#Warhammer 40000 AU

[nomorefstogive]

Through Love, Perfection. r/PrimarchGF and Female Primarch AU inspired story.

Hello all, this is a ficlet I made recently that I thought I would share here, I copy pasted it from the word doc hence the author's notes and such, that said please enjoy and let me know what you think of this mess of an idea.

P.S. Muse is the fan name given to female Fulgrim's lover by the community at r/PrimarchGF. I have gone ahead and made them gender neutral for this fic, though I might make them female in future ones.

Author’s Note: Well, this is certainly a surprise, we have to admit that we never thought the day would come when we would write for the 40k fandom as, despite our own fondness for the setting, we lack an enormous amount of knowledge on it and simply did not know where to start with ideas for it.

And then we saw a most interesting post on the r/GrimDank Subreddit, a post that  opened doors to vistas untouched and undreamdt of by us, each one bringing forth more and more ideas as we watched a new setting grow. 

Ladies, gentlemen, non-gendered individuals, those between, and all those others, we welcome you one and all to our first fic for the PrimarchGF AU!

Created by the wonderful community of the namesake subreddit, after we began to grow a little too large to be contained on r/GrimDank, and with the foundations of it having been laid down by the wonderfully talented u/Sweet_Older-Sister, this is a setting that has such potential for angst and wholesomeness, that we would be foolish to not throw our hat into the ring. 

This particular ficlet, is inspired by the reddit post found at https://www.reddit.com/r/Grimdank/comments/1cr6hfl/it_would_work_and_you_know_it/ made by: AAABIXIX. All credit to this idea goes to them, though I feel my own take on it is vastly different than what they, or myself from when I initially thought of it, had in mind.

We also have to thank the community of the PrimarchGF Subreddit and of Cryptek-01, who has gathered a list of the communities names, for the names used for the female Primarchs, link to post: https://www.reddit.com/r/PrimarchGFs/comments/1cypo6g/i_made_a_list_of_names_for_femprimarchs_and_their/

Yet, as with all our tales, it seems that it has a mind of its own, what started as a simple tale of vanity being both bane and hero, became something else entirely, and while we are yet confused as to how we got here, we hope you all enjoy this mess of a tale.

That said, we feel we should make clear that we are quite inexperienced with the characters of 40k, at least in terms of writing their personalities and such, and so we have given our own twist to some of them in this tale. 

Similarly, we have also taken the liberty of altering the timeline, and editing the events that took place across said timeline to better fit with the image present within our mind for the setting of this short tale.

If such heavy OOCness and AU disturbs your reading experience we apologize, and hope that you at least take a quick look at the r/PrimarchGF subreddit and at its illustrious prophetess’ profile, please go and show her some love my friends she deserves it for blessing us with this. 

If you are yet here, and have steeled yourself for whatever form of atrocity against literature it is that we have written, then we thank you for giving us a chance and hope you enjoy our little tale of-

Through Love, Perfection. 

TW for Implied Sexual content and mentions of blood and gore, along with a few mentions of violent thoughts. I think that is all.

“In All Things, Perfection.” Thus was the Creed of the Empress's Daughters, and of the Matriarch who led them forth across the stars to fulfill the great vision her mother had shown to her children once all had been gathered and their crusade readied, to usher forth a perfect golden age for mankind once more. 

Yet this creed did not just extent to the fields of war, upon which they left tableau’s of horror and vistas of carnage of such grandeur that none could deny that their talents in war were of sublime status, but also to all other such things that their Matriarch had taught them.

Poetry, sculpture, painting, dance, singing, it was easier to list a field within which the Matriarch of the Empress’s Daughters did not excel, and which she had taught her children to similarly excel, the Phoenician having guided her progeny to such a degree that were one not to see them in their armor, or the sanguine wake left behind them, they would be scarce to believe such marvelous artisans were instruments of hellish carnage.  

Yet, for all that she aspired to perfection ever did it elude her reaching hands, slipping free as an oil coated serpent, stalling but long enough to mock her with its flickering forked tongue before once more eluding her despite how hard she had pursued it. 

‘Never enough, always better, always better, it could always be better’, such were the thoughts that echoed within her head near to every hour of each day, mocking her with coy and pompous voices that drove her ever forward, desperate to at last achieve that which had eluded her.

And perhaps, in another, much darker timeline, it would have been that which had lead to her fall from grace and descent into wanton hedonism and debauchery, her mind warping and being rent asunder under the seductive whispers of the servants of Chaos. 

Yet, not in this one. 

For as she rose from her bed, skin bare of cover but the bites and scratches that she had willed to not heal for she wished to relish in their delightful aches and stings a bit longer, the saint mix of painful pleasure being enough to help her awaken swiftly as she sat about her preparations for what was to come. 

Below the great fleet that was her children’s armada, there laid a world that they had recently brought back into the fold of the Imperium, no blood having need be shed as the people below, long alone and afraid, had welcomed them as heroes and saviors, having rid them of long standing oppressors of the nearby worlds before their arrival.

And thus they had brought the world into the fold much sooner than they had expected to, indeed, they had anticipated much steeper resistance given the neighboring worlds own acts of futile rebellion, though they were not complaining for now they not only had time to rest and relax before they resumed their campaign, but also to indulge in celebrations due to commence the next day. 

So it was that across the ships that made up their fleet, not only were preparations for their next push forward commencing, but so were preparations for the celebration to come as the Astartes chose their outfits and and cosmetics for the party, or relaxed and allowed for themselves to indulge in their arts for a while before they had to depart to the world below and then forward once more. 

With fingers more dexterous than one would assume given their size, and an equally startling silence, the Phoenician opened the great dark wooden wardrobe in which she had carefully arranged a pair of clothes for the celebration to come, looking over them and making certain that they were in immaculate condition.

Upon her satisfaction of their status of being free of flaw, Fulgrim closed the doors to her dresser and turned towards her vanity, swiftly and silently striding towards it as she looked over the gathered cosmetic items and jewelry, each perfectly arranged and neatly ordered for their usage in the coming days. 

Everything was prepared, their clothes were selected and sealed up such that they would not acquire any wrinkles before the day of the celebration on the planet below them, cosmetics and jewelry neatly ordered, and yet still…

Even as she looked over the clothes that she had so meticulously selected, the makeup designed to make her already striking features even more radiant, and the jewelry meant to make her and her other half as radiant as the stars, she could still feel as though something was missing.

A sigh slipped past her lips as she brought her hand to her forehead, fingers gently kneading the skin as she closed her eyes and tried to focus on what it was that would complete their outfits, what it was that would make them perfect. 

Violet eyes slowly opened, and raked over the room, pausing but to alight with a warm glow of joy as she saw her darling’s form concealed by blankets and pillows laying on their bed, no doubt yet still worn out from their actions the night previous.

Unbidden, a chuckle slipped past her lips as the image of her lover, adorned with bites and bruises looking up at her with a pouting face as they weakly beat on her chest with their hands.

“You said…my turn to top…” Her hand had to cover her lips to prevent her chuckles from growing in volume as she recalled the absolutely adorable way her lover had tried and failed to convince her to let them continue so they could have their chance on top even as they drifted off to sleep beneath her as she watched with smug delight.

She truly had meant to let them be on top, but they were just so adorable as they writhed beneath her, how could she have passed up the opportunity to savor their expressions, their taste, their-

Fulgrim shook her head, while normally she would take the chance to revel in the memories of last night, and perhaps to give her lover something beautiful to wake up to as her moans brought them into wakefulness and into her arms, she yet still felt that nagging sensation and so she instead allowed her gaze to wander once more. 

Faintly, she felt a sensation, as though a gentle caress upon her cheek by a silken hand unseen, that bid her to turn to look at the display case that rested across the room from her, and the treasure held within it.

A prize won through blood and tears and misery, and one that she had taken quite the fancy to at first sight, even if her darling disagreed with her on its beauty, claiming that it clashed horribly with her armor and that the flaming blade she had forged with Ferrus long ago made her much more radiant, indeed it was because of that disagreement, and the threat of involuntary abstinence for several weeks, that she had not taken to wearing the blade as she had wished. 

Of course, there was reason beyond mere vanity that lent credence to her darling’s desire for her to avoid the blade, as not only was it of Xeno origin, but it also gave off a sensation that, while to her was appealing, was to her beloved revolting, and thus her caution on the matter. 

In truth, she had meant to have it sealed in the storage bay, but she had decided that it was safest where she could see it, no one could get into her chambers without her or her Muse knowing, and even if they did, they would find quite the marvelous surprise awaiting them when they did open the container without the proper key.

Something she had no interest in contending with, as she unconsciously began to open  the container and reach out her hand, a part of her yearn, begging her in silent desperation, to touch the hilt of the sword, to give in to that hypnotic allure that so sweetly beckoned her to-

“What did I say would happen if you touched that sword before it got looked at?” The Matriarch of the Empress’s Children jolted slightly at the voice that came from the corner of the room, her hand recoiling from the case she had been reaching for as eyes the color of violet lightning turning to alight upon the form that sat upon the bed, swaddled in blankets of silken cloth and rich fur, and surrounded by plush pillows easily double the length of their body as they leaned against the headboard of the titanic bed. 

The Matriarch's lips curled up into a smile as she saw her Muse adjusting themselves ever so slightly, a low groan slipping from their lips as they did so, eyes keen beyond all form of human understanding easily able to pierce through the shadows that concealed their face from the blankets draped over them and to meet the pair of rather tired looking eyes that stared back at her with no small amount of irritation present.

She could not help but allow her smile to grow a little bit as she recalled exactly why it was that her other half was so weary and covering themself in their blankets to ward off the chill of her room, and more importantly gazing at her with such a delicious look upon their face. 

Truly it was no fault of hers that her lover was so breathtaking, and what kind of connoisseur of art would she be if she did not show such a marvelous piece of artwork the reverence it was due as she laid mark upon mark of affirmation and adoration upon her lover’s bare form until no longer could they deny their own beauty and worth. 

So deep was the Matriarch's recollection of the previous evening’s events, or perhaps it had been the entire day, neither of them could reliably tell and none of the Matriarch’s daughters would dare to interrupt them during a moment of passion unless it was absolutely necessary, several bolter rounds and a flaming sword flung at them the first and only time they had done so insuring their privacy from then on, that she missed her lover reiterating their question to her several times.

Beneath the cloak of silk, fur, and cloth eyes narrowed in irritation as once more the Muse of the Phoenician repeated their query to their lover, taking acute notice of the both the absence of a forthcoming reply and of just where it was that their lover’s eyes were lingering on as they calmly took a deep breath before-

“Fulgrim.” 

They called out again, this time their tone was coated in both no small amount of exasperation, a faint undercurrent of irritation further making clear their feelings on the matter of their lover having lost herself to her own fantasies as opposed to answering them.

The Matriarch felt a not so small chill run down her spine, mind racing as she tried to  recall just what it was her lover had said, though much to her despair there came no light of clarity or spark of realization, something which her lover quickly registered as well as they began to shift and stir.

The Matriarch could not stop herself from licking her lips at the scene of her lover wearing silken blankets as a gown to cover themself as they began to stride towards her, their movements slow and, at least to the Matriarch, ominous in their approach, as the formation of a thunder head afore a storm, or the faintest hum of wrongness that heralded the Materium and Immaterium being rent asunder as Chaos sallied forth to assault them once more.

As bare feet glided delicately across the richly carpeted floor, the silken sheets shifting and swaying in a spectral breeze, the delicate motions of silk upon bare skin making Fulgrim swallow once more as she watched with dreadful anticipation as her lover drew near, each second an eternity as her lover’s eyes met her own with veiled intentions that made the Matriarch’s heart thunder. 

The thundering of her heart and the racing of her blood did not to drown out the siren song of silken sin that caressed her ears as her lover at last drew to stand before her, barely a third of the towering Matriarch’s height and yet somehow managing to project such a presence that even she, the most beautiful and most might Phoenician, felt as though it were her that was the smaller of the pair.

With hands so impossibly small in comparison to her own that barely could the delicate fingers wrap around but two of her fingers, let alone her entire hand, her lover gripped her hands and directed them to where they belonged, one to their shoulder and one to their hip as they bid her lean down such that their lips could meet, the Muse assuming the role of conductor and director of this intimate dance for several moments, lasting far longer than a normal mortal should have been able to without breaking for breath before they at last parted.

Eyes of violet and eyes concealed in shade both alighted on the thin strand of saliva that linked their lips for but the briefest of moments before it parted, the pair taking a moment to regain themselves before their gazes met once more, Fulgrim’s apologetic and her Muse’s own somewhat calmed in their irritation, though yet still narrowed.

“Apologies darling, I lost myself in marveling at the wonder befo-” Fulgrim found her words cut off as a hand lifted to place itself against her face, index finger gently coming to rest against her lips in a gesture of silence, shadowed eyes narrowing further as the Matriarch was unable to fight her urge to take the tip of the finger into her lips and begin to suckle upon it as her lover heaved a sigh before speaking.

“Why is it that everything that comes out of your mouth is either flirtatious or horribly annoying dear?” The Muse murmured to themself in question, the towering Matriarch merely smirking once more at the query as she indulged herself in suckling on the finger between her lips  for a moment longer before she released it as she pulled her lover close to her, the hands not resting on each others hips moving to intertwine as they looked into one another’s eyes. 

“I don’t hear you complaining, my dear.” The Phoenician said as her smirk turned to a smile as she saw her lover sigh once more, the corners of their own lips curling up into a small smile of their own as they leaned in to rest their forehead against their lovers own, their eyes drifting shut for several moments as the pair basked in the silent affirmation of their bond. 

Yet, even as she held the one so dear to her oh so close, humming a melodious if nonsensical tune low in her throat as she idly swayed along with her darling Muse, their came to the Phoenician a sensation of something missing, a nagging and itching sensation that made her feel no small amount of unease, though she allowed none of it to permeate through her as she held her love close. 

It would not do to frighten her Muse, least of all over what could more than likely be nothing but her forgetting something once again, something she felt had begun to do more commonly of late…hmm…perhaps she should consider taking some time off and taking her lover to visit one of the worlds in the Imperium, she had heard that one was soon to be celebrating a festival of some kind, surely she cou-

“If you keep thinking so hard, you’re going to hurt yourself and miss the party tomorrow my love.” Fulgrim sighed as she opened her eyes to look at her lover, faux hurt coloring her face for a moment as she watched her lover arch and eyebrow at her, their gaze daring her to speak up, a dare she could not possibly turn down.

“Oh? But if I get hurt then surely you would stay with me my Muse. Afterall, who would be there to nurse me back to health if not you my dear?” Fulgrim asked her lover with a delicate and pleading tone, eyes wide and innocent, or at least as innocent as she could make them, though her lover only blinked at the scene before them before the leveled an expression as flat as the plains her sister had taken to riding with her children and lover across of late.

“Hmm, perhaps I should ask Bile to take a look at you after all. If you think I am going to miss watching your sisters making fools of themselves as they try to court their lovers, then you are madder than those fools who think Rus is the dominant one in her relationship.” The Muse could not stop the low chuckle that slipped past their lips as they saw Fulgrim look at them with a faintly betrayed expression on her face, though soon she joined them in their chuckling as she thought of the spectacles that were sure to occur at the party to come.

Indeed she could not fault them for wishing to not miss the spectacles to come, especially given the whispers she had heard regarding the disaster that was Regalia Dorn being drug their by her own lover, well that and her Muse had a valid point regarding her wild sister, the woman wore a damn collar under her armor wherever she went for their Mother’s sake! 

Soon it was that their chuckles tapered off into a comfortable silence as the pair leaned against one another in silence, unconsciously moving to rest their foreheads against one another in a somewhat awkward pose, though neither cared for how they looked so long as they could enjoy the feeling of one another's warmth.

Yet eventually there came the time when the Muse pulled back with a low sigh once more slipping past their lips, Fulgrim letting out a low whimper as she chased them once more, only to be halted by a finger resting itself against her forehead as her lover spoke up once more. 

“And speaking of the party, I thought you were going to be dressing to impress, especially given how Ferrus has been boasting about the beauty of the set of armor her assistant and her have forged. Or have you decided to take pity on your sister and allow her this victory my love?” The words came with a slightly teasing lilt to them, though there was an underlying seriousness to the words that lent weight enough to them for the Matriarch to focus on them. 

 The words prompted Fulgrim to blink at her lover in confusion as she turned to look over her attire once more in the mirror, standing to her full height as she pulled her lover against her as she pictured what they would look like at the gala.

“I don’t understand darling. With what I have in mind you and I will certainly be the ones to steal the show, assuming Mother does not deign to show up.” The Pheonician said as she mentally pictured the attire she had in mind over her lover, a perfect match for her own attire, and one that she had enjoyed the challenge of making, especially given that it had one the approval of the critic that her Muse could be. 

Indeed, it was that critical nature that lead her to lending her ears to her lover’s words, the very nature that had drawn her to them when they had critiqued one of her works before her as her daughters watched on in shock at the scene of the fragile mortal critiquing their perfectionist mother’s work to her own face. 

They had expected her to snap at them, to yell and curse or draw her blade and decapitate them, and instead had been rewarded with the sight of their mother asking for the counsel of the smaller figure in regards to how to improve her next work, something which had heralded the start of their relationship. 

And now she once more welcomed their judgment, though she had to bite down the urge to snap at them, something which made her brow furrow further, she must be more stressed than she had previously thought. 

‘Yes,’ Fulgrim thought to herself. ‘Once this gala is done, we'll take some time off to rest and unwind, maybe we’ll even be able to see that play we have been looking at, I’ll have tickets for the three of…no two of us booked.’ A hand came to rest upon her brow as she heaved another sigh, yes a break would do her good, especially if she was starting to think like that. 

Perhaps she should corner Sanguinia, Volkana, and Magna and ask them their counsel on just what it was that could be plaguing her, the three had long proven themselves the most adept at helping their sisters find what it was that was plaguing them in terms of emotions and thoughts. 

“Fulgrim!” The uncharacteristically sharp tone of her Muse’s voice caused the Matriarch to jolt once more, her head shaking from side to side as she re-focused herself on the present and her lover, who was now gazing at her with open concern on their face.

“Sorry dear, my mind wandered for a moment.” The Matriarch said as she offered her lover a smile, trying to reassure them and herself at the same time, the unease she had been feeling rapidly vanishing as she took in the concern and care in her lover’s eyes as they reached up and delicately laid their hand against her cheek.

“That…has been happening too much of late.” Her Muse narrowed their eyes at her as they gently rubbed their thumb against her cheek for several moments before they closed their own eyes and offered up a weary sigh as they shook their head and took a moment to compose themself before speaking up once more. 

“Once this is done we’re taking vacation, our children can handle any matters that come up, and if it comes to it Ferrus and her brats owe us enough favors that we could have them take over any campaigns that crop up while we are off for months to come.” Fulgrim could not stop a chuckle from slipping past her lips at the last bit of her lover’s statement as she leaned down to rest her forehead against her lover’s once more, sighing as her Muse let out a low hum as the pair allowed their eyes to drift shut for a moment before they parted once more. 

“I was just considering the same thing my dear, we could visit your home world and see what new travesties they have allowed into their ‘Grand Gallery’ surely it would be an entertaining visit.” Fulgrim could not stop herself from chuckling once more as her lover narrowed her eyes at her in a scathing glare at the remark about both her homeworld and their gallery.

“I hope for your sake my dear,” Fulgrim could not stop the shiver that ran down her at the delicious sensations that hearing that voice turn from gentle silk to a frigid whip crack, “that you solely mean my coworkers allowed travesties into the gallery, I would hate to have to discipline you otherwise.” 

Fulgrim could not stop the smile that began to form on her face as she looked down at the narrowed glare her lover was giving her, a gaze of such frigid sharpness that it would drive any normal being to quake in unease and dread, she had even seen it make her daughters feel unease and that was no small feat, that left a shudder of desire wracking her frame. 

Though soon it was that the smile that adorned the Matriarch’s face twisted in a look of faux hurt as her lover reached up to flick her forehead as their own lips curled into a slightly vengeful smirk as they spoke up once more.

“Besides, idiots they may have been, and likely still are, at least they know what style is, something you seem to have forgotten my dear.” Fulgrim pouted at her lover’s words as she locked eyes with her, noting the way her lover let their gaze travel from her violet eyes to the blade that rested on the stand beside her mirror, the target of her comment being readily apparent. 

“Oh? And what does that mean, my Muse?” Fulgrim spoke up, her tone much sharper and colder than she had any intention of allowing it to be, though it seemed to do not to her lover but make their lips purse into a thin frown as their eyes narrowed into a frigid glare for several moment before they sighed and spoke up. 

“Look in the mirror, take a decent look at what you have in mind for tomorrow,” Fulgrim did so, her eyes closing slightly as she pictured the rich violet and cream colored dress she would wear, adorned with the sapphire and golden filigree designs she had spent so long designing, and the dark sapphire and cream colored clothing of her lover that they had both worked on for so long. 

Try as she might, she could not picture what it was that was making her lover so concerned for the coming gala, at least that was until her lover once more spoke up to her as they walked off towards their closet and began to rummage through it.

“You’re picturing the clothing, the cosmetics and jewelry correct? Likely imagining how you would look with that tasteless piece of metal at your side, again a flush of unbidden irritation that made the Matriarch have to bite her lip to still her tongue, but why should you settle for a simple metal blade when you could show off something like this…Oh, and happy early anniversary my love.” 

Her Muse finished their statement as they pulled out a rather lengthy container that had been kept concealed in the depths of their closet, with both hands, they pulled out what appeared to be the base of a blade, the pommel a sapphire colored gem adorned with specks of silver and violet within it, the grip adorned with cream colored leather, each strand of the binding having been carefully inscribed with designs such that when layered together upon the finished product they gave the appearance of thunderbolts striking a sapphire sea that laid above the jeweled pommel. 

Above the leather grip there was the guard of the blade, granted it was a rather unconventional one, not due to it being styled to resemble a pair of great wings made out of silver and gold with violets and sapphires carefully carved to form elegant sloping rings and bands, alongside of being used as highlights for the many feathers upon the great wings.

But rather the guards was odd, for the fact that its center most portion was shaped to resemble the form of the Muse themself, the great wings erupting from their back, their form being adorned with minute carvings and etching to make it as lifelike as possible, their lips spread into a loving smile that would gaze up at the women who wielded the blade. 

And as for the blade itself, which, while upon first glance appeared to be already a masterwork of platinum and silver colored metal, each inch engraved with ornate designs and flowing markings, though of a far too slender a shape for such a sized hilt, there was yet one other facet to cement its wonder in those that beheld it.

It took but the faintest caress upon a hidden mechanism for their to come a humming and crackling sound, one that soon grew in intensity to such an extent that it would be hard to think, and if that was not enough than the brilliant radiance that came forth in the shape of a near blinding light of violet and sapphire electricity that formed into a blade of thunder and lightning that enveloped the smaller metal blade, the electricity triggering hidden mechanisms forged by Petra herself at their behest which made the blade hum and vibrate at such a frequency that not could stop the blade once it was swung.

For a moment longer the Muse gazed upon the blade, their lips curling upwards into a smile as they disabled the lightning of the blade as they turned to present the weapon to Fulgrim, a low chuckle leaving their lips as they saw the Matriarch gape in slight shock at what was being presented to her. 

“This is-!” Fulgrim said nothing more as she immediately devoted all of her attention to the blade being held out to her, eyes wide and hungering as she ravenously took in all of the details of the weapon she was being presented with, her heart beginning to hammer as her thoughts raced at the masterwork she was being presented with.

“You would not believe how hard it was to make that thing without you figuring it out, even with so many of us working on it.” Their words made Fulgrim look at them in silent question as they smiled before they continued. 

“I had each of your sisters help me with it, Petra, Hestia, Ferrus, helped with forging it, then Petra and Ferrus made the motors and engines for the lightning while Hathor, Aurelia, and oddly enough Kassandra and Morrigan helped with the more intricate designs on the leather and carvings on it…their lovers largely just provided moral support and ideas for them.” Fulgrim’s lips had already parted into a gape of shock before her lover continued, their own lips having widened into a smile as they continued. 

“The materials were located by Magna and Juno, and then they were retrieved by Freya, Alakhi, Volkana, and Corra, she was the one to provide the jewel for the pommel, while Magna and Aurelia blessed the sword with some rather powerful enchantments and wards to make sure no one but us can touch it and that is would not dull or rust.” And now her Muse’s smile reached blinding proportions as they continued yet again.

“Lastly, we had Atlanta stress test it by sparring with Freya, Morrigan, Leona, Regalia, and Cora to see if their differing styles would damage it, while the Twins helped with coming up with a way of hiding it from you, they were the ones running interference for most of the time we were making it, and when they weren't Sanguinia was, she is also the one who came up with the idea of the angel motif for the guard.” Her Muse finished, their own eyes shining with mirthful delight as they saw their lover’s silent gape as she looked over the blade she had been presented with.

With a trembling hand, the Matriarch reached out and gently plucked the blade from their hand, the instant her hand wrapped around the grip of the blade there came forth, unseen by the pair, the faintest hint of golden wisps of light that ever so softly brushed against her skin, bringing forth a sensation of calm and clarity that drove away the unseen hands groping at the Matriarchs essence.

Though neither saw this, for they were too enveloped in the moment as the Muse stared into her lover’s eyes, a low chuckle slipping past their lips as they reached out their hand and delicately wiped away the tears, smiling as Fulgrim looked up at them from where she had been inspecting the blade.

“I…I have…I think I need to sit down.” Fulgrim finished as she moved over to their shared bed, sitting down on it as she continued to look over the blade that her lover had presented to her as her mind raced with thoughts as she took in the weapon she held, her hand softly caressing the angel design on the guard for several moments before she lifted her head to look at her lover.

Her vision slightly blurry as she tried to choke out something, anything to say, only for nothing but a low whine to come out as her lover approached her, swaying their hips to the sides as they allowed for their cloak of blankets to fall and reveal their bare form. 

With a smirk on their face, the Muse moved towards Fulgrim, prompting the Matriarch to set her new found sword on a nearby night stand as her Muse straddled her lap, their eyes shining with delight as they saw the Phoenician look at them with tears in her eyes and a slight quiver to her lips. 

“What do you think my love? Not only does it go wonderfully with your dress, but you can also show it off to everyone else and boast about your lover and your sister's talents.” Her Muse leaned in once more, gently pulling Fulgrim down as they allowed their lips to delicately graze her ear, lightly blowing into it before they continued.

“Well, what’s your answer my love? That piece of metal that clashes with your attire, or something that shows off the talents of those who love you and compliments your attire perfectly, which one do you feel like taking now?” The Muse knew what answer they would receive, especially when they felt Fulgrim gently lay her hands on their hips. 

For a moment, Fulgrim’s gaze flickered over to the Laer Blade, the pull normally tugging at her mind gone and allowing her to truly look at it, seeing the blade for the tasteless piece of sharpened metal that her lover had claimed it to be.

So her choice was already made when she allowed her gaze to flicker to the sword she had been gifted with before she returned her gaze to her lover, a silent nod giving her answer as her lover smiled in triumph as they leaned down to seize her lips with their own.

As hands began to wander, and lips hungrily devoured one another once more, the Muse allowed themself to smile as they thought of the faces of not only the poor fools that would be present at the Gala, but also of their homeworld's artisans when they saw a genuine masterpiece during their visit.

‘Oh yes,’ They thought as they felt their lover shift to be laying on her back as she pulled them atop her, hungrily pawing at their bare flesh, ‘we’ll show them what real beauty is.’ And with that last thought, they allowed themself to cease thinking as they indulged in their shared passion with their lover. 

Line Break

The day of the Gala was, as with any celebration that Fulgrim and her legion were involved with, a day of semi-ordered madness and chaos across the entirety of the legion as the Astartes raced to and fro as they tried to make themselves ready for the celebration, their desire to one-up their fellow Astartes matched but by their desire to impress their mother and her lover. 

It was amidst this scene of organized chaos that a particular example of lunacy took place, for the bedchambers of the Matriarch could be best likened to being caught within the embrace of a mad tempest as Fulgrim and her liver dashed to and fro to make sure they were properly prepared for the party to come, the pair having slightly overslept due to the previous day’s activities. 

“Damnit, where did I put my necklace!?” The Muse called out from where they were busy searching through each of the drawers and shelves they could while Fulgrim herself was putting on her makeup, watching the scene out of the corner of her eye. 

“Were you wearing it yesterday?” The Matriarch asked her lover as she finished placing her lipstick on, her gaze flickering over to where her make-up kit lay as she began to search for her eye-liner, though she paused when she noticed something out of-

“Aha!” Her darling called out from behind her as they at last spotted their platinum and sapphire necklace���atop a cabinet that was much too tall for them to reach, the sight making their left eye twitch as they tried to jump up to reach the chain, only to fail as they missed the chain by several inches. 

“Could you help me get this damn thing when you’re done?” The Muse called out as they diverted their attention from their necklace and towards getting the last of their attire on, though they did pause when they realized that Fulgrim had not answered them.

The Muse lifted their head to see their lover looking over her cabinets and displays with a confused look upon her face, her brow furrowed as she seemed to be attempting to locate something for several moments before they called out once more and caused her to jolt her awake from her reverie.

“What’s wrong?” They asked of her as they began to put on the last few articles of clothing that Fulgrim had laid out for them as they awaited their lover’s reply, a low curse slipping past their lips as they messed up a knot for one of their shoes and had to redo it. 

“Did you move that sword from Laer? I was going to have it sent to mother, but I can’t find it.” Fulgrim asked her liver as she glanced about in confusion, a sensation at the back of her mind telling her to search for it, to rend the room asunder to recover it, yet the feeling was fading with each passing second, diminishing in the time it took for her lover to offer her a confused look before they spoke up. 

“My love, I wouldn’t have touched that damn thing if you had begged me on your hands and knees. I have standards after all.” Fulgrim rolled her eyes even as a fond smile crossed her face at her dear’s usual demeanor, the Matriarch shaking her head slightly as she quipped back to her lover.

“Standards? You? Didn’t you tell me that you would have to abandon those when we started dating my love?” Fulgrim could not stop herself from chuckling at the end of her reply as she recalled the thoroughly dumbfounded looks on the faces of those around them, well most of them as Ferrus had been too busy laughing herself into near unconsciousness as her own lover doubled over beside her.

“I did, and I stand by that I have had to drop many of them, such as my standards for getting enough sleep to awaken on time for something,” her Muse gave her a faux glare as their lips twitched upwards as they continued, “and also my standard for not waking up sore and covered in bruises and bites my dear.” 

Fulgrim could not stop the laugh that slipped past her lips as she pushed aside the nagging sensation in her mind as she rose to her feet and approached her lover, smiling as she saw them narrow their eyes at her with suspicion, already planning any and all methods of avoiding her doing something that would make them any later than they would already likely be if the clamor breaking out across the ship was any indication. 

Though the Muse found themself pleasantly surprised as their lover merely reached up and pulled their necklace from where it rested atop the cabinet, slowly striding towards them as the Muse reached out their hand for their necklace, only to be denied as Fulgrim held it out of their reach with a smirk on her face.

“Let me my dear,” Fulgrim said, a chuckle slipping past her lips as her lover once more narrowed their eyes at her wariness coming alight for several seconds before they offered a nod to the Matriarch, lifting up their hair so that she could clip the necklace on.

They realized their mistake the moment they saw Fulgrim’s eyes gleaming with mirth, her lips curling ever so slightly as she mouthed the words ‘Payback dear,’ to them as she leaned in and-.

“Fulgrim, don’t you-!” Their words were cut off as the Matriarch latched her lips onto their neck, targeting an area that would be concealed by their attire, provided it did not shift enough, as she began to suckle and nibble on the skin, her actions prompting a low moan and a shudder of pleasure to rack her lover’s frame as their hands, that had been trying to push her away, instead reached up to entangle themselves in her hair and pull her in-

Fulgrim pulled back, smirking as she heard a low whine slip from her lover’s lips, both at being denied further pleasure and at the Phoenician's actions, their eyes narrowing into a slightly clouded glare even as they pouted up at her. 

Chuckling once more, Fulgrim placed their necklace on them before she turned to head back to her vanity and finish her own preparations, her lover’s murmurs of promises of vengeance for her unbidden attack upon their neck only serving to make her smile and chuckle, already anticipating what was to come both at the party and afterwards. 

Though, she still wished she knew what became of that sword. Perhaps it had been knocked from its perch during her and her Muse’s actions last night, struck by some article of clothing or knocked down when their passions became such that they were tackling one another across the room and taking one another upon each surface they could. 

Idly she shrugged to herself, she could search for it when they returned from the party, the worst case scenario being that she would have to find another gift for her mother and that she might one day find it collecting dust under a piece of furniture. 

Still, as she finished putting on the last of her makeup, all while being given a gaze that promised vengeance by her Muse, she could not shake the feeling that something, some great and irrevocable change had occurred, yet for the life of her she could not figure out what it was.

‘A concern for another day,’ She thought to herself as she rose to her feet, her new sword finding its place at her side as she outstretched her arm to her lover, watching with a smirk as they yet glared at her as they took her hand and rose from the bed to walk with her.

She chuckled to herself as she saw her Muse fidgeting ever so slightly as they adjusted their clothes to try and hide the mark she had left upon them, already aware that the Matriarch would not let them cover it with concealer, her pride at showing off such a mark to others, and her lover’s own pride at it being shown off as well, preventing such an act. 

“Come my dear, let’s make sure everyone else is ready.” Fulgrim said as the pair left their chambers and began to wander down to the shuttle bay of the ship, all thoughts of a missing blade soon being swept aside as they began the laborious task of ordering their children and making ready to depart for the celebration taking place on the world below them.

It was as they were waiting for the shuttles to take them down to the planet below that a thought struck Fulgrim, prompting her to turn to where her lover was working with several of their children to try and force some form of make up onto Bile’s face, the Apothecary fighting tooth and nail as they did so as she hurled curse and abuse upon them for their efforts, her lover eventually pulling back with a nod of approval as she motioned for them to let Bile go.

With a withering glare to the team before her, the Apothecary stalked off to seek asylum in the dark corners of the hanger, the Astartes parting to mingle with their sisters as they noted their Mother drawing near to her lover, the Matriarch chuckling as she saw her liver putting her makeup kit back into her purse before she looked at her. 

“I knew she wasn’t going to be wearing any when she was dragged out of her room, so I came prepared.” Her Muse answered her questioning gaze, her words prompting a chuckle from the Matriarch as she met her gaze once more before she asked her the question that had been on her mind for some time. 

“Actually darling, I was more curious as to what it was you offered my sisters to get their help with making this sword, nothing too precious I hope?” Fulgrim found herself surprised as her lover winced slightly at her words, their hands rising to cup their face as they let out a low groan before they let their hand fall to their side as they mumbled something under their breath.

Fulgrim blinked, already she could hear some of her daughters beginning to snicker at what they had just heard, and while she was tempted to join them, she wanted to be absolutely certain as to what it was she had just heard.

“What was that my love? I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up.” Fulgrim saw her lover narrow a glare at her for a moment before, for but a fleeting instant, a gleam came to inhabit their eyes, one that Fulgrim had come to both anticipate and dread, a gleam of mischief that typically ended with the words ‘I want to try something new,’ or ‘They wanted my opinion’.

A slight chill ran down Fulgrim’s spine as she looked at her lover, watching as the gleam faded and an exasperated look crossed their face as they spoke up, once more, their words prompting many to choke out chuckles or look at her in incredulous shock. 

“Dating Advice. I had to offer those Ceramite headed fools you call family advice on dating, because apparently them and their daughters are all idiots on the subject, and by the fucking Empress was it fun,” The way she spat the word fun, as though it were the most vile thing she had ever tasted caused chuckles to begin to break out once more, Fulgrim finding herself fighting her own laughter as she looked at her lover.

“Surely it couldn’t have been that bad, right my dear?” Fulgrim asked, watching as her lover went still such that they could have been mistaken for a particularly breathtaking statue of lifelike design beyond anything else, that is if one were not to see the way their eyes shifted to lock directly with Fulgrim’s own, molten wrath blazing within them.

‘Oh dear, I think I made a mistake.’ Fulgrim had time to think before her lover’s lips parted, and a volcano of exasperated vitriol emerged, the gathered Astartes being treated to a front row seat for the cataclysmic eruption alongside of their mother as her Muse snapped. 

“Not that bad? Not that fucking bad!? I had to coach Regalia on how the fucking guide book her daughters got her did not cover everything, oh and turns out no one had ever bothered to explain to her what sex is!” Fulgrim was not the only one to gape at the Muse as they continued on, their hands clenching tightly as their lips spread into a perversion of a smile.

“I had to have Aurelia help me explain what it was to her because everyone else was too busy laughing, then I had to try and get Aurelia to stop helping me before she made Regalia’s head pop from how much blood was rushing to it.” Fulgrim felt the chuckles slipping past her lips at the image that played across her mind, though she felt said laughter slip past her lips in greater quantity as the Muse continued with-

“Then I had to tell Morrigan that maybe the reason her lover is constantly emptying  buckets of perfume on her is because she refuses to bathe, that ended up becoming a fucking hour long argument that only ended when Aurelia gave her that pleading look of hers and convinced her to at least try it and see what happens.” Her Muse’s jaw clenched as they took a deep breath before they resumed, seemingly unaware of the laughter and awe filling the room. 

“Sanguinia, Empress bless that woman, all she needed was advice on how to approach her love and how to broach the topics of her curses to them, that was simple enough. Corva? She had the same issues, though instead of curses she wanted to know how to get more comfortable with physical contact. Hestia, another fairly simple one, she just needed advice on how to stop her love interest from running away every time they see her, preferably without traumatizing them.” The laughter grew greater still, many turning gazes of genuine respect to their Matriarchs lover as they took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm themself before they resumed.

“Aurelia…dear fuck…”The Muse paused for several moments, a thousand mile stare gracing their face as though they were reliving a particularly traumatic experience, their lips moving silently for a few moments longer before Fulgrim;s hand on their shoulder made them look up at her. 

“I think you need to spend some more time with her before she gets her lover…because I don’t think they’ll be leaving their bedroom till the next damn Golden Age starts once the Crusade is done…and bring a notebook…some of her ideas sounded very…interesting.” Fulgrim’s mouth fell into a silent gape of shock, her children joining her for several moments before the Muse seemed to try and shake themself from their stupor by focusing on another subject. 

“Juno, all we really needed was to try and work out how she could approach them and how they could schedule their dates, simple enough. Hathor was pretty much the same, though we also had to figure out how to make the one she wants notice her feelings, not the worst one though it was a challenge.” Here the Muse paused to take a breath, sighing softly for a moment, before they resumed, their eye twitching slightly as they spoke up again.

“Petra really just needs to be honest with her feelings, that’s really all I could offer for advice for her…that and to remember to take off her armor when she tries to do anything with them.” Fulgrim nodded, smiling slightly at the mental image of Petra, sans her armor, trying and failing to flirt with someone, it would be an amusing spectacle to see, hopefully she would get to witness it tonight.

“Ferrus, just needed a reminder that not everyone can endure the heat of a blast furnace like she can…or endure sparks from molten metal hitting them like she can…really she just needs to remember that the one she’s interested in is a lot more fragile than her.” Fulgrim nodded once more, her smile growing softer at the thought of her closest sister finally getting with someone, she would have to send her a gift…hmmm…maybe she could find a copy of her…’educational’ book on intercourse and send it to her, Ferrus could certainly use the material in it for ‘educational purposes’ for when things reached the bedroom…or maybe…

The Muse paused, registering the mischievous glint in their lovers eyes, and while they were tempted to try and quash whatever form of torment she was dreaming up for her sister, she would try and see if she should warn Ferrus later on, for now she had to continue to feed the gossip mill of the Empress’s Daughters as they continued.

“Freya, that was a basket case. First we had to work out that no, you cannot just walk up to someone, hand them a leash and collar and say you are dating now,” Fulgrim’s hand flew to her mouth to muffle her cackles, her daughters trying and failing to follow her example as her lover continued. 

“Then! Then we had to work out that no, you cannot growl at everyone that looks at them before you are even dating, nor can you leave hunting trophies outside their door as gifts, I can only hope that she did not leave some beasts head outside their door beforehand…though…given the look on her face. And don’t even get me started on her asking if it was okay for her to p-ut her scent on their clothes to mark them…I pity them so much.” The Muse sighed as they shook their head, visibly holding back on saying more on the matter as they shifted to another one of her sisters.

“Atlanta…was a surprise, all she really wanted was advice on how to plan out dates with them that don’t involve battle, and on what flowers she should give her Rose,” The incredulous looks they received was enough to make them offer a shrug in response as the Astartes and their Matriarch shared glances of shock and awe with one another. 

“Leona was…not as bad as I thought, really just has to work on working up the nerve to confess and not scaring the hell out of them…or stalking them…Alakhi was pretty simple, she just wanted to know what she should do to make them feel more comfortable around her and not like they had to meet some imaginary standards.” Fulgrim nodded to herself absently, that was about what she expected.

“The Twins…yeah that is a mess of trust issues, fixation, and who knows what else they decided to keep to themselves, the big thing was getting them to admit their feelings to themselves and then try and guide them away from whatever hairbrained plan they came up with to wrangle a confession out of their target…and yes that includes tapping their Vox, assassinating potential rivals,” Fulgrim’s eyes widened as she opened her mouth again, “drugging them to kidnap them, blackmailing potential rivals, framing their target to get them put under their care…the list goes on.” The Muse at last stopped with a tired sigh, taking a moment to catch their breath before resuming. 

“Magna, I’m going to be honest with you if it weren't for her daughters dragging her out of the library I think she would just keep using her warpcraft to spy on her love and not even try and confront them. Anxiety aside, I feel that she won’t really have any issues when she is finally able to come out of her shell…and stop scrying on them constantly…or stalking them with astral projection.” The Muse paused, once more taking a deep breath as they seemed to try and steel themself for what was to come, the slight shudder that wracked their frame as they announced the last name making all of those present gape in shock at them.

“Kassandra…where in the hell do I even…no…you know what, I’m not drunk enough to discuss that Warp Storm, wait till I have a few bottles in me and then try and get that out of me because that…that is something beyond me.” Fulgrim shared in the respect her daughters were directing towards her lover, especially as she saw them seem to collapse in on themself, sagging in exhaustion as they recalled exactly what they had to deal with to get her new sword.

With a smile on her face, Fulgrim walked forward and embraced her lover, chuckling as she felt them go limp and let their head fall against her body, her breasts resting atop their head as they mumbled into her abdomen.

“Your sisters…are exhausting, and not in the good way.” Fulgrim could no longer hold back her laughter at that remark, throwing back her head and laughing merrily at the way her lover sounded, her laughter stopping when she noticed the shuttles arriving as she reached down and lifted her lover up and into her arms. 

“Come on my love, let’s try and bury those bothersome memories with some happier ones.” The Phoenician said as she began to stride towards the shuttles, chuckling to herself once more at the mental images her lover’s words had crafted in her mind, she could already picture the looks that would cross her sisters faces as she-

“Oh, and Fulgrim.” The thoughts of the Matriarch paused as she looked at her lover out of the corner of her eye, mischievous violet eyes watching as her lover looked up at her with a mischievous look of their own, lips curled into a smile that made the Matriarch shudder in unease..

“If they find out that I told you all that information, from you or one of the Astartes, then you will have to make do with your own hand and toys for a month.” Fulgrim went still, her eyes snapping wide open as she gaped at her lover, her daughters having gone similarly still, Eidolon nearly tripping over her own feet as Bile froze in her own tirade against some of her kin, the Apothecaries lips beginning to twitch upwards as she processed what she had just heard.

“You-!” Fulgrim was cut off as her lover lifted up a hand and began to pat her head, a coy smile on their face as they leaned in such that their breath tickled her ear as she purred to her in a tone of satin and sin-

“But, if you can keep it a secret for the whole party, then you can do whatever you want with me tonight, I still have some stress to deal with afterall. What do you say, up for the challenge?” Fulgrim snapped her gaze down to her lover, violet eyes darkening as she unconsciously licked her lips, a hunger welling up inside of her as she looked at her Muse.

“Anything?” She asked in a husky tone, heart beginning to pound as she began to plan and scheme as her Muse chuckled before they leaned in once more, their tongue lightly caressing her ear as they answered with the word that cemented their fate. 

“Yes.” A low squeal slipped past their lips as Fulgrim shifted them just so that her hand was beginning to grope at them, the hunger in her eyes now an all consuming blackness as she licked her lips once more, a shudder of delight at the thoughts racing through her mind racking the Matriarch’s frame as she lifted her gaze to look over her children, a knife cut smile appearing on her face as violet eyes blazed like thunderbolts.

The gathered Astartes looked at one another, several silently vowing to work with their mother, if for no other reason than their own safety, while others, such as a silently cackling Florencia Bile, vowing to do all they could to make the coming party as exciting as they could for their Mother and their kin. 

And so it was that as the shuttle wound its way down to the planet below, the Muse leaned back their head and let out a low chuckle, delighting in the merry chaos that was sure to unfurl, and at the prospect of watching Fulgrim do all she can to earn her reward. 

‘This is going to be one hell of a party,’ They thought to themself as they closed their eyes and relaxed in their lover’s arms, eagerly awaiting planetfall and the beginning of a night full of merriment.

As the Shuttles wound their way down to the planet, a figure emerged as a stygian vessel arrived in silence, the figure swiftly moving aboard the vessel as it began to spirit them away from the fleet, unseen by any and all, the figure that had climbed aboard swiftly sitting their package down and placing it within a vault, the faint light of the ships interior lights alighting for but a brief moment upon a container layered in seals and wards before it was locked away.

Line Break

Silence hung heavy and loud in the halls, broken not by the footfalls of the robe clad figure that maneuvered through the darkness of the black stone halls, navigating not by physical sight but by memory and senses far keener than their ancient form would make apparent. 

With impossible ease they held with one hand a case of dark metal, engraved with rune and symbol of warding magics and barriers, and in the other they carried a staff of metal adorned with a golden eagle upon its top, the flames that normally blazed to illuminate the great bird of prey having faded to not even smoldering embers.

For how long they walked none could say, for in the darkness of the depths of this most antiquated and stygian of vaults, time seemed to hold fast its breath, field with both wariness and awe of the horrors sealed behind great walls of stone and doors of ancient and terrible might, yet even where time dared not to tread, the cloaked figure did.

Unhurried they strode down the halls, the chill that hung so heavy in the air doing not to impede them as they approached their destination, a great door of stygian metal, layered in sigils of warding and restraining, flanked on either side by guards clad in sable with skulls of ivory and lone optics of baleful blue, the twin figures did not to impede the robed figure as it lifted a hand and, with an errant gesture, bid the door to open.

And open it did, great slabs of metal layered over one another parting as mechanisms unseen activated at the command of the figure that now strode forth into the room, the darkness of which hung in the air as though it were the ocean itself, fit to swallow, fit to crush and devour the one that had dared to intrude upon its sanctum.

Coldness such that frost coated the room struck at the figure, though it did not to deter them as they approached the center of the room, whereupon a great monolith of onyx metal loomed, shackles of ivory metal holding it fast to the ground as though it were a beast in need of binding and not an inert piece of metal.

Or perhaps they were there to restrain a different beast.

With practiced ease the figure lifted the package into the air, powers ancient and mighty holding it aloft as the figure lifted their hand and began to tap at the unseen keypad upon the surface of the great monolith, the sequence of numbers and letters, of symbols of languages ancient and dead, taking but a handful of moments for a hand that moved with speed that it should not have possessed. 

The sequence completed, the figure stepped back as there came a silent pulse across the surface of the monolith as it silently slid open, parting such that a slot large enough for the container and that which was held within could be fitted, runes of even greater power glowed from within, these of burning gold that hummed with power mightier than even that which the ancient figure held.

The container rattled, that which was within attempting to flee from the power of that most ancient and terrible of foes, though no ground could it gain in its bid for flight, for the ancient figure seized the container with a lone hand and moved it within the space, slotting it such that the runes pressed against the container.

Faintly, a sound not unlike an agonized scream could be heard. 

With deft movements the ancient figure tapped upon the keypad once more, this time to seal the great vault, and to allow the runes of power to do their long work, they would bleed the object of its power, scorching and searing and maiming that which was held within till not remained of its great might and with ease it could be unmade.

As the robed figure began to depart the room, he thought to himself how the runes had been arranged, of the intent and power held within them, of the tranquil fury that had been upon the face of his ancient friend as they had carved them, the radiance of her power such that the room around her had nearly melted under its might as it was directed into the runes. 

‘I suppose the old saying is true then,’ the ancient figure thought to himself as he left the room, a rap of his staff upon the ground bidding the great doors to seal shut behind him as the figures of its guards blended back into the shadow as a wall of stone rose from the ground to further conceal the entrance to the cell. 

‘No greater force there is, than a mother shielding her young.’(1) The thought in his mind, and his mission complete for a time, the ancient lord began to wind his way through the antiquated chambers.

He would be ash in the wind before he allowed his old friends children, and his nieces, to be lost to the madness that was the 4 and their twisted designs, and so it was that as he wound his way through the halls and back to the surface, the one known as the Cursed Wanderer, began to plan his next moves in the Great Game.

Fin

We hope you all enjoyed this mess of a ficlet of ours, it is our first time delving into writing in the 40k setting, and our first time writing for this marvelous AU for that matter, so please let us know just how badly we screwed up in the comments. 

That said, stay safe and take care all.  

[lulzyrobot]

Casually just waiting for extraction...

I really fought through some burnout to finish this instead of keeping it in the sketch phase.

[amalgamasreal]

Warhammer 40k Tyranids worshipping Kirby as their God. - by baalbuddy

Source

[alex-leweird]

related to this post

[lelazyblitz]

THE CURRENT LINE UP

in this au:

Kinger takes a protective role for Pomni, since shes new

Jax is a bit arrogant, but thats cause of the horrors hes seen. But hes a tad bit more supportive

Ragatha is the same, but shes a medic now :D

And pomni is scared to enter the battlefield alone

[falloutbart]

Modern AU, they like hanging out in Horus’ bakery. 

Horus - Owner of the bakery. Rumor said he was the local mafia leader at his younger age, but it never gets proven.

Guilliman - Manager of a massive agricultural enterprise, still enjoying farming in person.

Perturabo - Freelance artist, with thirteen different master's degrees, still finds himself hard to finish a commission without an argument.

Dorn - Successful interior designer, people pay billion for his work, but sometimes he do it for free. Roommate of Perturabo because his brother can't pay runt by himself.

Leman - Forest keeper, keep wolflings as his pet under his bed, his clothes, and everything he owned.

Magnus - Professor of a famous college, didn't have his own house, living on campus, enjoying divination, healing crystal and dreamcatcher.

Lion -  Writer, Guilliman is his landlord, has published a series of novels called Son of Forrest, and some collections of poems.

[autistic-pebbles-au]

Brain rot break aight back to the job

[sculptorofcrimson]

Thread/Soulmate Warhammer AU

Not really a soulmate AU, but more of "threads of fate" au.

~~~~

Ra’s thread is a thin, fragile thing. The Emperor had been loath to break it, had hesitated, His claws hovering over the delicate braid. He had held it, as delicate as the umbilical cord of a newborn, and grieved as He felt what He had to do. In the end He had wrapped it in gossamer like the finest of silk, and woven it, with infinite care, into His own. 

When Drach'nyen thrust itself in, it had severed both threads.

~

Valdor’s thread is crimson. The Emperor had cut off at his wrist, with the only remnants wrapped around his forearm like a chain. The ends still twitch and tangle, as if waiting for a man he had lost before they even met. The Emperor took the frayed threads of the severed rope, and bound it to Him. 

Now it wraps around Valdor’s throat like a leash. (Or a noose.)

Valdor does not mind. 

(Once, only once, in mere moments before Constantin lowered the blade, he had seen the flash of recognition. The sudden unknotting of a thread of fate both had assumed severed so long ago. 

And then the mercy blow. A horrible moment of terrible pity etched across his victim’s pain-stricken face, and the sadness in those tormented eyes not for himself but for Valdor. 

And, finally, oblivion. )

(He never did know the exact moment when his thread broke.)

~

Sanguinius’ thread is black. He can see it, twisting there, stretching onwards, inked across the sands of time. When he had met Horus, the Angel had stalled, a smile still stretched across his face, noting down the way his thread had wrapped itself lazily around Horus’ arms. Their threads had tumbled and tangled over one another, so deeply intertwined it was impossible to remove without severing one. 

Horus did not seem to see a thing amiss. 

~

Lorgar, his thread brilliant red, wrapped around the Emperor’s chest. The way he had screamed at the fury in His eyes when He had reached up and tore the thread out of His breast, snapping the thin thing in half beneath His claws. The way he had cursed Him, the remnants of the thread pooling around him like shed snakeskin, the scent of Monarchia’s ashes curdling upon his tongue.

~

Alpharius and Omegon’s threads, a single, thick cord that split in half, bobbing and weaving until neither could tell who was whose. It just seems to love knots, looping around itself, around others, dragging others together without abandon. 

~

Vulkan’s thread, thick and dark and braided, glowing softly with a gentle warmth. It trails itself around his chest, wrapping itself around all near and wide, spreading like a kind coat of flame. It is tender, such a lovely thing. It has chipped, and knotted, and frayed over the eons, but it braids on, thick and resolute. Ashes are embedded in its strings now, but their warmth is still there, just buried under the charcoal. 

~

Fulgrim’s thread was made of silk. A beautiful, perfect, fragile thing. It had bound itself around his hands, around Ferrus’ silver hands and his neck. The delicate silk, so pale against the silver. And how pitifully it had shattered, without a cry, without a song, only with the slithering of sick silk as he had snapped it when the Laerblade took Ferrus’ head. 

~

Ferrus’ thread was a chain. It wrapped around his neck and hands. It had pooled itself slowly around Fulgrim, like a lazy snake, braiding itself together into intricate knots with his silk. When Fulgrim took his head from his shoulders, the links had shattered. 

~

Horus’ thread, white and black. It tied itself so languishly over one of his forearms. If only he had known. If only he had seen. If only he had felt the thread tightening, tugging, unraveling as he had sped his way down a path, and never glanced back upon the road he had trodden. When it finally spun itself out of silk, it tied together in one, final blasphemy of angel feathers. Both tips of their threads had been charred together, one longer than the other.

It was Horus that undid the knot. 

He did not even see it unravel when he cut the life out of his brother. 

~

Malcador’s thread. Grey, seemingly thin, but with an impossible, resolute strength. There it was, underpinning the Emperor's thread like a shadow, together even in death. How brightly it had burned, like candlewick, as he sat upon the Throne, eyes bulging, nerves burning, feeling the cells in his body die one by one. It had charred itself to cinders, and then to ash, and finally dust, before his lord made it back home.

~

And finally, the Emperor's thread. It wrapped around Himself, and only Himself, but it branched off like the leaves of Yggdrasil. It curled itself into the veins of His Custodes, it dragged together the binds of His Primarchs, it curled together like one with Malcador. Some branches were frayed, their ends charred, some had curled up into a solitary knot that no longer held another, some burnt like living, writhing sunlight caught in flesh, but some were warm. Some still dreamt, lazily winding through the fog, one out of thousands. They would bind themselves not to men, or to women, but to entire worlds, to every last beating heart upon the land. It was not a leash, or a noose, or a chain this time, it was merely a bridge, the last heart of a dead god who had once gazed upon His people. And smiled.

[cotl40k]

COTL 40K lore (in short)

Our protagonist, The Lamb, is the only survivor of their village, that got destroyed by cultists who worship Khorne, the god of war and violence. Unfortunately, the cultists found and sacrificed them in the name of their god, but the lamb, instead of finding themselves in the comforting emptiness of death, they appeared in the Immaterium, a place where souls await to reincarnate and demons exist in chaos. There they met Narinder, a prince of Slaanesh, who promised them resurrection and a powerful new form, but at a price: slaying the four princes of Chaos - Leshy (of Tzeentch), Heket (of Slaanesh), Kallamar (of Nurgle) and Shamura (of Khorne).

This deal was accepted by Lamb, who decided to use their new life and new power to start over not for revenge, but to protect the innocents by fighting the cultists of chaos and their leaders. But will the Lamb stay true to their promise?

[wolf-tail]

Hear me out: Clonegrim x Trazyn Phantom of the Opera AU where Clonegrim is Christine and Trazyn is Erik

[bispectral-poltergayst]

you ever just think up a spontaneous lore detail and collapse from the sheer ‘HOLY FUCK THIS WOULD BE SO COOL’ of it or does that only happen to me

[elyaequestus]

has anyone looked at a specific francise and thought i like exactly three things about this universe and the rest i disagree with from the bottom of my soul and i am going to kitbash an alterative setting so that my favorite characters will finally have a chance for happiness and that i am finally able to put my beloved ocs in the same universe as my favorite characters and then accidentally started to write a fanfiction to realize that super specific idea with that super specific world and then suddenly you have written about 100 000 words while only 2 people have read some of it? Yeah. That is what I have been doing since August. Anyhow, is anyone else game for romantasy, noble dark, Warhammer 40k AU set in an middleval setting which focuses on my favorite vamperic bois (but is mostly an excuse to write my paladin falling head over heels with Mephiston resulting in a mutal crisis & resolution for both of them)

[lulzyrobot]

Been thinking about Culexus Assassin Sabine again...

[alex-leweird]

Quick and dumb doodle of the fave idol

[lelazyblitz]

A sketch for that one person who wanted to see him

Dreadnaught Kinger

[1silentsiren1]

Zahndrekh was, so Obyron is now) I read "Severed" And am touched. Necrons are such buns here. Zahndrekh is literally a child at the age of 65 million years)