you my Full Attention.” He chuckles, allowing himself to indulge for a moment; he presses his tongue softly past your lips. Another kiss, just a small but intimate taste, he tells himself, just to tide him over until his lingering business with the Grey Knight is decided. 

You don't mind the kiss, but you mind what it means as he pulls away. But it's too late, you're already sinking ... 

sinking…

sinking…

A feeling like humming electricity, an overcharge, Grasping so hard onto Jophiel…followed by a scream so sharp it burned like-

M O L T E N  G O L D 

“HUAh! -ACK COUGH cOuGH!” You bolted upright gasping, hacking and coughing as your throat burned. Your eyes could barely parse the darkness but, you knew the bed your were sitting (coughing hacking dying??) At least…

Water, fucking hell I need water!

The typical water bottle you kept at the bedside was pretty much empty. You hobbled down from the bed, feeling along the way until your hand wrapped around a familiar handle. 

You pulled open the door to the Astarte grade mini fridge, grabbed a hydration ration and chugged it. The too cold liquid hurt as it touched your inflamed throat but the relief to your thirst powered you through it. 

Finally the ration was half empty and you pulled off, sucking in air which further irritated your pipes. Lord above what the Hell had you Done to yourself?? Your throat hurts- and the cold makes it harder to drink and you cough, which hurts.

Then the memories caught up with you properly. Ah right. A Bastard in Silver, a battle, your frie-

HOLY SHIT WHAT HAPPENED TO EVERYONE?!

They were all standing at the end, surely they're fine surely, Please Please PLEASE BE OKAY DON'T BE HURT DONT BE DEAD GO-

BREATHE DAMMIT!

You slapped yourself trying to get your mind in order. You glanced around the room that now at least had some Minor illumination from the fridge light. And a dizzying combo of relief and excitement runs through you as you spot your bag hanging where you normally put it when visiting. 

You're glad you can leave the fridge door propped as you scramble over to your bag and dig through it. There are things that you need to make sure you still have your mind going through the list as you grab each item.

Keys, Wallet (not your goal but you're glad it's there), Charger, Hairbrus- PHONE!

Oh thank the lord above! You think, as you frantically open it. 

Missed calls and texts from your parents…Shit. 

Okay okay Breathe, B R E A T H E, Your fingers tremble as you open the messages. 

‘Hey Lullybird, just checking in. When are you going to be home?’ 

45 minutes after the first message. 

‘Lully can you answer the phone??’

‘Bear, please pick up.’

15 minutes after that.

‘I'm starting to get worried! If you don't pick up your phone I'm going to drive to come find you!’

‘Your mother means it Bear, please answer.’

‘LULLY!’

5 Minutes Later 

‘Hey Hun! Khopesh texted to let us know you had too much fun at the picnic yesterday and passed out. So that's why you weren't answering your phone.’

Oh thank God, your Mom and Dad aren't making a panicked rush to the base. And they don't know about your near death experience. So that's two problems off your shoulders at least. 

And if Khopesh could text them that means he's safe. You feel even more relief flooding your system and uncoiling the Awful tension you'd been feeling. 

At least partly, you still didn't know the fate of the Primaris Marines. 

‘Next time please text Before you fall asleep after having too much fun!’ 

‘Yeah, just because you're Bear doesn't mean you get to hibernate for 6 months and not answer your phone.’

You smiled and rolled your eyes. You decided to type a quick response. 

‘Sorry to worry ya'll, I promise next time I'll text you Before I party myself into passing out. You text. ‘I'm okay, the partying hard also left me pretty tired even now, so I'm gonna chill at the base for a while longer. I should be home later today. I also want to check up on the new friends I made yesterday.’

A response was sent quickly from your mother. 

‘Turkey Butt…but I'm glad you're okay. See you later.’

‘Love you Bear Bear, see you later.’

You typed back. ‘Love you Both! See you soon.’

Okay…now to the main issue. You wanted to find the Primaris Marines. Sure if any were badly injured they'd be getting care from Anrir and Hura. Cedric was a fantastic apothecary in his own right but…

Gurgle…

Okay, one of the main issues, even if the Primaris were fine you Wanted to see them. Maybe it was a disconnect in your brain but sometimes you felt the need to see things to be certain of them. 

Like clicking the door lock of your car three times instead of one. Or double checking the stove was off. 

G U R G L e….

Seems your stomach was doing its own double checking; so you'd need to see to that too. You rub your stomach a little, sheepish with how loudly your stomach complained.

Khopesh should have some non-perishable snacks around. He always kept a supply. A memory of your beloved menace floats into your mind.

‘Just incase there's a shortage. I have lived through them before by the skin of my teeth when I was small. I got thin enough to see my ribs, luckily there was always at least a few rats and bugs running around…and a few corpses here and there. They didn't taste very good but Eh, more reason to be prepared!’

Hearing him say this so cheerfully and matter of fact practically broke your heart. It was part of the reason you wanted to make sure your cake was perfect. You want to make sure that he doesn’t have to worry about starvation.

He deserved the best you could give after that kind of life.  

And that Silver Bastard  R U I N E D it!

You feel your skin prickle with rage, a familiar rumbling grows in your ears as your muscles tense and your jaw twitches. 

Bz-zt Zt!

You're startled from your seething when the fridge light flickers violently with a sharp electric sound. Then it returns to normal as if nothing happened.

That…was weird… A bizarre thought comes to your mind, especially given what happened yesterday. Did…you do that?

If your powers could pour out of you as a scream, or travel through Jophiel like a ground rod, who's to say they can't affect electronics? It's all energy at the end of the day, particles traveling on waves or through conduits, and those waves being able to enhance or weaken each other….

Bringing up these topics to Anrir is third on your list, you decide. Food, Check on the Primaris boys, tell Anrir about science wizard shit. Karlsor did say that sometimes imagination, or lack thereof could be a limiter on psyker abilities.

You're still dressed in your clothes from yesterday, save your shoes but those are easy to locate. You sling your bag on your back, finish the hydration ration, and open the cupboard beside the fridge where the snacks are kept-

There are no snacks….What!?

You feel around in the darkness, thinking perhaps they're just pushed back only for your hand to brush against something papery. 

You pick up the slip of paper, and read it by the light of the fridge, and your half charged phone. 

This is what you get when you take things that don't belong to you Fuckface! Stop stealing my fucking sunglasses, and you can have your food back. 

Sincerely, Karlsor 

P.S. Fuck You 

Followed by a crass doodle of Karlsor sticking his tongue out and flipping the bird. You facepalmed with a groan.

Dammit Karlsor, Of all the times to pull a dumb shit Prank!

Oh well you wanted to leave this room anyway, guess you're doing it on an empty stoma- 

The door handle wiggles a bit, but doesn't turn. You jostle it again hoping it was a fluke…but the movement (or lack thereof) stays the same. 

You must be fucking Joking!? A frustrated wordless shriek/growl builds up in your injured throat, as you fruitlessly shake the handle of the electronic door lock. 

Okay new plan. You whip out your phone, and start texting. 

But as you try to send your messages of ‘Why am I locked in here?’ And ‘The fuck is this??’ with a picture of the food note, followed by ‘Hey Claude, Khopesh locked me in his room can you help me get out?’, And finally ‘Your Gremlins have done a fucking mischief please help!’ To Khopesh, Karlsor, Claude and Anrir respectively…you feel a bit of that prior anxiety creeping back in. 

None of the messages send properly. You try resending, deleting and rewriting, closing the message app and trying again, restarting your phone even! But every time the messages seem to hit a brick wall. 

What the Hell!? Your parents miles away from the base could get your messages, but four people Inside the base couldn't!?

Something wasn't right. 

You turn back to the door. 

You don't know what is happening, but you can't stay here. But how are you going to open the door?

Your mind drifts back to the moment with the light in the fridge…maybe? You kneel so you're eye level with the lock. You feel along it with your fingertips. Perhaps… you could try to do something?

You can't see things the way you did yesterday, but as you pull on your power, you notice the faintest…shimmer slide across the lock. As if your mycelium was invisible except for that nearly imperceptible visual feedback. 

And based on what happened yesterday it was pretty much confirmed that only You and others using warp sight could actually see them, even when boosted to near maximum power. You had heard that sometimes pushing past your limits- or near enough can help with a break through, but that doing such things could be dangerous if not properly watched over and the person cared for during and after it happening.

You remember the Silver Space Marine's murderous rage. How it'd felt not just to See the intention on his face, but actually Feel how he wanted to destroy you. The glare you could feel through the blue visor had been chilling.

The anger…the Malice, you stopped yourself, feeling nausea bubble in your empty gut, you needed to focus on the task at hand. 

You aren't certain how much to push, but you knew how to give a zap so… You remember what Karlsor said about Visualizing what you want your roots to do. Feel them reaching out- extending along a path.

Bzzt-ZAP! The lock clicks, and you swiftly turn the handle, and step out into the hallway. 

The Night lord Hallway. The hallways of the base designed for Night Lords, likely by Night Lords, even if they might not have built it…perfect. The darkness and the twisted architecture here hadn't frightened you for a while, but then again…you'd always come here with Khopesh. 

But other Night lords had human companions! You have an uneasy, sinking feeling in your stomach. You shake your head a little bit. Surely you'd be fine just…just follow what Claude said, when you'd asked about the faint green lines that trailed along the floors of these areas. 

‘Those are for navigation, see how they have arrow shapes cut into them. Follow those, and you can get back to the communal base areas.’ Claude helpfully pointed out- showing you the navigation lines. ‘The green was chosen as it could be seen- even by baselines in the more dimly lit areas of the base- without being considered ‘garish’... Also a word of advice? Do. Not. Run. In this area of the base.’

Follow the green lines and arrows. Okay, you can do this. You Can Do This. 

You take your first steps and wince at the sound of your own shoes as they pad across the floor into the dark. Shifting your bag, and holding it tighter to yourself. 

You'll be fine. You'll be fine. You chant to yourself.

You also firmly (try to) ignore the feeling that you were being watched. You don’t see anyone or hear anyone- but you have experience. You will see or hear your watchers precisely when they want to be seen or heard, and not a moment more.

…

Meanwhile in a meeting room on the upper floors of the Base, Anrir and Hura had gathered their Scoutlings for a meeting. Some of them are standing, others are sitting. Once they are all seated the oldest of the gathered marines speaks up.

“I suppose you would all like an answer as to why I've asked you all to come here?” Anrir posits, folding his hands together as he sits at the table. The other seats are occupied by Hura, Cedric, Ramiel, Nanael, Olly (and his rock), Claude, Jophiel, Kerubiel, Thressl, Karlsor, and Khopesh.

“Give us some credit, old man -Oof!” Kerubiel mutters snidely only to be elbowed by Thressl.

Thressl shakes his head when Kerubiel shot him a glare, snark and sass at this point in time would be a dumb idea. The Dark Angel smacks him back, but doesn’t speak for the moment. Things were tense- and they just found out a big secret. Who knows what Anrir or Hura might do to them with knowledge of something like this.

“We can make an educated Guess, it's to do with the Grey Knight correct?” Cedric answers to which both Anrir and Hura nod. 

“Indeed, we will need to decide what his fate shall be for his ahem … transgressions.” Hura explains. 

“There are a number of factors to consider, namely the benefits and consequences of either keeping him alive, or…”

“Killing him, Slowly…” Khopesh says with a grin that is equal parts gleeful anticipation and frustrated Rage. His claw-like nails were on their way to digging trenches into the table.

“Khopesh do not damage the base's property.” Anrir commands sternly. “Here, dig into this, not the table or your skin.” Anrir tosses an astarte grade stress toy to his…exuberant son who catches it easily, and begins squeezing and digging his claws into it as he'd been doing with the table. 

But his focus doesn’t waiver as he addresses his father. “I care not for the bureaucracy of keeping him alive, or his benefit as a psycher. He has committed an unforgivable act. Incurred an unpayable debt for what he did to our Claude, our Scouts and my Lullaby! Allow me to extract his Meager value from his dying screams in retribution! I will even keep his body usable for you.” He promises, switching to Nostraman so the others wouldn't understand that part. “Please father, allow me this. I crave-No! I Must make him Beg for the mercy of the grave-!”

Claude has been learning Nostraman, and caught his words, he keeps his face neutral- at least Khopesh remembers that waste not, want not includes making sure that organs and other useful pieces can still be harvested, if the Silver Bastard is killed.

Anrir holds up one ancient yet unmarred hand to stop his son from continuing. “A compelling argument my son, but it is not only you he has wronged. The Scouts deserve their chance to speak on these matters as well, given they were the ones most hurt by his actions.”

Khopesh huffs, but doesn't argue, simply responding with a, “Yes father.” To which Anrir nods approvingly, then addresses the other Scouts. 

“Khopesh has given a good example as to why I've brought you all here. I encourage you all to speak freely, One at a time of course.” He explains, then gestures to the room. “This room is shielded, no transmission can go In or Out, your words will only be known to those in this room.”

Hura picks up the conversation. “We shall be taking a vote on the fate of the Grey Knight. You will each get a chance to speak your vote, and if you deem it necessary, elaborate upon it.” 

Now Thressl scoffs a bit. “I don't think we need a whole meeting fer this? Let's just gut the Bastard an’ be done with it! I'm sure all of us have got better things to do than sit here.” The Space Wolf insists. 

Claude shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he speaks up. “I…don't think we should be so hasty.”

This actually causes some confusion, the others in the room turning to the adopted Night lord. While he did not want to be merciful- Jophiel’s words- the vision he had made him… reluctant to kill the bastard outright. For not at least.

“Claudy?” Khopesh asks, uncertain and maybe just slightly mildly frustrated, why his little brother who had been so full of righteous fury suddenly seems so much more subdued.

Claude took a deep breath, “Before we take the vote…there's something you all should know.” He states, standing and gesturing to Jophiel to do the same. “Go ahead,” He says, placing a comforting hand on the Blood Angel's shoulder. 

Jophiel also takes a steadying breath, his wings flex and settle with his nerves before he addresses the room. “I…had a vision…after I helped Lullaby ground the overflow of power they experienced.”

“I saw many possibilities; things that might already be, or haven't been yet, or may never be. The uncertainty is…frightening but the clearest of the images was thus.” Jophiel explains. “A monstrous being of gold, awakes from its slumber, it stirs at the ripples that flow outward from the melody. It hungers for b-blood…” Jophiel stammers a bit, but grounds himself with Claude's hand. “It awakens to Strangle the Melody in the cradle, to make it silent once more…”

“And the worst of outcomes are more likely…if Silver tarnishes into rust…”

The room is mostly silent, the Scouts seem confused by Jophiel's riddle speak…all except for Claude, Khopesh and Karlsor. Karlsor starts swearing under his breath while Khopesh's grip on the stress toy had increased with every word Jophiel spoke until-

POP!

The scoutlings look upon the Night Lord who appears like he's about to pop himself. Still gripping the destroyed item in his fist. Ah- visions are always complicated- and sometimes true, sometimes untrue, sometimes only partially true. But could they take the risk of discarding Jophie’s visions?

No one moves. 

At last Anrir clears his throat. “That was the Second reason for the shielded room…I'm afraid your recent incident with the Grey Knight isn't the only…event of consequence we will need to discuss as we take this vote.”

“Tell me…have any of you Scouts ever heard of a being known as, A Custodes?”

…

Walk, just keep walking, just follow the lines on the floor. 

Walk, do not run, running activates the prey drive and you're Dead. 

Walk, keep your head up to not look weak, but not so far up as to imply arrogance. 

Your thoughts swirl around, and around. The feeling of being watched had only increased as you'd followed the green lines. You had to tamp down on the urge to bolt (walkdontrunpreydrivedead), and even more so on the urge to use your powers. 

Would they do you much good in this situation?? A zap could help but then you'd have to be touching whoever was looking at you, and they might be a psycher so then they might realize it wasn't just static electricity- 

You feel your heart pick up speed with excitement as you see the doorway you knew would lead you out of this place. Away from the eyes of those with unknown intentions. 

Walk Do-Not-Run 

And you're close. You grasp the handle to the door and start to pull. 

“Leaving so soon?” 

The gasping scream you would've made is smothered by your sore throat as your other hand is snatched up in an unfightable hold. You're pulled up and back from the door, then swung around roughly till the movement stops and you can gain your bearings.

A deep navy blue ceremite clad hand is holding your arm, leaving you dangling like a child holding a teddy by the arm, only your toes are touching the floor. You glance back to see a short haired Nightlord with criss crossing facial scars grinning and chuckling in a way that makes your stomach ice over. 

You look forward and see two more shapes come into focus from the darkness. Two more Nightlords, one has his helmet on, the other looks…almost stately in appearance with well groomed stark white hair, and seemingly unblemished skin. 

“My my Myyyy, it seems you're even more…homely in appearance up close.” The white haired Nightlord purrs, going as far to pinch your Nose between his gauntleted fingers! 

He was actually pinching with a decent amount of force, enough to sting. And as he shifted his grip it actually felt like he might try to break it, before tutting at the pained whines you tried to hold back. “Oh come now Pet, don't take it so personally…homely can be Charming after all…in its own way.” He chuckled, releasing your nose, and straightening his posture.

“They Are Cute! Tiiiiiny and fragile,” The Night lord holding you up purrs sickeningly, bringing his face next to yours so you're forced to inhale his breathe, you try not to breathe in so much. “Whatcha wanna do with ‘em Faust?”

Faust hums, and drums his fingers on his chin fucking casually. “Well…there are just so many options. But I Think I know what I want to do First…” He states, and brings his hand to your face again. This time he snatches your cheeks into a little  too tight hold, forcing you to look him in the black, eyes. 

“A question…Why were you such a Rude little human?” You blinked, clearly confused but Faust did elaborate. “I Know you felt us watching, yet you didn't run. You denied us our Chase. And then you have the nerve to not even Scream, when dear Mephis snatched you up? You're either incredibly Dense or Incredibly Stupid.” 

Didn't those mean the same thing??? But Faust went on “So tell me, What is going through your empty little head?”

You were flabbergasted, but before you could even attempt to open your mouth, the other Nightlord who hadn't spoken once finally sighed. He sounded bored and exasperated. “Really Faust?”

“SHUT UP CHIROP!” Faust's voice turning from posh yet sadistic to full on snarling bile actually startles you…though maybe not just you if the twitch you felt from Mephis was anything to go by. Chirop seems to hesitate, before glancing away. Faust turns his attention back to you, and the stately gentlemen act comes back over him. “Well? We're waiting…”

You're not even sure what's trying to come out of your mouth, maybe a Huh? Or a What? But your sore throat chokes ot to nothing, leaving you flailing like a fish on a line, wincing and grasping your throat.

Now it’s the Night Lords turn to look confused. “Are you Mute as well as stupid?” Faust askes with a slight sneer.

Okay, fuck you bastard, you thought but shake your head. You bring your hand up to your throat and press your fingers to the sore spots from the outside. 

“You got Choked?” Mephis asks, confused.

Okay fair misinterpretation, you shake your head again. You bring your hand up and make a scratching motion at your throat.

“Oo! OO! I got it! Your neck is itchy?” Mephis puts forth before…bringing his other hand up, and…scratching at the back of your neck??

It was a bit roughly done, but actually didn't feel too bad. Still no though, you shake your head again. What other motions could you make to get the idea across?

Chirop sighs then growls. “For Curze's sake their throat is injured! Like Scratchy? That's why they can't talk!”

“Oh…” Mephis nods with understanding…still scratching the back of your neck. “That makes sense.”

Faust seems a little miffed by the explanation, and let's out a huff. “Well…that's disappointing…” Then a new look comes over his face, one that brings back the curdling dread in your stomach. “But…it also means no one Else will be able to hear you Scream…” He brings his grinning face full of bright sharp teeth down to your eye level. 

It's at this point Mephis stops scratching your neck. “Well yeah…they just explained they literally can't scream.”

“MEPHIS YOU ARE A BRAIN DEAD IDIOT! BE SILENT” The snarling bile came back, and this time you notice how Mephis flinches more obviously when the white haired Nightlord turns his vitriol on him. Faust huffs then brushes his hair back as if trying to compose himself. You notice how the third less chatty member of the group had flexed his claws, and leaned forward when Faust chastised Mephis. 

Interesting…and you actually Almost feel sorry for him when the Nightlord holding you mumbles out a quiet. “Sorry Faust…”

Faust seems to notice Mephis's unhappiness, and lets out a sigh. “You know I adore how…charmingly direct you are Mephis dear.” He cooes, now saccharine in his wording. 

It makes you want to vomit with how clearly Fake it was. 

“But it Can also be…tedious, and you Know how I feel about tedium, don't you?” More sweet empty cooing, you're third wheeling your own shakedown…Great…

You glance to the other third wheel with a look of confusion. He just shakes his head, and you figure he's rolling his eyes. His fists were still clenching and unclenching though.

“So…why not break up the tedium by…playing with a new toy? Would that make you feel better, my big strong lunk head?”

Okay now the dread comes back, and you did Not like how Mephis's expression changed to one of excitement. 

Chirop speaks up again. “Faust, you know who this one belongs to...”

Faust scoffs. “I don't see a tattoo anywhere, do you Chirop? Is the tattoo in the room with us?” He remarks snidely. “Or maybe that's just the opinion of yours that I didn't ask for. Besides…”

“I doubt one of Anrir's lap dog bastard sons would care if we batted around his current sex toy for a bit. He doesn't even care enough to mark them, so they can't be That important…”

You ears fill with rumbling again like before, causing This Smarmy Fuckers words to trail off into background noise. 

First he calls Your Khopesh a lap dog bastard son, then has the Nerve to insinuate that Khopesh doesn't Love You?

The man who threatened to fight the literal reason for your trauma? (Even if you'd convinced him not to.) Who gave you love and affection and banter and made you feel beautiful inside, outside, in bed, in life, introduced and integrated you into his Family for fucks SAKE.

“Hell they'd probably spread their legs for anyone who offered them safety, If they were even smart enough to think of doing so that is.”

Honestly you thought this fucker had found the straw that broke the camel's back? BUT DAMN he just keeps finding more!

You're done, you are Done with this bullshit. You've shot straight past fear and now you are going to make them-

P A Y...

Mephis you can tackle through the hand still held in his grasp but the others…

(!) And that's when it hits you. You feel your toes touching the floor, almost as if you were dancing en point. You focus, pulling on your power, and pushing it through your legs. 

As the two Nightlords continue their chatting about all the awful things they might do to you, you watch the shimmer and shift of the air as you feel the mycelium spread. 

You suppress a determined smile when you feel the subtle change in sensation of it making contact with the Nightlords. The shimmers crawl up their armor and you imagine your mycelium grasping and tangling around their Necks.

They're not psychers, you can feel how low their warp power is.

So you'll just have to drain their life force instead. If giving energy causes a boost of Vitality, draining it must do the opposite. And you weren't going to lie, the thought of these bastards dropping like flies in front of you sounded Very Appealing right now. 

You'd still need to be careful, pulling too fast could cause a zap, which might give you away. That you could not risk. It’s working. You think to yourself, pleased.

You do allow yourself a light grin seeing the shimmer on your roots become slightly more visible. You also notice how the conversation of the Night Lords has changed again. 

Namely that it's trailed off, Faust (bastardfuckfacedeadmanwalking-) swivels his head around suddenly. 

“Did you two…hear something?” He asks, actually sounding a little worried. 

Mephis looks around as well, you can feel his grip loosening as he loses focus. “Hear what?”

“Maybe it's Another opinion you didn't want to hear.” Chirop growls, more tersely, perhaps his response to your roots draining him is more anger than Fear. 

“Will you Shut your Stupid FUCKING MOUTH CHIROP I'M TRYING TO LISTEN!” 

“Is the sound in the room with us right now Faust? BECAUSE ALL I'M HEARING IS YOUR ANNOYING FUCKING VOICE!”

Mephis actually seems very distressed by this outcome. “Stop it! Both of you! We're not supposed to fight each other!”

“SHUT UP MEPHIS!” “NOT NOW MEPHIS!”

“DO NOT, GIVE HIM ORDERS!”

“OH BECAUSE THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO GIVE ORDERS IS YOU RIGHT!? CURZE'S SAKE I SHOULD'VE-”

“LIKE YOU HAVE EVEN A SHRED OF WHAT IT TAKES! IT’S NO PICNIC MANAGING YOU TWO IDIOTS! YOU'RE LUCKY TO HAVE SOMEONE AS CAPABLE AS ME TO KEEP YOU BOTH ALIVE AND FED!”

“PLEASE!” 

“SHUT UP!” “MEPHIS!”

Bingo, the other two were at each other's throats and the third was steadily becoming more upset which would hopefully lead to him dropping y-

“Shut UP I'M TRYING TO THINK!” 

“But I didn't say anything Fau”-

SMACK! 

Your world falls for a moment as your feet hit the concrete floor, with the rest of your body following. You roll scramble back to standing as soon as you can. Claude and you had practiced how to roll and fall properly so that you didn’t hurt yourself.

Just in case some asshole might try to grab you- from Astartes height-. Your jaw however stays fallen open as you realize what just happened. Faust actually struck Mephis across the face, who's now doubled over covering himself while Faust continues to berate him. 

“I said SHUT UP! AND QUIET YOUR INCESSANT WHINING IT'S GRATING ON MY NERVES YOU DOLT!”

“Sorry Faust…” Mephis whimpers. 

That…he can't be… If Any of the Nightlords you knew pulled something like that…Any of the Astartes you knew even! The one in Mephis's position wouldn't be apologizing! He'd be throwing hands!

Or someone would be throwing them on his behalf!

You glance back at the other Night lord who does look ready to KILL the white haired Asshole, but you notice the way he hesitates. 

Mephis briefly looks at him, and shakes his head, which seems to be the only thing holding Chirop back from committing a good old fashioned homicide. 

What the fuck kind of dynamic had you walked (been dragged) into? As much as you would love to break the prissy platinum blond bitch's nose you knew you didn't stand a chance, even one to one, but if you go for the door now, they'd probably snatch you again before you made it three steps.

For now, you had managed to keep your focus even while being dropped, so you keep draining. But you are Primarily focused on Faust.

Could anyone blame you? 

The white haired Night Lord seems to grow more paranoid by the second whipping back and forth until…his eyes land on you. 

You freeze, half from fear and the other half you still feel that bubbling seething rage in your very Soul. 

“Stop it- Stop Staring at me you little Freak!!” He snarls, maybe he can subconsciously sense what you're doing. You don't stop though.

You Like seeing the FEAR in his eyes.

Faust actually starts laughing, without humor and without breaking eye contact. “Oh OhHO little whore iS DEFIANT EY?” He giggles, and you scramble backwards as he advances. “TIME FOR YOU TO LEARN, WHAT DEFIANCE GETS YOU-” Faust shouts while winding up his arm for a back hand. 

SLAM-M-M!

A huge dark shape interrupts Faust by Crashing down from above in front of you. The entry is followed by a piercing guttural snarl and the sound of flapping bat wings. 

“SHIT IT'S THE NIGHT HAUNTER! RUN! SCATTER!!!” Mephis cries, and scrambles away into the dark with Chirop not far behind. 

“YOU IDIOTS IT'S NOT THE NIGHT HAUNTER IT'S JUST-,” 

“Just…What exactly…?” A familiar voice breathes through the ghoulish looking raptor helm. 

Faust shuts his stupid fucking mouth, before having the Gall to bring out the polite voice again. “Ahh…Ghosk, what a surprise…”

“5….”

“I'm sorry what?”

“4…”

“Now wait just a minute this is All a misunderstanding!”

“3…”

“Which has already offended you so I'll just be on my way…”

“2-1…”

“FUCKING HELL YOU IDIOTS WAIT FOR ME!” Faust cries as Ghosk chases him back into the darkness, snarling and slashing claws practically at his heels until the younger Nightlord vanishes from your sight. 

You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Holy shit that was scary. 

But it was also Satisfying. Fuck those assholes! 

Ghosk huffs into the dark, before turning back to you. You'd met this particular Nightlord and his human. Like you'd said before, Khopesh wanted to integrate you into his family. 

He was Oooold like Anrir, but a bit more crass like Karlsor. His jokes made you snort on more than one occasion. But right now he seemed far less jovial. 

Not like you couldn't guess why…

“This is no place for squishy little humans to be walking Alone. What in Curze's name were you Thinking?” He growled in a voice that was both exasperated and Tired. 

You open your mouth to respond, but only a bit of weezy air comes out as you try to speak. 

Shit that still hurt!

You fumbled around in your bag for your phone and typed a quick message. 

'Shit popped off yesterday, ask Anrir.' 

'Throat got fucked up, not in the fun way. Literally can't talk.'

'Got locked in a room without food.' You show the picture of Karlsor's note which causes Ghosk to actually laugh slightly followed by tired mutter of “Of course he fucking did that, for fuck's sake…”

'Need to eat And I need to find the Primaris boys, especially Jophiel, have you seen them??'

Ghosk shakes his head. “Sorry kid, haven't seen any of them since this morning. Just saw Anrir being tight lipped as usual, he was with Claude though. And I haven't seen the fluffy duckling in a long while.”

Ghosk notes the way your shoulders sagged in disappointment, before an itch hits your throat causing you to hack and cough like you had tuberculosis. 

He chuckles patting you on the back as your neck throbs from the air forced through it. “Come on little human. Let's get you to the medbay.”

THuMP! 

Another loud sound similar to when Ghosk had plummeted to your aid rings out. You whip your head in the direction, and Ghosk instantly goes into another defensive stance, a snarl is building on his lips until-

“What the heck is all the ruckus down here for??” Another familiar voice comes out of another familiar helmet. This one you recognize as a Chaplain, and the voice…

Ghosk sighs heavily. “Shatterwing…”

The Chaplain whom you'd met in passing holds his clawed gauntlets up plaintively. “Hey man, I just got here- Oh!” His eyes lock onto you, and he swoops in curiously. “Khopesh's little squeeze! But not a Khopesh in sight, what's up with you? You two have a fight?”

You open your mouth, but again nothing comes out. You point to your throat, and shake your head. 

“You didn't have a fight…you just can't talk?” Shatterwing asks, cocking his head. 

Damn you're tired. You finally decide fuck it, open your mouth as wide as you can, and even hook your fingers into your cheeks. You take one hand and point down your throat to emphasize that Shatter should look Inside. Which to his credit he does. 

“HOLY DAMNED WHORE MOTHER OF CURZE WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU!?!?”

The Chaplain shrieks causing you to startle a bit, ah well ... you certainly hadn't expected that reaction, lord above. 

“The hell are you yapping about now!?” Ghosk demands. 

Shatterwing points a trembling hand at you. “Their throat is redder than a tech priest taking a mud bath on Mars! What the hell did you and Khopesh do last night?? Were you trying to do something kinky and went too far or was this expected!?-” 

Thwack! “Don't ask them that you dumb fucking slut!” Ghosk growls after delivering a quick hit to the rambling chaplain. It was much less violent than the one you saw Faust give Mephis.

The Chaplain hisses back at the older Nightlord, you just…you just shake your head. 

“Wait, that's not what happened?” Shatter asks. “Then what did?”

You open your mouth, but then close it. You can't…really tell him. So you just shake your head again. 

“Oooooh I see…too embarrassed to tell me?” Shatter posits. You feel an embarrassed blush erupting over your face at the implications. “No worries little human, you don't have to give me details. Though I certainly wouldn't be opposed. I'd be impressed to find a partner who could leave my throat like that after a night of Passion.”

You facepalm, pulling your hand down your cheeks in exasperation. You're not escaping the freak allegations today it seems. Maybe better he thinks you're just into weird stuff, saves you the trouble of making up a proper lie. 

Ghosk just sighs tiredly again before telling Shatter to either be quiet or Scram, because he's taking you to the med bay. 

The Chaplain acquiesces to the former, but you can't escape the feeling of him eyeing you smugly as the three of you make your way there. 

Lord above it's not even 11 AM and the day is already exhausting…Lucky You!

[rufus-made-flesh]

Space marine 2 has shown me there is alot of hot people in the grim far future

[crackshipsart]

@yousif9999

Spanish: ojala tengan mas popularidad, como paso con Doomslayer y ese perrito (olvide su nombre). pero bueno. un usuario me pidio que los dibujara y me parecio lindo, nunca he jugado Warhammer/Space marines por si hay errores en el dibujo.

English: i hope they have more popularity, like Doomslayer and that doggy (i forgot his name). but well. a user asked me to draw them and I thought it was cute, I've never played Warhammer/Space marines in case there are mistakes in the drawing.

[littledarknesgold]

A Brief Respite

Warnings: Yandere, Obsessive, Possessive, Possessive behaviour, Mention of blood, Mention of killing an animal

(Tired of all this sushi and hype around the Astartes, the man actively rejects the idea of connecting with the Space Marine who begins to hang around near their home)

You wake up again to rustling and scurrying sounds outside, it seems that even the fact that you bought a house in the wilderness did not help you escape from being stopped from being disturbed, but at least you were able to escape from something else, from this maddening fanaticism for these damn Astartes. Space Marines. Or whatever they are called? In short, from these creatures.

They came out of nowhere, speak an incomprehensible language, do whatever they want and most importantly, everyone is delighted with them (not everyone, but most people), even your shitty friends, in whom you thought you would find common sense, one after another got hooked on this shit.

You feel sick from this, you want to take a double-barreled shotgun and shoot yourself, but this is not the first time the world has gone crazy, right?

New rustling sounds outside force you to get out of bed and, throwing open the window, shout, "Get out, you garbage rat!"

For a while the sounds stop and with a feeling of deep satisfaction you wait back in bed, already closing your eyes you jump from the sound of broken glass.

Something flew through the window and slammed against the wall, falling to the floor, leaving a dark stain of blood on the wall.

You couldn't fall asleep until the morning. Only in the morning, in the light of the merciful sun, you saw a 'gift' (or a threat?) - a dead rat, or rather what was left of it after hitting the wall.

With disgust and revulsion, you threw the rat into the trash, washing the blood stain off the wall all day. You had heard enough about the manhunters among the Astartes, so the next night you slept fitfully, hugging your gun.

However, it was of little help when a huge shadow broke into your house.

[thememestrider]

Inspired by @solspina and their wonderful Dante fics- sis thank you for giving our beautiful depressed angel man the love he deserves, and I hope my fic will be worthy of adding to the library.

"Let Me Take Care of You" - Dante x Reader

Sypnosis: Dante is reeling from wounds he sustained during the Devastation of Baal, both physical and psychological. Thankfully, though, you are there to help pick up the pieces.

Author's Note: I've decided to make the reader a perpetual because I hc that Dante would struggle to fall in love with someone he knew he would outlive (poor man has been thru so much) has no real bearing over the plot of the fic, but thought it was worth noting.

Content Warnings: Angst, reverse hurt/comfort, pre-established relationship, general 40k-ness, descriptions of blood and wounds, lore inaccuracies, Dante is a very tired and traumatised boi, reader is G/N but I wrote them as a female in my mind, I wrote this at midnight while on a plane, so this isn't edited or proofread XD

Across his hundreds of centuries of service, Dante has become many things. To his brothers, he is their stalwart leader; to the people of the Imperium, he is a legend; to the enemies of humanity, he is an angel of death. But to you, he is none of these things. To you, he is your husband. Your beloved. The man you hold most close to your heart. That means that, when he leaves for a mission, where others anticipate victory, you worry for his safety. And, when he finally returns home, you rush to him, not to congratulate him on his victory, but to study him for injury or distress. More often than not, you will find nothing.

Tonight is different.

You're in bed when he arrives, quietly reading a book borrowed from his library. The door slides open with a hiss, and you look up to see your husband standing in the doorway of your shared quarters. His hair falls over his shoulders in thick curtains of black and silver and he's dressed in a red robe that's sinched at his waist. It accentuates the sculpt of his chest and shoulders beautifully, but that is not what draws your eye. Rather, it is the darkness under his soft, hazel eyes, and the way he is hunched slightly over his left side. Without looking away, you shut your book with a snap.

"You're hurt," you say.

Dante smiles tiredly. "It's nothing, my love," he says. Closing the door behind him, he starts towards the bed. Before he reaches it, though, you throw of the covers, climb out of bed, and meet him half way. You kiss him lightly on the lips in greeting, snaking your arms around his waist as you do. "It doesn't look like nothing," you say into his shoulder. "You going to tell me what happened?" As you embrace him, an involuntary sigh escapes Dante's lips. You feel him lean into you, as if all of a sudden, he could not stand without you holding him up. Despite your lingering concern, it makes you smile. You squeeze him a little tighter.

Suddenly Dante's sigh becomes a grimace.

You pull away, throat tightening as your worry returns with a vengeance. "I knew it," you whisper.

"Sweetheart, it's nothing" Dante says again. "I promise, I-"

He winces again, face turning pale. Suddenly he's unsteady on his feet and staggers forwards. You manage to catch him just in time. "Easy, easy. I've got you." A white lie; all that muscle and cybernetic enhancement of his makes Dante unbearably heavy. Already, your entire upper body is shaking trying to keep him upright. Of course, you don't tell him that. Nor to you allow him to see it.

"I'm sorry," Dante says. He sounds breathless. "I... I'm just fatigued, is all."

"No point lying to me now," you murmur. "Come on. Bed. Now."

Dante makes a sound of exasperation, but he doesn't resist. Carefully, you guide him towards your bed, easing him down to sit on its edge. The frame creaks under his weight. Dante winces again as he sits down. One of his hands shoots up to clutch the left side of his chest.

Crouching before him, you touch his cheek with your palm. "Will you let me see?"

Dante doesn't answer right away. For a moment, you're afraid he's about to argue with you. But either he's in too much pain to bother, or he sees the defiance in your eyes and realises it would be futile.

"Left pectoral," he croaks. "Just below my primary heart."

Your own heart falters. That's the same place he had been wounded during the Devastation of Baal- where a tyranid Swarm Lord had sliced him open and left him for dead. With a feather-light touch, you peel open Dante's robe. Slipping it off his shoulders to expose his bare chest.

His muscles are tense, the hollows of his collar bones deepening as he clenches his jaw. It's as you suspected- the gash carved into him by the Swarm Lord has ruptured. The skin around the wound is angry and inflamed. Blood trickles over his chest and down his stomach in thin streams.

Dante sees the look on your face and attempts a smile. "I must've reopened it while in combat," he says. "But I swear, it isn't as bad as it looks."

You give him an unamused look. "No," you answer. "No, I think it's worse."

Dante opens his mouth to retort, but you cut him off. "Don't move. I'll be back in a second." You get to your feet and hurry to the ensuite, gathering up the first aid kit you have reserved for situations such as this. When you return, your husband is leaned forwards and breathing hard. His skin is now the colour of a corpse.

Anxiety climbs up your throat at the sight of him like this, but you swallow it with a gulp. Now is not the time for worry anymore; you have a job to do.

You crouch in front of Dante again and set the first aid kit down beside you. Gently, you bring your hands to his face. "Luis," you whisper. "Luis, look at me."

He lifts his head. His expression is a mix of pain and shame. "I'm alright," he says softly. "Really. I just-" he grimaces. "-I just need a moment."

You struggle to keep your eyes from watering. It breaks your heart to see him like this. You know Dante struggles with the weight of responsibility: as a chapter master, as a lord regent, as a living legend of the Imperium. All these duties- all of which enough to break most men on their own- have no room for weakness or weariness. And the fact that Dante holds himself to a standard nigh impossible to achieve, even for him, only adds to the already crushing weight he has carried for over one thousand years. Carried for so long, he sometimes forgets that when he's with you, he can shed that weight for a time.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you lean in close until your foreheads kiss. Despite his earlier insistances, Dante melts at the touch. His shoulders sag. The muscles of his chest release. After a moment, he even closes his eyes.

"This wound is old," he suddenly says. "It should have healed weeks ago."

You raise you head so you can meet his gaze. "You haven't given it the chance to; the second you were awake, you were back in the field. You should've been bed ridden for weeks. Throne, you should be bed ridden now."

Dante averts his eyes. "I couldn't." His voice is little more than a murmur. "I can't."

Still cupping his cheeks in both hands, you plant a long, loving kiss on his lips. When you pull away, you say, "You're tired, Luis. You're hurt. And you can't do your job when you're either, let alone both. I know you hate to admit it, but it's the truth."

Dante doesn't reply. His eyes remain firmly on the floor.

"Luis, please look at me." You use his given name rather than that favoured by everyone else. To remind him that you aren't everyone else. That the mask of strength and infallibility he puts on for the rest of the galaxy can come off when he's with you.

Eventually, your husband lifts his gaze. The expression you find there makes you want to drag him into your arms and hold him there forever. It also makes you resent the Imperium and the galaxy as a whole for causing him this much hurt. Fearing you might cry if you didn't, you kiss him again. Longer and more deeply than any time before. Dante returns the kiss in kind, using his free hand to gently grasp your chin and keep you close. You breathe in his scent, feel him do the same. He's the first to pull away, but it's only because another, involuntary grimace suddenly grips him.

"You need to rest now, Luis," you say once he recovers. "You need to rest and you need to heal. Let me take care of you. You deserve it. By the Emperor, if anyone in the world deserves it, it's you."

Dante looks at you with so much affection and gratitude, it makes your heart stammer. Tilting his head, he leans into your palms and closes his eyes again. "I don't know how I managed for so long without you," he whispers.

You plant a kiss on his forehead. "You'll never have to again," you promise.

Eyes still closed, he only nods.

Slowly, as if afraid you might wake him, you reach for the first aid kit and extract a needle, sutures and anti-septic spray. "Right, let's get you stitched up, then. You've bled all over our bed enough already, I think."

Dante huffs out a single, smirking laugh. "Please, my love. Don't kick me while I'm down."

You smile. It falters slightly as you raise your impliments. "Okay, my love. Brace yourself; this might sting a little."

Dante opens one eye. "Trust me," he says ruefully. "It can't hurt anymore than it already does."

A/N: I didn't really know how to end it properly, so sorry if it feels a bit abrupt.

[felinisnoctis]

Hey if the new primaris marines have chimeric gene seed does that mean I can have a blood angel/night lord hybrid? Because if I get all my space gothic vampire fantasies in one neat little package I might go a bit feral.

[barn-anon]

Sarvak grits his teeth as he tries desperately to rein himself in. Why did he ever think the Nails would bring him closer to his father? Why did any of them think so?

He sucks in a deep breath, he can’t slip up. How many of his brothers had let their guards down, thinking all would be well only for it to not be the case? Humans, their own bonded ones, they’re a treasure beyond words. No one back home would’ve let one of his kind into their house.

But they did, his did. And not lashing out is the least he can do to repay this kindness, a kindness undeserved.

She’ll be home soon, she rarely takes long to come back from her work.

A growl leaves his lips as the Nails bite again, refusing to be ignored. He can’t do anything though. Simply being here is forbidden, the laws in place prohibited anyone with the Nails to stay in the city, and in most cities in fact. If he even tries to take it out on a stray or wild animal, he risks costing his human her home.

It’s the jingling of keys that signal the coming of relief. His human’s soft voice calling out as she closes the door behind her. He’s slips out of his room and wraps his arms around her fragile form. The demand to crush, to rip her apart is always there. But with her in his arms it’s softer, quieter.

Tagged: @kit-williams • @egrets-not-regrets • @bleedingichorhearts

[incorrect-primarchs-quotes]

Seeing all this "space marine husbandry" thing brings me great joy because finally my babies can have some friends.

Say hi to Sniff Sniif🥹

[sleepyfan-blog]

Intruder!!

Author’s Note: This is the next installment of Joth’s adventures in the Husbandry AU! Other fics with Joth in them that I’ve written can be found here. 

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel

Warnings: none? Please ask me to tag something if I missed it/it bothers you

Summary: Joth handles an intruder with the mercy you’ve taught him. 

“Put the goat down. Gently. Leave this property and return with money or never.” Joth ordered the Blood Claw who had his idiot hands on one of your goats. He had heard Maisie’s warning bark and growls, followed by Jacks and Sandy running to aid the oldest of your trio of Great Pyrenees. The canids helped Joth patrol the boundaries of your territory and chased away most predators and would be threats at night, while you slept in your home. 

“The fuck I will, Chaos scum! I’m hungry and this thing looks like it’d be a decent enough meal.” The young Space Wolf growled, bristling visibly. The goat in his hands squirmed and butted his horned head against the other’s armored stomach.

Maisie growled lowly, and Joth whistled, not wanting her to get injured by this insufferable Loyalist Fool. Jacks rumbled, equally unhappy. “Do you know where you are, Space Wolf?”

“... That doesn’t matter! I’m hungry, and I’m taking this as my meal!” The Blood Claw blustered, glaring up at him.

“We are on Terra. M3 Terra.” Joth rumbled, stalking closer to the Loyalist “Put. Down. The goat.”

“Why the fuck would I believe a word out of your mouth, you Traitor?!” The Loyalist huffed, still glaring at him, pulling the goat closer to his body, even as it bleated and kicked at him.

“Do you have a working vox-communicator?” Joth asked, struggling to not roll his eyes at the young idiot in front of him. 

“I do. But I am on a survival mission! To prove that I am capable of surviving, no matter the circumstances.” The Blood Claw snapped. 

“Aren’t baby Space Wolves left on frozen hell-holes to prove themselves? Most of Terra is far from such a world, even in the depths of winter that would qualify.” Joth asked, tilting his head a little as he took another slow step towards the young idiot. The other didn’t have armor on and was lightly armed.

“... To be entirely honest, I thought I was dreaming. This part of the world at least, is so temperate and pretty. Prey and edible greens and fruits are so plentiful here. And I’m not a baby!” The young Space Wolf protested, puffing out his chest up at him.

Joth took another step towards the Blood Claw, whistling another command to Maisie and Jacks, who kept the younger Astartes hemmed in on two sides, while the pup, Sandy padded up behind him. “Youngling Astarte. Put down the goat. It belongs to the one whose property this is. There is Astartes-food available, but to get it you put the animal down. Now.”

The young Space Wolf looked up at him, before looking around “But… But you’re a traitor! Why should I believe y-”

You call out from the porch “Is everything alright, Joth?”

Oh! He hadn’t known you were awake. He has an idiot youngling to wrangle. Faster than the little Loyalist could track, Joth lunged forward and scooped him up, pinning the Blood Claw’s arms between his side and one of his arms, in a secure grip that the other would not be able to easily break. His other arm carefully yanked the goat free before setting her down and giving the goat a loving pat on the head. “I found the raider.” He answers in the same language you spoke.

“Who are you talking to? Who is that?!” The baby Space Wolf growled in Gothic, wriggling ineffectually in Joth’s hold.

Joth grabbed the younger Astarte by the back of his neck and shook him a little “You behave. That is the owner of these lands, and the animal you tried to steal.” WIth that he trotted up to the porch, firmly holding onto the wiggly young Astarte, who wasn’t going to escape his grasp unless the thousands of years old World Eater let him go. Khorne’s Blessings of strength and endurance far outweighed what the whelp could muster up.

You look at the rough fur-clothing covered young Space Wolf struggling in his hands, a small smile appearing on your face “Do you know how long he’s been on Earth?”

Joth shook his head “No, but from what little he said, he hasn’t been here long. Naughty puppy has been eating your livestock that has gone missing, I’ll bet. He was trying to take a goat when Maisie yelled at him.”

“Joth, dearheart, he’s a person. What’s your name? Does he speak English?” You respond, having a sigh and shake your head a little “Bring him inside. I’ll heat up some leftovers for him to eat. He looks like he’s half-starved. No wonder he was going after my animals. Especially if he doesn’t know about the base he could visit for food and clothing if he felt like it.”

“Space Wolf youngling.” Joth huffed, glaring down at the wiggly Blood Claw. He snapped “What is your name, puppy?”

You sigh as you go get your cellphone “He’s still a person. I’m going to call the after-hours astartes response line for the closest Loyalist base in Gannet Point - unless. Is he a renegade? He’s not odd enough to be a chaos marine, I think.”

“As if I would tell you that, Traitor! You might do some sort of horrible ritual to fuck me up, or steal my identity if I told you! Who is this baseline mortal who cavorts with traitors! I-” The baby Space Wolf began to shout. 

“Loyalist puppy.” The Chaos astartes acknowledged in English. He then readjusted his grip on the Blood Claw so that he was covering the other’s mouth. An Astartes could accidentally injure the hearing of a mortal if he wasn’t careful, and Joth had encountered enough Blood Claws to know that the rough and tumble little lunatic pups were seldom careful.  “Shush. No yelling in the house.” He shook the growling pup who was trying to bite through his armored gauntlets with just enough force to get him to settle down.

“Alright. Nearest loyalist base it is. Do you think he’ll eat anything I try to give him? Or will he growl at me and refuse?” You muse as you press the numbers to the on-call phone number, knowing it by heart by now. 

“Probably would refuse. Keeps calling me a traitor, among other things, when I let him talk.” Joth answered, able to hold the squirming Blood Claw in his hands as he waited for you to make the phone call.

~

In less than ten minutes after you made the call, despite the fact that your farm was over an hour away from Gannet point by car ride, there was a mixed squad of Loyalists. Two were Ultramarines, one was a Salamander, and the remaining two were Space Wolves. 

The Blood Claw had tried and failed to escape Joth’s implacable grip the entire time, making angry little growling and whining noises behind the hand that kept his vocalizations quiet. Maisie had decided to stop growling at him just before the squad of loyalists had arrived.

“Sargeant Amicus, thank you for coming so quickly. I’m aware that it’s terribly early in the morning, but this particular Astartes has likely been stealing my chickens for the better part of the week and he looks half-starved.” You murmur, greeting the lead Astartes, the slightly smaller Ultramarine.

“It’s our duty to take care of issues like this. Especially when Brothers or Cousins are causing such problems. Faffnir, Ulric, would you mind retrieving the Blood Claw from Joth?” The Sargeant answered with a small, professional smile, gesturing to the two Space Wolves.

Ultric and Faffnir each grabbed one of the younger Wolf’s arms, with the latter saying “We’ve got the pup… You were a lot gentler with him than I expected you’d be.”

Joth shrugged “He is young and dumb. Nothing wrong with that, and I have been learning that kindness is not weakness here on Terra.”

“... Fair enough. No biting, you little shit!” Ulric answered, sharply reprimanding the Blood Claw as the young Wolf attempted to chomp one of the hands restraining him. 

“The muzzle I was brought here with should fit him well enough.” Joth remarked lightly as he loomed over the trio of Space Wolves “I would be willing to let you borrow it.”

“.. No, I think he’s finished being bitey, right? You’re going to be a good Scout and not try and cause more mischief, right?” Faffnir rumbled, his voice going low and growly.

The youngest Space Wolf let out a low, unhappy whine before looking away from Faffnir, his body going limp “Yes sirs… Why are we not murdering the heretic?”

“That will be explained later. Off we go, pup.” Ulric hummed before he and Faffnir dragged the Blood Claw away.

“As he is a loyalist, please send us a bill of how many animals he killed to feed himself, and you will be recompensed for it. I am aware that you’d rather have the a animals back, but money is all we are able to offer at this time. Though perhaps, after the young one has settled into Terra and how things run here, we could have him work on your farm as partial recompense, if you would be comfortable about that?” Sergeant AMicus asks you.

Joth’s tail swishes back and forth in agitation at the thought of that and he crosses his arms. He is scowling at the floor, but doesn’t saying anything.

“A tempting offer, but I would rather have the money, sergeant.” You answer honestly, shaking your head a little.

“As you say.” The Ultramarine acknowledged before turning and leaving, the other marines leaving behind him.

You wait until you’re sure that the Loyalist Marine sare out of hearing range before you smile warmly up at Joth and move in close. You gently touch one of his arms so that he is looking at you as you say “You did really well tonight, Joth. You protected my animals. You didn’t hurt the other marine, just restrained him so that ye wouldn’t cause more problems , and you were very patient.”

Joth beams at your praise and kneels down, lowering his head.

You smile warmly, knowing what he ias asking of you without words, and you gently pat his head, mindful of the Nails still digging into his skull. You press a kiss to his forehead “I mean it, Joth. You did very well.”

You hear the happy thump-thump-thump of Joth’s tail hitting your floorboards as he leans a little more into your head-pats. “I tried to be gentle, like you said I should be.” He rumbles.

You can hear the smile in his voice and you give him a couple more kisses on the forehead “And you succeeded. Well done, Joth.” You murmur as you try and fail to stop a tired yawn from leaving you.

HIs large, warm arms come up to gently encircle you, hugging you close. “Rest. I will protect, alongside your guard dogs.” His voice had an almost lyrical quality to it, and you nod sleepily, closing your eyes and allowing Joth to carry you up to your room and tuck you into bed.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

The Light of Truth

Author's note: More of the Primaris Boys in Husbandry. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Pallius, Cedric & Olivar. Thank you to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for letting me borrow Khopesh. Thank you to @kit-williams for letting me borrow Ghosk.

Warning: Character death. Characters fighting. Bloodshed. Uh. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Summary: Cedric gets a message. A brother is nearly rescued, another is nearly lost. Petras reveals his true colors to more than just Primaris Marines.

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

Cedric's wrist mounted vox gets a communication ping.

[I am uncertain how much time I have left before I return to the embrace of the Omnissiah.] Castiel sends in his message through agonizing, and coughs blood from his lungs raggedly. There are some spots of blood, mucus and the mechanical fluids used to keep him alive that spatter on his vox. Ugh, despite how much the Mechanicum has enhanced him, he’s still so wretchedly fleshed.

After a few wet ragged coughs Castiel painfully continues, his voice more staticy [but I don't want to die without letting someone know the truth. Embedded in this message is a holo recording of a meeting between Chaplain Mephestil Petras of the Black Templars and a Chaos Marine… as well as his reactions to my queries on the subject. He murdered me. I hope this gets to you. The God Emperor Protects and provides for us all.]

Castiel had also sent the holo recording of Petras going too far in his punishment. When Petras finds and attacks him on Ancient Terra he's able to record some of it, as well as his agonizing cries as he tries to escape, but dies to Petras again. Castiel had managed to have his eyes- which were cybernetic to record Petras’s words and actions- and the recording cuts off after he finishes dying.

He had the message on a delayed sending, hoping that Petras wouldn't notice the vox message. Tied to send when twelve minutes after he flatlined, and he sent coordinates of where he lay dead, or so he hoped. Castiel had wanted to send it to one of his fellow Black Templars primaris Marines.

His last thoughts are Prayers to the Omnissiah that his message will get through to one of them. That Castiel’s death won’t be a waste, that at least someone will have this proof. 

Castiel knew in his hearts that it likely wouldn’t do anything much. Petras has killed Primaris Marines before with only a slap on the wrist. But at least it is something and the First borns will be interested in consorting with Chaos. Even though his life is worthless to them.

~

Cedric reads the written message, his mouth going dry, as a slow-burning fury ignites his hearts once again. He mutes the video, before playing it, as he is currently sitting down in the clinic’s staff cafeteria, and he has little doubt that the sounds of pain and misery will immediately attract the attention of everyone who could hear it.

Two. That’s two, in less than twenty-four hours. While Mattias wasn’t dead, he had been placed in a medically induced coma, to reduce the amount of movement that the young Astartes was capable of doing, as the injury to his spinal column could be operated on and treated, but was very delicate and any movements could potentially permanently render his legs unusable without spinal prosthetics or other augments that would be incredibly difficult to acquire on Ancient and Holy Terra. 

He knows that Anrir and the other Night Lords are incredibly dangerous. Its just for some reason they have decided to drag him protectively under their bat wings, rather than tear him to shreds with their talons. For now at least.

Claude and Khopesh are away from where Ghosk and the others are setting the stage for the ‘fight’ between ‘raven guard’ Anrir (or whatever name he’ll be using) and the Claw will ‘attack’ him.

Claude and Khopesh watch through binoculars as the staged fight happens- and Captain Kasz Kalleran takes the bait and falls for the trap, hook, line and sinker. His Captain did enjoy it when he could be painted as the hero of the stories he tells, regardless of the truth of the matter.

The Claw gets ‘chased off’ by the flock of Ravens who surround the wounded ‘bird’ and help patch him up. Claude closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. Anrir is far older than he is, and knows what he’s doing. Had chosen to do this- had planned for contingencies and decided on this course of action.

Claude is distracted by a vox text message he gets from Cedric and reads it with a concerned frown on his face.  [You wanted to talk? I’m on lunch break right now. Get Ramiel. This is urgent.]

He sent a message to Claude via vox. [You wanted to talk? I’m on lunch break right now. Get Ramiel. This is urgent.]

[On my way.] Claude responds. [Where do you want to meet?]

Claude frowns, concern churning in his gut as he sends a message to Ramiel about Cedric’s request. Ramiel responds immediately to his message and sends one to Cedric as well.

“I have to go- Cedric needs my help with something,” Claude informs Khopesh.

“Have fun with that,” Khopesh says, “I’ll check on the others, see how they are doing after the ‘fight’ with the Raven Guards.”

Claude nods, “sounds good.”

[The park nearest to The Clinic. We should be able to talk freely there.] Cedric texted both Ramiel and Claude. 

While he waited for them to respond, he walked over to where Olivar was currently sitting, scowling into the bowl of food in front of him. “You know it’s not going to leap out at you and try to murder you. What’s on your mind?”

“You told me that He is on Ancient Terra, too, right? Why the fuck were we sent here, back into his reach? Unless He is from before He started…” Olivar swallowed hard, a low, wordless growl leaving him. “Should we be keeping what The Bastard has done to us a secret? Your mentor did not tolerate his grox-shite, at least when it came to you, no matter what The Shithead said you did, or didn’t do. Surely there’s got to be at least one Firstborn marine you can talk to about all of this shit.”

“... There are a couple I’ve told some of what’s happened to. In M42. They kind of bullied me into telling them, but given what they’re like, I really should have realized that they were going to do so, sooner or later. Do you remember what I told you about Bruders Roland and Arnault?” Cedric asked, rocking back on his heels a little. 

“... Yeah… One’s a battle brother,” Olivar says, “The other’s an Emperor’s Champion… something about Bonding? Bonded?”

“... Trust me, the Bonding and Bonded conversation is for when you are better healed and we aren’t doing emergency scrambling. But I think… If you, Ramiel  and Pallius agree… I think I might ask both of them to help me lodge a formal complaint against Petras, to get some kind of official record as to the grox-shite and cruelty he is capable of being known publicly.”

“That sounds vaguely ominous Ced,” Olivar says, his scowl shifting a little. He scoffs a little, “didn’t we try that before and were told ‘stop being whiny little bitch and take the ‘character building’ lumps and suck it up?’ Why would that change since we’re here?”

“Bonds are wonderful things, I promise! From what I’ve seen, they are good. Also, that was by other firstborn brothers in M42. I told them that Petras killed a dozen primaris marines in M42 and that both of them immediately swore to kill him. I entirely believe that they meant that, too.”

“I mean… you are lovable Ced,” Olivar says slightly teasingly, “And Apothecaries are hard to come by. Of course they want to protect you.”

Cedric huffed a little and shook his head “I don’t think it’s just because I’m an Apothecary. They were furious at the thought of younger brothers being killed for existing. Not that I’m advocating for Chaplain Petras to die, just to… To be brought before a tribunal and made to answer for his crimes.” 

By the god-emperor, does the wounded fury and sorrow howling in his hearts want Petras dead. Not just dead, but killed slowly, painfully. To have the fucker be made to beg and plead for mercy, for an ounce of compassion and be shown exactly as much as he gave Cedric’s Brothers. 

None. 

But that path led towards falling to Khorne, or perhaps Slaanesh, depending on the way he went about it. So formal sanctioning it was. For his own safety, and the safety of others.

“I wonder how Justice and punishment are delivered on Ancient Terra? I think that’s something we should find out, before we do anything or say anything.” Olivar scratches his cheek, “hm… let me think on it. Unless the Bastard does something… Bad here.”

“He’s killed a Primaris Tech marine. I just received Castiel’s dying vox-messages and video-footage of his murder.” Cedric answered, shaking his head a little. “Mattias - another Primaris Marine, is currently under anesthesia and in surgery because of the complications from Petras beating the fuck out of him yesterday.”

“Fucking bastard, you have convinced me, I’ll talk to who ever it is about his discipline and punishment methods.” Olivar hisses, “I remember Cassie- quiet, dutiful and always helped with weapons and armor maintenance. He was so happy to be chosen as a Tech Marine. He loved to talk about a certain kind of cog wheel.”

Cedric nodded, saying “I’m going to check in with Pallius first, then Ramiel. To see how they both feel about going forwards with what we know of petras’ crimes. I will be taking point on this. As the Apothecary of the group… And the one who survived longest in M42 before being sent to Ancient Terra, this is my duty and my burden.” With that he nodded, standing up and heading over to where Pallius was sitting and eating lunch.

~

“Pallius, I’ve run this by Olivar, and I have his vote. I won’t reveal it to you as I don’t want to influence your decision either way. But I… I am asking if you want me to come forward to certain firstborn marines - Brothers Roland and Arnault of the Black Templars, and Captain Ash’val for certain about what Chaplain Petras has done to us. He’s killed at least one Primaris Marine on Ancient Terra. He’s badly wounded Mattias, who is currently in surgery.” Cedric explained, his voice low and quick he gave the other a brief summary of what Castiel had sent to him.

“... If our words and scars can help keep others safe,” Pallius says quietly, “then… then I shall speak of the shameful things.”

“It’s not your shame, what he had done to you, Pallius. It is his. Please, you must remember this.” Cedric urged his brother, his hearts caught in the back of his throat. 

Pallius ducks his head a little at the others words as his eyes become wet and he rubs the grit from his eyes. “I… I’ll try to.”

“Thank you, Pallius. You have Dorn’s own courage.” Cedric murmured, gently pressing his forehead to Pallius’, as an affectionate gesture.

“Keep safe Ced,” Pallius says, closing his eyes and leaning into  Cedric a little, returning the gesture as much as he can. “... You have Dorn’s own courage as well Brother.”

Cedric nodded, walking out of the cafeteria as he read up on what had been sent to his wrist-mounted vox, mind whirling. 

[I got the message from Claude. I’ll be at the park in seven minutes. Do I need to get Catius or Oleandros? Or have them run a Distraction?] Ramiel sends Cedric a text vox message, adding another statement. [Eta five minutes, told Chaplain Bo’shan I was taking my lunch break. He seemed happy about that.]

[I will be there in five minutes.] Claude says a thought occurs to him and he asks [Do you want me to get Jophi?]

[... I  don’t want to involve all of the others just as of yet. Any more of this, and I request that we please speak in person. Neither of you are in trouble.] Cedric vox-texted back, making sure to send the last sentence, so as to not worry them too much. He hoped.

[Wilco.] Ramiel replies. He is worried- just what is going on? He wonders what Cedric has found out or wants to discuss. 

He had to go by Reclusiarch Feldarim’s office to get to where he was going- the other watched him go with a casual glance. But as he didn’t seem too upset, the other let him pass without harassing him. Which gives him a sense of relief, as Chaplain Bo’shan had lightly pressed him for details, and he’d said that he was meeting up with Cedric and Claude for lunch.

He’s able to excuse himself and grabs something to eat. And then ensures to grab enough for Claude and Cedric. Both of them are terrible at remembering to eat. He also grabs some of the homemade ice cream as a sweet treat, just in case the conversation needs such a thing.

Claude replies [Understood- I also have some… interesting information on Justice and Punishment that The Night Lords talked about for Ancient Terra and the Alliance.]

[Good, I have questions about that, which will help in deciding in which way things will go. Whether we go the official route, or take care of trash on our own.] Cedric texted back.

~

He must have one hell of a scowl on his face, because the baseline humans who he passes by all scramble to get the hell out of his way. While normally this would make him feel guilty, especially as the baselines who live on the base are either bonded to one of the marines who lives on base… Or they have nowhere else to live and they work jobs on base in order to pay in kind for housing and food. 

Zariel had heard the whispers and more loud complaints and worried about Fierce Angry Scowling Astarte in black and white scrubs. So he had sent a message to Ash’val, Feldarim, and after a moment’s hesitation, to Hura. Just in case.

“Cedric,” Zariel calls out carefully, “... You know I am here for you, if you need or want to talk about something that’s bothering you. If you want to talk.”

“... I acknowledge this. However, I need to speak with a couple of others. We will decide a few things and then figure out who to reach out to. You are, I will say, on the short list for the… Issue that needs handling.” Cedric responded, falling back on formal wording in order to hopefully get the teal Ultramarine to back off a little. He didn’t have the time to try and shake off a Teal tail. 

“Very well,” Zariel says with a nod, watching the younger Astarte move. “I am honored to have such trust.”

He decides that it would be best not to press him too much. After all- he didn’t want to rile the other and send him into hiding again. The fact that young Claude had managed to teach a Black Templar how to be stealthy and good at it had been… more than a little distressing… As impressed as he’d been after his hearts had stopped feeling like they were going to burst from stress.

Cedric nods brusquely before marching the rest of the way out of the base, still scowling and not in the least bit attempting to hide his expression in the least. 

Zariel also rolls a thought or two in his head. Whatever it was that Cedric had told Roland and Arnault had made the two older Black Templars exceedingly angry.  So he was going to wait before sending a message to the older ones about this… Newest thing.

~

Cedric spotted Ramiel and Claude in one of their favorite spots in the nearby park. The brief stretch of his legs, and outside did help him calm down slightly, though his nerves - and his fury - were still jangling just beneath the surface of his skin. He waved over at the two of them, attempting to smile “Hey… Claude, Ramiel.”

Claude had helped Ramiel set up the basket of food, a blend of baseline human and Astarte food and drinks. They had set it up on one of the wooden benches that was rated for Astartes to sit on safely with the table neatly set out, with a picnic cover neatly tucked around to keep things a bit cleaner.

“Hey Cedric,” Ramiel says, “I thought since it was about lunch time, and you had a Conversation to speak with us, a picnic would help the Look of things. Regardless of what is spoken about.”

“Nice to see you Ced,” Claude says with a grin.

Claude heads to the area specified by Cedric and helps Ramiel set up the picnic that the other had decided to grab. It was a good cover- and they’d get to eat something while they talk about the Urgent matter.

At least on the outset it would look like the three of them were enjoying lunch and a picnic, which would have curious eyes not think anything Suspicious is going on. Not that he thinks that Cedric is doing anything particularly troubling. But it helps throw off any potential watchers, just in case.

 Claude wonders if the Claw is encouraging his paranoia and suspicious tendencies before shaking his head a little and greeting Cedric. He sees the thunderous scowl on the other’s face and suspects that whatever he’s going to say is not going to be great.

He’s proven right as he listens, upset at what Cedric has learned. He goes over the details of what he remembers of the conversation with Khopesh about Justice and Punishments. Ramiel and Cedric agree to speak with Khopesh in public and he sends another message and Khopesh arrives swiftly.

“... A picnic does sound good.” Cedric relented, plopping down next to his Brother, leaning into his familiar warmth. He looked at the spread of food and drinks, deliberately focusing on what he could smell and see before him, in a desperate attempt to calm down, at least a little. 

Ramiel hums one of the prayer hymns that he knows helps Cedric calm down, Claude slowly reaching out and holding one of the Apothecary Apprentic’s hands and lightly squeezing it. Claude joins in on the song, humming the chorus and harmonizing with them, the words whispered in High Gothic.

He hummed along to the hymn, allowing the calming focus to come over him. Anger had it’s place on the battlefield, but too much of it was dangerous. Not only to oneself, but to everyone around the one lost to fury. He squeezed Claude’s hand back gently, managing a rueful smile “I have bad news, worse news, questions, and a proposal, contingent upon the answer to those questions. What do you want to hear first?”

“What’s the worst news?” Claude and Ramiel ask at the same time, bracing themselves.

Claude looks around them glancing at his brothers as he takes some of the bread and spreads jame and nut butter on bread- as well as sprinkling some Astarte nutri-paste and cutting it into thirds for the three of them to eat. 

Claude cast his senses, Warp-related and not to ensure that they weren’t being listened to. Glad that no one was, either through technology or warpy senses he lets go of his crackling humming power and focuses on Cedric’s words. He takes a bite of food to keep the spots of darkness out of his vision.

“Tech-Marine Castiel of the Black Templars was killed earlier today, at the hands of Chaplain Captain Petras. When Tech Marine Castiel became aware that he was going to die, as there was no one to intercede on his behalf, he sent me all of the information he had on the chaplain in question, sending it on a delay to hopefully not arouse suspicion from his murderer.” Cedric revealed, doing his best to keep his voice a low, emotionless monotone. He failed spectacularly, as his voice cracked. He paused, taking a sip from one of the glasses of lemonade before continuing “Brother Mattias of the Black Templars is currently in surgery due to the complications from the beating he received, allegedly from Chaplain Petras, according to the Hydra who brought him into the clinic late last night.”  

“God Emperor curse him,” Ramiel swears softly, before flinching as he realizes the words that had come out of his mouth. “He’s… Perhaps not escalating, but he’s continuing to do what he did back in M42.”

“... He knows he died for Challenging the High Marshal,” Claude says with a frown, his eyes flashing teal as he thinks “... For killing and purging Primaris… and he’s…doing it here when Astartes number far fewer. He’s … not likely to change his ways.”

“Ramiel, I have asked Pallius and Olivar, but I will with-hold their votes until you tell me what you want to do. Should we come forward to certain firstborn marines, and tell them about what Petras has done, both in M42, and on Ancient Terra, or would you rather we handle this ourselves?” Cedric asked, his voice shaking a little, but stubborn ferocity beat in his chest. He would deal with this fucker, one way or the other.

Ramiel reaches over- carefully telegraphing his movements as he gives his brother a side hug. Claude is on Cedric’s other side and does the same thing. The three of them gently hugged each other for a moment. Ramiel gathers his thoughts, which is hard because they keep scattering in a thousand-thousand different directions as he thinks over the other’s words. 

“I think,” Ramiel says, his voice cracking a little, he coughs and then takes a sip of the lemonade laced with hydration rations, “I think, we should go to the First borns, see what they do… if it’s … unsatisfactory …. We can… handle him after the fact.”

Cedric side-hugs Ramiel back, trembling a little with the force of the emotions running rampant within him. He focuses on Claude “You mentioned that the Night Lords spoke of how Astartes dealt Justice in this time period? Please explain to the best of your abilities. Your answers will help me decide whether or not I will come forward with the information to whoever I’m supposed to in an official capacity… Or if I just ask Arnault and Roland if he would please help me murder a bastard. They are both already aware of Petras’ crimes in M42 and swore to kill him.” Their vehement and immediate declarations of Murder had been… Cedric swallowed a little. They had been more gratifying than the young Apothecary had wanted to admit.

“So Khopesh and the Claw of Night Lords knows about why certain… First Born Brothers in M42 don’t like us… And they find that reasoning stupid, foolish and wasteful. Claude nods, “That- actually is one method of Justice that the rest of the chapter’s can’t mess with. Justice for crimes done, unless it’s inter-chapter stuff, or there is a request to intercede on the behalf of the victims, is done in-chapter. Unless their crimes are bad enough that an Example needs to be made.”

Claude gathers his thoughts and pulls out the data slate and reads the notes he’d taken, the conversation that he had with Khopesh. He hands the data slate over so they can read about Hunting- and how the worst of the Astarte criminals, like serial killers, are handed over to the Night Lords, which is one of the worst punishments that can happen to a person. How the Hunt is declared- what happens during it, and after.

“There is a precedent,” Claude says, licking his lips a little, “where if an Astarte is killing other Astarte- that their Chapter, at first are the ones to handle them, but if for whatever reason they can’t or won’t… They tend to be handed over to the Night Lords. I… uh… asked some Questions- and Khopesh seemed… excited about the idea of a Hunt. I think… no, I know he reported the conversation we had about Justice and Punishment to the Claw Leader- Anrir, who’s an Apothecary- who’s older than Hura.”

“... Petras wasn’t the only one killing Primaris Marines in M42. Nor was he the only Firstborn Black Templar to be doing so.” Cedric murmured, his voice low and quiet. “As much as I want… As much as I want to raise bolter and blade against the fucker myself, alongside whoever else wants to kill him. I don’t… I don’t think that simply killing Petras will ensure long-term protection of our fellow Primaris Marines. I will ask Arnault and Roland their opinions on this… But…”

“There are other punishments,” Claude says, “They talked about.. Flaying… among other things. Some. Very graphic descriptions that I won’t go into detail about right now, as well as having the people who were hurt by the person, to either participate in the person’s punishment actively, or have a hand in deciding how they are punished. There is, unfortunately, a need to gather evidence and proof of crimes more than verbal witness evidence.”

“Would the recorded audio-visual recordings of a now-murdered marine be enough evidence?” Cedric asked bluntly. 

“... Will you allow me to ask Khopesh that?” Claude says, “I think so- but I’d need his opinion, he’s been here longer, and knows more about Justice and the legal framework that the Astartes have developed here.”

Cedric nodded “Go for it. You’re the one with contact with him.”

Claude sends Khopesh a vox text [Please don't run to Anrir or the others about this quite yet. But hypothetically, if Ced- er someone had Audio/visual proof about Cas- er I mean, someone else, HYPOTHETICALLY being murdered by Pet- er a third someone else, that is currently,  hypothetically on Ancient Terra right now, and has a history of murdering primaris marines, what would happen? And this person that hypothetically nearly murdered Mat- I mean someone else as well.]

Khopesh hears a pinging noise and looks down at his vox, he can’t stop the grin that grows on his face and thinks to himself, ‘Bingo!’

“You seem pleased, something good?” Ghosk notes, lightly pressing the younger member of the Claw for more information if the other wanted to share.

“... Not yet- but soon. Hopefully.” Khopesh says. He’s not going to tell Anrir or the other members of the Claw yet. Per Claude’s request, for now. But finally. He’s glad that Claude is finally trusting them, or at least him more. 

“Alright,” Ghosk replies with a nod. “Keep in mind we can only back you up if we know what’s going on.”

“Yes Ghosk,” Khopesh says with a nod. He does send a message back to Claude. [A Primaris Killer- or an Astarte killer, like the one you texted me about would be setting himself up for execution. Especially if he has a heinous list of crimes and it’s clear that he’s not stopping.]

Claude responds swiftly to the message [Thank you for the information.]

Khopesh sends another message to Claude that [you all can argue for the Primaris killer being an ongoing and unremorseful threat. So they can Hopefully get the maximum punishment of execution by Night Lords. Or depending on the Chapter preferred executioners.]

[Thank you for that- so far as we know, he’s only gone after Black Templars.] Claude responds. [Knowing him… he might escalate to other Primaris if he comes across them. He’s got a nasty temper.]

[But even without that. The chapter the murderer is a part of would be Heavily pressured to either remove their own bad actor, or turn him over so he can be removed.]  Khopesh sends the message to Claude, and he is getting excited.

Khopesh is excited that Claude trusts them more, And that he'll soon be able to talk to Anrir and the others about getting a proper Hunt going. Ghosk waved at the younger Night Lord as he watched the younger one leave, wondering what was going on.

But patience...Patience! Like Anrir always says. He feels like he's vibrating- and is glad that he moved out of where the rest of the Claw are- because they would see the expression on his face and demand to see his communicator to know what’s going on.

A thought suddenly strikes Khopesh and the excitement dims a little and he sends another message- a very Anrir thought as he remembers watching the older Night Lord work and talk to others and sends another message, [I won't tell Anrir without your permission....But I also don't want you and your brothers to be in active danger. I have enough on my rotted conscience, so if things get bad. Please don't make me live with staying quiet. For however terrifying he might be. Anrir wants to help you, Claude. We all do. But we can't Do that unless you Tell us what we need to know. Information Is Warfare isn't it?]

Khopesh hopes he isn’t pushing Claude too much, but this is need to know information, and the fact that the youngest member of his Claw was talking about things in more specific detail was Important. Especially with that fucking bastard of a Raven Captain- that they are helping him handle as well.

[Could you send me a copy of the evidence that you and your brother-cousins have?] Khopesh sends, [The evidence that can be submitted to the Alliance, it will help clinch the Hunt to being declared.]

Khopesh has an excited blood thirsty expression on his face- and he is moving around pacing back and forth. He’s so tempted to try and find out where Claude is to rush over and talk, and see if he can get more answers out of him and the other Primaris Marines.

His excitement cools down and he shakes his head as he rereads one of the messages, [wait- no, if the message gets intercepted, they’d need a backup of it to show the Alliance.]

[Cedric and Ramiel say they want to talk with you in person.] Claude sends, [we are at the park nearby the Loyalist base on Cherry lane and main street. Could you come by and speak with us? Things… might be escalating.]

[I’ll be there as soon as I can] Khopesh responds and tries not to run to where Claude and the others are. He’s. really excited. The Primaris Marines are trusting them with this! And they- hopefully will help get the Primaris Marines to have Justice prevail and have a Hunt. It has been so long since they have been able to Hunt.

Khopesh tries to calm down and sees the way that Claude, Cedric, and Ramiel are sitting around a table, there is a quaint looking picnic- clever, make a serious meeting look like something more innocent, clever, clever boys. After the explanation they give, the video is shown and he watches it in full.

"You have footage of one of your battle brothers murders? Fantastic!” Khopesh says.

Cedric stills for a moment. The sheer visceral excitement radiating off of the Night Lord is off-putting to say the least. He briefly glances at Claude. What the fuck? He thinks particularly loudly at his witch-adjacent Brother-cousin. “... I find the joy you show in the death of another marine to be… Unsettling.”

Ramiel’s jaw clenches and blue eyes spark with rage and his hands clenched into fists and Claude jumps in before either of his cousins could smack the crap out of Khopesh, “ the translation "I'm excited we'll soon get to avenge your fallen and deliver Justice!" Not I’m happy your brother is dead.”

Claude very much understands what the former sounds like, and it had been shocking to hear such things, but he had learned how to understand Night Lords and the way they speak. He especially knows Khopesh better, having interacted with him a lot more than his brother-cousins, to keep them from getting too mad at the First Born Night Lord.

Khopesh calms down a little, realizing how callous that sounded, especially since this person is a threat- likely to them personally, as well as to others and apologies, “Sorry- that came out wrong. It really sucks that your brother is dead. I’m excited to be able to help you with this mess. That video- it’s Key Evidence in getting your tormentor put down, or whatever punishment you think is best.”

Cedric pauses for a moment before sending a copy of Castiel's dying video to the Night Lord. “Here is what he sent me. He timed it so hopefully his murderer wouldn't realize he was being recorded. Given the fact that Petras beat another Primaris marine to the point Mattias is currently in surgery now… The Chaplain must be nearby.”

Khopesh is a mixture of emotions, and his trembling a little as he tucks his hands behind his back as his hands clenched into fists. He’s a mixture of Excitement and Rage. How dare that bastard, Petras, go after the Primaris. 

Claude asks him, “What do you think of it?”

"I'm thinking I'd start with flaying Just the fingers! Then I'd yank the phalanges out one by one, on the right hand.” Khopesh starts, “For the left I'd Act like I was going to do the same, then snap the arm and force him to Bite Off his own fingers so the hands would Match-"

Part of Cedric was mildly Disgusted by Khopesh starting to explain what he would do to The bastard. The rest of him wanted to let the deranged Night Lord continue.

"About this Video as Evidence! Khopesh! How is the quality of the evidence!?" Ramiel interrupts.

"Oh right! Sorry...like I said it's fantastic as evidence. It clearly shows the perpetrator, goes decently in depth about his crimes, includes the bastards own fucking vileness on display and though it may sound tactless. Your deceased brother's testimony is something the Alliance will not be able to ignore. It may seem... disingenuous, but the pain and outrage you feel should be Used. It will show the tribunal that these crimes Must be Answered for, Your brother's lives not spent in Vain!" Khopesh says his eyes blazing with emotion and passion. "You never should have had to seek out this justice. Your elder brothers should have taken you beneath their wings, Like Anrir did for us!"

Cedric shifted a little, feeling the need to defend the firstborn Templar brothers who actually gave a damn about him and his Brothers. “A couple of our older Brothers have taken us in. Arnault and Roland have done their best to care for and protect us. As soon as they became peripherally aware of a threat to us that we hadn't told them about they would try and press for explanations. When… I told them earlier this week about Petras when Mattias was first brought in for treatment. They intended to kill the Chaplain, and said as much.” 

Khopesh paces around the table, prowling as he continues his rant, this explains why Claude and the others could be so stars- damned jumpy. Why Claude was so slow to trust- slow to allow himself Anrir and the other’s protections. 

Afraid of what being put under the protection of an older brother means accepting they have some power over you- and seeing and hearing that his cousins were murdered by shit head- and Claude and others getting beaten… yeah no. He’d be reluctant to give up any freedoms, even if it would help in some ways.

"But that's not the path this...Petras bastard chose. He Chose and by the looks of it continues to Choose to harm his own Battle Brothers, and worst! Those He should be responsible for." Khopesh says. "He is the worst type of Predatory, Vile, Rotten Bastard! And he Deserves to answer for his crimes. Your brothers, your fallen, deserve to have him Answer for his crimes."

"Let Us help you present this evidence Claude. Let the Claw help you and your brothers..." Khopesh doesn't use Your Claw as he feels it might push too hard and cause Claude to retreat. 

Instead Khopesh uses The Claw, still implying that Claude is a part of it, but leaving it up to interpretation. Avoiding Our Claw or My Claw as those could distinctly put Claude outside it, which is not true, and he doesn’t want to have Claude feel alienated, fuck the poor kid has had that done to him back in M42, him and his brothers.

Cedric, Ramiel, and Claude get an urgent text vox message from Jophiel it reads  [I’ve got a wounded Black Templar Primaris Marine. Near the stone outcropping two hours in the forest west of Gannet point. I’m stalling Petras- the fucker is Insane. Please help. Or send help. He’s threatening to kill me and Sariel. He knows about the Alliance rules, he just doesn’t fucking care.]

Cedric stood up, and swore under his breath, looking at Khopesh. “While you’re not the firstborn Brother who I’d choose to ask for help, you’re already here and I don’t know how long we have before the situation gets worse. We just received a call for help from Jophiel, a Primaris marine. He’s trying to keep another Primaris Marine alive and is facing Petras without help. We need Petras restrained now. If you mean your words, come and help us.” With that, Cedric took off at his top speed towards where Jophiel had pinged his location, texting back [I am coming! Delay him as long as you can!]

[I will do my best.] Jophiel responds.

He then messaged Arnault and Roland at the same time [Petras is attacking someone at this location. If you are able and willing, please help me keep him from murdering more Primaris marines.]

He gets an immediate response from both Arnault and Roland. Roland answered first. [On my way.]

Arnault answered [Will be there soon. Stay safe and be smart.]

His hearts drop to his stomach when he sees Jophiel on the ground, wings broken, and Petras standing over him. A Crusade of Black Templars and a dead Primaris Black Templar.

"You bastard!" Claude hears Cedric hiss as he chases after his charging Black Templar Brother cousins.

The closer they get to Petras and his Crusade, Cedric suddenly drops to Jophie's side- realizing the other is alive. "Why did you drug him? Break his wings?"

"He went mad," Petras says, "And he killed the Primaris Black Templar."

"LIAR!" Claude hears Cedric bellow. "Jophie is many things a brother killer, he is not."

"His blade is bloodied, and killed the Black Templar," Petras counteracts, telling the truth.

Khopesh has approached Jophiel and is messing with the younger Space Marine's helmet and lets out a dark chuckle and says, "You fool- Jophiel was recording the conversation he had with you."

"... what?" Petras says, sounding caught off guard.

Khopesh gives him a cruel smile and flips the helmet and projects the truth of the matter- Jophiel confronting Petras- who reveals his true cruelty.

How Jophiel tried to escape Petras at first- and only fought him after he'd broken his wings and made it so that escape wasn't likely. How Petras was the one to kill the Primaris Marine- using Jophiel's own weapon.

The looks of shock and horror and disappointment and disgust on the faces of Petras's Crusade have them circling around Petras- rather than trying to defend him.

Petras scowls, realizing that the jig is up and he taunts, "So- you know I have killed two of your disgusting Abominations."

"We are not abominations," Ramiel says tremulously, shaking, terrified, but wanting to stand against the bastard that murdered him in M42. "You are- you m-murdered me and a dozen of our brothers in M42- and have killed at least two of us here!"

Cedric moves closer to Ramiel, standing so that he is half in front of his terrified Brother, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he glowers at Petras. 

"Ah, so you have only found two of my victims," Petras taunts. "The souls of my other victims will never know peace because the location of their bodies will die with me."

"Who says that we will kill you here and now?" Khopesh says slyly, "After all- death is what you will get, but oh- how you should suffer before you die!"

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

In the version of Husbandry where Astarte and Humans actually reproduce, do you think the reason no one clues into that is because the warp is once again tampering with people's perception.

"Oh did you hear? Jessie is pregnant!"

"That's great! But... I didn't realize she was dating someone. Did she introduced the dad?"

"Ah well no, but I'm not too worried."

"Oh, why's that?"

"Well she's got her Space Marine to help her out. Oh I wish you'd see her, she was Gushing about happy she was, and how excited they both were. The big fella looked pretty proud too. I'm sure he'll be a great mom helper."

"Uh-huh...yep...number 1 mom helper...hey...are you Certain they're not Y'know..."

!💫!

"...Uh...what were we talking about?"

"I....don't know....I Think it had something to do with Jess?"

"Oh yeah! Didn't you hear? Jessie is pregnant!"

(That or people or people are treating it like some kind of shameful open secret...which its not but its still funny.)

"How Dare!!! You WOULD INSINUATE! That My daughter would- Would have relations! With a Space Marine!!!"

"She literally tagged their beach photos, 'Best Day Ever with my Boo 💋 💘!'"

@kit-williams @barn-anon @sleepyfan-blog @egrets-not-regrets @bleedingichorhearts

Hope ya'll enjoy.

[kit-williams]

Husbandry Angron part 2

Part 2 to this fic

For @egrets-not-regrets for helping me here is your reward for helpin me.

@liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Thank you @squishyowl for the dividers

Dozens of apothecaries and human brain surgeons were there in the large surgery room in the base, curtesy of the Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists making it in such a short amount of time. Waiting in the wings were flesh crafter sorcerers as there was little chance for failure as this was a primarch. They had to try their best as they were going in blind.

With his skull cap removed they could see the mess... "Jesus Christ." A surgeon said looking at the mess... a mess of wires and brain matter barely holding together.

"Um, is... is his skull cap growing back?" Another human said noticing how the bone was slowly stitching itself back together and regrowing.

"Yes it is." the head apothecarian said walking up and taking a look as he was in full armor, "Get the flesh crafters on standby." The chaos space marine ordered as why he was head surgeon? He had worked with the consortium.

The humans were the ones who were mostly going to be working on the primarch given their small deft hands could be delicate in this situation. Hours dragged on and metal was removed leaving gaping holes in his brain to which the sorcerers and his own natural healing factor worked hard to repair. This meticulous surgery pushed the limits of what was thought possible for both humans and Astartes... they were dealing with a Primarch and whatever genetic monstrosity it meant to be a primarch curtosey of the Emperor. Several powerful sorcerers sat around the building all pooling the warp and keeping it stable so that the flesh crafters could utilize it with ease.

Apothecarians all communicated on the private vox channel when the humans would pause having to remove the regrowing skull cap or when they were stumped on how to remove a particularly tricky nail. Oh there was one from each legion, minus the World Eaters, sometimes there were even two from the same legion; one a traitor and the other a loyalist. But, outside the building were gathering war hounds and world eaters... they gathered like lost dogs just limping their way here... all there and all silently hoping...

Angron opened his eyes as he could hear the gentle click of knitting needles and a calm beat of a heart he knew over the white noise that the dozens of medical machines had become. He sat up looking toward the click of the needles...

"Welcome back." Your soft voice greeted his ears as there was a gentle smile on your lip, "It's been a few days and in that time, let me tell you, I've met more space marines than I've ever seen." You say as you put down your project. You wait a couple of beats and your smile falters as Angron continues to sit there, "They..." He could hear your swallow, "They said there might be..." again you swallow doing your best to stay strong, "unknown side effects." You finally walk closer, looking up at him as your tiny hand rests on his, "Angron?" You say softly.

For Angron... he was overwhelmed by the fact that there was no longer any pain... his mind rushing trying to think of how to react and interact when there was no pain at the base of it all. He picked you up and held you close, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, as large tears rushed down his face. Words... oh so many of his brothers were good with words in any occasion by here words would do him little good. As Angron wept in joy... joy... he could finally feel another emotion again without pain after so long.

The devourer of worlds... the warlords of madness and bloodshed... so many of them subjected themselves to the nails but now... so many of them came to get them removed. Feral Astartes came to get them out. As once more they came to him like a dog to follow their father. A legion of beaten dogs they were... but they were dogs who could still wag their tails.

[rufus-made-flesh]

Introducing Gadriel pretty pretty boy I love him

[mycrayolamarkers]

Someone coming out of their room after gaming in a dark room all night just to get blinded by a blood angel / custodes cooking them breakfast with the windows open.

[littledarknesgold]

Delusional

Warnings: yandere, mention of murders, persecution, obsession, possession, description of something unpleasant, somnophilia, non-consensual sex, mention of impregnation, smut.

Heavy hips rose and fell carefully, trying to contain the desire to speed up the pace, but he couldn’t do that otherwise his owner would wake up and then his plan wouldn’t work.

The Astartes bit his lip, clutching the sheet with his hands, suppressing moans and sobs full of lust.

He couldn't risk this chance to finally get what he had wanted for a long time.

The sheets beneath him became damp and covered in a sticky whitish liquid - a symbol of his love and devotion to his human.

He had never wanted it so much with anyone other than his human. He had purposefully rejected other Astartes even when in heat. His netro yearned for his true mate.

Unable to contain the last impulse, a deeper groan escaped from his throat, and a new portion of semen covered the sleeping human's stomach, but even this noise did not wake him. The Space Marine chuckled. This was the result he was looking for, the sleeping pill was working, that was a good sign.

Having cleaned up a bit and hidden the traces of his crime, he curled up around his man, purring like a contented, well-fed cat.

He buried his nose in his human's hair, closing his eyes and already imagining his master's surprise when the Marilenlings were born in a couple of months.

Art belongs to this author: @vthestalker

And thanks again for this to my best assistant in the world)

[grim-dark-confusion]

WIBTA If I took down my Word Bearer’s Shrine?

@egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams

warnings: implied stalking behavior

Long time lurker, first time poster. This is a throwaway account, in case someone tries to doxx me or whatever. I know that the title is a little iffy, but please hear me out! I need help and advice, not judgment and mean comments.

So! Some details about what’s going on: Be me, normal baseline human, early thirties.

Be not me: 9ft tall, huge buff chaos Word Bearer who crash landed in my garden three months ago.

Be also not me: the neighbor’s Ultramarine. Also Big, but less fucked up looking. 

Three months ago I became the unwilling… Host? Friend? Minder? Of a Chaos Word Bearer. He crash landed in my back garden about three months ago. He was in pretty bad shape when I came home from work at dusk. I thought he was dead, honestly.

Then I did something stupid, and approached an injured CSM I didn’t know. Please don’t yell at me for being stupid, I’ve heard it all before. But I genuinely thought he was dead! And I poked his hoof-foot-boot thing with a stick.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when his foot twitched and did scream a little. Augustus heard me (neighbor’s Ultramarine) and came running.

I don’t know if the Chaos Word Bearer had just been sleeping since he crashed in my garden, or if the presence of a loyalist just woke him up on instinct, but as soon as Augustus crossed the property boundaries, Metrik (CWB) was up on his feet and growling. He was shaking and he was favoring one of his legs pretty badly.

Then I did something else stupid…

I stepped between Auggie and Metrik, telling Augustus to back off a little. That the CWB hadn’t done anything to hurt me, and that I’d just been surprised that he was… You know… Not dead. Augustus grumbled a little but backed off and went back to his home to sulk.

After that I called the local apothecary asking for them to come check him over. While I was waiting for them to get to my home, I grabbed my first aid kit and patched him up. Of course I used gloves, as I had no idea where he’d been, nor what he’d been doing. He didn’t speak any English of course, but my phone was able to use a translator app and we were able to get by with it’s version of Astartes-speak.

I.. Uhm. May have made another mistake and fed him. BUt he said he was hungry and he’d taken off his helmet and was giving me big sad golden brown eyes and what else was I supposed to do? I fed him a pack of hot dogs and brought him a pitcher of water.

THe app said that he was grateful for my hospitality. THe apothecary showed up and they bundled him off. I had thought that would be the end of it…

Then three weeks later, CWB - whose name he told me then was Metrik - asked if he could repay my kindness and helping with the damage he did to my garden. I agreed, not thinking much of it at the time.

Whiiich is how I ended up with a very large and pointy roommate. Which is whatever, as Metrik is pretty clean and nice! Even if he does have growl-contests with Augustus over the fence.

Yesterday I was doing a deep-clean of the house and found that someone - probably Metrik - built a shrine to me. In the basement of my own house. It looks like it’s been there for a while. There are pictures of me sleeping and at work from angles that make me very uncomfortable.

I don’t. I don’t know what to do. I really want to take it down because it feels creepy but I’m worried that it will set Metrik off. I’ve heard that CWB don’t take kindly to their altars being disturbed but. Uhhhh. 

Yeah. Help! ;A;