#pre-heresy OC

[yuzu-kiku]

(FC: Angell from Path to Nowhere; art by rythron4)

Name: Ruozhen "Rozen" Baili

Fulgrim's first wife. Her clan was part of the nomadic tribes that made its home in Chemos' rundown factory-cities, one more agreeable to the coming changes in leadership. In exchange for a position of power in Fulgrim's new empire, they helped him to rebuild their territory into a city under his leadership. To ensure their alliance, they also gave the clan leader's daughter to Fulgrim as his wife in a political marriage- the first of many.

Rozen was not happy. She had not intended to marry, wanting to carve out her own path in life. As such, she treated her new husband coldly, bitter about the life she was forced into. In truth, she didn't hate Fulgrim; she respected him greatly for what he was trying to accomplish, but she simply could not bring herself to be affectionate with the man that her family forced her to marry.

She refused to be treated as some sort of trophy and requested to take on some of his work in rebuilding the city and factories. Her intellect and talent for commerce made her respected in the political sphere, as well as by Fulgrim himself. They settled into a relationship akin to business partners during their first year together.

Their relationship deepened as they inevitably spent time with each other. While Rozen was never able to admit it, her respect for her husband had turned into affection. While Fulgrim had never pushed for the same kind of love that a married couple shared, he still treated her well. She slowly opened her heart to him- though not verbally, as her pride didn't allow for admitting it outright.

Their time, however, was cut short. Only five years into their marriage, she fell sick: a hereditary disease, for which there was not yet a cure. Her traditional and superstitious family claimed it was a curse, for she hadn't borne Fulgrim's children during their marriage; it would be something spoken of with shame until it was revealed that Primarchs were unable to have children in the first place.

Before Rozen passed away, she would confess to Fulgrim that she regretted not being able to see him fulfill his dream of a better, united Chemos. She may not have said outright that she loved him, but she knew he would understand the meaning behind her words regardless.

The Baili name is still prominent in Chemos as nobility. While the clan is far removed from their roots, they would keep certain traditions of their culture, encouraged by Fulgrim as Chemos entered its cultural revolution.

Fun Facts:

Rozen was taught how to play the zither as part of her education growing up. At first, she played as a form of relaxation, but as her affection for Fulgrim grew deeper, she began to play for the both of them. It would be revealed after her death that one of her songs was a sort of lullaby that she composed to help her husband rest, when he needed it. Whether or not Fulgrim knew of her intentions, she did not know.

She has confided in Fulgrim that if she'd been born in the Chemos that he envisioned, she would have wanted to be the head of her own merchant group and establish a name for herself throughout the world.

She renamed herself "Rozen" for the Executives of Chemos, as they did not respect the nomadic tribes and looked down on her for having a name different than the norm. When Fulgrim asked why she did not insist they respect her by learning how to say her name, she scoffed and told him "the way they pronounce my name is a desecration. I would rather they keep it off their tongues."

[megsdoodletag]

Your version of Mortarion is literally everything to me I love him so much I want to kiss him so bad he's so pretty I love him I love him

ok so the man immediately made good on his promise in the last post and struck me with Some Kind of Plague over the weekend.

however. that will not stop me.

[darkmodechaoticlight]

Imagine getting murked by a barbie pink marine with stars on their armor

I was designing my lost legions, Left being of the 11th Legion, The Black Thorns, my all female legion and pinkie mcgee is of my 2nd Legion, the Emperors Grace.

[taryn40k]

SOME people are privately excited to have a confessor onboard! :D They are measuring one another on their favorite field : faith.

The level of fervor in the room is starting to get hazardous!

[the-perfect-entropy]

Ardent Serpents - Forgotten Millennial

"They strike swift and true leaving no room for their enemies to recover or realize they have been set upon. Their art is furious and deadly and so I name them as such." - The Phoenician

Chapter Structure:

Hadrah (Lord Commander) - Xurok Malek

Anusiya (Consuls) - Javid Akemè, Aphra Safavi, Enayat Mahdavi, Adrian Malek, Negin Abdi

Spahbad (Equerries) - Ergo Reid, Samira Pakdel, Akhtar Sehat, Gohar Yekta

Immortalis (Chosen Astartes) - 250 Astartes acting as the prominent veteran and primary fighting force for the 10th Millennial.

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

@moociaoafterdark

That is essentially also my OC Lilith, expect her mom's not dead and she's Sanguinius' offspring. Poor bastard was probably internally freaking out over the fact Lilith inherited his wings

I have the horrible mental image of the Emperor holding a sandal and chasing after one of his sons after finding out they had a kid yelling "Why aren't you sterile!?" and the poor primarch on the receiving end just sobbing and running away yelling "I don't know!" It's so fucking dumb but I just had to share it

[deleteddewewted]

I don't know if this might be an idea for you, but...

I'm still getting to know the Warhammer universe in depth, but I started a draft a while ago. It was supposed to be an oneshot, but it became huge and I ended up putting it aside because I lacked creativity.

But anyway : I had started that the emperor wasn't such an idiot, he sort of had some feelings for his children (not looking at them as tools) and in order for humanity to prevail he sort of goes from world to world looking for political alliances (so he marries his son and takes a planet for himself). Horus would fall into chaos because the one chosen him, in the vision of a shaman, she was the future with Guilliman after the fall of the emperor and also the OC had an enormous love for Guilliman (a beautiful feeling), but Roboute had a relationship with Yvraine, even if the emperor didn't approve.

The OC would be a witch/wizard (I don't know if she fits in this universe without being killed for heresy, or if they'll let it go because... script 😬 )

I'm still figuring out how to develop it or whether to delete it and start another way, what do you think?

It's a lot of information, you can ignore it 🙃

Sorry for the mistakes, English is not my language .

Preventing Destiny

Horus x Fem! Reader

A/n: This is such a good idea! I hope you post it someday. This inspired something in me and now i have to make a series similar your idea anon. Consider this part 1 out of 2 or 3 parts.

MDNI

W: NSFW, Fluff, Angst, Jealousy, Baby Trapping, Abandonment, Pre-Heresy Horus, Fem Reader, Insecurities, Zero accommodation

If you want to buy me a Ko-fi

Love was such a finicky thing. It drove mortal men to madness, created wars in the battle of ideals, made orphans out of children, and made men into beasts. Horus watched as their crusade brought great benefit to the Imperium, one by one uniting the human colonies under the same flag and set of ideals Horus' father sought to make true. But war was not the only thing that united them all, no, unions and treaties did as well. His father bestowed upon him an offer he couldn't reject. Marriage in holy union over sought by the Emperor himself. His father told him of his adventures into the stars, how in his own search he had found an idealic planet with idealic people. That he had found a woman worthy of his son and his glory. Horus' ego grew as he awaited the day he would be introduced to you.

You met on your home planet. Your parents had agreed to follow the lead of the Emperor as long as he allowed them to continue to rule with his guidance. This was agreed upon but with a condition that left your parents speechless. The man adorned in golden armor mentioned a son of his, one that will one day become his heir to all that he had made. He wanted you to wed, to show that there is no ill will between your planet and the greater Imperium. Your parents eagerly waited with bated breath for your response, and when you agreed, the Emperor smiled down at you and promised you that this would bring great fortune to everyone. You met Horus not a day later. He was brought to your chambers and he had the opportunity to introduce himself to you. His hair was short and he had a faint stuble growing in. He looked rugged and handsome all the same and it lit a flame in your chest that you wished would persist.

Horus on the other hand was smitten even before meeting you. His father had described you after he insisted on knowing who his wife would be. His father described you as being a normal baseline, with nothing of importance other than your ancestry and the planet you bring with you, but Horus wanted more. He wanted details about your features, the way your voice sounded, he wanted to know if you were as eager as him to marry and to meet. He was like a child shaking in anticipation. He needed to know who you were as you would one day be his and he only yours. He begged his father to allow you both to meet on your planet as you make you more comfortable. Meeting in your chambers allowed him to truly grasp who you were as a person. You had a love for all things relating to your people, you adored your parents and you were educated in the law. You cared to learn more about the Imperium to better fulfill your duties as his wife.

"There's no need to push yourself so much, my wife." He had grabbed your hand in his, yours being dwarfed by his, and pressed the back of it to his lips in a chaste kiss.

"I will ensure you to date with everything but you do not need to worry about it. You will have greater things to do when it comes our Legion and our sons."

"Our sons?" You questioned, brow raised as you looked at the man before you.

"Yes, our sons. My Legion awaits for their mother. And if you will allow it, our own sons and daughters.” He had placed a kiss on your hand before pressing it against his cheek. He knew that you were the only woman for him. His eyes would never wonder, his love would never fade. You made him feel like a man and he would fulfill you as a woman.

Married life was blissful to him as his wife dotted on him hand and foot, and he would do the same. He would come back to his chambers only find her reading or sleeping and the moment his presence was made known she would drop everything to take care of him. You would take care of his wounds, ensure he was clean from head to toe by preparing him a bath. You devoted yourself to proving that you were an idealic wife only to be reminded that he had his own needs to prove himself a worthy husband. He would massage your feet and take care of you when sick. He would have the servants in the palace fetch you whatever you so desire. Only the finest food would be reserved for you. Only the best gifts would be given to you. Nothing would prevent him from sending you letters that were filled with promises of coming back and making you both complete with a child. He couldn’t have asked for a more dutiful partner that matched him.

But it all came crashing down when a shaman they had captured asked him if he wanted to see fate, to witness his future as it was already set. Horus had assumed that the old hag had simply done this to stop them from killing her but he was corrected when they did not flinch at the tip of his sword cutting into their skin. He agreed, curiosity getting the best of him. The shaman mixed powders, and liquids into a ranging flame and chanted words he did not know nor understood. In the smoke appeared your image but Horus was not the one standing next to you. Guilliman was there instead. You were kissing Guilliman, deeper and more lovingly than you’ve ever kissed him. You spoke his brother's name with breathless want unlike how you spoke his own. You were as dotting and as diligent as how you were with Horus but you looked more in love with his damn brother. Image after image of you and his blond-haired brother kissing and living in married bliss set a fire inside him he tried to quell and snuff, but it consumed him. It ate at him as the shaman prophesied that it was only a matter of time before this woman Horus wedded would leave him and fall in love with Guilliman. That if he wanted to preserve his marriage he had to keep you apart and even then it wouldn’t be guaranteed that you would remain faithful. That destiny and fate were never wrong and that no matter his efforts you would leave.

Horus laughed at the shaman in something that almost felt bitter as he promised that his wife was faithful and only had room to love him. But he knew deep down that he was lying to himself and he simply couldn’t have this hag have him bested. Either a swift movement he cut off her head and watched it roll onto the floor as her body slumped forward into the flame. Blood pooled around the corpse and dripped from his sword.

“You are wrong old witch. She is mine. She was promised to me!” He let out in a bitter rage. He walked away, not bothering to take any kind of trophy from his spoils and made it back to his ship with the rest of his sons. He told them to take off a she’s snack to Terra, that they were done here and that there was nothing of value on this planet but only lies and decit.

Once home, he arrived with a new fond vigor and let it all out on you. He smelled of sweat and musk, something manly and oddly attractive. He didn’t bother removing most of his armor but just enough so he could fuck you and have you near to his skin. He watched you pant and moan into the air as he grunted out promises to make you a mother. There was nothing that would take you from him. Nothing.

His father grew unpleased with Horus' petulant attitude. He was acting like a child with how he wouldn't introduce his wife to his brothers. He had promised you to introduce you to all of his brothers, that he would have you known to the galaxy and beyond as his wife and now he was planning on retracting that promise. What if you did leave him for his brother? Why were prophecized to be with Guilliman and not him? Anger consumed his thoughts but he quelled them as he promised his father that he would introduce you soon.

Horus spent an entire day with you, more than he had ever been allotted to spend with you since he was constantly busy, and asked you if you wished to meet his brothers soon. You said yes, happy to finally meet the rest of his family as you had only briefly met the Emperor and that was all. Even your wedding my was a private affair with only your parents and the Emperor to bear witness. To finally meet your husbands siblings meant a great deal to you as you had nine to your own and was desperate to find family.

So began his great plan to keep you faithful and longing for him as the date came ever closer for you to meet his brothers. He promised you riches, promised you children that he didn’t even know if he could give you, granted you every wish you had so you wouldn’t seek it from someone else. All of the nights he had available where spent keeping you in bed with him, cock warning him or him tasting your cunt hoping you would appreciate his careful and attentive care to your needs. He spent his morning showering you in compliments and promising you that he will return to you.

All of this was for not when he finally had to comply and introduce you to his brothers. His father had arranged a small event to host in the palaces garden, hoping to have all of his sons together to celebrate their success in their crusade. While many of his brothers and their sons had arrived already, there was still a few missing as they were busy with final reports and or just arriving. Horus had dressed in his best pelts and downed light armor in his legions colors. You did the same, wearing a loose fitting dress that was decorated with golden trim and design. There was not mistaking who you were, you were his wife and the mother to his sons. His father had warned him to play nice, that you were not a toy but a diplomat as well.

“Do not hinder her, my son.” He had scolded before leaving him be and heading towards the great garden that was filled with music, laugh, and cheer.

Pleasantries were easy as drink and food flowed through the palace. You found it oddly natural to speak to many of his brothers as they all seemed to be similar in personality or at least feigned politeness. You slowly made your way to each brother and finally arrived at the last one who had been entertaining some of his nephews. Guilliman was wearing his people’s attire, a toga colored blue and with the insignia of his chapter proudly displayed in a golden lapel that kept his cape still on his shoulders. His golden lorals were exchanged for real leafs and his armored boots were traded for sandals. He was relaxed, sipping on the wine that was in his chalice.

Horus hoped you would show disinterest in Guilliman, that you wouldn’t want to approach him, that his younger brother was disinteresting enough to make you look away. But no, you approached him, your small hand finding place on your beloved husbands arm as you dragged him over to meet his brother. He complied, hoping that the interecation would be short and brief as this was what he was dreading.

“Brother, this is my lovely wife, Y/n. Mother to my sons, Legionnaire mother of the Luna Wolves.” Horus voice boomed at the last part, almost as he was reemphasizing that you were already spoken for and already had a legion of your own. You smiled and bowed your head at Guilliman, Berle standing straight and meeting his eyes.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Guilliman. My husband has spoken good thing about you, I can assure you.” Your joked. Guilliman let out a small chuckle, a smile blooming on his face as he nodded and joked back that he sure hope so.

You smiled brighter than you ever did with Horus. His brother spoke about his latest victory, detailing the assault and the execution of his plan all while gesturing with his hands. You were entertained by his brothers stories and it left a bitter taste in Horus’ mouth. No, this wouldn’t happen and couldn’t happen. Not here. Not in front of all of these people. Not in front of their father who had promised you to him. You were his. You were his! His wife, the mother to his sons. You couldn’t do this to him!

He grabbed you by the waist and dragged you away to his chambers without even saying goodbye. He threw his brother a quick smile and lead you back to his chambers where he threw you on to his bed and began stripping himself of his clothes as he watched you intently.

“Horus-“ he cut you off with a kiss as he began stripping you of your clothes too. Your clothes were torn and your moans were muffled by his mouth. It only pushed him to go further. He grabbed you by your legs and pushed them up to your ears, his arms and legs making sure to keep you spread open for him. He made use of his hands, his mouth, his cock to pleasure you tenfold so you wouldn't think of anyone other than him. He watched you gasp as he fucked into you and promised you he would ensure that you lay pregnant with his child after this. There was no tenderness in his actions. The once gentle man who would treat you like porcelain when he made love to you was now fucking you like a dog in heat and you his bitch to breed. His mouth found hole on your skin, biting and nipping at it as he thrusted into you. His ablks slapped against your ass as he used one of his hands to play with your clit and rub it as you began to scream that you were close. He didn’t care of you were close or not. He just needed you to remember that you were his first and you were his forever.

“Horus! I can’t-!” You choked out, back arching as you clung to him for dear life as his continues thrust made the bed shake.

“Come for me, Y/n.” He huffed. He tightens his grip around your legs, making sure his hand kept them together and still as he watched your pussy take his cock with ease.

“Let me breed and film you with my children.” He picked up pace before slapping your ass and cumming inside you. His cum began to leak out do you but he wasn’t done yet. More and more of his seed was released into your womb and all he did was watch as it began to coat his dick and your ass.

“Good. I’m sure we will have a welcomed surprise in due time.” He panted out. You lay still as you waited for your husband to pull out of you but he never did. Instead, he grabbed you and pulled you closer to him before he turned you both over and had you laying on his chest as he later on the bed. You could hear the loud thrumming of his heart in his chest as he slowly came down from his climax.

“It was rude to just leave, Horus. You owe your brothers an apology.” You teased, not truly caring as you could barely think in the moment. You were full and could still feel how cum leaked out of your abused and swollen pussy. Horus had never been so eager or predator like before, not even when you asked him to be. You wondered if you would get more opportunities to experience this side of him in bed.

You fell asleep listening to your husbands heartbeat, warm and protected in his arms when Horus lay awake watching you. You were his, child ir jot he would make sure you stayed by him as you were given to him to wed. If you wanted to leave him for his brother you would find that nothing you did wojld set you free. Nothing. You were his and he was yours.

[nightscythe]

xxxix. frisson

→ horus x maevela [oc, she/her] → 6.3k, nsfw 18+, tw cheating (to a degree) → pre-heresy, before he's warmaster, big man just stole his brother's wife and it may actually be justified in this case (ft fulgrim stirring everything)

“Then a word of advice?”

Horus hums. 

“If you are going to steal something from Magnus, at least have the decency to make it worth the trouble. Do not ask me again how she’s doing. Ask her yourself. Don’t just watch her. She is waiting for you, you know.”

Horus looks up to him, ready to argue, but Fulgrim hushes him with a raised fist. He takes a step away, but turns back one last time. 

“You lingered, brother, and if I’m not mistaken, so did she,” Fulgrim states, shrugging his shoulders as though the possibility of futures was endless. He taps two of his fingers against his temple, bowing his head back to his brother before he leaves. “I do hope you will not continue to resist forever. It would be such a waste.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Horus had lost his focus some time ago. 

Usually welcoming of talks about war, territory, and military strategy, especially in the presence of his brothers, the situation was quite unusual for him. No less because they were accompanied by their sons, and another figure from Prospero that he had met so many times before. 

But this was different. 

His focus wasn’t lost. It was somewhere else. As Magnus and Fulgrim spoke, his words were what was lost – he’d started by telling them he had many opinions to share and somehow ended up saying little more than yes or no for the past hour or so. His focus was on something else. Someone, rather. 

It’s only something small. Fulgrim had made a comment about something related to the artistical choices of whoever dared stand up to him, something of which sparked some humour at the table. He’d then turned to his side and made a private remark to Maevela. She had leaned in to listen to him, her hand grazing the edge of the table as she moved her attention his way. 

He'd looked away, noticing his staring when she first made a soft gasp. He found some interest in the rows of books behind her, white noise filling his ears as he tries his very best to read some of the words on the book covers. 

Then, she laughs.

He’s drawn back to her, as much as he tried to resist. It’s quiet at first, just a breath, before she lets herself be unrestrained. Her head had tilted back, exposing the curve of her neck that laid bare without any jewels. The movement caught the candlelight perfectly. The delicate line of her throat, the soft rise and fall of her breath. 

Something presses tight against his ribs. He’d looked to Magnus expectantly, but there was no reaction. His brother did not even seem to care that she spoke or made a noise. His attention was in the book on the table detailing a list of artefacts recovered. He hadn’t tried to get her attention the entire time they sat there. He never leaned in to speak with her. He barely even looked at her. Horus’ nails dig into his skin as though the pain might ground him, make reality seem more adjusted. 

Horus had noticed it before, but this was different. His brother was so openly uncaring and indifferent. Maevela, she was… 

She’s so graceful as she listens to Fulgrim. Her hands, so much smaller than his, were restless on the table as her finger idly traces the golden embellishing of the marble. The sun shone against her skin and highlighted her features that stood out so strikingly. Her skin was smooth, yet the hint of a smile remained on the corners of her lips even as she stopped laughing.

And he shouldn’t be thinking that. Not now. There was no reason to. It was ridiculous for someone such as him to be disturbed by such simple emotions. 

He had admired her. Always had. She was dedicated and strong, loyal to an empire that many wished to discard her from. She had stood at Magnus’ side and elevated him with the same, knowing smile on her lips as everyone praised him. No one had looked at her the same way. But Horus did. 

His stomach twists. Knowing his thoughts she be let go off, he sits forward in his chair and leans his elbow on the table. He looks down at his lap for a moment, clearing his throat and allowing his back teeth to rest together as his jaw sets. When he looks back up, he thinks to look to Fulgrim, always commanding the attention around him, but instead his eyes fall straight to her.

He can’t bring himself to look away. Her silent attention paid to the conversation around her is met with agreeing nods and hums. Her hair, loose to fall down her back, is as white as the frost on a winter’s morning, decorated with simple ribbon to hold smaller braids in place. Her eyes twinkle in the light around them, colour a mix of every hue it seemed, finally settling on the green of the forest trees. His breathing catches.

She looks at him. She noticed. 

He looks away quickly, trying to cover up his actions, but he’s returned her eyes to her too fast. She will still looking at him, inquisitively, as if to confirm her own suspicions.

Though her eyes flicker away, his gaze linger for just a moment longer than needed. She shouldn’t have even noticed him, but she did, and she had shyly looked away thinking that maybe he hadn’t noticed as well. 

Seconds pass, then he sees it. Her lips, not once moving from their default position before now, curve into the smallest smile. It doesn’t last, certainly not as Magnus looks around to confirm whatever he had uttered before. But he was not imagining it. 

And suddenly, he knows. 

His heartbeat pounds too hard. He looks away quickly, shifting in his chair again and trying to focus his attention on the paper in front of him. The words don’t even register to him. So much for pretending he wasn’t staring… It felt like everyone in the room had caught him. Especially with how heavy Fulgrim’s gaze on him is. 

He steals a glance up to Magnus, expecting to have been caught somehow. Still, nothing. His brother to the left of Maevela was still oblivious to everything going on around him. His brother to the right, however, seemed to know every single thing that was happening in the room right then. 

Horus catches the smirk that Fulgrim wears. So observant, so aware of everyone’s personal lives, but especially of the two that he had tried for years to weave together as it became more and more apparent that Magnus and Maevela had left their relationship years and years ago. 

Fulgrim turns back to Maevela, murmuring something that only the pair could hear. Horus tries to read his brother’s lips, but he speaks too quickly, lips already contorted by his amusement. Maevela looks back to Fulgrim, brows pulled together and lips already parted, smile beginning to waver. He then asks her something, sounded out careful, as though he wanted Horus to understand. You do realise he was staring, don’t you?

She looks from Fulgrim, to Horus, then down to the floor. She gave no answer that he could see or hear, but he knew she gave one. Fulgrim looks at him once more with his head tilted to the side, pleased with her response most of all. He had been caught, and his scheming brother was going to have everything to do with it. 

“Forgive me,” Horus speaks, commanding the attention from the room. All but Maevela look to him, even Magnus seems pleased to hear his voice. He pushes his chair back, clearing his throat, and bows his head to Magnus in particular. “Thank you for inviting me to discuss our plans, but there’s something I need to urgently attend to. Perhaps we shall continue later?”

No one was going to stop him. Instead, they let him leave, and as he turns, he feels Maevela’s eyes on him once more. Curious. Unsure. He hears her shift in the seat behind him, so much more delicate than both of his brothers, like she wished to ask something. No words every come from her, only the voice of his brother again, words silk-wrapped in venom as he stands as well. Horus stops just before the door. 

“Give me five minutes,” Fulgrim says, his hand on Maevela’s shoulder. He doesn’t even look to Magnus as he speaks. Both of them look to Horus directly, and he can see it just out of the corner of his eye. “It seems our brother needs time to think about… well, something he wants but thinks he shouldn’t have. Let me speak the truth to him. I will be back shortly.”

It feels like such a condescending hand on his shoulder, but Horus lets Fulgrim guide him out of the room into the hallway, hearing the silence falling behind them. He wanted a moment to breathe, but it would not be gifted to him. His hands feel like they shake a little, his jaw hurts from how tightly it’s been clenched. When Horus finally stops walking, Fulgrim turns all his attention to him. 

“In front of Magnus?” he asks, eyes wide. Horus can’t help but rolls his eyes as Fulgrim continues. “Horus, my dear brother, you may carry the emperor’s favour, but do not doubt for a second that Magnus would turn a blind eye to your advances onto his wife. He is just as possessive as you.”

Horus brings his hand to his face, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do not doubt he would.”

“Then a word of advice?”

Horus hums. 

“If you are going to steal something from Magnus, at least have the decency to make it worth the trouble. Do not ask me again how she’s doing. Ask her yourself. Don’t just watch her. She is waiting for you, you know.”

Horus looks up to him, ready to argue, but Fulgrim hushes him with a raised fist. He takes a step away, but turns back one last time. 

“You lingered, brother, and if I’m not mistaken, so did she,” Fulgrim states, shrugging his shoulders as though the possibility of futures was endless. He taps two of his fingers against his temple, bowing his head back to his brother before he leaves. “I do hope you will not continue to resist forever. It would be such a waste.”

Fulgrim walks away, leaving Horus stood in the middle of the hall. He does not move, only watches, and as the doors to the room are opened once more, he seems Maevela inside, cautiously looking up to see who would return through the doors. Her eyes search for his own, though he does not linger like before. 

Fulgrim stops at the door. Magnus must surely have looked up by now. “What will you do about it now, brother?”

His fingers flex at his side. Fulgrim doesn’t look back. Doesn’t need to. Horus already knows he is smirking.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀��˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Maevela isn’t meant to be thinking about him. 

She shouldn’t keep replaying it in her mind. How his eyes lingered on her. How he looked from her, knowing he was caught, but looked back again. 

But she was. 

Over and over and over. Her hands gripped the stone fence that lined the edge of the balcony. The warm evening never helped the blush that spread over her cheeks, the usual breeze failing to show and save her. She closes her eyes, saving herself from the view of Tizca beneath her, and takes a breath. 

He always asks me about you.

Of course, it would be Fulgrim’s voice that disturbs any chance she has of peace. Every time they spoke Horus was mentioned. She wasn’t even sure why Horus had been invited here in the first place, lest it be at Fulgrim’s wish. Now his words ring in her ears, never leaving her to the silence she craved. Why did Horus ask about her?

She squeezes her eyes shut, dipping her head ever so slightly as though it would force the thoughts and feelings to leave her. She scrunches her nose, her whole face, tips of her fingers pressing into the stone. Then the door opens behind her. 

She turns, quickly, hiding any trace of her thoughts. Her expectations are correct. Though she sees the outline of her husband inside, disguised by the darkness of candles neither of them bothered to light, he never looks at her. Whatever has his attention, it is not her. 

“Ahzek is looking for you,” Magnus says. 

She blinks. She approaches the door, thinking there would be more. She even tries to speak as almost reaches the door. “Magnus—” 

But he doesn’t let her finish. One nod, dismissive, distracted by whatever he worked on, is all he allows her. Just a nod before he turns away, and Maevela is left to her thoughts one more time. He didn’t want to hear what she said. He may not have even cared. 

She watches as he walks away from her, the heavy door of the room inside left to close without another glance her way. 

He must have seen it, earlier. Magnus was as observant as Fulgrim, maybe even more so. He could not have ignored everything that was right before him. He must have heard Fulgrim’s words, seen the way Horus had walked away… Unless he did not see, or hear. He may have chosen not to see her any longer. That decision may have been one he made a long time. 

As much as she knew, she had been able to ignore it. No one dared to speak out of tone with her. Perhaps Ahzek, or Amon, lifelong friends of them both, but that was only friendlier than others. No one had dared to look at her the way Magnus once did, not before Horus did today. 

She should have felt sadness for it. To have someone fall out of love with you? It should have broken her. But she knew. It was not a silent change. It was only confirmed now, any of her suspicions were accurate. She had mourned long before today. 

She doesn’t dwell on the fact. Magnus had told her to find Ahzek, and she would. That’s what she should do. She trails the long hallways and stairs with the intention of finding the First Captain who usually asked for her to discuss something which would keep her distracted long enough to process today. A new spell, an uncovered artefact, something he would not burden his primarch with but knew she would enjoy. 

But fate would not have it that way. 

She had been looking at the floor, noting the frayed edges of a carpet, when she heard the footsteps. The sound resembled Magnus, so used to hearing him around there, but when she looked up it was not her husband that greeted her. No, it was Horus. No armour, no elaborate cape with the wolf around his shoulders. Just Horus. Looking at her already. 

She feels a unexpected relief wash over her, completed by a flicker of excitement that lays dormant at the edges of her nerves. He was likely going to Magnus. He had permission to traverse these halls just like she did, but unlikely they would just run into each other. Yet Magnus would not have orchestrated this. 

There was no planning. There was nothing deliberate. It was just the weavings of fate. His presence had lingered around her since earlier, he saddled each of her thoughts from the moment she was alone. It was deliberate, even if she didn’t believe it so. Inevitable, even.

It should mean nothing. It does mean nothing. As they approach each other, neither utter a word. Even though he doesn’t speak, he slows down, and she feels herself do the same. As if Fulgrim’s word replay to them both. What will you do about it now, brother? Maevela expects nothing. 

She sees him nod, a small smile on her lips, and she should expect nothing. She nods back at him. She should keep walking. He should keep walking. Just as she thinks that he has chosen to do nothing, his voice echoes through the otherwise empty room. 

“Come look at the stars with me.”

Maevela stops. He says it so easily. Like he’d rehearsed it or said it hundreds of times to her before. Like it’s nothing. Like he knew what she would do already. It should be so easy for her to reply no. That she’s busy, that she’s going to find Ahzek as he requested, like she was told to do by her husband a few floors above them. She shouldn’t hesitate this much. 

But she does. 

She turns back to him, reaching his gaze with innocent eyes. Her lips part, words ready to be spoken, but she stops them. She doesn’t want to say no. Her uncertainty, her pause, it would have easily been found by Horus. He would have known. 

“I shouldn’t,” she says. She stumbles over a few syllables, holding her hands behind her back as she denies one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. “Ahzek… Ahriman, he is looking for me. I should…”

Her foot shifts forward, though she stops herself again. Even with her excuse, she doesn’t want to move. She waits, watches, wonders. Hesitation is laced in her every word. 

Horus nods once. He steps towards her, stopping about a metre before her. Satisfaction lays zealous in his eyes. He does not react immediately, though patience is lost to him quickly – he holds his hand out to her, as a gesture, not a command. An encouragement. An offer. Her fingers twitch at her side. 

And she takes it, knowing she had accepted the fate she was promised. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

He had found a quiet spot in the great pyramid the night before. Trying to escape Fulgrim’s incessant words of his future and how he needed to do… something, Horus had walked the halls of the pyramid until he found a balcony, hidden away, likely known to Magnus but not many others. 

He’d seen the lines of worry in Maevela’s face. He’d heard Fulgrim’s words repeat in his head. As he stood here now, in the place he had unknowingly found his way to, watching her under the starlight, he realised he had been waiting for this moment all along. 

The stars stretch over them, silent witnesses to a moment once forbidden. Though she had not spoken, her mind seemed to have found a peaceful state. Her fingertips moved back and forth on the golden railing, her eyes watching over the horizon as though it had given her the answers she so deeply desired. 

He didn’t consider that he may have brought her that comfort. It really hadn’t crossed his mind. Not until he leaned forward, arms crossed as they rested on the railing, shoulders hunched as he brough himself to her level. She looked at him, distracted for a second, and the corners of her lips started to rise. 

“I bet you have walked every street in this city,” he says, words absent of any emotion. He focuses on a quiet street, somewhat at the edge of his vision, where a couple walk together, hand in hand. “I have always been envious. Prospero is one of the most beautiful places I have come across.”

Maevela hums. She leans forward too, though looks in the opposite direction to him. He tries to follow her gaze, though where she focuses he cannot be sure. “One day I will see Cthonia, and disagree with you.”

“I highly doubt that,” Horus comments, “it’s nothing like this. Only the streets of Macragge may match this. You should be proud.”

“Magnus should be proud.”

“You had no part in its making at all?” he questions. 

“A very limited part,” Maevela tells him. She sighs as she leans back from the railing, avoiding his eyes. “One day I may see Macragge, too.”

Horus holds his answer. He watches her, his hands hesitant to reach out to her as much as his mind tells him to do so. Her arms cross over her chest as she looks back up to the sky above them, the light of the stars catching her eyes as she travels the distance between each one. He sees the sting of a tear form in her eyes, though before she allows herself to be seen in that way, she blinks it away quickly. He doesn’t comment, allowing her to think she was quick enough to conceal it. 

“I will take you.” Horus does not expect an answer, he was stating a fact. He’d travel to the ends of the world to make up for the hurt hidden deep within her. He didn’t need her to tell him everything. Just a moment with her and he could see it.

He watches as the starlight catches in her hair, the soft shimmer of the gems on her dress. She belongs to Prospero, to this world of golden light and endless knowledge. Yet there was something else in her, something untouchable. Something no city could ever match. 

 “Though the beauty of any of those cities, even the splendour of Prospero, pale in comparison to you, Maevela.”

Her breathing stops. She does not look at him, only to the sky, the distant stars, anything but him. He felt his gaze wonder across her. Her hair still the same as before, resting on her shoulders covered by pale blue, chiffon sleeves, the same material that hung dutily over her chest to cover what he dress did not. She has a cuff on her upper arm, a haematite band with a sprinkling of deep sapphire blue gems attached. On her chest lays a small pendant, an obsidian eye motif attached, and another below with a small tablet with an inscription in Prosperine that he could not read. On her fingers, a gold ring with two intertwined serpents, each biting the others tail, one with a ruby eye, one with a sapphire eye. 

As she dips her head forward, a loose piece of her hair falls from behind her ear. She does not notice immediately, but as a soft breeze wisped over them, Horus reached to her. He brushed the hair back behind her ear, his fingers lingering by her. She doesn’t stop him, she doesn’t ask him what he’s doing. She shifts her head towards him, exhaling a slow and quiet breath, as if weighing the moment before it breaks. 

He doesn’t think. He places his hand on her cheek, fully this time, and turns her towards him. He’s so careful that their skin barely touches. His fingers merely brush over her skin. Neither speak. There’s nothing to say. They just watch each other, eyes boring into one another as though everything made sense. In that very moment, he saw everything. 

He leans in, slowly. He stops, maybe a centimetre from her lips, expecting her to pull away. He feels her breath shudder, her fingers trembling as she curls her fingers into fists at her side. When a second passes and she doesn’t move, he presses his lips onto hers, allowing his eyes to close. Her head tilts ever so slightly to the left wanting to feel more of him. His hand moves, floating over her waist until he finally sets it down, tips of his fingers pulling her closer to him, their bodies just touching. 

As he starts to pull away, he feels her follow him. She tries, so softly, to keep him there with her, to chase the warmth of her lips on his. Just for a second, but long enough for him to realise. His hand still holds her waist, not letting her move from before him, the hand on her cheek slowly falling down so his thumb rests on her jaw. Her arm starts to move, like she wants to reach for him, but she stops herself. 

He knew then. He knew the truth of everything. There was no turning back. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

She had turned to leave. An unbroken silence had left neither wishing to make a move. With whatever courage she had, she turned to leave him. But he would not have just let her walk away. 

“Maevela,” he says, his voice low. 

She stops but does not turn around. She feels his hand on her, fingertips ghosting her wrist at her side. He does not pull her back. He does not force her. She could easily have walked away, left it at that, never spoke of their kiss again. 

She exhales. Shaky. Unsure of what to say. 

He breaks the tension for her. His voice barely reaches a whisper. “Stay.”

She looks back to him, turning slowly on the spot. Her heart leads, her body follows. She knows she shouldn’t return to him. She shouldn’t stay. But her once soft green eyes have darkened to the colour of a pine tree, the feeling bubbling within her something she does not want to name. “Horus…”

“Just stay,” he murmurs. He takes a step closer to her, brushing his thumb over the inside of her wrist. He would be able to feel how fast her heart races. The space between them shrinks before she can react. She would not stop him, even if she could. “For a little while. Stay with me.”

She trailed behind him as they endured the slow walk to his temporary quarters. No word was spoken, no shared looks. They did not meet another as they followed the path, the silence crackling around them, air thick with unspoken meanings and feelings. He’d shut the door behind them, the click of the lock bouncing around the four walls. 

It was like they had never know what to do with each other. She stands in the middle of the room, glancing around at everything that decorated the area, a room she had walked past a thousand times before yet still looked out of place in. He just watched her. He sat at the edge of the bed, waiting, like he wanted to speak but was unsure of how to say it. 

What will you do about it now?

She doesn’t hesitate any longer. 

She crosses the space between them and kisses him. Gentle, first, then desperate. His hands cup her face, holding her as though she would vanish if he lets go. Her hand falls into his tunic, fist clenched around parts of the material to hold him closer. She twists her hands, trying to feel more, trying to satiate the desire pooling at the pit of her stomach as she tasted more of him. Her lips, swollen, prickled from the stubble that lined his jaw and upper lip, hungrily reach as much of him as he can. 

She pushes him down onto the bed. He watches her, fascinated by her movements, allowing her to crawl back over him so her knees are either side of his body. His hands find her hips to pull her back to him, and she lets herself fall to him, her lips chasing his again like she’s already starved. 

He says her name, somewhere among her kisses, only managing a word between breaths as she feverishly looked to feel everything she can. She never answers him, only kisses him harder. Desperate for him. Needing him. The only time she pulls back, takes a good look at his face, he seems dazed. His eyes are wide, his lips a dark pink and gapped. 

She kisses his lips once, then presses her lips softly up his jaw, reaching his ear. She doesn’t breathe for a moment, but then she tells him. Any restraint she held, it was broken in a second. “I want you.”

His eyes flash obsidian, her heart thumps. She doesn’t register his movements. Both his hands grasp her, flipping her onto her back, allowing his body to straddle hers now. His hands cover her lower arms, his entire being pressing her down into the mattress like this is where she would forever stay. 

His lips ghost along her throat. A stolen kiss on every part of her skin. He’s so agonisingly slow that she wants to whine, cry, but she can’t bring herself to. Her pulse pounds below his mouth. Her name is on her lips. 

“Tell me again,” he breathes, almost growls. 

And she does. 

Over and over. 

Like a broken record. Not that he cares, he never tells her to stop. He listens to her. Drinks it in as his hands worship her skin, racing every part of her body as though he would commit it to memory. His lips are softer than she thought they would be on her neck, or her shoulder, on her chest – until they aren’t any longer. 

He presses her into the bed, his weight, his heat, every part of him surrounding her. She gasps his name between kisses, breathless as she drowns in him. 

“Look at me,” he says against her lip, a subtle vibration between them as his voice reaches a new low, thick sound. He did not request it. He commanded it. She obliged in a heartbeat. “I want to see you as you realise.”

Magnus had never looked at her like that. Like she was the only thing un the universe that mattered. Like he would burn the galaxy is eh asked. Like he would tear apart the very fabric of fate itself just to keep her. 

She shudders beneath him at the thought. She could never walk away from the feeling. She could never again see him the way she once did. But she didn’t want to. Not now. Never again. 

Her eyes never leave his. Her hands sink into the sheets at her side, gripping the material and twisting it in her fingers like it would tether he back to reason or reality. Her thights turn inward, her body signalling just how badly she needed him. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. His lips curl into a smirk. 

His hands roam her body. Slow. Deliberate. He would not be cruel, but he would not give her space to think, to regret, to remember a time before him. He discards the chiffon cover over her. Reveals her dress below, white, innocent, leaving little to the imagination. He would not starve himself any longer. She was his to consume. 

His fingers trace the edge of her dress as he the length of her neck. He pulls the straps down her fingers, he lets his teeth nip at her skin gently. She doesn’t move, she lets him undress her, though when she feels his weight fully against her, how badly he wanted this obvious through his loose clothing, she shivers beneath him. 

He lifts his head to look at her. His eyes a midnight black, his lips swollen and red. He breath trembles, catches in her throat as he withdraws. To the side of the bed, between her legs, kneeling so graciously. He pulls her thighs, moving her body so she’s just on the edge as well. Her dress is pulled away, tossed to the side like nothing. 

Heat floods her face. She turns, wanted to hide the flush that was apparent, but he does not allow it. A simple call, ordered to her. “Don’t look away.”

She nods. Once. She won’t disobey. She doesn’t look away. She just watches, following his eyes as he looks back to her body. A simple pair of shorts. Her final barrier. She does not stop him as she tears it down, leaving her bare, ready. 

She swallows, her fingers still clutch the sheets around her, but she doesn’t take her eyes off him. No matter how hard it is to stare him dead in the eyes as he parts her thighs moves his soft kisses up her thigh, then his tongue, and then his fingers. 

Her body is so warm. Soft, pliant, trembling. She tries to breath, she closes her eyes for just a second as some kind of reprise. She had never tried to imagine this before. She hadn’t considered that she had already given herself to him, and this was his prize. 

He presses two fingers between her folds. A simple hum, followed by a smirk, at how her body had reacted to him. Before he continues, he brings his fingers to his lips and tastes them. Another hum. Her cheeks flush a deep pink. He doesn’t care. 

Maevela gasps as his fingers enter her. Just two, but they aren’t small. He turns his hand over, so his thumb can find her bundle of nerves, so he still has access to her. His fingers curl, and she feels her body clench around him. A whine, whimper, she’s not even sure, leaves her lips as she lets her head fall back. His thumb rubs circles to torment her. His other hand rests on her thigh and traces her skin with soft movements.

She tenses, just for a moment, her thighs shifting as she began to feel things that hadn’t been there in years. She turns her legs inwards again, but he stops her. She opens her eyes to him, noticing his movements have stopped almost completely. His grip on her tightens. His look was enough. “Be still, my love.”

She obeys. 

Oh, she obeys. 

His fingers work at her. Her hands twist into the sheets further as he adds a third, thumb flicking her in the most sensitive way. Just as she thinks it can’t be worse, he can’t take her any further, he replaces his thumb with his tongue, his lips around her in the most beautiful way. 

Her head spins. She makes the smallest of sounds, her knees bending involuntarily as she curves her body into his own, wanting more, needing more. The further he goes, the more she comes undone, the closer she comes to the knot in her stomach breaking from being so tight. The louder she gets. The whinier her cry for more. 

And then he stops. 

“You are not thinking of him,” he says, lips glistening with her slick beneath the lights around them. Her breathing is so heavy she can’t reply, but she knows it is not a question. Her lips part, but she can’t speak. Her fingers digging into her thigh become tighter. “Tell me.”

“No,” she chokes out, feeling his tongue across her. 

He pulls his fingers from her promptly. “Say it.”

“I am not thinking of him,” she finally confirms, wishing to feel him again. 

A smirk ghosts over his lips. He releases her thigh. He moves back from her. Before she can protest, ask him why, he strips the tunic covering his top from his shoulders, little care for the buttons in his way. Each item of his clothing removed, agonisingly slow, but a final moment for her to turn away. 

She doesn’t. She wouldn’t. 

And his voice, dark and laced with triumph, whispers a final claim, his whispered promise. “You never have to again.”

He moves with purpose. No hesitation or doubt. He knows and he wants to devour her. His hands trace over he skin, slowly, as he places himself above her. Still afraid to take her eyes away, not wanting to disappoint him, she cannot look anywhere but right at him. 

It is like he is the first to ever touch her skin. He maps it all. He wishes to know everything. In that moment, he was the first. Nothing like this has occurred. This was different. 

His lips find the curve of her throat, the hollow beneath her collarbones, and the trembling pulse beneath her skin. She burns beneath him. He looks to her with concern, only for a second, then he knows. 

“Are you afraid?” he asks, breath hot against her skin. She shakes her head no, but can’t find any words. He stills her shaking body with his grasp, though each touch makes her want to lean into him. It amused him, somehow. “You want me.”

She hums. His hand that cups her chin and makes her look to him causes her to gasp. 

“Say it.”

“I want you.”

His hand reaches down, guiding his cock so the very tip sits at her entrance. She exhales sharply, her head tilting back, her body aching beneath his touch. She arches her back, expecting more, wanting more, but he was the one in control here. He was the one that would give her what she wanted. 

“Who do you belong to?”

She barely whispers her answer. “You.”

He would not need to hear it twice. 

A gasp leaves her lips as he pushes his length into her. His head falls to her, pressing into her shoulder and neck as his hips fall flush against her. He doesn’t move. Just for a moment, just until he thinks she’s settled. 

He raises his head. His eyes search for hers, seemingly wrecked when he finds her. He lets his forehead rest against hers. It was so plain. So ordinary. Yet it meant everything. 

He pulls out from her, slowly as before, a knowing smile on his lips. Her hands find his bicep, nails catching his skin, digging in further as he ruts into her, then again, the again. He had conquered the stars, and now he had conquered her. 

She moans his name. He must like it. Every time the sound leaves her lips she speeds up. He well and truly ends up fucking her. Devouring her. And Maevela? She can barely breathe. She forgets anything other than him. His love for her. His body. Him. 

He brings his lips to hers, feverishly kissing her as his legs begin to stutter. He would not last long – yet neither was she. Masterful with his hands, equally so with his body. He waited for her, a small sign as her whines, moans, whatever they could be called, become louder, harder to conceal behind a veil. Her body shakes, closer to coming undone. 

He does not let her breathe. He does not let her think. His hand, large, wraps around her own, entwining their fingers as he starts to falter. Just one look in the eyes, the rope finally snapping, every part of her coming undone. It gets him, too. He holds her, fills her with his warmth, and stays even longer until he knows he is fully spent. 

But his body was not done, she knew that – he knew that. 

He pressed another kiss to her lips. Whispered her name as dark as the midnight sky. He had waited so long. This was not ending so soon. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

a/n: thanks for reading! promise I didn’t just main character maevela extremely hard. I had to destroy her and magnus’ relationship for a reason. m41 will be kind to them!!!

[radiantisgabriel]

its been a while since i last posted!!! here’s Uriel, my ultrakill oc :P pre-canon he worked as an archivist for heaven, and was gabriels secret boyfriend before the council began to see his work as a threat to their rule and he was stripped of the father’s light and banished to heresy. or something along those lines

[yuzu-kiku]

I VOLUNTEER TO DO MY PART AS A CERTIFIED FULGRIM FAN

we need to start pushing Fulgrim and/or emperors children novels as entry points to the franchise. im so serious.

[osamucide]

R E I D ?!?!!!

casually dropping the divine comedy as ada!reid’s ability ?!?!?! nonono, i need DETAILS, i need THE LORE, i need to know what age he discovered it and if it frightened him or made him feel STRONG !!!

( if you feel like expanding i mean. love you, love ada!reid, smooches )

MINNNIIIIEEEEEEEE ILYSM ILL TALK ABOUT THIS FOREVER IF YOU LET ME

non-exhaustive BSD OC lore drop beneath the cut

I am so excited to explain this ability. Nine Circles of Hell is a multi-layered summoning ability, similar to Demon Snow or Golden Demon in that it ultimately manifests anthropomorphically, but I want to first talk about Reid’s childhood which is when he discovered his ability as I believe that will lead into a better overall understanding of each aspect of it—

Reid was born somewhere in southern Italy to a staunchly devout Roman Catholic family with very close ties to the Italian mafia/La Cosa Nostra. his immediate family immigrated by boat to the eastern United States (probably somewhere in New York/New Jersey) when he was early primary school aged in pursuit of better business/economic opportunities. throughout childhood and into the rest of his life, he struggles with what can be assumed as undiagnosed mental illness—especially depression/derealization/panic—for multitudes of reasons including neglect and early exposure to crime and violence; almost all of them stem from his family’s criminal lifestyle. in his pre-teen years, his dissociative episodes specifically begin to become associated with the manifestation of a fog-like apparition. the presence of the fog, which can disperse and reform, induces further disorientation. this was rather distressing for young Reid.

he has a difficult time understanding the presence and nature of the fog, as does his family, but this will eventually come to be understood as a manifestation of the first circle of hell as referenced in Dante’s Inferno: Limbo.

another thing perhaps of note—Italy/La Cosa Nostra deals with special ability users to a far lesser degree than Japan/Yokohama/the Port Mafia seems to. figuring the nature of the fog, and soon after the hot wind-entity that manifests as a representation of the second circle, Lust (which incidentally appears as he starts puberty LOL), entails a trip back to Italy and connecting with medical professionals associated with the mob (under the inital assumption that he may have been schizophrenic) and later the scarce other local crime families who happen to house and deal with ability users. he hears the phrase “special ability” for the first time when he’s eleven years old.

by this time, the third circle, Gluttony, begins to manifest in what appears to be dirty water—prolonged exposure to the entity brings on uncontrollable feelings of hunger. now that I’ve established these ones as prior to/right at his point of understanding that Nine Circles is an ability, I’ll explain the remaining six circles’ manifestations as they tend to be more concrete and are only accessible to Reid as his understanding of how to control/summon/utilize his ability grows.

the fourth circle, Greed—entity takes the form of illusory manifestations of material wealth and riches. much like Gluttony, prolonged physical contact with the manifestations will result in uncontrolled, judgement-clouding feelings of envy.

the fifth circle, Wrath—manifested as a contorted body made entirely of human hands. the hands can wield weapons or engage in combat on behalf of the ability user.

the sixth circle, Heresy—entity takes a flame form that comes with not only bludgeoning heat but also slight reality distortion meant to disorient targets.

the seventh circle, Violence—an animal, particularly dog-like, form of the entity appearing to be made of blood. attacks relentlessly and ruthlessly, most of the time at will of the user but sometimes indescriminately

the eighth circle, Fraud—the entity may take the form of one human being other than the ability user.

the ninth circle, Treachery—entity takes an ice form that comes not only with bitter cold, but favors targeting those most morally corrupt.

this is where you might be saying woah, Reid, this ability is wayyyy overpowered. and you might be correct if not for the conditions, limitations, and drawbacks which I will now discuss—

each individual facet of Nine Circles has specific conditions under which it may happen, the first and foremost being the user's understanding of how to summon it. Reid's experiences with first summoning each one would be a novel itself probably but a few are briefly listed up there so I'll do another listicle format for the conditions, drawbacks, and limitations.

universal drawbacks of the ability include these: that the manifestation of any of the circles will result in certain levels of emotional exhaustion in the user. no two circles/facets can be utilized at the same time. the degree to which a target is affected by a particular facet of Nine Circles is partially determined by how afflicted they are by the sin; i.e. a crooked business man might be especially susceptible to Greed

the first circle, Limbo—

CONDITIONS: user must enter a state of derealization/dissociation

DRAWBACKS: difficult to maintain if the user is unable to dissociate or is not already in a state of dissociation; prolonged use will cause immense emotional and mental exhaustion

LIMITATIONS: non-offensive facet; better suited for confusing the battlefield, but works indiscriminately when dispersed—will confuse allies as well

the second circle, Lust—

CONDITIONS: user must conjure a mental or physical image of some sort of desire and keep this in mind/on hand

DRAWBACKS: prolonged use can reflect on the user in the form of both emotional and mental exhaustion and intense sexual arousal

LIMITATIONS: can be used offensively only if summoned to the proper capacity (ie strong wind) which must be maintained by the mental/physical image of desire; can be directed, but if strong enough will work indiscriminately, possibly harming allies

the third circle, Gluttony—

CONDITIONS: user must be operating on an empty/mostly empty stomach

DRAWBACKS: user is prone to exhaustion quicker if using this facet due to the necessary fasting procedure needed to summon it

LIMITATIONS: liquid manifestation is user-controllable; N/A/???

the fourth circle, Greed—

CONDITIONS: same as the second circle, Lust

DRAWBACKS: N/A/???

LIMITATIONS: non-offensive facet; better for confusing the battlefield; illusions can only be maintained under conditions (although it is easier to maintain than Lust)

the fifth circle, Wrath—

CONDITIONS: user must feel passionately about the cause they're combating

DRAWBACKS: N/A/???

LIMITATIONS: while the body can wield weapons and engage in combat, its range is limiting and it can be harmed like a regular human body—regeneration only takes place after the ability is dismissed

the sixth circle, Heresy—

CONDITIONS: N/A/???

DRAWBACKS: heat and reality distortion reflect back on the user to a lesser extent than targets, but can still be overwhelming

LIMITATIONS: only those who have physically spoken a lie in the prior twenty-four hours are majorly susceptible—others will not be affected unless touched directly by flame, which is controllable by user but more fluid than say Wrath

the seventh circle, Violence—

CONDITIONS: user must shed any amount of blood to activate

DRAWBACKS: may manifest after major blood loss out of the control of the user

LIMITATIONS: while mostly commandable by the user, high enough levels of exhaustion/exertion might allow Violence to attack indiscriminately, possibly harming allies

the eigth circle, Fraud—

CONDITIONS: user must have and keep the physical appearance of the intended form in mind

DRAWBACKS: N/A/???

LIMITATIONS: taking on the form of another will not grant the entity their powers/ability; largely non-offensive, more ideal for distraction/manipulation like Greed

the ninth circle, Treachery—

CONDITIONS: N/A/???

DRAWBACKS: heaviest reflection on the user due to the nature of the ability. each time Treachery is used, the chances of the facet turning on the user slightly increase

LIMITATIONS: see drawbacks

Reid had discovered all of these by the time he was almost fifteen years old. in present time, the only ones he regularly utilizes are Wrath and Violence due to both their minimal drawbacks compared to other circles and the high level of control he comes to hone over them.

At fifteen is when he was sent to Yokohama, which is another lore drop entirely I think. maybe I should go back to that multichapter fic I scrapped that was basically going to be all of his lore? I've spent quite some time mulling over this ability not only as it unfolds in the world of BSD and in relation to characters, but also how it relates to me—since Reid essentially is me, a lot of his character/ability is informed by (personal moment lolz) how intensely I've found myself to experience emotions throughout my life and how they can both harm and help me and others/what kinds of kickbacks they have when activated. that being said, this is non-exhaustive, just like him as a whole, just like me too. I sincerely hope this was interesting!

[yuzu-kiku]

(FC: Angell from Path to Nowhere; I believe this is official art. Sorry guys, I cannot draw lmao)

Name: Jingfang "The Fang" Baili

An interator who studied under Golconda Pyke, and was considered one of her best students. She is not Terran-born; her homeworld was Chemos. Fang's talents were discovered early on, and she was brought to Terra to further her studies and eventually become an iterator.

Fang is well-respected amongst her peers, but not always in good ways. She has the intellect, presence and eloquence expected of an iterator, but her face lacks expressions, to the point where her emotional range is compared to that of an Astartes. And when she does try to smile, she looks so terrifying that she makes people run. An extreme example of how fake smiles cannot compare to genuine ones.

(Of course, she feels emotions. She was just brought up in a pragmatic environment which valued suppressing them).

Fang carries a sword on her hip, made in the style of the Sulpha. It is mostly ceremonial in nature, serving as a subtle threat to those who may look down on her. She does use it, though, to let out her frustrations in the soldier's training grounds when she's faced with a particularly difficult situation.

On Chemos, her clan played a prominent role in its politics. In the distant past, they were one of the nomadic tribes who took over one of Chemos' factory-cities, until they allied with Fulgrim via a political marriage; it is said that she bears a near uncanny resemblance to the woman who was wed to Fulgrim, in both looks and intellect.

Fang requested specifically to work with the 3rd Legion, half because she respected them and their drive for self-improvement, and partially because she found the legion's dedication to culture and art nostalgic to her homeworld (no doubt because they have the same leader).

Not that she would ever admit it to anyone but her teacher, a small part of her also wished to talk to Fulgrim himself. Not that she knew exactly what to talk about, but... call it a curiosity on what would happen if they met.

Fun Facts:

She asked people to call her Fang out of ease, but it took on a whole different meaning when during one of her assignments as a junior iterator, she got pissed off at a governor spouting nonsense and rebuked him so hard that the man almost wet himself. Pyke herself had to step in and scold her student, but she was seen laughing to herself for a good while afterwards.

She only knows the basics of swordsmanship, but she's wanted to find a teacher who knows the blade-dancing art that the Sulpha people used to practice.

Fang is actually very conscious about how terrifying she can look. Sure, she can still navigate a conversation with ease like any other iterator, but it would be nice if she could be as charismatic as Pyke...

She has considered, if she ever met Fulgrim, calling him her great-great-great-great-great-granduncle to see his reaction. She would never actually do it, lest she lose both her job and her head. But wouldn't that be funny?

[lemon-russ]

This is a new OC x Russ story I wanted to do. Very self indulgent, but a little less silly than my others. I'll still be doing reader insert fics and everything though! Just wanted something different. This one will hopefully be like a slow burn kinda story with more actual plot but there's gonna be smut eventually, as a warning. Short intro chapter for today :)

It's also 30k bc, well, Leman Russ.

(This will probably have breeding kink stuff eventually BUT I am working on a seprate breeding kink/ pregnancy one from the poll thats reader x russ)

(Thanks @squishyowl for the dividers)

Wolf Mother (Ch. 1)

Next>

Ao3

Leman Russ x Fem OC

CW (not necessarily this chapter but overall): Trauma, anxiety, PTSD, General WH40k violence, Sex, probably breeding kink stuff eventually, if there's something I miss and you want labeled let me know!!

Summary: Ex-Captain Vaille is asked a favor by her Primarch

EDIT NOTE: I wrote here that Wren was in the Astra Millitarum (Imperial Guard). I meant for her to be part of the Auxilia, since the IG did not exist pre-heresy. I have changed it to Imperialis Auxilia (Imperial army). Sorry :)

Word count: 1,118

Sitting at her desk in her little office, Wren writes paperwork that will surely just be mindlessly handed around and stamped without being read. She wonders, if she just started writing nonsense in the middle, if anyone would ever be paying enough attention to catch it. She wonders if theres any point in writing them out at all besides the Ultramarine's love of paperwork.

A knock at her door calls her attention. “Come in.” she answers, and the door slides open.

Her eyes widen, and she stands when she sees it is the primarch himself waiting for her.

“Lord Guilliman, what do I owe the pleasure?” She says quickly, and he holds a hand up with a soft smile.

“At ease, Captain.” He says, and you try not to grimace.

“I'm not a Captain, sir.” She corrects, “But it is an honor as always. What do you require?”

He gives a small smile, “As I've yet to think of a new title for you, Captain still works as well for now.” He says, gaze momentarily falling to her bionic leg. “But, I have a request.” He continues, pulling up a chair and motioning for her to sit.

She frowns a bit. It felt wrong to have the primarch sit at her desk like a common paper pusher for a meeting, but she sits down again.

“This is a request, not an order.” He starts, making her scrunch her brow. “It is not that I don't want you here. I think you are one of my top assistants.” He says gently.

The gentleness of the delivery did not dull the blow. “Sir… have I done something…?” She asks. It was improper to speak back to a primarch, but she couldn't help it. She'd been dilligent, attentive, thorough, orderly, all the things ultramarines represent.

He frowns. “I am not firing you, Captain, please, hear me out.” He explains.

“It's about my brother, Leman Russ.” He says with a small sigh. “He is impossible to work with. It is becoming an issue for me. I never know where he is or what his Legion is doing until last minute.”

She gives him a confused look, and then her eyes widen. “Sir, you… surely you don't mean to…”

He gives a sheepish smile, a foreign thing on the face of a demi-god. “Please, Captain? No, I ask this as a friend-” he says, scooting closer to her desk. “Wren, can you please go work with my brother? Even just so I have someone, *anyone* to actually get in contact with?”

Her mouth hangs open. “Lord Guilliman, what- why me?” She stutters. He was really going to feed her to the wolves, literally. She'd never missed a deadline, yet she was being tossed to Leman Russ.

Guilliman chuckles, “Come now, Captain Vaille. I can tell this work is slow for you.” He says, taking a framed pict off her desk.

She frowned a bit as he smiled at the picture, depicting a young, newly promoted Lieutenant Vaille smiling with her squad mates. Two eyes, two legs, years of service left in her.

She frowns as he places the pict back on her desk. “What do you mean, slow? I've been thriving.” She says, reaching over and tipping the picture frame face down.

He chuckles softly. “Thriving? Please. You're bored. You are excellent at what you do, but you do it by habit. I can see you don't love having to sit behind a desk.” He says, righting the picture again. “Third youngest Captain in the Ultramar Imperialis Auxilia. That isn't a woman who rests on her laurels.” He says with a knowing smile.

She frowns harder. “And, what, trying to put a leash on Leman Russ is supposed to be more fun?” She asks incredulously.

He laughs, “It certainly would let you see more action, if nothing else.” he says it cheerfully, but his expression softens when he sees her hand twitch to unconsciously rub where her bionic leg meets her muscle. “Of course, it is a favor I ask. You are free to say no.” He adds.

She grimaces. “I… I'd have to think about it, Sir. I'm sorry.” She replies, hand kneading her thigh nervously.

He smiles again. “Well, that's better than ‘No’ at least. Thank you for considering it, Wren.” He says as he rises, the chair creaking in relief. “You know where to find me when you make up your mind.” He adds as he makes his way to the door.

She gives him a nervous smile, and he nods and leaves the room.

He wants her to go babysit the primarch of the space wolves? Because he thinks she's bored? Well, she is bored. He's not wrong. Her retirement to paper pushing was not one she chose. But that is like saying “hey, you look bored, want to go hit bees nests with a stick?”

She sighs, slinking down in her chair. Her eyes find the pict on her desk he'd been looking at. Her younger, happier, more whole self grins mockingly from the frame.

She frowns and flips it face down again. Then she looked back at her piles and piles of paperwork. Menial, pointless papers no one but her would read.

Could she manage this for another 5 years? 10 years? How much paperwork does it take to cause a baseline human to lose their sanity?

She stares at the paperwork a long while, conflicted and fighting herself, before she lets out a long, tired sigh.

Guilliman looks up and smiles when he hears the doors to his office slide open and sees Wren walking in.

“Have you considered my request, Captain?” He says, sitting up straighter.

She sits at the chair across his desk with her lips pressed to a line. “Not a Captain. Can I give it a few months? Like a trial?”

He smiles wide. “That is a very fair and logical request, not-Captain. You are doing me a huge favor with this.”

Wren bites her lip. “Just a few months. I'll give it a fair shot. But if they're too… space wolves, I'd like to be able to come back.”

He nods, pulling out paperwork. “Of course, of course. I'll start the transfer and inform Leman of the plans. Can you be ready by tomorrow?”

She sighs and nods. “Yeah, I'll go pack, I guess.” She relents.

Her hand nervously kneads at her bionic leg again, and she hopes she isn't getting in over her head.

[marz-barzz]

Tell us about your primarch oc! They look super cool!

~🪲

JFYGJFMHJHRSFHNRFG FOR REALSIES??????

SO THEY'RE INSPIRED BY FEUDAL JAPAN (not as heavily inspired as Jaghatai was with the Mongolians) but I love him so much and I think asian culture is kinda cool and I wanted to do something based on that (and not white scars as much as I love them)

ANYWAY YAP TIME

--------

XXI legion

Pre-heresy; the shrouded guard, soon after falling to chaos they changed their name to the festering angels; post-heresy.

Commonly using Guerrilla tactics and stealth in forested planets

Primarch: Savik; Lord of Fauna, ancient of the blessed garden

Founded in the home planet of lord Savik; notoshibo. The people of the planet had deemed him a fertility god for his blessings as a spyker and the ability to terraform their world into a golden age of crops and all plant life.

Though he was taken from his planet given with his heavy disinterest in the imperium after multiple attempts from the emperor to persuade and challenge Savik into joining the imperium.

And much to his displeasure, adjusting to life on terra was highly difficult and became rather known for his bitterness. Though since no one on his planet had the genes for blond hair or any eyes different than brown, seeing sanguinius and Robute's hair was a strange experience for both parties and still bothers Savik (he will not get used to blonde hair and blue eyes)

The sons of savik go through a very common and spiritual process with psyker energy given through their gene sire, connecting each Astarties minds like the rootwork of mushrooms and to their Primarch. Each man of the shrouded guard could communicate without speech, information passed through their network of spyker energy.

Lemme know if y'all wanna hear more :3c

[wyn0rrific]

Vitus Lore Masterpost Thingy

i've finally decided to make a singular post dedicated to all the lore i have for (one of) my space marine oc Vitus!

Adding all the info under the cut since it's lengthy but I do hope yall enjoy reading about my lil guy!

Gen. Info:

Name: Vitus

Pronouns/Gender: He/She (Bigender)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Height: 6'11"

Affiliation: Loyalist Emperor's Children Apothecary (Pre-Heresy)

Early Childhood/Pre Great Crusade

Vitus was born on Chemos, several (Teran) years after Fulgrim's discovery. He was born with a hearing impairment that left him unable to speak properly, teaching himself how to read/write as his parents neglected him due to the constant work-to-survive cycle. Vitus and Fulgrim eventually meet after many instances of Vitus watching him from afar, amazed by Fulgrim's inhuman growth/adaptability. The interaction was awkward at first as the two couldn't understand each other. Eventually, Fulgrim understood Vitus' impairment, offering to learn/teach Vitus proper sign language as she only knew her own made up signs. Vitus was taught different forms of texts/cultures from Fulgrim, while they both learned Chemosian sign language (They essentially developed it themselves). The arrival of the Emperor overwhelmed Vitus, shocked by Fulgrim's reaction and the reveal of his status as a primarch. He begged him to bring Vitus back to Terra, exclaiming her interest in staying by his side and wanting to help the Imperium. Fulgrim eventually agrees, bringing Vitus with him, starting both of their paths in the Emperor's Children Legion.

Great Crusade Era

Vitus eventually ranks up to becoming one of the legion's apothecaries. He worked passively, spending more time in the flagship's apothecarium as requested by Fulgrim as he was worried for Vitus' safety. Within leaving Chemos and becoming an apothecary, Vitus was given hearing aids built by techmarines. This allowed Vitus to hear (somewhat) properly. However, this caused higher frequencies to sound 10x louder than normal, resulting in overstimulating him. Even with the aids, Vitus remained mute. Vitus being mainly in the apothecarium allowed him to get closer to Chief Apothecary Fabius Bile. She admired Bile, wishing to know just as much as he did while not understanding his evil intentions. During the early days of the legion, Fulgrim joked Vitus being Bile's "mini-me" as the two were seen together often/acted the same. Because of the similarities, most of the astartes stayed away from Vitus, refusing to acknowledge his impairment. Out of the entire legion, only Fulgrim, Fabius, and the Brotherhood of the Phoenix understood Vitus' signs (some were taught high gothic sign as well).

Horus Heresy Era

After the crusade on planet Murder, Vitus was sent back to Chemos to assist with the recruitment of astartes. During his absence she missed key events such as the Laer expedition and Isstvan III, dodging the fall to Slaanesh most of his brothers faced. He eventuality returns to the 28th expedition as requested by Fulgrim. He was invited by the primarch to view the opening of the La Fenice. Once arriving back, Vitus noticed many changes within the legion. Things felt... off. One of the main giveaways of the legion's corruption was the way Fulgrim treated him, being overly touchy (more than usual) and forgetting that Vitus was unable to speak. He chooses to ignore these changes, noting to speak to the primarch privately on these matters at a later time (which never comes). During the Maraviglia performance, Vitus' hearing device began to malfunction, forcing him to leave the performance hall in search of a tech marine. This results in him missing the entire performance, another bullet dodged.

The Dropsite Massacre slowly approaches, Vitus being confused by the event but not allowing his suspicions to grow as he trusted Fulgrim greatly. Isstvan V opened Vitus' eyes to the horrors of his own legion and the man he once loved/admired. He witnessed Fulgrim slaughter his own brother Ferrus Manus, frozen in horror as his entire existence flashed before his eyes. In response, Vitus attempts to flee the planet, severely overwhelmed/numbed by the battle. He runs into loyalist astartes, begging them to take her with them. Many were reluctant as Vitus beared the armor of the now traitor legion, but was taken as prisoner for questioning. Originally being sentenced to death for being a heretic, Vitus retaliated, exclaiming he'd fight for the Imperium until death as he stole a blade from a nearby astartes. He gouged out one of his eyes, attempting to mutilate himself more until he was stopped. After being probed by a Librarian Vitus is eventually kept alive.

Post Heresy/Current

Vitus' current status is unknown (at least to the public). He does everything he can to stay incognito, dyeing/cutting his hair, self mutilation, etc. Many say he is now dead/self-exiled, while other rumors speak of him serving as the Chief Apothecary of the Imperial Fist chapter, Sons of the Phoenix. He now has a deep hatred for the Emperor's Children, though he doesn't hate Fulgrim. Some say he is actively seeking out the primarch, in hopes that he's still out there alive and healthy.

[thedorkurge]

Bg3 Fic Masterlist

Default Dark Urge (Durgetash)

Heresy: Multi-chapter (Complete), Explicit, Canon timeline+pre-canon elements.

Schism: Multi-chapter, Explicit, Canon timeline+pre-canon, Gortash and Durge swap places AU

Blood in the water: One-shot, Durge and Orin sibling dynamic, Pre-canon

Goldrush: One-shot, Durge and Gortash, Pre-canon.

In loving memory: One-shot, coronation/post-coronation, Durge regains his memories.

Dead of Night: One-Shot, Durge and Gortash, Pre-canon, soft, prompt fic.

Only Human: One-Shot, Durgetash+toxic Durge/Gale, prompt fic.

Life of the Party: One-shot, Durgetash, Gortash makes Durge attend a party, pre-canon, prompt fic.

Green-eyed Monster: One-shot, jealous Durgetash, pre-canon, prompt fic.

Morbid Fascination: One-shot, Slayer form, pre-canon, prompt fic.

Mercy, Killing: One-shot, explicit, Slayer form, pre-canon, prompt fic.

The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors: One-shot, explicit, Slayer form, pre-canon, jealous Slayer.

Three I Love Yous: One-shot, Durgetash, pre-canon, prompt fic.

Kiss of Death: One-shot, Durgetash, the final sacrifice, Post-canon AU, prompt fic.

In Too Deep: One-shot, pre-canon, Gortash shows Durge the Iron Throne, prompt fic.

Stillmaker: One-shot, pre-canon, Gortash creates Stillmaker, prompt fic.

Sacrifice Worthy of a God: One-shot, pre-canon, Gortash interrupts a sacrifice, explicit.

Sweet Surrender: Multi-chapter (Complete), Explicit, canon timeline, redemption Durge saves Gortash.

Gift of Gab: One-shot, pre-canon, love confession accusation+murder attempt,

Torrek (Durgetash)

Fateful Days: Oneshot, Mature, Pre-canon, OC DU origin.

Unstoppable Force: Gortash POV, Multi-chapter, Explicit (eventually), Pre-canon, Custom Durge