#2lim3rz writes

[sillysucho]

Of Me and Mine - 40k Emperor of Mankind x Reader

@missmannequin + @liar-anubiass-blog - Because your compliments gave me motivation to write something. It's small and quick, but I hope you enjoy!

Original ask HERE

OF ME AND MINE - No warnings, just Sucho writing the Emperor being a lil bit unsettling to Reader lmao

The semi-skeletal smile was soft, a sight that made your stomach churn but you had no knowing if it was from the absolute dread of being near such an immaculate being. Your mind wanted to muster the word 'creature' but you found it being dashed away.

'You've waited.' the voice was a thunderstorm in your mind. It was thousands of soothing bells. It was the whisper of a breeze. Your skin still felt so cold and so hot.

"W..waited?" You were surprised to find yourself able to speak. As if something had unlatched a lock in your throat. As if saliva was given permission to wet your tongue to give speech.

Yet you found your surroundings whirl. A dazzlingly heavy cloak unfurling in the air as the Emperor abruptly marched with you in tow. Your feet stumbled, were you walking or being carried?

Something.. something about the Emperor sent your mind into a pit, howling and clawing and screeching. You were reduced from human to beast. To your most basic instincts and in what felt to be seconds, you heard the slamming of the palace doors.

A cage.

Like any caged creature, your instincts reeled. You found the will to twist and turn and stare at the impossibly massive doors. Doors you never would have had the ability to get close to. Time was slipping, skipping like unruly children at play. Unwilling to slow down or stop.

"My.. shift.." Belatedly you eked out. In the corner of your vision you saw the near-mummified face of the Emperor tilt lightly with multiple afterimages following.

"Cancelled. You are of my retinue, my entourage. Of me and mine." You couldn't pull away from the sight of closed doors. Of unseen servants that hid themselves on some unspoken cue.

It.. made sense. After all, was the Imperium not of he and his?

"Not quite so far reaching." Somehow you captured the thrashing serpent that was your instincts and looked up, just as one boney finger caressed your chin. He had read your very mind? The only thing that was truly yours in this world?

"Of me and mine." The tone was lower, you felt a brush of the inner authority that was his intangible greater will. The thing that made him feel so Other.

"Yes, Emperor." You were hushed. Unsure of what to say, do, even think. Just how human was this man?

[sillysucho]

Imagine being from a world in Warhammer 30k which was sort of like Lorgars world where they worshipped the Chaos gods, but instead of worshipping them the Reader and their clan instead have honed and perfected the art of summoning and subjugating the various types of Chaos daemons. Like to the point where Nurgle daemons are used to improve fertility in cattle/crops, Khorne daemons are used as guard/attack dogs, and so on. How would the Primarchs/Big E react to their s/o being capable of this?

This definitely fits with my sorta view that.. I mean, Chaos does have its inevitable place in the world. And it has been established that with the whole belief system, there are minor 'gods' that sort of exist. But Chaos is a culmination of everything (and it happens in grimdark dystopia that it all sucks)

But we have been shown good sides of Chaos (or at least told OF them). With Slaanesh's pleasure (and pain does have its place in the world) [with Steeds being a good example because.. I mean they don't really actively do anything malicious, they're just curious titty raptors that like to vibe]; Khorne's honor (and bloodshed, because he IS the Warrior god) [and most things I see of Khorne are low-key pretty mechanical as well]; Tzeentch is ambition and psychic powers (both of which are important in the society of 30/30k and general life); and Nurgle's mortality (as well as disease having its place) [as well as rot and decay i.e mushrooms having its belonging in the food chain]

I'd imagine there's an UNDIVIDED tribe/settlement (going with tribe in assuming this is also a nomadic world similar to Colchis) as well as a tribe corresponding to each separate god (I can elaborate more but tl:dr: the khornate god takes in exiles/willing followers and uphold the Dedications of the Blood in which they attack the other tribes while dressing themselves similar to the daemons this also aids [unintentionally] in keeping the population down)

In saying this, I'd probably say it'd function closer to this: Nurgle - Sacrificial uses are plant based and generally the end of a life (i.e composition n such) while not many of his daemons are used, he's certainly revered enough

Slaanesh - The arts generally, but daemons are used to aid in performances or even arcetecture however you spell it lmao. No sacrifices so much as dedications and performances

Khorne - Sacrifices and Dedications. Honor aspect is leaning towards upholding laws.. in a sense. Laws being more eye-for-an-eye in this case. Daemons are used to aid in combat and transportation

Tzeentch - Lowkey.. a lot of things sort of goes with Tzeentch. Daemons are very versatile with this one. Sometimes takes sacrifices, sometimes dedications. Very unsure?

Note: Just Leman, Magnus,and Lorgar this go around cause I just had ideas for them and for simplicity's sake, the planet is called.. Let's call it Asybor (a-SIGH-boar)

Your world.. was one of peace. Similar to many worlds and yet.. oh was it so different. For the taint of the warp was upon it, so they said.

You were a Fraslen; a Sky Speaker. Runes were both carved and tattooed into your body.. yet they were artful and done with precision. A curling ball of flame upon your head, a horned triangle of sorts upon your breast alongside three loops with three coiled arrows and upon your back was a circle with a semicircle arrow split in half with another semicircle. These were only the largest however.. All of them curling into each other like beautiful holding hands.

You were nearly barren of clothes this time of year. Loose transparent cloths floated akin to ghosts on your body, with golden sandals protecting the soles of your feet across the hard ground.

You heard it; the songs, the cheers.

You saw it; the blaze of piercing light in the air, the sight of something falling into your planet.

You felt it; as if you were dipped into one of the warming rivers in the northern passes, a feeling washing over your mind.

Something was there..

LEMAN RUSS

It's the great crusade and.. admittedly even this planet was a bit out of his reach. Yet something told him that he needed to be here. It had to be seen. It was a yet to be conquered planet and scans deemed it to be.. suspiciously empty. There were readings of some animals but little else.. and upon a planet so green and clearly rich with life? It was off.

Until he and his ship of Space Wolves landed. Of course, all you knew was that you had to welcome this.. whatever it was. And at first your eyes and your mind were at war with each other. In fact, you had fallen to your knees the moment you beheld the men in strange armors.. their height rivalled the Kortons, their regality was unmatched to those of the Slaniths.

They had surprise as well. Scans showed nothing of human presence; yet here one was.. bearing symbols that made the mind ache.. the soul wander dangerously. Leman Russ.. was having none of it

But.. he was curious. And Curiosity was a dangerous thing. Being the closest thing to the planet's ambassador, you would lead them. And gladly tell them of everything. Why should anything be secret to your brothers of the stars?

You were greeted with skepticism, when you had shown them the elegantly made tents of the Cliff Treaders with their mounts of great winged beasts, they were astounded. Even more shocked when the burden-beasts could even carry one of the warriors upon its back

Yet the Giant one, the Wolf as he called himself was wary.. if not interested in what you had to show. What dangers there were. The only threat upon them was a foolish pack of Kortons that had challenged them. It was a joyous moment to discover how similar aspects of your cultures were: myths, foods, the nomadic traveling of your natures, the worship of nature with respect and wary fear.

You spent most of your time with the Great Wolf; the Star Hunter, Leman Russ..

Enough to gift him with a hand painted figure upon a sky-stone. A gleaming figure of him with painfully bartered paints from the Slaniths. The gifts of Fraslens were extremely few since they had to be Neutral in most things. Especially upon a stone only taken from upon one of the Pilgrimages

There was pain in his eyes when he accepted it

And you couldn't fathom why as he turned his back upon you. Not knowing just how you and your planet's entire precious culture would have to be disintegrated, less they faced His wrath.

MAGNUS THE RED

The primarch that had arrived.. stole your breath away. Where in Leman's case, you were overwhelmed by the presence of such withheld ferocity and the appearance of primality contained.. with Magnus it is conflicting. Massive and regal, but at the same time something was innately Off about him. His soldiers were of similar..

Yet unlike the other primarchs (with exception to perhaps Konrad or Perturabo), with Magnus you felt.. as if there was a chance.

Magnus, and many of the Thousand Sons no doubt (tell me if this is wrong because I am not a Magnus expert) is a scholar. The usage of the.. Warp in natural day-to-day life was astounding! It was..

It was similar to his home. The feeling of.. magic everywhere. Permeating the very soils of the ground itself. Even if he had to get used to the fact that his first meeting with the inhabitants was.. very nude

You lead him everywhere you could, equally fascinated by the technologies he brought with him. He took great interest in the song-tales of the Slaniths, and the story-weavers of the Za'leech.

He was even more interested in the patterns across your body. Struggling to ignore the way that his staring eye made you want to shiver and hide yourself in the most curious of ways. Interested in how each rune, each symbol and picture.. was a testament of your trials and story. Everything from your birth to your current time was put upon you in excruciating detail

Fraslens held no secrets of who they were

So he was stunned when you offered yourself to be an 'Ambassador' of your people. You had already done so much, translating his alien words to your people (with the help of other called-upon Fraslens and exception to the Slaniths and Za'leech who seemed to already Know his words just as much as you did)

You would leave your planet? Abandon everything to represent your people?

It hurt Magnus. It tore him in two. He needed to bring this planet into compliance. To record it but- To do that would shred everything apart.. everything was so harmonious and.. why it was..

All planets took compliance differently. Some peaceful, some not. Some by force and some by underhanded means and.. Why did this world make him so hesitant? Was it the feeling of a home away from home?

Either way. It was a difficult choice. And one had to be made.

LORGAR AURELIAN

It was not the massive deserts of home, nor was it Khur but.. it was a beauty in its own right. Sprawling greenery stretched out before him, segregated by rings of mountains as though many hands eons ago had carved many bowls into its surface

You were the first to greet him.. and he was stunned perhaps just as much as you were. It wasn't every day that someone walked around naked and he had gotten used to the different culture of the Imperium.

Lorgar was silent through the first time he was lead about. Marching with ginger steps with Kor Phaeron and Erebus as you spoke. Multiple times he had to silence his compatriots.. well just Kor Phaeron. Erebus was silent. Lurking. Leering.. planning. His son was always.. off

You were showing him the peaceful and the wrathful. Explaining it all. The Kortons upon their metal-backed land beasts as they ravaged a splinter group that had sought to sow chaos upon the lands. Slanith performances in the evenings and celebrating.. everything; from the births of life, to even just the rains that the Four had blessed them with. The Norngat with their meanderings ponderous ways. Slow; displaying the dedications to caring for the land and unchanging will of nature. The Za'leech, with their mystery and intrigue cause of it. Sparkling the sky with elaborate displaces of wonderous images or serving as the wise soothsayers

Everything was a fascination to Lorgar. No blade of grass was left unexplained

Even if your time was unknowingly threatened to be cut short.. this.. this peace..

It couldn't be had.

It couldn't last.

Not if he could help it. Yet.. No.. he could always turn this further against the Emperor. To sate the lust his Gods had to ruin the formidable Enemy.

After all... is Chaos.. is the warp really so bad if humanity could so clearly live peacefully beside it? Isn't this what Lorgar and the Cult preached?

[sillysucho]

Warhammer 30k Emperor x Reader is quite popular but think about 40k Emperor x Reader. Many have said how the emperor, despite claiming that he was a human and not a god, behaved so much like the latter. So consider him rising from his throne after so many centuries, weakened and well… horrifying. Did people really think he was going to return looking like a normal person? Because he didn’t. He of course still had his charming voice (though raspy after thousands of years of not using it) and his golden eyes. But it wasn’t as beautiful when paired with the body of a walking corpse.

At least that’s what you thought. Nobody else seemed to care, they gazed at him and praised him and welcomed their ruler into their lives. Nobody seemed to give a shit that he was 12 foot tall monster, wasn’t he exactly like the beasts and demons of heresy that the inquisition warned us about?? Why did your neighbours flock to him when he paraded around the streets, why did they grasp at his hands with awe (even when one of them was just bone), and why did he look towards your direction (how could you even know he looked at you? He was so far away and covered in so much fabric and jewellery), and why did you see him smile at you?

The beginning is a reference to a little thing I wrote eons ago! You can find it here! [ LINK ]

Some warnings: Mild description of a panic attack

He knows. He knows that you had seen his gaze even from so far away.. He knows that you felt the instant gut wrenching fear and worshipful mania all felt when in his physical presence.

Yet you know. Your sane mind knows he wasn't looking directly at you, surely. For he is the Emperor. The God Emperor and Risen Savior of Mankind. All quiver before him, even his one of his most beloved sons, Roboute Gulliman (oh how many stories have you heard of him?)

However your instincts truly have knowledge in what your mind is hoping isn't happening. The long pause in his parade. The staring. The flesh-not-flesh crinkling in a macabre smile before you ran.

Your dreams were nightmares of eldritch things. Of colors so unknown and unseen that everything was grey in them. Of swirling colors and shapes.. of things that did not act the way they should nor shouldn't function but did. Touches, sensations. Feelings that should not happen.. Before there was a flash of gold.. As if you were thrown into a vat of cold water. You could breath and when you awoken..

You could breath. You were alive. Your skin was on your flesh, your flesh was on your bones, and your bones were of biological what-nots instead of painful needles. You were you. You were alive. You were human..

You knew what the gold was. The flash of bone encased in undulating flesh as it tried to stretch over its framework. You knew the reason of why every breath you took it was a blessing.

So you walked. It did not matter that you were in your night clothes, that your feet were growing raw and blooded. You walked. It did not matter that the Palace was miles away and the journey was treacherous; you walked.

Only when day arose did you return home to cry. Why? You wondered. Why was the terrifying so heavily worshipped. Why was it hard to breath? Why were you so lightheaded?

These why's began to grow, to multiply. Becoming multitudes until you could do nothing in your tiny home (that did nothing but make you feel even smaller) but gasp for air.

The onslaught only stopped when you found yourself waking up. Neck hurting from the awkward way you had curled into the corner. Everything ached, everything hurt.

Yet you had to leave. You dressed hurriedly.

You threw what credits you had left. Tossing practically everything away to get yourself to a spot you could view him best.

And sure enough. After his grandiose speech (was the talks of taking the fight to the enemy always so daunting?), he turned his head (was.. it always so corpse-like?) and looked upon you (Were you always so.. small?)

You felt it. Felt him. Felt the presence of a god touching the mind of someone feeble. Akin to the touch so doubt an insect felt when it was grabbed by a human. Small. So small. Fragile.. too fragile. Miniscule. Nothing.

Go.

Was that your thoughts? You swore your instincts said to run away and scream. Yet you moved. You had too. For too long those nightmares plagued you; hurt you even.

So you moved. Onward and onward as if a servitor upon its track. Unwavering.

It took.. quite some time (was everything always so.. large?) until you found yourself frozen stiff. Until you found yourself looking up into the purest gold.

It was not warm, as the Emperor was always said to be in some cases. It was not forthcoming. It was nowhere near kind.

You realized then, that perhaps everything was a warning as you stared up from your knees. Practically breaking your back backwards to look up at him. Even as he stretched out his hands to encase yours and gently pull you up even if it felt as if ice was burning your skin away.

He is the God-Emperor of Mankind.

And he was not the savior you all hoped he would be.

[sillysucho]

So it’s me again, the one who first asked about all of the emperor of mankind imagines and asks and I recently came back into the fandom. Alas all of your Yandere asks is/are amazing and I was wondering about your take on a reader escaping Yandere Emps? Like they escape and evade all of his attempts to capture them though sheer luck and will, but he still lovingly tortures them in their sleep. Anything from bribes, feral possessives, to anger, anything, and yet they don’t give in, don’t give away their location, until they let slip one tiny detail about the planet they are inhabiting.

YOU HAUNT ME ANON, GOOD JOB. SEND ME MORE EMPEROR X READER VHA IDEAS.

Your dreams were once haunted by flashes of the unknown. Of the vague and eldritch.. but now they were haunted with gold and bones. With wires sinking into your flesh and a myriad of voices all sounding deeply masculine.

"My sweet dove," it would murmur into your ears "come to me once more and I will grant you your wishes. You may walk more of my halls and explore any planet you wish to see. You will have the most luxurious of goods and the most comforting of beds to sleep upon. Only the best for you, my love." Comforting. Gentle. Tempting.

Other dreams were darker. Of oppressively opulent halls and beautiful clothes that drowned you. Of skeletal hands that tore into your flesh and a thundering voice roaring so loudly; loud enough so that when you woke up, you could not hear for minutes at a time.

"I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING, YOU THIEVING WRETCH. WHORING YOUR MIND, YOUR SOUL SO THAT YOU AVOID MY GENTLE TOUCHES."

Frightening and fearful, so that you wanted to run once more. They hadn't found you yet. He hasn't found you yet. Your dreams were always so fickle and yet you were prideful that you were somehow coherent enough to ward any thoughts of your current 'home' away from Him.

"I worry for you, my heart. I need you, I yearn for you. Even my most trusted warriors and advisors ask where you have been."

It was the sad ones that tore your heart the hardest. That made you awaken crying. You cried a lot these days anyways. Everything was so tolling on your mind. The smallest thing would send you bawling. You were only lucky to be some no body in some hive-world. Hiding in a not-quite-house not-quite-shelter.

And yet, you knew that when you awoke to Arbites pulling you to your feet and yanking you sternly to the spires above that you had failed yourself. That your mind betrayed you. What had you thought? What- Maguttol fruit. An underground delicacy that only found the will to grow on the planet you found. Something that was bitter and felt like eating snot but delicious and nourishing if you were starved.

The moment the Arbites supporting you let go, you fell to your knees only to be dragged up again by an Ultramarine the second you tried to sprint for it. Thrashing your malnourished body and wailing as if you were being burned alive.

Anything! Freedom in suffering was butter than captivity in safety! You howled your displeasure until your voice broke. Until you could do nothing but bleat out croakily. Until you were placed before the Emperor once again. Feeling the gaze of a godly thing that beheld you in mixed emotions.

Feeling the gilded cage wrap around you ever tighter as his skeletal fingers lightly lifted your chin, and mummified lips pressed against yours.

[sillysucho]

BLANK SLATE BEGINNINGS (40K FIC THING) (OC X HORUS LUPERCAL)

Tomfoolery in the dms happened so have a Sibley x Horus fic because I yearn for big men and small women

There were no words at the time to describe whatever Sibley was. No words except the most scandalous type; cursed.

Given that religion and beliefs of the sort were more or less outlawed, it was the worst sort of insult.

But Sibley was used to it. She was by no conventional means beautiful, perhaps she had a possibility, but it had long passed. Her face and most of her body was torn asunder with poorly healed burns, her nose was bent from an equally daunting gouge in the middle, and several smaller scars speckled her body like gruesome freckles. Her eyes weren't even similar; one brown and one green. The only thing she bothered with was the bleached stripe of blonde hair in her otherwise half-shaved head.

So it was by raw miracle surely, that she ended up serving as one of the many untold underlings in the gilded halls of the Emperor himself. She never was going to question how she had ever gotten there. Never. Her focus was better placed upon her job. Better placed upon ignoring how people refused to work near her.

She was used to the treatment. For as long as she remembered, none enjoyed her presence. From where she knelt at an open floor panel, she stroked the oddly smooth texture of her quartered face. Smearing some oil from the coolant lines upon it. An absent habit of a absent mind.

Sighing, Sibley replaced her screwdriver and lifted a wrench. She needed to get this done. While it wasn't the most well-travelled of halls, it was certainly enough to warrant some form of rush. If only to avoid the terrifying golden soldiers.

Of course, given Sibley's track record of any form of luck.. her work was interrupted by footsteps. Heavy enough she assumed at first that it was one of the Custodians but.. somehow it wasn't. It didn't have the same drumming rhythm that their great marching steps had. It was measured yet still sith enough of a pause to have her do a doubletake over her shoulder.

It was a massive man treading down the halls. Upon him was a long ornate billowing crimson cloak belted to him with a massive orange eye that seemed ever staring. Under that was a shirt of chainmail softly jingling with each gargantuan step. His belt was the whitest color she had ever seen, corners gilded in gold with another one of those massive eyes. At his side was a sword that no human thing but him could wield, his right hand encased in a white and gold gauntlet. The left bore a simple wristband.

Another jingling noise alerted her to a series of coins upon his belt, he was too far for her to see what was upon them. Yet part of her thought the.. almost loincloth-esque structuring of leather looked absurd with the puffed out dark grey pants and the furred boots. Not that.. she judged it too much. Even if she self-consciously pulled her own sleeves down and hiked the collar of her uniform up.

She forced herself to look away. To bury herself in her work and away from the impressive man. Perhaps feeling it a touch odd that she didn't feel the rumored effects some of the more out-there workers whispered about when dealing with the massive men. Other than it was uncanny how well.. big they were.. and until this moment she hadn't realized how handsome. Even if it was a brief glimpse-

"Pardon me, I nearly stepped on you there." A warm yet deep and sonorous voice spoke. A shiver rushed down her spine just as much as confusion made her tremble. Why was he speaking to her? No one spoke to her unless they were forced to. Even before her scars it had been like that. So when she looked up to see a kindly (if not overly handsome) face, she couldn't figure out if she was blushing or paling.

"Gh- It's fine." Her voice was more tense, more rude than what she meant it to be. Yet it was unheard of for apologies to be directed to her. She felt as if she wanted to knock herself over with the wrench in her hand. She was more than certainty blushing now. Staring up at his face like she was. Seeing their true differences. A jaw lightly coated in dark stubble cracked into a grin. It was hard to decide if she wanted to look away or stare into those dark eyes of his. Was his head really as smooth as it looked from down where she was?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd have assumed you weren't good around people." His voice, smooth as gold, was a shattering force to her bewildered mind. Forcing herself to look away, she floundered for a moment at her predicament. She was being disrespectful. She should be in trouble. Not.. having someone speak to her so casually. It was horribly uncanny having someone speak to her as one spoke to a friend.

"'M not." She whispered grumpily to herself. Whipping her head upwards again as he chuckled. How did he hear her?!

"Is that why you're working in this hall?" He mused. That gentle smile still upon his face. It left her more.. just more conflicted. He was certainly shattering a personal record of people willing to be around her asides from whatever thing decided to make sure she lived childhood. Gripping the wrench tightly in one hand, Sibley gave a vague sweeping gesture of her hand.

"...No one likes working this hall. Floor panels get stuck. Not enough malfunctions or priority to justify two man teams." No one appreciated working alone most times. Not in such grandiose halls. Not where one mistake would have the techies breathing on your neck faster than you could say 'frag off'. Not only did you have to work fast, you had to be meticulous.

"Ah, I see. So you are using your job to hide from everyone else?" The man tilted his head down at her before abruptly kneeling down. Bending over to look into the large open panel "You should possibly tighten that bolt on the secondary."

Sibley sputtered for a moment. Suddenly uncomfortable by the proximity of the man. People only got that close when they were crammed in a small room. Her eyebrow twitched as she gawked before huffing and doing as he suggested. Surprisingly, it was actually loose. And it prevented a later malfunction to occur.

"I could say the same about you, you know." Hesitantly, she spoke up. Not daring to eye the man in fear of repercussion. Wincing at the chuckle he gave to her remark. She expected punishment.. not.. this. "How did you have me figured out?" The question was unexpected as she looked up at him once more. Staring up at him even though he had bowed so low. Completely engulfing her entire view.

"..No reasonable person in rich clothes like that walks in the deeper halls. N-Not that they're not allowed to! They just.. don't." she found herself awkwardly sputtering towards the end. Shifting the wrench closer to her so she could hold it in both hands with a frown. Watching the curious expression on the man's face as he hummed low.

"So I've been caught red handed. You're not going to turn me in, are you?" the question confused her as he told it in a lively way. Was he serious? Was this a joke? "..No?" The curious sparkle in his eyes never went away as he rested one arm upon his raised knee. "Don't you know who I am?" the question was out of the blue. Of course she didn't. If she watched the charts for who was entering and who was leaving, she'd be out of work for hours. Never mind wasting precious sleeping (sewing her several-times-mended clothing) time to watch the news. Slowly shrugging, Sibley despised the feeling of being in a spotlight. She just wanted the handsome man to go along on his merry way and so she can waste the rest of her day like usual.

Though those thoughts paused at the genuine surprise that appeared on his face. Tilting his head back in laughter and shaking it. His shoulders trembling before he resumed grinning down at her. "You have to be pulling my leg. You work in the Emperor's castle and yet don't know me?" The incredulous tone made Sibley's skin tingle all over as she stuck out her lips in a pout. Glaring at him with no heart in it as embarrassment chewed at her. Last thing she needed was an uppity noble laughing at her.

"No. Too busy to. I need to get back to work before I get in trouble anyways." Sibley gritted out. She should have known she'd get mocked in the end. If it wasn't from being avoided like she was some plague-pest, it'd be insults because of her face or the subtle (or more than) limp she'd gain on bad days.

"My apologies," she stopped moving at those words as she was stunned to silence "It's just that lately I haven't encountered anyone else on Terra that didn't know me." How was she meant to respond to that? Relaxing the death-grip she had. Sibley realized how tense she was until that moment. Having enough will to resist raising the wrench in the name of self defense as the man extended a hand.

Looking from hand to oddly friendly face; blinking slowly as she did. She waited another awkward moment as he spoke. "Then let me introduce myself, ma'am. I am Horus Lupercal, Lord of the Luna Wolves." vaguely some of it rang a bell in her mind. Though she still stared at his hand.. Ever so reluctantly letting go of the wrench to shake his. Still somehow surprised that he was warmer than the average human was or that his callused hand wrapped hers with complete gentleness. "Sibley.. of nothing." She threw the flair in perhaps a little dramatically. Even if the man.. even if Horus's kindly face shifted the handshake to hold her hand by the fingers. Raising it (and lowering himself further) to lightly brush his lips across her skin. Briefly her thoughts ruefully drifted to horror that he'd even bring himself closer to her ruined flesh.

"It was fun to meet you, Sibley; Lady of the floor panels. I unfortunately have to return to my duties." Horus's voice was lower. Grinning mischievously with a wink and letting go; with clear reluctance, stood. Leaving her to stare in bewilderment and with a hot blush on her face. "..Uh.. I too. I mean- You too!" Why did this Horus fluster her so much? Was it the fact that he was the first man to show just the barest of friendliness to her?

Her wonderings stopped as Horus walked away and looked over his shoulder a final time. "I hope you meet you again. That one wire is about to come loose as well." he called back. Sibley looked down, checked, and noticed he was right again.

Belatedly, she realized he never recoiled from touching her. Nor did he seem to get grumpy at her for any reason. Resuming her work with a sigh, Sibley begrudgingly thought of how she shouldn't had cowed herself so much into distrust.. even if the scars upon her itched and her legs ached. No, perhaps distrust was more of her safety net. After all, it was slim to none that she'd ever encounter him again.

[sillysucho]

In The 41st Millennium.. [40K FANFIC] [MALAKIM X READER]

For @thevoidscreams ! Hadn't actually written Lamenters before this and Malakim's page has very little about him so.. Pre-Chapter Master Malakim, I hope you enjoy!

Writing romantic scenes.. I could get used to this..

The life of an Astartes was one of hardship and war. It was an ever-going odyssey in an era that knew no peace. Astartes knew no rest, they knew no reprieve. Any companionship most, if not all, would know was the comradery only shared by brothers who had shared the casualties of the mind that war provided.

And yet.. such a lucky few would earn their rest. Would earn slight moments of reprieve. Be it the artistically inclined Blood Angels, the ritualistic Space Wolves and Ultramarines, or the hyper-religious Black Templars.

In the scant time they had (travelling from planet to system to sector to even different segmentums), they would have their rare moments of freedom to be at some semblance of relaxation..

Though for many, they drowned themselves in their life's efforts. Believing the constant training and arduous meditations to be their relaxation. So few, so very few of them, knew how precious true rest was to be enjoyed. Knew that not a single second was to be taken for granted..

Which was why he longed for this day. His moment of peace, his reprieve and source of.. joy, he dared to even think. Joy and gentle happiness. Of soft touches and lingering looks, of coy laughter and breathless gasps.

The life of a Lamenter was different to that of an average Astartes, of course. One of untold loss and misfortune. He knew a few of his brothers found it life's cruelest joke. He knew some were constantly in a state of morose workaholism. He knew some were.. constantly angry, teetering the dangerous edge all sons of the great Sanguinius tread upon.

But not he. Not on this day. Not on this wonderful day. The downpour that had flooded the plains of Elgus-Omega had drenched them all through their armor (or he and others swore that anyhow). They had suffered a lesser amount of losses than usual. He could.. he could have sworn that the returning trip to the ships were quicker. That his armor no longer had its usual weight upon his shoulders. That even his brothers in arms were... relaxed. Or as relaxed as a Lamenter could get.

By the Emperor, most of them were cracking jokes. Cheering the atmosphere caused by the overbearing deluge and the blood of xenos and man alike. And it wasn't that he was ignoring them but how could he not on sheer accident? All he felt was excited yearning. A wish he knew was coming true.

Time could not flow slower suddenly. As if the universe felt his excitement and wanted to torment him for it. Everything in him felt jittery as if he was just heading to the fight itself. One of his brothers even turned to him and cracked a small joke. He could do nothing but give a small laugh. Even at the resounding slap to the pauldron as he was teased.

It wasn't like he was hiding it. His eagerness. His yearning. The way his hearts fluttered in his chest. The doggish gaze in his eyes. And then- The snap to attention as they were all mildly jolted with the landing of the ship. No one else was as quick to their feet as he was. He all but pounded his way out of the ship onto the landing deck. Eyes wide and wild. Searching the crowd of both Astartes, serfs, and crewmen.

And he spotted you amongst the crowd, small (at least.. for the time), as it was. You were slightly bent, keen upon completing your own tasks even if he caught the split-second moments you took to raise up and look around for someone.. for him.

It felt as if he lost the air in his lungs. That his hearts stopped. Every single time he looked at you. How his eyes settled on your sweat-slickened hair with its alluring shades in the lighting was art to him. The singing bell that was your voice as you spoke louder, intent to be heard over the clanks and clatterings. Each hand leading to pleasing arms attached to a delicate body was pleasant.

You were stunning. You were captivating. You were beautiful.

He never realized his feet were moving before he saw you grow closer. Moving quickly, closer and closer. Yet just as you turned to look for him once more, he felt bone-shattering joy at the lovely surprise upon your face.

"Malakim-!" his name was cut from your lips with a squeal as he lifted you effortlessly. Barely feeling your lesser weight in his hands as he cradled you against his armored chest. Ensuring his ceramite-covered hands weren't tangling in your hair as he kissed you softly but with all the passion he could muster.

Pulling back just as he knew you had run out of air. Savoring the look upon your face even if you had smudges of grease and drenched in sweat from a hard day's labor. A gentle smile breaking across his features as a grin took over yours.

"Malakim.. Brother Nelphis told me you weren't to return until much later.. And- And you said we weren't going to do this in front of everyone.." "Mm.. well later is now." the Lamenter murmured half-heartedly. Unwilling to ask you to repeat yourself, for in his overwhelming joy he had half ignored you. Simply basking as he certainly ignored the chortling of his battle-brothers and barking teases some gave. Content to see at least one among them had something to keep them going. To keep the Rage and Thirst at bay.

"If later is now.. I'm afraid I need to finish up here, and you have blood in your hair.." you giggled softly, brushing away a strand from his face in favor of kissing him upon his brow.

He wanted to protest. To simply keep holding you but.. his senses took over. Why should he keep wearing his armor? To have some of his physical sensations blocked away when he should be feeling you. The brush of your hair against his touches and body, gracefulness of your work-muscular thighs and rear, the softness of your skin against his lips.

So he kissed you fully once more. Keeping you both until he felt breathless just from excitement and you pulled away with a gasp. Yet neither you nor him pulled away from each other as he mumbled against your lips. "My quarters.. I will meet you there, my heart." "Not if I see you there first." Never had Malakim shed his blessed armor so quickly. Had been so impatient through the ritualistic process to race a baseline human from the armory to his own quarters.

Relationships such as these were looked so down upon in the other chapters.. but not the Lamenters.

For the life of an Astartes was a life of torture. Of death and oceans of blood. They knew no fear except the fear of failure. Knew no reprieve except that which was taken. Except for the precious few that allowed themselves to feel these moments of fleeting happiness and joy.

For it was the 41st millennium.. and while there was only war; sometimes there was love.

[sillysucho]

Brother Against Brother (ULTRAKILL FANFIC)

WELP; about time it happened. Yes I'm writing this while suffering with sickness. Yes I'm miserable

Upnext: probably more Gulliman yearning, it depends on how long I can stay awake

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

Two figures stood before the gates, ever silent and somber as was their duty. Massive golden pikes held in their hands. They were alike in many aspects; short in stature though absolutely broad. Identical helmets portrayed screaming animals like the horses of old.

Though they were different in some. One helmet was white with a void-black blindfold. His wing-joints equally dark and his decorative loincloth matching in color. While his brother was opposite; a pure black head with gleaming white eyes that stared into nothing.

Outside of the gates to the Holy Council's Chambers, they stood in silence. Raising helmed heads even when they heard the faint screaming wails over the glorious choir of the Grand Failure. Stepping aside their crossed pikes to behold the Failure emerging within. Shoulders stiff, brimming with hate. Their helmets staring ever onward as he spat his swears of vengeance and disappeared with a single flap of his once-beautiful wings.

"Heretic." "Disgusting he keeps his wings." "Foul." "Undeserving of mercy." the two muttered to themselves. Heretics and traitors had no rights to life. Had no deserving of halos or their statuses. No matter, he would not live.

And so, more hours would pass. Ticking and ticking. One, the void-horseman, would bop his helmet and step to the side. "Return. The Council is angry. Not smart to incite their wrath." spoke the white-horseman. "I will. It had not spoken to us in eons." "Hours." "Eons."

Their bickering settled and the void-horseman took his leave. Leaving his companion to stand guard once more. They were hypocrites of sorts. Here the Grand Failure was defeated by a machine, but here they were visiting one. They had already reasoned it though. One machine caused untold chaos; the other was a curiosity. Heavy and bulky, but still with shocking speed and wit.. or as much wit as a machine had.

Yet his companion returned soon. Too soon. He was the stiff walker now. Posturing himself in front of the gates angrily. "It is gone. Eliminated." "No. Strong." "No. Eliminated. The Anomaly."

Silence echoed between the two. Both raising and half folding their shackled wings in silent vigilance. It was not a friend, no object could be a friend. But it was a curiosity that made their long times of guarding pass a little faster. It never got to their gates, no. It was simply a curious mistake of discovery made by their other friend. The Reclusive One.

They still waited for the Reclusive's recovery; to see them again. The gates were lonely with no one daring to see the Council. Nor would the Council ever dare to speak to them, as was their right.

It still made for lonely work. Until recent; they hadn't had any reason to speak asides from parsed words. So they relented into their silence. Bowing heads in vigil for the Reclusive and the Red Machine that they would see. And prayed for the Anomaly's destruction by the hands of their fallen brother.

But their task was to keep watch. To stand guard. To be nothing more but living statues- No. That was not their way of thinking. Both refused to think that way. They turned their thoughts to faith. To worship. To anything but the dismal existence they suddenly held..

Though they soon saw the Failure emerging once more. Each step was determined and heavy.. yet his weapons were unsheathed. The two horsemen did not need to look at each other to expose their confusion at the hostile Angel approaching. Crossing their pikes over the gate and standing straight.

"Move aside and you will be spared." his words betrayed his anger. The horsemen stared blankly at him in silence. They spoke to very few and the ex-Judge had long since fallen from their grace.

"Very well." despite the exposed swords, surprise dawned upon both of them as the angel lunged forward with his weapons. Intent on doing them both harm. Shifting stances in unison, they warded off his first attack with a chiming clang. Wings spread outwards as holy weapon clashed against holy weapon. Turning, it took them no time at all to realize that the fallen one was corralling them together. Appearing above only to lunge down on the opposite side. Hemming them in close; forcing the Guardsmen to protect the other's back against physical and summoned weapon alike.

All the same, they forced themselves into retreat. Backs pressing together as they fought Him. "Too fast!" "Too slow!" "What is this madness?!" The two echoed together. Questioning the angel that fought them with wrath they had not seen before. Before prideful, manic laughter rose in the air.

The black-horseman hesitated. His pike slicing the air too late. His grip loose. Fumbling and in seconds from above; the Grand Failure lashed out from above. An odd taste erupted in his mouth. Coppery and tangy. Shuffling forward, he collapsed even as an odd braying scream echoed behind him.

The white-horseman screeched his anger. Lunging upwards but too heavy to fly. Angel clashing against angel. The black-horseman stared in stunned silence, unable to move as the heavenly spear pinned him into the ground. Trembling hands became slicked with blood as he tried to pull it out of him.

The feeling of fading away dawned upon him. An overwhelming feeling of terror itched its way upon him. Frantically, his hands pulled and yanked. Arching backwards until he was dully aware of a clanking noise when the cross-shaped guard tugged against his armor.

"Hhhhngk...hhh...Hhnnggk.." his words were sputtering and gargled. Aching to look over his shoulder. Aware of his brother having lost his own weapon and charging against the traitor with his fists. Unable to do nothing as he faded further and further into darkness; refusing to submit so callously while his brother fought for both of them.

On weakening limbs, he forced himself to stand. Hands sliding on the blood-slicked spear and ignoring the terrible crunching and snapping of bones and armor as he pulled himself free. In his hands, he summoned a pair of long daggers.. and took one shuffling step.

"Gghhk...Ga-aa-briel.." he choked, stabbing the blade into the ground as his legs gave out. Staring into the encroaching darkness as the figure that was once the most holy out of all of them captured his brother's fists in-between scissoring blades. Effectively chopping the offending limb off and forcing the angel upon his knees.

He was too cowardly to watch the beheading. Too cowardly to force himself up-right once more to continue the fight.

He only hoped the Council and God would grant him mercy.

[sillysucho]

Eulogy of Brotherhood

Inspired by a post I saw reblogged from someone I follow of the cursed-40k-thoughts blog. Wanted to get in touch of Gulliman as well

It was once a cathedral, something he scorned and disdained. Something that contrasted every single belief in his trained mind. Something that stood as an idol to what had changed in the countless years he had been out of the picture.

Every archway, every door, even down to the service tunnels below were carefully made. Not a single detail skipped. He had seen the most lavish of buildings and yet none compared to the obvious.. love put into the manufacturing of the cathedral.

Including the presently mocking portraits and imagery of the Emperor and.. even himself. Some features were off. Too many ribs on the skeletalized 'God-Emperor'. Grossly extended distal phalanges, one of this past brothers in arms had a mustache he never wore before. He himself had longer hair than how he always kept it.

The wounding marks of the uneducated trading intelligence for religious fanaticism.

"Beautiful, isn't it, brother?" a voice spoke. Raising the hairs upon his flesh even though he felt no fear. It was as though something of the multi-voiced speaker put visceral disgust within him. Made him want to void his stomach of its contents while all the same battering it into nonexistence. It made him want to cheer and dance. To celebrate.

Too many conflicting feelings. He turned away from the malformed images to a malformed once-brother.

He should have felt joy to see someone he actually knew. Should have felt.. something. Hatred, sadness, disgust, he would have even accepted fear!

Instead it was cruel nothing.

Cold, cruel nothing as he stared at the bright shimmering form of his 'brother'. He was not truly there, something within told him. Even as his shining body walked through the cathedral, his hands knocking off intricately carved busts before picking some so-called artificed bust of the Emperor (as if there wasn't enough of those).

"Bring yourself here, wretch, and let us truly fight for once. We were once a glorious expanding empire. We had everything. Now you left me with ruins of what once-was. Was this how you pictured everything going? Is this the framework for what you set your perfect city to be?"

A low blow, so was the fights between siblings.

The horn-crowned head of Lorgar Aurelian turned towards him. Eyes quite literally blazing as his easy smile set to a tense line. His flattened nostrils flaring as the flames that surrounded his armored form seemed to flare brighter.

"You were always one of the favorites-"

"Do not spat more lies, heathen-" his words were clearly the wrong choice as the daemonic form before him threw his head back and laughed. Laughed and laughed and laughed until crystal tears bled from his ears and rose ethereal steam.

"You are one to talk of heathens! You did spend every waking moment trying to earn some degree of pride from those you cared and loved for! You did not have to tirelessly work to earn a simple gods-given thanks! Never! NEVER were you forced to your knees as one might force a criminal to bow low! You, Gulliman, you, were always one of the favorites. Never fragile Horus, never the mutant Angel, never even the Phoenix fallen. You! You who stands before me clad in the finest armors and jewels and every nick and knack, with all of the Imperium bowing to your every whim was the favorite. Even amongst the fowlest of xenos-"

"Do not mention them." Roboute's voice snapped out akin to a whiplash. It was not him who asked to be resurrected. The truth was, he could have truly died instead of being forced into overseeing his nightmares come true.

"Emotion, isn't it delicious?" Lorgar sneered, the fallen Primarch turning away once again to walk to the sculpture of the Emperor they once followed "You never showed it when he forced me to my knees. Do you think he is angry now?"

"I never thought-"

"That's right. But I won Roboute. I've been the winner the entire time."

He was silent as his maddened brother spoke. Throwing out his arms almost worshipful of the gold statue.

"I knelt in the ruination of his false path. I felt the screams of my peoples. I felt their pains and their woes. And look, I was right. He would be forced into accepting he was a god eventually."

Turning over his shoulder. Roboute swore he saw the portrait of his brother once-was. Sensitive, sadly smiling, Lorgar.

"We will see each other soon, dear Brother. And you will see how bright my victories shine."

As the shimmer-form of his brother disappeared, Roboute stood stoically as every glass, window, and even gemstone shattered to fragments. He was already aware of the countless scratches made across his face.

Instead of walking away, instead of doing anything to help attempt some form of rebuilding, Gulliman looked into a shattered skylight. Equally aware of the glass fragments falling from his hair.

He wish he was less human in thought. To yearn for what once-was.