#Glory to the Sanguinius!

[emperor-church]

Святой Сангвиний, который приносит нам благословение от Императора, благослови меня положить благое начало, исправление нерадивой моей жизни, да угожу во всем Императору Защитнику моему во веки. Saint Sanguinius, who brings us the blessing of the Emperor, bless me to make a good beginning, to correct my careless life, so that I may please the Emperor my Protector in everything forever.

(art by Chenart)

[shardofasoul]

[Book Excerpt|The Devastation of Baal]Dante's Vision of Sanguinius

The Sanguinor had come to him at the end of his service.

‘You came,’ he said. His throat was dry, his lips numb. The beautiful voice that had inspired millions was a harsh whisper. ‘You came after all.’

The Sanguinor kept its silence, but stood back and flung an arm wide to indicate a greater presence behind it.

Dante’s breath caught in his chest. Once again, he saw the face of Sanguinius, but this was no metal representation. The face was of flesh, the wings that spread either side of his body were white feathers, not cold sculpture. His body was as real as his sorrow. He shone like a desert sun in the full glory of noon, a bringer of light dangerous in its incandescent power.

‘My son,’ Sanguinius said. ‘My greatest son.’

The primarch reached out to him. Dante was on his back, but at the same time it was as if he floated in an immense void, and Sanguinius hovered in front of him. And yet, when the primarch cried, his tears fell forward onto Dante’s face. All reality’s order was disturbed, but this felt like no dream or vision. When Sanguinius’ glowing fingers traced the line of Dante’s cheek, they were solid and warm, and they brought into him a sense of peace and holy joy.

'You have suffered greatly for mankind’s sake,’ said Sanguinius. His voice was beautiful. ‘You have won your rest a thousand times. Rarely has one man given so much, Luis of Baal Secundus. You have been a light in dark times. I would give you any reward. I would take you to my side. I would free you from strife. I would release you from pain.’

‘Yes!’ said Dante. ‘Please. I have served so long. Grant me the freedom of death.’

Sanguinius gave Dante a look of profound sorrow.

‘I cannot. I regret that I can do none of those things. I need you, Dante. Your suffering is not done.’ Sanguinius gripped Dante’s face in both hands. Strength flowed from the primarch, driving out death’s comfort and replacing it with pain. The scene rippled. He heard the shouts of Space Marines, felt the ghostly touch of living hands upon his armour. Sanguinius faded.

‘Please, no!’ Dante cried out. ‘My lord, I have done enough. Please! Let me rest!’

The light was dying; Sanguinius’ smile carried with it the sorrows of ten thousand years. Darkness was returning. The Great Angel disappeared into it, but his glorious voice lingered a moment.

‘I am sorry, my son, that you cannot rest. Not yet. Live, my son. Live.’

Dante returned to life screaming for the mercy of death.

Hands were all over Dante, holding him down. Sharp pains intruded via his neural shunts.

‘No, no, no! No more! Take me with you! I beg you!’ Dante shouted.

He lashed out with his fist. Metal hit metal.

‘Hold him! Hold him down! He is coming round!’

[solspina]

how good are you at angst vesp…

can i get angst scenarios for guilliman, horus, sanguinius, konrad, and my beloved leman russ :3 plot is entirely yours!

i’m horrible with angst but my inbox is open for a reason, ask and you shall receive. also, this isn’t edited or revised so i’m sorry for mistakes :(

tw: the usual, blood probably, spoilers, horus and sanguinius’ stories are tied together

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Roboute Guilliman had known you since childhood. A great friend of his family, beloved by both his mother and father, both whom shared lighthearted jokes about the primarch being united with you in marriage someday. They were never jokes to him. A life with you was what he wanted, a dream of his.

And yet a sword pierced his father’s heart and your hand was on the blade. You may as well have placed a second blade into Guilliman’s chest just as deeply as you had the first, the way that your face held no remorse and your body trembled from exhaustion. His father had tried to fight you, the story told from the several bleeding cuts littered your body, as did blood that came from no cuts at all. Your hands were soaked in red.

And just as the stories told his father would be avenged by the hand of Guilliman. He went down a hero, and you unknowingly went down a traitor of the imperium, your name in no history books.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Horus Lupercal had been there when his brother had rejected your incredibly obvious advances at him, too caught up in his self-centered idea of godhood to understand what your words truly meant, that there was meaning behind them. He had been there, he had comforted you, hung his arm around you once his brother had left the scene, and yet you rejected his own offer when he had asked you to join the Sons of Horus and leave your old life behind, just as you had told Sanguinius you wanted to.

And what a loyal little thing you were. Your arms outstretched over his brother’s body, begging him not to deal the final blow. Sanguinius was in the midst of taking his final breaths, and you wouldn’t let Horus have the glory of ending his “perfect” brother’s life. You were small, you were not enough. He made sure he left you alive and unharmed to watch the angel be thrown to the other side of the room before he struck him one last time. You still ran after him as if playing fetch and part of him wished you were, so that maybe you would tear the angels wings from his back and hold them like they were your trophy.

Horus took the moment you had your back turned to stab you in it, making sure you would never reach the angel. Perhaps he would grant you both one final mercy. As the shadows crawled from the depths to pin Sanguinius against the wall like a crucified sinner, he made sure you were pinned just the same next to him. If you were going to be loyal, fine by him. You would be loyal in life and in death.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Sanguinius knew he was beloved by all, it was part of his daily life if he were being honest. When you approached him, small and trembling, to tell him you loved him, he laughed. To love a being you viewed as your god was standard, was it not?

No. you loved him. He’d seen the way humans had behaved around each other when they felt love. They held each other close in their arms. Caressed parts of each other tenderly, hands, arms, faces, gentle touches he’d long accepted he could never have. The humans who surrounded him idolized him far too much to lay their hands on any part of him, for he was far too pure. He’d accepted that this love from godhood was the only love he would ever obtain. Humans may be capable of loving primarchs, but not mutants, not him.

And yet you were the last thing he saw before his vision faded to nothing, the last thing he felt before his heart ceased to beat. You kneeled over him, a feeble and weak human attempt to protect him from the unforgiving strikes of Horus. You could not protect him. He lay with his back against the wall, bleeding, weakened, your primarch robbed of his glory. You grabbed his hand, holding it as gently as you possibly could. Horus seemed to hesitate, allowing his brother a moment of peace as you held his hand. You had been stabbed by Horus too, a fatal wound for a human, yet you remained strong for your primarch, your hands running delicately through the feathers of his broken wing.

Sanguinius took his final breaths, and yet he smiled ever so slightly. He was loved. The final blow had ended both of your lives, the shadows that approached to hang the angel on the wall like a trophy grabbed your body alongside his, hanging him up as if he had been crucified, and you in the crease of his wing. In life and in death, he realized far too late that he was loved.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Had you rejected Konrad Curze, he would’ve felt no different than his usual daily attitude. By some miracle, though, you hadn’t rejected him. You hadn’t turned away, you never would turn away and that you promised him. A promise you would break, inevitably.

It was incredibly tough to help him recover his mental health following his difficult childhood, incredibly draining, at that. So when his health started to decline during the heresy, you could no longer take it, and your promise was nothing but severed twine scattered across the floor. He’d try to track you down, to make things right, to make things better.

You were gone when he finally reached you. Physically there, but your heart no longer beat in your chest. He had become a primarch, stronger than he was on his home world, and even at his strongest he had failed you.

Execution seemed too merciful of a fate for him, but he’d take that mercy with open arms.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Leman Russ, the emperor’s most loyal (self proclaimed) son knew nothing but loyalty after being raised by wolves. Your loyalty back to him was an easy pledge, and he loved you dearly, no more than he loved the emperor and his cause.

When you fell to sickness upon his cold planet, your immune system had obviously and inevitably weakened to a near impossible point of return, and it was during a clash with a squadron of plague marines. Leman kept you as far away from the front lines as he could. He would be unable to forgive himself if you died, or worse, fell into the clutches of Nurgle.

But by Nurgle’s grace, you were granted freedom from your sickness. You hadn’t died, no, that would be too simple a fate for you. The unforgiving clutches of chaos would make sure you never felt this ill again. You’d never turn your back on the chaos god, lest your beautifully gruesome gifts become gifts no longer.

Leman spared you one final sorrowful gaze as you retreated with your newfound army, your skin already discord and your eyes looking like they could fall from your once gorgeous face at any second. For a moment, he swore he saw the same expression in your chaos filled eyes. Sorrow, fear, heartbreak.

[galgannet]

Despite all heretical books, the feat of the Great Angel will never be forgotten. The vile traitor will receive a worthy punishment. No one will ever remember his name, his images will be erased from all sources of information. The angel is beautiful, the angel is great. Glory to Sanguinius. (If you want, there may be a short continuation.)

[angronsjewelbeetle]

Another one because fuck it it's nearly midnight and these are FUN DAMMIT Lmao floriography interest coming in clutch here

What kind of flowers do (some of) the primarchs gift you ~♡

Includes: Corvus, Magnus, Vulkan, Fulgrim, Jaghatai, Angron, Konrad, Ferrus, Lorgar, Sanguinius, Dorn

Corvus: dark red roses and gloxina. dark red roses symbolise loyalty, love and eternal beauty, and gloxina represents love at first sight.

Magnus: rainbow roses, and glowing primroses. Roses because they're romantic and they're rainbow because "Magnus how did you-" "-I have my ways, my dear. Do you like them?", and primroses symbolise youthful love, a representation of how he feels a little more young when he's with you. How are the primroses glowing. Magnus please tell me they aren't deadly. Please.

Vulkan: pink roses and violets, they're a little singed on some of the petals and stems, but they're still pretty. Pink roses because they symbolise both romantic love and platonic - you are both his best friend and his greatest treasure - the light of his heart, and also sweetness. Violets symbolise faithfulness. Enough said.

Fulgrim: Hibiscus and morning glory. Morning glory symbolise affection and determination and the hibiscus, beauty and happiness - your beauty brings him such a profound sense of happiness, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Ferrus: White roses and hydrangeas. White roses symbolise new beginnings and wisdom, and hydrangeas thankfulness and understanding.

Lorgar: lilies, phlox and gladiola. Lilies symbolise majesty and virtue, phlox unanmity and harmony. Also I'm pretty sure they're both toxic, and yet, they're beautiful. Gladiolus symbolise strength of character and moral integrity.

Konrad: a handful of Venice mallows with some of the roots still on and a single tuberose with...a...bite? Taken out of it? Venice mallows symbolise delicate, fleeting beauty, and tuberose symbolise dangerous pleasure. Konrad thought the mallows were pretty. The tuberose smelt nice. That's why Konrad ate it. It didn't taste as good as it smelt. Sorry, Konrad.

Khan: hyacinth and peonies. Hyacinths symbolise playfulness and peonies prosperity and compassion.

Sanguinius: bellflowers, sweet Williams and pansies. Bellflowers symbolise gratitude, sweet Williams symbolise gallantry and ask to "grant me a single smile", and pansies symbolise sweet thoughts.

Rogal: amaryllis, asters and false indigo. Amaryllis symbolise determination and creative achievement, asters symbolise elegance and patience - he will wait for you. He will always wait for you. - and false indigo symbolise immersion and intuition. He loves you. He truly does.

Angron: daffodils and lilacs, the stems are crushed, but the flowers themselves are unharmed. You do have to pry them from his hand though. Lilacs symbolise the first emotions of love and daffodils symbolise rebirth and new beginnings. They won't last that long with the mutilated stems, but they're lovely while they do.

[corvusspecialartist]

Beautiful Caged Bird:

You were an esteemed fighter pilot. You have served the Imperium well, ever since you were inducted in the Imperial Guard years ago. Coming from semi noble birth, this would have been one of the few ways, you could gain glory for your house. Ever since you were young, and on your home planet. You have always enjoyed the flight patterns of hunting birds, and even kept some as cherished pets. You always thought that they were the most perfect predators, just beautiful. Unfortunately, as you grew older, and life taught you a few things… you were wrong. The perfect avian predator that you knew of, was the Lord Primarch Sanguinius.

You were on campaign when you had met… you and your regiment were fighting a wild Eldar Host To be honest, you never truly liked them bastards, but you were the closest thing that was optimal air support that could be done. You were flying high in the air, approaching certain doom. You flew in formation, but soon you both would break. From previous experience, you knew, despite the thought being mere disgust in your mind… that the Eldar had better flying tech.. but no matter. You were only meant as cannon fodder no more, no less.

Then, as the Eldar came, before your eyes, your comrades were shot down in planes, almost as if a group of falcons were feasting on herd of ducks. But, no matter what, you held firm. Gripping the well-worn controls, you bobbed and weaved, avoiding most of the fire from the enemy craft. You knew the cockpit of your plane as if it was new limb. You swooped down noticing a large robot thing… instinctively you patted the plane purring to it. "Lets do this old girl" maybe, this was a way for you to soothe the machine spirit. You went and started to fly down.. applying as many G's as you could handle bumping up the speed into a dive bomb. The robot thing, turned and almost seemed to face you, but you turned your controls over trying to spin it over. It was no matter, you were a certified ace in the field. You had the trophies as proof.

However, things did not go to your plan. The robot thing moved with lighting speed and soon you noticed that you were loosing altitude quickly. You had to eject. After whispering a quick goodbye to the plane, you ejected from the plane. Honestly it pained you…watching as the plane flew and crashed. It gave you some form of pleasure that it landed in the center of the Eldar. Still… you adjusted trying to get your parachute out. Feeling, the blood go towards your head.. you noted that your parachute wasn't working and you felt the heated air as you started to fall and fall… You turned and closed your eyes, hopefully, at least you took some of the bastards with you.

Honestly, you were expecting brief pain, and oblivion until you felt wind and you started to move in a different direction. Nervously you opened your eyes… it was him.. the Great Angel,Lord Sanguinius. He was almost as perfect and even more so in the pictures… but honestly.. him.. just saving you like that… why you? You tried your best to not to look down. However, he was holding you in the crook of his arm, while holding his spear in the other hand. As you looked up at him, he was moving back to try and place you back in your regiment, at least you thought.

Now, you were in a golden gilded cage, screaming your head off and throwing the priceless art and trinkets at Sanguinius. It bounced off of him with almost a contemptuous ease, he seemed to stand there, just absorbing the hit.. almost as if he was he waiting for this latest tantrum to end. You continued to move quickly, just barely out of the reach of the serfs. Truly, you didn't want to be here, you wanted to be out on the field. The stagnant air within the room, the watchful eyes of both man and machine readying the alarm if you stepped out of the chambers. To add insult to injury, you swore that would could hear beautiful rare bird calls, as they flew down and called the sky their own.. like you used to. You walked up the Sanguinius and tried to push your way past him, but he moved to block you, and soon he quickly scooped you up. In that move you struggled and beat down on his back. He started to hum and soothe, moving you back and forth. His voice, it was so sonorous and beautiful…it knocked you out within a minute.

In your dreams, you were flying your plane… and you were just soaring. Until you saw the Sanguinius appear floating in front of the window. Instinctively you turned and tried to avoid him, but he pulled out the spear and sword and chopped the plane apart. Now you were falling and falling, as Sanguinius flew down and caught you. You pushed away and tried to fall back into the ground. You were at peace in the dream, until you woke up, smothered in Sanguinius' wings. It was comfortable but despite them being placed gently, it felt crushing… you felt your heart racing, as you moved in varying directions trying to push them off." Sanguinius, almost as if he were sensing your distress lifted his wing. You let out a sigh of relief, and let out a small welp as he grabbed you and started to preen over you.

He gave a softening grin. "What's wrong darling?… I heard you scream and freak out.. and are you alright?" You opened your mouth, trying to keep your heart rate consistent. But it would be hard to lie to him, since his abilities.. but he promised to not to read your mind. "It was just a nightmare…. my beloved." You gave a wide mouth smile, trying to sell the lie. Maybe you were trying to convince yourself. Sanguinius got up and pointed to a red dress. It was tailor made with hundreds of jewels and it fit your figure well. "We will be going to an event tonight… many dignitaries are coming. Our ship will be landing on the planet soon…" You nodded dumbly, as he got up and left.

As soon as he shut the door… you swore, but then you stopped… maybe… just maybe with Sanguinius being distracted you could escape. And it is not like he would miss you… You got dressed and started to prepare. Soon you would escape.

At the party, the host went and announced the arrival of Lord Sanguinius.. and with a small snide jab. "And his current consort." You gave a polished smile as you stood near barely hip height with him, and to be honest... he looked almost mythical.. his wings were decorated with finely golden strands with rubies inter spaced which made small noises as he walked. He wore a more Baalite fashion style, which many of the party goers tried to imitate. He wore beautiful embroidered robes with silken golden thread. His hair was curled into perfection, and you could even smell rare perfumes and spices that irradiated from him. It seemed to change depending on the light from black to blonde, he was smiling a warmly as you both went to the place of honor. You on the other hand compared to him, dressed very modestly and seemed to a speck of dirt. But, it didn't matter at the moment. It was a crucial moment... Sanguinius would naturally be distracted throughout the whole party.

It would come to pass, when you were rudely shoved aside, as a group of Navigators came by to Sanguinius trying to curry favor. You noticed his face turn into a light frown. But no matter, you gave a gentle grin to the primarch to try and soothe his temper. While, he had the good grace to not indulge his Thirst, he had to tendency of drinking more blood wine when under stress. In the meantime, you slowly moved away to the peripheral from the crowd, but not so far...You had to be careful, for moving in such a way could attract a knife in your back. But your outfit had come with the most finely protection, worthy of a favored consort.

"It is my turn to speak to the Great Angel! You had your chance!" A haughty nasal voice came out of the crowd. Some poor petty nobleman had tried to shout his way over to gain a rare audience of Sanguinius. But, given how contemptuous.. the party would probably begin with a brawl. Shaking you head, you started to run... you were out of practice sure, but you could find a place. You were dressed too nicely to be apart of any Underhive origin , but maybe you can commission a fighter jet to escape.

Hours upon hours had pasted... based on the way that the noises had become more quiet. You were at least leagues away from the party. You have been trying to stay out of the range by taking dark pathways and trying to avoid servants. You sat down to take a brief break... you were tired and feeling very thirsty... you dared to not drink any of the planet's water. But, you need a place to hide, and so you decided to crawl into a large vent, it was dusty.. long abandoned and based on the older stained.. it was used for servitors. Maybe you could take a brief rest.

You were shocked out of your rest as a loud alarm came out of nowhere. It was

' voice... and it filled you with dread.. yet it sounded so sweet and kind, he tried to call your name and try to bribe you out of your hiding spot. Internally, you just couldn't, you were so close... freedom.

Cursing, you thought about not changing your clothing... but just your luck.. a female servant was walking by your hiding spot. Immediately you grabbed her and put her in a headlock. After a good struggle, she was unconscious. Immediately you stripped off the party goer's clothing and replaced it with the servants clothing. It was mostly clean.. but no matter... as long as you kept quiet. You could at least escape.

A large thumping noises, and soon a large horde of noblemen was running down the same hallway all screaming their heads off. One of them went down the same hallway and took a deep breath. He was murmuring about how the Great Angel went mad. Based on the rambling mess, one of the noble ladies had said within earshot that in no certain terms that you had been assassinated, and that "an ugly peasant bitch isn't worthy of the Great Angel's love" Soon he fell silent as the masses ran by... but your heart started to drop... you heard the beating of wings. It was coming your way.

"Where is the nearest ship-port?" you whispered. The partygoers face twisted as if why would a mere serf ask that, before his face started to grin and opened his mouth. Before you could subdue him. "She's over here! " You immediately started to run full sprint. Your throat rubbing in raw... the beating your heart started to increase faster and faster as you heard the frantic wing beats.. only to collapse. No matter, you could at least crawl. Sanguinius appeared in front of you, white feathers falling as he stood, his hair askew and his wings still flapping despite him standing completely still... You started to weep. No... no... why? He picked you up and purred. "My little Bird where did you go?" "You weren't trying to escape? Were you?" You remained quiet. His mouth opened and now you noticed the heavy smell of blood. "WERE YOU?" he let out a shout, which causer your ears to ring. At your wince in pain, his face started to soften as he cradled over to you. "I'm sorry... I thought that you were dead... and I just cannot live without you." He pet your hair giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

That was a year ago.

Currently you were laying in bed, you needed the rest after all... you were preparing. Soon the door opened and your beloved entered the room. He was carrying a tray full of the finest of food, drink and wine. Sitting down he started to stroke your belly. "Have you come up with a name?" You shook your head as you slowly started to eat the food. As if you really didnt have anything to say, you had to keep the rest. You chewed the food and ate it in the fancy way, and even took the supplements! After all, they tended to even you out! You gave Sanguinius a kiss on the cheek and soon he left.

A/N: This (terrible) one shot is a result from the winner of the poll for the poem inspired for "Caged Bird" by Maya Angelou. Read it here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48989/caged-bird

I will try and write out Corvus' one and soon and write out Part 3 of the Party Planning bit. This is my first time attempting to write Yandere Sangy.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Gentle Grace

Past =-= Next

Author's note: More of Jophiel in Husbandry. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric and Ash'val.

Warnings: None that I can tell. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Summary: As Jophiel recovers from over using his Psykery, but not turning into a Conduit or a Demon, and gets fussed over by his brother-cousins, he gets to make some art while he waits to be let out of the hiding spot.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Artistic talent and the pursuit of more than just warfar was something that their Primarch, Sanguinius, had done with his sons while he was alive, and it's an activity that they continue to do so.

Long into the Indominitus Crusade and those Eras in-between, the act of creation, of art of some kind. To help hone such a skill and to help ones humors become more tempered.

It was something that he'd been taught after he'd been sent to his First Born Brothers in the Blood Angels Chapter. How to create art, of course, all art is individual to the particular Space Marine.

And there are a lot of different ways one could make art, but he'd happened upon the type of art making that had called to him, or at least helped soothe and calm him. A type of meditation that was of deep, calming focus.

That had repetitive movements that had small parts that created a greater whole. His brother-cousins had been able to scrounge up something so that he'd be able to create art, while stuck on bed rest at the protective, scowling gaze of Cedric and Ramiel.

With Claude and Catius guilt tripping him with wide, pleading eyes that tugged at his hearts strings and he'd capitulated with a huff. He did send a message to his Bonded that he was going to be staying with his brother-cousins in the Big City for a few days, possibly a week or two. He'd gotten a cheerful response back, he'd make sure to get them a little gift as an apology for being away from them for so long.

One of his brother-cousins has come back with a colored paper back that crinkles, it's full of the art supplies and he smiles gratefully at Catius, "Thank you for getting the art supplies, I appreciate it."

"You are welcome, Jophi," Catius says as he hands over the bag of art supplies.

Jophiel carefully pulled out the art supplies that had been gathered for him and he prepared to make some art. He was planning on making a gift for his brother-cousins that were staying at this base on a more permanent basis.

While he would come to this base to see them, he'd rather not deal with the potential Drama that was a Cursed One of the Ninth legion being on Ancient Terra.

He's glad that his fellow Primaris Brothers didn't seem to get afflicted with madness at the sight of his wings, but he's heard the stories, heard the histories of entire chapters of the Sons of the Ninth Primarch tearing each other apart over the madness that is the winged Astartes.

Granted, Ancient Terra seems different with how the Warp reacts to things, he'd rather not risk that when the stakes were so much more… difficult to navigate.

Also, being stuck on one planet, and not have any resources to get off of it had his wings itch and his hands twitch in a way that had Ramiel staring eagle-eyed at him for 'self-harm' habit of his.

He hummed one of the Hymns to the God Emperor's Glory as he prepares his cross-stitching surface and makes sure that all of the different kinds of yarn are carefully labeled by color and he tries to figure out what kind of design he wants to go for.

He starts threading the needle with the outline color and starts to stitch the outline of a flower, not one native to this world, and wouldn't be found until the Imperium sends its mighty colonization ships out to seed the habitual stars and planets with humanity.

He finish the outline of that flower and outlines a few more flowers and plants, and leaves. All of these plants are from his nearly perfect memory as he starts to cross stitch the leaves, stems and flower petals in the bright, colorful strands of thread.

He slowly goes over each flower in careful, neat stitching that he's careful to use just enough strength that it's tight, but won't snap the delicate threads. Once he's finished with the flowers and stems, leaves and vines of those plants.

He opens the hoop and shifts the work so that another part of the cloth canvas that is blank is now centered within the hoop as he does more stitching, firs the outline, then the internal components. His brother-cousins come and go to check on him, occasionally sneaking him to a different place, so as to not have him be found by older brother's and cousins of this base.

He's glad that his brother-cousins were able to finds such a large, blank cloth canvas for him to work on. By the time he's finished the whole piece, it's a large, cross-stitched piece that could become attached to a blanket that could easily be sized for an astartes to sleep under.

His brother cousins ooh- and ahh- at the designs. He'd gone for leaves, vines, flowers, and plants, all of them either dramatically beautiful in coloration, or had symbolism and properties that could be used in medicines to help heal those who are sick and injured.

That was not lost on Cedric and Ramiel from the wry smiles they give him. Catius and Claude come by with more art supplies as they help him stuff the supplies that could make cloth and cotton fluff into becoming a blanket.

He carefully stitches the art he's made into the blanket, ensuring that it could be washed and dried with a machine for easy use. He carefully folded up the blanket and used the paper bag to mostly hide the blanket that they'd all seem him back.

As he didn't need much sleep and wasn't supposed to move much, he'd been able to make the blanket within a week of being stuck inside this place.

He'd made several smaller pieces, one for Claude, Catius, and Ramiel as well. The largest piece was going to go to Cedric, to thank him for all the trouble that was patching up his dumb ass and for all of them as a thank you for not turning him in to their First Born Older cousins, and older brothers for some of them.

He is acutely aware of the risks that they are taking, what with hiding and protecting him as they are, and he's impressed by how success they have been with keeping him out of the hands of their older brothers and cousins without them knowing. Or at least, overtly knowing the truth.

[tagedeszorns]

It's the Imperial Palace-Halloween-Party and Alpharius/Omegon have just arrived!

Nobody knows what their costumes are referencing (the ancient terran texts they are based on are very obscure), but that's exactly how they like it: Being their own meme suits them very well.

Fulgrim is pissed, because he wanted to do a cool couple's costume with Ferrus, but being the piece of slag the Lord of the tenth is, he went with a boring "Error 404 costume not found"-shirt. So Fulgrim latched onto Perturabo, who, of course, dressed up as daVinci. So now there's daVinci and the phoenician-Mona Lisa.

Russ read an ancient terran text, too, but mixed it up. He is dressed up as "Riding Hood the Killer of the forest" accompanied by his Lumberjack- and Granny-wolf. Both wolves ate their costumes within minutes. Bjorn flatly refused to dress up as sidekick "kid" and therefore had to stay outside.

Since Lorgar already looks like the Emperor, he dressed up as their father and now is patronizing everybody just like the original. He forced Kor Phaeron to wear a Malcador-costume, too. No one would have thought it, but they are actually hilarious and very amusing in their roles. Amusing enough that the real Malcador can only with difficulty stop the real Emperor from angrily throwing papier-mâché pumpkins at his seventeenth son.

Vulkan loves his Godzilla-costume, because this pre-unification terran god (it had to be a god, since there were so many little statues!) is so damn cute! And kind of a dragon!

Then he spots Mortarion as Mothra and tackles him in a hug, since they both chose that ancient myth, oh glory day!

Magnus decided on a stage magician-costume, but every time he asks one of his brothers to "think of a number, I'll tell you which one you thought of!" or "pick a card and put it back into the pile!", they just go "Bro, you're a Psyker, that's nothing special!".

Curze is sulking beneath the buffet-table, because all the comments he gets on his very authentic "toatally normal imperial writing clerk"-costume are "Serial killer! They look just like everybody else, don't they!".

There he's joined by Stormseer Targutai, who brought a big plate of everything down under the table with him. Jaghatai wanted to dress up as one of the most famous race horses in terran history, Nijinsky, and so he needed two more legs. Since Targutai is way too good-natured to refuse, he humoured his Khan - at least for about ten minutes. Then he wandered off, spotting the buffet table. Now the back-half of a horse is happily munching on fingerfood, sharing it with a sweater-vest-clad Night Haunter.

About an hour into the party, the two are getting more company, as Corvus appears under the table as well. He shares Curze's fate, since everybody is mistaking his thoughtfully build (yet horribly sewn) Rosa Luxemburg-costume for Mary Poppins. How can it be nobody is recognizing one of the most courageous revolutionaries terra ever produced? It can't be because Raven Guard suck at anything artsy-crafty. No.

The only one of the brothers wo bothered himself with reading about classic terran Halloween-customs is, of course, Guilliman. But unfortunately for him, the texts are very old and very fragmented, so all he could take away was "scary things, but make it slutty". His zombie-make-up and fishnet-stockings are still getting him quite a few admiring (it has to be meant admiring!) comments, though.

It's a little bit frustrating for Dorn, that he really did his best with a "very dangerous inwittian predatory cat-like monster"-costume, but all of his brothers just want to cuddle the incredibly adorable furry-thing that's sweating like hell next to any open window he can find.

Sanguinius has plastered himself with about a hundred goggly eyes of all sizes, because he wanted to look like an angel. Surprisingly it isn't working. But Magnus is squinting at him, muttering "You look like someone I know, but I can't remember for the life of me ...."

Horus employed three of the mournival for a clever group-costume (he thinks it's clever). They are impersonating one of the most famous para-military strike-teams of ancient Terra. Now the Warmaster is sporting a big grin and a cigar, while Abaddon is visibly seething, because he wanted to be "the pretty one", but instead has to wear about a ton of gold chains, while Aximand is constantly telling him, having to wear a blonde wig is not that funny, either. Loken and Tarik played rock-paper-scissors for the remaining spot, Gavriel lost (on purpose) and now Torgaddon is very happy with a baseball hat and the license to behave crazy (within limits).

Angron is running around naked, bodypainted very green, yelling at everybody "I'M SHREK, GOD OF ORK!!!! WAAAAHHHG!!". The palace serving staff is now hiding from him. He counts this as a win. He makes no effort to explain why he is naked.

The Lion is pondering joining team "under the table", since Vulkan has spotted his very authentic Saint George-costume and continues to pounce at him, happily exclaiming "I'm a dragon, fight me!".

Now I have written an incredibly long text, although I only had the idea of drawing Alpharius and Omegon as Spy vs Spy. But that was fun! The Imperial Halloween Party is sure to be a great success.

Also, it seems Horus' costume isn't that obvious. Well ... 😊

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

(I didn’t finish my last ask because i got a text and didn’t get to copy paste it either aaa! let me just drop the rest of it here :3)

Horus began to take your “serf” title quite seriously despite the clear (and fast fading) concern from your sons. They would understand in due time, they would give you the same cold and heartless look that he did after chaos began to consume him. Bruises and small cuts littered your body from arguments you had recently had with Horus, things you would never imagine him doing. For now though, you were still his wife. Your small and fragile form, once strong and courageous, was still by his side at everything from peace negotiations to meetings with other primarchs, and today was no different.

It wasn’t your first or second encounter with the great angel of baal, you’d seen him many times before, Horus’ favorite brother. It seemed that the ship had grown darker and more grey over the past few months, but the angel was no less radiant than he always was. Sanguinius seemed to eye the injuries dealt to your body by his brother, but paid them no mind, some people are just into that he guessed. The look in your eyes however, the way you looked terrified next to your once beloved husband, the bags under your eyes and the way your once full skin had paled… something was wrong.

Sanguinius, however, was not the only being who recognized wrongdoing. Horus saw the way you eyed his brother, reaching out to touch him with your gaze. It infuriated him more than it had in the past. He noticed the look of terror in your eyes too and chuckled to himself thinking it was because you now knew the truth about Sanguinius, never giving a second thought to the fact that he was the cause of your terror.

The brothers argued, and you sat with your head bowed, knowing Horus would take his frustrations out on you later. There was no love left for you in this legion. You were by his side, of course, but Horus had left you long ago.

Days, Weeks, Months passed before the chaos had fully taken over and you lay still in a dungeon-like cage at the bottom of Horus’ ship. He had no need for you anymore, besides the occasional hate-fucking, which he opted to do in your cage instead of the bed you once shared. You would die here within your shackles while the sons you lovingly put in his care would die within the brutal grasp of war. The bars were cold and the floor was as well, you slept with your warm cheek pressed against the freezing metal floor, shackles bound your arms and legs to the walls, ensuring you couldn’t come too close to the bars like Horus’ little pet.

But then the reaping came.

You were not in the hull or commons to see the red thirst in person, but you could hear the soldiers you once mothered and nurtured be crushed, broken, and ground to a pulp for every ounce of blood they had left. You held your face in your hands and sobbed, the ship feeling colder than it usually had.

The screams, the crunching, and the sound of rain above you continued until it did no more. Horus was away on a mission, and his ship had fallen under siege to the blood angels.

You hadn’t expected their primarch to be with them as golden light made its way into the area you were kept, it shined its way through the bars of your cage, and into your eyes. You opened your mouth to plead for the mercy of the great angel, to grovel at his feet and worship him like you’d always secretly wished you could, but your voice had been taken from you just as everything else had.

You made yourself as small as possible when presented with his glory, your lips trembling with fear and your shackles keeping you locked in place, but he stood and stared.

“my lord.-“ you called out to him with what little voice you had, a hushed whisper.

“i can’t hear you, sorry.-“ He gently laughed, sweet as honey. he was teasing you, taunting you. You bowed your head in response, pulling up all of the vocal strength you possibly could.

“the great angel, oh brightest one, my lord sanguinius.-“

He smiled as if he had consumed the sweetest blood in the galaxy. He broke the bars of your enclosure with little to no effort, kneeling down in front of you and lifting your chin with a mere finger. His touch was gentle and sent chills down your spine.

“wife of Horus…” he spoke to you with such softness that you forgot you were shackled as badly as you wished to reach out and touch the primarch. “i think you would look better in gold, yes?”

You seemed to melt into his touch as he used his other hand to break your shackles, which allowed you to melt into him further. Without a second thought, you nearly lunged into his arms, your craving for warmth and love insatiable as if you had been deprived (you had). He wrapped his wings around you like a cocoon, protecting you from the outside world and allowing you to be somewhere peaceful. He gazed down at you with his bright red eyes, full of admiration.

“I don’t know how my dear brother did it.-“ he laughed, his voice the greatest comfort you’d heard in what felt like years. “Rest now, little angel.-“ he caressed your face as you finally obtained your fantasy from the first time you encountered the angel, only now you would have to mourn the loss of your husband and learn to introduce yourself as Sanguinius’ wife. “From now on, may the pain you feel never be unwanted, little angel.-“

(it’s bad ahaha! I haven’t written in 4 years but angel boy awakens something within me”

You haven’t written for 4 years, and I haven’t written for 3 years. Not far from each other :) And I like the role of Sanguinius in this whole story. I couldn't think through his story, but you did it just fine. It seems like he is a savior, but on the other hand it’s still scary. Especially since Angel gets a broken reader. Good soup, thank you ❤️

[captainblacklobster2]

We fight the long war, not through vain notions of duty and honour, but through a far purer purpose: hatred. At the height of our glory we were betrayed and cast out by our kin. Guilliman, Dorn, Sanguinius - these are names I curse. Horus, Perturabo, Angron - these are names I revere, names I would follow to the very end. It is this hatred that has sustained me through the long millennia. I tend it with bitterness. I nurture it with the deaths of my former brothers. For I know that when the end is upon us and Horus is returned, then the false emperor shall be cast down from his sepulchral Golden Throne, and we shall take our rightful place at the side of Horus, the true Emperor of Mankind.

[emperor-church]

О, святой Великий Ангел, который предстоит Трону Императора и освещён озарением Его Божественного света, просвещён знанием непостижимых тайн о превечной Его премудрости! Всеусердно молю тебя, наставь меня к покаянию от злых дел и ко утверждению в моей вере, укрепи и огради мою душу от прельстительных искушений и умоли Императора нашего об отпущении моих грехов. О, святой Великий Ангел! Не пренебреги мной грешным, который молится к тебе о помощи и заступлении твоем в этом веке и в будущем, но всегда будь моим помощником, да непрестанно славлю державу Отца Твоего.

O Holy Great Angel, who stands before the Throne of the Emperor and is illuminated by the illumination of His Divine light, enlightened by the knowledge of the incomprehensible mysteries of His eternal wisdom! I pray you most earnestly, guide me to repentance from evil deeds and to confirmation in my faith, strengthen and protect my soul from seductive temptations and beg our Emperor for the remission of my sins. O Holy Great Angel! Do not neglect me, a sinner, who prays to you for help and intercession in this age and in the future, but always be my helper, so that I may unceasingly glorify the power of your Father. (Art Denis Kornev)

[askmalal]

“Angels. Demons. Imps. Fairies. Whatever you choose to believe is none of my business. I am telling you that it will have no baring whatever on Imperial law. Justice may well be a matter of morality. Law, however, must be secular.”

- To a council of Governors

“They call us demigods - like it or not, they do. What happens when they learn that we can be killed?”

“Many demigods in Old Earth mythology can die.”

“Yes. But not like this. Never like this.”

- with Peturabo after Rangdan

“You behave as if you are the only one covered in blood of your loved ones, as if only you have suffered. Our condition is not a competition. And the men and women who follow us have suffered just as much even prior to this life. Sulk on your own time. We have worlds to save, sons and daughters to care for.”

- to Angron

“There is grace, there is beauty, there is gaudy. And then there is Fulgrim.”

- to the Second

“Mutants? You despise mutants? My dear sir, I have bad news for you.”

- to an unidentified High Lord before their first meeting

“Tell me, then. Whilst you spoke to them of our father’s glory and hidden divinity, did you perchance smell the ashes of their past glories on the wind? I wonder, don’t you, how it affected their reception to the homily?”

- to Lorgar

- Sanguinius, “On The Primarchs,” Volume IX

[fandom-geek]

there are a few choices i especially adore in the end and the death part 1, but i'm rereading it today and by fuck do i adore them

spoilers under the cut, if that wasn’t obvious

horus' pov in second person and malcador's in first person, while everyone else is in third person. especially since malcador speaks on behalf of the emperor so much throughout the story.

how horus and sanguinius talk about each other. holy fuck, break my heart more why don't you. not to even mention how horus compares his love of loken to the emperor’s love of sanguinius.

on that note, it’s fascinating how horus’ only pov chapter after they board the ship thinks only of the emperor. despite sanguinius being the only one not impeded on his way to horus and loken mysteriously being teleported to the vengeful spirit.

seriously, i’m lowkey convinced of that theory where sanguinius is going to drop dead of his wounds just as he gets to horus because a) the sheer cosmic irony of him successfully avoiding his death at horus’ hands, but still dying, and b) half convinced horus is letting him beeline his way so horus can persuade him to fall to chaos, so it would also be terrible for horus (emotionally and strategically). and then the emperor arrives just in time to see sanguinius dead at horus’ feet, as per canon, and assumes the worst. it’s a beautiful clusterfuck.

also, just horus’ pov in general? i know a lot of ppl are taking him at face value when he says he was faking the dementia, but honestly... i think he’s lying. he’s clearly deranged, even in his post-dementia pov, so why wouldn’t he convince himself of that truth just like he did mid-dementia? it is genuinely just pure insanity and i love that shit. especially the increasing horror of argonis & co. as horus is clearly not altogether.

and again. the bit where horus successfully names all of the daemons helping his forces while still not remembering the names of his own men? watch me fucking scream. someone please let abnett write 40k-era daemon primarchs in their own povs, i want to see how absolutely batshit they are in their full glory.

[sculptorofcrimson]

A work in progress of Horus/Emperor(or at least the starting point)

Horus Wins AU.

~~~~~~~~~

What if Horus had won? 

And what if he had spared the Emperor, for death would have been too merciful a fate?

~~~~~~~~~~

“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned.” - William Congreve

Horus should have never survived the duel with his father. 

Blades flash, an exchange of poetry with no words, and each strike echoes, swelling up like a wave and crashing down like vengeance incarnate. Each cut upon his armor was the rending of a promise, a treaty broken. 

Each blow is betrayal in a thousand forms, each gaping wound is a scar that shall never heal, never close. Each wound would never be stitched together by even the finest of physicians, for it was something so dreadfully broken it could never heal, never mend, like a bone that had been shattered and grew back together warped and impossibly flawed. 

The Angel is dead. The Devil is laughing. And God has fallen. 

They slash at each other, hacking with abandon, as father slayed son and son devoured father. Each cut burns like betrayal, living hatred that cuts deeper than their blades. They dance a song of blades that stain their armors a crimson red as they tread through where the Angel had fallen, and scattered all his feathers so carelessly over the halls of the Vengeful Spirit. A perfect plume of sanguine red tumbles, wavering naively amid the battletorn air, and a fraction of a second later it was gone as the Emperor’s sword slices it from stem to stern. The feather falls, and lands soaked in its master’s blood.

Even in death, Sanguinius was beautiful. 

As they weave their poetry and as their song of blades rises to a crescendo, a Terminator tries to intervene. He dares to interrupt their perfect dance of blasphemy, of damnation, of a father’s fall foretold. 

How foolish of him. 

He dies with no glory, no song of vengeance, and no vengeance unfolds. What remains of him is quickly carried away by the speed of their duel, his ashes spreading scattered like the Traitor’s sins.

The next fool was clad in gold and auramite as a Custodian tries to save his lord. 

Foolish boy.

Art thou dreaming, or art thou merely mad? What is a man to a god? Where is your master now? Where are your spears of so-called golden vengeance, why do you silence your warsong of gilded death? Where is your dear Constantin Valdor, your beloved Captain-General, and where he is now when his master lies broken before the Traitor’s claws? 

Where is your duty now, child? 

Not even ashes remain of the fool this time. Horus doesn’t even spare him a passing glance. 

Their blows thunder like rain, and their slashes rain like thunder. Their blades cross with hatred reborn, love crushed and stamped upon and rebirthed in the forges of Malice and Vengeance. Their wrath echoes throughout the throne room, and the Vengeful Spirit enacts her vengeance. 

The Emperor was nothing less than a god, not even the gifts of the Ruinous Powers could have ruined him, not even the vengeful adoration of a treacherous son could have slain the father. For if Horus was Lucifer and Adam, the son of all sins, then the Emperor would have been all that was divine, for not even all all nine choirs of archangels could have hoped to even match him in sanctitude, not even all of Terra’s worship could have even hoped to glimpse his divinity.

But Horus was his son. His beloved son. And he could not bring himself to kill his beloved son, to break the body he had molded, to tear the flesh and bone he had sculpted, to seize that perfect, naive and misguided soul and rend it to shreds. 

The Emperor, for all his glory, for all his cruelties, he could not bring himself to kill his son.

Speak what you will of the Traitor. Speak of what sins he has committed, speak of what blood that stains his claws, and what madness has fogged his eyes and twisted his mind. But speak not that he had never loved his father.

Because Horus had loved him. Loved him too much perhaps, love so hateful and so brilliant it was more akin to obsession and possession than adoration. 

Their song was nearly complete, the dancers exhausted and the music fading. Our curtain fall draws to a close, and this chapter's ink is nearly due. Horus slices open the Emperor’s breastplate with a single slash, lightning claws hovering over his jugular as time screeches to a halt. The Traitor glares at him with living hatred, his eyes fanatical and somehow wounded, and his father’s golden eyes stare back with irises as golden as the sun and as divine as its rays. The Traitor stalls, his claws flexing, in a single moment he could have slain the Emperor. He could have torn out his jugular, destroyed that beautiful man for once and for all, and ended his reign of terror. 

He did not take that moment. Horus spares the Emperor, and instead digs his claws into the tender flesh of the Emperor’s wrist, chuckling with delight as he feels the tendons snap and the beautiful muscles yield give underneath his claws. The Emperor’s sword falls, his divine form surrendering to the brutal onslaught of his own son. 

There was no one to save him, no fearless guardsman, no final race for the light, no merciful god to smile and grant his benevolence. There was only Horus’ laugh of dark delight as the Emperor’s blade clattered upon the Vengeful Spirit’s tiles and as the Traitor pounced upon his father’s prone form. 

At that moment, a lone Loyalist warrior entered the bridge as the Emperor fell to his knees. The Warmaster gloated in victory, holding up the broken form of the Loyalist’s beloved Emperor as the Traitor’s laughter echoed through the Vengeful Spirit's halls. 

Yet, the Loyalist did not yield. He roared defiance and held the line, the man stood before the god and dared him to die. 

Horus gazed at him once and his skin opened up like a flower.

His flesh dripped like wax from his bones. 

Yet, this time, there was no avengeance for his death. There was no grief for his loss, no pain for his failure, only the gloating howls of the Warmaster and the fall of the Emperor. There was only the tides of victory, and the sweet, sweet triumph that rang out through the hall of the Vengeful Spirit as he seized his father by his luscious black locks and forced his sire to meet his insane glare.

Victory tasted almost as sweet as his father's divine ichor upon his lips.

[shiyorin]

Sneak peak of a fic for my friend.

You sighed contentedly, nestling into Sanguinius's embrace. The Angel's feathers, so often a symbol of purity and duty, now bore the musk of pleasure and sin. You smiled, reflecting that for a moment, you had wiped that melancholy gaze clear and awakened something feral.

Sanguinius stroked a hand through your hair, clenching and unclenching the fingers of his other hand. As if still grasping at ecstasies now fled, leaving only the linger of corrupted bliss and questions too bleak to voice.

Their coming together had been a fierce, frantic thing. A desperation to transcend anguish, if only for moments, through the harsh rapture of flesh. And in the aftermath, a strange peace. A solace in knowing one's sorrow was not alone.

You sighed again, nuzzling into the warmth of The Great Angel's chest. His scent, once so noble, now carried a heady musk of sin. And yet, for a heartbeat, He seemed almost human. Flesh and blood, not an angel.

His feathers, so often a glory, now a rumpled mess. A fitting symbol, you mused, of how far you two had strayed from virtues you were meant to embody. And yet, in that straying, a kind of poignant truth.

[2xplusungood]

"oh you're a warhammer 40k fan? Name every HAMMER" "okay"

Thunderhammers: Forgebreaker Thunderhead Dawnbringer Urdrakule Doomtremor Foehammer Malleus Noctum Maeker Hammer of Baal Veiksell Fist of Dorn Doom of Traitors Dorn's Retribution Hammer of Cadia Lyssanders Judgement Sunderhammer Undeniable Hammer of Truth Astartes Thunderhammer Lathe Pattern Thunder Hammer Stormbearer Heavy Thunder Hammer Doom of Apostasy Doom of Traitors Dread Maul of Skarbrand Undeniable Hammer of Truth Doombringer Herald's Ram Invincible Leviathan-Bane Mjalnar Rockfist Hammer Hammer of Macragge Wrath of the Abyss Darkstar Falling Glory Aeterna

Thunderhammer with Storm Shields: Armaments of Victory Arms of Tanthius Holy Arms of the Champion Honored Fury of the Veteran Malleus Terminatus Might of the Unforgiving Pride of the First Company Unnamed Thunder Hammer and Storm Shield Arms of the Titan The Shield and Thunder of Lyonis

Daemonhammer: God-Splitter Nemesis Daemonhammer Malleus Argyrum Nemesis Daemon Greathammer Twelve Daemonhammers of the Crusade

Power Hammer: Corvus Hammer Genestealer Cult Power Hammer

Ork 'Uge Hammers: GoffHammer

Hammer(Necromunda) Adeptus Mechanicus Siege Hammer Seismic Hammer Graviton Hammer Mass Hammer Concussion Hammer Exactor Kombat 'ammer Meteor Hammer

Things that are technically hammers by name or title: Sanguinius The Grey Knights Hellhammer Hammercloak Hammerfall launcher Hammerstrike launcher Skyhammer Dreadhammer Storm Speeder Hammerstrike Hammerfall Bunker Hammer of Nocturne Wrath Hammer Class Escort Talisman of Seven Hammers Allslayer Hammer Banehammer Stormhammer Cloud-Hammer Hammerhead Gunship