#big e warhammer

[siamesephoenixrandomideatank]

[WH40K x SU AU] What if Steven was the one becoming Emperor of Mankind

This timeline is just an alternate part that is not meant to be sharply accurate to Warhammer 40K's canon.

Steven Quartz Universe found himself being unaging and nigh-immortal after a tragic accident(or terrorist attack performed by the 2K Terran/Earth form of chaos cults). Unfortunately, neither Connie nor their children survived.

Governments started to intervene in Steven's life, even his grief of losing his human family. He learned the ugly truth of how politics and history guided humanity to such corruption- something Crystal Gems never told him for real.

With his traumatic mind and Pink Diamond's/Rose Quartz's side re-emerged in his mentality, he desires to control(Pink Diamond) for the sake of protecting humanity(Rose).

He faked his death(like his mom) and rebuilt his new identity as 'Ander Thames', a mysterious genius and physically advanced person. Not even the Gems know about the truth.

With his restabilized mind, he believed humanity must be reforged like how Homeworld terraformed planets for better purposes. However, he aims to transform humanity by getting rid of the flaws; religions, political factions, capitalism, cult of personalities, and a long list. However, his past as Steven had proven peace is not enough.

His blood, more powerful than spit or tear, may bring back damaged DNA samples out of bodies or relics of historical figures. With that, he could make Primarchs, combining his gene, the greatest figures in history, and the other best samples by the technology combining those of Homeworld, humanity's peak, and his trials and errors.

His Gem was destroyed during the Siege of Terra against Horus. His human part was too stable to let him die, yet, without Gem, his body is barely maintained as an ever-dying husk. His only purpose is using his barely focusing mental projection to guide the Imperium fleets through warp.

[kumratart]

Bongo Emperor of MANKIND

[goblin-enjoyer]

Had chaos warbands on the brain today. saw this post and had to make a funny.

[thecupsmith]

[tanknode]

Emporer of Nothing

Based off of "Study after Velázquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X "by Francis Bacon

[themouthwashes]

Warhammer 40k stuff

[ghostinthegallery]

Big E: "I hope you have a child just like you when you grow up."

Magnus: "What is that supposed to mean?"

Ahriman, covered in sand: "Dad, promise you won't be mad..."

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Late night thought

You know that one meme?

Kings have honor- Robute G, Magnus

Soldiers have bravery- Lion, Leman, Mortarion

And Poets have Heart- Vulkan, Lorgar, Fulgrim

But all I have is RAGE- Sanguiniuis, Angron, Perturabo

[heuldoch7b]

hi yeah me again. yeah its- yeah its more angron please dont hang up

[ezekiel13]

VERY IMPORTANT PRIMARCH CAT LIST:

Lion -> fluffy necked Persian brown cat (the rare pure brown ones)

Fulgrim-> Rag doll!!!

Perturabo-> Russian blue

Jaghatai-> Pallas cat

Rogal-> brown tabby

Leman-> Fluffy grey cat who thinks he’s a dog

Konrad-> Smokey black cat (the ones who when you stroke them they have grey under the black)

Ferrus-> white cat with grey front paws

Angron-> Sand cat but redder than most

Roboute-> Tuxedo

Mortarion-> random stray cat. Is a calico though

Magnus-> red Maine coone

Horus -> Devon Rex

Lorgar-> Spyhnx

Vulkan-> black Maine coone

Corvus-> black footed cat (the breed)

Alpharius Omegon-> two identical black cats. They have two different colour collars but manage to switch them often

Bonus:

Emperor-> Lion

Malcador-> Leopard

Custodes-> Hyenas (not cats but like. They work for a lion in the lion king)

[siamesephoenixrandomideatank]

[Warhammer(Fantasy/40K) X ToH]

If one of these guys gonna find the Grimwalkers Pit with Collector’s mirror, who you would concern about the most?

Nagash, father of Undeads. From a man of ancient kingdom, becoming the leader of Death alligiance in Mortal Realm.

Archaon the Everchosen, leader of Chaos against the world.

Big E, A.K.A. Belos with real fighting skills, being giant, and have 9 loyal cloning left(He is not on the golden throne yet).

Peturabo, Primarch of Iorn Warriors, known for mastery of daemonsmithry.

[kumratart]

when a sun rises in a sunless realm or somethin

[lazywriter-artist]

Really owning them sons aren’t ya emps?

[nevesmose]

Fic ideas: Sevatar's first week as First Captain, where he realizes how many cats he has to herd as part of his new position? Konrad and Mortarion being awful bffs together? Horus and his scrungly new goth brother? Kyroptera joint venting session?

Last Chance on 8th Street

So in a perhaps too literal interpretation I combined "Sevatar's first week herding cats" with "Horus and his scrungly goth brother" and this was where things ended up. Trying to go for a kind of The Iron Giant "stereotypical 1950s USA that never really existed" vibe I think?

Somewhere in the idealised American past, a no-good street punk is sentenced to community service.

He's just so bald, Sevatar thought unkindly as he looked at the back of Police Chief Horus Lupercal's head. So goddamn bald.

It definitely wasn't the first time he had been in the back of a police car, but it was the first time he'd done it without his hands cuffed behind his back.

"You should consider yourself very fortunate to get away with community service after what you did," Horus said, staring daggers at him in the rear-view mirror. "But my father the mayor has decided to try out a new rehabilitation policy on you instead."

That explained the personal chauffeur treatment, Sevatar supposed, grimacing at yet another mention of my father the mayor. If they ever made a talking Horus Lupercal doll, that's what it would say every time you pulled its string.

"Gee whiz, Chief," Sevatar said insincerely. "All this fuss over a little jaywalking?"

"Jaywalking," Horus repeated flatly.

"Yeah, jaywalking. I jaywalked all the way across town at three in the morning to a nice suburban house and then I jaydrove off in their Cadillac. I pulled some jaydonuts in it and then I jayburned it." He shrugged expressively. "But it started with jaywalking."

Horus didn't reply as they halted next to a low, nondescript building with a sign saying 8th STREET MUNICIPAL CAT SHELTER.

"Here we are," he announced. "Your community service. Get out. It's time you met my brother."

"Oh yeah?" Sevatar left the car, scowling, and adjusted his leather jacket with an air of immense self-importance. "And which brother would that be exactly? Because it feels like there's about a hundred of you. Which reminds me," he added nastily, "give my sympathies to Mrs Mayor."

"A real comedian, aren't you?" Horus replied. "Let me put it this way. He's not one of the ones my father the mayor allows to be seen in public."

"Oh shit, is it the crazy one? The one the Army did all those psychic UFO mind control experiments on?"

"Is that what they say about him?" Horus asked innocently. He shouldered open the main door of the building and led Sevatar into a small, dimly-lit reception area empty except for a few metal folding chairs, a desk with a disconnected rotary phone on it, and a poster of a cat on one wall.

"He must be out in the yard," Horus said, gesturing to a door leading to the rear of the building. "And just remember," he continued, turning to point a finger at Sevatar, "when you fail at this, which you will because you're nothing but a worthless punk, I will be here to arrest you personally. Have fun."

With that he left, either ignoring or not hearing Sevatar's response. Sevatar shrugged, lit up a cigarette and headed out into the yard behind the building.

Whatever he'd expected, it wasn't this - an open, grass-covered space dotted with trees and what looked like a variety of homemade cat-sized climbing frames, scratching posts and houses.

And above all, what looked like thousands of cats, everywhere he looked. The most cats he'd ever seen. Like in that horror movie about birds, but... with cats. For some reason every single one of them was some variety of black, grey or white in colour.

Sitting cross-legged in the centre of the yard, surrounded by his own personal clowder, was Konrad Curze, the crazy one of the Mayor's sons.

He was tall, tall enough that you could see it even sitting down, and far thinner than any healthy person should be. He wore grey jeans and a black turtleneck sweater which, combined with his long black hair and intense dark eyes, made him look like a kind of depressed, disappointed beatnik.

The cat hair all over his clothes didn't help.

"Those things will kill you," Curze said, looking over at Sevatar. His voice was raspy, like he'd either used it far too much or far too little.

"What, the cats?"

He shook his head and gently pushed a tuxedo cat with a peculiar marking on its forehead off his lap so he could stand up and walk over to Sevatar. "Cigarettes. Cats will just eat you after you die."

He had to be seven feet tall at least. Sevatar, who fell back on humour at times of uncertainty, found himself compelled to make some kind of remark.

"What's the weather like up there, Legs?"

"Bright and breezy," Curze replied in the same whispery tone. "You must be Jago Sevatarion, here to serve the community."

"It's Sevatar. And yeah, I guess so. Didn't think it would be a community of cats though."

"Cats are vital to the community," Curze replied. "While their actions in keeping down pest populations may seem brutal, or even downright sadistic, their overall contribution is very positive to society."

"Right. But what about, like... endangered birds? Don't they hunt them too?"

"That's utterly irrelevant to me, Sevatar. I just like cats."

They walked together around the yard, with Curze describing in great detail the various duties involved in running the shelter and Sevatar mostly trying not to step on any of the residents.

Eventually his curiosity got the better of him. "You know, they say you're crazy," he ventured at a stopping point in Curze's feline monologue while he was being shown the special-care area.

"They're right," Curze answered bluntly. "Now, Malcharion here is very old and needs his food mushed up with some water."

"Okay. But you don't seem too crazy right now."

Curze paused and looked at him. "I have good days and bad days," he said. "Today is a good day. Do not under any circumstances let Gendor near any of the other cats' food," he added, pointing at a malevolent-looking grey tabby. "He is entirely untrustworthy."

In the end they agreed that Sevatar would be back at nine the next morning, but when the next morning came he woke up at half past eight with no possible way to get to 8th Street on time.

So he gave up and just kind of wandered around, smoking and making vague plans to skip town. That was something people did, after all. Just vanishing one day.

His thoughts were interrupted by a blurry black shape looming up in his peripherial vision. It quickly resolved itself into Konrad Curze and his cat-hair-covered turtleneck who grabbed him forcefully.

"You should be at the cat shelter," Curze rasped, somehow making the phrase into the most terrifying threat Sevatar had ever heard. The taller man had him pinned up against the wall, just about lifting him off his feet through sheer wiry strength, but then he suddenly drew back.

"You weigh hardly anything, Sevatar," he said. "When did you last eat?"

Sevatar told him, and that was how the man who up until that point had seemed intent on killing him insisted on going to the nearest diner instead.

Curze sat opposite him in their booth with a cup of coffee while Sevatar, who had taken the statement to get whatever you want well and truly to heart, was working his way through a cheeseburger, fries, soda, milkshake and a sundae the size of a toddler.

"Today hasn't been a good day," Curze said, as if that explained everything. "I'm given to understand that for you it's this or prison. Is that right?"

Sevatar shrugged. "And, so what if it is?"

Curze thought for a moment, clasping his long fingers around his coffee cup.

"It's very much the same for me," he said eventually. "If I fail at this I'll be of no use at all to my father the Mayor, as Horus so endearingly puts it."

"Is that so?" Sevatar said, or at least intended to say, around a mouthful of burger. It came out as more of a generic inquisitive sound which didn't seem to bother Curze.

"The next step from there would be a long stay at an institution somewhere very far away and, I think, an eventful appointment with a lobotomist. It would be as if I never existed at all."

"That's rough," Sevatar said, not entirely unkindly.

Curze gave a rueful smile. "That's my father," he replied. "He's done it before with his little disappointments. Did you know there used to be twenty of us?"

"No," Sevatar replied, "I didn't know that."

On impulse, he wiped the fry grease off on his white T-shirt and then held out his hand to Curze.

"I'll make you a deal," he said. "Let's help each other to stay out of institutions as long as we can. Just don't try to kill me again."

They shook hands and started discussing how to herd cats.

[madclan]

Ok but

That some could be about them! Just imagine

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲: 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐢’𝐬

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I don’t have an official group name for the golden bananas, but suggestions are welcome!

“𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝘽𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙄𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙘” will be used as translation language for high gothic and others.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // Near Death, Blood.

|°𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬°| |°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| • {𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧} • {𝐃𝐨𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐬} • {𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐤}

Cold, stone walls pressed against my clothing as I made a tight fit sideways through a small opening in the abandoned structure. Water splashing up onto my boots every time I take a step through the narrow and withering corridor. It was almost claustrophobic to be in such a narrow space with rocks threatening to dig into your skin at each move, water dripping from the more pointed edges.

This… rocky place was something that looks like it held some monumental significance to it. A temple perhaps? Though, no one was absolutely sure of it. Too scared to go past the couple mile long, dark vibes it gave off until some travelers thought it was a good idea to explore it ourselves, me included.

I wasn’t up for it at first; being the more level headed one out of the stranger group. Why would you want to explore something that has been avoid by its people for centuries? That right there had to be a big red flag. There was a reason why the people didn’t go and figure out what was beyond the bad vibes. Even had some elderly and young natives wish us well in their languages! How much more warnings do we need to stop the group from going in?

Apparently, a lot of warnings.

The bad vibes and the fair-welling natives was not enough for the overzealous group. Neither was the cracked and broken statues of armored beings at the entrance of the flora ridden building; vines, mushrooms and ferns growing all around it, camouflaging the whole thing. It was almost impossible to even catch a glimpse of the monument. There were even deep caverns filled with dark blue, almost black waters that could send a shiver down anyone’s spine if you think of what could be lurking down there; a whirlpool or a really big python perhaps?

I shiver at the both possible outcomes of that watery situation, accidentally nicking my shoulder plate on some rock as I grunt at the numbness vibrating through my nerves there. Briefly stoping to bite my tongue in the process. If all this subtle bruising is not a red flag or a curse of just being inside of this monument, I really don’t know what is. I normally wasn’t clumsy in situations like this.

“Hurry up, I want to see what’s pass this corridor.” The man behind me nudges me forward. My teeth pressing more into my tongue to stop myself from lashing out at the man. Forcing myself to continue on through for my sanity’s sake.

This man was the most annoying, cockiest one in the group. Always ordering other people around when he could clearly do it himself. He was like that rich person in movies that never gets their hands dirty, like they were afraid of it while his pawns do all the work for them. It was driving me crazy. I didn’t come into the monument with them to be a pawn for him, let alone anyone.

“Can’t you go a little quicker?” The man grumbles, his hands pushing up against my shoulder in an anxiety inducing effort to hurry up the exploration. “I’ve seen how fast you walked here. Why can’t you do the same in here?”

‘Because we are in a cave?’ I wanted to hiss out at the man. Chew his ass out, but I didn’t want to get into a fight with him in these mysterious caverns that push a lot of weight down onto your shoulders the deeper you go. That deep, lingering, unknown feeling is just enough to keep me in my place.

“Calm down, Mr. Wilson.” I speak back at the man, brushing off my shoulders when the corridor opens up just enough for me to do so. “What we are exploring for is not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Yeah, well, I want to get to it first.” He snarks back, pushing himself up to the front, shoving me out of the way, an annoyed huff coming out of me. “I want to be the first person to see these artifacts.”

Artifacts? How does he even know there was artifacts down here? He didn’t mention anything about him being an Archaeologist. He just seemed like a snob.

Perhaps, that was his ruse? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Humanity can be a very selfish bunch. Not only that, but seeing a lot of movies like Indiana Jones can make it easy to sense who is your foe or friend in these types of situations.

“You didn’t mention anything about artifacts.” I question the man, carefully watching how he hesitates a step of his as I follow behind him.

“I didn’t? Hmmm, well, it was said on some stone slab founded in the sea that where we walk holds some type of significance to it.” He informs me, his body crouching to get through another corridor of chopped rock. “It said who ever finds it has the protection of a thousands of seas, and based on evidence of Astartes. I conclude that it really means thousands of seas, thousands of planets.”

“Astartes? Those are real?” I can’t help but ask the suspicious male. Having only heard about those creatures in myths, childhood stories and nursery rhymes.

“Yes, very much so!” He saids almost enthusiastically, stopping in the middle of a… chamber? “The myths and stories you hear about them are quite real.”

“Why do they choose to become myth then?” I question yet again. Wondering of their�� secrecy. My eyes looking around the abandoned chamber while I shuffle my boots through the small layer of water. Spotting what were suppose to be legends. “Why hide?”

5 tall and bulky statues were carved perfectly into the rocky wall around the chamber. Their scale-like tails being used to decorate the rest of the wall between the statues, being a pleasing filler rather than having a blank wall. They also had different colors on them, old, ancient paint chipping off of them. Each one even had a different design to them, but their main shape stayed the same. Where these a species of Astartes?

“From us! We are simply too overbearing for them. Too strong.” The man says a bit too proudly for my liking, his hands digging into the tan fanny pack of his around his waist.

I hum at his response. Not really believing his words that a creature like this could be afraid of humanity. They looked way too powerful themselves to even be swayed by humanity itself. Maybe… they have found a distaste with humanity? Found them to be below them?

“Anyways, you are standing right where I want you.” The man suddenly speaks fast, a small shink coming from behind me. “Right on the sacrificial stones.”

Alarmed, I quickly turned around, gasping with no noise. My eyebrows scrunching up in confusion as I lift my hand up to my neck. Slick making my fingers skim across my neck.

“I really meant it when I was going to be the first.” The man spoke clearly at first, but then his words start to mumble, blending into a layer of voices. My knees giving out from underneath me as I kneel into the cold water with a seemingly echoing splash, my other arm keeping me up from drowning myself in a layer of water. My pants soaking up the water up to my thighs.

D-Did the man just really slash my throat? For just an artifact? An artifact that might not even be here nor exist anymore? That was probably useless to him? That he was just going to sell for “The Big Money?”

“…𝙇𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚.” A small, echoing whisper comes to my mind when I gasp for air that I can’t have anymore. My hands struggling to keep my own sticky blood inside of me as I look up at the man who slashed my throat. His mouth mumbling nonsense at me. His glob of a hand flipping his… weapon through his fingers.

“𝙇𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚.” I nearly cry out at this voice that suddenly becomes all to loud. A migraine forming as I lean tiredly, back down into the cold water. Trying to decipher if I was loosing too much of my blood and I was going crazy, or there actually was somebody actually talking to me.

“𝙇𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙪𝙥… 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚.” A few more voices join in, coaxing me to look up with a weakening body. My limbs shaking at the effort to see a blinding yellow enrapturing my blurry vision.

“𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙… 𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙪𝙨, 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚.” The voices whisper, echo inside of my mind. Strong hands taking a hold of my jaw, thumbing at my cheeks. A bloody whine bubbling from my throat as I cough red upon rich gold.

“𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙪𝙨… 𝙮𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙬𝙣.” This… entity offers. Cooing and purring when I gradually grow more and more weak in its hold. Scumming to its unrequited offer.

“𝙁𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜.” The voices become one of their own; warm yet barren. A soft, but rough warmth pressing up against my lips before my own senses slowly fade to fail me. More warmth pressing up against my neck and shoulder plate, easing my wounds as I fall into the icy dark.