Bookwyrm Writes in Darknes

Bookwyrm's Dark content blog. NSFW content. Minors and Ageless blogs do not interact. I am a fully grown adult human.

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Welcome to my Dark Writing Blog!

Minors will be blocked. This blog contains content not suitable by law for folks under 18. Reader Beware.

This started as the home of my dark short fiction and where I'll try to work on rebloging my darker reblogs to.

Warhammer 40K has taken over.

Masterlists:

Writing Masterlist

Collaborative Writing

Roleplay

OC Reference Images

[sleepyfan-blog]

Day 13 - kiss and tell

Author’s note: Day 13 of Writing The Layers! Master list here. I hope you enjoy the fic!

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @legionsofthehungry

@felinisnoctis @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Warnings: none? please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!

Summary: Binthe returns from a date and talks about it with Olistes

“Oh Olistes! There you are. I have returned from what what is colloquially called a date!" Binthe calls out, floating over to his dear friend and draping himself across Olistes' shoulders, peering curiously as the Iron Warrior pauses in his sketches.

It's a blueprint of some kind, although Binthe can't quite tell what it's supposed to be quite yet. 

"Congratulations on enjoying the dried fruit?" Olistes tilts his head a little in confusion. "I thought you were going to spend some time with that mortal who caught your eye the other day at the library?"

"I did! A date is not just a kind of fruit, but an outing, typically with romantic connotations that all involved in the date directly are made aware of beforehand." The exuberant thousand son explains, happy to clear up the linguistic confusion. Both of them knew at least a half dozen languages and twice that many Gothic pidgins, so he understood Olistes' confusion. 

"Bah, why must words have more than one meaning? This sort of subterfuge reeks of the 20th. Or the 8th. Or even the 19th." Olistes grumbled, sulking just a little at the fact that words were hard. It was one of the more annoying aspects of learning a new language - what was a double entendre, what was an accidental insult, and what could be construed as an innuendo. Geographic region and/or local culture had a large part to play in that as well. Which made learning a language widely spoken all the more irritating. "... But enough about my difficulties with this particular mortal tongue, how was your romantic outing?"

"Oh it was wonderful! Thank you for the suggestion of going to one of the small mammal cafes, and then over to a local bookstore. It was a big hit with the mortal, and you were right that they were a little nervous at first, but as we continued to do things, they warmed up! And I knew that they would love the game store as well. We played a tag-team game against an Ultramarine and his bonded mortal. He thought that he could trick us, but Sam knows the flow of the game a lot better. We managed to win, despite the best efforts of our opponents." Binthe gushed, his eyes alight.

Olistes resisted the temptation to rub his face with his hands "And how were you as a winner?"

"Gracious and thanked our opponents for a match well fought, of course. Despite wanting to rub it in that fussy blue bastard's face that all his scheming and maneuvering was for nothing. I made sure to show my best face." Binthe answers, still floating giddily as he hugged his favorite cousin tightly.  "Although I'm surprised you gave me that information, you're a sore winner, and a worse loser when we play games together."

"Yes. Well. That is something that I have been trying to work on. The Alliance Mandated Chaplain visits have been... Helping. Anything else happen on this social outing of yours? I can detect a change in your scent, cousin." Olistes prompted, the scowl on his face softening to something fond. 

"Well, when I walked Sam back to their car, before they got in to go home, they gave me a kiss on the lips! Their lips were so soft and it was wonderful to hold them for a couple of moments..." Binthe hummed, pressing two fingers to his lips, as a dreamy expression appeared on his face. "They also texted me when they got home that they did get home safely, and that they are hoping to go on another date with me two weeks from now. Something called a picnic and to bring wine?"

"Make sure that the wine is safe for mortals, and I'm glad that your date went well." The Iron Warrior rumbled, smiling ever so slightly. "A picnic sometimes involves a walk in nature and involves bringing and sharing food in a park or managed wild lands."

"Huh... That does sound like fun! Should I bring anything else?" Binthe asks, mostly to himself. "Hmm... I'll have to think about it. Thanks, 'liste!" With that, the thousand son floated off, feet still an inch or two above the ground, singing Tizcan celebration songs as he went. 

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Love that Binthe's literally walking on air after his date!

[sistahscifi]

Dr. Gladys West. 1930 to 2026.

Born on a Virginia farm during the Jim Crow era, Dr West became one of only four Black employees at the Naval Surface Warfare Center in 1956 and the second Black woman ever hired there.

The mathematician's calculations quietly became the backbone of GPS technology used by billions of people every single day. The world has navigated by her work for decades before it learned her name. That's the kind of legacy that doesn't need a spotlight to be real. It just is.

We honor Dr. West and the long line of Black women who built the future while the world looked the other way🤎

Rest in power, Dr. West. We see you now.

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

Oh my God, are you saying there were kickass Black women doing RAD SPACE CALCULATIONS outside of NASA’s human computers?! Holy shit! Holy shit!!!!

motherfucking racism and sexism hiding an absolute queen from us, that’s some goddamn bullshit 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

I gotta show this to everyone I know. Rest in power, Dr. West, and thank you so much for GPS. I don’t know what I’d do without it, I have the navigational sense of a rock.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Trace of Fright

Author's Note: More of Torglite and his Bonded in Husbandry AU!

Warning: Past family trauma Implied death/loss of family members Implied Astartes-related violence Fear of violence / hypervigilance Trauma responses / survival behaviors Anxiety around an abusive or potentially dangerous figure References to weapons Implied bereavement Emotional distress Discussion of a character being "taken" / disappearing under ambiguous circumstances. LMK if you need to me to add anything else.

tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @jaghatai-khock @legionsofthehungry

tagged: @kit-williams @aprofessionaln00b @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis @egrets-not-regrets @finchly-tintinnabulation @nereidof40k @bookandyarndragon

Summary: The Mechanic slowly reveals the survival habits born from a past marked by Astartes violence while trying to determine whether Torglite is truly someone they can trust.

There were some things you learned when you grew up around Astartes. You learned not to stand directly behind them. You learned that a Space Marine could turn faster than something that large had any right to.

You learned not to touch their weapons. You learned not to make sudden movements when they were angry. You learned that "I'm fine" could mean anything from I'm actually fine to I am currently deciding whether anyone in this room needs to die.

You learned to tell the difference. Most people didn't. That was probably why most people liked them. The thought makes you snort as you tighten the bolt beneath the workbench.

Torglite is sitting across the shop, one massive armored leg folded awkwardly beneath him because apparently there is no chair in existence built for a man his size. Several of his mechadendrites are occupied with a half-disassembled generator.

He has been quiet for almost twenty minutes. You appreciate that. Not because you dislike him. You're still figuring that part out. But because silence is easier.

Silence doesn't make demands. Silence doesn't ask questions. Silence doesn't make you wonder whether you've said the wrong thing. You glance toward him.

One of his mechadendrites rotates. You immediately know what it is reaching for. "Third drawer."

The tendril pauses. "You know where everything is?"

"Obviously."

"It is remarkable that you have memorized the contents of your workspace to such a degree."

You shrug. "It's my shop."

He makes a quiet clicking noise. Probably amusement. You return to your work. The generator gives a little shudder. You feel the familiar pulse beneath your ribs.

Not quite a heartbeat. Not quite anything physical.

The Bond.

You still don't know what to do with that. You'd spent your whole life hearing about Bonds. Everyone had. People joked about them. People romanticized them.

People complained about them. There were advertisements for Bonded households. There were entire sections of the city built with Astartes in mind.

You'd grown up knowing that some people had one. You'd also grown up knowing that sometimes a Bonded person stopped coming home.

Your mother had always hated that particular phrase.

Stopped coming home.

She never said killed.

Not when you were little.

Not when you asked where Aunt Mara had gone. Not when you asked why Uncle's room had been emptied. Not when you noticed that nobody ever mentioned the enormous black-armored man who used to sit at the kitchen table.

You learned not to ask. Not because anyone told you not to. You just learned.

Your wrench slips. "Fuck."

Torglite's head snaps toward you. You freeze. It lasts less than a second.

You hate that it happens at all.

His optics settle on you. "You are injured."

"No."

"You said—"

"I'm fine."

He is silent. You can feel him looking at your hand. "It's a minor slip."

"I see."

You return to the bolt. The moment passes. Good. You don't need him knowing how quickly your body reacts to an Astartes looking at you. Especially not him. Because Torglite has never hurt you.

That matters. You remind yourself of that often. He has never hurt you. He has never threatened you. He has never raised his voice at you. He asks before touching you.

He waits when you tell him to wait. He doesn't enter your bedroom without knocking. He doesn't interfere with your work. He doesn't demand that you tell him where you're going.

He doesn't— You stop. Your hand has gone still.

Torglite notices. Of course he notices. "You are thinking."

You stare at the generator. "That's usually how it works."

"Your pulse increased."

You look at him. "I don't like being monitored."

The words come sharper than intended. His mechadendrites immediately withdraw. Not dramatically. Just enough. "I apologize."

You blink.

He actually sounds sincere.

"...It's fine."

"I will disable the secondary monitoring function."

"No."

He pauses.

You swallow. "No. Keep it."

His head tilts. "You are certain?"

"Yeah." You look away. Because that's the problem.

You don't actually want him to stop caring. You just don't know how to let someone care without wondering what they might eventually do with that knowledge.

The generator hums. Rain ticks against the roof. Torglite quietly resumes his work. You do the same. Neither of you mentions it again.

That is another thing you learned growing up around Astartes. Sometimes surviving means knowing when a conversation is over.

You learned that one very young.

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Oooh poor Mechanic. That is rough. It's a realy big deal to even consider leting Torglite in.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

It is! They are... trying to beki d ti Torglite. Sometimes he scares them badly

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

I love the parallel play they have going on. And Torglite is so patient and willing to simply exist with them until they feel ready to share.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Yup! Its one method he's learned that has slowly helped them relaxaround him. Torglite is. Very old. And Nurglite so he is VERY patient

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Also love the detail of black armor. Could be a RG, could be a Fallen or an early Dangle. Could be a Templar could be Death Watch or Black Legion. So many choices that would would give the impression of too large in black armor to a little kid.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Trace of Fright

Author's Note: More of Torglite and his Bonded in Husbandry AU!

Warning: Past family trauma Implied death/loss of family members Implied Astartes-related violence Fear of violence / hypervigilance Trauma responses / survival behaviors Anxiety around an abusive or potentially dangerous figure References to weapons Implied bereavement Emotional distress Discussion of a character being "taken" / disappearing under ambiguous circumstances. LMK if you need to me to add anything else.

tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @jaghatai-khock @legionsofthehungry

tagged: @kit-williams @aprofessionaln00b @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis @egrets-not-regrets @finchly-tintinnabulation @nereidof40k @bookandyarndragon

Summary: The Mechanic slowly reveals the survival habits born from a past marked by Astartes violence while trying to determine whether Torglite is truly someone they can trust.

There were some things you learned when you grew up around Astartes. You learned not to stand directly behind them. You learned that a Space Marine could turn faster than something that large had any right to.

You learned not to touch their weapons. You learned not to make sudden movements when they were angry. You learned that "I'm fine" could mean anything from I'm actually fine to I am currently deciding whether anyone in this room needs to die.

You learned to tell the difference. Most people didn't. That was probably why most people liked them. The thought makes you snort as you tighten the bolt beneath the workbench.

Torglite is sitting across the shop, one massive armored leg folded awkwardly beneath him because apparently there is no chair in existence built for a man his size. Several of his mechadendrites are occupied with a half-disassembled generator.

He has been quiet for almost twenty minutes. You appreciate that. Not because you dislike him. You're still figuring that part out. But because silence is easier.

Silence doesn't make demands. Silence doesn't ask questions. Silence doesn't make you wonder whether you've said the wrong thing. You glance toward him.

One of his mechadendrites rotates. You immediately know what it is reaching for. "Third drawer."

The tendril pauses. "You know where everything is?"

"Obviously."

"It is remarkable that you have memorized the contents of your workspace to such a degree."

You shrug. "It's my shop."

He makes a quiet clicking noise. Probably amusement. You return to your work. The generator gives a little shudder. You feel the familiar pulse beneath your ribs.

Not quite a heartbeat. Not quite anything physical.

The Bond.

You still don't know what to do with that. You'd spent your whole life hearing about Bonds. Everyone had. People joked about them. People romanticized them.

People complained about them. There were advertisements for Bonded households. There were entire sections of the city built with Astartes in mind.

You'd grown up knowing that some people had one. You'd also grown up knowing that sometimes a Bonded person stopped coming home.

Your mother had always hated that particular phrase.

Stopped coming home.

She never said killed.

Not when you were little.

Not when you asked where Aunt Mara had gone. Not when you asked why Uncle's room had been emptied. Not when you noticed that nobody ever mentioned the enormous black-armored man who used to sit at the kitchen table.

You learned not to ask. Not because anyone told you not to. You just learned.

Your wrench slips. "Fuck."

Torglite's head snaps toward you. You freeze. It lasts less than a second.

You hate that it happens at all.

His optics settle on you. "You are injured."

"No."

"You said—"

"I'm fine."

He is silent. You can feel him looking at your hand. "It's a minor slip."

"I see."

You return to the bolt. The moment passes. Good. You don't need him knowing how quickly your body reacts to an Astartes looking at you. Especially not him. Because Torglite has never hurt you.

That matters. You remind yourself of that often. He has never hurt you. He has never threatened you. He has never raised his voice at you. He asks before touching you.

He waits when you tell him to wait. He doesn't enter your bedroom without knocking. He doesn't interfere with your work. He doesn't demand that you tell him where you're going.

He doesn't— You stop. Your hand has gone still.

Torglite notices. Of course he notices. "You are thinking."

You stare at the generator. "That's usually how it works."

"Your pulse increased."

You look at him. "I don't like being monitored."

The words come sharper than intended. His mechadendrites immediately withdraw. Not dramatically. Just enough. "I apologize."

You blink.

He actually sounds sincere.

"...It's fine."

"I will disable the secondary monitoring function."

"No."

He pauses.

You swallow. "No. Keep it."

His head tilts. "You are certain?"

"Yeah." You look away. Because that's the problem.

You don't actually want him to stop caring. You just don't know how to let someone care without wondering what they might eventually do with that knowledge.

The generator hums. Rain ticks against the roof. Torglite quietly resumes his work. You do the same. Neither of you mentions it again.

That is another thing you learned growing up around Astartes. Sometimes surviving means knowing when a conversation is over.

You learned that one very young.

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Oooh poor Mechanic. That is rough. It's a realy big deal to even consider leting Torglite in.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

It is! They are... trying to beki d ti Torglite. Sometimes he scares them badly

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

I love the parallel play they have going on. And Torglite is so patient and willing to simply exist with them until they feel ready to share.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Trace of Fright

Author's Note: More of Torglite and his Bonded in Husbandry AU!

Warning: Past family trauma Implied death/loss of family members Implied Astartes-related violence Fear of violence / hypervigilance Trauma responses / survival behaviors Anxiety around an abusive or potentially dangerous figure References to weapons Implied bereavement Emotional distress Discussion of a character being "taken" / disappearing under ambiguous circumstances. LMK if you need to me to add anything else.

tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @jaghatai-khock @legionsofthehungry

tagged: @kit-williams @aprofessionaln00b @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis @egrets-not-regrets @finchly-tintinnabulation @nereidof40k @bookandyarndragon

Summary: The Mechanic slowly reveals the survival habits born from a past marked by Astartes violence while trying to determine whether Torglite is truly someone they can trust.

There were some things you learned when you grew up around Astartes. You learned not to stand directly behind them. You learned that a Space Marine could turn faster than something that large had any right to.

You learned not to touch their weapons. You learned not to make sudden movements when they were angry. You learned that "I'm fine" could mean anything from I'm actually fine to I am currently deciding whether anyone in this room needs to die.

You learned to tell the difference. Most people didn't. That was probably why most people liked them. The thought makes you snort as you tighten the bolt beneath the workbench.

Torglite is sitting across the shop, one massive armored leg folded awkwardly beneath him because apparently there is no chair in existence built for a man his size. Several of his mechadendrites are occupied with a half-disassembled generator.

He has been quiet for almost twenty minutes. You appreciate that. Not because you dislike him. You're still figuring that part out. But because silence is easier.

Silence doesn't make demands. Silence doesn't ask questions. Silence doesn't make you wonder whether you've said the wrong thing. You glance toward him.

One of his mechadendrites rotates. You immediately know what it is reaching for. "Third drawer."

The tendril pauses. "You know where everything is?"

"Obviously."

"It is remarkable that you have memorized the contents of your workspace to such a degree."

You shrug. "It's my shop."

He makes a quiet clicking noise. Probably amusement. You return to your work. The generator gives a little shudder. You feel the familiar pulse beneath your ribs.

Not quite a heartbeat. Not quite anything physical.

The Bond.

You still don't know what to do with that. You'd spent your whole life hearing about Bonds. Everyone had. People joked about them. People romanticized them.

People complained about them. There were advertisements for Bonded households. There were entire sections of the city built with Astartes in mind.

You'd grown up knowing that some people had one. You'd also grown up knowing that sometimes a Bonded person stopped coming home.

Your mother had always hated that particular phrase.

Stopped coming home.

She never said killed.

Not when you were little.

Not when you asked where Aunt Mara had gone. Not when you asked why Uncle's room had been emptied. Not when you noticed that nobody ever mentioned the enormous black-armored man who used to sit at the kitchen table.

You learned not to ask. Not because anyone told you not to. You just learned.

Your wrench slips. "Fuck."

Torglite's head snaps toward you. You freeze. It lasts less than a second.

You hate that it happens at all.

His optics settle on you. "You are injured."

"No."

"You said—"

"I'm fine."

He is silent. You can feel him looking at your hand. "It's a minor slip."

"I see."

You return to the bolt. The moment passes. Good. You don't need him knowing how quickly your body reacts to an Astartes looking at you. Especially not him. Because Torglite has never hurt you.

That matters. You remind yourself of that often. He has never hurt you. He has never threatened you. He has never raised his voice at you. He asks before touching you.

He waits when you tell him to wait. He doesn't enter your bedroom without knocking. He doesn't interfere with your work. He doesn't demand that you tell him where you're going.

He doesn't— You stop. Your hand has gone still.

Torglite notices. Of course he notices. "You are thinking."

You stare at the generator. "That's usually how it works."

"Your pulse increased."

You look at him. "I don't like being monitored."

The words come sharper than intended. His mechadendrites immediately withdraw. Not dramatically. Just enough. "I apologize."

You blink.

He actually sounds sincere.

"...It's fine."

"I will disable the secondary monitoring function."

"No."

He pauses.

You swallow. "No. Keep it."

His head tilts. "You are certain?"

"Yeah." You look away. Because that's the problem.

You don't actually want him to stop caring. You just don't know how to let someone care without wondering what they might eventually do with that knowledge.

The generator hums. Rain ticks against the roof. Torglite quietly resumes his work. You do the same. Neither of you mentions it again.

That is another thing you learned growing up around Astartes. Sometimes surviving means knowing when a conversation is over.

You learned that one very young.

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Oooh poor Mechanic. That is rough. It's a realy big deal to even consider leting Torglite in.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Day 4 - second best

Author’s note: Day 4 of Writing The Layers! Master list here. I hope you enjoy the fic!

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @legionsofthehungry

@felinisnoctis @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Warnings: implied toxic relationship, implied emotionally abusive relationship, harsh language, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it

Summary: R/AITA: Hey everyone... Bonded human here with a question. AITA for calling my bonded my second best option?

Like... I know that the title is bad, but please hear me out before y'all flame me into oblivion! Obligatory apologies for any typos as I am writing this on my phone, and that this is a throwaway account as I don't want my main to be possibly witch-hunted for this.

So! Some background before I get to the part where I might be the asshole, although I'm pretty sure that I'm not... 

ANyways, so I've been bonded to a Ravenguard for about three months? And he's usually pretty quiet but he's.

So.

needy! 

He has to know where I am at all times, and if I am late from work because of traffic, or because I"m working late or because I wanted to go have drinks with my friends and didn't mention it to him beforehand, he'll call or text me and it's like.

dude! Give me my damn space! I was told that RG were independent marines, which is why I didn't immediately chase him of when he said that we were bonded. He's not the first marine I've been bonded to, but that's not important for this story.

So.

Anyways. 

Sorry for the rambling, I'm going to talk about the argument. 

The set up: I've been late home by between an hour to three hours every night for a week, hanging out with my friends and doing work stuff. I turn my phone off while I'm at work so that I don't have to deal with his dumb poems or needy voice mails as it's suuuper embarrassing if I have to talk to him while on my breaks as my work breakroom is kind of small and there's no real privacy, and stepping out of the building would mean that I have to be wait to be let back in again and I'm not going to do that in order to reassure the world's most needy bird-brained spaceman.

Also some of my coworkers think that Astartes are cringe and dangerous and while I can kind of see where they are coming from, every astartes I've known has been kind of pathetic with how much they simp for me.

Although they should worship me. I'm the best! I give them food and shelter and let them cuddle me when I want them too.

Argh! I got distracted again. Right. 

So, as I said before, I'd been late to get home every day for a week and had my phone off - not just the screen black, but fully off - so that I could focus on what I needed to do, and for some much needed time with my friends and me-time. 

I walk into the apartment and nearly run face first into my RG! He was less than an inch from the front door! And before I could really process much, he scooped me up and hugged me close and said that he loved me and was worried about where I had been, and that he'd been about to go looking for me.

Like I'm a lost pet that needs to be retrieved!

And that totally killed the great mood I'd been in. I was also kiiiind of drunk from having several glasses of wine with the girls. But not so drunk as to have not driven myself home from the wine bar, of course. I know when I've had too much to drink, and I hadn't had nearly enough to be unsafe-drunk.

And I was suddenly pissed! I yelled at him, saying that he was such a needy and clingy buzz-kill. That I hated that he was all over me when I didn't want him to be and that I wanted him to fuck off back to wherever it was that he came from. 

And this mopey pale motherfucker had the audacity to burst into tears when I rightfully tore into him for being a clingy shithead! He accused me of all sorts of things, that I was cruel and uncaring of his feelings. That he felt as though I viewed him as a second best option of hanging out with him, and that I favored my friends over him. 

I told him that he was right. While he's fun to be around sometimes - when he's not being a mopey edgar allen poe wannabe - he's new. And it's not as if bonds with astartes last a lifetime. I've been bonded to four different astartes. They never stay for very long, and I told him that he'd just be another astartes who left my life as suddenly as he came into it. But that my girls have been mine since we were in diapers. 

He went really quiet after that. 

and. Uh.

I haven't seen him in like... Two or three days? 

Did I fuck up? Am I the asshole here? I'm sure he's just being a melodramatic raven man somewhere in the woods. Any pointers on what I should have done better? Not that I think that I've fucked up much. Maybe I was a bit harsh, but he needed to be put in his place! You all get it... Right?

[sleepyfan-blog]

MIssion objective?

Xonfried heard that mutter from the blank mortal loud and clear. He has many questions, but there is a filthy heretic in front of him, and -

The scent of fresh blood hits him, and the Apothecary is torn between charging the heretic, and offering his aid to the injured mortal.

The Chaos Heretic’s eyes flash as the blank hisses what is likely some sort of insult and the bastard attempts to charge towards the two of them -

Only to be immediately charged and pinned by the Honorable Ancient Cousin and shot twice more by the snipers on the roof. 

Which is why Xonfried pivots and strides towards the blank, pausing as he feels her aura - and smells her fear. “I am an apothecary, and your companion is bleeding heavily. Will you please allow me to come close and aid in tending her injuries? I can also send over the aid kit, if you would rather tend to her yourself.” 

This particular blank is not the first he’s met, and he is able to suppress his instinctual dislike for someone who can rebuke the very warp and the dark powers with her presence. THis situation is very tense and dangerous, and he applauds her wariness. Xonfried is also fairly sure from the way the unconscious baseline woman is bleeding, that she is a psyker. A witch, but one clearly trying to evade being consumed by Chaos. 

****

Vorca’s eyes go wide and he nods “I… I understand sir. If there is any way I can help, without being underfoot or sedated by an apothecary, I am eager to do so.” It would hopefully help him get his mind off of the way his hearts and body aches. 

****

Cedric huffs a little, blinking away the momentary wave of exhaustion. Today has been long and it promises to be much longer still. He’s not thrilled by the way he is, for no discernable reasons, suddenly the center of attention when there are Much More Important things to deal with, but he does accept the offered food. He’s… Pretty sure he’s eaten at least once today,  although it has been an extremely busy week, as the high temperatures and the large surge in travelers eager to explore the beaches around Gannet Point - and the forests - means that there are far more mortals getting themselves into medical trouble than normal.

“Very well, it has been some time since I ate last, my thanks, lady Rose.” The young Black Templar answers, grateful for the food as he eats quickly. He still has one hand on Mx Lullaby, to make sure that they don’t suddenly vanish. His vox chirps, and Hasier has sent him a message.

“Level four chaos bastard spotted. He’s brawling with Honorable Brother Sintus. My brothers and I are moving to set up a containment zone and aid in pacification and capture. We will likely need medical aid for the mortals as this chaos lord doesn’t care to try and reduce the casualties and collateral damage he is causing.”

“There is a welcoming team on their way over, Honorable brother Sintus was the first to get there because someone fitted him with an appropriately sized jetpack.” Cedric answers, his eyes widening in alarm. “Please do remind your older brothers that murdering filthy heretics without alliance confirmation will get them censured.”

***

Roland’s eyes widened as he guided her over to a nearby empty chair. “Please, sit down. I will go aid my brother.” He’s also going to message Arnault as well, to inform him that a brother is in need of aid. “Stay here, where it is safer, ja?”

@c-u-c-koo-4-40k @kit-williams @nereidof40k @felinisnoctis @egrets-not-regrets @legionsofthehungry

@bookandyarndragonwritesdark @cunninglinguist-69 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

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

@bookandyarndragonwritesdark @felinisnoctis @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @legionsofthehungry

@passionofthesith @cunninglinguist-69 @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @nereidof40k

@sleepyfan-blog

Meanwhile back at Stone Flame.

"Mmm..." Lullaby chews, dissatisfied, grumbling.

"I can trade you mine?" Khopesh offers.

"Hm?"

The Nightlord smiles. "You were making such a sour face I assumed the flavor was not to your liking?" He clarifies.

Lullaby huffs, "No food's fine. I'm Frustrated."

"I know."

"I'm Antsy."

"Indeed."

"Our Sea Angels are out there! Facing down a Level 4! We should be out there with them!"

"I want that as well."

"So can we go now?"

"Not yet."

"Oh Come On!! I wanna go out there and Help. I'm fueled up! The bond sapping helped restore my magic tanks I Promise." Lullaby insists.

"But your regular stamina still needs replenishment. As does mine." Khopesh insists then turns his face pouty and purse lipped. "I mean...unless you want to leave me to play daring hero all alone. With only this meat pie for company." He sighs forlornly, holding the remains to his cheek.

"Pfft! No, no, no. I think we've all had enough of me doing that for Multiple life times." You say, taking more bites."

After that laugh, Lullaby does feel better. And the food makes their body feel better.

A thought comes to their mind. "Hey Khopesh...they said this guy is Level 4 and Chaos affiliated right?"

"Mm? Yes."

"How Chaos we talking?"

"Not as many outward mutations but he's got tech integrated into his body and draws a decent amount of his power from his allegiance to the dark gods."

"Psychery?"

"Not naturally no. If he has anything it's connected to his patrons..." Khopesh scans through the info that the research team had scuttled together quickly. He glances to Lullaby.

Their brows are knit, their back is slightly hunched.

Beep Beep! Another vox update comes in.

Khopesh hisses grimly and he shows the live feed.

Brother Scintus has Huron pinned, only for the bastard to grip the massive Dreadnought foot with his two hands and slowly but surely manage to Push.

"You Will Not Deny Me What IS MINE!" He snarls, bionic eye glowing with malice as he manages to unseat brother Scintus and topple his footing.

The venerable dreadnought tries to correct but cannot use his jump pack in time. He falls to the group and Huron siezes on the opportunity to jump to his face plate, and try to claw his way through to Scintus's actual body. Sparks fly with every swipe and Lullaby can see and hear denting metal.

"Get Back you Vile Heretic!" Another voice snarls, and a Black Templar with a chainsword jumps into the fray to keep Huron from cracking Scintus like an oyster. Chain swords clash and Huron seems to glow with a red raging aura. Even with the darts that had hit it seemed the knock out drugs barely did anything.

Khornnate Aura - Enhanced strength, durability, adrenaline increase and resistance to poisons and hitting like a Truck. Why isn't rocket-?

It hits. "Rocket can't use her power too much next to that untrained psycher or the other Astartes. She can't mulch Huron right now. And he'll keep using his Chaos enhanced strength to batter them back, unless..."

Khopesh tilts his head. "Unless?"

Lullaby straightens and stands, they've finished taking the last bite of food. "Khopesh, time to boogie. I have a Plan."

Khopesh's feral grin cuts across his face. "Now That's what I wanted to hear."

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

"Aren't you forgetting something brats?" Rose turned to see Karslor, looking much better for geting rest and food into him, stride out of a room behind Anrir. "Like I don't know, back up?"

"Kopesh, Lullaby, with us," Anrir commanded. "You can breif us en route. We're rendvou with Ailuno, Zek and Torglite on the way."

Cato nodded stifly. "The Grey Knights providing the cordon have been informed." Rose only paid partial attention to the exchange. Her attention focused on the live feed. Not the combatants but the land around it

"Come on, come on give me a better view," Rose muttered "and shit!" Reflexively she leaned into the hand Cato had rested on her shoulder. "One of the apartmens." She pointed to the approximate location. "Those are Mouse and Honey's cars. I think that's Mouse's appartment!"

Even before the Night Lord had sprinted out the door ot Apothecarium the live feed showed Hura and Darsas boiling out of the door at speeds rarely seen.

***

Private message from TaleSpiner873 to LivingLaVidaCoola(offline)

Sorry had to go AFK. Call in to the one of the basses and explain the situation before you show up. They'll have instructions on how to get you cleared in safely.

If you're near Garnet Point. Lay low. There's a *very bad news* new arival who's throwing hands in the street. You don't need to add geting caught in the middle of that shit to everything else you've got going on.

Stay Safe

***

Text to Kara and Mirak in the Beauchamp Family Group chat.

R :Don't head back from Mom and Dad's yet, unless orders pause the parental leave. level4 new arival throwing hands in streets. Am safe in Stoneflame.

K: already half way back. :( stopped for gas. And to change babies.

M: Almost to Aunt Suniva and Uncles'. Ooooh that's an Idea! We'll stop there. Altani wanted to see her baby cousins again soon.

***

Marissa nodded resting her head on table shaking as sensory memory from her time as the chaos warband's prisoner overwhelmed her. "Chaos astartes," she choaked out, shivering inspite of the midday heat. "Blue and white with the big squared armor. Threatening two women. Ultramarine walking Tank brother with Jet Pack was woosh and crash."

@sleepyfan-blog @felinisnoctis @cunninglinguist-69 @nereidof40k @kit-williams @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @legionsofthehungry @egrets-not-regrets @bleedingichorhearts

[cunninglinguist-69]

Rocket senses the imposing form of the Templar before she sees him. She stands back up from where she had been crouching in an attempt to see whether Mallory's body was reacting properly. Thankfully it did, as it seemed that the renewed nosebleed had come from the accidental double dose of mystery sedatives. The psyker's pulse was steady if a little low, and she breathed of her own accord.

That left the Templar. “Stay where you are or I'll kill us all and call it a day.” Rocket warned in a steady voice, fear bleeding out and turning into fury. Templars were zealous bastards, and she would have much rather deal with rogue Nurglite sorcerers in the sewers than even a single black and white fuck.

“I am going to extract my phone and call an Apothecary that knows the exact formulation and dosage of this sedative. Mission target is experiencing an overdose coupled with psychic overload and a bond issue,” she warned, doing exactly that. Rocket quickly pulled out her phone and dialed Zaarius, switching seamlessly to the Chaos-dialect. “Hey Doc, I'm in a bit of a situation, think fast. Alù gave me a mystery sedative, I presume he procured it from you, the injector double-shot, psyker is down with a nosebleed. Definitely an overdose.” She inhaled, watching the Templar eye her with noticeable disdain. He seemed to understand every... seventh or so word and it irritated him, causing his fingers to twitch. “There's a pissed off Templar Apothecary around. Do I fry him and try to get away so he wouldn't try to come for our heads for heresy? Or is the OD urgent enough for me to give psyker to him for space narcan administration?”

On the other end of the line, Zaarius gasped. Rocket facepalmed inwardly, one hundred percent sure there was something heretical in those sedatives made by a Slaaneshi chemist out of all people. Alù did not have a habit of keeping boring drugs around.

SCREEEE

Suddenly, a screech of metal echoed once again and without further prompting, the Templar drew his sword and disappeared back into the fighting yet again. Rocket could see the Chaos Lord again; he was oddly surrounded by a forcefield, or a mist?.. There were steps pounding everywhere. More Astartes were joining, their running feet like a wardrum. Too many. The Blank looked back at the unconscious Mallory and quickly took off a personal tracker and shoved in the woman's bra. A contingency plan.

That done, Rocket activated both her fuck-you-aura and her temporary invisibility and headed out for the Chaos Lord. Zaarius kept shouting something on the phone she'd stuck in a pocket; Rocket had a more important job now - making sure that no feral Khornite Marines would be summoned to the bloodbath.

Huron glowed crimson and menacing in the distance. The Templar held him back for now, but the Loyalist was no match for a feral Khorne-powered Chaos Lord.

tags: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bookandyarndragonwritesdark @nereidof40k

[nereidof40k]

As Mirak and Kara arrived, Sunniva was talking to a man on the lawn. At first it looked like Sev, he was even carrying a very deadly looking spear.

Then he spoke. Not Sev. Even if they looked terribly alike. “Jago might need this. I have a terrible feeling.”

“Does the Allfather know you borrowed Gungnir?” Sunniva teased. Taking the spear from Sevatar’s father.

Who turned around and smiled at the approaching pair. “Grandson. Lady Kara. It is good to see you both in good health.” The babies were gurgling happily at the new person, trying to mimic his face.

Jago poked his head out of the door. His attention fully on Mirak and his little family.

====

Alastor nodded at Vorca. ‘Your desire to help does you credit. Allow me to explain a few things you will need to know. Information is power.’

Grabbing a pad of paper and a pencil, Alastor walked Vorca through how to figure out who to extract in which order, and how to get them away discreetly, without causing further damage.

‘I did learn a few more things about stealth and secrecy after the Night Lords pulled me out of a ditch on Isstvan V. We will go together. Never go without backup, and do tell someone where you are going’ That sounded like experience.

===

So when Zaarius was preparing to act, a message suddenly popped up on his phone.

*Don’t worry, Vorca and I will retrieve the person in need of medical help.

- A. Rushal.*

@bookandyarndragonwritesdark , @felinisnoctis , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

@egrets-not-regrets , @kit-williams , @legionsofthehungry

@cunninglinguist-69 , @bleedingichorhearts , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

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

SLAM! CRACK-CK!

"Y-you! Heretic! Mm-mmph! Bastard!" Xonfried coughs, blood welling up between his teeth as he bares them at the demon before him.

Huron the bastard, has the gall to smile at him. It's condescending, like a solider watching a child with a fake sword. "Come now Cousin. You did your best." He chuckles red aura still glowing with malice and rage.

Xonfried spits from where he's pinned against the still toppled Scintus. The Dreadnought's fall had done more than he'd initially thought, and the tomb soldier's other leg is trapped beneath his own frame.

Try as he might, and mightily did he try making chainsword hit after chainsword hit. But the damn heretics Khonate aura kept him going despite it all. And Xonfried's own stamina had no such replenishment in place.

It was only a matter of time before his exhaustion got the better of him.

Huron seems to relish this reality as he stands upon brother Scintus and grasps Xonfried by the neck to lift him.

"For what it's worth, I had no true hate for you Brother." Huron spits. "But I am afraid I must now use you to make an Example, of what happens when you Get In My Wa-"

FWIIIIIIWOOOSH!

Fires from behind rocketed to life.

"For the Emperooooooooooooor!"

Brother Scintus may have been down but he certainly wasn't out. And in a flash his jet packs roared to life again, sending the massive tomb of metal and rage forward.

"WHAT IN THE DARKEST NEBULA OF TZEEN-"

WHAM!

"O-Oof!" The noise escapes Xonfried on reflex as he's dropped like a sack in the mayhem. He gets one glancing look at Brother Scintus's Chasis flying over his head into the nearest building's wall before he realizes what he's looking at.

The back of the Dreadnought's body is visible and the rest is embedded Deep in the building. Bricks fall and smoke billows, alarms are going off from both cars and fire systems but...

He doesn't hear Huron.

Creeeeeeaaaaaak

Dammit.

The metal battering ram creaks as it's roughly pushed back Out, and leaves a gaping hole in the brick work.

Where there still somehow stands a very angry, very red and very dusty Huron.

"Now...you've done it!" He snarls, lurching forward as Xonfried lies prone though trying to gather himself. "I was Going to make it quick but now...Now I'm going to-"

Shiiiiink!

"You're going to Die Heretic." Another voice declares from nearby.

Suddenly two more Black Templars drop into place, chainswords at the ready.

Xonfried immediately cheers. "Roland! Arnault! GET HIM BROTHERS! FOR THE EMPEROR!"

""FOR THE EMPEROR!"" They reply in unison.

Huron looks far more exasperated. "Oh will you idiots SHUT UP!?"

Meanwhile nearby and fast approaching.

Lullaby speaks to both their current party and those above through a vox as they ride on Khopesh's shoulders. Their staff is attached to their back.

"Karlsor, Anrir, you're on retrieval and first aid. Cato you job is to protect Scintus. Rose you're with first aid, keep any baselines they grab calm."

Cato almost considers protesting. but Lullaby cuts him off. "He needs you Cato. Keep yourself between him and Huron so he can't try to rip him out again. If he gets close, beat him to a pulp."

After that Cato actually shuts his mouth and nods.

"Khopesh my abilities work best with you. I'm counting on you to get close. Don't focus on damage, just do your best to keep him distracted so we can set the trap and extract the others. Keme and Hebe, use your aims to keep Huron near but not on top of Khopesh and keep him from pestering the retrievers."

"Copy that." "Understood."

Khopesh glances up as the battle site nears. He feels his blood racing, his sharpened teeth and crushing jaw seem to ache with the desire to bite.

Rip! Tear! Flesh! Blood! Bones! Viscera!

Lullaby pets his cheek sense his desires. "You'll get your chance Sweetness."

He nods wordless, eager.

And so So Ready for this!

(Almost to the Really fun part! Mwahahahaha)

@bookandyarndragonwritesdark @felinisnoctis @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @legionsofthehungry

@cunninglinguist-69 @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @nereidof40k

@sleepyfan-blog

[nereidof40k]

Alastor moves swiftly and with purpose. It doesn’t take them long to get ready to go. It seems they are not the only ones on retrieval, which does please Alastor.

The two Ravens arrive to chaos. There’s a fight going on, the other guy has a chaos-y aura that makes Alastor wrinkle his nose in disgust. Keeping his hand on Vorca’s shoulder, he scans the area. ‘Vorca, which injured do you see?’ He doesn’t know the baseline woman who is lying unconscious, but his instincts tell him he should make her a priority.

(Mwahahaha!

@bookandyarndragonwritesdark , @felinisnoctis , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

@egrets-not-regrets , @kit-williams , @legionsofthehungry

@cunninglinguist-69 , @bleedingichorhearts , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

[cunninglinguist-69]

ooc: rocket goes side-questing so y'all can fight

Things were happening much too quickly for Rocket's liking and footsteps thundering from every angle made her sigh and dump her jacket next to a particularly remarkable tree, emptying the pockets into her cargo jorts beforehand. She reloaded the tranq gun, eyebrows crawling up as Black Templars seemed to multiply by mitosis. One went down like a sack of potatoes and suddenly two more appeared. The clumsy dreadnought briefly made for a wall ornament — and the entire building shook. People were looking from their windows, some idiot even went out on their balcony.

Rocket followed the Khornate psychic field, circling at the very edge of, covering the sides of reddish hue with her own field. Senses acute, she knew there were two smaller fields approaching from the other side of the forest. She was familiar enough with her own Khornate World Eater friends to be aware of what that meant and advanced fearlessly, knowing she could take one of them at a time. It was not her first rodeo in that regard.

Anything to stop indiscriminate bloodshed. Approaching Khornates will not ask questions, they'll just begin meleeing without cause or reason and by the sounds of it, even three Templars were not enough to subdue the Chaos Lord completely. They were all just buying time.

Running, panting, growling— Rocket's Null aura slammed into a feral World Eater much like a large vacuum brick. Attracted to the fight and all the more mindless for it, the unkempt, heavily mutated Marine briefly staggered and suddenly went down, flying ass over tits as the agonizing discomfort of feeling his armor melt from bone left him shaking, howling and twitching but otherwise unable to move. Rocket rushed with determination, keeping the dial up on her powers enough to incapacitate but not kill.

There was a second of an adulterated awkwardness when their eyes met. She, with the tranq gun jabbing once, twice into him, mystery substance relaxing his tense body as he attempted to fight it and was unsuccessful. And the feral World Eater, whose Nails had gone quiet long enough to see a vaguely human woman shaped black hole shaking her head at him in disappointment.

Rocket looked back. Huron was following her aura. Whatever had been in the sedative had at least dulled Mallory's psychic signature somewhat, or maybe Khornate influence had made him stupid with battle. Nonetheless, Rocket bolted, leaving the downed feral World Eater, using Huron's misplaced attention to draw him away from the target.

tags: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @bookandyarndragonwritesdark @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @nereidof40k

This had turned into an enormous mess.

[nereidof40k]

And messier it would get. As the Black Templar were getting smacked around, another one showed up. The tallest Black Templar they had ever seen. His armor was extremely ornate, including laurels on his helmet. While Huron was all red fury, this giant seemed to be cold, focused fury, like an Inwit winter storm.

High Marshal Sigismund had arrived, somehow radiating disapproval despite his face being covered. He charged at Huron, black blade ready to skewer the Khornate.

@bookandyarndragonwritesdark , @felinisnoctis , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

@egrets-not-regrets , @kit-williams , @legionsofthehungry

@cunninglinguist-69 , @bleedingichorhearts , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

@sleepyfan-blog @felinisnoctis @cunninglinguist-69 @nereidof40k @kit-williams @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @legionsofthehungry @egrets-not-regrets @bleedingichorhearts

Rose listend into her earpiece intently taking Lulaby's plan as well as updates from other teams. She even raised a hand to Pat as he assisted the Grey Knights and growing group of astartes scouts evacuating civilians from the growing exclusion zone. Karslor didn't set her down as they slowed for Lullby to explain the Plan to Lord Aliuno and the rest of the rest of the Welcoming Comitee/ Containment Team

"The Warp Antibiotic has pivioted into zapping Approaching Khornintes drawn to the battle in the west quadrant." The voice of a particlularly sour temperd Grey Knight crackled over the vox.

"Captian Rushal and Brother Vorca of the Raven Guard have deployed themselves to extract the injured from the mess," Zarrius growled, "Directly from the medical bay. They left a note..." Even over the staticey vox the disdain driped like the venom from his claws.

In spite of Cato's growling Torglite fell in next to Kopesh and Karslor. "Good,"the corrupted tec priest burbled at Rose and Lulls, "you two already have vox beads. Do I assume correctly you two have been briefed in the handling of the machine spirits?"

"You got it big guy!" Lulls shot the Death Guard a tight grin.

"Affirmative," Rose adjusting her rappidly doned SAR gear answered trying to breath shallowly throuogh her mouth. "I have my EMT Kit, Scanner, and a few other things besides"

"Good!" Rose found a pair of vox beads pressed into her hand. How the hell did Ailuno end up "If you encoounter Rocket, or the medical escapees get the idiots on to the vox."

The next moment the Team split into two, Rose, Karslor and Anrir pealing off from the Welcome/Combat team, into the wood. She felt Karslor Wince as the voice of Grandmaster Sigismund rang out.

***

Marissa let out a sharp yeep interupting her shuddering explanition to the kind patron and other customers. Two Highly corroupted Astartes stoped just inside the door to set down... two women, an infant, and a diperbag?

"Stay hear my sweet, untill an evacuation team retrieves you." one of them buzzed before he took off after his brother. " This is a designated safe location." For a being that seemed to be made eighty percent of angry bees it was almost cute how he nuzzled his helm to one of the women's cheeks.

***

"It's good to see you sir?" Kara didn't quite know if that was the correct way to address a Jotun that was also you grandfather inlaw to be. He looked Nostromen at the point tall and rangy with tightly corded muscle. the twins burbbled into into laguhter when they finaly managed to shift to match is shape. Only they didn't quite one who had been contentedly night lord in Mirak's Arms babled seriously up at Loki a tinny human girl with fair skin blue grey eyes and hair just as black as it had been a moment ago. The baby at her hip looked betwene mama and Loki with flame red hair and delighted laughter dancing in emerald green eyes.

[tomatojellyfish]

ok so!!! i really liked the "primarch rescuing their kidnapped spouse," and then i had a thought: what if THEY were kidnapped (and tortured) and YOU helped rescue them?

Hey @birdshapedthing apologies for the longest wait!

Well, all of them react with some degree of embarrassment and wounded pride, but it varies and let us see how exactly.

Lion El'Jonson For Lion, it is a wound to his pride, and one that he is going to take some time to recover from. However, he still praises you and is very grateful for your ingenuity and for the fact that you risked your - much more fragile than his - life to save his. He may not throw you a big celebration, but his quiet acceptance of the fact that you are much stronger than he thought you were will linger in your daily life for years to come.

Fulgrim Fulgrim is tricky. On one hand, he is elated that you have shown such progress. On the other, he is embarrassed that he has been seen in such a humiliating situation. Honestly, he is off to find some quiet time and may even seclude himself from you after the rescue. But once it is done, he will come up with some way to show his appreciation. And worry not, it will be as perfect as it could possibly be.

Perturabo Perturabo is probably the worst of them. He already perceives the kidnapping and torture attempt as a huge slight against him, and having you save him, no matter how valiant you are, is simply adding insult to injury. He will be grumpy, not even thankful, at least for the first few days. After that, he will reluctantly say that yes, you did an admirable job of saving him.

Jaghatai Khan Khan laughs. He always knew you possessed a fighter's spirit, but now he has a chance to bear witness to it. And what a spectacle it is. You are a fury reborn, crushing those who dared to cage him and taking no prisoners. He will make sure to write about your valor once the danger has passed, after he has rushed you away, of course.

Leman Russ Leman's pride is hurt, but seeing you charging in, probably leading a band of his sons, just makes him love you more. Truly, you are a soul that completes his own. After the battle - short and bloody - the first thing he does is pepper you with kisses and sing praises. And after that, there will be a feast of feast on Fenris - all in your honor.

Rogal Dorn Dorn's bastion has been breached, and he has been taken hostage. Moreover, he is a torture victim. So when he sees his sons, led by you, breaking through the wall that he knew was structurally unsound, he smiles. Even with his bruised face, he smiles. He taught you well, and now you are about to show his captors exactly why good fortifications are of the utmost importance.

Konrad Curze Konrad is pissed. Not at you, but at the situation and at himself. Once he sees you, he barks at you to release him so he can have his fill of blood and flesh. If you ignore him, he will sulk for days afterward. But he will still bring you something questionable as a present. If you do let him loose, well, you will know exactly who you just freed.

Sanguinius The first part of saving the great angel is reining his sons in because they are ready to charge without a plan or care. The second part is reining them in once again when you breach the inner chamber and see Sanguinius beaten and bruised. Yet you manage both tasks admirably. And now you have your angel lying in bed, ready to be taken care of by you. Did he foresee it?

Ferrus Manus Holding Gorgon down is not an easy feat. Beating him up is even harder. He does not give his assailants a moment of peace, and that gives you an opportunity to strike from behind. Everything is over in an instant, and then he finally breaks free and stops because he sees you. In that moment, he is weaker than he was before. Your flesh was stronger than his steel.

Angron For Angron, being a captive is another layer of cruelty. It brings him back to a situation he thought he had escaped long ago, but now he is back where he was, exactly as helpless as before. Then he sees you charging in to save him. For the moment, everything goes quiet. And next he sees you dealing with everything in the room. The world is full of sounds and lights again, but they shine upon you and you alone.

Roboute Guilliman For once, there were no contingency plans for Roboute, so he was captured. However, despite the lack of a contingency plan, you charged in like a cavalry officer with his sons, quickly dispatching his assailants. Well, apparently everyone in the room needed to learn that underestimating you is a bad idea, including Roboute himself.

Mortarion While Mortarion does not take well to being captured, he knows he can endure. No matter what they throw at him, his foster father has probably done much worse. Yet he is surprised to see the room filling with a gas he knows he can tolerate but others cannot. Once all the assailants are on the floor, the door opens and you step in. He can tell it is you even with the mask. Just look at you, using his methods. Truly, you are his match.

Magnus the Red Holding Magnus captive is more of a psychic than a physical task. So they surround him with Blanks, which causes him great pain, but they did not count on you bringing a big old hammer to this fight. After all, magic is magic, but ten pounds of metal to the face is still ten pounds of metal to the face. After the daring, if somewhat rudimentary, rescue, you will have the great honor of taking care of your Red King and hearing his slightly feverish words of thanks directed toward you and you alone.

Horus Lupercal Horus is beyond embarrassed at seeing you and the Mournival charging in to save him, yet it still fills him with pride. Yes, you are truly worthy of him. He will, however, try never to mention that. At least not in public. In private, that is an entirely different matter.

Lorgar Aurelian Lorgar is humbled and inspired. This is proof that you truly are a saint sent into his life to light the way and always support him. Dear one, once you dispatch those miscreants, he will be sure to fall to his knees and whisper words of vehement prayer toward you, despite this being neither the time nor the place. But even if you manage to avoid the worship in the moment, prepare for it to happen at the altar once the two of you are safely out of here.

Vulkan Vulkan is beyond worried. Even beaten and tortured to the point of near death, he is worried that you are going to be hurt. And that alone gives him the strength to break free and absolutely decimate everyone in the room, all to ensure that you do not get hurt.

Corvus Corax The fact that someone managed to get ahold of Corvus, let alone capture him, is bewildering. But they may have captured the shadow, yet they are not as good at hiding it, because you and his sons were able to find him within a matter of days and are now planning the stealthy rescue operation. The kidnappers will not know what hit them, but Corvus will always know that it was you who saved him.

Alpharius Omegon How someone managed to get ahold of either Alpharius or Omegon is a mystery. But if someone got hold of the two of them, that would be a miracle. What is less of a miracle is that you are arriving as a cavalry force with a dozen lookalikes, each claiming to be the real one. So now the kidnapper is confused, and you have the element of surprise. Do not waste it, because then you will be handsomely rewarded, after the rescue mission, of course.

-----------

Hey! I now have more here! (and here)

-----------

+Taglist (if you want to be added - let me know, I suck at not-direct communications): @beckyninja, @the-mysterious-detective, @randomlyappearingartist, @nereidof40k, @bookandyarndragonwritesdark, @renegadesyx, @incrediblethirst, @omg1wanttidd1es-sb, @stpdeletacc, @baldieboi , @acgames, @veryspecificreason, @jackalwolfsoul, @hopefully-grimderp, @acexsmhking, @trackerkitsune, @catabibaz0n , @subtlepoisonknowledge, @yyourmotherr, @riokunova, @marcela2000, @f1shz , @rogalist-of-dorns, @aggresivemenace, @passionofthesith, @t-boneless, @tea-ring, @nightlordlover, @lithiummoonfox, @warhorny-on-main, @candorarchives, @mehiwilldoitlater, @boxguy2bear, @pippinsquishums, @loverofbumblebees, @aprofessionaln00b

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Not me imagining Magnus being taken away by his bride in her arms like the princess he is?

[sleepyfan-blog]

Day 12 - my last hope

Author’s note: Day 12 of Writing The Layers! Master list here. I hope you enjoy the fic!

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @legionsofthehungry

@felinisnoctis @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Warnings: money problems, attempted past financial manipulation, grief, loss of a loved one,  please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!

Summary: Phagia is confronted while grieving his bonded. 

"I was told that I'd find you here at this time of day, lurking over grandfather's grave." A well dressed mortal called out, their well-tailored clothes and shine-polished leather shoes out of place in the partially overgrown graveyard that Phagia was currently kneeling in.

His brothers had convinced him to bury what was left of his bonded here, where his wife had been buried years before he had ever arrived on Ancient Terra. It was a wish that his bonded had spoken of, but in those first few weeks Phagia had lost himself in the mourning and did not know how much time had passed until one of his brothers had found him weeping and mourning. 

Phagia was knelt beside his bonded's grave, having replaced the pot of his bonded's favorite flowers in the morning. The ancient death guard did not want to speak, but ignoring the mortal was not working. 

The impatient tap-tap-tapping of their well-polished shoes and the increasingly loud huffing and stony glares being sent his way spoke to that. 

"What do you want?" Phagia asked, having patience only for the passing of time, and the caring for what was left of his bonded and very little else. 

"I want you to cede what grandfather left to you in his will to me." The young mortal answered, their chin tilting up a little, as defiance and purpose filled them.

"Why?" Phagia asked, tilting his head a little "So you can sell the land that he loved and cared for to those who would destroy every bit of what he loved of that place?"

"How fucking dare you! I was his favorite before you came into his life! I just had to meet with him once a month for a couple of hours, help him around the house and listen to the same boring stories over and over again and I got the best of what the old bastard had! Then you came into his life, and he changed everything! He changed the will so that me and the others get ten dollars each and everything else goes to you! The money, the land, the house. It's not fair! You tricked-"

"Do not defile what I had with your grandfather with your jealousy and violet-tainted avarice." Phagia growled, patting the ground that his beloved slept beneath twice in silent apology as he turned to face the mouthy mortal fully. "I never asked him for anything but for the time and care he was willing to give me."

The well-dressed little shit stamped their foot again "You don't understand! Those lands and money were supposed to be mine! For me! I was counting on being able to sell off that land when he was gone. You need to give it over to me. You don't really need money or land, you can live with the other big bastards. This is my last hope!"

"For what? What do you need the amount of money you believe is entitled to you for?" Phagia asked, tilting his helmet a little as he stared at the other. His proboscis flicked out, catching the scent of not just indignation and rage, but also desperation and fear. "Speak truthfully and I may be moved to aid you."

"I... Look... The restaurant business is really expensive, and I borrowed from some really... Not good people. I need to pay them back soon or they're going... I don't know what exactly they'll do to me, but it's not going to be. Selling the old man's farm would give me enough money to not just pay them off, but to keep the restaurant afloat until it gets super popular. A popular internet food-influencer is going to be visiting soon and I know they plan on visiting my restaurant. I just need to stay open until they release the video saying how good the food is and everything will be on the up and up." The mortal answered, desperation and hope perfuming the air. 

"... I will not give you the money that you feel entitled to that was left to me by your grandfather, nor the lands that he wanted to stay partially wild, partially as a beautiful garden to feed those who seek it." Phagia answers. He raised a rotten hand as the mortal started to speak "Hush. But I will give you the number of a wealthy brother of mine. He can help you get the funds you require, if you agree to his terms."

"... and if I refuse? What if I contest the will?" The mortal demanded.

"With what money? It requires money to do this, yes? You already spoke of your desperation. I know that you do not get along well with your siblings and cousins, else you would have asked them for money - or tried to come with me as a united front." Phagia answered, his voice steady and calm. 

"... Give me his number. I'll... Call him." The mortal answered, their whole body sagging as they surrendered. 

The Death Guard smiled and gave him Hura's number "I will tell him to expect your call. Now, if you wish to spend time at your grandfather's grave, I invite you to mourn with me. Otherwise... Leave." 

The mortal hesitated for a heartbeat.

Two.

And then they left, going back to the very sleek looking vehicle that they had arrived in a short while ago. 

Phagia returned to his vigil over what was left of his beloved bonded's remains, crooning softly one of the hymns of sorrow and despair, allowing his grief to show in full once more. 

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Absolutely stunning. Me thinks one of the DG (probably Hura) is gonna have a minion.

[apricops]

as part of their ongoing boycott, Canada will no longer provide the US with totally real long-distance girlfriends who definitely exist

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

[sleepyfan-blog]

Day 11 - never learn

Author’s note: Day 11 of Writing The Layers! Master list here. I hope you enjoy the fic!

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @legionsofthehungry

@felinisnoctis @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Warnings: nightmare, heartbreak, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!

Summary: Valdir has a nightmare and wakes with aching, broken hearts and a body that can barely move.

Thick, dark fluid sucked Valdir down deeper. He gasped and coughed as he struggled to swim upward. Whatever he was surrounded by, it had seemed into his helmet and armor, and was too thick for him to breathe easily.

He kicked and flailed, struggling for every upward bit of momentum he could manage. He swore that he could feel hands made up of the thick substance dragging him down deeper, keeping him trapped.

Eventually one of his hands broke the surface of the gelatinous fluid and he found solid ground. He gripped it with all of his strength as he pulled his second arm free, and heaved upward.

Dragging himself free of the substance and onto the firm, dry land was exhausting beyond measure. Valdir reached up and removed his helmet, coughing and spluttering to clear his lungs and mouth of the vile substance.  He coughs and pants as he lays down on the ledge he'd managed to drag himself up onto, trying to catch his breath and trying to regain his energy. 

"What are you doing, idiot?" Mallory hisses, her lovely, beautiful, perfect voice knifing her way through his hearts. 

Valdir looks around, trying to find her "Beloved? Where are you? Why can't I see you?" It's so dark here, and his own voice echoes back at him, twisting into something haughty and mocking. 

"You never learn. I never wanted you in my life, and when you pushed and pulled and I was gracious enough for you to spend some time with me you took and took more than I was willing to give. Leave and die for all I care." Mallory hisses, and he feels a pair of small hands shove him back into the thick, sucking pit of viscous fluid. 

Valdir woke with a gasp, sitting upright and trying desperately to figure out what was going on. "I... What... Where?" He croaks, staring at a painstakingly clean and tidy medical bay room. He was not covered in viscous fluid, even as every beat of his hearts ached and tears blurred his vision. His dearest bonded had utterly rejected him for being too clingy, too curious... Too much for her. "I am... I am sorry, my love. You abhor my presence, so I will not inflict myself upon you again." 

He closes his eyes, as tears fall freely from his face. He can hear the angry voices of who sound like two older brothers... But Valdir can't muster the energy to try and get up to try and figure out why they are so mad. At each other? About something? 

Exhaustion claimed him once again, dragging him back into that black, viscous pit. 

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Oh no! Poor guy! Is Valdir Ahirom's other/given/last name or are is there another EC languishing on Ash'val and Opal's couch/guest bed?

Cause Ahirom knew Malory as Emily.

Also surfaceing to to Zarrius and Tercelle arguing? That might be enougn to wake the dead.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Valdir is someone else.

Emily was a fake name that Mallory was going by for a little while

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Ooooh so three Bond sick guys, two in the scout protection room and one who had the presence of mind to be a social creature and seek help and comfort from friends

[sleepyfan-blog]

Correct!

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Ahirom could stand a visit from Lullaby I suspect, but much less urgently than Valdir and Vorca.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Day 11 - never learn

Author’s note: Day 11 of Writing The Layers! Master list here. I hope you enjoy the fic!

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @legionsofthehungry

@felinisnoctis @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Warnings: nightmare, heartbreak, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!

Summary: Valdir has a nightmare and wakes with aching, broken hearts and a body that can barely move.

Thick, dark fluid sucked Valdir down deeper. He gasped and coughed as he struggled to swim upward. Whatever he was surrounded by, it had seemed into his helmet and armor, and was too thick for him to breathe easily.

He kicked and flailed, struggling for every upward bit of momentum he could manage. He swore that he could feel hands made up of the thick substance dragging him down deeper, keeping him trapped.

Eventually one of his hands broke the surface of the gelatinous fluid and he found solid ground. He gripped it with all of his strength as he pulled his second arm free, and heaved upward.

Dragging himself free of the substance and onto the firm, dry land was exhausting beyond measure. Valdir reached up and removed his helmet, coughing and spluttering to clear his lungs and mouth of the vile substance.  He coughs and pants as he lays down on the ledge he'd managed to drag himself up onto, trying to catch his breath and trying to regain his energy. 

"What are you doing, idiot?" Mallory hisses, her lovely, beautiful, perfect voice knifing her way through his hearts. 

Valdir looks around, trying to find her "Beloved? Where are you? Why can't I see you?" It's so dark here, and his own voice echoes back at him, twisting into something haughty and mocking. 

"You never learn. I never wanted you in my life, and when you pushed and pulled and I was gracious enough for you to spend some time with me you took and took more than I was willing to give. Leave and die for all I care." Mallory hisses, and he feels a pair of small hands shove him back into the thick, sucking pit of viscous fluid. 

Valdir woke with a gasp, sitting upright and trying desperately to figure out what was going on. "I... What... Where?" He croaks, staring at a painstakingly clean and tidy medical bay room. He was not covered in viscous fluid, even as every beat of his hearts ached and tears blurred his vision. His dearest bonded had utterly rejected him for being too clingy, too curious... Too much for her. "I am... I am sorry, my love. You abhor my presence, so I will not inflict myself upon you again." 

He closes his eyes, as tears fall freely from his face. He can hear the angry voices of who sound like two older brothers... But Valdir can't muster the energy to try and get up to try and figure out why they are so mad. At each other? About something? 

Exhaustion claimed him once again, dragging him back into that black, viscous pit. 

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Oh no! Poor guy! Is Valdir Ahirom's other/given/last name or are is there another EC languishing on Ash'val and Opal's couch/guest bed?

Cause Ahirom knew Malory as Emily.

Also surfaceing to to Zarrius and Tercelle arguing? That might be enougn to wake the dead.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Valdir is someone else.

Emily was a fake name that Mallory was going by for a little while

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Ooooh so three Bond sick guys, two in the scout protection room and one who had the presence of mind to be a social creature and seek help and comfort from friends

[sleepyfan-blog]

Day 11 - never learn

Author’s note: Day 11 of Writing The Layers! Master list here. I hope you enjoy the fic!

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @legionsofthehungry

@felinisnoctis @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Warnings: nightmare, heartbreak, please ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it!

Summary: Valdir has a nightmare and wakes with aching, broken hearts and a body that can barely move.

Thick, dark fluid sucked Valdir down deeper. He gasped and coughed as he struggled to swim upward. Whatever he was surrounded by, it had seemed into his helmet and armor, and was too thick for him to breathe easily.

He kicked and flailed, struggling for every upward bit of momentum he could manage. He swore that he could feel hands made up of the thick substance dragging him down deeper, keeping him trapped.

Eventually one of his hands broke the surface of the gelatinous fluid and he found solid ground. He gripped it with all of his strength as he pulled his second arm free, and heaved upward.

Dragging himself free of the substance and onto the firm, dry land was exhausting beyond measure. Valdir reached up and removed his helmet, coughing and spluttering to clear his lungs and mouth of the vile substance.  He coughs and pants as he lays down on the ledge he'd managed to drag himself up onto, trying to catch his breath and trying to regain his energy. 

"What are you doing, idiot?" Mallory hisses, her lovely, beautiful, perfect voice knifing her way through his hearts. 

Valdir looks around, trying to find her "Beloved? Where are you? Why can't I see you?" It's so dark here, and his own voice echoes back at him, twisting into something haughty and mocking. 

"You never learn. I never wanted you in my life, and when you pushed and pulled and I was gracious enough for you to spend some time with me you took and took more than I was willing to give. Leave and die for all I care." Mallory hisses, and he feels a pair of small hands shove him back into the thick, sucking pit of viscous fluid. 

Valdir woke with a gasp, sitting upright and trying desperately to figure out what was going on. "I... What... Where?" He croaks, staring at a painstakingly clean and tidy medical bay room. He was not covered in viscous fluid, even as every beat of his hearts ached and tears blurred his vision. His dearest bonded had utterly rejected him for being too clingy, too curious... Too much for her. "I am... I am sorry, my love. You abhor my presence, so I will not inflict myself upon you again." 

He closes his eyes, as tears fall freely from his face. He can hear the angry voices of who sound like two older brothers... But Valdir can't muster the energy to try and get up to try and figure out why they are so mad. At each other? About something? 

Exhaustion claimed him once again, dragging him back into that black, viscous pit. 

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Oh no! Poor guy! Is Valdir Ahirom's other/given/last name or are is there another EC languishing on Ash'val and Opal's couch/guest bed?

Cause Ahirom knew Malory as Emily.

Also surfaceing to to Zarrius and Tercelle arguing? That might be enougn to wake the dead.

[kit-williams]

To yearn...

@egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@ms--lobotomy @nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @felinisnoctis @riokunova

@superunkn0wn @bookandyarndragon @saintsylestine @legionsofthehungry @ladyoflucky

@theonceunknown @nereidof40k @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

He was a dog but that was what all Custodes were for the Emperor. They were all attack dogs and sure he made them all proper and posh but the heresy ripped the muzzle free of Apollo as he watched his beloved Emperor fall into decay and ruin for an Empire that loved him wrong but they needed something to believe in because that was the fatal flaw of humanity is they needed something to believe in.

He's seen the ancient temples to gods that are forgotten by his time and yet their impressions are felt ages beyond their original time. And yet he was here... thrown into the past... thrown into combat... thrown to Aurora. Apollo knew he was grasping tightly on something... he was holding this bond tightly because he too needed something to believe in.

He needed her smiles... the way she drags her hand on his face... the gentle kisses to his cheeks or forehead. He needed her to ask him to help with her needs and wants. He needed her to look up at him with those golden eyes of hers... to look up at him as she rides him. He needs to hear her beg him for a relief he can provide. He needs her to need him beyond the eternal guardian. Perhaps it is not his place as one of the Dread Host. But he needs her to need him for so much more.

To hear her sigh in his arms the way she sighs reading to books she is fond of... the ones of fantasies he is able to complete. He just needs her to see him beyond his silent guard... to be able to bring her to completion and feel those lips upon his mouth. But he is left unable to impose such will upon the little Empress so he is simply left here... yearning and hoping that she utilizes the tool in her possession.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Oooo! This is sooo good!

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

I know!

[kit-williams]

To yearn...

@egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@ms--lobotomy @nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @felinisnoctis @riokunova

@superunkn0wn @bookandyarndragon @saintsylestine @legionsofthehungry @ladyoflucky

@theonceunknown @nereidof40k @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

He was a dog but that was what all Custodes were for the Emperor. They were all attack dogs and sure he made them all proper and posh but the heresy ripped the muzzle free of Apollo as he watched his beloved Emperor fall into decay and ruin for an Empire that loved him wrong but they needed something to believe in because that was the fatal flaw of humanity is they needed something to believe in.

He's seen the ancient temples to gods that are forgotten by his time and yet their impressions are felt ages beyond their original time. And yet he was here... thrown into the past... thrown into combat... thrown to Aurora. Apollo knew he was grasping tightly on something... he was holding this bond tightly because he too needed something to believe in.

He needed her smiles... the way she drags her hand on his face... the gentle kisses to his cheeks or forehead. He needed her to ask him to help with her needs and wants. He needed her to look up at him with those golden eyes of hers... to look up at him as she rides him. He needs to hear her beg him for a relief he can provide. He needs her to need him beyond the eternal guardian. Perhaps it is not his place as one of the Dread Host. But he needs her to need him for so much more.

To hear her sigh in his arms the way she sighs reading to books she is fond of... the ones of fantasies he is able to complete. He just needs her to see him beyond his silent guard... to be able to bring her to completion and feel those lips upon his mouth. But he is left unable to impose such will upon the little Empress so he is simply left here... yearning and hoping that she utilizes the tool in her possession.

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Ooooh so fun. Apolo is so unhinged in some ways.

[omg1wanttidd1es-sb]

Baby learned how to do taxes before she could even talk

Also helping papa so he can spend more time reading to her

[beckyninja]

Oh my heart! Her little serious face! 😍

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Love the look of pure determination

[sleepyfan-blog]

Day 9 - middle ground

Author’s note: Day 9 of Writing The Layers! Master list here. Thank you @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow several of your OCs! I hope you enjoy the fic!

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @legionsofthehungry

@felinisnoctis @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Warnings: mention of nightmares, mentioned astartes trafficking, mentioned memory alteration, please ask me to tag something if I've missed it.  

Summary: A fireside chat among brothers and cousins.

“We’re going to need to tell at least a couple of the firstborn or Terran born apothecaries about some of the differences in our biology to theirs.” Cedric stated, staring into the crackling flames of the cooking fire that had been lit at sunset. There was very little smoke, so as to hopefully draw less attention.

Belus’ eyes narrow and the young Dark Angel hisses “Absolutely not. Secrets keep us safe. You know this, Cedric.”

The young Black Templar looks over at Belus and asks “And what happens when another trainer like Faroh appears? Who’s to say that another one of those miserable firstborn bastards who knows about certain… Deliberate changes hasn’t arrived already? We need to have a contingency plan in place for handling them. Beyond selling favors to our chaos cousins in exchange for ensuring that the fuckers are silenced.”

Hek’tar shifts a little, staring into the flickering flames “And what price do you think would need to be paid, for them to keep quiet about this? You’ve spoken about their interest and curiosity in the differences between Terran and firstborn and primaris. Well, true primaris,  not Rubicon Primaris.”

Cedric heaves a sigh, shaking his head a little “I… I feel like it depends on who we decide to tell, and how well we think he would keep the secrets.”

Thressyl is pacing around the group, eyes narrowed and searching “We don’t tell any of the heretics or traitors if we absolutely can avoid it.”

“While I agree with you that they probably shouldn’t be told, I feel like it is prudent to point out that it was older loyalists who -“ Cedric started.

Belus growled, cutting him off “Yes. We know, from the slowly returning memories that the fuckers sought to steal from us. Thressyl, you’re the only one of us here currently getting psyker training with a medical lean to it. Has he taught you anything about repairing memories hidden forcefully?”

Thressyl shakes his head “No. And I don’t want to ask him to learn about that specifically because I’m pretty sure he’d press me for why I want to learn that specifically. He’s a perceptive fuck and mildly telepathic. At least I think he is.” He pauses, before admitting begrudgingly “… He is a good teacher, strict as hell, but… Very good at what he does.”

“We could go with a version of the truth. That you suspect that the memories of some of your fellow primaris may have been altered without their consent, and that they are getting nightmares and sense-memories the longer they are on ancient terra.” Cedric offers quietly. “We just… Won’t give him exact numbers, in part because we ourselves don’t know for certain how many of us are missing pieces of our memories. Or why, specifically, for that matter.”

“And when that nosy old witch asks who, specifically, who do you think should be singled out for admitting to such a weakness?” Belus hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits, curling in on himself defensively. 

The silence was very heavy and pointed, save for the whispering of the trees, and the crackling of the dancing flames. 

“If he pushes for a specific name, give him mine.” Cedric answers, his voice not shaking due to sheer force of will. “It’s true enough and should be a good test to see what he does, if he does anything and how he responds. Besides, if he tries anything… Untoward, between you and me Thressyl, we should be able to overcome him. Especially if we have some of the others on standby.”

Belus relaxes just a little “So it’s both a test and an ambush.”

“No, it’s only going not be an ambush if he responds… Incorrectly. If he truly is as forthright and honorable as he presents himself to be, then he has nothing to fear.” Cedric answers, his voice mild and calm. His fists are curled tightly in his lap, his fingertips cutting bloody crescents into the palms of his hands. he’ll clean and dress those wounds later.

“I’ll see if I can get him to talk about such things while we are on one of our walking exercises outside of the base.” Thressyl offers. “In one of the parks, where I am sure we won’t be overheard or watched by those who we don’t want to be seen and heard by.”

“Which park? I can gather some of the others and we will ensure your safety and privacy.” Belus asks, his eyes lighting up a little as he begins to mentally go through the list of everything and everyone he’d need to get in order to arrange such a thing. 

 "Birchwood Park, on sixteenth and Velix. We like going to the wooded area of the park, where the trees and the underbrush make it seem as though we are out in the wild, without having to drive or walk to the woods. It's a nice place for walking meditation, which I find easier than trying to sit still and meditate." Thressyl answers, rocking back on his feet "Are you sure that it's a good idea for you to be the one who comes forward, Cedric? A lot of the nosy old men are watching you closely."

"Of those of us who we know for certain have missing memories, I am the only one who does not have an overbearing direct supervisor, or high ranking older brother within a day of Gannet Point." Cedric points out "And of the astartes population in and around Gannet Point, the Black Templars are fewest in number."

"You're also a specialist, Cedric. I am also missing memories, and am just a battle brother." Olly offers "It would be less risky if-"

Cedric cuts him off, shaking his head a little "I have six words that will convince you that none of the affected Primaris Ultramarines should come forward to a firstborn witch-healer."

"And they are?" Atlas prompts. 

"Commander Cato Sicarius and Lady Rose." Cedric answered, a slight smirk appearing on his face. "Of the Primaris Black Templars affected... I am the only one who can perform evasive maneuvers with any sort of speed and endurance if needed. Additionally, Brothers Roland and Arnault have yet to return from their vacations with their bonded and Apothecary Adric and I are generally kept on different schedules and he is unlikely to be available easily. My Oldest Brother is half-way across the country as he works on putting our chapter to rights."

"My older brothers wouldn't give a shit that some of my memories are missing." Belus growled, and Kerubiel nods, shifting a little.

"They would use it as a pretext to drag you both and any other primaris Dark Angels they can find to their bases for your own protection. The Blood Angels would do the same for the Primaris Sons of Sanguinius who came forward if this information spreads. Black Templars are too few and currently too fragmented in this area." Cedric points out, voice gentle, even as he is implacable in volunteering for this potentially deeply risky admission. 

None of the others could come up with counter arguments to his logic, and with deep, irritated grumbles, they conceded him the point. The conversation shifted to the logistics of when and how they would secure the park without tipping off Amonhep that something was off. 

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

They definitely need somebody they can tell. Too bad Khopesh is too loyal to Anrir. And he wouldn't fully understand the gravity of what the Primaris are telling him. (At least initially)

That doesn't mean he'd go blab to just Anybody. But well...Anrir isn't just Anybody.

Khopesh would try to keep that secret. But I think he'd crack if Anrir exerted enough pressure.

[sleepyfan-blog]

the specter of Anrir is the entire reason why they are unwilling to tell Khopesh, as even if he would try to keep their secrets… Anrir would absolutely be able to tell that one of his younger Bats knows something and would push until Khopesh gave

[kit-williams]

and given Anrir is Fabius Bile Lite... He would figure shit out very quickly.

Anrir is the worst person to tell given how he has not hid that he is an apothecary specialized on making Astartes turning children into astartes.

He would push so gently playing his paternal role or hell he could even attempt with Claude if he was worried enough. But then again you gotta ask and hope that Claude hasn't been under his knife too often.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Which is why they are trying to avoid Anrir as much as they possibly can

[kit-williams]

They know they will fold

[sleepyfan-blog]

Listen! Anrir is Old and Stubborn and Very Scary!

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

He absolutely is.

Though should some of the grox shite ever get out, or he find out therough other means, Anrir would make a hell of an ally... for a price.

[sleepyfan-blog]

The thing is: they fear the price of him being an ally

[bookandyarndragonwritesdark]

Which is logical, rational, and very sensible. Also why they would only go to him with the secret if bastards had already blabbed what Martians had done to ⅕ of all true primaris.