I love Estelle's design!!! She's so pretty! However, I have a question; you said she was born AFTER the freezing, how?
TY WAAAH ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡(〃´ω`〃)
I actually didn't think of it, but I wondered how a post freeze fanchild situation would go since I've seen several fanchildren born before freezing. I'm not actually sure right now, but she's born 100 years later.
It's either
Through etc. etc. magical means:
But it was more likely that they had a moment of weakness one night:
How the parents feel at first:
Vanessa: She is absolutely devastated that she has to have the idiot cheater's child because she was swept up by his words and loneliness. But the more she thought about it, she understood that this child could be the only person who could ever truly love her as long as she would never be like her own mother..
unfortunately, she also realized she had to co-parent with the moron because she didn't want her own child to be abandoned by her father like she was. Weighing the cons and pros, she decided to keep it as she already deals with Snatcher annoying her. Real responsibility will straighten him out, hopefully.
Snatcher: My dude is STROKED for all the wrong reasons. Vanessa is gonna suffer for the next 9 months, growing something HE put in there??? Something that is verified proof that she needs him???? YES
But seriously, after a while, the thought of being a dad was a bit troubling, but hey, it wouldn't be too bad, especially after speaking to Vanessa. They'll be the exact opposite of their parents, and this kid will turn out okay. Yes, co-parenting and acting nice for too long is a pain but he's positive they could pull it off for his little shackle to his hopeless soulmate.
Wendolene: "Fur like this could make for wonderful wool!"
Were-Rabbit: "Thanks? May be harder to weave though..."
The bottom two actually have a story to them. Wendolene regretted not being able to obtain Were-Rabbit fur during the initial incident. After all, soft fur that like would make for good substitute wool --- which would make good specialty yarn --- which could then be gifted to certain special someones.
A few months later however, she comes across a more humanized version of the beast. One that's a lot more reasonable, yet timid. Soon after, "subtle" hints turn into straight-up begging. Quickly after, he caves in out of politeness, allowing her to shave off whatever fur she needed. A week later, on Christmas Day, Wendolene greets Wallace & Gromit with a gift each. "Woolen" winter gloves for Wallace & the world's softest yarn ball for Gromit. Both being the same warm, cozy, brown. Wendolene giddily tells of their origin, making absolutely sure to hammer in just how humane the process was while doing so.
The boys hastily thank her afterwards. They waste no time handing out their own gifts. Wendolene notes Gromit's concerned look at Wallace, who returns a smile that could only be describes as guilty. She shrugs it off, assuming that it must be related to another one of their invention-caused mishaps.
The TRUE nature of the Warp? (Joke Post... or is it?)
inb4 it turns out that a Pantheon of Over Gods in the image of Warhammer's own creators are the things in the "Deep Warp" that even Tzeentch fears delving too deep and running into.
Imagine a pantheon not in the form of gods of war, excess, stagnation, and change, but in the form of Warhammer creators themselves:
Dwelling in the Deepest Depths, the Ultimate, Final Depths of the Warp, the substrate itself upon which both the Immaterium and the Texture of the Material Plane are rendered, dwell the Great Creators and their many, MANY servants (known collectively to some as the "Deep Gods"):
Br'yanthal, the Forge of Fate
Inspired by Bryan Ansell.
A titan of creation, shaping the foundational rules of reality in the Warp. Known for spinning destiny like a loom of molten iron.
Hallivion, the Labyrinthed Eye
Inspired by Richard Halliwell.
Master of design, architecture, and paradox. His gaze can see the patterns in the Warp that even Tzeentch cannot untangle.
Pristyr, the Harbinger of the Endless Game
Inspired by Rick Priestley.
Keeper of strategy, war, and rules eternal. Plays infinite games across dimensions, moving pawns no mortal or daemon can comprehend.
Blanchara, the Inked Eternity
Inspired by John Blanche.
Guardian of aesthetic and dread, twisting beauty into fear and narrative into legend. Paints existence itself in black ink and fire.
Perriviel, the Duality of Flame
Inspired by Allan and Michael Perry.
Embodiment of symmetry and chaos, simultaneously nurturing and destructive. Often depicted as twin forms constantly orbiting each other.
The Silent Scribes, the Debating Dreams
Inspired by the Games Dev Collective.
A chorus of faceless robed writers, who argue reality into being through contradictions and deadlines.
To mortals, these figures are unknowable abstractions. To the Chaos Gods, they are the walls of the maze itself — the architects of every possibility.
These Deep Gods, these Great Creators, exist beneath and beyond Chaos—Tzeentch himself avoids probing into the regions they inhabit.
Each god embodies a real-world creator’s contribution: creation, design, strategy, artistry, duality, and collective innovation.
They occasionally whisper of another dread class of deity, "The Holders" (Games Workshop Corporate & Shareholders), but such entities remain invisible to even the mightiest seer, and the other gods scoff at their mention, finding them undeserving of inclusion in the pantheon. "Everyone knows the Holders aren't worthy gods." Blind and stupid, they dance upon a pair of great Mountains in the Deep Warp called Re'v'on'yue and Dyvi'd'ynd (ancient words from the Outer Tongue; "To Take, To Grab, To Acquire" and "To Hold, To Possess, To Hoard" respectively), shaping nothing directly but still warping the flow of the Deep Immaterium with their demands. Even the Great Creators can’t ignore them entirely, but they always regard them dismissively and with the uttermost contempt.
Gathered about the Great Creators are their courtiers: The Blackened Translators, based on the Black Library authors, especially Dan Abnett, Aaron Dembski-Bowden, Chris Wraight, Sandy Mitchell, Graham McNeill, Robert Rath, Josh Reynolds, Justin D. Hill, Peter Fehervari, and Mike Brooks.
Abnetheus, the Architect of Gravitas
God of Structure, Intrigue, and Iron Resolve
Wields the Chronoquill, a pen that shapes time itself. His domains are espionage, loyalty, and the slow burn of justice. His voice is law in the halls of the Inquisition, and his breath animates regiments into myth.
Dembskir, the Prophet of Damnation
God of Brotherhood, Heresy, and Sacred Rage
Clad in the flayed banners of fallen legions, he speaks in elegies and oaths. His gospel is the Litany of the Lost, and his followers are those who love monsters too deeply to kill them.
Wraichtor, the Silent Flame
God of Stoicism, Duty, and the Weight of Command
His throne is carved from unspoken sacrifice. He rules through restraint, and his miracles are quiet revolutions. His worshippers endure, and in their silence, he speaks.
Mitchelos, the Laughing Quill
God of Satire, Survival, and Bureaucratic Chaos
He wears a commissar’s coat stitched from punchlines and paradox. His miracles are improbable escapes and paperwork that saves lives. His altar is a desk, and his relic is a misplaced memo that changes history.
Maq'nel, the Hammer of Cataclysm
God of Scale, Ruin, and the Majesty of Collapse
He builds empires to break them. His voice is tectonic, his wrath operatic. His followers are architects of doom, and his scripture is written in falling towers.
Rathuun, the Whisperer in the Margins
God of Subtext, Echoes, and Lingering Dread
He speaks in footnotes and dreams. His presence is felt in the spaces between scenes, in the choices not made. His miracles are haunting, and his relics are half-remembered truths.
Reynalor, the Beast-Singer
God of Grotesque Joy, Mythic Mischief, and Creature Kinship
He dances with monsters and sings their names. His gospel is a bestiary of broken heroes. His followers wear masks, and his rites are carnivals of catharsis.
Justicar D’Hill, the Chronicler of the Forgotten
God of Memory, Elegy, and the Unsung Dead
He walks among the archives, resurrecting the overlooked. His miracles are quiet vindications, and his relics are names restored to honor. His worshippers are historians and mourners.
Fehervarion, the Coil-Walker
God of Recursion, Madness, and the Spiral Truth
He is the god of the labyrinth, the echo, the story that devours itself. His scripture is nonlinear, his altar a Möbius strip. His followers are dreamers and madmen, and his miracles are paradoxes.
Broxus, the Trickster of Tone
God of Whiplash, Masks, and the Sacred Joke
He wears a thousand faces, each true. His miracles are tonal shifts that reveal deeper truths. His gospel is laughter in the dark, and his relic is the punchline that saves a soul.
Prophets who have seen a glimpse of the Translators insist that there are "countless others shadowed in our sight, but no less potent, no less powerful". Together, they serve as a court of lesser Gods, still greater than the Gods of Chaos, who serve at the pleasure and purpose of the Great Creators, and enact their will in a way that grants meaning.
Around the Blackened Translators gathers The Nameless Horde, an endless tide of shadowed and faceless celestial spirits of creation, destruction, and amusement. They bicker endlessly, and each one invents dozens of small, spinning realities within their sight, but however infinite and grand their creations be, they do not have the permanence and grandeur of the Great Work of the giants at whose feet they sit and which they heed with rapture: debating, repeating, reinterpreting, and reimagining it all constantly. (These are the fans themselves.)
The Great Creators forge the rules of reality, even those of the Warp itself. Nothing in the universe is outside their gaze, but they are uninterested in the minutia of what unfolds within. It is even said by some that several of them have left this reality entirely to create other Great Works in adjacent planes of existence.
Meanwhile the Blackened Translators and the Nameless Horde are doing the bulk of the upkeep: the Blackened Translators spin the stories, create HISTORY, and the Horde engages with those, often creating new, less permanent worlds (fanfiction, memes, individual games of the tabletop, etc) that while smaller and separate from the greater Work, are no less real or important, just smaller.
Periodically, the Great Creators or the Holders decide a section of reality is "No Longer Fit To Remain" and enforce that will through The Great Retcon. In the Material Plane, this often manifests as The Great Erasure, where entire star systems and mighty heroes are simply... unmade. The inhabitants don't die; they simply cease to have ever been. Only the Blackened Translators and the Nameless Horde remember them, keeping their temporal ghosts in a sub-realm called the Vault of Legends (The Legends PDF/Out of Print section) from which they may be recalled momentarily into lesser states of creation, but locked out of the Great Work itself until the mightiest Deep Gods deem it appropriate. Occasionally, the Deep Gods dictate that history "Move", and when they do, changes made to the history of the material plane simultaneously have always existed and yet have never existed until the moment of decree.
These Gods are greatly feared by Chaos and the God Emperor alike, for at a whim, the histories, and even the essential natures of such lofty and mighty figures can be casually rewritten on a whim. The Deep Gods are often passive for extended periods from the perspective of the Material Plane, in truth they are always working, always creating, always interpreting. But when roused to greater action, their effect is literally universe altering.
This is basically adapting the idea of The Implementors from Zork to 40k.
Consider this canon if you like, it really wouldn't change a single thing of actual importance.
