#Space marines

[wh40kartwork]

Falkus Kibre

by Gij Arentz

[moociaoafterdark]

Chat, is Marneus Calgar a DILF or a GILF? Idk what to label him myself, I need your wisdom.

Edit: it has been decided that the third secret thing should be "MILF", please vote accordingly

[ederiuss]

Drew my Lamenter Captain, called Therios

[madmeks]

It's me. Hi. I'm the biggest hypocrite in the galaxy, it's me.

[thetygre]

Dads when you start bringing home Space Marines: Alright fine. But no Ultramarines; Ultramarines are boring.

Dads with those very same Ultramarines:

[thememestrider]

Had an idea, thought it was cute, so I wrote something for it.

Introductions - Dante x F! Reader

Sypnosis: Needing to touch base with the various high lords and regents of his new Imperium, Robute Guilliman hosts an enormous social function at his palace on Ultramar. Naturally, Commander Dante is invited. And, naturally, he's taking his beloved as his plus one.

C/W: No warnings, possible lore inaccuracies/ooc (especially for Guilliman since idk anything about his lore lol), reader is described as female in this one, pre-established relationship, kinda fluffy with a smidge of angst, lil spicy insinuation at the end but nothing nsfw, unedited.

Back in the days before the Heresy, Guilliman had hated events like this.

The pomp, the lavishness, and the expenditure; all so his father could have the opportunity speak with the high lords and imperial regents face-to-face. It's so gawdy, so wasteful. And, frankly, it's so unbearably pretentious.

But, just like those early days, Guilliman understands the necessity. Without them, he'd never see any of the imperial upperclass. Half of them are too preoccupied to try and arrange private audiences with, while the other half will simply refuse. Events like this are a chance to bring all these people together in one place, allowing Guilliman to brief, reprimand and pass orders to everyone he must while keeping them from being distracted or finding some way to avoid him. These conversations are exhausting, though. And, more often than not, frustrating to all hell. Several times throughout the night, Guilliman has to disengage from mingling, to preserve his sanity as much as his strength.

Now is one such time.

Swirling a cup on wine in one hand, the Primarch surveys the floor of his place's vast dining hall, which for tonight has been converted into something akin to a ballroom. His serfs had done well in setting everything up; everything from the music to the drapes to the crystal chandeliers scream luxury from the tops of their lungs. Guilliman takes a swig from his wine. While the taste is pleasant, he find himself resenting the fact that he is immune to the effects of alcohol.

Everyone here, I despise, one way or another.

His gaze catches on the right side of the room. A flash of red; deep, rich and belonging to an ornate set of robes; draped over a man taller than anyone else in the room aside from the Primarch himself. Black hair streaked with silver cascades over his shoulders in loose waves. He's standing against a wall, hands clasped across his lap, sharp amber eyes following something amidst the crowd that Guilliman cannot pick out. The Primarch recognises the man immediately. As he does, a weight suddenly lifts from his chest.

Well, not everyone.

Guilliman starts towards the man in red. When he notices the Primarch approaching, the man's already rigid posture stiffens even more. Setting his fist across his heart, he begins to bow. But before he can complete the gesture, Guilliman intervenes. "How many times must I tell you, Dante? I'll not accept such signs of humility from a man such as you."

He speaks with a smile, but evidently, Dante's innate reverence of the Primarch will not allow him to partake in the jest.

"Forgive me, my lord," the Blood Angel says. "You surprised me, is all."

"There's nothing to forgive." Guilliman sets a hand on Dante's shoulder. "It's good to see you, nephew. I am glad you could attend."

"I..." Dante trails off, and Guilliman fears his attempt at personability have unsettled the space marine. But, eventually, Dante allows himself a brief half-smile. "Thank you, Guilliman. It is good to see you, too."

Releasing his shoulder, Guilliman pauses to look Dante up and down. In spite of his advanced age, Dante remains a spitting image of his gene-father, Sanguinius. Paired with his noble heart and soft-spoken demeanour, and the commander might as well be Guilliman's long-dead brother reborn. The thought tugs at the Primarch's heart. He covers it with a smile. "You look well. Very well. You have recovered from your wounds sustained on Baal, I hope?"

"Somewhat," Dante admits. "Though I cannot say the same for Baal itself."

Guilliman nods sombrely. "The Tyranids are a merciless enemy. Even in defeat, they leave little upon which to rebuild." He offers the commander another smile. "You will rebuild, though. It will just take time."

Dante's expression is thoughtful. "Not too much, I hope; time is not something we have in abundance in the Imperium Secundus. "

Rueful silence follows the commander's words. Slowly, Guilliman can feel it turning melancholic. He moves to break it before that happens. "I see you lack a glass; can I get you a drink?"

Suddenly, Dante perks up. "Oh, no, my lord. You needn't worry. My-"

"My wife is already on it, he meant to say."

Guilliman turns around sharply. He sees you, wrapped in a slinky dress the same crimson shade as Dante's robes, smiling playfully up at the Primarch. You have a glass in each hand. Both filled with wine, though one is significantly larger than the other. This you hand off to Dante, before gliding to the space marine's side and slipping your now-free hand around his arm. For a moment, both men are at a loss for words: Dante, due to your unbelievably casual behaviour towards the Lord Primarch, and Guilliman due to your refering to yourself as...

"Wife?" Guilliman stares at Dante in surprise. "I didn't know you had a wife. "

Dante's expression suddenly hardens. "You don't disapprove, do you?"

"It'd be a bit late if he did," you add slyly.

Guilliman blinks. "I- No, no! Of course not. I'm just... I'm just surprised, is all."

You throw your husband a smirk. "Surprised?" you mutter. "That's a bit rude." Dante's only reply is an unamused glare.

Guilliman shakes his head. "That's not- I only meant that I didn't realise space marines... had partners. Let alone... got married."

"They don't, typically," you reply. "But Luis and I-" quickly rising to your toes, you plant a quick kiss on Dante's cheek. "We're a unique case, you could say. "

Guilliman hardly hears what you're saying; the mere sight of you has his thoughts paralysed. Your crown barely reaches the Blood Angel's shoulder, and yet hanging off his arm, you look completely at home.

Dante is the same, too. Guilliman sees the way his face lights up when you kiss him. Had seen the hostility in his eyes when the Primarch had questioned him, like a primal protectiveness. Even now, it's not yet faded. As much as Dante reveres Guilliman, the Primarch realises that if given the choice between him and you, Dante will choose you without hesitation. Guilliman feels... He isn't sure how this makes him feel. The logicitian in him cringes at the thought of his fellow Lord-regent- his second-in-command, effectively- having his loyalty split between the Imperium and something (or, in this case, someone) else. But another part of him, the human in him, sees the way you look at each. The way you stroke Dante's arm as you speak. The way Dante unconsciously leans into you, as if drawing comfort from your touch. Guilliman sees all of this, and everything that lays unspoken beneath, and he feels... He feels happy. Hopeful. And maybe, though he'd never admit it aloud, he even feels a little jealous.

Before he can ponder that point any further, you address the Primarch again. "Well, Lord Guilliman, it was an honour to finally meet you. But I'm afraid I must steal my husband back for a moment."

Blinking his reverie away, Guilliman nods. "Of course, my lady." He stifles a wince at how quiet his voice has become. "It was... It was a pleasure meeting you, as well."

You flash a brilliant smile. Dante simply nods. Rather than wait for you both walk away, however, Guilliman takes his leave first. Turning on his heel and retreating back to his earlier vantage point. For the rest of the night, however, his thoughts remain on the pair of you. Swirling amongst pleasure, melancholy and other things he does not yet know how to label.

********************************************

The moment that Guilliman is out of earshot, Dante sighs in relief. "By the Throne," he mutters. "That went better than expected."

You raise an eyebrow. "What went better than expected?"

Finishing his wine, Dante sets the empty glass down on a table as you walk past. Then, you feel him squeeze your hand; the one you have threaded through his arm.

"You and Lord Guilliman," he says softly.

You take a moment to study your husband's face. You find it wrought with undeclared anxiety. Slowing to a halt, you turn to face Dante, keeping a hold on his arm. "Why?" you ask gently. "Did you think he'd disapprove?"

His grip on your hand tightens. "I thought he would take you from me."

You find the suggestion humorous- as if you'd let anything get between the two of you- but upon seeing the stress still lingering on Dante's face, you do not say so. Instead, you ask, "Why would he do that?"

Dante looks at you ruefully. In spite of his feelings, it seems your naivety has amused him somewhat. "Space marines are weapons, sweetheart," he answers. "The only things our hearts are supposed to feel are duty and honour. Not..."

Gently, you finish his thought for him. "Not what we have."

Dante smiles sadly. "Exactly."

"Well... Guilliman said outright that he doesn't disapprove. So, that must bide well, right?"

"That could change," Dante argues.

"If it does, we will fight it."

"And if we cannot?"

Sighing, you set your glass aside. Then, you reach up to cradle his cheek. Immediately, he leans into your palm.

"Then nothing," you say softly. "It will change nothing. No matter what does or doesn't happen, Luis, I'm not going anywhere. Remember what I said? You'll never have to manage without me again."

Draping your arms around his neck, you pull him into a hug. You feel him grab you around the waist, forearms pressed against your lower back and pulling you flush against his front.

"I love you," he whispers into your ear.

You nuzzle into his hair, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He smells delicious; of musk and sweet spice.

"I love you, too, " you reply.

For several, tender moments, you remain locked in each other's arms. Many passers-by eye you curiously. Some even begin to gossip. But neither of you pay them any heed. In fact, neither of you even notice them. Eventually, you're the first to draw away, but it's only enough enough to meet Dante's eye. Your arms remain firmly wrapped around his neck. "I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to get out of here."

Absently, Dante begins stroking your back. "Is that why you pulled me away from Guilliman?"

You nod. "I've taken all the high lords and ecclesiarchy I can for one night." With a sigh, you rest your head on Dante's chest. "Between that and meeting a Primarch, I need some peace and quiet."

"I understand," Dante says. "And I agree. Although..."

"What?"

"Maybe you could hold off from the "peace and quiet" for little longer?"

You look up at him. "Why?"

Dante flashes a smirk. Through it, you make out the tips of his angel fangs. "My love," he says sweetly. "You've made me watch you glide around in that dress all evening..." He holds you tighter. Suddenly, you're accutely aware of how low down your back his hands rest.

You give him a sultry smile. "Well, in that case... I suppose I can." With that, you pull away, taking your husband by both hands and pulling him towards the ball room's exit.

Taglist: @solspina :)

[wolf-feathers12]

One thing I don't get with blood angels and the red thirst is how did everyone just forget that it existed?

They were called the The Revenant Legion before they met sanguinius and I'm pretty sure it's implied that the other chapters all keep their distance because of how bloodthirsty and violent they were.

And like you wouldn't forget the time you watched one of them drain a serf dry of blood and rip out the throat of another.

Like your gonna remember that.

So I like to imagine a scene where sanguinius decides to come clean to all of his brothers and they all already know XD

Blood angels all in the corner being like bye dad we love you ╥﹏╥

Sanguinius: thank you for meeting me brothers and father. I can hide the truth no longer. I have a truly evil secret that I have been hiding all this time. A shameful dark secret that may very well make you think me and my legion monsters I-

Big E: Is this about the vampire corpse eating thing?

Sanguinius: .....

Roboute: Do u mean that weird trance where they go into a rage and bite everyone? Yeah if you could try and get that under control brother I'd appreciate it. :/

Dorn: i sanctioned them after the Second Siege of Yarant. They ate prisoners in front of the enemy.

Fulgrim: Yes I remember. They would walk around with gore and blood all through their hair and armor. Absolutely ghastly! They smelt worse then Cruze and the death guard put together! Really brother I don't know HOW you were able to turn them around.

Sanguinius: ......

Big E: Well anyway son hopefully you get that sorted out because I'm pretty sure Malcador would force me to sleep on the couch if I got rid of another legion HAHAHA XD

Sanguinius: ........

[wh40kartwork]

Broken Crusade Cover Art

by Kevin Chin

[omgkhazadum]

chonk brutalis dreadnought

[ladymirdan]

I have an eidetic memory for Ultramarines doing gay shit in canon.

It is absolutely uncanny and fucked up how I can remember reading a passage in a book I read years ago and not only remember what book, but also where the passage was and who wrote it.

I can't remember my own phone number (that ive had since 2003) or why I entered a room 99% of the time. Why is this my superpower?!

[cultofthewyrm]

Dark Eldars vs White Scars by Igor Sid

[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

[sepulchuresketchbook]

(I’ll most likely reuse/trace over this for something else. Saves a lot of time.)

(This takes place during the battle against hive fleet kraken)

“Through the fire and the storm I will endure, to repent for the heresy of Badab and the blood of my brothers…” His voice felt strained, his mouth felt dry as he coughed up blood.

He had been thrown quite hard into machinery by the Neurothrope as they battled the horde. The impact had shorted out some of the systems in his armor. It was a miracle he could even rise.

Taharaen was hauled up from the ground, from where a pool of blood had formed under him.

“I will not let the jaws of death have you today. Even if the hound of misfortune chase at our heels.” His Iron Lord companion spoke.

He laughed bitterly. “I thought you had no wish to be afflicted by my..our “Bad Luck?”

“I do not, but I have confidence in your abilities to lead us through the storm.”

Taharaen steadied himself. “Thank you. I will ensure your trust is not misplaced.”

[penginlord]

So apparently, back in the day, RTGame was a bit of a Warhammer nerd, with an ultramarine and imperial guard army.

This is actually a really cool fun fact and makes me enjoy watching him play Space Marine 2, and desire more Warhammer stuff from him (although it's unlikely to happen)

[norseminuteman]

This kind of slaps.