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bleedingichorhearts · 1 day

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𝕾𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖑 𝕰𝖒𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖊

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I really wanted to create a Headless Horseman in the style of a Space Marine. I blame this post from @kit-williams. Not exactly like the book says, but… men. Also, I have found what those other alternatives look like “Blemmyes”

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

“How I Got Home” by SYML (thought it fit him.)

TW // Body Horror.

Anthelm feels for the area in front him, sensing the presence of this… this light. Something he hasn’t felt since the day he… arrived in this new world. It wasn’t the Emperor’s light, not a Primarch’s either, it was far too soft, too gentle for his master and his sons to achieve. Too weak and little for it to be them.

Too… laudatory.

Perhaps, it was a Psyker’s? No, he shot that thought down quick. There was no such thing in this world. No matter how far he has traveled this “Ancient Terra,” there was only the Adeptus Astartes Librarians. Psyker warriors created by their Primarchs gene-seed, grandchildren of the Emperor. He has yet or never met an a human on this world with the sorcery devoted into their souls. Such a thing seems to not exist in this world.

So, why does this lulling light have a pull at him? Why does this light call to him? Was this some type of trickery?

He attempts to try and ignore the strange light the first few weeks. Only for the feeling, the temptation to get stronger the moment he try’s to leave the area. Fighting, clawing, bitting at his thoughts like some rodent nawing at his brain matter. Fighting against his belief, his faith, his creed.

He was meant to seize this allurement. To overthrow it, kill it, banish it, just like he was tested with the daemons of the Chaos gods that lay beneath the Golden Throne. To test his incorruptible will, to be blessed the golden armor at the Golden Throne with the Emperors gold ridden eyes watching his newly appointed rank to serve underneath his hand and nothing more.

Anthelm done his duty underneath the Emperor of Mankind everyday then, never wanting to disappoint his Master, his Father. Abiding by every command voxed to him. Every unreasonable task until the days after the Horus Heresy.

Anthelm hasn’t expected to ever see the Emperor to look so dull, so… ungodly after the Heresy. The loss of too many limbs and mortal systemic damage far too great for the Emperors body to handle. Yet, the Emperor of Mankind still lives. His soul ridden remains never moving from his throne, rotting on it. Still commanding his rightful orders.

However, just because the Emperor lived on did not mean Anthelm could. He had died a few days prior to the Emperors fall. Perished, right on the battled soil of his god, his Emperors world. His thoughts not having enough time to call out to his master, his patriarch for his blessing of death for it had been rewarded quickly, gruesomely, dishonorably. His head being nothing but a pile of brain matter and crushed bone underneath the bloody hammer of a traitor, a Son of Horus.

He could feel his consciousness slip away through the voidness waves of the Warp when he died. His body feeling like he was just seamlessly resting above the ripples of the Warp, but he never moves, only the Warp did. Going around him, through him like slow moving wind. Never paining him.

Anthelm blankly wonders if his Emperor was giving him a second gift of life, to serve underneath his hand once more. Not wanting to lose another golden warrior of his to continue his battles. To not drown in the invisible waves of the Warp, to his death.

Though, the Warp seemed to be persistent, washing over at him, pressing effortlessly up against every pressure point it desired. Squeezing at him, crushing him, water boarding him like he was in the depths of water he shouldn’t be in. It felt like the Warp was… water torturing him. Burning his chest, his mind. Trying to get rid him, but he could still breathe and struggle within its unseeable and untouchable hold that drags at him, drowns him.

He longly waits for his conscience to leave him fully with silent, stuttering breaths. Unable to actually get a real sense of air into his lungs with the Warp winding up against him at every angle. Unable to hear what the Warp was doing to him.

Yet, he was beginning to see. To see a fraction of the Warp.

His “sight” started off as little white dots before it gradually grew like fire. Burning away at the solid thing in front of him before outlining it with white fire. The object in front of him pulsing with the flame like some infinite echolocation.

He reaches his hand forward, the strange white fire outlining his gauntlet as well as he touches the object. His fingers trailing over its rough texture. Feeling it out with his hands as this “sight” doesn’t provide him colors or details of the… dimension around him. It’s was like he was infinitely looking at a black and white eclipse. The pulsing edges of the white fire never making a flicker of noise.

Bark, he suddenly recognizes. He was touching the dry bark of a tree. He wasn’t in the warp anymore. He was on a different world.

How had he not noticed it? Has he been reborn? Resurrected? How come he wasn’t seeing any colors if he was? How come he couldn’t hear anything?

“H-HEADLESS HORSEMAN!” He hears a man stumble and scream, his head snapping in the direction of the shaking man. White flames engulfing the outline of the man, but it never burns the man as he crosses out his question on his ability to hear.

Although, headless horseman? What was that? Who was that? Was it something he should be wary of in this world?

He watches as the man smaller than him struggles with this… stick in his hand. Whimpering and shaking as his outlined head looks up and down between the stick and him before he points the stick at him? Was he telling him something—

A bullet ricochet’s off his armor, a ringing sound going off before a tiny thump where the bullet would land seemed loud between him and the whimpering man. It was then Anthelm registered that he was this “Headless Horseman.” His gauntlet coming come up to at paw at where his head would have been, but his “sight” was still there, where his eyes would be. How is such sorcery possible? …Did the warp do this to him?

The man shoots at him again. The bullet ricocheting off, scratching his armor as he quickly grows irritated by this man’s insolence. A inhumane growl leaving him despite him having no head to produce such noises.

He swipes down at the man. Giving him no time to react as he snatches the man from his neck and wastes no time to use his other to pull his neck back and away from him, exposing his neck to him. His muscles and bones popping in his neck before they tear themselves, spewing blood onto his armor before he rips his head off completely. Spine half intact in the foolish man’s body as he tosses both body parts off to the side. The stench of the man’s blood invading his senses.

Anthem shakes his “head.” The little light lulls at him again. Pulling his mind away from his first arrival on this paradise world. Tempting him once more, again and again. The white flames of his sight unable to get an outlining on this soft light in the distance. It felt like he should treasure this strange light, cherish it with his duty. Keep its light burning forever like a star. To protect it more than he would to his own master, his Emperor.

Throne, his mind drowns and burns every time he try’s to aknowledge the Emperor of Mankind. The Warp not wanting him to think such things since he found this light and at first, it made him want to extinguish this light.

How dare this simple light bring harm against his mind? How dare this light tempt him and promise him companionship, try and sway him from his duty’s?

Oh, but there wasn’t anything to abide to now, wasn’t there? There was no battles to be won. There was no important Emissaries to serve, and there was no Emperor on this planet to command him of his duty’s. It was only him, the Warp and this… suffocating light.

Throne, the little light.

He wants to touch it. To caress the edges of the light. To provide it what he was once known for. To harness its warmth it whispers, claims to have. He wanted to treasure this light. To admire every glowing perfection the light emitted.

He wants to be worthy of such a light, even if it was small. A fraction compared to the Emperor and Primarch’s. It was something he could protect and provide for once more.

‘Oh, he shall shield this little light, bestow it with anything it desires to pursue its ignited light and follow its enticing decree.’ He vows a part to himself. His “eyes” following the little light returning back into its domicile.

Anthem will not fail this little light of his.

#space marine husbandry sentience #warhammer 40k #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #space marine #space marine x reader #adeptus custodes x reader #elderich #dullahan #adeptus custodes #oc: anthelm #tw: body horror #he a lil lost golden boi

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steampoweredwerehog · 2 months

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