#fuck erebus

[rulernogard156]

Also, here is another older piece for your patience. My favourite m4m gay warhammer couple (sorry, Trazyn and Orikan)

[schizohybrid]

Fuck Erebus

[brox-not-a-badger]

What the fyck why have I been obsessed with Erebus for the past couple of months

Anyways Erebus and Lucius are perfect for each other because they’re both equally horrible and both do horrible things and would probably gladly make out sloppy style.

[sehhokorthebroken]

Obligatory "Fuck Erebus"

[ilisteria]

“You are destined for things much greater than a mere cupbearer of the Warmaster, little one. There are plans for you, promises of status greater than mere serf or concubine,-”

I assume that you implied here that the reader has some sort of concubine adjacent role when they’re serving Horus. But I also find the idea that the reader isn’t in any kind of sexual relationship with Horus, and instead this is just Erebus’s version of a freudian slip, to be very funny. Like the guy got too excited and mentioned his intentions with you far too soon.

“Hello spouse- I mean spouse- I mean spouse-I mean spou- I mean… serf.”

Oh hey I didn't expect anyone to actually comment anything about the piece lmao

So the whole cupbearer/wife/personal serf thing is supposed to be a reference to some of the Horus x reader fanfics by people like moodymisty and I didn't think of how it would come across when read without that context.

The Freudian Slip interpretation is funnier though - I'd imagine at a later point the reader would be sitting in his lap post-Isstvan V and asking him what in the world he meant by that quote, and he'd raise an eyebrow and go "You weren't fucking the Warmaster?" in genuine confusion.

"No? He only thought of me an obedient servant, no more and no less."

"I believe I have been lied to..."

"So that entire incident with the room was an elaborate courting scheme?"

"...I suppose so, but it was not deception when I promised a greater fate, little one."

"And is the fucking me part necessary to the plan?"

"It was an...adjacent benefit."

"Does that mean you don't love me? :("

Cue intense sighing from Erebus

[supercomputer-lizard]

Which jackass was worse poll

Both the Deceiver and Erebus are shitheads that ruined the galaxy

[idkwhattoputhere26]

[hug-kiss-marry-kill]

[awwsha]

maaaan, fuck erebus

[mezzy-1]

If I were in a room with Erebus, Typhus, Leandros, and Vect I would unload the bolter into the last 3 and spend the rest of the time beating Erebus' head in with the empty mag. FUCK EREBUS

Ok I'm awnsering this cuz funny:

My argument is

- Kor Phaeron (while lorgar is off claiming the last city on his homeworld and before they meet the legion)

- Erebus (in his fucking crib)

These two alone would prevent the heresy as even if lorgar still has to face the burning of monarchia he won't have those two whispering in his ear, this would mean that lorgar would abandon his faith while remaining loyal (as that was almost the timeline he went down except due to kor phaeron and erebus) and without lorgar turning traitor the Chaos gods couldn't get their grip on horus, in fact horus never gets struck down on the moon of Davon or even goes there as that was all due to erebus, this means that magnus wouldn't need to warn the emperah and as such wouldn't break the psychic Ward's around Terra.

The 2nd two are

- Luther (after his banishing to caliban but before he turns traitor)

- The Deamon Blade of the Laer (the one fulgrim carried that corrupted him, preferably this is done right before fulgrim enters the Laer temple)

[froggerland]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO 1ST LIEUTENANT EDWARD LITTLE!!

Having a little party with the other lieutenants and Crozier (left to right: Hodgeson, Irving, Le Vesconte, Ned, Crozier, Gore and Fairholme), Winter 1846 (before everything went downhill)

[brox-not-a-badger]

I should not be proud of myself

I’m writing the Erebus Gets Pegged fic because I hate him so viscerally that I want to be balls-deep inside him.

[ilisteria]

Quick Erebus x GN Reader piece (709 words)

I don't actually like him but there's a surge in fans of him and I don't feel confident about dipping my toes into writing for a Primarch yet, so I may as well debut with Kharn's our not-so-friendly neighborhood punching bag douchebag.

--------------------

Summary: You are a serf on one of the Sons of Horus ships and you've caught Erebus' eye. He has you trapped in a dark room to sell some Chaos propaganda to you. Set before the Heresy.

Warnings- Slightly suggestive towards the end but not really; manipulation through religion. It's Erebus, what can I say?

--------------------

Impenetrable dark and the hum of ventilation shafts, chilled air that lightly bites at the skin leaving trails of raised hairs - your eyes did not adjust to the false-night of the lightless chamber, as though your sight had been stolen away by some blind daemon.

You shake your head upon this thought, the brush of your hair against your neck only sending more shivers down your spine, each strand feeling too similar to the soft raking of nails on your neck. “Dogma,” You whisper beneath your breath. “There are no such things as daemons.”

“Is that so?”

You freeze upon those words, their velvety syllables ringing hollowly in your ears like false promises in the wind. Your heart drums loudly in your chest, each beat against your rib cage feeling as though they are being wrung from your body through some mysterious force, and the intruder only chuckles, barely audible over the ambient noise of the ship.

“Your heart does not believe your own words. Your soul, too, knows better than to parrot the drivel of the so-called Imperial Truth.�� 

Large hands that dwarf your shoulders would come down to rest atop them, cold ceramite heavy on your fragile form like a thick sheet of ice over water. You could almost see the sly grin upon his face, the eyes of your soul piercing through the veil where your mortal ones were found lacking. 

He continues, his voice remaining ever steady as a preacher of the Imperial Truth did, yet in the rumbling of his chest and the slight tightening of his grip are the traces of a mad fanaticism, almost a perversion that hinted at an abyss beneath the placid exterior. 

“You see it as well, do you not? The eyes in the dark, the whispers that scream in a thousand voices - but only when you dream.”

“N-no, I know nothing, I see nothing-”

“You lie,” He hisses, but it is more in amused mocking than festering rage. “I can smell the fear in you, little one. But that is no matter, for your fear speaks more truthfully than your tongue. That is good, for I know now that you may yet be saved.”

It feels as though the room has become several degrees colder, your plain serf’s uniform doing little to stave off a chill that could be felt in the soul. There are eyes on you, more eyes than simply those of the intruder, and they rake over your body and soul as they titter restlessly within the void between the known and unknown.

There were daemons out there, watching and waiting for their prey or perhaps their lord, which possibility it was indiscernible to you over your fear.

The intruder chuckles again, the swell of each vowel of his laugh becoming more disjointed as though a second voice shares his throat and pulls the sounds from his body in a way that seems to elicit sensations of religious ecstasy. 

"You are destined for things much greater than a mere cupbearer of the Warmaster, little one. There are plans for you, promises of status greater than mere serf or concubine, more power and wealth than you could’ve dreamed of, sensations that will dwarf the finest drug or drink in the Imperium…but He has blinded you to your true purpose.”

His grip tightens again, your body jerking forwards in response, but he does not loosen his grip nor utter apologies, and you could not break the grip of an Astartes. There is a silent order in the way the eyes surrounding you bore into you - to remain in place, to remain silent, and to open your heart to a force far greater than you could ever hope to fathom - in your current state. 

Erebus was its prophet, and you a disillusioned disciple of the Anathema’s sect.

“His truth is little more than shackles to bind the inherent human desire for gods. He denies us of our glory, our eternity, our evolution, and our pleasures.

“I can teach you to free yourself, to claim your birthright and see for yourself the ways of the true gods. You need only to have a little...faith in my methods. 

“Tell me then, little one, are you prepared to be enlightened?”

[bethanythebogwitch]

Oh you better believe we have heresy tomorrow

posting this on its own too

[the--last-great-american-dynasty]

OATHBOUND SPOILERS

I'M NOT KIDDING. I NEED TO GET OUT MY THOUGHTS SO THIS IS SERIOUS SPOILER TERRITORY. READ WITH CAUTION.

yeah, so Oathbound was... insane. and absolutely fucking incredible. Tracy somehow managed to exceed my very high expectations and left me wanting for the fourth book as quick as possible.

for one. literally the prologue made me cry. when Bree woke up without anyone left in her mind??? i was just devastated. i genuinely can't think of a much worse fate than to suddenly just lose the memory of the people you love.

and then suddenly we get a William pov. guys i SCREAMED when I saw we were getting that. William is legitimately one of my favorite characters and a whole fucking pov from him??? i could not have asked for more. i do wish we got more of his pov towards the end, but like, this book is already 640 pages so i get it. him and Lark are such a duo too. they spent basically this entire book together and i loved the conflict between them but also the very clear attraction. "and if Larkin Douglas happens to be the most alluring cambion i've ever met, well, that might just be due to our proximity." William. babe. and when Lark called William sweetheart??? i LOST it.

the Mariah pov took me utterly off guard. i could never have guessed we'd get to see her side but i LOVED it. her and Valec's relationship is the sweetest. Valec clearly cares for her so much and their family is just really sweet in general. i'm still so nervous for Alice and so so sad that she still isn't awake. that's a death that would hurt me. but Mariah honestly pulled through in so many ways this book and it was so good to see more of her. also my girl is POWERFUL. i knew when she put the heart on that some shit would go down, but DAMN. my girl held back Mikael himself. fucking POWERHOUSE.

i wasn't super shocked at the Natasia pov but it was so interesting. it was very interesting to see her as a mother above all else and how much love and guilt she feels towards Sel. she was also... not the personality i was expecting? i guess i thought she'd be more like Sel? i'm not really sure tbh. but i was just WAITING for her to find out that Bree was the real Scion of Arthur and it did not disappoint. i really want her and Faye's relationship to be expanded on. and, of course, more of her with Erebus and Sel.

speaking of Sel... well, i'm actually gonna wait till the end for him

Nick Davis again proved himself to be literally one of the best characters. dude... he's just so good. like he's so smart and so protective and just so so kind and loving the entire time. he's also an impulsive idiot with a savior complex, but it's neither here nor there. i had no idea what his game was for the curia and i fear he played everyone. i was also SO glad William and Lark both stepped up to join him. but my boy is just so impulsive and the thing with the Morgaines was, uh, not his best move, i gotta say. also his power. my god, he is immensely powerful. and it's so interesting to watch it play out. His ability to literally unwind aether is, like, insane. it's so interesting that Lancelot and Arthur had their own oath built in, binding Nick and Bree together even more. speaking of, i had thoroughly missed him and Bree's relationship in Bloodmarked and this book did NOT disappoint. when I realized that Bree and Zoe, Mariah, and Nick were all going to end up at Penumbra, I was on the edge of my fucking seat. i immediately knew that he was the other thief and when he finally realized it was Bree i almost cried. especially because he just immediately understood her loss. Erebus had held over Bree's head the threat that people would be angry that she'd forgotten them, but Nick just understood immediately. and he was just so good to her. the playing at fiancés thing was hilarious and Tracy gave us the one bed trope!!! one of my favorites!!!! the tension between then was so thick and i was just waiting for it to come to a head. and my god did it not disappoint. this definitely ended up being the steamiest of her books (nothing explicit but still steamy). then, of course, you can't really not mention the communions and Nick's confessions. his unending love for Bree is just so beautiful. he even knew about Bree and Sel for the most part and just still was never angry at her. the fucking shadow crown piece in his chest was dumb as hell, but he did still looking out for Bree and I just can't fault my guy for that.

Bree... my beautiful, powerful Bree. so much of her story is just so tragic but my girl just kept pulling through. i think it was Valec that said that so many people with fractured souls are led astray from their path, and yet Bree continued on. she continued to fight for the people she loved, even when she didn't remember them. she is so good and lovely and such a character. also i LOVED her with the twins. we obviously saw a lot more of Zoe than Elijah, but i really loved their relationship development. Bree and Zoe's relationship was so sweet and they cared so much for each other. (also Zoe is a trans femme cambion??? like slay???) their humanity really shown through above all else, and Zoe's care for Bree and the rootcrafters was so sweet. i really hope we see them again in the next book. i'm not ready to let them go. and Bree, in the words of Valec, is a fucking powerhouse. when she first made that barrier around her with Erebus, i knew we were entering a different level of power. she leveled up so hard. it was incredible watching gain power and when she fucking broke down Erebus' ward??? incredible. not to mention literally fucking chaining Daeza, like damn. she had some intense character development in this book and really came into herself. and as much as the loss of memory hurt me... i also know that Bree developed so much because of it. watching her just not know anyone was so painful for me though. speaking of, her reunion with her dad? i literally burst into tears. honestly, her reaction made me really miss my dad (i haven't seen him in a couple months). also her continued relationship with the rootcrafters was also incredibly important to me and i'm so glad that they had such a heavy play in this. they are also clearly a very important part of this story and i'm so glad that this continues to be acknowledged and used. i also did not see souls coming into play with this. the shattering of her soul, Valec's less than pleasant reaction, the scar tissue, the missing piece... god, there was just so many layers.

the end of this book was intense. like super duper intense. the confrontation with Erebus. the end of their bargain. and their entrapment of the fucking Shadow King (shout out to my girl Mariah, again pulling through). Bree basically forcibly getting back her missing piece of soul and the memories returning. Erebus crawling away like a baby. dude got fucked up.

and this, of course, brings me to Sel. oh, my boy, i mourn for him so much. i miss the character we had in Bloodmarked with ever inch of my being. this is not how i thought we would see his character go. i just assumed that we'd get him back from his demonia and god. his character was so interesting but so painful because of the loss of the Sel we know and love. and we just... never got him back. when i saw the line "...because Selwyn Kane is dead" i honestly almost had a mental breakdown. i sobbed so hard and couldn't believe it... and then, of course, he wasn't dead. but the Shadow King's son. and now the heir of Bree's bloodmark.... damnnnnn, i did not see that coming at all. granted, i did have my suspicions about the relationship between Erebus and Natasia. i kinda figured it was more. but i guess i never expected for that to mean that Sel was his son. which means that Sel is has much more demon blood than anyone expected. which changes so much. god.

i haven't given up on him. nor have i given up on the Sel-Bree-Nick relationship. there were still hints throughout, of Sel and Nick's relationship, of Bree and Sel's. i really want to have faith that the Sel we knew can return. but i honestly fear that we've lost him completely now because of his claim on the shadow crown.

this book was everything i could have wanted and more. i laughed and cried and was literally so stressed out for so much of it but i'm 100% going to be rereading it again soon to absorb more of it. and Tracy... not to like pressure you, but PLEASE, i am BEGGING for the fourth book to come out quickly. i'm not sure i'll survive another two years without more answers.

⚔️💙💜❤️⚔️

[i-am-countess-olivia]

Shortly after midnight on the 13th March, 1842, HMS Erebus and HMS Terror collided just north of the Antarctic Circle.

I wrote something in memory of that night, and of the two bomb vessels who are forever inextricably linked. Below the cut and on AO3.

THE MEANS

If I could speak to the men who come down each summer to prod at what remains of me I would ask but one question:

Erebus. Have you seen her? Have you seen my girl?

I have no means for such an address.

Here I sit, cold and broken. It is nothing new but for the duration of my stay. I was wrecked off the Portuguese coast back in 28. Trapped in ice at Repulse Bay in 36, I was pressed and squeezed until I toppled. George Back barely got me home, his hands trembling at my helm. He never sailed again. Meanwhile I, rested and refitted, was soon ready for sea.

But why am I telling you this, my girl? You know all about those years before we met. Sat side by side in our many harbours, I bored you with my tales until your masts groaned.

"Terror, not that icy yarn again.”

I only wanted to remind you: we are imminently fixable things. But you knew that, Erebus, didn't you, after our midnight kiss among the bergs?

Do you recall the day we sailed together for the first time, from Chatham for the farthest south? Cheering crowds to see us off, freshly woven sails, the black iron plate gleaming at our fores. New captains on our quarterdecks — we compared them like ladies do rings.

“What’s your one called?”

“James. Handsome. Yours?”

“Francis. Quiet.”

We listened to the nervous rap of their boot soles against our boards, the quick drum of their tiny warm hearts as they saw us off.

Soon you were dashing ahead. “Keep up,” you cried, laughing.

"Wait," I huffed. "Wait for me."

I was always behind. I wanted to beg Francis to chase you down, to feel the spit and foam of your wake splash against my bow.

I had no means to ask. It is the men who speak to us. They talk with tug and round and tack and heave. Go this way. Go that way. All we can do is pass the message back from the wind and sea. Yes. No. Maybe, if you tack hard, if you add more sail.

We are vessels, after all. We convey.

At times, Francis spoke to me in human words. Or perhaps he prayed.

And now here I sit, where he left me to sink.

Season after season shadows of men’s boats would pass over my resting place, mere thirteen fathoms deep. Light coruscating above, then fading as the ice set in. Then, ten summers ago, men came diving down like curious fish. I understood — understand — nothing of their delicate probings. They extract boots, toothbrushes, plates from my broken decks. What do you want? What are you looking for? Raise me up. Even if you must haul me, take me back to her.

Are you looking for them? They’re not here. They left me. He left me, and took Erebus instead.

Waiting, waiting. Do you recall, my girl, our midnight kiss among the bergs? Of course you do.

"Get off me," you howled as the breakers threw me up, almost over you, and our rigging tangled, became one. "My bowsprit, Terror, are you mad?"

I could do nothing, tossed about like a toy boat in a child's hand.

Then I got free and Francis had me storm ahead, to give you some small chance in the narrow channel made from soaring walls of ice. You vanished from my sight.

We rounded to and waited. In the dark, he and I together, burning our blue light. The enormity of Francis' fear strained against my beams. Terror, terror. As large as me.

His poor little heart. How he prayed. How we both did.

Your own light emerged. All well, all safe. James sailed you out, backwards, through the narrow path.

Afterwards, I thought you might sulk at me. Or complain about your disheveled state. But all you could prattle about, as we pushed our way north towards Cape Horn, was James.

"Oh Terror. You should have seen him. So brave. So indefatigable."

I sailed behind you, silent. You were in love. You weren't the only one.

At Cape Louis, we were emptied of our weary crews. On shore, it was Francis you watched: his eyes, his hand on James.

"Do you suppose he—" you began.

I watched you instead: battered and beautiful, a wounded black swan in the calm, shimmering bay.

"I don't know," I said. But I did, I did.

What James was to him, you were to me. I could have told you then, in that warm and sparkling harbour. I had the means. And yet.

Less than two years after coming home we were off again, together. With Francis and without James.

"I don't like my new one," you griped like a disappointed child at Christmas. "All he does is talk and eat."

I didn't know what to say. By then, I couldn't conceive being without you.

This time we went north, to my old ground of exertion. I trailed you wearily up to Baffin Bay, knowing what that labyrinth held in store for us. At least I thought I did.

Then came 47. How you suffered in the ice, a lady being too tightly laced into her corset. Though I ached the same, I sought to comfort you: we'll wait it out, Erebus. We've been here before, in this frozen press.

You'll see, we need only wait.

Months went by. You grew quiet. In the eternal night of winter, under the canopy they enclosed you in, I could hear you weep for James’ steady heart and hands.

Inside me, curled up in his berth, Francis wept for him too.

Daylight came again. In our bellies, one by one, tiny warm heart were going out. You said it was the only time you ever felt like a mother to them. Our hulls their only warmth and comfort.

When Francis had the last of them march out — oh, but here I must confess, Erebus. I was happy. No more death. Just us two, alone, trading tales.

So happy I was I failed to tell you that the icy corset had at last broken my ribs. Leads opened up some months later and I felt the shivering sensation of water trickling in.

When Francis came back, or what was left of him, he saw — and set his eyes on you.

We howled and begged.

Francis, are you mad?

Don't leave her. She will sink.

Don't take her. She's not yours to take.

What did he hear? Groan and croak, rope and timber, nothing more.

Perhaps he got you home. Perhaps he left you to sit in a dry dock in Portsmouth, half repaired and bored senseless, whilst he removed to the country to drink tea with James for the rest of their long days.

Well, here it is. I know not what else to say to you, my girl. Summer is coming to an end. The curious fish have gone away with their china and their toothbrushes, the ice will close over me again soon.

No matter. I'll sleep here for a little longer. I'll dream of you laughing:

"That time in the south, Terror. Do you recall? You froze over so quickly fish stuck to your hull. They scraped them off and fed them to the cat."

I'll dream and I'll wait. Perhaps by next summer, if I keep talking to myself, I will have found a way to ask.

END

----

Location of the wrecks of HMS Terror and HMS Erebus, Terror Bay and Wilmot and Crampton Bay respectively.