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I hop drearily out of bed and walk to the kitchen. I open the fridge, forget what I'm doing, and close it. I hear a bang coming from the rumpus room. As i slowly I approach i hear three more bangs and "For the Emperor!" I assume my brother is playing Space Marine on the Ps3. I open the door and see a dark blue armoured giant repeatedly shooting his huge pistol at the gaming table where I left my neglected Ork models from AoBR. A crimson fist emblazoned on his shoulder pad. He turns to me. "I have come here to offer you a job"

We then engage in a long conversation about the fact that I absolutely annihilated an Ork army with a balanced Crimson FIst list, and how it displayed that i have quite the aptitude to be a crimson fist, and I am just young enough to become a member of the chapter if I continued to show promise. I deny his offer for the day so we can play Space Marine, a game that Alessio Cortez, as he called himself, thoroughly enjoyed playing despite it being about an ultramarine. The only reason he could play was because he had lost his left arm and his right hand in a battle against an Ork Warlord and replaced it with bionics that could recalibrate their fingers to be small enough to play.

Then he escorts me to school on his shoulder. I purposefully pass my FLGS located 5 minutes walk from my school but it was shut. Upon reaching school I direct Alessio to that dill weed that dobbed in half the bus for throwing paper on the bus although it was only three kids doing it - resulting in several members being banned from that bus, two being my friends. A few cheered as Alessio put a bolt in his belly. "Heretical traitor" he declares.

We then walk out of school like badasses, well me like a badass, alessio is a badass anyways. We stop at Maccas so I can get some food, Alessio helping me because this world did not yet worship the Emperor, however he marvelled that Holy Terra was once as tame as this.

We then continue to hijack an apache helicopter from the nearby airbase and he shoots down a few planes as I haphazardly guide the copter to the rendezvous point. However a missile hits one of the propellors and Alessio is forced to pull me out of the helicopter and leap out, with me losing my arm. However upon embarking upon the Stormraven awaiting us, I am given a bionic arm much like alessio.

We now have arm wrestles a plenty that often result in a stalemate or a win to me due to the new alloy in my arm discovered by the Techmarine in the Stormraven, an alloy lost well before the rise of the Emperor.

I am currently a scout, almost ready to assume the role of a full battle brother under Alessio's company (Alessio promoted to being a Captain after finding such a legend as myself) and am writing to you from the last year of the 41st millenium. I hear I'm going to be deployed to Armaggedon, as Alessio's company is a reknowned Ork hunter company, while a few other companies are being directed to Cadia in preperation for Abaddon. The Imperium has been strengthened however, because Alessio and myself barged our way into the LGS and took all the codices and the new IG codex, so we now know all that there is to all the armies, and know each armie's weaknesses. The war should go well, and it looks like a new age of the Imperium is about to dawn.

If mum is reading this, as I am now almost a SM i dont need to eat the lunch you packed me, but the LCM was greatly appreciated.
Doing well,
your Space Marine son.

I am woken up by the cat puking in the other bed and change the sheets. I look out the window and see nothing, because he's a Mantis Warrior and hiding is habitual.

I go back to bed. It's too early for this gak.

I wake up as the sun sets on another day, crawling out of bed in my skivvies, I hop into the shower and start the radio. As the steam rises, a crash like a tornado hitting my house bursts from the other room. I jump out, throw a towel around my waist and run into the other room.

Standing in the center of my kitchen, in all his resplendent glory and covered in the dust and debris of my roof is an arterial red space marine, his shoulder adorned with a black blood drop flanked with wings. Chainsword slung at one hip, and sections of his armor painted a drab white, a narthecium gauntlet is slung under one arm and his jump pack slowly cycles down to a dull roar. He turns his head to look down the long nose of his MKVI styled helmet at me through dark green lenses. He addresses me:

"Brother, I do not know where I am or if I am amongst allies. Are you loyal to the Emperor?"

I nod in the affirmative, awestruck

"I must rejoin the fight on Signus Prime. My flock will need the tendings of a Sanguinary Priest in the coming battle against the servants of Khorne. I was tending to them before another assault when I was flung here by warp trickery. What is this world?"

I explain to him the situation. That this is Holy Terra, before the rise of the Emperor.

Obviously at loss for words he nods. When he speaks, all he can manage is "so what do we do?"

"I suppose we go to work" I offer.

He is intrigued "work? What do you know of the Emperor's work?"

I tell him of my job. Tending to the physical wounds of His most unfortunate but still beloved children in the "underhive" of this small city sector.

The Blood Angels marine is obviously aghast that such a line of work even exists but agrees to go with me, if only out of curiosity.

After I slip on a pair of appropriately red scrubs and devising a way for both of us to soar through the sky on his jump pack, we take off heading for Southside OKC. A bone jarring ten minutes later, we drop into the ambulance bay and I key us into the Emergency Department.

The night begins easy enough with open mouthed stares, cleaning rooms, breaking beds and taking a patient to CT scan where the Space Marine proceeds to pick the 250 lb man with a neck fracture straight up out of the bed and place him into the scanner for us.

After that, it's drawing blood cultures from an elderly patient where the Exsanguinator proves to be an invaluable but nearly lethal tool which leads to the patient almost needing a blood transfusion.

Around midnight a full arrest rolls into the hospital. We try our best to resuscitate him but the young man we're trying to save has been without a heartbeat for hours and the doctors converse with the nurses, about to pronounce him dead, when my new friend brushes the curtain aside and strides in, golden goblet held aloft in one hand.

"BY THE EMPEROR'S HAND YOU SHALL NOT DIE THIS DAY!" He shouts as he cradles the man's head and tips the cup up, spilling an unidentifiable red liquid into his lips and down his chest.

The monitors leap to life with heart rhythms and respiration rates as the man splutters back to life. (he rolled a 5 on his FNP)

As the night wears on after that amazing display of resurrection, I begin to feel pretty worn out and voice as much to my new friend. He reciprocates the feeling, citing his apparent warp travel as the reason. I offer to get us both coffee but by the time the words are out of my mouth he has slipped into a near catatonic state. An 8 ft. Multi ton ceramite statue standing stock still in the center of the ER. I get my coffee and start putting supplies in each of the rooms.

By the time I finish (of course he sleeps through the whole fething boring part) he is rousing himself and before long patients are rolling into the ER again and we're back to work as a team treating everything from near respiratory failure to the common cold (protip, don't ask a space marine to GENTLY swab someone's nostrils) and the night draws to a close and the sun begins to come up.

As I punch out on the time clock, a sound like the very fabric of reality being torn at starts up gratingly close to my ear. I turn around to see a flash of light that defies the senses behind my space marine visitor and an arm made of scales, armored claws, surgical tubing and warp forged armor wraps around his midsection and an equally horrifying maw appears beside his head, letting out a screaming cackle before yanking him back into the swirling vortex, sealing it behind them with the roar of a drawn chainsword and a wet squelching like the pulping of flesh.

That peal of daemonic laughter haunts me to this day.

-> Marine walks into my room (if he can fit through the door )

-> Sees my collection of Xenos miniatures

-> Sees my collection of H.P Lovecraft

-> Well, feth.

I wake up to find a hole in both the attic and my room and see a dark-green clad librarian with a boltpistol and force sword in my room. After an explanation of WTH is happening i have breakfast and change, then jump pack to school via my new friend. A casual mention of heresy gets rid of the school bullies and the RS teacher makes a hasty conversion to imperial truth some time later. I go straight to the front of the que in lunch and dick around until my mate attracts the attention of a warp daemon, which is promptly killed.

After school (and with no homework) i visit the local GW, again by jump-pack and basically get as much as i want for free, then play a game resulting in a crushing defeat for my rival. Afterwards i mention to him about recruitment, then he scans me and it's detected i am a psyker, which results in the two hated teacher thrown high into the air and a power axe as a gift, i am then put through training and a couple years later go back to school as a lexicanum.

For the Emperor!

I dont even have to go anywhere today! So I guess me and my marine would just sit around on Dakka all day, I'd probably end up dead for heresy, he'd probably veiw my computer as a god, you know, normal stuff.

I wake up and realise my Space Marine is an Iron Warrior.
I tell him I play Imperial Fists.
He decapitates me.
The End.

Marine wakes me up by collapsing the front stairwell under his weight. I, not knowing what the feth is going on, wake up, grab my side-arm, and go to see what the hell is going on out there.

Space Marine sees that a) I have a pistol and b) I have an eight-pointed star tattooed on my chest, so then proceeds to shoot me with a bolt-pistol.

The end.

 Psienesis wrote:
Marine wakes me up by collapsing the front stairwell under his weight. I, not knowing what the feth is going on, wake up, grab my side-arm, and go to see what the hell is going on out there.

Space Marine sees that a) I have a pistol and b) I have an eight-pointed star tattooed on my chest, so then proceeds to shoot me with a bolt-pistol.

The end.

Wait what?! I understand not these fools that decorate their body so.

I'd wake up, to find a Ultra Marine sitting on my computer playing Space Marine with a extra-large-super-durable keyboard. I ask how it goes, "It goes well mortal" then we go apply for a job, I get it obviously and once work is done for the day, we go and get a few chips, a couple of Xboxes and 2 copies of Space Marine for Multiplayer. Then we play DoW and the like. it goes on til then end of my days, Work, Chips, Space Marine Multiplayer, DoW. Then he discovers Dungeons & Dragons...

If I open my Door to a space marine, I am screaming WAAAAAAAAAAAGH! and pulling the melta gun I keep behind the door out.

"What would you like to drink today?"

"2 coffees and a milk."

"You shall have 2 sessions of repentance and period of fasting." -closes tray-

This comment made my day. Have an exalt.

I also particularly like this one:

 Brennus43 wrote:
"You need to check your weapons at the front."

"Why puny mortal?"

"Well in case an inmate takes us hostag... Nevermind we'll be fine."

Marines in my headcanon are a bit more, well, relaxed than normal for the fluff, so it'd probably go something like this:

CHILDREN: Aaaaaaaaaaaah! [jump into bed]
WIFE: What's wrong?
ME: Wha? Bwuh huh?
[horrible crunching sounds as someone wearing 4" wide pauldrons tries to get up the 3" stairway to the converted attic where the wife and I slep]
HIM IN A VOICE LIKE GRATING IRON: Um. Hi. I'm Brother-S....
WIFE: Aaaaaaaah!
ME: Oh Christ an 40K cosplayer got in the house.
HIM: No, no, I'm really a Marine.
WIFE (comforting children): Wait, do you know him from work?
ME: No, no, he's not a US Marine, he's -- he's pretending to be one of the space knights from that game with the cover you don't like.
HIM: I'm not pretending. I'm a Space Marine and I'm here to....
9-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER: Why can't we have one of the space nuns?
HIM: Look, I'm sorry if....
DAUGHTER: There are only two pages of pictures of space nuns in the whole book, you know, it's not fair.
HIM: I -- I have no idea what you're talking about.
4-YEAR-OLD SON (always defending his sister): Yeah! You a mean knight!
HIM (clearly hurt): I'm not mean!
ME: Look, let's -- let's take you down to the kitchen, ok?
HIM (defeated): Oh. Okay.
[we start down the stairs]
ME: What the hell did you do to the plaster?
HIM: Sorry. It's the pauldrons, they're a pain in the....
WIFE (from the top of the stairs): Oh my God, look what he did to the plaster!
HIM: Sorry, sorry.
WIFE: We can't afford to fix this!
HIM: Sorry, sorry, sorry...
SON: You a mean pirate!
HIM: I -- I don't understand any of what's going...
ME: We'll figure out something.

Eventually I rescue the Space Marine from my family, sit him down (on the floor, on the rug so he doesn't scratch the wood) in the kitchen, and explain that I work from home most days, because I'm a journalist -- I wisely decide to scrap my plans to go in the Pentagon today and instead watch the Navy briefing on webcast -- so there's really not much for him to do. He seems disappointed but eventually my family come down, my 4-year-old drags him into a game of Sleeping Queens while my wife forgives the damage to the plaster -- once he promises his Chapter will pay for repairs -- and ends up having a long conversation with him about his childhood. Meanwhile my daughter tells him how gross he is and why 40K doesn't have enough girls in it.

At the end of the day, the Astartes is thoroughly worn out and glad to leave.

 Furyou Miko wrote:
I am woken up by the cat puking in the other bed and change the sheets. I look out the window and see nothing, because he's a Mantis Warrior and hiding is habitual.

I go back to bed. It's too early for this gak.

No it's an Alpha legionary pretending to be a mantis warrior

I'll bite.
Wake up to a skull faced faceplate in white robes.
"So you know of the fallen..."
Oh god!
No one ever find my body.

 Inkubas wrote:
I'll bite.
Wake up to a skull faced faceplate in white robes.
"So you know of the fallen friends that I have misplaced..."
Oh god!
*BLAM!*
No one ever find my body.

i cant help but laugh at some of these. i think 40k needs more laid back marines. like sister sydneys one

And I might as well join this.

With my phone usually ringing as an alarm clock, I tiredly grab it to shut it off. But this morning, there's a rather foul smell that I immediately smell. The kind of smelly smell, that smells like rotten tissue, or hell rotten flesh in general.
So of course, I look out of the window. But to my big surprise, it seems like my whole garden is deceased and rotten, with the fence smashed open. But the smell can't possibly be from that, so I go out to my corridor, immediately spotting footsteps that seemed to have rot the floor, with a rather disgusting looking trail of ooze and stuff I don't even recognize. All leading to the living room.

I still walk to the room, trying not to step on any of the nasty stuff in the corridor, and right there at the window, I spot the large armoured figure. But he doesn't look like a loyalist, but rather something more foul.

From what I can see at the back of him, his armor was dull and sickly green, with obvious cracks here and there, as ooze keeps flowing out of them. I look at the shoulder pad to see what was on it, and it seems like one from an older mark of armor, but with three dull golden skulls on it. And finally, the marine notices me, and turns around to greet me with a rotten smile, and exposing his even more plague-inflicted front.

"Well, what do we have here?" he says, as he steps towards me, with me obviously stepping a bit back. "The resident of this house I presume?"
"Umm, y-yeah this is my house al-alright." I reply, as I just keep trying to get more away from him.

"And I see that you're a particular fan of our grandfather." He hints towards the nurgle marines, that I have in the living room on a shelf, along with the Great Unclean One from Forgeworld.
"How about I'll grant you a gift, from our grandfather himself?"

Tbh I would personally die in two seconds if I got anywhere near a Plague Marine.¨

Coming anywhere near that gak does not seem healthy, at all.

It wouldn't have been that much better if I just died in my bed, would it?

I dunno everyone likes presents!!

 BrotherHaraldus wrote:
Tbh I would personally die in two seconds if I got anywhere near a Plague Marine.¨

Coming anywhere near that gak does not seem healthy, at all.

Well, he IS our deific antithesis...