#sons of the phoenix

[taythecatfey]

When dad returns but it's not who you expected it to be.

[candyswirls]

This is actually a sort of two part ask, but if you dont do those its fine. Clonegrim reuniting with Lion and Gulliman, and then Clonegrim meeting the Sons of the Phoenix for some nice bondng time (Sons of Dorn my ass, Cawl.)

I actually have story on this in the works :3 it’s just not ready yet

BUT ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE

His hair was a mess, grime and dried viscera covered him, he wore a a tattered mess of random imperial rags and a Necron style tunic.

His eyes had dark bags under them and they looked tired. It there was a look saying “I can fight and will if I must.”

Guilliman had prepared various speeches and replies to say when he saw Fulgrim. But this version? He looked younger. Had it not been for the determination in him, he would have called it pathetic

Fulgrim tried to stand tall, balancing on the spear he had.

“Roboute Guilliman,” he spoke, trying not to let his voice falter. “I am a clone of your brother, Fulgrim. I have most of his memories… before corruption. I do not know why I was made. But I am not corrupted by chaos or the warp. I will be… better than the first. He… disgusts me. I hate him. I hate what he’s become… and I hate what he stands for. I am against him. I am still loyal to the imperium and Father. I have escaped from Necron clutches and fought tooth and nail to… get here. I am still… a Primarch. I can fight… I can be useful… I am on your side… and I am…”

The clone collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily, tears pricked his eyes.

“You are exhausted,” Was the only thing Guilliman could say.

The clone looked up at him with disdain and snapped, “Of course I am! I… golden throne… I just crossed half… the galaxy! Everyone trying.. to kill me! Wouldn’t listen! I… please let it be over… Roboute… brother… please… I’m good. I swear I am. I won’t betray you. Not like him… I want to do right… I want to see father again… I just…”

There were so many things he wanted to say. To yell at him… but this wasn’t the original. This was a clone. He even looked young.

Guilliman knelt and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I do not fully trust you. I can’t. But you can rest now. You’re in my custody now.”

Fulgrim let out a sigh of relief as he collapsed forward, caught in his brother’s arms.

Their reunion was brief. Guilliman led the Lion down towards the stratagium deck.

“A clone?” He questioned. “And you trust this?”

Guilliman nodded, “We’ve been able to bond. He acts like a teenager with his age, but he’s saved my life. He is loyal. He is more like Fulgrim than the original. He will be pleased to see you.”

The door opened as they walked in.

“Are you sure?” Lion asked.

Before Guilliman could answer a voice called out, “Lion!”

Lion froze as a slightly shorter version of the third Primarch practically leapt into his arms.

He was stunned for a moment before speaking, “Fulgrim? Fulgrim!”

Excitement overwhelmed his suspicions. He hugged his brother and lifted him into the air.

“You look younger,” he laughed.

Fulgrim smiled back, “And you brother look older.”

Guilliman chuckled, “What a relief this is. I have two of my brothers back.”

All three embraced.

“I will warn you,” Calgar said. “They were most upset when they learned of who their geneseed really belonged to. Some are still in denial and insist they are sons of Dorn. Granted this was before you came back.”

Guilliman placed a hand on Fulgrim’s shoulder, “They will love you.”

The clone sighed, “I certainly hope so.”

As they exited the Thunderhawk rows of Purple, white, and Gold armor stood in neat succession. Those without helmets had pale blonde, white, or silver hair. Eyes were down shade of purple or a close blue.

Fiery imperial defiance danced in their eyes.

Fulgrim stepped forward and scanned over them.

He smiled, “You are all a sight for sore eyes. Many of you already remind me of the loyal sons of the imperium during the heresy. I am not Dorn, nor am I the original Fulgrim. But I swear unto you that I aim to rectify the originals mistakes. To be better. Now please, show me your ways and customs of your chapter. I am not here to destroy it or make you a carbon copy of the third legion. You are already better.”

Shocked expressions crossed the sons of the Phoenix’s. Yet slowly, they approached their Primarch out of curiosity and the longing for their father.

He slowly rested his hands on the shoulders of his sons as they introduced themselves.

Guilliman sighed with relief.

[lazywriter-artist]

My beloved space marine

In addition to having his betcher’s gland, warp mutation from when he was a baby means he has a paralyzing venom!!!

He had to survive on his own after being stashed away by bigger brothers before he was rescued by some imperial fists, and it mean baby Ty developed some— habits…thanks to space marine acid and venom :)

I still wouldn’t fully trust a hungry Tynan now— he’s been caught eating random animals too often—

[tagedeszorns]

Id love to know your take on the Son's of The Phoenix

They are Dorn's lot, aren't they? So they are his problem. Yeees, totally Dorn's problem here. Or what's left of him. Talk to his hand? Who knows!

Anyway .... it's always nice to have some spare gene-seed not within reach of the grubby, tainting hands of Eidolon and his malevolent figment of imagination, so it's a good idea to monitor them and keep them from getting themselves killed before harvest.

The only problem with them is that they are unfortunately quite obvious in terms of their appearance. I mean ... the name ... purple armour ... wing insignia ... ah, really not very subtle.

But luckily the decaying rest of the Imperium share three brain cells and these are currently occupied elsewhere, so no one puts one and one together.

Out of character take: I am not very fond of the idea of "loyalist Emperor's Children", because the guys are what they are and they need the pride and fall-thing and the tragic to unfold their full potential and their full charm. So my feelings towards the Sons of the Phoenix are mixed - it's okay they are out there (If "Amor Fati" taught us anything, it's that there are untouched stores for Fabius to draw from out there in the Galaxy), but GW should either use them wisely or get rid of them.

But since I don't know enough about them, to form a well-rounded opinion, I'll just sit over here playing with the original purple boys.

[wyn0rrific]

post heresy vitus designs !

lore dump/design explanation under cut since it's lengthy

Bad End ("What If?/AU): Even after seeing his primarch with the blood of his own brother on his hands, Vitus chooses to stay with Fulgrim. This eventually leads to him falling to Chaos and joining his legion (though its more of him "worshipping" Fulgrim rather than Slaanesh). While apothecaries aren't necessarily "needed" in Chaos legions, Vitus goes back and forth between working for Fabius (which most of the time resulted in him returning to Fulgrim with scars from "experiments") and staying with Fulgrim. Eventually, the primarch requests Vitus to permanently remain by his side as his presence is "comforting" in a way (maybe it reminds him of the good times? no one will ever know).

Good End (Current Timeline): After seeing the tragic death of Ferrus Manus in the hands of his own primarch, Vitus flees the battlefield and ends up running into loyalist astartes. He is captured and taken in for questioning where he proves his innocence by mutilating himself, removing his own eye to show how far he'd go for the protection of the people. He's proven loyal and years pass until he ends up becoming the Chief Apothecary for the Imperial Fists successor chapter, the Sons of the Phoenix. He becomes much more reclusive than before, remaining faceless in the public eye and constantly modifying his appearance (cutting/dyeing his hair, self mutilation, etc) so that his geneseed is forever hidden. He doesn't care for the Imperium, but rather for his pledge to serve until death and to destroy any sight of Chaos for what they did to his dearest friend.

[ladymirdan]

Got bullied into painting a Sons of the Phoenix by my local GW staff 😅💜

Still havent decided on base, but im leaning towards “beach vibes”. Also, purple without an airbrush is a fucking struggle and a half.

[misterloveletter]

[noodles-and-tea]

I’m a bit the same tbh

[taythecatfey]

Okay so it was a joke that a handful of my ocs were just white haired, or blond anime boys with purple eyes. Makes those boys perfect Son's of the Phoenix

[candyswirls]

Return of the Phoenician Part 4

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Summary: Fulgrim lands on a planet to meet up with his old legion, but something is wrong. With him.

The cargo ship rumbled quietly as it descended. It was unassuming stealth as it landed in the jungle foliage below.

The young clone took deep breaths, holding Chemy. His massaged a knee. His legs had felt stiff as of late.

He set the scarab down and waited in anticipation as the door opened. Warm humid air rushed in, mixing with the stale recycled air of the ship.

The primarch gingerly stepped out, weary of the golden armor he bore. It had the emblems of his father upon it, and his traitorous legion might attack first, ask questions later.

Surely they would recognize him and follow?

He paused as he heard tiny clicks following after him. He turned around and saw Chemy following.

"No," the primarch ordered. "Stay."

The scarab paused, then continued down the ramp.

"Chemy, turn around," he said sternly.

Chemy persisted, not hearing or not understanding.

Fulgrim scooped it up and placed it back in the ship. It immediately began crawling after him.

He rushed out and closed the door. As he went around the ship, he heard it open.

He dashed around to see Chemy, crawling down the ramp. He sighed and grabbed the scarab again.

"You can't come," he insisted.

He felt bad, but he stuck Chemy under the bed upside down. The scarab rocked and flailed its legs. It would be stuck there for a while.

He hurried out.

Rain began to pour and had already soaked his hair. He had to commend the build of custodian armor. It didn’t allow a single drop to get past his collar. It would be wise to wear his helmet, but if his sons were really here, they would need to see his face.

Gently, he stepped through the mud and leaves, listening for any movement.

He paused for a moment and found himself in an area with no canopy above him. He stared up into dark clouds. Droplets splashing against his face and cascading down unblemished skin. He may have the memories and body build of an immortal demigod... but he was merely a child. He was young. There were many things he could recall he hadn't experienced. Such as standing in the rain on some random planet in an unknown solar system.

He couldn't explain it but he liked the feeling. Being cleansed by nature.

He wasn't an untouched canvas. He was a sketch of a masterpiece that had been painted over white. Still. He had a fresh start. This was his experience. His life.

He didn't know what he was doing. The feeling was almost crippling.

He heard the cracking of twigs and leaves and drew Excalibur.

White armor burst out from bushes and rolled down next to him. A bolter was held up at the primarch.

The astartes breathed heavily and frowned, "A custodes?"

The marine's armor had purple and gold accents. The symbol on the pauldron was of a wing and helmet. Broken candles were on his power pack.

"Are you okay?" The Clone asked, reaching out as he saw blood dripping from the other's head.

The astartes flinched, "What is one of the ten thousand doing here?"

It was now or never.

"I am a primarch," He said. "Reborn and ever true to the emperor. I am fulgrim. I found a signal of my old legion and have come to recruit them back to the imperium."

The astartes kept his bolter up, "What you speak of is madness and heresy. You do not sound so sure of yourself. I don't believe you."

Fulgrim sighed, "I'm an uncorrupted clone. Deemed a failure by my creators and sent away. I refuse to be like the original. I am working through the knowledge that I am not the original. I mean you no harm. Who are you?"

The marine stared down the primarch and finally lowered the weapon.

He let out a sigh of exhaustion, "I have no choice but to trust you. I am dead either way. I am sergeant Thaedeus of the Sons of the Phoenix. Successor chapter of the Imperial Fists... actually... that is a complicated story."

The Clone looked at the white hair. Not frosty like Dorn's. Platinum and metallic, like his. He didn't have time for that.

"Where is the rest of your squad?"

Thaedeus breathed heavily, "Captured. The trai- I mean -"

Fulgrim put up his hands, "You can call them traitors. They... are."

He nodded, "The traitors are holding them in a shallow bunker, trying to lure in more of us. We've been tortured, and many of us killed. I managed to escape to find a way to send for help. But I fear I am being hunted in reality. They gave me back my armor."

"I will free them," Fulgrim promised.

"How?"

"I am a primarch. They will recognize me and that I have the aura of one. Some have followed me before. They will listen."

Thaddeus leaned against a tree, "I pray to the God-Emperor that you are truthful. You are our only hope right now."

"What's your only hope?" Cackled a voice.

Both turned to see a legionaire in pink armor move out from the undergrowth. Horns growing out of a warped head. A bolter was trained on the Son of the Phoenix as the Emperor's Child grinned fiendishly. His eyes landed on the clone, and his smile dropped.

"My-my Primarch," he gaped. "You are here... in your original form."

Fulgrim smiled, "Hello. Tell me your name."

The astartes paid no mind to the loyalist as he surged forward and took one of the primarch's hands.

He knelt and kissed it.

"Praise be to the dark prince! It is me, Bors!"

"Will you follow me?" Fulgrim asked.

"Anywhere," He swore.

"Good. We need to free the imprisoned astartes that are the brothers of this one here."

Bors nodded, not doubting his liege for a moment.

Thaedeus gaped, shocked at how quickly one of his captors was willing to help.

"You-you-you-you stupid bastard!" He yelled at Bors. "You've held and tortured us for weeks! Slowly killing us off one by one! Then your primarch shows up, and you completely switch your perogative?!"

"Yes," Bors answered immediately. "You would too."

The Son of the Phoenix opened and closed his mouth before deciding not to push further.

Something about his facial expression reminded Fulgrim of a pouting puppy.

"This way, my liege," Bors bowed and motioned the way he came.

Fulgrim intook a deep breath and followed him. Thaedeus trailed behind.

***

He was both impressed and bewildered at the distance Thaedeus had run. He must have been desperate. Bors had rode a cycle out to catch up to him.

It was hours before they reached the encampment and bunker the Son of the Phoenix had spoken of. The astartes was weary. His time imprisoned had weakened him, and a limp had grown apparent. Fulgrim took to supporting them as they entered.

An Emperor's Child jeered as they approached, "You caught the little morsel, and it looks like you also got - My Lord!"

Several others craned to see what their brother was speaking of as he dropped to his knees.

Fulgrim stepped out of the foliage. The encampment grew silent as they froze or also took a knee.

"My primarch..."

One astartes managed to move forward, "You... you are here, but... you are different?"

The Clone took a deep breath, "I am an uncorrupted clone of the Primarch Fulgrim. I am Fulgrim but not fallen, created by Fabius Bile. I found your signal and came to recruit you back to the imperium. I came to get you. Will you follow me?"

A legionaire with a conelike head jumped up and popped one foot in the air as he clasped his face. He giggled gleefully, "Yyyyyeeeeesss!!"

He practically skipped over to the primarch, others following.

Some nodded their heads, and others declared their loyalty. A few crawled forward on their knees, crying and begging for forgiveness.

Thaedeus gaped at the scene.

"You dare follow a knockoff?" Scoffed a voice.

His hearts sank.

A captain stood off to the side, arms folded.

Conehead immediately jumped to defend, "You dare speak blasphemy of our lord when he is returned to us?"

"He admitted he's not our Primarch," growled the captain. "Just one of the mad doctors experiments."

He glared at Fulgrim. The look was hurtful.

"I still have most of the memories, and I have the aura of a primarch," the primarch spoke with a warning. He hoped none of his anxiety came through.

Another added, "We will find the original. With the song of Slaanesh-"

Through a speaker on his face, a third snapped, "But he's here! Without that stupid song!"

Tension crackled.

The previous hissed, "Dysseus, you dare doubt the dark prince?"

"We have a chance for something better," added Bors. "A chance to return... home."

The captain interrupted, "You will never be beautiful again! Do you think the imperium would accept your sorry face?? After everything?"

He couldn't allow this to press further. He could see the words hurt some of them. Others were weary with their decision. Thaedeus was digging his fingers into his arm out of fear.

"Enough," Fulgrim Barked. "I will not have this. The imperium will accept you. Because I accept you. We can go. Let the Sons of the Phoenix go, and we can travel together."

The captain stared a moment and then walked forward. A path parted for him.

He stared up at Fulgrim. The Phoenician reached out a hand in solace.

The captain pointed his flamer at the Primarch, "I doubt it."

Fulgrim gritted his teeth. Those who had not immediately come over drew their weapons as well.

"What are you doing?!" Another legionaire demanded.

"Shut up," the captain hissed. "You think you're so grand? Waltzing in here like you own us?"

"I don't -" He tried to protest.

The captain wouldn't let him speak, "I am Captain Antioch, and I am in charge here. I follow Slaanesh, not you! You are not our primarch, and you will be staying. I'm certain you'll fetch a fine price."

"Fine," the primarch sighed.

"My lord!" Bors protested.

Antioch nodded, "Good, now -"

In a singular movement, Fulgrim swung Excalibur forward and sliced through the fuel line. Then he held the blade to Antioch's neck.

"You are foolish to assume that I do not have the skills my predecessor has," He growled.

Antioch stared up in defiance and shock. Those who stood with him froze, moving their weapons back and forth, unsure of how to proceed.

Electricity ran up his arm. By the throne... no... his hand tensed, and the sword slowly fell from his grip. His body wouldn't listen to him. His legs gave out, and he was on the ground.

Antioch growled as he grabbed his combat knife. Those with him were about to leap in front of him.

A shot rang out, barely audible.

Antioch flinched, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He flopped forward, drool dripping out the corner of his mouth. A metal bullet with feathers stuck out of the back of his neck.

"Oh, damn," said Conehead.

Terminator armor moved out into the open with a long and thin bolter that smoked at the end.

He had milky white eyes and almost grayish skin. What little hair he had left with thin and wispy. It flitted through the air as he moved. Scars like lighting covered his skin.

Fulgrim recognized him instantly.

"Hebe."

Hebe responded with a raspy voice, "I haven't been called that in a long time. It is good to see you, Lord Fulgrim."

Antioch grunted and struggled to move. His eyes bulged, and he was beginning to resemble Magnus in skin color.

"What did you do to him?" The clone questioned.

"Tranquilizer," he answered.

Hebe glanced around, "I suggest you all move quickly before he becomes coherent."

"What madness is this?" Demanded another brother, weapon still drawn.

Hebe walked right up to him and snatched away the bolter. He trembled.

"You're an idiot," He said.

"What?"

Hebe turned around to another, "Our primarch. The original. He never wanted us. He was a miserable wretch who thought perfection would be the key to happiness. He fell to a damned possessed blade. He doesn't want us or want us to find him. He only shows up if he needs us to do his dirty work. Get it through your thick heads! Our primarch hates us! You're just in denial. We have just been given the miracle of a lifetime. Go release the prisoners and bring them aboard the ship. Be prepared to leave in half an hour. Now!"

He couldn't explain it, but Fulgrim felt his hearts breaking. Especially as he saw those who had pledged themselves to him hurry to follow the orders.

Hold it together. Hold it together. Stop being a failure! Come on! You haven't done anything wrong? What did I do wrong? What did I do?

Breathe. Focus. Analyze the situation. He still couldn't get up. His legs were locked.

"My liege?" Bors questioned. "Are you alright."

He managed to mumbled out, "What have I done wrong?"

He wanted to swear. Emotion had come through.

Hebe sighed and approached.

"Antioch is just angry," he said. "He will relax with time. We have enough room for you and the Sons of the Phoenix. An apothecary will check you. While you rest up, we will take care of everything. Some will need to warm up a bit to you. You'll be well taken care of."

He could feel his throat tighten. HE was the primarch. HE should be leading.

Yet he didn't protest.

"I have a cargo ship I was using," he said quietly.

"We'll send someone to fetch it," Hebe assured.

"There's a scarab on there," he added. "His name is Chemy. Don't harm him."

"Of course. My lord?"

"Yes?"

"Can you look at me?"

He blinked, realizing he'd been staring at the ground. He finally met Hebe's gaze.

The terminator sighed, "You are merely just a child. Solace, escort him to the Thunderbird. Assist as needed."

Conehead, who was Solace, nodded.

Fulgrim found himself sitting on the floor of a small ship. He stared forward. His sword had been given back to him. He was loaded up with Thaedeus' brothers. While they reunited and were told everything, he blocked them out.

Dysseus knelt before the primarch.

"Fulgrim?" He asked cautiously. "Are you alright? What happened?"

His lip trembled, and tears welled. All the attention was drawn to him. He'd accomplished what he wanted. He freed Thaedeus and his brothers. The Emperor's Children were on his side. Why did he feel this way? What did he do wrong? Why wasn't his body listening to him?

No, he had failed. Something was wrong, and he had failed. He'd just been taken prisoner, essentially. The way Hebe had talked to him.

He didn't understand it. Just like when Teacher gave him away.

"What did I do wrong?" He choked. "What did I do wrong?"

He broke into sobs on Dysseus chest, the astartes arms wrapped around him.

"It's alright. It is noble to cry. Let your emotions run free."

"WHAT THE-" Yelled someone from outside.

He looked outside to see his ship slowly and shakily approaching. It wobbled side to side.

"That your ship?" Solace asked while pointing.

Fulgrim nodded, unsure how to react.

It landed with the bay doors facing them. After a few moments of powering down, the doors opened, and Chemy came crawling down the ramp. He was on a mission.

Fulgrim covered his mouth as laughing mixed with more tears. He reached out to pick up the scarab and held him to his chest.

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[lazywriter-artist]

My sweet son of the phoenix who is definitely not having an existential crisis pls brother don’t call the Chaplin I’m fine—

Tynan Aligos

You could’ve just asked for a haircut bud-

Let’s go take a walk, okay champ?

Woagh deathwatch daycare mention

You know it’s bad when he goes to bed with his beloved long hair and you wake up and his ass is almost bald

Ty please no- you’re worrying the serfs

Imperial fist baby sitting the up and coming new chapter ‘sons of the pehonix’ Neophyte Tynan Aligos

🐦‍🔥- Brother? Do you ever feel like a bird taught to swim by beavers? 👊- … u h- birds cannot be taught by beavers?

[kbondoxxxxav]

second round one piece character request from twt

[littlewormspatthegoblin]

the lesser known Sons of the Phoenix breed IS NOT part of the Emperor’s Children genus. they are pure * checks notes * they are pure imperial fists.

they were simply bred to display many popular Emperors Children traits while being more docile and easier for first time astartes owners to care for.

As EC’s are very demanding and intensive with strict dietary needs, care routines and need constant stimulation to keep them entertained.

My little Ampliflux Dominatius is a pedigree Noise Marine and will cease making aggressive bassy siren wails (a sign of depression in noise marines) and scratch up sofa if he isn’t given a new sensory toy every day or if he hasn’t received his bowl of caviar and gold dust for breakfast.

post your astarteskeeping takes that will have you like this

I'll go first: I don't think it's possible to ethically keep thousand sons as pets. I know they're popular for their beauty and intense hobbies but their social needs are incredibly complex and hard to meet even for professional keepers, not to mention the psychic aspect

[mint-mango]

nick finally got him to wear the shirt yippee

prev

[doctorsiren]

Various doodles from this week

[nyree2712]

Top Gun - Incorrect Quote 319

Rooster and Hangman: Quick! Who's your favourite?

Maverick: *Looking bored because it's the 45 time in the week that they asked* Natasha

Phoenix: *In the background* AW YEAH LOSE-

Maverick: Hold on she call me older yesterday... I change my mind It's Bob

Bob: *Quietly* Suck on that, fuckers