#fanon stuff

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

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.

This is how Chica and Foxy finds out they're getting a nephew btw: