#Blood Angels

[kumratart]

Sanguinius dying in a glue trap

[thememestrider]

Okay this art isn't mine, I found it on Pinterest, but it made me laugh so fucking hard I just had to share it.

[thememestrider]

Bro is so pretty he should be a Blood Angel

[candyswirls]

Space Marine Cuddle Pile Pt 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Writing Master post

Cuddly boys are back! Come join in the pile!

@lazywriter-artist @wolf-feathers12

Imagine:

A chaplain sitting on the floor. One Astartes leaning against him. Another rests their head on his lap. A third rests again the Chaplains back. He has his arms around the two marines he can reach. They witnessed their brother torn apart by daemons then be possessed. They had to grant him the Emperor’s mercy. It is the chaplain’s job to comfort and guide them.

A very disgruntled Ad Mech. They’d been warned. Several times. They’re drinking. Don’t go in there. You won’t be able to do any work. Yet they brushed it off. Now they were pinned against a Space Wolf’s chest, the arm of one and the leg of another on top of them. They all drooled snd snored loudly as they curled up with one another. The Ad Mech was stuck there for a bit. They would not be finishing their tasks anytime soon. The one whose chest they were on wrapped his arms around them and sleepily nuzzled their head.

A Sanguinary Priest holding onto a blood Angel that experienced the Red Thirst for the first time. Comforting the battle brother as he cries for the terror of it or if he caused any casualties.

A Drukhari is absolutely mortified. What they initially thought was an attack was not. They stand there, stiff as a board and utterly confused and not sure if they should be disgusted or not. The warband of chaos marines they had been with suddenly surrounded them then plopped themselves on the floor and wrapped their arms around each other. Drukhari in the middle. Is… is this some new… kind of torture? Psychological warfare?? It’s so warm and they seem.. happy?? These are the same marines they had flailed people with not even hours earlier and now they were doing… this.

The Lion and Guilliman have just reunited. There’s been official ceremony between both of their legions. Speaking to inquisitors and imperial high lords. Then the paperwork. Throne the paperwork. Then a feast. It’s been so much but now… it’s just the two of them. The only moment they’ve had since finding each other again. There’s so many unspoken emotions. Both positive and negative. The two brothers stare at each other, weary of what the other will do. Yet there is relief. Relief of no longer being alone. Neither can seem to find the words so they go off of instinct. The longing to embrace and be embraced. The two hug, standing in silence. There’s nothing that action can’t speak for in this moment. Resting heads against each other, arms tight and fully encompassing the other. The imperium was slowly rebuilding. There were so many enemies. But it was okay. They weren’t alone. They were brothers. They’d support each other.

Every so often an “unlucky” custodian ends up surround by imperial fists. There’s no cause for alarm or defensive stance though. The Custodian just sighs and allows the Fists to lead them to where they’ve strategically set up various blankets, pillows, mattresses, and tapestries. Armor racks await near it to be used. All remove their armor and snuggle up close to the Custodian. Custodes are bigger than Space Marines. Being held by one feels safe and a bit like being held by a Primarch. It doesn’t happen too often and there’s always at least one custodian who will oblige. Plus, holding marines like babies is cute to them. The Sisters of Silence said so.

The invasion had been stopped. Carnage of tyranids lay everywhere. There’s one lone space marine that is in your village. Cut off from their squad as they defended you and your people. He waits patiently for his brothers to find him. You go up and place an arm over his, wishing to comfort him. This is what led to him lying on the ground with as many villagers he can hold. Since he saved you, you decide not to question it.

The Ravenguard have a set room for cuddle piles. It’s lovingly referred to as the nest. The softest blankets and pillows possible. Shiny objects decorate the walls and floor. It’s very well taken care of. No armor allowed in to prevent crushing anything or tearing fabric. You better have cleaned yourself up and gotten all that grime off of you before you step in. The chaplain is watching. It seems small but so many ravenguard can fit in there like sardines in a can. Curled up in blankets and around each other. Don’t tell Kayvaan but some marines have actually forgotten where their room is because they always sleep in here.

The Emperor claimed he had no regrets. But now he most certainly had one. He lay there, dying and fading away. Sanguinius’s body is off to one side and the body of Horus to the other. He thinks back to the vow he made. He wouldn’t get attached to his sons. It caused weakness. He would not hug or embrace them. This was too important. Yet now his heart ached. He wished he could have held them all at once in his arms when they were babies. To have greeted them with an embrace. Call them all to his room and roost around his bed as he held them. He wished he had. At least once. Especially the ones now dead. Two and eleven included. He had no strength left. He couldn’t crawl to the two bodies near him and hold them. After all, he was a cuddly man by nature. The Astartes and primarchs all got it from somewhere.

Even after turning to chaos, Fulgrim had days where memories and emotions overwhelmed him. Sending him into deep melancholy. It was these days that N’Kari would wrap themselves around him and clasp their arms around him. Have him surrounded by soft warmth. Some days he just wanted to be held.

A few orks once spotted a space marine cuddle pile. It must be some sort of strategy or trick. It seemed to make those beaky gits fight better. They don’t know its purpose or what it’s for but they attempt their own cuddle pile. The biggest lays down first then the others and finally the gobbos. It’s silent for a few moments as they try to figure out what it does. One snorts and struggles to hold in laughter. It’s followed by snickering and hushing. It’s another that breaks first. It’s now just a big pile of laughing and giggling shrooms.

[edgar-allan-possum]

First time painting minis. They're not perfect, but they're done.

[wh40kartwork]

Blood Angels

by fat-elf

[thememestrider]

This is making me feel things

>

I did it

@flammenwerferpanzerkampfhund

[mahleb]

Request from one chat, the first meeting of Lorgar with the brothers XD Request text: "The first brothers Lorgar met were Magnus and Sanguinius, whom he mistook for an angel and a demon. And therefore he, as a religious man, studiously ignored them, so as not to show his father that he was hallucinating, despite their friendliness and some resentment for being ignored"

[maniakminis]

So those new Blood Angels

[thememestrider]

So badass and so cute, all at the same time.

I love my bleeding heart taxi boys sm

A Lamenter and Ogryn form an unlikely friendship

[ruoyuart]

We back with new comics, babeyyyy!

Please, if you want to support me to keep making content like this, consider supporting my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/ruoyuart!

[thememestrider]

Inspired by @solspina and their wonderful Dante fics- sis thank you for giving our beautiful depressed angel man the love he deserves, and I hope my fic will be worthy of adding to the library.

"Let Me Take Care of You" - Dante x Reader

Sypnosis: Dante is reeling from wounds he sustained during the Devastation of Baal, both physical and psychological. Thankfully, though, you are there to help pick up the pieces.

Author's Note: I've decided to make the reader a perpetual because I hc that Dante would struggle to fall in love with someone he knew he would outlive (poor man has been thru so much) has no real bearing over the plot of the fic, but thought it was worth noting.

Content Warnings: Angst, reverse hurt/comfort, pre-established relationship, general 40k-ness, descriptions of blood and wounds, lore inaccuracies, Dante is a very tired and traumatised boi, reader is G/N but I wrote them as a female in my mind, I wrote this at midnight while on a plane, so this isn't edited or proofread XD

Across his hundreds of centuries of service, Dante has become many things. To his brothers, he is their stalwart leader; to the people of the Imperium, he is a legend; to the enemies of humanity, he is an angel of death. But to you, he is none of these things. To you, he is your husband. Your beloved. The man you hold most close to your heart. That means that, when he leaves for a mission, where others anticipate victory, you worry for his safety. And, when he finally returns home, you rush to him, not to congratulate him on his victory, but to study him for injury or distress. More often than not, you will find nothing.

Tonight is different.

You're in bed when he arrives, quietly reading a book borrowed from his library. The door slides open with a hiss, and you look up to see your husband standing in the doorway of your shared quarters. His hair falls over his shoulders in thick curtains of black and silver and he's dressed in a red robe that's sinched at his waist. It accentuates the sculpt of his chest and shoulders beautifully, but that is not what draws your eye. Rather, it is the darkness under his soft, hazel eyes, and the way he is hunched slightly over his left side. Without looking away, you shut your book with a snap.

"You're hurt," you say.

Dante smiles tiredly. "It's nothing, my love," he says. Closing the door behind him, he starts towards the bed. Before he reaches it, though, you throw of the covers, climb out of bed, and meet him half way. You kiss him lightly on the lips in greeting, snaking your arms around his waist as you do. "It doesn't look like nothing," you say into his shoulder. "You going to tell me what happened?" As you embrace him, an involuntary sigh escapes Dante's lips. You feel him lean into you, as if all of a sudden, he could not stand without you holding him up. Despite your lingering concern, it makes you smile. You squeeze him a little tighter.

Suddenly Dante's sigh becomes a grimace.

You pull away, throat tightening as your worry returns with a vengeance. "I knew it," you whisper.

"Sweetheart, it's nothing" Dante says again. "I promise, I-"

He winces again, face turning pale. Suddenly he's unsteady on his feet and staggers forwards. You manage to catch him just in time. "Easy, easy. I've got you." A white lie; all that muscle and cybernetic enhancement of his makes Dante unbearably heavy. Already, your entire upper body is shaking trying to keep him upright. Of course, you don't tell him that. Nor to you allow him to see it.

"I'm sorry," Dante says. He sounds breathless. "I... I'm just fatigued, is all."

"No point lying to me now," you murmur. "Come on. Bed. Now."

Dante makes a sound of exasperation, but he doesn't resist. Carefully, you guide him towards your bed, easing him down to sit on its edge. The frame creaks under his weight. Dante winces again as he sits down. One of his hands shoots up to clutch the left side of his chest.

Crouching before him, you touch his cheek with your palm. "Will you let me see?"

Dante doesn't answer right away. For a moment, you're afraid he's about to argue with you. But either he's in too much pain to bother, or he sees the defiance in your eyes and realises it would be futile.

"Left pectoral," he croaks. "Just below my primary heart."

Your own heart falters. That's the same place he had been wounded during the Devastation of Baal- where a tyranid Swarm Lord had sliced him open and left him for dead. With a feather-light touch, you peel open Dante's robe. Slipping it off his shoulders to expose his bare chest.

His muscles are tense, the hollows of his collar bones deepening as he clenches his jaw. It's as you suspected- the gash carved into him by the Swarm Lord has ruptured. The skin around the wound is angry and inflamed. Blood trickles over his chest and down his stomach in thin streams.

Dante sees the look on your face and attempts a smile. "I must've reopened it while in combat," he says. "But I swear, it isn't as bad as it looks."

You give him an unamused look. "No," you answer. "No, I think it's worse."

Dante opens his mouth to retort, but you cut him off. "Don't move. I'll be back in a second." You get to your feet and hurry to the ensuite, gathering up the first aid kit you have reserved for situations such as this. When you return, your husband is leaned forwards and breathing hard. His skin is now the colour of a corpse.

Anxiety climbs up your throat at the sight of him like this, but you swallow it with a gulp. Now is not the time for worry anymore; you have a job to do.

You crouch in front of Dante again and set the first aid kit down beside you. Gently, you bring your hands to his face. "Luis," you whisper. "Luis, look at me."

He lifts his head. His expression is a mix of pain and shame. "I'm alright," he says softly. "Really. I just-" he grimaces. "-I just need a moment."

You struggle to keep your eyes from watering. It breaks your heart to see him like this. You know Dante struggles with the weight of responsibility: as a chapter master, as a lord regent, as a living legend of the Imperium. All these duties- all of which enough to break most men on their own- have no room for weakness or weariness. And the fact that Dante holds himself to a standard nigh impossible to achieve, even for him, only adds to the already crushing weight he has carried for over one thousand years. Carried for so long, he sometimes forgets that when he's with you, he can shed that weight for a time.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, you lean in close until your foreheads kiss. Despite his earlier insistances, Dante melts at the touch. His shoulders sag. The muscles of his chest release. After a moment, he even closes his eyes.

"This wound is old," he suddenly says. "It should have healed weeks ago."

You raise you head so you can meet his gaze. "You haven't given it the chance to; the second you were awake, you were back in the field. You should've been bed ridden for weeks. Throne, you should be bed ridden now."

Dante averts his eyes. "I couldn't." His voice is little more than a murmur. "I can't."

Still cupping his cheeks in both hands, you plant a long, loving kiss on his lips. When you pull away, you say, "You're tired, Luis. You're hurt. And you can't do your job when you're either, let alone both. I know you hate to admit it, but it's the truth."

Dante doesn't reply. His eyes remain firmly on the floor.

"Luis, please look at me." You use his given name rather than that favoured by everyone else. To remind him that you aren't everyone else. That the mask of strength and infallibility he puts on for the rest of the galaxy can come off when he's with you.

Eventually, your husband lifts his gaze. The expression you find there makes you want to drag him into your arms and hold him there forever. It also makes you resent the Imperium and the galaxy as a whole for causing him this much hurt. Fearing you might cry if you didn't, you kiss him again. Longer and more deeply than any time before. Dante returns the kiss in kind, using his free hand to gently grasp your chin and keep you close. You breathe in his scent, feel him do the same. He's the first to pull away, but it's only because another, involuntary grimace suddenly grips him.

"You need to rest now, Luis," you say once he recovers. "You need to rest and you need to heal. Let me take care of you. You deserve it. By the Emperor, if anyone in the world deserves it, it's you."

Dante looks at you with so much affection and gratitude, it makes your heart stammer. Tilting his head, he leans into your palms and closes his eyes again. "I don't know how I managed for so long without you," he whispers.

You plant a kiss on his forehead. "You'll never have to again," you promise.

Eyes still closed, he only nods.

Slowly, as if afraid you might wake him, you reach for the first aid kit and extract a needle, sutures and anti-septic spray. "Right, let's get you stitched up, then. You've bled all over our bed enough already, I think."

Dante huffs out a single, smirking laugh. "Please, my love. Don't kick me while I'm down."

You smile. It falters slightly as you raise your impliments. "Okay, my love. Brace yourself; this might sting a little."

Dante opens one eye. "Trust me," he says ruefully. "It can't hurt anymore than it already does."

A/N: I didn't really know how to end it properly, so sorry if it feels a bit abrupt.

[jacobpking]

THE PRIMARCHS - Sons of the Emperor (NEW!) I've made a bunch of tweaks and improvements to my Primarch chart, including a bigger key, better lighting and shading and better contrast. With this project, I wanted a diverse set of Primarchs to reflect more of the human race. - Dorn as an Inuit - Lorgar as Levantine (Christ) - Alpharius as Persian (Order of Assassins) - Corax as Native American (Cree) - Horus & Magnus as Egyptian With better lighting I can show that vision more clearly

[enerisarchive]

By the blood of Sanguinius 🩸

[alternativeminiatures]

Source @Mick19988

[jinian-ginias]

Modern (m03)AU, the great angel