#templar scum

[faroresson]

Reaver: Turning your Warrior into a Blood Mage :)

[vivplayseverything]

"Average Warhammer 40k player is far-right" is a statistical error. Black Templars georg who screams deus vult 40 times daily and calls actual humans "filthy mutant" and "xenos scum" is an outlier adn should not have been counted.

[vigilskeep]

i cant believe they used the tits out men’s mage robes model for inquisition but gave it a big scarf to cover the tits. haters. cowards. templar scum. etc

[teecupangel]

Been learning about animals again and I came across the Dunkleosteus. For some reason I think it's kinda cute so I wanna see how Desmond would act as that (and possibly some mauling-)

For those unfamiliar with how a Dunkleosteus looks like, here’s the estimate of its sizes and a reconstruction of how it could possible look like:

It seems Dunkleosteus is most native to America (although it’s also possible there were some in Europe?) so a Dunkleosteus Desmond could easily make contact with Ratonhnhaké:ton but you know what would be fun?

If he makes contact with the Colonial Brotherhood before its fall instead…

He’s just living his best fish life, maybe wondering if there is any real reason why he became a fish? Maybe a big brain plan from Min-

…

He’s a fish.

Naaahhh.

Is it strange that he was bigger than most fishes?

Of course.

But he was simply going to ignore that.

Then… one day, Desmond’s calm peaceful (boring) waters suddenly grew noisy.

Okay, ‘suddenly’ was the wrong word to use.

The noises started far away but continued to come closer and closer until whoever were making those noises were right on top of him.

He heard the word ‘Assassin scum!’ and grew curious so he swam upwards.

Just to see what was happening, of course (or so he would tell himself).

Unfortunately, he had gotten so used to his new body and the peacefulness of the waters that he… accidentally! … smacked the little rickety boat with his fin while he was making his way to poke his head out of the water for a moment.

The Templar lost his footing while the Assassin managed to grab hold of the boat’s side after falling to their knees and Desmond (just so happened!) had his mouth opened and uuuhh…

He might have accidentally chomped off the Templar’s upper half???

Desmond felt so disgusted that he immediately threw it back up though!

And… it kinda sorta… fell back onto the ship where the Assassin remained staring at him with wide eyes and a pale complexion.

Understanding he must have traumatized the Assassin, he just… plopped back down to the deepest part of the waters…

… was there an underwater equivalent of a toothpaste around here?

.

.

.

A few months later, Desmond hears a few noises once more and swims closer to check what was happening.

This time, he made sure to not hit the boat with any part of his body nor did he swim above water to peek!

Hearing them clearly is fine at this point, considering the trauma he and that poor Assassin had to endure.

“Alright, here’s the first one! Careful not to rock the boat too much!”

“If you’re so worried, how about you come help!?”

“Someone has to keep the boat steady, ya fool!”

“Oh, and it has nothing to do with you vomiti-”

Their conversation was interrupted by a big splashing sound and…

Desmond stared as the corpse of a clearly dead… absolutely dead… man started to drop deeper and deeper into the waters.

“Why’s Miss Jensen having us drop these here anyway?”

“They’re all Miss Jensen’s family’s enemies. Remember? The ones she calls Templars?”

Another body dropped onto the waters, its empty eyes seemingly staring at Desmond as it slowly drop to the depths.

“Aye, I remember that. I’m asking why we traveled here to drop them?”

“I heard that fish saved Miss Jensen one time. They say she wants to feed the fish who saved her.”

Another body dropped and Desmond think it’s high time he just goes away, further away from all these corpses.

Some of the other fishes would probably eat them.

Maybe???

As Desmond began to swim away, he heard the men continue to converse, even though the one of them was slightly out of breath with all the corpses he was dropping (no wonder they were using a bigger boat than the one Desmond saw last time).

“That doesn’t sound like Miss Jensen.”

“Of course not. Miss Jensen says there’s a big fish here that likes to eat human so this is the perfect place to take care of the ‘remains.”

“Oh, that sounds more like her.”

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Pondered

Author’s note: More of Husbandry AU with Draco. Thank you to @kit-williams for letting me borrow Roland and his Bonded human. Becky is the non-cannon name for Roland's Bonded.

Summary: Draco continues to be a dick.

Warnings: None? Let me know if I need to add anything.

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

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

Tagged: @felinisnoctis , @undeaddream

Draco ponders his next steps, getting the information out of that Hydra's head had helped clear certain things up for him. While he longs to purge Holy Ancient Terra of the filth and scum that plague the surface because of the Chaos Bastards on it, it would be too dangerous to do so at this point.

And that grox shite treaty that the Loyalists had made with the Chaos and Renegade traitors due to a lack of resources and worrying about irreparable harm done to Ancient Terra... are some actually legitimate concerns.

However- one of the individuals that had been in the mind of that Hydra- that small Warp Bond that was between that Hydra's squad and that human. Hm... He wants to research more about those Bond things.

Best way to do that is meet a human that he knows is Bonded and see what he can see. His lips twist up in a smile at that- there was something... warm, that purrs in his chest when he thinks about that Lana- that the Hydras are confusing into allowing them into her life.

So he goes to her place of business- a bakery, he'd acquired some local currency, and from what he'd gotten from the mind of that Hydra he'd interrogated she should be working at this time of day.

That human Lana- who works for another Bonded human who runs the Bakery- spots his massive silver form and ducks in the back. Ah- right, she's Bonded to a Black Templar. Brother Roland, who scowls up at the Uber witch.

The boys had told him and Arnault in bits and pieces about this Gray Knight- and how he'd torment their witch-cursed brothers and call it 'training'. Also how this particular one tried to kidnap Jophiel and Claude.

"What do you want to buy for food," Roland says roughly scowling at Captain Storm Breaker.

"Some of the sweet breads and savory breads," Draco responds pulling out some of the local currency.

"Once you do, leave," Roland says.

"How rude, for someone who you've never met," Draco points out.

"You are a witch," Roland hisses, his blue eyes fever bright- as his hands clench into fists, "be glad I don't strike you down."

"You aren't powerful enough to kill me," Draco sneers down at Roland, "I am a paying customer at the moment, so get the food."

Lana is serving customers- and keeping an eye on Roland and the new Astarte- noticing the way they seem to be getting more and more tense and while she doesn't really know much High Gothic she can tell they might come to blows.

Lana ducks in and calls out, "Becky, Roland looks like he's about to punch someone."

"What?" Becky says sounding surprised as she ducks out of the kitchen and looks the body language of Roland and- that really large silver armored Space Marine. "oh dear."

Lana grabs a mix of sweet and savory breads and nervously approaches the pair of Space Marines. She can almost taste something like ozone coming off of the larger space marine, who's head snaps over to look at her.

"Hello, sir," Lana says a little nervously, "do you want to try some of our baked goods?"

"I would," Draco says, for some reason he feels drawn to this human.

Roland is watching him through narrowed eyes. Draco tastes some of the baked goods and buys the lot on the plate and heads out of the door.

[malev0lent-entity]

next up on the hazbin hotel redesign train is Lute and, by extension, the exorcists as a unit. The original exorcist uniform sucks, to put it bluntly. It really doesn't convey the idea of an indestructible angelic warrior. Here's a summery of my changes.

brightened up the color palette to better fit in with heaven and contrast against hell. they want the demon scum to know exactly what they're up against.

based the uniform off the knights templar, though made of cloth and not plate armor. They believe they're unkillable, why would they need it? the full body coverage instead serves to hide the individual exorcist's identity.

complete mask overhaul. the horns have been replaced with wings over the eyes. the black portion of the mask asks as both a voice changer (to hide identity) and air filter (hell is gross and they don't want to breath that). There's a veil over the back of the head

gave lute some casual clothes, as there's no reason for her to be walking around in her uniform if it's supposed to be secret.

[egrets-not-regrets]

Guesthouse of the (Lost) Astartes: To Render Aid (3)

Erriox and Lenora provide aid to a lost chaos space marine and his young bonded human.

Dialogue spoken in the Gothic language are bolded and italicized.

Author's Note: This is part 3 in a multi-part story: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.

It is not the end yet. 😅 We get to meet some more characters though!

This story focuses on the relationship of a chaos space marine who is intensely bonded to his human and touches upon the issue with Black Templars bonding with humans.

Also, Erriox is a responsible space marine and does responsible things. And no, he definitely does not do it for his bonded human's approval.

Thank you @squishyowl for making the fic dividers! Also thanks @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Sirass.

Tagged:

@kit-williams, @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @shadowfirecat, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan,

@sleepyfan-blog, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @bispecsual

Tunes from the radio played quietly in the truck while Lenora drove through the snowy landscape. Her eyes scanned for signs of their bonded Astartes occasionally. They should be halfway there, she thought, judging from the familiar landmarks they passed by. Once they hit the S-curve in the road, the next turn at the intersection would be a clear shot straight to the base. And that was a well-built road too.

“Do you think my mom would still want me back?” Ben asked, forlorn and unsure.

Lenora eyed her passenger strangely, “Now why would you think that?”

“She stopped showing up a month ago. It’s like she disappeared!”

Ben continued, “I don’t know how to contact her. My friends tried to help me find her online, but someone snitched to my dad.” He ended with a growl.

“Ben, do not believe for a second that your mom doesn’t want you!” Lenora replied, feeling a wave of protectiveness well up inside, “She tried to meet you before, right?”

“Yeah…” Ben nodded, his voice quiet, “She used to wait for me after school before my dad came to pick me up.”

“Did she say where she was living?” Lenora pressed on.

“She said something about outside the Fortress? Something about where the kingfisher lives?”

Where the kingfisher lives? Huh… Lenora thought, trying to piece together the clues. She knew several locations where kingfishers nested outside of Steelix Fortress, but those are still multiple areas to narrow down. Maybe Ben’s mom meant that figuratively…

A knock on her window drew her attention. She looked and breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar figure running next to them. Erriox signalled for her to keep going. She smiled and nodded, putting her foot to the pedal to speed up.

*********

Elsewhere, the snowstorm died down as Malaran ran westward from the trail end. It wasn’t long before he heard the familiar heavy footfalls of another Astartes following him. He knew it was the Black Templar. At least this meant their plan had worked for now. He easily crossed the trenches following the Iron Warrior’s instructions and pressed on. It was tempting to turn around and fight the Black Templar, but his need to reunite with his bonded youngling weighed heavier on his mind. Malaran chuckled when he heard a stumble and fall behind him.

He was about to turn to follow the southwest road when he dodged to one side, a bolter shot just grazing his armour. Malaran turned around, firing back at the offending Astartes.

“Return the boy, chaos scum!” Came the Black Templar’s voice.

The Black Legionnaire snorted as he hurled the bundle he held at the other space marine. The templar rushed forward to catch the bundle only to watch the backpack and heat packs fall to the ground as the cape unravelled in the air. He roared, unsheathing his power sword, “You… and the Iron traitor! Where did you hide the boy?!”

“You don’t deserve to know, corpse worshipper!” Malaran bellowed as he clashed with the Templar, his chain axe revving. He couldn’t resist the Khornate pull for an exhilarating battle. His blood sang savagery and bloodthirst into his ears. It was a good night for a fight.

***********

It was uneventful as Erriox followed Lenora’s truck for the first hour or so. On the one hand, he was thankful that it had been uneventful as Lenora and Ben were able to safely drive through the snowstorm, but now that the storm died down… it was too quiet.

Erriox knew that something went awry. His feeling was only confirmed when heard the footsteps of the Black Templar running toward them. He quickly turned and ran towards the other Astartes to cut him off. Alarms raised in his head when he saw the raised bolter. Erriox fired a shot, hitting the Templar’s gun, throwing off his aim and drawing his attention to him instead.

*************

Lenora pressed her truck to speed forward, trying hard to ignore the sounds of the gunfire and Ben’s whimpers. Then it went quiet. Fear gripped her heart, what if Erriox… Ben looked at the side view mirror and yelled, startling Lenora out of her thoughts, “It’s the asshole!”

At any other time, Lenora would have laughed at that sudden statement. She glanced at her rear view mirror and felt the cold rush of dread down her spine. It was the Black Templar. Despite what looked like obvious injuries, he was gaining on them. Fast.

The S-curve was coming up soon.

With a surprising burst of speed, the Black Templar pounced on them. Ben screamed.

“Hang on!” Lenora shouted as she accelerated and steered into the sharp turn, swinging the truck end just out of the templar’s reach, drifting the curve of the road, and counter steering the other way to straighten out the truck again.

Erriox’s hearts nearly froze at the sight of the truck careening out of control on the snow-covered road before correcting its course. He raced towards the templar again, seeing his arm about to throw his combat blade, tackling him just in time to throw off its trajectory.

“Dagger!” Ben screamed as he saw the glint of the weapon leaving the templar’s hand.

“Head down!” she yelled back.

Can’t worry about that now! Lenora thought, gritting her teeth as she desperately focused on making it through the next turn at high speed. Both her and Ben screamed as the blade thunked into the truck, embedding deep into the truck chassis.

The Iron Warrior saw red, how dare this Imperial Fist knock-off try to kill his bonded! He stabbed his chain sword into the templar’s body, hearing the satisfying grunt of pain as his blade cracked through the armour bit into flesh. The power sword flashed as the Black Templar swung down. Erriox dodged, but not before the sword left a deep score in his pauldron. Both Astartes stood and charged at each other again, their blades clashing.

“Iron traitor! You and your brother will pay for your sins! He was not yours to take!” The Black Templar accusation was laden with ire and venom,

“It was none of our business until they made it so! This would not have happened if you treated the boy better!” Erriox reproached him.

“This one is mine!” The Black Templar suddenly turned as Malaran’s roaring dark form came swinging down with his axe, crashing against the power sword.

**********

“It’s Orca!” Ben exclaimed, his excitement soon waning to worry as he noticed the slightly unbalanced movements of his bonded Astartes.

Lenora glanced at the rearview mirror at the three battling titans as the truck sped forward. It was easy to forget how dangerous space marines actually were with how gently Erriox treated her in the time they’ve been together. Moments like these served a stark reminder at how vulnerable humans were compared to the Astartes. Like great predators in a sea of fish. She shivered, her hands white-knuckling onto the steering wheel. Hopefully the Black Templar was the only one they had to worry about.

“Will they be ok?” Ben’s worried voice piped up.

Lenora gave him a strained smile, “They will be.” They have to be, she prayed to whatever gods that were out there.

It was tense and silent as they turned onto the road leading to Steelix Fortress.

“One day, I’m going to be strong like Orca. Then I can help him fight the bad guys too.” Ben vowed, his voice quiet and resolute.

Lenora laughed uneasily at his naive declaration, “Well, focus on getting stronger first.”

**********

They soon arrived at the fortress gates, smoothly proceeding through to the vehicle bay.

Lenora parked and shut off the truck. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she slumped into her seat, letting out a breath of relief. Soreness slowly creeping up her arms after gripping the steering wheel too tightly for so long.

“Ms. Lenora?” Ben asked timidly.

She hummed in question, not bothering to correct him.

“Sorry for giving you guys so much trouble.” His voice was morose and full of regret.

Lenora chuckled and reached over to give the boy a reassuring hug, “Don’t feel bad now, we’re here right? We’re safe here and you’re going to see your mom, and Orca and Erriox are on their way. Everything will be okay.” Ben hugged her back.

“Besides, that was a good test for this truck and my driving skills.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “It was pretty fun drifting around those curves like that.”

Ben laughed, feeling more at ease, “Yeah, that was like the Fast and the Furious movie!”

A knock at her window startled her. Laughing at her own reaction, Lenora turned to see the face of Sirass peering in. They both hopped out of her truck and she turned to greet the Iron Warrior.

“Hello, Sirass! It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” He gently clapped against her shoulder in greeting, “Erriox is still out there?”

She patted his armoured gauntlet affectionately, but her eyes couldn’t meet his gaze, “He and Malaran were still fighting the Black Templar when we left.”

“Brother Alcyon is on his way to meet them.” He replied, easing her worries. She smiled wanly at him, “That’s good. Give him my thanks.”

Sirass went and pulled out the combat knife embedded in the truck chassis, “I’ll hand this over to Erriox once he arrives and see to patching this hole before you leave.”

“Thank you, Sirass. It is much appreciated.” Lenora replied gratefully as she left her truck key on the dash before closing the door.

“I’m ready, Ms. Lenora.” Ben chirped.

The boy smelt familiar, Sirass noted “So you’re Amelia’s son. Ben, correct?”

Ben nodded, reaching a hand to him, “Yes, sir.”

The Astartes chuckled and gently shook his hand, “I am Brother Sirass and I will be guiding you to the medical wing.”

As they walked to the medical wing, Sirass idly asked Lenora, “Did Erriox tell you about the cookies?”

She laughed, “No, he didn’t! Other issues were more pressing at the time. Did you like them?”

He grinned, “They were very good. He said you will bring more next time.”

“Which ones did you like?” She asked.

“The ones with the chocolate pieces on them.”

The oatmeal chocolate chip cookies… never could go wrong with that recipe, she thought. Lenora smiled at him, “I will bring more of those cookies next time. Good thing you told me.”

Sirass dropped them off at the doors of the medical wing, waving goodbye before parting. Lenora and Ben went inside, making their way to where there was a young man in scrubs manning the administrative desk. He looked up, recognizing Lenora.

“Hey! Long time no see!”

“Hey Eric! It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

Eric waved his hand nonchalantly, “You know, the usual. Always learning. Coffee’s my savior.” Lenora laughed.

Standing up, the medical technician finally got a good look at Ben, who’s hair just crested the top of the desk and had been silent up until now, ���Hey! You’re Amelia’s son! You are so much taller than I expected. She talks a lot about you, you know!” He cheerfully greeted him, “Apothecary Osteron is expecting you guys. Room One, if you please. Lenora, you can go with him.”

“Thanks Eric.” Lenora nodded as she directed Ben to the appointed room.

Apothecary Osteron was an imposing Astartes, what with the various medical implements attached to the mechanical arms on his armour and all; that and being one of the few marines that towered a foot above most Astartes at the base. For an Iron Warrior apothecary though, he had surprisingly good bedside manners with baseline humans. Thus, treating humans at the base tended to fall on him.

Ben shuffled in closely behind Lenora, using her body as a shield of sorts.

“Lenora.” His sonorous voice greeted her.

She dipped her head respectfully, smiling, “Apothecary Osteron, it’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you in good health. I see you brought the boy.” He looked over at Lenora at Ben peeking out from behind her.

She nudged the teen, encouraging him to move out into the open, “Hey, it’s alright. Apothecary Osteron is a lovely man, he’s the doctor that takes care of the humans at the base. Don’t be scared.”

Osteron chuckled. He recognized Ben’s scent, “He certainly is Amelia’s boy. She was such a shy thing when we first met too.”

Lenora grinned wryly, “To be fair, you are rather intimidating at first meeting.” The apothecary laughed at that.

“You know my mom?” Ben asked curiously.

“Indeed, youngling. She works with Eric here.” Osteron answered patiently, “Get on the bed, and I will check you over. Erriox said you caught hypothermia?”

Ben shrugged, “Lenora said I had frostnip.”

Lenora answered Osteron, her voice clinical, “Ben was cold and barely awake when he got to us, so we suspected hypothermia. Thankfully, he seems to have recovered once we warmed him up. I checked on his digits thinking there may be frostbite, but it only looks like frostnip instead. We thought it would be better for a doctor to check him over just in case.”

The apothecary nodded, scanning Ben for other injuries once he did his initial check, “The ends of toes are still red, but it is on its way to recovery. The boy is slightly dehydrated as well, but is otherwise fine, he just needs good meals and rest.”

Osteron addressed Ben, “Your toes will be sore for a few days, but as long as you get rest and sufficient food and water, you will be fine. If you feel your toes swelling or you start to feel ill, make sure to come back here, alright?”

The teen nodded, “Okay.”

Satisfied, Osteron patted his head and led them out the examination room, “Good lad. You can wait in the hall for your mother to arrive. If you need anything, just ask Eric.”

Lenora paused as she remembered something, “Osteron, do you know who Amelia is bonded to? Erriox didn’t mention it before we left. I only know that he is one of the chaos Iron Warriors.”

“Brother Alcyon is her bonded.”

She hummed thoughtfully as Osteron left them with Eric.

“My mom! She’s here, right?” Ben asked, his voice hopeful and excited.

The teen deflated at Eric’s answer, “Sorry, Ben. She’s not here yet, but she’s on her way.”

Lenora gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, “Hey now, you’ve come so far. You only need to be patient and wait a little longer. Your mum’s coming, and Malaran is on his way. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll join you soon.” Pouting, Ben went and slouched onto one of the Astartes-sized chairs, looking comically small.

Lenora covered her smile at the cuteness. The medical tech gave her a clipboard with some forms to fill out, with a chuckle, “Cute kid. Here's some forms. Just fill out what you can and the rest we can hand it over to Amelia to finish. I’ll have you know, she works with me in the medical ward here. Lovely woman. She misses him. A lot.”

Lenora smiled sadly, glancing at the teen before grabbing a pen from the container, “He missed her very much too.”

“You were thinking about something earlier.” Eric asked thoughtfully, “Something about Brother Alcyon?”

“Yeah, something about his name sounds familiar, but I’m sure I’ve never heard his name outside today.” She replied then shrugged, waving the clipboard of forms, “I’ll hand it back once I’m done.” returning to sit next to Ben.

“You hungry?” Lenora asked the boy.

Ben blushed when his stomach growled, “Yeah, kinda.”

“No worries, you’ve only drank hot chocolate all day, but hadn’t eaten anything yet. Take a look inside your backpack, there should be food and water in there.”

Ben did as she instructed, “Woah! You didn’t have to put so much stuff in there!” he exclaimed. He pulled out a peanut butter and jam sandwich and a bottle of water.

Lenora laughed quietly, “I don’t know where you and Malaran planned to go after. Having some extra food and water is always good just in case of emergencies. Don’t worry about it, I have enough at home.”

She urged him, “Eat up and make sure you drink some water too. You only had hot chocolate the entire day.” Ben didn’t argue and started on his sandwich.

Lenora looked through the intake forms, filling out the blank fields where she could. She paused when she got to the address field, “Hey Ben, where did your mum say she lived again?”

“Somewhere outside the Fortress.”

“And… where the kingfisher lived?” Lenora recalled. Ben hummed an affirmative, mouth full of sandwich. It was then it clicked in her mind. She grinned, “I think I know who the kingfisher is.”

Ben swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, finally satisfied, “Who?” he whispered.

“Alcyon, your mum’s Astartes.” she replied, her voice, equally as hushed.

The boy pursed his lips in confusion, “I don’t get it.”

Lenora chuckled, “Alcyon is the latin species name for the Belted Kingfisher. Though the word can just mean kingfisher in general.” She pulled up the belted kingfisher entry in one of her bird identification apps on her phone, “See?”

“Oh…” Ben took her phone, looking at the picture of the blue and white bird with fascination, then swiped to another bird, “Can I look through this?” He asked.

“Of course.” Lenora said warmly, showing Ben how to back out to the main list of bird species for him to browse. She went to return the forms to Eric while the boy was occupied.

“Where’s Erriox? He’s usually attached to you by the hip.” Eric asked.

Lenora laughed, “Oh come on! No he isn’t.”

The tech snorted, “Well, every time I see you, you’re always together.”

“We make that much of an impression, huh? Maybe it’s only when you see us.” She teased him, her voice then lowered with concern, “He’s out dealing with a Black Templar with Ben’s Astartes. I am worried that they’re not back yet, to be honest.”

Eric hummed thoughtfully, “They’re big tough boys. I’m sure they’ll be okay.”

Lenora gave him a smile, still worried, “I hope so.”

She returned to Ben’s side. The teen handed the phone back to her, “Is there something for fish and marine animals?” He asked.

“I’m not sure, I never used it so never looked for that kind of app.” Lenora replied, “I’m sure there should be something available out there. I can ask my friends if they know.”

“Your friends are marine biologists?” Ben’s voice was full of awe.

“Well… no, but they do know marine biologists.” Lenora laughed.

“Then what do you do?” He asked her.

She smiled, “I’m a wildlife biologist.”

“Like you work with tigers and bears?” Erriox was not far off…, she laughed to herself.

“I work with birds mostly and sometimes reptiles and amphibians, but we also have wildlife cameras to catch some of the bigger animals. Would you like to see?”

“Yeah!” Ben leaned against her as she swiped through the gallery of wildlife camera photos. He’s pretty clever, Lenora thought, listening to him point out the animals in the pictures.

He suddenly laughed, “Who is that?!”

Lenora looked at the image of a jovial Space Wolf grinning at the camera. She giggled, “Sometimes we get space marines passing through. Some of them like to have some fun, when they don’t destroy the camera.”

“Ben?” Both their heads turned at the sound of the voice.

“Mom!”

[sleepyfan-blog]

Olivar's Entry

Author’s Note: This is the start of a mini-arc in which Cedric will be (trying) to patch up injured Primaris Black Templars as they appear on Ancient and Holy Terra! For other adventures click here and here. Next in the series: here. Thank you @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow Hura, Zariel and Ramiel! @kit-williams Arnault and Roland are briefly mentioned

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: non-consensual drugging, physical restraints for medical purposes, wounds, blood, needles, ask me to tag something if it bothers you/I missed it

Summary: Olivar has no idea where he is. But like hell is he going to surrender to these Death Guard Traitors. 

“Stay back, traitorous scum! You come any closer and I will kill you!” The Primaris Black Templar threatened. He was missing half his armor and his arms were shaking from the weight of the chain sword in his hands. 

The trio of Death Guard who had found the badly injured Scout-aged Templar kept the twenty-foot distance as they waited for Chief Apothecary Hura to arrive, as the ancient marine had been able to semi-domesticate two Primaris Black Templars, and it was likely that he would be able to get through to this one as well.

Darsas spoke out “Easy, young one. We mean you no harm. You’re badly injured, and swinging that sword of yours has worsened your wounds.” He was tempted to try and use one of the Gifts that Grandfather had given him, but Ancient Terra made using psyker powers incredibly difficult under ideal conditions, and in the middle of a city park against an actively resisting feral Astartes was far from ideal.

“Stay back!” The Scout hisses, swiping at Darsas as the Psyker took one step closer. His legs were shaking and he was leaning on his left side, which likely meant that his right leg was injured.

“How did you get this badly injured, little scout?” Mucinus asked, trying to rumble soothingly at the anxious young shithead. 

The Son of Down bared his teeth and growled at him before coughing, blood splattering his lips “Fuck off to whatever Warp-cursed hole you came out of! I need not explai… Explain myself to you.” The world spun unpleasantly beneath his feet and he had to plant the point of his chainsword into the soft, fertile ground to keep standing. His everything hurt from the beating that Chaplain Captain Petras had inflicted upon him for his failures. 

“You better not be riling up - oh! Hallo young one. It’s alright. From the look on your adorably stubborn face, you’re not going to let me patch you up, are you? But you’re in a bad way…” Hura cooed, walking up to near where the hissy young Black Templar was swaying, not breaching the twenty-foot radius of distance that his Brothers were keeping around the stubborn young Astartes. 

“I would rather die than let you touch me, foul heretic! I will not allow you to cor… Corrupt my body or soul with your obscene practices!” The Scout growled, taking a half-step back as he glared up at the large chaos marine. With considerable effort he heaved his chainsword up, about to press the button to let it start roaring when -

Cedric appeared out from behind the Death Guard Apothecary. He was in clothing that Olivar did not recognize. “Olivar!” His Apothecary Brother called out, running to his side, one arm coming up to brace his shoulders, his other hand plunging into the bag he was wearing. 

“C-Cedric! You’re here! Wherever… Here is… I thought we were in the Temple Monastery on Elandrich Seven…” Olivar mumbled. He wasn’t sure how or why Cedric had come to be wherever here was, but he was glad to see him. He spotted one of the Death Guard trying to creep closer and pushed Cedric behind him, pointing his sword at the bastard “Stay away! I-I will kill you! Or… Or at least banish you back to the Warp, where filthy traitors like you belong!”

“Olivar… You need treatment, you’re bleeding heavily, and -” Cedric started, pulling out a syringe filled with something, a worried frown on his face.

“But… But traitors! Heretic scum!” Olivar protested, glaring at the three… No, wait. There were four of them now, where the fuck did the fourth one go? Death Guard trying to advance on the two of them “They’ll kill us or much, much worse. I can… I can take them on. Once they’re dead, you c’n patch me up.”

“Vie… This is for your own good. Things are different here, and I hope that you’ll forgive me for this one day.” Cedric sighed, making absolutely no sense.

Olivar felt the sting of a needle and he blinked as he saw the fluid leave the syringe in Cedric’s hand, entering his bloodstream. He could taste the sedative on the back of his tongue and blinked at his Apothecary Brother in a mixture of shock and betrayal “But… But traitors.” He slurred as the sedative took its effects.

“I know… But we’re no longer in M42, and the situation here is much different.” Cedric answers, a guilty but determined expression on his face as the darkness claimed Olivar’s consciousness and mind.

~

Olivar opened his eyes and immediately regretted that decision. The hum of the artificial lights was vexing enough, the bright white glare of one of them directly into his eyeballs was a misery that the young Black Templar hadn’t been expecting. Which was why he immediately closed his eyes again. He breathed in through his nose slowly, catching the scent of antiseptics, clean bandages and wound-cleanser. The surface he was strapped down to was firm, but not uncomfortably so, and someone had draped a blanket across his body. He could hear the steady beeping of a medical monitoring device and could feel the stickiness of the spots where the machine was attached to his body.

He could taste a mixture of salt and sugar on his tongue, which likely meant that along with whatever else was in the IV hooked into his left arm, he was getting a mixture of water, salt and sugar to help with the fluid volume loss from the blood that he had shed earlier. He did not smell the fetid rot and decay of the Death Guard. While he was in pain, it was muffled, and his wounds had clearly been bandaged and probably cleaned as well.

“I know you’re awake, Scout… Or rather, you’d be an Apprentice, wouldn’t you? Being a Black Templar.” The… Ultramarine? Apothecary? Spoke up.

Olivar opened his eyes and looked in their direction. From the accent, to his looks and the armor he was wearing, the other sure looked like an Ultramarine. But considering he’d been surrounded by Death Guard and someone who had taken the shape and voice of one of his Brothers… “Where… Where am I?” He asked, his voice shaking a little more than he wanted it to. He wanted to sound demanding and fierce…Not nervous and unsure. “Where is Cedric?”

“You’re in Stoneflame Base, specifically in the medical bay. Cedric is closeby. He’s just worried that you’d be mad at him for how you ended up here, considering that he had to drug you against your will, so that he could move you to a place where you could get treatment before you died of blood loss.” The Ultramarine explained. “So I volunteered to watch over you, and to start to explain things, once you were awake and coherent enough to understand me.”

“I want to see Cedric. Which planet are we on? I don’t hear the thrum of a ship’s engine, nor the slow-pulse of a space station, so we’re planet-side. Or moon-side. What about the Death Guard? There were… Four of them? Most of them were heavily mutated and-” Olivar began in a rush. Cedric probably thought that it was best to get him to relative safety… Especially since there was apparently a base nearby, and older cousins to deal with the Foul Triators. Although he really wanted to know how the fuck he’d suddenly been brought to this world.

“We are on Terra.” The Ultramarine lied.

“There hasn’t been plant life on Terra in millenia! Except in a couple of highly climate-controlled gardens within the manor grounds of some of the HIgh Lords of Terra! Where are we really? Is this some sort of trick of chaos? You will not break my mind, nor my will. Drop this illusion at once, foul heretic!” Olivar growled. There was no way that he could possibly be on Holy Terra right now. The very thought of Traitors being on Terra without being immediately surrounded and pummeled to death was horrifying.

“We are on Terra in M3.” The Ultramarine explained “I myself was brought to this era on Terra from M37, from a world trillions of light years and many decades of warp-travel away from Terra. There are Astartes from many chapters and even some legions from just after the creation of the Terran-born Legionnes Astartes at the tail end of the Unification Wars, to you, who comes from M42 and are a Primaris Marine.”

Olivar wanted to deny the ludicrous words coming out of the clearly mad Ultramarine’s mouth… But the more he talked, the more that the young Black Templar realized that this son of Guilliman… Genuinely believed every word that he said. Furthermore, despite the sheer impossibility of this being possible… He found himself believing what the other was saying. “But… Why was I brought here? What purpose does it serve?”

“None of us know the answer to those questions, young one.” The Ultramarine murmured, moving closer and gently patting Olivar on his uninjured shoulder. “Cedric asked me to remind you that all of your injuries have been patched up to the best of our abilities, and that you will continue to receive proper medical treatment for them.”

Olivar swallowed hard. Cedric knew from whom these injuries came from, and the protocol that he was supposed to follow. “... I’d like to hear that from Cedric himself, please. And to speak with him. Privately, if that’s allowed.”

“Alright.” The Ultramarine responded, sending a message off on his wrist-mounted vox.

Cedric was in the room less than a second later. He looked equal parts relieved and regretful “Olivar, I’m glad to see that you’re awake. It was a little touch and go there for the first few hours after I got you to the base.”

Olivar tried to reach out to his Brother, but the restraints on his arms and wrists kept him from moving very far “I… Is the Ultramarine telling the truth? About where and when we are?”

“Yes. Yes he is.” Cedric answered, tears shining in his eyes as he knelt down next to the other’s bed, gently squeezing Olivar’s hands “There is… Much more to explain to you. About how things are supposed to work in this time period on Holy Terra, but that can wait, until after you’ve healed up, fully.”

“May I please be let out of these restraints? I promise not to make a break for the door. I’m not sure how quickly I could move right now, anyways. The-... I think all four of my lower leg bones were fractured during the… While I got my injuries.” Olivar asked. He noted that the Ultramarine hadn’t left the room, and he didn’t want to admit out loud how he had gotten his injuries. Not when it was abundantly clear to Olivar that Cedric had hidden the truth from them.

Probably so that he could tend to his injuries without them both being punished more. Which would be incredibly risky, if they were still in M42, and could be found by him or one of their harsher firstborn older brothers. 

“Sure thing. The others were worried that you might be fighty when you first woke up, given how I had to bring you in. You promise not to make trouble on purpose if I undo your restraints?” Cedric explained, an apologetic note in his voice.

“Yeah, alright. I promise to behave.” Olivar murmured “The… The Ultramarine implied that there were other Primaris Marines in this time and on Terra… Do you know who any of the others are? Or how many of us there are?”

“Including you and me? As far as I know, there are six Primaris marines in M3 Holy Terra.” Cedric answered as he carefully undid Olivar’s restraints. He paused for a moment before continuing “There’s Ollie, who’s an Ultramarine, Jophie, who’s a Blood Angel, Claude who was sent to a Raven Guard Successor Chapter, and…” His voice caught for a moment, blue eyes knowing and sad “Ramiel.”

“As in… As in Judiciar Ramiel? Fellow Black Templar?” Olivar asked, keeping his voice calm and neutral. He didn’t blame Ramiel for the part he’d been forced to play in his punishment.

“Yes.” Cedric answered, still watching him closely. 

Olivar reached up and gently tapped all-clear on one of Cedric’s hands, hoping that the other took it to mean that he didn’t blame Ramiel, nor was he upset at him for what he’d been forced to do. “Hey… S’nice to know that there are other Black Templars around. What about Firstborn Brothers?”

Cedric relaxed fractionally “This base is a mix of Salamander and Imperial FIst, actually. Though there are some Ultramarines as well. Like Apothecary Zariel for example. There are a couple of firstborn Black Templars who live in the city as well, but most Black Templars roam around Holy Terra in small groups, which they-we call Crusades, but everyone else calls Warbands. Both Bruder Roland and Bruder Arnault - the Emperor’s Champion - are wonderful! Very kind and patient.”

Olivar gasped a little at that revelation, his eyes going wide with surprise and hope. “Oh… I… Do you think that they would be amenable to meeting me, when I am healed up? It would be an honor to meet them both.”

Cedric’s smile brightened and Olivar could tell it was a genuine one, free of the usual nervousness of meeting Firstborn Brothers “I will ask them but I am  quite sure that their answers will be an enthusiastic yes. They are both very caring older bruders.”

Olivar blinked back tears. The pain relievers that he’d been given must be wearing off, which was why there were tears in his eyes. Relief and hope filled his hearts “I… I look forward to meeting them. Is Ramiel nearby? I’d… I’d like to talk to him, if he’s not too busy. The last conversation I remember having with him was… Fraught, and I’d like to apologize for being rude.”

Cedric’s smile shifted into something sadder, but understanding. “I’ll go get him. He’s been wanting to talk to you too, since he found out that you were here.” He stood up and Olivar grabbed one of Cedric’s hands.

“I… Can’t you vox him, asking him to come here? I’d… Rather not be this hurt by myself, bitte.” Olivar asked. He did not trust the strange Firstborn marine not to do anything strange, either. 

Cedric sighed a little before answering “I don’t have a vox, actually. I arrived on Ancient Terra in my sleeping clothes. But-” He turns and addresses the watching Ultramarine “Zariel, would you please vox Ramiel for me and Vie?”

“Sure thing, Cedric.” The Ultramarine responds, sending off a text message.

Seconds later, Ramiel bursts through the doors, skidding to a halt in front of Olivar’s bed. “Vie! You… You’re… I-I’m-”

Olivar cuts him off before he could say something that might get all three of them into shitloads of trouble “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Rami. I was the one in the wrong, during our… Argument, earlier. I shouldn’t have escalated things to the point they got to, and I’m glad that you did what you did to try and alleviate the situation. I’ll do my best to work on my temper, while I’m on Holy Terra. I hope, in time, I can earn your forgiveness, though I know it’s not something you would ever owe me.” He means every word of this, and, with effort, heaves himself up into a full sitting position and grabs one of Ramiel’s hands, squeezing gently. “What happened was not your fault.”

Ramel’s eyes widened and he clambered up onto the bed, burying his face into one of Olivar’s shoulders, silently sobbing into him, hugging Vie as tightly as he dared to, making sure not to agitate his injuries further, whispering “Th-thank you Olivar… I… Still… I’m so sorry…” 

“As I said before, what happened wasn’t your fault, Rami. I forgive you.” Olivar murmured just as quietly, holding his distraught brother in as tight a hug as his badly injured arms could manage. 

Cedric was standing so that his body was physically blocking  the Ultramarine’s sightline as Olivar and Ramiel hugged. His voice was a bit louder than it needed to be as he asked “I do have a couple of questions, Apothecary Zariel. When do you think it will be time to release Olivar from the infirmary?”

“That depends on how quickly he heals up. We Astartes are hardy and heal much faster than baseline humans - and from my anecdotal study of you and your fellow Primaris marines, you’re able to heal faster than us, somehow, given how badly he’s injured… It’s going to be at least a month before he’ll be allowed to leave the med-bay.” Zariel pointed out, a small frown on his face. He continued his assessment “Two of his lungs were punctured in several places, and both his Oolitic kidney and secondary heart sustained crushing damage. With careful monitoring and proper nutrition he should recover fully, but it’s going to be a long process. It’s remarkable he’s as coherent as he is, given the serenity of his wounds.”

“I’ve told you before that we Primaris marines are very hardy. We were built that way by the Mechanicus.” Cedric answered, shifting a little. 

“Yes, you have. But what you haven’t told me, if how he got those wounds. From the way you lead his initial treatments, you knew exactly how much damage he had taken and where he had been critically wounded.” Zariel pressed, frowning a little.

Cedric tried and failed to suppress the flinch before deciding to answer the question without actually answering the question “This is not the first time I’ve seen him with these exact wounds. It’s just… The first time around, we were both in M42 and I was unable to save him with what I had available to work with. Here in M3 not only was I better provisioned, I had your help and the help of several other highly qualified and experienced Apothecaries to save his life this time.”

Zariel’s gaze softened a little at his words. “I see. Well, I have paperwork to do. Please monitor our injured patient for me, hmm? I’ll send one of the others to relieve you in a few hours. And you will be relieved so that you can sleep. You’ve been awake for over 72 hours and that’s no good for anyone, be they Astartes or baseline.”

Cedric sulked at Zariel, huffing “I can go much longer without sleep without being detrimentally affected! … But I do understand that sleeping regularly is optimal for one’s mental and physical well-being.”

“Good lad. If you weren’t going to see reason I was going to involve Ash’val or sic Hura on you.”  Zariel hummed, heading for the door.

“Noooo! You don’t need to get Hura involved! You know how much he enjoys terrorizing Black Templars.” Cedric protested, sulking a little, keenly aware of how he’d handled those pushy Firstborn Black Templars a little while ago, and worried that his presence might wind up Olivar more than he would be helping.

“Then sleep properly, and I won’t have to.” Zariel threatened with a gentle smile before leaving the medical bay, allowing the trio of young Brothers to reconnect in relative privacy.

[especiallyhaytham]

Where was our subplot about all of Haytham's Templars being a cliquey little gentlemen's club and treating Shay like the scum of the earth, because that would've been so valid and entertaining as hell.

A) He's always out in the woods getting dirty instead of doing things in a civilized, vaguely ominous way, B) He's a former Assassin and nobody trusts him, because why would they, C) It's definitely not sus that his "sworn enemy"/old friend just happened to kill Monro when Shay was conveniently somewhere else, mmh, sure, and D) He lost the Precursor Box, and that's the second time they took an L and Didn't Get The Cool Thing (first was when Haytham couldn't open the cave). Man if I was a Templar, I'd be sick to death of Shay. Here comes the new guy who's the boss's favorite even though he can't do shit. Let's put spiders in his bed.

Also E) He's the bad Catholic kind of Irish, unlike Johnson who's Protestant and cool (which is a canon fact, for some reason?). That's not relevant to anything, I just think Ubisoft wasted the best opportunity to show how Ireland was absolutely reamed by the British. Everyone likes to pretend that didn't happen, huh.

[anathemafiction]

Listen, I just remembered how MC can call Lance 'Bard' and Hadrian 'Templar'. I'm not sure if it's specifically for Corrupted Romanus or one with low relationship with either of them, but it genuinely gave me goosebumps. It's like MC doesn't see them for anything else BUT their 'title'. It reminds me of something something similar but I can't quite place it 😭 Either way, it feels very threatening and it's very cool to see MC suddenly call Hadrian 'Templar' (although the more I think of it, the more I wonder if I didn't just hear it in a dream or smth. Gonna have to replay the game to see for sure 😩). It just. You can FEEL the temperature drop 😳

I add options to call people by their titles — especially, in Hadrian's case, their former titles — as a show of disrespect and disdain. You can also call them playfully, but there's always an underlying note of… contempt if you will.

You'll get to call almost every companion in that manner. Alessa is 'Tarek's right hand'. Neia as Inquisitor. The Pirate as His Majesty or, more to the point, as Pirate. Alain and Ysabella as Lord and Lady Theer respectfully. Rafael as the Thief. Vallen as the Red — Red scum is a favorite of mine.

Names like mercenary, Company's dog, translator, land-walker, and later, Marked, will be the ones people shoot at you.

The time when you can call Hadrian 'Templar' is a temperature-dropping moment! If I recall correctly, you do so when you're warning him that perhaps he should keep his big mouth shut.

[tobythewise]

Here's another DAtober prompt! This fill is Bound featuring Justice/Anders and my own take on a certain canon fantasy that Anders talks about. Enjoy!

Anders doesn’t remember falling asleep but there’s no mistaking the green, fuzzy edges of his consciousness. He’s clearly dreaming, walking through the Gallows. The place is completely empty, not a single soul lingering. As much as he revels in the fact that there’s not a Templar in sight, there’s also an uneasiness. Where are the mages? Where is everyone?

He continues to walk, looking up at the towering statues that line the courtyard. A shiver runs through him at the depictions of slaves. 

They will not have you. 

Anders thinks about Justice’s words and lets them sink beneath his skin, comforting him even in a cold place like this. 

Thinking of Justice, Anders can’t help but wonder where his fade spirit is. Since he’s walking through a dream, it would be easy for the two to converse like they used to before they were merged. He misses speaking face to face with Justice but he wouldn’t trade what’s happened for anything. They are one. Justice won’t decay and Anders will never be alone again. 

“There he is! Stop that mage!”

Anders startles, looking around and finding a handful of Templars bearing down on him. He turns to run but there’s already someone there, standing in his way. His heart begins to race, his eyes darting everywhere. 

No. 

They can’t have him. They’ll never have him!

Anders reaches for his staff but a strong grip wraps around his wrist, stopping him. He’s trapped and no matter how much he shouts or kicks or fights, it’s all too much. 

“You’ll have the brand!”

“No!”

A voice rings out through the Gallows. The Templars all pause, turning towards the voice. Anders stares, his heart leaping into his throat. An armored warrior makes his way down the stairs, a sword in his hand. He points the sword at Anders. 

“He is mine. You will not have him, Templar scum!”

The figure is alight with blue energy, a shining beacon of hope in an otherwise downcasted place. Anders can’t pull his eyes away as his savior fights his way through the Templars, cutting them down one by one without waning, without slowing down. 

He’s not sure if it’s an hour or a second, but eventually, everyone is dead but Anders and his savior. 

“Thank you for saving me,” he says, his voice shaky in his own ears. “May I look upon the face of my savior so I may properly thank them?”

The helmet is removed, revealing Anders’ own face, bathed in blue. “I hope this is acceptable. It is how I see myself.”

Anders is filled with warmth and affection. Justice is playing out the fantasy Anders once spoke to Hawke about. 

“You’re beautiful,” Anders says, barely above a whisper, placing a hand on Justice’s face and guiding him into a soft kiss. His knight. His savior. His partner. 

“As are you. We have bound ourselves, body and soul, together. You will never know fear again if I can help it.”

Anders believes him. 

[jaggededges123]

coffee's battleship fics: all the rest

The Locked Tomb

The Son of Drearburh

ortus/matthias, teen, cntw, 725 words

Ortus Nigenad and Matthias Nonius share a quiet moment between battles.

panting for flowing streams

eighthcest, explicit, underage, 1.5k

You watch your necromancer, your Master Templar of the White Glass, your young uncle, as he gives his parting blessings to the congregation of the Eighth House, the gathered bishops and faithful making the sign of the resurrection repeatedly as he speaks. He is dressed all in white, as usual, silver trimming of his robes the only deviation. As he has ever been, he is so pale that he very nearly blends in with his robes, a sense of the monochromatic emanating from him that you can only assume is the will of God, since there are many others of your House who would not suit the station and regalia of the Master Templar as he does. (On the way to Canaan House, Silas holds Colum's dick while he pees.)

Ace Attorney

Desperately

miamaya, explicit, underage, 1.9k

Mia and Maya go home from the police station after giving their statements on Redd White's attempted murder, and they need each other desperately.

Disco Elysium

isn't it lovely (that the sky is falling again?)

harrykim, mature, cntw, 493 words

Kim has a nightmare, and Harry halfway comforts him, halfway agonizes about the fact that it's his fault.

Scum Villian's Self Saving System

Peerless Adoration

lmy/qqq, teen, nawa, 400 words

Qi Qingqi reflects on her relationship with Liu Mingyan.

Expeditions: Viking

tapestry of night (tapestry of life)

eyfura/nefja, mature, nawa, 1.5k

Nefja Holmunardottir sits in her shared bed, watching her sister in the night, keeping vigil over her. Eyfura’s face is flushed and hot, and every few moments she lets out a low, wheezing cough that only barely passes for breathing. (Nefja contemplates her relationship with her twin sister, with their mother, and goes through a day.)

[uberdoot]

Almost perfect Grit Gate defense! All it took was roughly 4 hours precog-scumming psychic hunters in the salt dunes for a shit-ton of ego and then sundering minds, burgeoning, and teleporting like nobody's business :D

Also, I learned how nice portable walls are. portable wall the drop zones off and the templar tends to blow themselves up!

[soullessbullshit]

Merric: We’re willing to give you the information we have about the Grey Host’s whereabouts. In exchange for two simple apologies from you and your subordinate, Cassian Lupus.

Verandis: So you wanted an apology from me.

Merric: I figured, but didn’t want to assume.

Verandis: And by chance, what would I have to apologize to the Resolutes of Stendarr for?

Merric: Well, originally I’d ask you to apologize for being a scum-sucking, blaspheming, ignorant, vampiric abomination...

Merric: But in this case, the sins of your pet werewolf are of greater concern.

Verandis, sighing: What did he do this time?

Merric, pulling out a file: Over the past couple years, he’s sent no less than two hundred death threats to the Grand Templar. By carrier pigeon, no less! They just fly face-first into the temple windows!

Merric: The latest one read as such...

Cassian's voice, narrating the letter in Verandis’s head: “Dear Chief Replacement, I wanted to send you this friendly little letter to inform you of your imminent demise.”

Cassian’s voice: “If you’re curious about the frequency of which I’ve sent these letters, it is merely to instill as much fear as I can. As if basting a turkey. Which I will then proceed to have sex with. That’s right. I’m going to FUCK the fear turkey.”

Merric: “Sincerely, Cassian Lupus.”

Verandis: I can’t help but ponder the frightful headway we’d make if he put that sort of energy into his job.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

[so, you’ve come to distract me from my patrol, have you?]

Pairing: Carver/Merrill Rating: T Word Count: 3,079 Summary: Merrill surprises Carver while he's doing a night patrol of Hightown's The Garden, a route so dead only a guard being punished [or coddled] would be put there. Merrill makes it more exciting.

Note: Listen, this is absolutely a self-indulgent oneshot after all my recent rants about Carver not getting to join the guard, and my desire for more Carver/Merrill content. Sure, it's probably not the most responsible thing for Carver to be smooching his girlfriend on the job, but in his defense- if Aveline gets to bone Donnic on the clock, then Merrill can distract Carver on patrol for a bit, it's fine.

Read on AO3

---

A dead patrol. A surprise to no one.

Carver could walk up and down the same street of cobblestone and moss a hundred times during his shift, all without a worry. The only threat to him was the temptation to sleep through the rest of it behind the thorny bushes.

Right, that’s all he needed—for Nabil to find him drooling all over himself and report back to Aveline that Carver was sleeping on the job. Not that she could possibly give him a worse route than this.

The Garden, as everyone called it, was a neighborhood of noble mansions and botanical greens crawling over the cobblestones and rooftops. Morning glory grew in shades of soft pink, purple, and blue up along most of the homes, the delicate flowers entertaining a few buzzing bees. Thick vines grew over the heraldries, each displayed oh so proudly.

The sun fell and the bustle and hum went with it, leaving little to listen to but the ambience of night.

To call this “light duty” would be an understatement. Carver always took night patrols in Lowtown where gangs of thieves and scum prowled the shadows and rooftops, predators in search of unsuspecting prey. Due to the changes Aveline made, as well as some off-the-books help from his brother, Carver and his fellow guardsmen ensured that Lowtown was far safer than it was years ago when he and his family first landed in Kirkwall. He took pride in that. He'd worried that being a city guard wouldn't be the fulfilling career path he wanted it to be, but unless he wanted to go back to mercenary work, or join the templars, it was the only shot he had at earning a living with the skillset he owned. Three years on the job brought him experience and satisfaction. Well, for the most part. There were... exceptions.

But Carver did good work. He believed it with everything that breathed inside him. It proved to him that Kirkwall didn’t have to be a cesspool of crime and filth, miserable with every reminder that it once was—or still is, depending on who you ask—the damned City of Chains.

He still missed Fereldan sometimes, but that ache had dulled once he got the footing to pave his own path, to find his own people. To find love.

The shadow cast by his brother, as well as his situation as an apostate, no longer felt constrictive. Carver had the liberation to be more than he was.

The qunari’s attack on Kirkwall three months ago left a fresh wound that’s yet to scab over. The Viscount dead at the hands of the Arishok, and his son, Saemus, at the hands of the Chantry—excuse him, only one mere fanatic, Mother Petrice. Tensions between the mages and templars escalated with every passing day.

And Edgar, Carver’s big brother, now the Champion of Kirkwall… nearly killed by the Arishok, still healing and only able to walk well with the aid of a cane.

Carver stopped his pacing to rest back against the tall, stone wall that encased the neighborhood and cast a shadow over half the path. He pulled the gauntlet from his hand to properly rub his tired eyes.

He needed to stop dwelling on that. He could replay that whole battle verbatim in his mind; relive the horror of Edgar getting run through as Fenris and Aveline held Carver back while Sebastian restrained Anders from interfering. It'd only give the rest of the qunari reason for attack.

All the sleepless nights spent sick with grief and worry that Edgar might not make it, that losing Mother only weeks prior wasn't enough…

The only comfort he'd found was in Merrill’s gentle voice and the way her slender fingers brushed the dark hair away from his eyes. The way she kissed his knuckles, then his cheek. Light kisses up to his temple. Her arms around him.

Carver's head fell back against the cold wall, and his eyes fell shut.

Nothing would come of brooding over such things. Edgar survived and the qunari were gone. Merrill waited for him back home. That’s all that mattered.

“Shit,” Carver grumbled.

He hated light duty for this very reason. Nothing to do but entertain his thoughts, and those thoughts often slipped into territories he didn’t wish to explore.

"Not even a lowly thief," he said, voice slicing through the air sharply. "Surely these nobles have something worth trying to steal. Anyone would do."

He should be patrolling Lowtown, the alienage, or the docks. He'd even take Darktown at this point. Anders' clinic always needed guarding from those deranged enough to try causing trouble, or steal supplies from a man giving treatments out for free.

Somewhere he and his blade could actually be of use.

But no. Tonight, he stood in Hightown, left to guard a bunch of mansions with nobles no one cared about in an unsuspecting corner because sure, Guard-Captain Aveline didn’t coddle her men despite what some rumors would suggest—she's only decided to coddle him after the qunari attack.

To say it was maddening would be laughable. Did she do it on purpose to rile him up? Or did she truly believe he hasn’t changed since Lothering?

Aveline didn’t even want Carver to join the guard in the first place, and any chance he might’ve had would’ve gone out the window once she was promoted to Guard-Captain if not for Edgar.

His brother had a persuasive way with words that Carver tended to lack. Though, that “persuasive way” was just Edgar filling out a new application for him and taking it straight to the Viscount for approval. He slapped the approved application down on Aveline’s new desk with that triumphant, shit eating grin of his; “So, when can he start?”

Aveline didn’t talk to Edgar for a week after that one, but Carver's never been so bloody grateful for his brother's inability to keep his nose out of things.

But now Aveline’s made a point to avoid him recently, citing her reasons as “too busy with aiding the recovery from the qunari invasion to bicker with Carver about patrol routes.”

Another exasperated sigh escaped him as he peered around once more. Still nothing out of the ordinary caught his eye.

But a rustle hummed in the air. Carver stilled, listening. Footsteps, perhaps? Light as a feather, but there. He pushed himself away from the wall to stand in the moonlight, and with another glance around the neighborhood, rolled his shoulders. The weight of his sword rested comfortably against his back just as it always did, ready for anything.

It’s probably just one of the residents coming home for the night. That’s about as exciting as it got around here. A drunk stumbling home no mind paid to him, or a couple who'd each gave a polite nod, or sometimes someone all alone who pretended they didn’t see—

Leaves rushed above.

“Oh!”

From his peripheral, a flash of green dropped beside him with a heavy, “oof!”

Carver yelped, and drew his sword in an instant. A jump back. Stance widened, fully alert. Heart lunging in his chest. Flower petals of yellows, whites, and burgundies fluttered in the air. Brow furrowed. Sword raised defensively. Lips parted to confront his attacker, but the threat caught in his throat.

His attacker was anything but.

“Mythal’enast!” Merrill gasped out, those pretty green eyes of hers wide with shock, still bright even in nightfall. “That’s not at all what I meant to do!”

Carver froze, blinking. It only took a moment to register that it was actually her, then all tension in his body melted away. Merrill dressed in a casual, loose shawl and simple leggings, flower petals scattered all over her from the bouquet she held, which had fallen apart. A lovely sight, as disheveled as she was, Maker’s breath.

 He lowered his sword with a relieved huff, rushing to her side. “Maker, Merrill, you scared me!" Carver's eyes darted around, looking for any signs of danger. "Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes!” Merrill breathed out, grabbing his arm to help steady herself. “I’m sorry! I meant to surprise you, but not like that!” She wiped her hands on the front of the shawl with a small wince, causing Carver to instinctively grab them. Her palms were a little rough, but the skin was untorn, thankfully.

"Color me surprised." Then, softer, "A pleasant surprise."

She smiled sheepishly. Maker, beautiful doesn't even begin to describe her. Don't ask him how or why she chose him, he couldn't tell you and he could hardly understand her reasoning for it. They hadn't been together long; less than a year. And they still might not be if not for, once again, Edgar... who had the cheeky idea to "accidentally" lock them down in the wine cellar together one night and had Anders cast some spell to seal it shut.

His damn brother. The more he succeeded in helping Carver, the more insufferable he became about it.

“I thought I'd come see you," Merrill said. "But couldn’t remember exactly where you said you’d be tonight and spent ages wandering around. I thought I’d find you in the Viscount’s garden, but I looked in every corner and you weren’t there. I thought it was odd they’d have you guarding flowers.”

Carver chuckled, carefully plucking a few petals from her hair, not wanting to hurt her with his gauntlet, and said, “Close, but not quite.” He motioned to the wall, adding, "Doesn’t explain how you nearly toppled over me, though.”

The blush coloring her cheeks took on a purple hue in the night light. “I figured if I could just get up high enough then maybe I’d find you—which I did! And I may have misstepped, but I’m fine! I've fallen from higher! I just…Oh, I picked these for you, but… uhm.” Merrill’s shoulders dropped when she inspected the sorry looking flowers, if they could even be called that anymore. They’re mostly green stems and leaves now. “They were much prettier before I fell, I swear.”

Warmth bloomed in Carver’s stomach, his heart fluttering as he laughed. Maker, he wished he didn’t have his armor on. He did so want to hug her, but a city guard uniform wasn’t the most comfortable when pressed against, and acted as an unfortunate barrier between them.

He did the next best thing, and leaned down to press a light kiss to her cheek before whispering in her ear, “So, you’ve come to distract me from my patrol, have you?”

Merrill laughed, discarding the ruined bouquet to the cobblestone path. She gripped his waist, humming, “Maaaybe. If only for a minute. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Carver looked up and down the single path through The Garden yet again, still as dead as it was from the start of his shift. He still had another hour or so before guardsman Nabil showed up to take his place, and that’s just an hour of waiting for nothing to happen.

He took his position seriously, and carried out every—okay, most orders with little complaint, and only did things off-the-books when judgement deemed it necessary. The Garden patrol was beneath him, and with Merrill’s gaze drifted down to his lips…

“It’d have to be a serious watch for me to get in trouble,” he told her. “You falling off a wall is as thrilling as it’s gotten.”

“No one’s been mugged?”

“No.”

“No shivving? No kicking or punching or biting?”

“Nope.”

"Not even a cat who wants to scratch you?"

"Not even."

“Well!” Merrill shook her head, tapping a finger to her chin to make a show of thinking, but he caught the hint of mischief in the way she grinned. “I suppose I'll have to do something about that.”

Before he could protest, Merrill planted both hands on his chest and pushed Carver into the shadows, both stumbling until his back hit the wall with a clank.

"Merrill!"

"Shh!" she giggled. "You'll wake everyone up."

"Who says you haven't already?" Carver challenged, teasing. "That fall of yours was a spectacle."

"It wasn't that noisy. Your scream was louder."

"I didn't scream!" he protested. "I... that was a war cry."

"Oooh," Merrill pressed herself fully against him, her hands moving up his neck to caress his face. "Well, it was a very handsome war cry, then, not a scream." She ran her thumb over his bottom lip, and in a low voice, said, "I wonder if I can make you do it again."

His heart leapt. Heat pooled in his gut, bright embers flying around inside him. Gooseflesh rose, a tremble working up his spine. The sweet scent of earthy florals washed over him, so her in every way. Carver gripped her waist as she leaned on her tip toes to press a slow kiss his chin.

"Ma vhenan..."

Her lips brushed along his neck. His breath hitched. Despite the cool air, he felt all too warm beneath his armor. Her eyes locked with his, her pupils blown.

"Kiss me."

"Is that an order?" Carver breathed out.

"Mmhmmm~"

He slid down the wall a little, legs stretched out with her standing between them, and planted his feet securely. In this position, he wasn't as tall, and it allowed them closer, but his damned armor—

Maker's breath, it didn't matter.

Both gauntlets were off, tossed to the stone, and his hands brought her face to his. Their lips finally met in an urgent kiss, their lips moving together in every way that muddled Carver's mind. The embers in his belly ignited into a wildfire that spread through his each of his limbs as a pleasant moan vibrated in Merrill's throat, tingling through his palms. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, pulling just enough to make him groan.

He kissed her, and kissed her again, hands gliding over her back and waist, fingers spread to hold as much of her as possible. When they finally broke apart, her finger pressed under his chin, tipping his head back to give Merrill's lips room to latch back onto his neck. There she peppered long, drawn out kisses until he felt her smile.

She hooked one leg up around his hip.

"Merrill," he warned, non-committal.

"Does this armor have to be so bulky?" she asked, feigning innocence. "Can you even feel me at all?"

Carver snorted a laugh. "It keeps us from getting stabbed easily."

"Right. That's nice and all, and I do prefer you unstabbed, but it really makes it hard to do anything."

"You can do this." He kissed her. “And this.” Another, this time teasing her bottom lip with his teeth.

That made her smile.

A fresh breeze rushed through the trees, and Carver remembered where he was. Nothing about The Garden had changed. Not a soul passed, nor did anything distressing beckon him to do his duty as a guard.

It was a bad thought to have, one completely brought on by the need pumping in his blood and the way Merrill felt beneath his hands, but he had it anyway; did he really need to stay? Carver was never one to abandon a post, not unless he absolutely had to… but would anything actually happen in the time between now and when Nabil showed up to replace him?

Well, if it did, that’d just be his luck.

And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Nabil would report back to Aveline that Carver abandoned his post, especially if he didn’t report in.

But he found it hard to care. Everyone knew this route was practically a joke, given to new recruits or punished guards—or to Carver whenever he pissed Aveline off or she felt he needed to calm down, or when she felt over-protective.

Even Nabil only had the route after him because he got into a fist fight in the barracks over Varric’s novel, Hard in Hightown, again.

Ah, shove it all.

 “C’mon,” he said, lacing his fingers with Merrill’s. Carver gave her a final kiss, and led them away from the wall, though she made her disappointment clear with a sigh.

“So soon?” she asked. “I could put some wards down. So that no one interrupts us while we… you know.”

Carver flushed at that, and raised a brow at her.

“Would those wards set Nabil on fire when he showed up?”

Merrill shifted her gaze away. “No.”

“Paralyze him?”

“…Probably not.”

 “Merrill.”

“Okay, maybe, but only a little! Just long enough to make ourselves decent again!”

Carver threw his head back with a laugh that bounced around the empty neighborhood, and soon hers joined in. Carefully slipping his arm around her shoulders, they walked down the path at a slow pace.

“I wonder what report would alarm Aveline more,” Carver started, “that Nabil tripped a paralysis ward suspiciously set in The Garden, of all places, or that you set it so we could fool around in the bushes.”

“Not in the bushes. They’re too thorny. You may have armor that keeps you unstabbed, but I don’t.”

Carver snorted. “Dirty.”

“What?” Merrill’s brow furrowed. “How was that… oh.”

Their laughter continued to ring through the night as they walked, soon reaching the end of the path that brought a set of stairs leading down into the rest of Hightown.

“I don’t think anyone would care if I left early,” Carver told her, giddiness bubbling in his throat at the way she perked up.

“Really?” Merrill asked. “Are you sure? What if something happens? What if someone steals something, or giant spiders crawl out from Darktown and eat everyone?”

“Then it’s Nabil’s problem,” he shrugged, grinning. “And I’m pretty sure Ed’s not home. Something about the Hanged Man and Isabela’s new hat. We’d have the estate to ourselves."

That was more than enough for Merrill.

Together they hurried out of The Garden, only garnering the judgement of a beggar and a passing couple as they ran hand in hand. Luckily the Hawke estate was close, and that poor Bodahn wasn’t there to greet the kissing couple as they nearly toppled in through the door.

All thoughts and worries were far from Carver’s mind, any consequences be damned.

Not that there would be any—Nabil didn’t even show.

The only evidence that anyone worked in The Garden that night was a pair of forgotten gauntlets and a plethora of scattered flower petals.

[sapphim]

I keep thinking about some of these unrecorded lines cut from Bartrand's introduction.

So, an interesting fact, every line in the game has an ID in the talktable, which is where all the text for the game is stored. These IDs are generated as new lines are added to conversations, so by sorting the talktable IDs you can see which lines were written at around the same time. So, here's the evolution of Bartrand's intro conversation.

Bartrand: No!

Bartrand: Andraste's tits, human! You know how many people want to hire onto this expedition?

Bartrand: This is the sort of venture that can make a man for life! I'm not about to take any chances hiring random humans.

Red Hawke: [We want this job.] This expedition can open doors for us in this city. We have to go with you.

Blue Hawke: [We have experience.] We've fought and killed darkspawn. How many of your hired men can say the same?

Purple Hawke: [Get to know us, Bartrand.] I'll buy you a drink before we head into the Deep Roads. Everyone wins!

Bartrand: Look, precious, I don't care if you tore the horns off an ogre with your bare hands.

Bartrand: Get in line, human. Half of Kirkwall wants to be my best friend right now.

Bartrand: You're looking for a quick way out of the slums, right? You and every other Fereldan in this dump.

Bartrand: Find another meal ticket.

The first draft of the conversation, just Bartrand and Hawke. These dialogue options for Hawke are all lines that exist in Bethany's half of the conversation.

There's a jump in talktable IDs here (6016857->6064020) indicating a new writing session.

Bethany: But we heard you're going into the Deep Roads. Surely you'll need all the help you can—

Carver: Look, we know you're going into the Deep Roads. You'll need to hire the best and we're—

Bartrand: You're too late! Already done!

Bethany: What are we supposed to do now?

Bethany: Athenril kept the templars off our backs last year, but… we can't do it alone.

Carver: Well. Back to waiting for someone to turn us in.

[CUT] Carver?: Working for scum, dogged by templars. How many other refugees have just disappeared in the last year?

[CUT] Red Hawke: [I'll change Bartrand's mind.] One way or another, we're getting into this expedition.

[CUT] Bethany: I wouldn't count on that.

[CUT] Carver: I'm not holding my breath.

Blue Hawke: [We'll be fine.] We've made a name for ourselves this last year. We'll find something.

Bethany: We have to…

[CUT] Carver: We haven't made a name until people start coming to us.

[CUT] Purple Hawke: [It was worth a shot.] It's not every day you get a chance to head into the Deep Roads, right?

[CUT] Bethany: We missed out on a treasure-filled paradise, I'm sure.

[CUT] Carver: Mmm, not every day. And not today, apparently.

[CUT] Bethany: I hear Aveline's with the city guard, now. Maybe we should check with her.

[CUT] Carver: Isn't Aveline with the city guard now? Maybe she has something—anything—worthwhile.

They add some sibling interactions to the beginning of the conversation, and then add a new complete dialogue wheel exchange with the siblings, ending with the call to action to visit Aveline that eventually ended up in the conversation with Varric.

Hawke's cut lines are unvoiced (boo!). Most of Beth's and Carver's are voiced with the exception of one line with no way to verify its intended speaker, but which I assume from context must be Carver.

What keeps bringing me back to these early cut lines is Carver's mentions of the refugees that have disappeared over the past year, which was removed in favor of focusing solely on the templar threat.

Only one line from this exchange survived and, again, ended up in Bethany's half of the conversation. There's another gap in IDs here (6064032->6107530).

[CUT] Bethany: Or there's always Gamlen.

[CUT] Carver: Or we could talk to Gamlen.

Red Hawke: [He got us into this mess.] Gamlen is the reason we've been here for a year.

Bethany: He got us into Kirkwall. We've been safe so far.

Carver: Well, he did get us into the city, right?

Blue Hawke: [That might work.] He always seems to know what's going on.

Bethany: We might as well ask. Otherwise, I don't know what we'll do…

[CUT] Carver: Or thinks he does.

Purple: Hawke: [Isn't there anyone else?] Our uncle's not exactly the most reliable tool in the shed.

Bethany: He's all we've got. Maker save us.

[CUT] Carver: I don't know. The old saw isn't so bad.

Carver: What else can we do? We're losing ground, and I don't fancy waking up in the Gallows.

A new call to action and new dialogue wheel exchange! This survived intact... once again, only in Bethany's half of the conversation, hence the cut Carver lines.

These cut lines all have recorded audio.

The last major gap is here (6107559->6205966).

Bethany: Working for Meeran held the templars off for a while, but… now we're on our own.

Bethany: We've got nothing to stop the next person who tries to sell us out. This expedition was our last chance…

Purple Hawke: [Just relax.] Don't worry, Bethany. I won't let any big bad templars come get you.

Bethany: It's not a joke!

Red Hawke: [The templars are your problem.] I can't spend my whole life looking over my shoulder for templars, Bethany.

Bethany: If the templars find me, the best I can hope is to be locked away for the rest of my life! If they don't kill me outright!

Bethany: We need coin, status, something we can hide behind. As long as we're just refugees, we're no one.

Bethany: Maybe Gamlen knows someone who can talk to Bartrand for us…

So Bethany gets some new lines specific to her being a mage, and then we move on to Carver.

[CUT] Carver: I'm not ending up like that. We're not ending up like that!

[CUT] Red Hawke: [I don't plan on hiding.] I didn't spend the year fighting to give up now.

[CUT] Carver: Right. Always got a plan. But I need to know what it is, too.

Purple Hawke: [You're no mage. Why worry?] You can relax. After all, the templars dogging us are "mine."

Carver: Did I sound that bad? Maker, I'm turning into Gamlen.

[CUT] Carver: We've got to make him take us. Force him, somehow.

Carver: We need coin, status, something we can shove in that dwarf's face. And keep people off our backs.

[CUT] Carver: Maybe Gamlen knows someone?

Interestingly, all of these cut lines are unrecorded (boo!), so despite being among the last written, they were among the first cut. Judging by what little remains of the original conversation structure, Carver's first line here "We're not ending up like that!" follows directly from the earlier cut line "Working for scum, dogged by templars. How many other refugees have just disappeared in the last year?"

Then the exchange with Carver and Bartrand is expanded on and the first dialogue wheel entirely rewritten, somewhat out of order.

Carver: The money from this trip could fix everything! You need us. We've fought darkspawn!

Carver: You make him understand! We're running from your bloody templars!

Red Hawke: [Shut up!] I'm in charge. You do what I say!

Carver: Right, Brother.

Carver: Right, Sister.

Blue Hawke: My brother can be hotheaded, but we do have the skills to benefit your expedition.

Blue Hawke: [You're right, but settle down.] I know how you feel, but we'll earn no favors with your fist in his face.

Purple Hawke: [This isn't helping.] My brother has a point. It's on his head, but it's still valid.

Carver: Oh, thanks for that.

Red Hawke: My brother can be a fool, but he's right about this. We are what you need.

Carver: Then we do nothing, as always.

Purple Hawke: So what about it, Bartrand? We're just what you need.

Genuinely I hate this and I don't understand why Hawke is such a bitch lmao. Then the second and third dialogue wheels get their own rewrite... again.

Red Hawke: [You were no help.] Too many refugees disappear for you to threaten people who could help us!

Carver: I know. I just… how long do we work for scum who don't want us around?

Blue Hawke: [Show some support.] It'll get harder if we're at each other's throats.

Carver: I know. It just… seems like you either die in this city, or you end up like the scum we're bargaining with.

Carver: Gamlen. He's got the head for this garbage. Maybe he can talk to Bartrand.

Red Hawke: [A bad idea, but the only one.] I wouldn't trust him with a silver, but dear uncle's at least as sleazy as Bartrand.

Blue Hawke: [He's helped us get this far.] He got us into the city, more or less. If there's a chance he can push Bartrand…

Carver: He knows some people. After last week, we need all the coin and influence we can get.

Purple Hawke: [Risky, but worth checking.] You catch more flies with honey, but Gamlen's bullshit could work too.

Carver: And all I can think of is Uncle Gamlen.

Carver: Worth checking, I guess.

Carver: How's that for a compliment?