#Glory to the Sanguinius!

[emperor-church]

Вычеркни из книги твоей жизни то, что заносил в неё до сей поры — беспокойство, неуверенность, ложь. А на место вычеркнутого впиши лишь одно слово — «отвага» и Великий Ангел поддержит тебя.

Erase from the book of your life what you have been putting in it up to now — anxiety, uncertainty, lies. And in place of the crossed out, write only one word — "courage" and the Great Angel will support you. (art Teresa Ramos (Teradiam))

[ezri-is-real]

Stand Proud Sons of Sanguinius! For those we cherish, we die in glory!

[chaoskull]

Alexandre Cabanel - The Evening Angel

Death to Clemency

Sanguinius x Gn!Reader

Summary: Sanguinius imprudently believes his desires can be surpressed, contemplating his sorrowful failure of the attempt, you arrive, as it was destined.

Dropping this quick thing here for you guys!

Sanguinius wanted to be seen as one that the people could pour their soul and heart out to, he devoted himself to be a welcoming listener to the voice of the population.

Blood dried on the primarchs face, he stayed perched on the top of a column, as a statue would, unmoving, the view was irrelevant to him as much as the wind, he reflected on the action that had brought him to this isolated place.

He had succumbed to the urge to drink blood by a frivolous mistake. Covered by it he felt pathetic, there was glory in his doing, no battle had been won.

It wasn't of a human, it was of an animal he'd taken the life out of, although it truly almost felt the same. He wanted to trick himself, but he knew there was no illusion that could alleviate his desire, it did not help to calm himself.

No one knew of it, only his sons could, even so, he swore to not tell them of this incident. He was needed to be left alone, for how long he was unsure, but what was definitive is that no one was there to console his tormented mind.

He had left the crowded meeting table to seek loneliness after the strong smell had captured him, a serf had fallen holding the weapon of an astartes, their blood pressured his mind into shambles.

A lamb was near the fortress walls, the herd was not far, he did not know if it would ease his compulsion, yet he advanced.

He wondered if one would notice its disappearance as he tore into its flesh in an almost unconscious act. He felt as a beast, the man once inside him was possessed by a ravenous primitive predator.

It did nothing to mitigate his urge, the breeze now solidifies his own misjudgement in crimson, as he had invisioned.

He knew of your arrival, it was seen by him in the form of a premonition and kept in his memory. At your steps, sounding on the marble floors, he didn't move, he panicked, your reaction was severely important to him.

He covered himself with his wings, the once symbol of greatness becoming an easy way to hide his shameful predicament.

You have seen him by now, there is no way you couldn't, he was twice your size, his immense wings were impossible to be ignored. The steps were not heard anymore, you had to be watching him contorting himself.

“My Lord, my apologizes if I've interrupted you” He hears the light rustle of your clothes as you bowed to take a leave. Ashamed to fully view your figure, he peeked through the feathers to take a small sight of you.

"Wait" He pleaded, as he sees you turn away, making you return to where you were standing just a second ago.

He was doomed, he's seen you in his dreams, your face as delightful as it was then, but now you were present in his reality, he wished to know your thoughts of what he's become now, the bloodthirsty creature he was, his once white robes were stained red in his chest just as his jaw.

“What brings you here?” He asks, in a calming tone, masking his true desperation. He notices his hands were also painted the same maroon, curling further into himself.

Your head was curved downwards, in a sign of respect, maybe hesitancy. He wanted to see you, but to ask I'd be a pious action, as he hides himself to not be seen as well.

“I was… looking for a quiet place, my Lord” You answer, in embarrassment, he thinks, that was what it seemed, at least to him.

He ponders what could have made you, from this nervously obedient servant, to the one he sees caressing his hair and feathers. As you lay on his bed, and he has you in his arms as nightfall takes the sunlight into the moon's reflection of it.

He tentatively unwraps himself from wings, the curtain of white feathers revealing the disaster that had happened moments before your arrival.

The expression in your face as saw him was enough to tell your perception of him, your first encounter with the primarch, and Sanguinius felt weak and disheveled.

You believed him to be a murderer, a unruly creature that had taken the life of a innocent, he knew of the destruction some of his brothers were capable of doing, he did not want to be them, he wanted you to love him as he did you.

You were terrified, petrified, you couldn't escape, he quickly envelopes you in his wings, his hands were firmly planted on your back, his sharp nails made cuts as he was trying to stop you from leaving, begging for forgiveness.

“What I've done is not what you believe have happened, please forgive me, I didn't not wish to be seen as well” He cries, his blood soaked hands inking your face the same color as his.

The clear tears that run from eyes to his merge forming crismon drops that fall to his neck, trying to explain himself, Sanguinius felt clueless wishing for your clemency.

“I have done a terrible mistake, you shouldn't have to see me as this” He has visions of your future, one you were to be the one to consoled, and not out of fear of him, you did not judge him by his erratic behavior that seemed one of an animal.

Now you started to understand his predicament, he felt lone and scared just as you, in the short minute you had gained clarity of his emotional turmoil, you spoke up, ignoring the formal distance between the two.

“There is nothing to fear, Sanguinius” You say, in an attempt to relieve his sorrowful expression, perhaps to save your life or his, you did not know.

He is unsure as to why you'd say that, as if you could read his every thought. Your hands wipe part of the blood as you rid him of his tears.

How can one bring such compassion to the man he was, for a brief moment the man was stripped of honor, all left was a sentiment of ludicity, it had been years since one address him in such warm light.

Perhaps he was right of the visions of his future, you were to be by his side, he was to tame his urge for the sweetily sickening taste of blood and keep you to himself.

He did not care for the mess he was to make any longer, he leaned into your face to capture your lips in a kiss, the tenderness of his lips in your was of outmost devotion.

He is wished he had met properly, he will apologize for this encounter, he was to show you of the man he truly was.

Although, the smell of your sweet blood dripping from your back started to take ahold of him, as close as you two were.

Didn't want to ruin it by rushing one clear ending, so it's open for your interpretations!

[solspina]

i’m up thinking about being tortured for some reason but it’s hot and it’s sanguinius! have an unedited blurb as an apology for my absence

***

there’s something about being tortured by towering asatartes that makes your heretical beliefs impossible to conform to.

with every move they make, they bring you closer to death. the sweet release of your life ending is dangled in front of your face like bleeding meat to a starving dog, but one that is muzzled and frail. you were beaten past being a viable threat long ago, yet no words you could say nor action you could commit seemed to satisfy their idea of submission.

even the idea of why you were kept alive was a mystery to you.

emperor, someone you never thought you would pray to, everything hurts.

your throat stung from screaming, the skin on your neck ached with numerous bite marks from numerous men clad in red armor. some form of daemon, they had to be. their sharpened and elongated canines were nothing human, nor was their ability to pin you down with impossible brute force and drink blood from the gaping wounds they inflicted on your body.

you’d long lost count of how many times your head hit the ground, or how many times you had been painfully thrown against ceremite or concrete. being left to bleed out or falling into days long unconsciousness was nothing new to you.

you feared the men in red armor. you hated them.

but the angel was kind.

torture meant that you got to see him, if you came close enough to death. he was not cruel or torturous like the things he called his sons. his whispers to you were soft and gentle, as was his golden hand that smoothed down your hair whilst you laid sobbing against him within your cage.

“it will be over soon… as soon as they have cleansed you of your doubts and brought you into the light” he would speak.

but you had seen the light. you had been tortured back into the dark each time you came close enough to beholding the emperor’s glory.

was it the fact you screamed your curses each time the red armored men walked to drag you from your cage in shackles?

or was it the fact that you believed beholding this angel was enough?

time and time again you would endure. not for the emperor, but for him. your mind clear of heresy and focused only on the fact that no matter how much suffering you were brought, the angel would bring you peace.

for something about being wrapped within ice white wings is cleansing on it’s own. something about being unapologetically cared for. something about the fact that the red armored men too seemed to look at you with care when the golden angel held you in his arms.

you loved him. you revered him. even when he ripped you away from his warmth and lovingly chained you up again in your cage. even when he promised you redemption that seemed to never come.

by your beloved emperor, you would wait for that day.

[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!’

[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.

[onestrangechild]

What your fav Legion says about you, from some nerd on an app

Ultramarines:

I like to think of you guys like Glock owners. Yes, on paper, you guys are the least creative but that means you guys are the most reliable. Guilliman was probably the best primarch to come back to the setting because he was the most stable, and it shows in his marines, who don’t have trauma for the sake of plot. You admire the other legions, but it’s the no nonsense approach they bring to battle that you respect the most.

For honor and glory.

Blood Angels:

You think Vampires are dope as Fuck, and you’re right. Your favorite TV show is probably season 1 of Netflix’s Castlevania (same) or HELLSING, and play the Vampire Counts in the Total War Warhammer games. You go into a seething rage at the merest mention of the WarMaster, and probably wanna rip Erebus’s hearts out and lay them before sanguinius’s feet. You’re probably a bit annoyed with people hiding their gear from you because they think you’re a Blood Raven, but you’ll forgive them in time.

Dark angels:

You think Medieval Knights are dope as Fuck, and you’re right. You dig the chivalry and honor they embody at all times, think dark green and gold looks drippy (it does), and think the Lion is an absolute badass (he is). You also probably grieved for what the honored 1st could’ve been before GW wrote them to all be paranoid douchebags, and can’t wait for the returned Lion to make some changes around his legion. Also, you’re extremely tone deaf, please learn to read the room yall

Salamanders:

OUT OF THE FIRE, AND UNTO THE ANVIL!

Whilst I’m more of a Blood Angel or Iron Hand myself, I have Immense respect for the sons of Vulkan. You think blacksmithing is cool as fuck and probably watch clips of Forged in Fire, or any of the various Blacksmith YouTubers there are. You also think Fire is cool, and think that Astartes should be nicer to Guardsmen in lore.

Imperial Fists:

As an Iron Warrior simp, suck my toes you Imperial Favorite. Now that that’s out of the way, the Imperial Fists is an entire legion of Engineers including you (probably). You think Emotions only make Simple things Complex and thus think as logically as life will let you, fair enough. Youre as tired of the “Imperial Fists are as cold as their home world” about as much as you are of Perturabo’s complaining, miss your genefather, and can feel the happy chemicals SURGING in your brain looking upon a reinforced defense manned by soldiers who’s only concern is holding the line.

Iron Hand:

As an Iron Hand myself, I know the “daddy issues” joke is fruit hanging lower than Ferrus Manus’s head rolling around on the floor, so I won’t. You’re a lot like an Imperial Fist, critically logical and as stalwart as Iron, but unlike imperial fists you’re allowed to have a personality! Unfortunately that Personality is tempered by a healthy dose of Trauma! Your hatred for the Emperor’s Children is just as violent as the Blood Angels and the Sons of Horus, and you pray Fulgrim gets a model so you can personally shoot him in the mouth.

White Scars:

You’re a vehicle guy, and you like going Fast. You also have a great appreciation for cultures like Feudal Japan, Ancient China, Mongolia, etc. idk what else to put here since I’ve never really… looked into their lore… (-(

Raven Guard:

You’re a quiet person, maybe you’re emo/punk, maybe you like dressing up gothic, but you’re definitely the quiet type. Whether that’s social anxiety or just a person of few words doesn’t matter too much, you vibe with the sad raven boys cuz they’re badasses. Unfortunately I cannot take those beaked helmets seriously.

Space Wolves:

I heard an explanation that I agree with once. You guys have such a rich history, a badass primarch that’s probably gonna return (eventually), and a very well developed Viking aesthetic that Is appreciated by those willing to dig into it… but to everyone on the outside you’re just a furry. And it’s kinda tragic…

Anyways, this is all just my opinion which means obviously this is Fact and should be Definitely taken as such

[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.

[emperor-church]

О, святой Великий Ангел, моли за нас Императора, даруй мудрость и рассуждение, чтобы отличать добро от зла, чтобы молитвой Императору сокрушать все помыслы диавольские. По Твоему ходатайству да стяжаем ум чистый, ясный, молитвенный, сердце доброе и волю, к Императору обращенную. Oh, holy Great Angel, pray to the Emperor for us, grant wisdom and reasoning to distinguish good from evil, so that by prayer to the Emperor you can crush all the thoughts of the devil. At Your intercession, may we acquire a pure, clear, prayerful mind, a kind heart and a will turned to the Emperor. (Художника найти не удалось)

[garvielloken1900]

My Brothers, hear me.

O, Martyred Angel,

Whose wings envelop my mortal soul,

Heed my cry and light my way,

Heed my cry and bloody my blade,

Heed my cry and steel my resolve,

For I shall smite thine enemies and hold sacred mine brothers,

I shall not falter in the face of the abyss,

And I shall hold fast the salvation of humanity,

All in the endless glory of your name,

O, Martyred Angel

For Sanguinius

[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 ❤️

[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.

[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.

[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

[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.