#uriel ventris

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - An Epilogue

I couldn't help myself. I had to write out what life post-NESD looks like for our main couple- a snap shot of what they're doing, where their state of mind is at and what their relationship looks like right now.

If you need a refresher or to read the main story, the masterlist is here.

So, hope you guys enjoy this one. And also, thanks to @nereidof40k for letting me borrow her oc Mirian for a quick mention near the end :)

Ellicent holds the offending pieces of steel together in her left, prosthetic hand. In her right, a plasma welder hisses and spits. She reaches up, bringing the tip of the flame to the crack that's almost split the armoured plate in two. It's a piece of a Rhino's tread armour-- the Astartes go-to armoured vehicle. It's supposed to be painted Ultramarine blue, but with the damage it has sustained, it's stripped all the way down to the steel.

Blue sparks burst from where the plasma cutter touches the metal. It stings her eyes despite the protective goggles she's wearing. But through the smoke, she can see it's working. Under the impossible heat of the plasma, the severed edges of the split start to melt. Ellicent clenches her left fist, digging the ceramite-tipped nails into either side of the armoured plate and dragging them closer together. The melting metal meets in the middle, filling the gap. Ellicent allows herself a self-satisfied smile. Almost done, now. Just a little-

A bolt of pain spikes through her left shoulder. For half a second, her entire bionic arm goes limp.

"Shit!" Ellicent hisses. She kills the plasma welder, drops it to the floor, hurries to catch the plate with her other hand. But it's too late. With a deafening clang, the plate clatters against the floor. The crack down its centre reopens. Molten ceramite dribbles from it like liquid magma. Tearing off her goggles, Ellicent clutches her bionic arm. The nerves are still twinging, making the fingers twitch and jerk. Ellicent glares at it in loathing. She swears that the thing glares right back at her.

"Is all well over there, Ellicent?" a soft. vox modulated voice implores from behind her. "That was quite the bang."

Ellicent winces. Rising to her feet, she turns in the direction of the voice. "Yes, Galeo, I'm okay. Sorry for the... the disturbance."

The Magos looks at her through spherical, turquoise eye lenses embedded within a bronze face plate. It looks like a mask- completely devoid of emotion or expression. His voice, however, has a warm soft-spokenness that reminds Ellicent an awful lot of her beloved late father.

"There's nothing to forgive," he says. "From what I can see, you are not even at fault."

At first, Ellicent doesn't understand. Then, with one, skeletal hand, Galeo points at her limp left arm. As if on cue, the bionic spasms, sending another lance of agony streaking through her shoulder. Ellicent grimaces. But it isn't only from pain.

"Yeah," is all she manages to reply.

Galeo glides over to her, his robe rippling as the scores of robotic legs beneath them scuttle along. Another pair of robotic limbs protrude from his shoulders, tipped with various blades, claws and other such mechanical instruments. These unfurl as Galeo reaches Ellicent's side.

"May I?" he asks, nodding towards her prosthetic.

Wordlessly, Ellicent nods, releasing her right hand and dropping it to her side.

Galeo stoops down to her level and gently takes her arm in both hands. He holds the limb out, and the robotic arms atop his shoulders extend their manipulator claws. They grasp Ellicent's arm by the bicep and elbow. In a flurry of tiny, mechanised movements, they strip away the outer plates and begin working on the synthetic muscle beneath. Weaving, reweaving, detangling and reconnecting. Ellicent grits her teeth a little. Vaguely it feels like a dozen ants are tugging on her nerve endings. Not painful, but not pleasant, either.

"Ah, I see the issue," Galeo says.

"Let me guess," says Ellicent. "It's rejecting me."

"So to speak," the tech priest admits. "It seems the bionic's machine-spirit is... cautious of those within the xenos implants."

His careful choice of wording makes Ellicent smirk. It also fills her stomach with stones. "Cautious?" she says. "More like disgusted."

"I detect no such sentiments from this spirit. Rather I detect intimidation. Suspicion."

Ellicent looks at the ground pensively. "Same, same," she mutters.

The servos in Galeo's neck squeak as he turns his head to look at her. "Semantics aside," he says. "It is a problem I believed I had solved with this latest prosthetic. But, clearly, I was mistaken. A long term conundrum to be sure. But in the short term, it is an easy, albeit temporary, fix."

The nerves in her arm give a final, uncomfortable twinge. Then, as efficiently as they'd stripped them, Galeo's robotic arms reassemble her prosthetic's outer plating and screw it back into place. Once they've retracted out of the away, Ellicent clenches her fist and gives the elbow and shoulder joints a good flex.

"How does it feel now?" Galeo asks.

Ellicent opens her palm. Touches each finger to her thumb, one at a time. "Still a little stiff," she admits. "But it's always like that after it's been rewired. Should go away on its own; it usually does." She gives him a smile. "But other than that, it's perfect. Thank you."

"That's quite alright," Galeo says warmly. "And before you remark on it, do not worry about the mess. I'll have a servitor or two tend to it."

Ellicent's smile turns sheepish. "Thanks," she murmurs.

"Magos Galeo!"

Both Ellicent and the Magos turn around.

From the main entrance of the engineering chamber, almost too tall to fit through the doorway, approaches a broad figure clad in crisp white robes. His dark hair is shaved around the temples and grown into a short, well-kept mop on the top of his head. He's got the square, rugged face that all space marines have, though there's a kindly softness around his eyes that makes him stand out from many of his brothers.

"Greetings, Captain Ventris," Galeo says. "It has been a long time."

"I was hoping I'd find you here. I've something I need to discuss with you." Uriel Ventris' is cordial, but serious. When he sees Ellicent, however, he offers a smile. "Ellicent! How good to see you again."

Ellicent returns his smile. She hasn't known Ventris very long- hardly longer than a week, in fact. But that time has been more than enough for her decide that Ventris is, as they say, one of the good ones.

"Cap'n," she greets him with a casual half-salute. "Good to see you, too."

"Fortuitous, as well; I was hoping to find you here, too."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes." Ventris' smile turns coy. It's an odd expression to see on a space marine, but somehow, he manages to pull it off. "I wanted to pass on that your sergeant is looking for you."

Suddenly, all of that sinking weight in Ellicent’s gut from before evaporates. "That so, huh?"

"Indeed it is," Ventris replies. "He'd have come himself, but he was stuck in a debriefing with the Chaplain. It should be wrapping up by now, though. If you head up to the situation room now, you'll probably catch him on his way out."

Ellicent looks at Galeo expectantly. The tech priest inclines his head in affirmation. "The other enginseers can finish things here," he says. "You are dismissed."

"Thank you," Ellicent says. Then, to Ventris. "Really was good seeing you again, Uriel. Take care of yourself, yeah?"

"I shall try," the captain replies with a chuckle. "As unto you."

With that, Ellicent leaves the two men to it. Headed down the corridor, bound for the nearest elevator.

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

The situation room is on one of the centre most levels. Oval shaped with chamber-like walls and decorated ceiling, it has enough space to hold an entire company of space marines while still having room left over for seating and pict-projectors. At least that's what Gadriel has told her; Ellicent herself has never been inside. She's never been allowed. But she knows the way well enough. And after only two wrong turns, she finds herself standing before the enormous, automatic doors, currently sealed shut from the inside in the name of confidentiality. Ellicent takes up a spot on the wall beside them. Sliding down to sit of the floor, extending her necronian leg out in front of her. She thanks the Emperor everyday that she'd been allowed to keep it. The memory of her arm's failures- both today's and the dozens that have come before- are painfully fresh in her mind. She isn't sure if she could cope with a broken malfunctioning leg, too; she'd barely even be able to walk.

But it's not just that.

Absently, Ellicent holds her left hand in her right. It's larger that her necronian hand had been; the fingers are thicker, the edges of its metal more jagged. Each its fingertips are encased in ceramite, which is sharpened to points as sharp as talons. It's a monsterous looking thing, really. More similar in appearance to a torture device than a protesthetic limb. How surprising, then, that a device as fearsome as this is utterly repulsed by the machine spirits within Ellicent's body.

Or is it?

The rumble of the doors beside her opening distracts her from her spiralling thoughts. She gets to her feet just as the first of the space marines are leaving the room. There are nine in total. Six of whom, Ellicent recognises as being from squad Talasa- the same Astartes who'd rescued her, Gadriel and Titus from the Drukhari ship Dark Star, almost two weeks ago. They acknowledge Ellicent with curt, yet cordial nods. She returns the gestures in kind.

Chairon passes through next. The moment he spots Ellicent, his face breaks out into a grin. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the Lady Gadriel herself," he says. "What a pleasant sight to end a brief upon."

Ellicent bows her head in an exaggerated curtsy that borders on facetiousness. "Oh, my Lord Chairon, you flatter me so!"

Chairon chuckles. Already, she can see his retort sitting on his lips, but before he can open his mouth, he is pushed aside by someone at his back. "That's enough out of you. Remember to whom you're speaking."

Gadriel's tone is clipped, almost snappy. Standing beside Chairon now, his pretty, delicate features are prickly with irritation. Too much so to have been caused only by his brother's remarks.

"Easy, darling," Ellicent says, using the same tone she might if she were calming an agitated dog. "It's only banter." Walking up to him, she wraps both arms around his forearm. "Everyone here knows I only have eyes for you."

The bravado drains from Gadriel's face. Colour creeps up his neck to colour his cheeks, his silver hair and dull-coloured robes making it stand out all the more. Ellicent exchanges amused glances with Chairon. The other ultramarine gives her a little wave. "I'll see you two around, then," he says before taking his leave. Ellicent returns his wave, while Gadriel simply watch him go.

"You weren't actually jealous just now, were you?" Ellicent asks.

Gadriel looks at her sharply. "What? No, of course not."

Ellicent raises a dubious eyebrow. The red in Gadriel's cheeks deepens a little and he looks away with a scowl. "Fine," he murmurs. "But it wasn't... intentional."

"A symptom of some other frustration?"

"That's the one."

Ellicent runs her organic hand up and down his bare forearm, mindful not to disturb the neural ports embedded there. "Wanna talk about it?"

Gadriel sighs. "There's nothing really to say," he admits. "It's just that Throne-damned Chaplain, stirring the proverbial pot without cause or meaning."

"The Chaplain?" Ellicent's heart leaps into her throat.

Seeing it on her face, Gadriel adds hurriedly; "Don't worry, it's nothing to do with us. It's something else. Something that happened between Titus and I, way back during the Avax campaign."

"The Avax campaign..." Ellicent combs her memory. Realisation dawns. "You don't mean that... that thing with the astropath, do you?"

The look on Gadriel’s face is confirmation enough. Ellicent furrows her brow, both concerned and confused. "But why? That was years ago, wasn't it?"

"It was," Gadriel says bitterly. "But even so, the Chaplain hounds me about it. And the strangest part is that he doesn't even seem interested in why I was suspicious of Titus, either. Rather, he demands to know why I am no longer."

"Sounds like he's digging for dirt," Ellicent murmurs.

"That's exactly what it is," Gadriel replies. A line of tension feathers along his smooth, square jaw. "And it grates me like nothing else."

Ellicent bites her lip, but says nothing. Gadriel continues. "Titus doesn't deserve such suspicion. He never has. The only reasons I subjected him to it were my own, personal biases, and I was wrong to fall victim to them. Time and time again, I have explained this to the Chaplain. And still, he continues to press me. Because for whatever reason, he's convinced Titus is guilty of... I don't know. I don't even think he knows. I think that whoreson has some personal slight against the lieutenant, and he's trying to leverage my mistake to... well, as you said, to dig up dirt."

"Doesn't sound like behaviour very becoming of an Astartes chaplain."

Gadriel snorts. "Yes, well. It seems that not even space marines are immune to human pettiness."

Ellicent laughs, but only briefly. And afterwards, her demeanor is serious again. "There's something else though, isn't there?"

Gadriel makes a sound that's part wince, part sigh. She can practically feel the reluctance radiating from him. "Maybe," he says shortly.

Ellicent raises her eyebrows expectantly.

Gadriel sighs again. "I suppose I... I don't enjoy being reminded of it. Of Avax, I mean."

"Titus has forgiven you for it though, right?" Ellicent says.

He smiles pensively. "I don't think he even blamed me for it in the first place. Not even at the time. No, it's not that. It's..." He shakes his head. "I don't know. I just... I'd rather leave such things in the past, if I can. I don't like being reminded of my mistakes."

"I know you don't," Ellicent says gently. "You always were a perfectionist; not just in your actions, but your moral compass, too." Gently, she resumes rubbing his arm. "Always striving to keep it pointed north, no matter how impossible the situation might be."

"Avax wasn't an impossible situation," Gadriel murmurs. "It was my fault. My weakness-"

"Bullshit it was weakness. You were misinformed. You didn't know all the facts, and Titus wasn't exactly forthcoming with them, either, I might add."

"So it was his fault?"

"'Course not," Ellicent says. "He had his reasons at the time. Same as you. It was a shitty situation, and you both did what you felt you had to based on what you both knew. It's as simple as that."

Gadriel stares at the ground. His expression, however, isn't morose. It's thoughtful. He slips his arm out of her grip, putting his hand around her shoulders and gently pulling her into him. Her head comes to rest just below his armpit.

"You're right," he says finally. "I know you're right. Just a matter of actually believing it, now."

Ellicent leans into him, wrapping her arms around his middle. "You will. Just give it time. And if you forget, I'll remind you."

Gadriel chuckles. Against her ear, Ellicent feels the sound reverberating through his rib plate. "How did I ever make it this far without you?"

"From what I know? Through sheer luck and the mercy of the Emperor alone."

Gadriel laughs again. "You wound me, Ellie. You're not wrong, but you wound me nonetheless."

"Lucky they built you so tough, then," Ellicent smiles.

Gadriel squeezes her shoulder. "How about you, my love?" he asks. "The Magos has been good to you, I hope?"

The question is harmless, but Ellicent can hear the threat veiled thinly behind his tone. It makes her chuckle. "Don't worry, Galeo has been fantastic to me. Very respectful with his studies, and very patient in showing me all my new duties."

Gadriel gives a satisfied grunt. "And what about the new arm?"

Now, Ellicent falters. Her chest winds itself into a twisted knot, and she draws her left arm in close to her chest. "Yeah," she says. "Yeah it's... it's okay."

Gadriel pulls her closer to him. She glances up to find him chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Tell me," he says softly. "Is that "okay" as in you're okay? Or "okay" as in you don't want to talk about it yet?"

Ellicent swallows tightly. "The second one," she murmurs.

"I see." Squeezing her shoulder again, he drops to one knee so he is at her eye level. His expression is as gentle as his tone. "What do you need for that to change? Time? Privacy?"

"Second again," she replies. "It's... it's about the eighty percent."

Gadriel understands her meaning right away. "Alright. Head to our quarters, then. I will meet you there."

"You won't just come with?"

He clenches his jaw. Tenderly, he strokes her cheek with his thumb. "Not with the Chaplain and his staff slinking about," he says.

"Ah. Fair enough."

Rising to his full height once more, Gadriel flashes her a small, knowing smile. "I'll see you soon."

Ellicent nods. Still, her stomach feels like it's full of rocks, but the lump in her throat has shrunken a bit. As she parts ways with Gadriel, she clasps the bicep of her left arm. The cold of its metal bites her palm and fingertips. Even after holding it for several minutes, it refuses to warm even a little.

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

Just as promised, Gadriel is already there when Ellicent arrives at their shared quarters. He's sitting at the head of their bunk, his back resting against the wall. The moment Ellicent steps inside, he's waving her over, ordering her to come and join him. With a soft-spoken laugh, Ellicent kicks off her boots and does just that.

Laying down within his arm, she curls up up against his broad, chiselled chest, draping an arm across his middle and resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. Gadriel's arm loops around her waist. In long, soothing strokes, he caresses her back with one giant hand. "Alright," he says softly. "Now, tell me; what's troubling you, my love?"

Ellicent bites her lip. A reluctant sigh escapes through her nose. "My arm," she finally says. "It had another spasm today. Galeo managed to fix it, but not permenantly."

"Why not?" Gadriel asks.

"'Cause of my implants. The bionics keep rejecting them. No matter how many adjustments Galeo makes or new models he builds, same thing always happens." Ellicent pauses. Fingers of dejection creep into her voice. "They hook up to my body, see all the alien tech inside me, and their spirits just freak."

"Sounds like the Magos' problem, no?"

Ellicent stares at her hand, the one resting on Gadriel's belly. "No," she murmurs. "No. It's... it's me. I'm the problem."

A beat of silence passes. Taut with undeclared sadness. Gadriel breaks it with a soft, gentle question. "Why would you think that?"

"Because it's true," Ellicent says quietly. "Or it feels true, at least. Feels like I'm... tainted. Or damaged. Or... or just plain wrong."

She rambling a little now, letting all the doubts and terrible things her thoughts have spun spill out into the open air. With every one she says, her throat closes over a little more. Tightening her voice and bringing tears to her eyes. Gadriel listens dutifully. But as she goes on, the hand around her waist tightens and she hears his breath hitch. "Forgive me, but I must to stop you there. I can't bear listening to you talk like that any longer."

His tone suggests he's personally offended. Despite herself, it makes Ellicent laugh. "Gadriel-"

"I'm serious, Ellie." He covers the hand she has resting across his middle with his- none other than her prosthetic one- and squeezes it tightly. Even with its imperfect nerves, Ellicent feels it no less potently. "For Terra's sake, you're not tainted or damaged. You're a survivor. You should bear your implants like battle scars; evidence of your overcoming impossible odds with your dignity and humanity intact. That's how I see them. And everyone else who cares for you- the Magos, my brothers- that's how they see them, too."

"The laws of the Imperium might disagree."

"You mean the same laws that believed Demetrian Titus a heretic?"

That makes Ellicent smirk. "Fair point, that."

Tilting his head down, Gadriel plants a long kiss on the crown of her head. "It's more than fair," he whispers. "It's the truth, Ellie. I mean that."

Befoee she has the chance to swallow them, tears are welling in Ellicent’s eyes. An invisible weight has evaporated from her chest, and suddenly her prosthetic doesn't feel so cold and stiff.

She kisses Gadriel lightly on the collarbone, then on the side of his neck. "Thank you," she whispers.

Gadriel pulls her closer. "Anytime," he whispers back.

"You're the best."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Of course; you wouldn't have settled for me if I weren't."

Despite the tears in her eyes, Ellicent can't help but smile. "That was a good save. For a second there, you almost sounded arrogant."

"Who, me? I would never."

Her smile breaks as she starts laughing. From Gadriel's attempt at humour, sure, but more than anything, it's from the sudden, overwhelming release of tension from her body. She hadn't realised how bad it'd been; how tightly insecurity had been clutching her, how frayed anxiety had left her nerves.

And all it had taken to relieve both was a but few moments in Gadriel's arms.

This is why Ellicent loves him. Why, in the moments where she'd lost all hope, she'd drawn strength from him instead. He completes her. He balances her. He fills the gaps in her mind and mends the holes in her heart. And he does it all without even having to try.

Eventually, after her laughter has died away, Ellicent lifts her head gazes up at Gadriel. Even from this angle, he's inhumanly handsome. Another thing she loves about him. "I ran into Ventris earlier. He told me you were looking for me. Needed me for something."

Gadriel's eyes widen slightly, as if only just remembering. "That's right, I did. I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Well, go on then," Ellicent says.

"There's someone I want you to meet. A baseline woman. A kind soul, but a lonely one. She could use a friend like you, and I believe you'd like her a lot, too."

"Oh yeah? What's her name."

A smile colours Gadriel's voice. "Lady Mirian Valerius."

"Valerius? As in House Valerius?!"

"The one and only."

Ellicent gapes at him. The faculty for speech has fled her entirely. "But- how? Why? How did she even-"

Gadriel interrupts her babbling with a chuckle. "It's a long story from what I've heard. But it is also hers to tell."

Ellicent just blinks at him. "I-" she eventually stammers. "Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well... You know. Would it be safe? I mean, she's a noblewoman. If she were to learn... what I am-"

"What happened to you, you mean," Gadriel corrects.

Ellicent smiles. In gratitude she nuzzles her face into his neck. "Sorry, what happened to me. If she were to learn of that, what if she... I don't know... told someone? Someone powerful?"

"If I thought she might do that," Gadriel says. "I would never have suggested it."

Ellicent can't disagree with him there. "Alright. I'll try and track her down."

"Thank you." She feels his lips press against the top of her head. "Make sure you tell me how it goes."

Ellicent nods against his chest. "I will."

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

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi @passionofthesith @finchly-tintinnabulation @justfreakynothingelse @mooniequeen

[moulong]

How I describe Ventris to other people:

and Ventris actually looks like:

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

okay hear me out, what if the daemonculaba was just abo

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

Oh honey, lemme tell you about the Celestial Lions and their famous """ork sniper""" nemeses.

Looking back at this post, I regret the response I made. I have spent so goddamn much time arguing with people--on Reddit AND on Tumblr--that the Imperium of Man is NOT portrayed as The Good Guys in its media that just seeing the concept brought up provokes the kind of frothing-mouthed, wild-eyed visceral rage that only a frustrated nerd Angry About Her Blorbos can bring to the table. So when @bent-bristles innocently suggested an idea that felt like a step in the direction of The Imperium Could Be Good Guys, I...well, I had a kneejerk reaction. And I'm sorry for that, I truly am. They didn't deserve that level of hostility and sarcasm.

The answer @brent-bristles deserves is: that has already happened in canonical media. The Celestial Lions publicly objected to an Inquisitor's Exterminatus decision, even going so far as to condemn the Inquisition itself. They were subjected to an extreme, intense campaign of sabotage that nearly wiped out their chapter. Even to this day, they have never received their Primaris reinforcements, and their most recent chapter master, Ekene Dubaku, was killed by a Callidus assassin. The Space Wolves low-key went to war with the Inquisition and the Gray Knights during the Months of Shame in order to protect the baseline survivors of the First War for Armaggedon. I haven't read the books myself, but I'm told that the Uriel Ventris books spend a lot of time musing on what it's like to be a Space Marine--and yes, he does break the Codex Astartes, and he does pay an extremely heavy price for it. Like, sent-on-a-Death-Oath, how-the-fuck-did-you-survive-that price. I'm sure other lore nerds could pull even more characters and chapters from their bookshelves.

Now full disclosure, I haven't read about any of these guys in-depth; I learned about them via fandom osmosis, and then looked them up on the Lexicanum for more details. So I can't vouch for the quality of their books. But here's a list of books about the chapters and people I mentioned:

Uriel Ventris books (duh), by Graham McNeill. The Codex violation and consequences are covered in Warriors of Ultramar, "Consequences," and Dead Sky, Black Sun. Do note that the last book is the source of the notorious Daemonculaba so, uh, caveat emptor.

Blood and Fire, by Aaron Dembski-Bowden. The Celestial Lions send distress call to the Black Templars as the Inquisition drives them to extinction.

The Emperor's Gift, by Aaron Dembski-Bowden. The Months of Shame are covered in the later chapters of the book.

I think the next step for Warhammer is deviant Space Marines. Not more prone to heresy or technically being mutants, but an astartes that retains their humanity and thus questions the means and methods of the Imperium. Like, all the human characters that act as foils to astartes now, are just fellow astartes?

[moociaoafterdark]

Ultramarine Gene Flaw AU: Farm edition.

You thirsty bastards look what you did. You read the tittle. You heard of UltraMOOrines before. You know what you're about to read. The genetic flaw of the Ultramarines is that they're essentially cattle. Not just "GW's cash cows" kind of cattle. Not just "Throw enough Ultramarines at the problem and hope that will solve it" kind of cattle. They have cow/bull like features. It is mostly tied to their behavior. In this AU, they're much more likely to act out and be aggressive (something that may or may not be canon?? idk, I know Robu's geneseed is one of the purest ones). However, they're also way more protective of each other, as well as being more likely to be friendly with humans (unless they piss the Ultramoorines off). They do have other changes, though. The Ultramarines are split into two types: bulls and cows. Bulls usually stand out because of their increased height (being taller than their battle brothers), as well as being more aggressive, something that they learn how to temper. Some also may grow tiny numbs on their head, that if left untreated may turn into horns. This is often mistaken as a sign of corruption, but in reality, those horns are completely harmless and don't indicate anything. A bull Ultramarine may choose to surgically remove them, or, he may choose to keep them to use in combat. In those cases, they are equipped with specialized helmets, that allow for full head protection and coverage, but leave the horns poking out. Bulls are also noted to be the only Astartes capable of reproduction, albeit with their fellow battle brothers, cows in particular. Cows usually look no different from other Astartes, though they also can grow out horns, just like bulls, but this is a much rarer occurrence. In case a cow chooses to keep the horns, he also will be provided with a modified helmet. Cow Ultramarines are capable of lactation and the milk, as well as its consumption, has become an important part of the Chapter's culture. Sampling milk from one's battle brother is a very delicate and intimate process. Usually, though, it is gathered by the serfs and, in more notable cases, Apothecary, and is redistributed to the rest of the Chapter. Considering that the large quantity of milk in his chest makes the Ultramarine uncomfortable and feel heavy, he is more than happy to share milk. The milk of a cow Ultramarine is extremely nutritious and was proved to increase Astartes' healing capabilities. This is why cows, despite what one may think, are really valued as battle brothers. The cows are also still seen as Space Marines, therefore they are expected to and are sent to engage in combat. Cows are also capable of pregnancy, though they only can get impregnated by the bulls. The newborns are usually born as extremely promising, physically strong and in great health, meaning the Ultramarines and their Chapters are never in shortage of new possible recruits. Boys that were born from cow Ultramarines are also notably more likely to survive the grueling process of being converted into an Astartes. It is after birth that a cow's aggression levels rise significantly, which can only be explained by a supposed "maternal instinct" built into their genome. *ehem* So, which one of the Ultraboys is who? (the ones I can name from the top of my head)

Marneus Calgar - bull, of course. Did not remove his horns. Agemman Severus - bull. Removes his horns. Varro Tigurius - cow, of course. Also did not remove his horns. Has given birth to at least a couple of kids by now. guess who the father is Cato Sicarius - cow, much to everyone's surprise. Doesn't remove his horns in order to pretend to be bull. Haven't given birth to a kid... yet. Uriel Ventris - cow. Removes his horns regularly. Unknown if he has any children. Demetrian Titus - bull. Used to keep his horns, but after his time in the Deathwatch, got a habit to regularly remove them instead. Leandros - cow. Removes his horns. Was recently found to be with a child. Gadriel - cow. Doesn't remove his horns. Chairon - bull. Doesn't remove his horns. (honorable mention) Malum Caedo - bull. Removes his horns, surprisingly. Maybe he really likes his bird aesthetic? What of Ultrapeepaw himself, Roboute Guilliman? He got the best (and worst) of both worlds ~

@twerk4macragge @robot-roadtrip-rants THERE, YOU HAPPY NOW?

[magnifigal]

The Lord of the Unfleshed from the Uriel Ventris Novels. Big BIG thanks to Jackbolger18 on twitter for commissioning me and giving me the opportunity of letting me expand my skills.

[sjax001]

UltraHamsters and Guilliham

[ladymirdan]

The fact that none of you degenerate monsterfuckers out there has been writing any Uriel Ventris/ Unfleshed fic is disgraceful.

[casualevan]

I'm quite happy SpaceMarine2 is bringing in more fans and helping everyone realize the Practical and Theoretical of how cool the Ultramarines are. Welcome to Warhammer It is a grim and dark and terrible dystopia full of cosmic body War Horrors but that doesn't mean we can't have fun playing with toys in it.

[moulong]

poor Uriel was thrown into prison by Honsou

（I swear I drew this respectfully）

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

actually now that I think of it, Cato must have fucked the living daylights outta Ventris after he got back from the Eye of Terror. There is no way you can convince me that Cato wouldn’t find “surviving Death Oath to the Eye of Terror” to be the hottest thing he’s ever heard of

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Uriel's subtle revenge

Past =-= Next

Author's note: y'all inspired me to make a Uriel Ventris chapter with the Serf Reader. I hope y'all enjoy!

Warnings: A bit of Bully Cato, let me know if I need to add more.

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @bleedingichorhearts @kit-williams @barn-anon @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

Tagged: @i-am-a-dragon34 @egrets-not-regrets , @gra93fruit-blog

‘Sometimes,’ Uriel Thinks to himself as he carefully tracks down one particular Serf that comes from his planet of birth from a farming community near where he'd grown up, “I think Captain Sicarius believes His own hype a little too much.’

While the Captain of the Second company is an exceptional fighter with few who could match him in sword, bolter, and tactics. His personality was something that rubbed others the wrong way, like stroking a cat's fur the wrong way far too roughly.

He spots the Serf dutifully tending to their tasks, their hair pinned up and out of the way as they diligently clean the room. They look up and around, feeling eyes on them. They look into his eyes briefly before they look down and properly Bow to him, pausing their work.

“Greetings, Lord Angel,” They say with very care pronunciation.

Uriel remembers when he had Pasinius were young Aspirants and they’d been with a whole barracks full of boys within the acceptable age range from every planet within Ultramar and the teasing and mockery he and his oldest friend had gotten for their ‘hick planet accent’.

Your particular version of their shared accent is really adorable in his opinion. Even when you are trying to hide it, which is a shame in his opinion.

“Greetings Serf,” he says, allowing his Calthian accent to come through.

Their head shot up and they stared at him wide eyed for a moment. Recognizing their shared accent.

“I hear you come from a place near where I used to live,” Uriel continued. “Have the grox-cheeses in the deep caves aged into the wine-dark musk that I remember?”

“Yes, and the festival of cheese wheels happened a few months before I left, Lord Angel,” you reply, your accent thickening back to what it was before you'd come aboard the space ship.

You knew that The Angels of Ultramar are from all over the planets under the protective Custody of the Imperial Regent. But you hadn't realized that one of the farm boys of Calth had actually managed to become an Angel, from what you can read of his Armor, he's a Captain, which is somewhat high ranking. Although at least as far as you can tell, it is.

Uriel and you talk about the various festivals and celebrations that their towns share, to mark the seasons and other important Holidays and events that are celebrated either for local planetary things, or for more important Imperium wide events.

Uriel is regaling you about one of the times he had done the Space Cooper's-hill cheese rolling and wake, one Of the few that he'd participated in before becoming an Aspirant.

You had started to smile and giggle as Uriel was describing something when a voice called out, haughty, And annoyed, “tch, must you speak in such a low way Ventris?”

Uriel's smile only faded somewhat, but his eyes sharpen at the way that you were slightly edging away from the sharp, sour tones of Captain Sicarius.

Uriel allowed himself to glance towards the older Ultramarine, noticing the way he was fuming and scowling at the pair of them.

Uriel stopped himself from smirking a little bit as he realized just how Annoyed the noble-blooded Ultramarine was.

“Ah, Lassie,” Uriel drawls, thickening his accent further, glancing down at you with an innocuous smile,“th’ Cap is fair steam'd.”

“Speak. Properly,” Cato hisses at his annoying younger brother. “You are the Fourth Captain of the Ultramarines.”

Cato clenches his fists and relaxes them a couple of times. He had been going in this direction for a purpose, but what that way flew out of his head when he had heard and seen Uriel speaking with you.

And realizing one of the things is that had bugged him about you. That deeply annoyed him, throne-Cursed Ventris is also from Calth. And the little snot likes to use that accent, which no one but him and his fellow country Bumpkins can understand.

He is ignoring the fact that part of the reason he's so angry is that Ventris got you to smile and giggle at him. He should go to an Apothecary because one of his hearts had started hurting A little to see you look at a different Space Marine like that. Then the bizarre hurt turned into welcome and familiar rage.

“If you aren't doing anything important,” Cato barks at the pair of Calthians,”stop blocking the hallways and get back to work.”

You started to curl in on yourself As a hot flush of shame has your cheeks turning red. You had continued to work, albeit At a slower pace as you spoke and listened to Captain Sicarius's word.

“I think you need to dislodge your sword from your scrotum,” Ventris snarks at Cato.

Cato feels a vein start to throb in his forehead at the younger Captain’s Words." You and I need to go to the sparring ring. Now.”

“Gladly,” Uriel says, giving you a nod before following after an angrily stomping Cato.

He was glad he was able to speak with you for a little while. There aren't many fellow Calthians that go off planet.

[nereidof40k]

Alyena Goes to Macragge Part 6: A Wild Ventris appears, AKA Cato Would Like To Duel The Author

On my way back from the optician, I got an idea. Not the longest chapter, but I had to get this idea out even though my hand hurts.

Nobody gossips like Ultramarines. This is a fact.

It doesn’t take Uriel Ventris long to show up, beelining to where Alyena is sitting, on the couch in Guilliman’s office. Dropping a thick ultramarine blue blanket on her shoulders, setting a steaming mug of hot chocolate on the table.

“It is good to see you well, my lady. You gave us quite a fright.”

Alyena blinks, pulling the very soft blanket around herself. This is awkward. All this fuss and attention. What is one to do in this situation? This can’t be hacked or hidden from.

“Why?”

He laughed, but it was a friendly kind of laugh.

“You jest, Lady Alyena. We feared you had been taken, that some harm had come to you.”

She wrapped her hands around the steaming mug.

“Nah, apart from Sicarius trying to strangle me and almost falling off the top of this building nothing happened.”

Alyena slammed her hands over her ears at the twin shouts of “WHAT?” from Primarch and Astartes alike.

Uriel barely managing to save the hot chocolate from watering the carpet.

Shaking with fury, he thrust the mug at her.

“Drink this, Lady Alyena. It sounds as if you are in great need of the nourishment.”

Taking a cautious sip, she made an absolutely obscene noise of pleasure, her eyes going wide. “So good. If this is hot chocolate, is there cold chocolate?”

Roboute dived into his desk drawer, retrieving a shiny foil wrapped bar and tossing it to Alyena. Who caught it easily.

Rising, he handed over his helmet. “We’re going to have a talk with Sicarius. If you need anything, vox one of us The numbers are already programmed in.”

Alyena nodded, munching on the chocolate bar.

As they left the office, they could hear Alyena talking on the vox. “Uncle Lion, what did you mean when you said I could do better?

[aqua-the-smiter]

Healing takes a long, long time. Who knows. It may never come. Cato Sicarius x female reader you are his only solace PART 3, APPARENTLY. I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED. Divider by @squishyowl . I'm sorry I keep @ing you but Cato is living rent fucking free in my head Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0z53F9I-93M

Fall with me, come on and fall with me, into the dark and scary hole inside the bottom of the sea ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Things weren't perfect. But they seemed to be better, at least. Even if only marginally.

Cato was happier than you'd ever seen him in the weeks since you got together. At least, when he was with you. He was a surprisingly affectionate man once you got past his shell. He was still lonely, still in pain, but he had you, and he loved you. And he wasn't ashamed to show it either.

Some Ultramarines congratulated him on it. A few seemed a little envious. That one ambassador that Cato had had less pleasant dealings had glared at you like you insulted her mother. Overall though, the reaction was positive. Even Lord Guilliman seemed pleased, laying a hand on Cato's shoulder.

Astartes getting girlfriends wasn't common, but it wasn't entirely unheard of either. Most kept quiet about it. While he didn't trumpet from the rooftops about you, he wasn't afraid to kiss you or let you kiss him in public when you accompanied him, or allow you to hold his hand, or slip your hand around his elbow (as best you could) so the two of you could walk arm and arm together.

And flowers. You loved flowers, and every day when he came to you he'd present you with some, weaving them into your hair or tucking them behind your ears. You got the impression he enjoyed finding and giving them to you as much as you enjoyed receiving them, and you were filling out a whole book full of pressed and dried blooms.

He even had a pet name for you. Peahen, after the female of the numerous peafowl that inhabited Macragge. They had been brought over by early settlers and found a very comfortable niche for themselves. The males were especially pretty, with cobalt blue bodies and magnificent, long tails of green and iridescent eye spots that could spread out into a huge fan of feathers. The females were less showy, with plain brown and white feathers, but even they had a splash of bright blue and green on their necks. And the chicks were absolutely adorable.

The name always made you giggle. You supposed Cato was a like a peacock with his bright blue armor and plumed helmet. Your peacock.

For your part, you made up for things by being equally as affectionate as possible. It was pretty clear that he needed it. Giving it to him as freely as he did to you. You would let him scoop you up and carry you around just because he felt like doing it, or rest his head in your lap when he was particularly frustrated or put out. Stroking his hair, whispering to him softly that things would be just fine. He didn't seem like he believed it, but it made him happy to hear from you.

But...it was still pretty clear he wasn't doing well, and that irritated you to no end. You wanted to help him. You want to scream at everyone who made him feel like he had nobody to talk to about his troubles. And you would, too. You felt fiercely protective of him.

It was like he was in a hole. A deep, dark pit in his own head that he couldn't climb out of. Or he'd just gotten used to sitting in the dirt. Sometimes misery and pain could be awful comfortable if you lived with it long enough. Even if you didn't want it to be. Or if not that, then extremely hard to crawl out of. Like a tar pit.

And you weren't the only one who noticed his poor state, either.

Roboute Guilliman leaned back in his chair. In one hand was a mug of steaming mountain laurel tea. On a very small clear spot on his desk was a small plate that held some Eldar sweets Yvraine had brought for their weekly chat over tea. She held her teacup in the toes of her left foot, a plate in her right hand, and her gryrinx Alorynis tucked under her left arm. He kept trying to fling himself into Guilliman's lap, which he seemed to prefer because it was bigger.

He loved these meetings with her. They had become a weekly thing under the guise of "negotiation", and she was an accepted sight around the Fortress of Hera. It was nothing short of a relief to have her to talk to.

"Let him sit." Roboute said, amused as he watched the feline struggle.

"He'll get your lovely blue toga covered in sheddings." Yvraine said, sipping her tea. Placing Alorynis in his lap anyway. The gryrinx immediately curled into a happy ball, purring.

He stroked the creature's back, smiling. Although she could see it didn't reach his eyes. "I don't mind. I like cats."

"Robu, you're frowning again." She poked his wrinkled forehead. "What's on your mind this time?"

"Nothing unusual. I am concerned about one of my sons. Among other things."

"Which one?" She said, amused. "You have so many. I'm jealous."

He snorted. "Very funny, you unbearable xenos witch. It is Cato Sicarius."

"Ah yes. The one who never smiles."

"Most Astartes don't smile too often." Roboute pointed out.

"He only has two expressions from what I've seen. Grinding his teeth behind his lips, and a thousand yard stare."

"He's been happier recently. But that's because of his serf, I believe. The root problem is still there."

Despite her teasing, her expression was sympathetic. "What do you mean?"

"He used to be a very...arrogant man. He has gone through much humbling since, but I do not think all of it has been beneficial. I think he is as bad as he was in some aspects, but in the very different way. Instead of pride, it is pain that guides his actions. Although he adamantly refuses to talk about it to anyone."

"Have you tried asking him directly? He wouldn't refuse you."

"No, but forcing him to speak will do no good either. It will make him more evasive and mistrustful." He sighed. "I have asked, but only vaguely. I do not want to be overbearing to my Astartes, but I am worried about Cato. He pulls away from his brothers, and from me. He isolates himself, and wanders around in the night. There is no light in his eyes."

"Do you have any idea as to why?" Yvraine asked. "Maybe he just prefers to be alone."

"No. Some years ago, a ship he was traveling on got lost in the Warp. It was trapped for five years, aimless and constantly being invaded by daemons and Warpborn horrors. Many of his men died. I believe it has traumatized him."

Yvraine's ears flicked up in surprise. She looked sober. "I didn't know that was even possible. What does an Angel of Death need to see that will scar his mind so deeply?"

"It is very possible. Nobody likes to talk about it, but it is. Granted, it is also not common. In that you are correct. It takes a special kind of hell to leave that kind of scarring."

"But I suppose being lost in the Warp for five years is as special kind of hell."

"It is."

"He also doesn't seem to popular with your boys. I've heard some...less than flattering remarks."

"You probably hear everything with those ears." He said with a small smile. She snorted a laugh. "He is...a divisive figure. Many respect him. Many cannot stand him. I know one of my ambassadors really dislikes him."

"I've heard people calling him sexist."

"He is not. That rumor is stupid." Roboute said, thoroughly tired of it. "I thought my sons were more mature, but apparently not."

"Boys will be boys Robu." She pinched his cheek.

He sighed. "I wish to help him, but I don't know how. And..." He trailed off, uncertain of how much to share.

"Go on Robu. You know I won't breathe a word of it."

She read him like an open book. He loved that woman. "The mission I sent the Redeemed on. It is a success so far. If all goes well, I will be off to Medusa soon. If that goes well, I will need Cato then. And I will need him at his sharpest. Beyond, even."

The Redeemed were a...peculiar chapter of Astartes under Roboute's direct control. They were perfectly normal, except for the fact that it was entirely made up of former Chaos and traitor marines. He had a soft spot for them, and they were by far his best weapon against daemons and Warp spawn of all kinds.

"Ah. The thing with your brother?"

"Yes." That was the end of that train of discussion. "I know I cannot rush his healing, but I do not believe he has even begun to heal. His wounds still bleed. I fear if I try and intervene I will make things worse. I do not wish to hurt him."

"You said he had a serf he's fond of. It seems he's not entirely without comfort."

"He loves her. And it is good he has her. He does not trust his brothers with this. He does not trust me with this. Let him have her. Someone."

"I think you could reach out to him too. Don't force him, but merely inquire. Tell him you've noticed his change in behavior and be honest about your concerns. You are still his father, after a strange fashion. Maybe he could use some kind words from his Primarch. His Primarch certainly needs kind words too from time to time."

He smiled at that. "Not inaccurate. I will see what I can do. Maybe talk to his serf as well."

"See? There's the Robu I know. Always making plans." She patted his head. "And you are still as infuriating as ever." "Shut up and drink your tea before it gets cold." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful evening. The light of the setting sun was golden, the day was warm and the breeze was cool. It was nice enough that even the Ultramarines took notice, spending their small amount of free time outside in snatches.

Cato sighed. The wind made his robes ripple and flutter. He'd received a note inviting him to share a jug of wine and some small talk with a few other officers. His first instinct was to refuse, but then he remembered he was trying to retain some semblance of normality. So now he felt obligated to show up. He would have brought you with him, but you were fast sleep in the sunshine. Instead he'd covered you up with his cape and let you nap. You were cute like that anyway.

He found the others sitting in the shade of an old willow tree, the wind rustling the long branches. It sounded like rattling bones. Marneus, Uriel, and Demetrian were scattered across the benches around the trunk. They all looked unusually relaxed and in good spirits.

"Sicarius."

"Cato."

"Cato."

He sat on the edge of the bench Titus was on, who promptly handed him a clay cup. The liquid inside was a dark red, dry and sour tasting.

"Chapter master, Uriel, Titus." He nodded to each. "I wasn't expecting an invitation. Did anything special happen?" He asked, keeping his tone neutral.

"Can't we just want to enjoy your company?" Titus asked, smacking his shoulder.

He snorted. "Nobody enjoys my company. I thought that was established."

"That serf of yours seems to enjoy it. Congratulations on that." Uriel smiled at him. "I never would have guessed you to be the type to seek out something like that."

Titus nodded. "It's very rare, but not unheard of. I know the Chapter Master had a girl once, when he was young and attractive."

Calgar raised a grayed eyebrow. "What do you mean was?"

"Well...you are old." Uriel offered.

"Brilliant observation Ventris. It's that tactical genius that made you captain of the fourth."

Uriel and Titus both snickered at that. Cato offered a small smile at the Chapter Master's witticism. He took a sip of the wine to offset the fact that he wasn't laughing. A small one, though. It was starting to look a bit too much like blood for his comfort.

Then Marneus's gaze turned squarely on Cato. "But I'm not so old that a replacement needs to be considered yet. Sicarius."

He nearly choked on his wine. "Who, me? Absolutely not. I don't want to be Chapter Master. Keep your chair."

The thought was utterly laughable. He had aspired to it. Once. Not anymore though. he'd already proved himself too incompetent for that seat.

That earned him three raised eyebrows.

"What happened to you, Cato?" Uriel asked. "I thought you were counting down the days until Calgar was unavailable."

"I was. When I was young, and still had hope." He replied, then seeing the looks he was getting, "But it doesn't look like our venerable Chapter Master will be abdicating anytime soon." He added, forcing a joke.

"1st Captain Severus will be pleased to hear it." Titus told him with a grin.

"Seems I get a break from young upstarts for a while." Calgar said wryly.

"And when the time comes may someone worthy take your place."

He held up his cup in salute to the chapter master. Hoping that they believed his words were true. Because they were. Someone worthy. Not him.

The others raised their cups in return before taking a swig.

"Maybe one of you two." He added.

Titus shook his head. "I think I'm happier where I am."

"I never considered it." Uriel admitted. "I try to keep my aspirations reasonable."

"You would be a good pick though." Titus mused, agreeing with Cato.

He nodded.

"You have the track record." Calgar nodded slowly. "If you're not dead by the time I am, and if Agemman doesn't want to job for some reason."

"You're a hero, Uriel. The things you have accomplished go beyond even our line of duty." Cato said. "I believe you have a lot of qualities the Primarch likes to see in us as well. That might make you more a favorable choice."

"Don't sell yourself short Cato. You have done a lot of good too. Lord Guilliman wouldn't have made you captain of the Victrix for nothing."

The wine was starting to acquire an oddly metallic taste. Like iron. "Everything I have done has come off the heels of a spectacular blunder."

"I got sent off to Medrenguard because I didn't follow the Codex Astartes. Remember?"

Cato shook his head. "You did what needed to be done. I sent my men to their deaths."

"The Emperor's Will was not your fault, Sicarius." Calgar interjected. "Blaming yourself accomplishes nothing."

"And what about the losses at Damnos? Or Black Reach? I have proven time and time again that I am not a good commander."

"There is no leader of men who has only victories. Not even Lord Guilliman can claim that. You have failed, and you have failed hard. That is certainly true. But you have learned from it since. I doubt you would make the same mistakes again. Would you?"

"Of course not."

"There you have it then."

He felt a warmth in his chest for a moment before the doubts he held to be truths reasserted themselves. He had missed this. This fellowship. It was like he had been gifted a taste of the brotherhood he had lost, and he hadn't realized how bitterly he had missed it.

"That is something easier said than applied." He countered, and before he could stop himself, added. "Some things still haunt me."

It eve smelled like blood now.

Uriel nodded sagely. "I still think about the things I saw on Medrenguard sometimes. Although time has sanded the edges a great deal."

"Yes, of course." He said, a little too quickly. "It always does. But it's still unpleasant."

It didn't. He thought. Everything is still as sharp and painful as ever. Do you still smell the charnel reek? Do you still hear the screaming and moaning of the poor wretches of the Daemonculaba? Is your sleep full of daemon music and rot? Do you see Tyranids in every shadow and Iron Warriors in every doorway?

Time hadn't healed any of his wounds. He could still feel them, deep in his mind, pulsing with pain and oozing infection. That's how he felt. Like an infected wound. He had simply gotten worse and worse over time. That's why he was in this state now. Both his honor and his mind in pieces.

He wondered why they had asked him here in the first place. His hand shook, and he put the wine cup down. It all tasted like blood anyway. He wasn't like them. They were all heroes. They were everything an Ultramarine was supposed to be.

Maybe that's why he was here. So he could see everything that he wasn't.

He fell silent for the most part after that, listening to the other three and occasionally answering yes or no to some question or another. As quickly as that moment of warmth had come it was gone, and he felt hollow again.

Eventually he stood up to take his leave.

"Wait." He turned to see Titus holding out a few long sprigs of mountain laurels. Clusters of beautiful, star shaped white, pink and red flowers.

"Take these to your lady. I notice you've been bringing her flowers all the time." He said with a smile. Cato took them with a nod of gratitude.

"She likes them. Thank you."

"Good luck with her." Titus called after him, before his expression turned stony.

He was going to have to talk to someone about this. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Peahen." Cato called softly, opening the door to his quarters.

You were awake, sewing up a few ragged edges on his broad red cape. Looking up, your face broke into a wide grin when you saw him, and the gorgeous flowers he had for you. Putting your sewing down, you sprung into him like a rabbit into a trap. He gathered you up in his arms and held you tightly. Tucking the laurels into your hair.

"They're beautiful Cato. Thank you so much." You beamed at him. Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiled. Feeling all his earlier distress draining away as he held you close. You could see his expression soften, the tension drop from his shoulders.

"One of my brothers suggested them." He said.

"He has good taste." You ran your fingers gently over the petals. "You know you don't have to bring me flowers every day." He sat down, pulling you into his lap. "Maybe not. But seeing your eyes light up every time I present you with some makes it worth doing. I like making you happy."

You snuggled against him, as content as a cat with a stolen fish. "I appreciate it. You know I've saved every single one. I'm filling a book with them."

"Really?"

"Yep." You nodded. "I dry and press them. It's like a record of sorts. Since we...became and item."

He took your small hand in his and squeezed it.

"I want to make you happy too." You told him.

"You make me happy just by being here."

He kissed your cheek.

"You are my solace."

You pulled one of the springs of laurel from your hair and tucked it behind his ear. "You look so handsome Cato."

"I love you." He whispered. Holding you close. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Titus." Roboute greeted his son as he walked into his office.

"Lord Primarch." He returned. "Am I interrupting anything?"

He sighed. "Nothing out of the ordinary, lieutenant. Is something wrong? You look troubled."

"Forgive me if this is nothing, but I felt that I needed to speak to someone about this." Titus began. "I...believe there is something going on with Cato."

To his surprise Roboute's expression darkened almost immediately. "Tell me." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hole-dwelling, hole-dwelling, hole-dwelling, you’re just like me

[mournivaldisco]

The things you find while tidying: a first edition Nightbringer, complete with artwork that is certainly, uh, this -

[evilrhubarbandkohlarabi]

Day 11 of Kinktober

Pairing: Honsou/ Uriel/ Pasanius/Vaanes

Kink: Moresome

This is actually more of the intro than actual smut.

Honsou laughed and he looked at the three loyalists chained to the floor, each stripped naked and freed from any trapping of their loyalist persuasions. Of course they were all gagged as well, he didn’t need to hear any of their inspid, hollow words and bitter curses.

He had chained their arms to a solid stake and chained their legs to separate paints maybe if they strained they would be able to brush each others finger tips. Both Uriel and the big one, Pasanius were stretching to give each other comfort. Vaanes had his hands tightly balled into fists.

“who should I start with?”