Every year it gets to be Passover and I think I should write a thing. What exactly this thing is varies and rarely any of it gets actually written, but this year is unlike other years because I have written a thing.
Twenty Tribes: primarchs fic, mostly origin-stories timeline, gen, AU: everyone is Jewish
He had been Resurrected. Drawn back from death’s edge by the hands of heretic and alien and loyal soul alike, so that he may lead. He had not paid much heed to the woman who boasted wings in his presence – there were Gene-Abnormalities through humanity, afterall, and some were tolerated for their use.
Roboute Guilliman, still half in fugue from his awakening, was taken to the broad plateau of the Fortress of Hera, upon a balcony cut from old Calth Marble, dredged up in memory of the Ashen World.
And there were crowds. The teeming masses of humanity, crying, weeping, singing with joy, for a Primarch had walked again. They shouted it was their salvation. They shouted he was their beacon of hope in the darkness of the coming millenia…
And they shouted “Praise Be the God Emperor.”
Cypher, stood in the shadow of a broad column, could not help but grin behind his gorget at the sight of Guilliman’s face at those last Two Words.
Celestine and Greyfax and Cawl all looked upon Guilliman’s face, confusion writ upon their own features.
For Roboute, all that echoed through his head were those two words.
“Oh what the hells has happened here?” he breathed out, leaning on the balcony edge.
—-
On the Daemon World of Sicarius, Lorgar Aurelian, Crowned and Horned in Daemon-hood, cloaked in warpflame and armoured in plate that was a rich, dusk deep crimson began to laugh.
And it would be some time before he could gather himself.
my aesthetic is powerful women wearing nonsexualized armor
Having a sibling or three really like….gave you interpersonal skills and moral exercises from an early age that people who were only children had to learn later on, because nothing makes your brain work overtime than having a ride or die relationship with someone who you would suplex through the dining room table in a second if they touched your shit, but you’d also stand up and take the blame for some shit if you knew it wasn’t their fault or stepping in and swinging if they were being bullied by someone else
The Emperor Sits Upon His Golden Throne, by John Blanche
“We failed, father. You failed your sons, and we, in our turn, failed you. And now, to compound our arrogance and vainglory, we have failed all of them, too. Did Horus not say that you sought godhood? He built a rebellion upon that claim. How he would gloat, to see the Imperium now.”
– Roboute Guilliman
Shadow Captain Branwen – Finished
“From unknown quarters we strike! Let none who serve the Warmaster survive!”
Just in time for International Women’s Day, Lady Murderbirb is ready!
This needs to become a common phrase in Warhammer
No, the best lines are how they talk about how space marines can beeathe through their assholes.
I’m still pretty partial to “We float for Macragge.”
I want an entire book of the terrible jokes that particular battle-brother made. You just know from the withering look the other guy throws him that he tells this kind of shit all the damn time. He just can’t help it. Who said Ultramarines have no sense of humour ?
“Sergeant, to me!”
“You CALTH, sir? *snickering as the captain stares into the horizon.*”
“Brother, your shoelaces are untied”
The dude, in power armour : *sigh*
His poor, poor squadmates.
An Ultradude is fighting the foe, somehow ends up on the ground, saved by our funny-boned protagonist:
“Brother, are you alright? Is your power pack still running?”
“Yes, I don’t think he hit-”
“Then you better catch it!”
Ultradude looks on the fallen foe and thinks, just for a moment; Would that our fates had been reversed.
Dude we should write a book.
A terrible, terrible book.Good thing the dude is long dead in 40k, it wouldn’t have been safe to let him anywhere near Marneus Calgar. So many potential terrible jokes.
I mean…I don’t think we saw him die. *Insert Dreadnought telling horrible jokes in 40k and Roboute can’t fucking believe that this one, of all his ancient sons, is still around*
IT’S CANON NOW TOO LATE NO RETAKINGS
“Why couldn’t it be Aeonid, or Marius ? Why must I suffer this ?” – Roboute Guilliman, upon meeting Venerable Caius
“I stomp for Maccrage, my lord.” -Venerable Caius, upon meeting an awakened Guilliman
because by fate even the gods are cast down 