#please save me sanguinius

[solspina]

We Should Stick Together (2)

sanguinius ⋆˙⟡

hello! remember this that i wrote like 3 months ago? flooding my inbox worked, and i gift you all the part 2 that you harassed me for (affectionate). i hope you enjoy, and please feel free to drop more writing ideas in my inbox if you have them!! i have work in 6 hours so i am very sorry for spelling or grammar mistakes :)

as the race to the imperial palace comes to an abrupt end, sanguinius confronts his greatest fear, and finally discovers whether this is a battle he wins or loses to his perfect phoenician brother.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: n/a

(part 1)

Sanguinius turned back, ensuring that Fulgrim had become a mere speck in the distance, even to the sharp and trained eyes of the avian mutant.

Five minutes… He had five minutes at most before the Phoenician stormed into the imperial palace and attempted to track down the woman he knew was his brother’s desired bride. Although much slower than the angel, Fulgrim was still a primarch, and therefore incomprehensibly faster on foot than the average human. The duo had only ventured about three miles away from the palace to begin with, and though Sanguinius could cover that distance in half the time his brother could, he still worried for the little time he had.

The angel landed rather clumsily, his feet failing to obtain a proper stance on the floor before his wings had folded in upon his back. He stumbled, unable to catch himself before his clothes and feathers were covered in the dusts of holy Terra just as his hands had been.

In flight, his appearance had become quite disheveled, and was now accompanied by the filth of the ground. His hair had become frizzy from the abuse upon it by the wind, and his loose feathers stood on his wings in a way that made them rather itchy. He would deal with that later. No time to lose right now.

His stagger to his feet was near immediate. One moment of hesitation meant one moment Fulgrim would inch closer to the imperial place.

Sanguinius was most concerned with finding her before the phonecian ever even got the opportunity, but the thought that he had not prepared a speech lingered in the back of his head like a quickly spreading disease. The great angel was and always had been an artist of impeccable detail, a poet of unimaginably beautiful words, a man who spoke to inspire the masses. And yet despite all of this, so was his brother, whom no doubt had much more time to prepare for the exact upcoming moment.

Pale white wings trembled ever so slightly at the thought, yet they caused the angel to more hastily sprint through every room that a baseline could possibly hide in. What if, even if he had been here first, Fulgrim’s speech was more captivating and practiced? What if she cared more about the display and grandeur than the intentions of her suitor? Did she know that Fulgrim had been married before? That he would have infinitely more experience when it was time to bed he-

Not the time to think about that.

Sanguinius turned another corner as he searched for the person he so desired, but again he found nothing. Thus began his endless chase of navigating this imperial labyrinth. He turned another, and another, and another, and another, until he finally found himself gazing into one of the imperial palace's many greenhouses.

There he saw his dearest beloved sitting elegantly by a pond filled with fish of many species. Greenery, a lovely assortment of flowers and, golden sunset light adorned her body in an impossibly perfect halo. The water that poured from the elaborate fountains complimented the melody in her voice like a song made only by nature's most beautiful things, meant to cleanse his very soul.

The scene would have been a dream if not made a nightmare by the pompous and flamboyant voice of Fulgrim, drowning out what should have been Sanguinius' idealized solace.

The Phoenician let out a pretentious laugh at something the baseline said, and the angel physically cringed at the way she placed her hands over her stomach to ease her own mirth. The sight should have been something glorious, enchanting to the eyes of the ninth. It had been so many times before, yet he only felt his blood begin to boil.

only I should make you laugh that way.

He did not know what emotion flooded his heart the most. Envy? Or perhaps sorrow? rage? resentment for his silver haired brother?

What he did know, however, was that he had lost.

Somewhere amongst an incredibly confusing concoction of emotions, the angel was beyond certain that a searing heartache was included in the most prevalent of them.

He may have been able to disguise his current visage as nervousness, were anyone of importance to ask why his mood had become morose. Social interaction with a passing custodian or serf had become the least of his worries. He did not care much, at this point, if someone saw him sulking in the doorway to the garden, grieving a baseline as if he had - for lack of a better comparison - lost his lover.

Not that a soul would come through to the conservatory anyway.

"Brother!" The palatine phoenix called. His voice was loud, deafening almost. High and mighty as ever, and calling upon all eyes that could see to face the angel in his horrent state of embarrassment. "Come! We have awaited your presence."

The smile of the third was hideously genuine. The stretch of his lips when his eyes met those of the human was so sweet it was sickening to Sanguinius - so much so that it sent a chill up his spine that caused his feathers to fluff and clatter against each other when he reacted to the sensation.

"We were just discussing you." The Phoenician beamed as the angel mournfully walked forward.

"Ah." Sanguinius replied. His cheerful personality had become lost somewhere deep in his chest, and what little of his voice he displayed had become somber and quiet. Quite truthfully, he was not in the mood for any type of social affair. He especially did not want to take part in the type of conversation that had likely already seen his would-be espouse become betrothed to his perfect, handsome, non-mutant brother.

"I was just about to ask this lovely baseline of ours a very important question~"

Oh?

About to?

Fulgrim hadn't asked yet?

The angel swore he saw the third wink at him before he started to begin speaking again. Something in those shiny violet eyes beckoned the angel as they stared deep into his ruby red gaze. An opportunity, he thought, a wordless promise. - "ask her now. last chance."

Before the phoenix could fall gracefully onto one knee, the golden primarch hastily plucked the red-diamond ring - a gem color choice Sanguinius found ironic - and fell to both knees. He firmly grabbed both of the human's small hands with his own and placed them gently to his forehead, unmistakably in a position of prayer.

"Please!" He cried. His voice rang almost in protest, if not for the tears forming in his eyes alongside the exasperation in his breath and the sobs in his voice. "Listen not to a word Fulgrim says! You should marry me! Me!" He paused, only to take one pathetic gasp of air and look up into her eyes.

"Brother..."

"You have not one idea how long I have waited, how hard I have worked to find the perfect gift! And now I am rushed! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Sanguinius!" The phoenician shouted. "I was going to ask her if she had eaten yet today. So you could have done this over dinner."

The angel paused; his crying ceased. "What...?" Two crimson eyes both widened, and then dulled in embarrassment as he looked back up at the baseline. She looked at him in complete and utter stupor.

"W-wait. I can explain." He stuttered out.

She sighed in response, but followed the fading of her shock with a grin and gentle laugh.

Sanguinius did not know how he felt, regardless of her pleasant reaction. She gently removed her hands from his, taking her hand and wiping away tears from his pathetic, wet face. "Ask me again over dinner."

Her smile did not fade. Not even for a moment.

The ninth shared a sigh of his own, before giving a nod and a kind smile of his own in approval. He hoped he hadn't looked as bad as he thought, despite his disheveled hair, wings browned from terran dust, and now burning red cheeks.

"I will clean myself up, and do this properly." He promised. He bowed slightly to her, taking her hand and giving the back of it a soft and proper kiss. "Wear your nicest clothing. I will treat you to whatever you wish, as an apology."

"To tonight, then." She gracefully returned his bow. Her face was covered in a gentle blush of its own, her eyes just as upturned and full of joy as they had been earlier. Perhaps now even more so.

The angel turned to search for Fulgrim, hoping to give him a gaze that asked whether or not this was a good thing.

When his eyes finally found his brother, though, he was already making his way out of the greenhouse. Shaking his head and indulging in some giggles of his own.

Solspina's Scribellum✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

@astrohymn @moodymisty @undeaddream

@lemon-russ @kit-williams @nereidof40k

@jackalwolfsoul @beckyninja @verylazykiwi

(please comment to be added/removed from my taglist !!)

[moodymisty]

Author's note: Inspired by this post, and @kit-williams life changing addition

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some NSFW references

“Care to play a game with me brother?”

Sanguinius looks to Guilliman with a smile that he does not return.

“Not particularly. Though I imagine this wasn’t actually a question.”

Sanguinius smiles wider, before pointing someone out among the crowd of bodies.

“Do you see that young lady over there, in the purple?” Guilliman spots you among the crowd of marines shuffling to return to their drop ships.

“Yes, and?” Sanguinius has the expression of a man who knows something his others do not, which fails to amuse Guilliman in the slightest.

“She is the lover of one of our brothers. Care to guess who?”

Guilliman gives him a look of surprise that is uncharacteristic of him. He had assumed you were a remembrancer, a navigator perhaps that looks oddly more human than they usually do.

“One of the Primarchs has taken a consort? That is-“ Sanguinus waves his hand and brushes off the man’s words.

“Unimportant. Guess.”

Guilliman sighs- displeased at being interrupted - before he looks back your way, and thinks.

“Vulkan.”

An obvious choice; Vulkan is both kindhearted to unaugmented humans and is frequently around baseline populations, but Sanguinius shakes his head.

“Fulgrim.”

He’s had wives before, though he thought the Phoenician swore off it because of heartbreak. Sanguinus shakes again.

“…Magnus?”

Guilliman's voice raises in a now genuinely questioning tone. The fabric of your robes is similar to that of the Thousand Sons, but Sanguinius shakes again- Guilliman expresses his distaste.

“Sanguinius this game is ridiculous and I-��

Guilliman stops when he sees Mortarion walk up to you, saving you from being lost in a sea of marines. He looks down at you with his discontent neutral expression, the decayed skin of his lips shifting with thinly veiled irritation. His limp grey hair falls in chunks around his face, and without his mask, he lets out a cough before composing himself.

He reaches a hand out to grab your arm, and you bite your lip. You say something Guilliman cannot hear nor read off your lips, but it’s something that visibly surprises the primarch.

Guilliman is stunned into silence before quickly stammering.

“That is not true. There is absolutely no-“

Sanguinius laughs, overjoyed to see Guilliman’s genuine shock.

“Oh I have proof brother. Besides their loving gazes in public eye, my Sanguinary Guard… Quite unfortunately seemed to pass by Mortarion's private quarters on the way to mine and overheard some disquieting things.

“Mortarion!”

There was the sound of wood slamming against the wall, the sound of flesh and skin. A woman’s screams echoed through the walls as more concerning sounds slipped from the safety of the primarch’s chambers.

“Mortarion! Please!”

Sanguinius is still disquieted by it. ‘Mortarion is torturing serfs’ his guards had thought and told him, before their helmet recordings had realized they greatly misunderstood.

An awkward conversation, that had been.

What a beautiful woman you were, smiling up at Mortarion with eyes so full of love Sanguinius hadn’t thought it possible. To think you love a man stuck in a cycle of disease so readily and fully.

And deeply, judging by the slamming his guards had overheard.

Guilliman looks a bit paler, watching Mortarion shove you forward to follow his men.

“I… must go. I would thank you for your time but given what I have learned today, I quite honestly don’t believe it deserves gratitude.”

Sanguinius laughs with his entire chest, patting Guilliman on the shoulder.

[kit-williams]

Oh no there's now two of each Primarch!

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

Lady Dorn just sighs as now she has to hear her husband in stereo. She just enjoys the bit more affection her not husband Rogal offers her.

Sorsilla doesn't like the way that they both just grin at her like some sort of predator as she doesn't want to let them know she's lost track of which ones is hers.

The Lady of the Death Guard just sighs as she has now two husbands to make sure are okay. Of course she enjoys the amount of flower crowns they rest on her head smiling as she is unaware of the growing madness in the eyes of the newcomer.

Lady Corax just watches in horror as she assumes her not husband says something about her and her husband erupted into violence. She is hiding with Shrike... The legion is concerned.

She looks at the two Alpharius' no one is an Alpharius and the other is an Omegon... The dread she feels is from the fact this means there are four of them running around.

Lady El'Johnson sighs as her Lion snarls at the newcomer as of course he would say having her on his arm was a waste of time. And in retort her Lion shocks her with being publicly affectionate with her... She won't say no to her knight...

Fulgrim had sworn off of marriage as you attend to the two Primarchs as they speak quietly. You were just a serf but you could see the way this newcomer looks at you. You blink as he pulls you into your lap just once again you being treated like a doll for him to fuss over... Why did you feel so warm under his gaze...

Jaghatai happily discusses topics with himself as you're asleep in the newcomers lap having fallen asleep with his fingers running through your hair and gently against your scalp.

"Heel!" Lady Russ says as she pulls on the braids of the overly affectionate Primarch. As the two of them eagerly stole her away with her not husband eagerly asking where Leman found you as they handle you roughly before piling into a side room to rip your clothes and paw at your body.

Ferrus looked as his counterpart as they both knew where they kept you... Both having found you already in their respective universes and both putting you away to keep you safe.

Lady Guilliman looked at the older version of her husband. He never found you... He looks like the weight of the galaxy is crushing him and suffocating him. "Please," he begs softly, "just hold me a little bit more." He holds her close as he savors this dream.

Horus can see the stewing jealousy from himself as he wants to touch you. But Horus knows himself and it won't stop with a touch... Never with you... And he doesn't know if he's willing to share you with himself.

Lady Aurilian shakes her head as her husband at times can be insufferable but now there is two of him crooning your praises. It's adorable and insufferable but it is also your husband and a version of himself before meeting you...

Magnus happily converses with himself hoping to help himself avoid small mistakes. The poor Lady of the Thousand sons is a mewling mess as the two Psyker Primarchs are playing with your soul and you once more orgasm with a scream.

He has the Red Lady take away the pain of himself for a moment. He holds her tight against his chest as she twitches violently in pain, he grabs the stunned Angron's tunic and just tells him where he found you and what year all down to the last details. "Save her from her High Rider" the red angel hisses in pain as the nails bite hard before they return to a full ache as she returns to taking his pain again. Leaving the ladyless Angron to burn that information into his mind for a chance to have relief.

The Lady of the Blood Angels feels anemic as she can see that predatory look in this new Sanguinius' eyes... She knows her husband well enough and by the way they coo at her... She swallows nervously.

The Lady of the Salamanders smiled at her not husband who eagerly gave her hugs. Oh how lovely to meet you before actually meeting you! And he must love you terribly given how he could see the simmering anger from himself as he stole kisses from you much to your delight.

Out of all the spouses only Penelope is vibrating with excitement that there are two of her husband! While the two of them scowl at each other there is just a happily bouncing mortal woman with a chance at a wild and impossible fantasy of hers to be fulfilled... To which her Perturabo just rolls his eyes as she just bewilders the other as she gets to trying to seduce him.

[wxnheart]

𝐅*𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐮𝐭, 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐲 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

note: *Horny Heresy inTENSIFIES*; take this seriously. or don't. your choice. just keep fucking around and finding out.

Lion El'Jonson - You always wondered what a visibly frustrated Lion would look like but you didn't have the self-awareness to fucking STOP until it was too late. And so here you are, hands bound in shackles, suspended bare before the First himself. For a while, he said and did nothing save for his eyes roving along the contours of your body. That was soon replaced with a curious hand and the moan you let out was heretical, indeed.

Fulgrim - It's a... miracle you can walk. And talk. And still breathe. Mmm... you weren't expecting that out of Fulgrim were you? You look like you've fought a battle and lost while nary a hair is out of place on his head.

Perturabo - Turns out he's not an ass with a martyr complex where it counts. He's still an ass, though... who ironically has a nice ass. Who knew that armor hid so much. Bastard. He may or may not like when you smack it.

Jaghatai Khan - Simply put, you found out on his bike. You were stumbling for a bit afterward.

Leman Russ - Well you didn't have to fuck around for long. In fact, Leman was practically waiting for the moment to pounce, and pounce he did. There's a reason why he's The Wolf King because Leman had you howling all throughout the night, dear.

Rogal Dorn - Perhaps the most surprising encounter of the Primarch. Dorn has some freak bitch tendencies, let me tell ya. All the signs were there what with his fondness for the Pain Glove.

Konrad Curze - *stares in judgemental Sevatar.*

Sanguinius - Watching him succumb to his lust was so beautiful. He had you right where he wanted you, enveloped tightly in his arms, embraced fully with his wings. The Brightest One's eyes are so clouded with a feral desire. He leaned down, pressed a tentative kiss on the pulse of your neck, and you were putty in his arms.

Ferrus Manus - Yeah, Ferrus is many things but when it comes to the matter of the flesh, um... yeah, you had to make the first move. He's got the spirit, though.

Angron - Whew. You fucked around and found out, alright. You riled Angron up so much, all you remember is him growling, muttering something in his native Nucerian tongue, and the next thing you know, your clothes were in tatters around you and he looked feral as he eyed your naked body. Oh.

Roboute Guilliman - Turns out he's a fan of office sex; you fucked around so much that Guilliman had your ass finding out on his desk. With his head buried between your legs. Please be quiet, my dear. There are people beyond those four walls. And yes, please run your fingers through his hair some more. Tug on it a little, too.

Mortarion - *stares in seventy times seven whilst surrounded by seven of the Death Guard.*

Magnus the Red - You thought Guilliman was the only one who liked it when you pulled his hair? Comes with a side of... pleasurable Warp shenanigans.

Horus Lupercal - The hoochiest of the hoochie daddies. The Primarch meets your bullshit with the most blissfully arrogant smile ever and proceeds to keep you up the entire night, reminding you why the Emperor named him Warmaster. Those tactics in the bedroom are devastating, babe. You're practically a zombie the next day.

Lorgar Aurelian - D'aww, look at Lorgar's inner dom coming out. All that resentment came out in one of the best hatefucks of your life. Kudos to you, darling.

Vulkan - You fuck around and find out and it turns into an all-night bear hug bonanza. But naked.

Corvus Corax - He puts his abilities to... good use. "Nevermore", quoth the Raven as he pulled you into the comfortable embrace of the darkness and made you his wonderful Lenore.

Alpharius Omegon - GOTTA FUCK 'EM ALL! ALPHA LEGION!

[vassalor]

The Primarch consorts

So, i just read @relax-and-read-on hc about the primarch kids, and it gave me some funny headcanon idea about their their wife/mate/consort whatever their title is.

So.

Sanguinius: The opposites almost attract to each other. Or in Sanguinius case his wife have a quite a short temperament and not afraid to bicker with her husband brothers *cough*mostly Fulgrim*cought*and Konrad*cough*, but mostly because she is a kind and caring soul too who cannot stand this two psychos and their actions. Luckly for her, amazing birdboy always at the rescue. Im sure he have some gray hair because of her, but Sanguinius love her all with his heart. This is also a reason why he extra cautious with his other brothers whose actually want to steal her from him (mostly Leman, he love the fierce ones)

Fulgrim: His poor darling is kinda a nervous wreck. She always want to give her best to please her husband, and strangely Fulgrim love his wife, but its more like to love a fancy accessory than a real people. And when she realise this, she have a breakdown. Sanguinius wife was one who is in charge to help her recovery (and also want to kill the fancy Primarch, ofc it failed). Deep down, Fulgrim know he is bad about thinking his wife like this, but the refuse to go therapy out of pride. I think he never visit her, but always send someone to gather information about her condition and he is a little bit happy if he hear good news.

Angron: He met his consort an anger issue session and you cant change my mind about it. She is an expert if it comes to help her husband ruts and thanks to her advise, his legion somehow able to understand their leader true condition. Angron eternally greatful to his wife love and support and give his best in the relationship. Nobody (not even Horus) dare to even think about hurt her, because...ye know....angry Angron is not funny...sayin politely.

Lorgar: I think he met with his wife during one of his heretic hunt and she happened to be  a sacrifice in a pagan ritual. Lorgar saved her and she immediatly saw him as her “god”. He is a busy man but he always have time for his equally religious darling (maybe he groomed her to be like this, but who knows) and she totally devoted to him. And Lorgar love this aspect of his darling and trust her with all his might. Because he KNOW she never gonna betray him.

Ookay, who will be the next 4? :3

[relax-and-read-on]

My top 18 primarch, in descending order.

Bcs I want yell about my boys and everyone has to accept that traitor primarch are just Build Different. Btw- if anyone wants me to drop my headcanons about... Anything primarch related, or just want me yelling about narrative and such, drop in my ask lmao.

18. - Lion el'Johnson: A bastard. A fucking bastard. I made an entire post on why his story is terrible. He make ne enraged. God. 0/10, you were not even in the running.

17. - Ferrus Manus: boy your so lucky fanon made you better, because you actually bore me to tears in canon. It's bad when your best attribute is that your bff with someone else. 1/10, at least you TRIED.

16. - Horus Lupercal: My dude. My bro. Why u so boring. Seriously, for the main big bad guy, your so bland... Another case of "his relationship to others are more interesting than his own story." 1/10, for fucking up big E.

15. - Jaghatai Khan: It's not you, it's me. I don't know enough about him and I just can't seem to FIND anything that really hook me to him. Also, his aesthetic don't work for me. 2/10, he seem nice at least.

14. - Alpharius Omegon: Listen you two. I want to like you. I want to enjoy your deal. But I would need to *figure out your fucking story first*. Bastards. Absolute gremlin. They would be out of the contest if they weren't low key funny. 3/10 for trolling potential.

13. - Rogal Dorn: I can ear my gf howling in anger at her fav being so low. But, for all his awkwardness and autistic coding, I just... Don't really vibe with the guy. Also, urg, his color scheme offend me. And I'm a Pert fan. 3/10, mostly so my gf don't yell at me.

12. - Leman Russ: I would like you my dude if your writing did not make me viscerally angry. Also, you fucked over my boy magnus *and for what hu????* No right. He's only this high because fandom save him, and he's stupidly sexy. 4/10 would have a drunk one night stand with.

11. - Mortarion: The deal is, I want to like Morty more. He's aesthetically pleasing and seem to have my type of personality. I just... Can't seem to "get" him, if that make sense? I want to know more about him. I want to like him more. 4/10, you intrigue me.

10. - Sanguinius: I knoooow, perfect angel baby, so low?!? But that's the thing, he's kinda... Too perfect. He's like good white bread. Sure, it's good, but it's still just freaking white bread. Fandom make him a lot more interesting tho. 5/10, I would marry him and divorce him a few ywars later, and it would 100% be me fault.

9. - Angron: Oh Angron. My sweet son. You writing goes from so my of the best to some of the worst. You legitimately had the most tragic story line. You never had a single chance. He has Karn at his side, wich is another 11/10 character. I like him, but he's a bit one note. 6/10, would attempt a one night stand and get murdered for it. Worth it.

8. - Fulgrim: ok we are REALLY hitting the fav bunch now. First of all, our man here is queer coded, wich make me legally obligated to stan him. Second... The DRAMA he being. Third, he's nice (?) to Konrad. Fourth, mf has the Most Dramatic primarch murder with Ferrus. He's larger than life. I'm a bit sad that his fall was not... Better written.... But I adore him, and his army, and his overly emotional queer ass. 7/10, also happen to be the best dressed primarch and I respect the FUCK outta that.

7. - Corvus Corax: It's CROW CROW AYEEE!! The entire concept of the character is too good ngl. Communist sciency sneaky baby white raven and Poe aesthetic?!? Excuse me did someone ask 14 years old me to come up with the concept???? And THEN he become a warp entity to bully Lorgar?!? Seriously, other character deserve cool shit too! 8/10, I kinda want to be him more than I want to sleep with him.

6. - Roboute Guilliman: listen. *Listen*. People are legit sleeping on Roboute. This man?? Is *funny*. It's just that no one realised that he has the best sarcastic humour this side of the eye of terror. He's funny, care about others, and just generally get so DONE about things, it's incredible. I love him in 40k. He's such a good character. 9/10, would make a excellent father to my kids.

5. - Magnus The Red: Magnus. Ohhhh Magnus. Canon and fanon love you so much. You are a wonderful, complete and uther prick. I say this with love. One of the best storyline, for one of the most well loved character. An absolute favorite. My only grip is that sometime he's a bit *too* much... But he still usually likable at the end of the day. 9.5/10, you just don't have that perfect ompf facter.

4. - Lorgar Aurelian: I was raised catholic so I have an excuse!!! Would he gaslight me?? Yes. Do I feel incredible sympathies for a man who wanted to be good and was thrown away by his literal god? Does he has probably what amount to the best narrative is 40k? Also yes to both. Do I think he's sexy? Most definitely. The only reasons he's not higher is that he become kinda stall once he won. 10/10, a story of biblical proportion.

3. - Vulkan: Listen. *Listen*. I'm sorry, but it's REALLY hard to not objectified his sexy himbo ass. God. He has the same energy as those sexy firemen calendar holding puppy's. Like, bro, you have to choose, you can't be a greek god AND the nicest. He's so good, he ascended past the shitty writing he was served. An icon. 11/10, would present him to my parents.

2. - Perturabo: you ever find a character that is like, all the toxic red flag you like and make you whisper "I can fix him"??. This is how I feel about Perturabo. I adore his story. I adore that he make his own misery. That he's a bastard. And that, under all that iron, all he ever wanted was recognitions, love and acceptance. He may bot have the best storyline of 40k, but he certainly has my favorite. I adore him. 1000/10, would marry that toxic man in a heartbeat.

1. - Konrad Curze: My son. My baby gremlin cannibal son. He eat people. He's awful. He doesn't bath. He enjoy suffering. But he's still one of the best written character in 40k. His books, and any Night Lords book for the matters, are wonderful tragedy. It's unreal. He's so wonderful. So tragic. I love him. I want to be his mom. Infinite/10, I don't even want to fuck him that's HOW MUCH I love him.

[djemsostylist]

Echoes of Eternity: Dembski-Bowden

The Khan lies on the edge of death. Rogal Dorn is encircled, fighting his own war at Bhab Bastion. Guilliman will not reach Terra in time. Bereft of his brothers, Sanguinius – the Angel of the Ninth Legion – waits on the final battlements, hoping to rally a desperate band of defenders and refugees.

“This is the tale of a few souls with their backs to the final wall”, Aaron says, “making their last stand at the Eternity Gate, at the very end of everything.

"Bereft of his brothers" 😭

“Zephon, Amit, and Arkhan Land are on one side of the war, as Terra starts to curdle in the grip of Chaos. Zephon and Amit embody entirely different elements of the Blood Angels Legion – and have walked starkly different paths to reach the final battle."

AMIT. My son is back 😭 And Zephon? Was Land able to save him? Is he in a Dreadnaught now? 😭

“On the other side of the battle is Kargos and Lotarra Sarrin, both still reeling from the ‘death’ of Khârn"

"Still reeling from the death of Kharn". 😭 STILL REELING FROM THE DEATH OF KHARN. OF COURSE SHE IS. BC HE DIED AND NOW SHE IS ALL ALONE AT THE END WITH CONQUERER 😭😭😭😭

This is everything I have ever wanted. Please give me everything. I'm not gonna make it. It's okay.

[dese-o]

I do remember that in Dante’s novels by the way they are functionally used there and how they got their own humity saving feature it reminds me a lot of the stillsuits from Dune.

(it’s been almost a year since I read, so please take this with a grain of salt)

Something I personally did not understand is why did Sanguinius was wear a pelt with his radiation suit in the middle of the desert during the past segment of Echoes Eternity :/ Like imagine how much the poor bird was sweating while flying there

Out of curiosity, what do y'all think the fashion and cultural inspiration on Baal or Barbarus would be like? Besides vague Romanesque theming, of course.

I'm thinking of maybe doing some high fashion interpretation of a radiation suit(with some artistic liberties) for Sanguinius, but Mortarion is a big question mark in my head. No there will not be a giant leopard pelt on the former. I cannot feasibly think of where the hell Sanguinius got it outside of trade and I'm trying to stick to what I think the Primarch homeworlds could realistically produce themselves.

[askmalal]

“Please ask the Primarchs who they’d save from the traitors if they could.”

I assume OP means which of th “Traitor Primarchs” that can be saved,here. I’ll ask the lads. I have ways.

Me: Well, gentlemen, and Ferrus, here we are again with a question for you from a squish... erm, an unmodified human.

Vulkan: Wonderful! Who were you again?

Me: Mal... Malcom. Malcom Reynolds, Rogue Trader.

Vulkan: Good to see you again, Mal!

Guilliman: How is the family?

Me: Belligerent.

Guilliman: Erm... good, I think?

Vulkan: What is the question this time. Malcom?

Me: A hard one, perhaps. Of the “Fallen” Primarchs.... if you could save one of them, whom would you save?

Vulkan: That is a hard question. But it is a fair one.

Guilliman: Magnus. That was handled poorly.

Russ: Hey!

Guilliman: Not by you. By the whole of the Imperium.

Russ: Thank you. I think?

Me: And you, Leman?

Russ: (Redacted)

Me: Well said.

Dorn: I absolutely will -not- name the person you all think I should.

Vulkan: Heavens forfend. In my case, Fulgrim. I believe he could be persuaded. He was a good man, once.

Russ: Was that before or after deliberately massacring innocent people?

Vulkan: Before.

Russ: Oh. Eerm. Alright.

Head of Ferrus Manus: I do not think Fulgrim could be saved. Just a hunch. If I could still hunch. You bastards.

Vulkan: Whom, then, dear brother?

Head of Ferrus Manus: None of them. They were all weak.

Jaghatai Khan: And this is why nobody invited you for the holidays.

Russ: That, and he -literally- cannot keep a mask on.

Dorn: Conrad. He could have been helped. If someone had bothered to try.

The Lion: Alpharius. A brilliant mind wasted.

Corax: Alpharius, it turns out, had a twin.

*the others laugh*

Corax: Why does nobody believe me when I tell them that?

The Khan: Lorgar. I would save Lorgar. That is all I will say on the matter.

Sanguinius: I would save Angron. What a tragedy, what a waste!

Vulkan: Not Horus?

Sanguinius: Horus -chose-his damnation. Even Fulgrim hesitated.

Guilliman: Astute.

Sanguinius: No. Merely a truth lost in a sea of novels with no story bible, I think.

Corax: “Story Bible”

Vulkan: A collection of basic tenets used when creating fiction. A sort of list of “do and do not” rules. The structural basics of an ongoing plot. Who is who, what is going on in a very broad sense...

The Khan: For example, “do not create a major character fifty eight novels in to a franchise”

Guilliman: “the Doctor is -not-half human.”

Me: “Olanius Pius is a cornerstone of this story.”

Corax: Wait. The people who write our novels don’t work from a common story outline?

Vulkan: No. Only for sections of the story, but there is no general plot or study bible.

Russ: This is how you get Cabals, forget major characters, never resolve the fate of Saul Tarvitz.

Guilliman: ...watch writers make insane statements about major plot points on social media feeds....

Dorn: Is it too late to say I would save Sméagol? I would save Sméagol.

[blogofthegloriousmongoose]

Children of Seth: Vengeful Dead

(So this is the first chapter of a story I’m writing for one of the homebrew space marine chapters I’ve made, please let me know what you think, any criticisms are appreciated as I was hoping to submit this to GW. Also annoyingly Tumblr hates my formatting)

“Fear not what we must do, for you are the glory of the Imperium and you shall rise again to fulfil mankind’s manifest destiny of ruling this galaxy. There are great deeds that remain undone, enemies yet to conquer and raptures yet to rejoice in. So, as it is written, so shall it be done. The Imperishable, has proclaimed it - let none dare oppose his will!” - Children of Seth rite of initiation

Chapter 1

Lucky

Skin Breakers

The Angel calls

The Angel calls. That simple phrase, had echoed through the dreams of the scions of Sanguinius for months, bringing with it feelings of pain, of temptation and finally of the Great Angel himself, his noble, statuesque features contorted in unimaginable pain and regret, bloody tears pouring from his eyes as he lay on a desolate field of bones. The Angel calls. It had been this maddening cry that had brought the offspring of the Lord of the IX legion to their ancestral homeworld, blanketing the skies of Baal with a vast kaleidoscopic menagerie of ships; battle-barges and strike cruisers, all cast of the colours of Blood Angel's successors.

It was into this vast assembly that the battle-barge Setehk; flagship of the Children of Seth slipped from the warp, great purple coils of empyric energy sloughing away from the form of the vast obsidian and crimson plated battleship. Bristling with lances, macrocannons and innumerable torpedo bays which, when combined with the great rents and scorch marks from the recent Nehkar campaign, gave the battle-barge an aura of predatory savagery as it gently drifting through the cold void towards Baal.

The observatory of the Setehk was silent, save the soft droning hum of the gellar field, as it slowly receded with the transition into real-space, the tense static charge that filled the battle-barge during the in-warp transit gently died away. Rahma Anubian, Chapter Master of the Children of Seth and Herald of the Storm stood in the centre of room, his jackal-faced helmet was mag-locked to the side of his power armour; allowing him to inhale the dry, calming smell of the ceremonial incense that poured from openings in the hieroglyph-emblazoned sandstone chamber. His eyes, ambered by the blight that cursed all scions of Angel stared intently at desolate, sandy form of Baal Primus. Though it had been a century since the world had been scoured clean and left as a barren featureless husk Rahma could still feel the burning skull-forged mark of Ka'bandha, as if the daemon's infernal sigil still loomed large on the world's greatest plateau. The memories of Baal's devastation still haunted him, the almost infectious fury of the Knights of Blood, the ravenous mass of xenos descending on the surviving astartes.

The great chittering horde of tyranids seemed to be everywhere, bladed chitinous limbs lashed out from every direction, each scythe-limb attempted to carve through Rahma's relic armour. With each swing of his ancient lightning claw and khopesh the chapter master ripped through innumerable screeching monsters, each bloody tear sending a thrill of furious joy through the Herald of the Storm, the desire to gorge on the flesh and blood of the xenos singing through his mind, the red thirst's savage bloodlust burning through his will, he felt his voice rising; a mad, hungry roar began tearing its way from his throat. One hormagaunt, its repulsive, needle-fanged maw dripping with toxin filled drool lunged out from the great mass, its bladed limb slicing into Rahma's left pauldron, carving into the ceramite with high-pitched shriek, whirling around, the hateful snarl his face was set into was hidden by the cold glare of the jackal-helmet Anubian gave a maddening howl; bringing down his lightning claw, shredding the alien's skull and charring it into a wad of stinking meat. As the delirium of the red thirst overwhelmed him he became aware of a voice, ragged and straining; it was Ahmes, chief librarian of the Children of Seth carving his way through the chattering horde towards Rahma, his scar riddled face contorted with hatred as he waded towards his chapter master, the blade of his sickle-headed staff was ablaze, searing through the ravenous tyranids. As he reached Rahma he impaled a hormagaunt before vomiting forth a great kaleidoscopic inferno into the onrushing horde. With this infinitesimal moment of calm Ahmes turned to his chapter master, he desperately howled at him 'MY LORD! WE HAVE TO FALL BA-' The mind-shattering cacophony of the desperate battle was suddenly torn asunder by a vast bellow of hatred, fed by a hunger for bloody revenge cultivated over the millennia. A huge, muscle-bound form, covered in crimson blood-toned skin rose above the disgusting, insectile xenos, immense bat-like wings spreading as it stood, the ground around it burning with unholy fire. Clad in infernal brass armour, blackened by uncountable wars and wielding a terrible barbed whip and an immense double-headed axe that, even whilst bafflingly clean seemed to gush blood from its twin-blades the abomination rose; it was Ka'Bandha, eternal nemesis of the scions of Sanguinius. As he gazed at his gene-line's greatest, most murderously persistent foe Rahma felt the blood-crazed rage of the red thirst begin to finally overwhelm his mind, felt his head pound, his brain throb agonisingly as through his skull was too small, it blinded him with frenzied madness, each murderous pulse of his synapses flooding him with the urge wallow in the steaming gore of the freshly killed. With a strained, pain-filled twitch Rahma began lurching towards the crimson-skinned daemon, a murderous bellow of rage rising again in his throat. As he began hacking his way towards Ka'bandha and the bloodletters that were ripping their way into reality around him, as he slowly staggered towards the greater daemon his consciousness faded into a bloody-haze.

'You were lucky Ahmes was able to save you my lord.’ The voice jolted Rahma from his reverie, internally cursing himself he turned to see Chike approaching. Even though he was fully clad in his ancient, hieroglyph-covered ceremonial armour the commander of the Ushabti was practically silent, each step soundless as the crocodile-faced helmet seemed to grin darkly as he stared at him. His face set into a cold stare Rahma cocked an eyebrow attempting to exude an aura of polite disinterest as the captain of his guard drew up beside him. ‘Oh, what pray tell did I need saving from?’ Mentally Rahma flinched, even to himself he sounded angry and childishly petulant. Even though he was helmeted Rahma could feel the gentle sadness radiating from Chike. When he finally spoke the captain of the Ushabti’s voice was laced with dejection ‘Rahma, the Thirst nearly took you-’ he gestured to his chapter master's once brown, now stark amber eyes 'If it wasn't for Ahmes-' ‘I was in control.’ Rahma’s cold monotone cut through Chike's admonishment, though his face was blank the barely concealed anger in his voice was obvious, eyes burning with frustration. With a guttural snarl from this back of his throat the captain of the Ushabti removed the sneering helmet, the scars on his face contorted into an irritated grimace, Chike’s voice was brimming with exasperation ‘That shit might satisfy the others Rahma but I know you. You can’t even look at the Flensing Storm. Every time you’re near that damn thing you shrink away!’ Rahma winced. The moment Chike had mentioned the Flensing Storm the Lord of Atum could feel the ancient khopesh’s presence, it seemed to burn into the back of his head, somehow he felt it watching him, as though the chapter masters of old; Djoser, Khufu...even the First One each one watched and judged him for his weakness. Reflexively, as though to turn their gaze away Rahma gripped the scarab marked pommel of the axe at his side, his mouth twisting in a slight snarl, the strain in his voice was as thick as a sheet of ice ‘Were it anyone else: Imhotep, Aharon, were it any of them that talked to me like that they would be returning to Ahm Shere-‘ he paused for a moment, a frigid smile spreading across his face ‘-and not necessarily alive.’ For a moment the commander of the Ushabti smirked before glancing at the stand that the Flensing Storm rested on, his eyes fixed on the ancient relic ‘Your terrible jokes aren’t going to distract from what happened Rahma-.’ a great shadow passed over the observatory, the two astartes glanced up. An immense battle-barge, it’s colours the inverse of the Setehk, it’s symbol a brutal serrated saw blade centred with a crimson blood drop: it was the Victus, the flagship of the Flesh Tearers; their brutal progenitors. Chike, his voice soft with awe was barely a murmur ‘-but...that might.’

The Angel calls. The Angel calls. The Angel calls.

Despite the buzz of activity on the bridge of the Victus those were the only words Gabriel Seth could hear, shipmaster Berkan was speaking at him, his mouth was moving and presumably words were coming out, but Seth couldn’t hear them. All he could hear was that damned cry. The Angel calls. He ran a plated hand over his bald scalp, scratching the freshest scar; a trio of great clawed rips, running from temple to cheek. The tyranid beast that given him those scars didn’t last long after it brought itself to his attention. The Guardian of Rage smirked at the memory. The insectile beast had screeched out a challenge to him, it’s eyes shined hungrily, murderously. He’d torn off its jaw and beaten its skull in- The Angel calls.

The Lord of Cretacia ground his teeth angrily, the cry intruded on everything nowadays, it set him edge, inflamed the thirst, stoked the rage. A voice pierced the irritable malaise settling over Gabriel, wrenching him back to reality; it was Raik, one of Guilliman's monsters, though he wore the colours of Nassir Amit and bore the gene-seed of Sanguinius, to the chapter master of the Flesh Tearers he was an abomination, simply seeing him set Seth's blood boiling '-Ante is convening the council at Angel's Fall. What is your command?' Snapping back to attention Seth's face twisted slightly into a bizarre snarl-smile 'What do you want Raik?' the primaris looked confused for a moment, though obviously disconcerted the lieutenant's voice remained clipped and professional 'We have been hailed my liege, Lord Commander Dante wishes us to convene at Angel's Fall, before the council. We are to meet him and Lord Rahma Anubian of the Children of Seth.' At the mention of the Atumians Gabriel Seth groaned, he knew the reason why Dante had requested this meeting; he knew their name and the planet's veneration of him embarrassed him, he'd been actively avoiding serving alongside them of late and Dante knew it. 'Lord Seth?' Raik's voice again snapped him back to his surroundings 'Fine. Hail the Setehk, let them know.' whirling around, the Guardian of Rage strode from the bridge of the Victus, the conflicting mixture of irritation and amusement obvious on his face at the thought of dealing with the chapter that venerated him so. As he stalked down the corridor several Flesh Tearers, real Flesh Tearers Seth bitterly thought to himself, greeted him, each one nodding with a short grunt, their voices harsh and stunted with the accent grown from the proto-language developing on Cretacia. The Angel calls. The Angel calls. The Angel calls. The cry was back, Seth needed a distraction.

The training hall was a cacophony of bellows and metallic clangs, oil, blood and the occasional scrap of torn replicae-flesh where a battle-brother had been too overzealous against their training servitor. Gazing at the sparring cages vaguely Seth gestured over a pair of pale, emaciated serfs, holding his armoured gauntlet out to them. As with all menials of the Flesh Tearers these two moved in a nervous, flightly manner, seemingly trying to take up as little room as possible, learned over many years of witnessing the results of the volatile blood-fury that every Son of Cretatia wrestled with, as they shakily began to slowly remove his armour Seth turned for a moment and gazed at the shivering bondsman, as the emaciated man clutched his gauntlet he remembered the first time he had seen a serf, that swift pang of pity and confusion he had felt, even as the conditioning did it’s sacred work on his mind he had wondered; how could a man become so wretched? Carnarvon had answered that question, seeing the sympathetic look that had briefly flashed across his future Chapter Master’s face. ‘Boy, what is the first edict of Cretacia?’ His voice had been gravelly and brutal; like a molten avalanche. Sympathy breeds weakness, weakness breeds death.

‘Back again Gabriel? What is it this time? The Angel or the Skin Breakers?’ Snapping out of his reverie Seth saw a serf bowed in-front of him, holding out a practice axe and sword, his fellows shuffled about behind him each man assembled the power armour onto the holding wrack, turning to the source of the voice he saw Captain Thear, fresh from the training cages, the mass of scar-tissue that was his body slick with sweat and blood, behind him limped the Chief Librarian Shei, his face set grin and his hands apparently a few fingers lighter, with a smirk at the use of the taunting moniker Thear himself had first given to the primaris on Baal, Seth snatched the weapons offered by the bowing serfs and strode over to the two, idly spinning the axe in one hand, when he spoke his voice was dripping with a caustic dryness, his eyes alight with amusement ‘I would’ve thought that you’d address your Lord with more respect Thear, after all was it not me who dropped you on your arse five days ago?’ there was a short clashing of steel as axe-head and sword blade knocked together in greeting, the two astartes nodded and smiled before Seth turned to the still panting, slightly hunched Shei ‘You appear to be missing a few fingers there Librarian, are the cages of the Victus too much for you now? Too much time with the Sun Serpents?’. With a breathy snort Shei straightened up, his chest still rapidly rising and falling ‘Just felt like letting this soft one think he’s an actual warrior for once. Anyway, you avoided the question, Skin Breakers-‘ some of the mirth leaked from his voice ‘-or the Angel?’ Seth’s smile slipped slightly ‘Both, and Lord Dante...he wishes us to arrive ahead of the rest-‘ Thear raised an eyebrow and again his crudely harsh voice was thick with sarcasm ‘Oh, such horror!’ With a slight raising of his eyebrow’s Seth continued ‘-along with the Atumians.’ Thear and Shei smirked even more; they had been on Atum when it had first rebelled, when the Children of Seth were first conceived of, when the name had been chosen for them, Shei’s voice, still thick with exhaustion was dripping with faux-confusion ‘I thought you wanted us remembered Gabriel? For the Flesh Tearers to be bound into history? What better way to be remembered than having an entire chapter named in your honour?’ there was a brief grimace from Seth at this ‘Because they treat me like I’m a Primarch.’ That set Thear off into a gutturally brutal fit of howling laughter, Shei simply shook his head and grinned, as with every Flesh Tearer it was a predatory thing and promised violence ‘You’re far too hard on the young ones. They have the fire of Cretacia and Amit in their hearts.’ The image of a howling Rahma Anubian flashed through Seth’s mind, his jackal-headed helmet discarded, his face pulled into a vicious rictus-snarl of hatred, his ambered eyes swimming with mindless blood-hunger ‘Sometimes I wonder; do they have too much of the fire?’

[ask-constantinvaldor]

Say at least one bad thing about every primarch, plus the emperor if you want. Maybe even the other custodes too if you're feeling like it.

*Sips Hot chocolate and pulls out a piece of paper.*

I.  “Despite his knightly demeanor and all his talk of honor and loyalty, The Lion was far too willing to keep secrets, even when he could and should have told the truth.  He believed he should have been chosen Warmaster simply because he was the 1st primarch ever created.  He was unable to  relate to mortals and even his own Legion.  He demanded respect and obedience, but rarely gave it to others, even his own brothers and adopted father.”

II.  REDACTED (They made the mistake of facing me, they should have fled and lived a little longer. Not that they could have escaped the Ten Thousand and I.)

III. “For all his talk of perfection, Fulgrim failed to see the perfection in humility and doing his duty,   All he ever wanted was glory and adoration. He wanted everyone to  sing his praises from the highest mountaintops and the lowest of gutters.” 

IV “Perturabo never should have been given command of a legion.  Like Fulgrim he wanted praise and glory for his achievement.  While paranoia is a strength, Perturabo saw criticism and enemies everywhere, even when it did not exist and even among his own family.  He believed Rogal Dorn was his rival but this rivalry  was a product of his own deranged mind.  His treatment of his Legionaries was sick and disgusting,   While victory cannot be achieved without sacrifice, Perutrabo murdered one in ten of his own legionaries when he was reunited with them, simply because they did not meet his achievable standards.  He spent their lives like a spoiled prince spends gold,  War was never a necessary evil for him, it was an equation and a bill at his doorstep,  One he was too eager to solve by spending his own son’s lives.”

V “The Khan was always a mercurial  soul. A paradox.   Reckless one moment, overcautious and dawdling the next.  A bloodthirsty hound and a diplomat.  A admirable, cultured and philosophical man, and a barbarian that mounted the heads of his foes on his jetbike,  In his desire to not be a tyrant, he neglected discipline and too many White Scars considered becoming traitors, yet in his widsom, he granted them atonement through battle. In short, he traveled down many paths,and ran off the road constantly,  Thankfully the one road he stayed on was one of loyalty.”

VI  “ Leman,.. Like Dorn, I admire him for his steadfast loyalty and envy him for how simple things are for him   Simply tear the Emperor’s enemies apart and follow orders like a good little corgi.  Yet, he is a hypocrite, He claimed his Rune Preists used the power of Fenris, when one could smell the musk of the Warp on them a mile away.  The culture of Fenris may have saved the VIth legion from  tearing itself apart, but it was anathema to the Imperial Truth.  He always assumed the worst in Magnus and that he was always right,  So self-righteous, so  eager to charge with his axe raised high.  So changeable. One second he’s offering you  a tankard of Mjol, The next, you’re head’s been removed and being chewed on by one of his wolves  and he’s bedded your wife, cousin, sister and daughter at the same time. He always chose the most violent and direct option, even when diplomacy might have prevailed.  If I  had brought a leash for him, perhaps Prospero might not been destroyed,and the handful of innocents on the wretched rock might have lived.”  

VII  “I admire Dorn  for his refusal  to compromise his ideals, his honesty and his zeal.   I wish I shared his idealism.  But his refusal to compromise is his greatest weakness.  He is more stubborn than a mule.  He would rather win a moral victory and lose the tactical war than make a hard or dishonorable decision that keep you up at night.  In addition he will not accept that  Arlette will not let him fortify the Tranquil Courts.”

VII  “Konrad Curze  refused to  accept help for dealing with his visions dammed him.  He saw only one way to bring justice, through fear.  The Night Lords were a necessary evil, but under him they became nothing but a band of criminals, He claimed to be a bringer of justice.  A rather bold claim when one skinned men, women, and children alive.”

IX. “Sanguinus was compassionate and empathetic, but he never saw humans as people, he treated them like pets. For all his humiltiy, he basked in thier admiration like a tanner in the sun,  Some part of him he refuses to admit enjoy’s how they view him   He was too idealistic, and like Dorn refused to compromise on his ideals when it would be necessary.  He was also  surprisingly short tempered and hateful on  occasion.   I’m not sure if he knew this, but to some of the Silent Sisterhood, he came off as Misogynist.”  

X “ Ferrus Mannus was incredibly short tempered.  For all his and his legion’s cold-hearted and automata like behavior, he emotions collared him and kept him on his knees like a slave.  He said he would purge the silver from his hand and ban the voluntary cybernetics of the Iron Tenth when the Great Crusade was done, yet if he had the strength he boasted so much of, he would have done it already.  if he was logical  as he claimed to be, he would not have died on Isstvan V.”

XI [REDACTED]

XII.  “Although Angron would not accept it, I pity him.  The Emperor should have let him die.  The Butcher’s Nails have stolen any chance he had for  a happy life, Yet the Butcher’s Nails does not excuse  forcing them to  be implanted them in his men.”

XIII “ Roboute is a statesman second only to Malcador.   What he has done with Ultramar is nothing but remarkable. However, his obsession with control and efficiency, and his idealism, means everything must conform. Everything must be right or it will all fall apart.  He cares for mortals, but like Sanguinius he believes he is their better and knows what’s best for them.  Like the Lion, he demanded respect and obedience, and while he did earn it from his subordinates, like his brother, he had scorn for those who disagreed with his vision and banished them from his presence like the nobleman he denied he was.  One can look no further than the 22nd chapter of the Ultramarines.  These men are Destroyer’s and primarily Terrans from the old XIIIth legion.  Many of their number also come from Ultramar and their Chapter Master is from  the 500 Worlds. Yet the 22nd has a distinctive and unique culture that makes them stand out among the XIIIth ad other legion’s Destroyer Corps.  Gulliman has made his dislike of Destroyer’s weaponry well known and their culture does not fit into his idealized view of his Legion , so he keep them at arms length like a red-headed stepchild. “

XIV.  “Mortarion’s  dislike towards Psykers, while justified due to the abuse of his foster father and the suffering he inflicted on him and the people of Barbarus, does not excuse his blind and irrational  hatred for all of them.  In addition,  he lavished his affection on the legionaries from Barbarus and disbanded the Librarius of his legion.  This made the former Librarians feel like illegitimate children.   Mortarion was a prideful as Fulgrim, and could not accept the fact the Emperor had to save his life. When Mortarion spat on his oaths, he became the very thing he and the old XIVth legion swore to destroy,  a tyrant with a callous disregard for life.”

XV “Magnus was arrogant. He believed himself superior to his brothers because of his abilities. He was a glutton for knowledge, but for all of his knowledge, Magnus was not very wise, and in his folly, dammed our entire species.”

XVI  “  Horus… *sighs and takes a swig of hot chocolate*  As much as I hate to admit it and as much as I tried to turn a blind eye  to it,  Horus was arrogant and acted like a spoiled brat.  For all  his tactical brilliance, for all his humor and kindness, He graved glory and adoration not for his Legion or for humanity,  but for himself.   Like Fulgrim, he wished all to bask in his glory and sing his praises.  Horus wanted statues of himself, wanted people to prostrate themselves before him.  He wanted their affection and love and to say “Yes Horus you are so brilliant what would we do without you.”  

An old quote came to me regarding Horus Lupercal. “Veni Vidi Vici”    Horus Came, he saw galaxy and humanity, and wished to conquer it.  First for the Emperor, now for himself and his sick desires,”

XVII   Lorgar is complicated.   Arlette and I advised to Emperor to be merciful, when He censured him   After the II and XI, I could not bear to slay another one of His children, and Lorgar’s transgression  was nothing compared to  the horrors the II and XI wrought on humanity.    And I sympathized,  with him not wishing to be a warrior, to try and be something besides another warlord.  After all, when the crusade ended, and if Emperor’s safety could be absolutely guaranteed for eternity, i would live in a cave high in Himalzia with sheep for food and company and indulge in falconry and blacksmithing and toymaking and compose philosophical  treaties. I could venture down from  my solitude and strike down injustice and distribute candy and toys  to children.  

I was a dammed fool.

Like Leman, he was so changeable. He was like a child’s bouncy ball.  Except he was loyal and devout in  a misguided way, and than wicked, traitorous and spiteful, burning works and unleashing damnation with a smile on his face.  

Lorgar had such faith in Emperor, he deified him,  raised statues and built church’s all for Him.  Now he is devoted to the Primordial Annihilator and will do anything to please his gods.

If only he had such  faith in Humanity.

XVIII “ Vulkan’s Promethean Creed is an admirable philosophy.  He had a heart bigger than an Ordinatus and kindness, compassion and smiling all came so easily to him.  I envy him for his effortless kindness.   Kindness, compassion and smiling are all things the Ten Thousand must hone as much as our skills in  assassination and bladework.

Yet that compassion in his greatest weakness, Vulkan is not a warrior, he is a builder, a worker ant defending his anthill out of love. A blacksmith who forged all his creation but his weapons with pride.”  

XIX “ Corax’s goal of liberating those in bondage is an admirable goal. Yet for all his time spend hiding in shadows, he failed to  recognize necessary evils. On  a personal note, I believe this character flaw led to his Terran legionaries meeting an ignoble end.”

XX  The Alpha Legion began as a hammer in the shadow, another necessary evil.   Yet when  Alpharius took  control, they became a twisted serpent.  The old Christian devil in  the form of a Hydra. Alpharius was a glutton for complicated plots and schemes.  He is intoxicated on suffering and disorder.  He is like  Horus in the regard that all must know they were outsmarted by him.  All most know that as soon  as they sat down at the Regicide table with him, they were played like a damn fiddle.”  

Any complaint’s about the Emperor, I shall keep to myself.

Arlette and I may have our disagreements, but we have each other’s back.  

The only custodian I can complain about is Diocletion. He is quite frankly, a Dick.  Empathy and compassion are skills he must learn.  Time with the Ligo  Aetos and humanity itself will be his teacher. “

[kit-williams]

40k & D&D crossover

So I've been playing with this idea for a couple of years now and only just recently started to work on it in earnest. So there will be headcanon posts coming/drabbles

So the D&D portion is based off of a homebrew (not mine I'm just a player) but I was making characters based off of the Primarchs and so I then decided hey why not expand upon this.

(God this is going to be messy as it's been ages since I've written last and somehow I recently got my ADHD ass dragged into lusting over COD men so forgive me)

The basis of this is all based on the fact that when Magnus fell to Chaos his soul got shattered (unsure if this was retconed or not) so one of these shards decided to save his brothers and through various points in time (and occasionally a space marine or two because time if flux for this Magnus shard)

* Debating on how much they actually know or if it's all Horus Heresy era knowledge. So when they all were brought to this new place the Heresy was still raw for them all. However they are all free from the corrupting influence of Chaos.

The brothers travelled together, which for a medieval setting they were practically a small warband of godlings, unsure of how long they travelled but during that time of them all figuring out their new home without Chaos or the Emperor around they helped Angron with his butchers nails.

Eventually the brothers split either due to a disagreement or just they found a part of the world they wanted to call home but eventually they split apart and each decided to start their own family.

Please let me know if anyone is interested in learning more as I'll need some help with names, classes, and races for some of them.

COD idea

Primarch Wife Child

Lion El'Jonson Gloria Luthor

Fulgrim The Matron Lucia

Perturabo Faustina Martel

Jaghatai Khan Help me Help me

Leman Russ Ylva Bjorn

Rogal Dorn Help me Sigismund

Konrad Curze Gloria Talos

Sanguinius Siv Vilka the Bloody

Ferrus Manus Help me Help me

Angron Nieve Kharn

Roboute Guilliman Help Me Cato

Mortarion Honeysuckle Lily

Magnus the Red Help Me Zahirah

Horus Lupercal Eirene Luna

Logar Aurelian Mary Eve

Vulkan Ulna/Migheth Ember

Corvus Corax Rook Raven

Alpharius Omegon The Face F: Gamma M: Zeta

[wxnheart]

Sanguinius x reader Part 6 of 7 - thank you again for indulging me on this. Part 7 will be tomorrow – New Fic Writer Anon.

__

The next night, you couldn’t help yourself. After tossing and turning for an hour or two, you went for a short walk again.

You were surprised that no one stopped you, although you were not naïve enough to think no one was watching. You did not pause in front of the door this time, reaching your hand to the scanner and walking in when the display turned green.

You walked in, dim lighting greeted you. And there was Sanguinius, sitting with a book open in his lap, wearing a simple red robe. “Oh… um… sorry my Lord, sorry to interrupt, I’ll just..”

“Wait – wait.” And then, softer, “you don’t need to go.”

“I – um – “ you were suddenly conscious of the fact that you were wearing your night-robe. What had you been thinking? You know damn well what you were thinking. You tried to shake that thought off before he saw you blush.

Too late.

“Come here, please.” A request, but not one you ever could have refused. Even if you’d wanted to. He placed the book on the table next to him.

You walked closer, until you stood beside the Angel. You tried not to stare, tried not to feel the heat radiating from him – no wonder these rooms are so cold.  

He asked, with sincere curiosity, “why do you run?”

You mumbled something about “inappropriate.” He raised an eyebrow. “If it were inappropriate for you to be here, I would not have let you in.”

Of course. You felt silly. Why had you worried about being caught? The damn door had been coded to let you in, and there was only one person who could have authorized that. “What I’m afraid of,” you confessed, “is looking like a complete idiot in front of you, my Lord. Which I think I am right now.”

 Sanguinius graced you with a warm smile, and a look of kindness and understanding. He shook his head. “No, not at all.  You look like someone who has seen things that have no right to exist. And you survived, and you are whole. But you are easily startled now, and that is natural. It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

You relaxed, feeling more at ease. He was right, of course.

“I need to know something,” his eyes were still kind, but more intense. “Do you fear me?”

“No – no, of course not, my Lord,” you said. “You are our Primarch. Our Great Angel. You saved us all from - Why would I fear you?”

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He opened them, and left the chair. Wings rustling, the Angel went to his knees in front of you. He reached out and took your hands in his. Oh. So warm, strong, he held your hands as though they were a fragile treasure.  

“Because,” he said simply, “that is how I was made. My Father made me, along with my brothers, to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies.” He sighed, “and of course that means that we also leave our allies so bloody terrified that they can do nothing but obey us without question.”

He began gently stroking your hands. You wanted to hang on his every word, but it took effort to tear your focus from his touch.

“I am seen more as a symbol than a person. That is my role, and I gladly serve. I am more than human, but I am still human. The Imperium loves me from a distance,” he said almost wistfully, “but the moment I am close enough to a human to look them in the eye, I can sense their fear of me.”

“But not you. Somehow, not you.”

He lifted a hand to stroke the side of your face. And then – that look you had seen, in the eyes of your comrades, before they paired off and disappeared. The look of longing, the need to be held, and touched, and –

You saw that in the Angel’s eyes now, as he looked at you. Oh. Oh by all the stars yes.  And you knew he saw the same need in yours.

And you also realized, in that moment, how neatly you’d been caught. You’d been taken out of your barracks, far from your comrades, and placed in a gilded cage. And although the door was open, in truth you were only free to fly to him. The apex predator, who now held his prize in his hands.

It was good, then, that you couldn’t remember ever having wanted anything more.

The Angel caressed your cheek, then touched your lips, tracing them with his forefinger. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you nearly forgot to breathe. He leaned closer, until his lips were an inch from yours.

“May I kiss you?” he asked, and you found that you couldn’t form words. You nodded. Taking your inability to speak for hesitation, he asked again, “are you sure?” You still couldn’t speak, and you couldn’t wait. You reached up, slid your hands behind his neck, tangling in his soft, golden hair, and kissed him.

He started, surprised for a moment, and then kissed you back, hard and deep. Your knees went weak and it took effort to hold yourself up.

He broke the kiss, pressed his forehead to yours, breathing hard.  “I did not – expect that—”

“Too bold?” you asked, concerned.

“No – no, not at all. I mean that – when I am close to someone, in a duel, battle or – or like this,” he said, stroking the side of your face, “I usually see flashes, images, of what will happen next. Usually. But I see nothing of what you will do.”

Your mind spun. You tried to comprehend what it would be like to know, at the start of an intimate encounter, how it would end. You supposed you could avoid a lot of disappointment. But then, you would also lose the thrill of anticipation. It hardly seemed fair. He was quite possibly the most beautiful being in the whole galaxy, and –

And now, here you were, with him. A grin spread across your face that you hoped wasn’t too wicked.

His forefinger was on your lips again. You put it in your mouth.

He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he gave you a searing look that set every nerve in your body on fire.

“I think we should go to bed, yes?” he whispered.

You found your voice. “Yes.”

[askmalal]

“Can you name the twenty legions, their original names, and the Primarchs for me, please? Do you have any info on origins of the names used?”

I mean, certainly. Mortal channeling me regrets that some information is incomplete (pre-Primarch names for the Legiones Astartes are not well publicized; if you know any, feel free to let me know, and I will edit this document accordingly.)

You asked me for all twenty, so Legios II and XI may vary wildly for you, little mortal. The multiverse is a strange place.

Also, note: The mortal and I are not responsible for some of the terribly punny/badly respelled primarch’s names/hackneyed literary references. Those are -entirely- on Games Workshop.... and “The Emperor.” (Use your birth name, Anathaema!)

I. ?/Dark Angels: Lion’El Johnson (ne: Jonson)

For unknown reasons, Johnson is named for the famed English poet Lionel Johnson, Oscar Wilde’s paramour. There have been allegations that the Dark Angels were coded as gay very early on, whether as a joke or a tribute being the question. GW denies, of course, though as a matter of record a gay club called “The Rock” was located in Nottingham at the time.

The Dark Angels originally had a partly Native American theme.

II. Valedictors/Gargoyles: Eresbet, The Grey Lady”

The Valedictors really are named as one of the legions in 2nd edition, as are the Rainbow Warriors. The Rainboe Warriors have subsequently been relisted as a second founding chapter. The Valedictors, however, have not.The word Valedictor means “one who says goodbye.”

III. Emperor’s Children: Fulgrim, “The Phoenician”

IV. ?/Iron Warriors: Perturarbo

Sometimes spelled “Perturabo” in earlier sources. “Perdurabo” is a is a Latin phrase, roughly translated as “enduring to the end.” It was also the occult name of Aleister Crowley.

V. ?/White Scars: Jaghatai Khan

The Khan is now the only known Primarch of the eighteen to have no official miniature. He is quite challenging because, as with Magnus, the original sketches of the Khan are... let’s call them rough.

VI. ?/The Rout (“Space Wolves”): Leman Russ

The Russ were Vikings who intermarried with the inhabitants of what is called “Russia” in your timeline. These later served as mercenaries in the mid-late Eastern Roman/Byzantine Army.

The Varangian Guard/Varangioi were an elite group drawn from Vikings and their descendants. The “Varagyr” terminators are clearly based upon them.

VII. ?/Imperial Fists: Rogal Dorn

VIII. ?/Night Lords: Konrad Curze

Curze is named for Joseph Konrad, who wrote “Heart of Darkness” and that novel’s prime antagonist, Colonel Kurtz.

IX. Revenants/Blood Angels: Sanguinius

X. ?/Iron Hands: Ferrus Manus, “The Gorgon”

Ferrus Manus is bad Latin, erm, “High Gothic.” It roughly translates to “he with the iron hand.”

XI. Dust Raisers/Cu-Sith (“Hounds of Perdition”): Aenon, “The Blind King”

XIII. ?/Ultramarines: Roboute Guilliman

XIV. Dusk Raiders/Death Guard: Mortarion the Reaper

XV. “Thousand Sons”/Thousand Sons: Magnus the Red

The Fifteenth had no formal name before Magnus but were referred to unofficially as “the Thousand Sons” as a reference for their relatively low numbers and unselfish sacrifice. Per canon: Prior to Magnus, they had a sterling reputation for selflessness. Under Magnus, that sort of... changed, as the legion became more insular and less ���reliable” as an ally from the perspective of many of the other legions.

XVI. Luna Wolves/Sons of Horus: Horus Lupercal

Lupercal/Lupercalia was an important Roman holiday; the meaning and dates changed over the s centuries, but it was essentially a New Year festival that celebrated the birth of Romulus and Remus and, later, the overthrow of the Etruscan kings of Rome. In Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar,” Marc Antony references the attempt to have Caesar crowned as king, a staged political maneuver in which he refused the title of king and “accepted” the title “Dictator Perpetuus” (“Ruler for Life”)

“You all did see on Lupercal that I thrice presented him with kingly crown. And thrice doth he refuses. Was this ambition?! And yet Brutus says it was, and sure, he is an honorable man...”

XVII. Imperial Heralds/Word Bearers: Lorgar Aurelian

Aurelian was a Roman emperor, a rather good one, who attempted to create a new state religion dedicated to Sol Invictus, “The Sun, Unconquered.” Sol was at that point conflated with Mithras, who famously slew the black bull of Chaos, and saved the world from a reign of darkness.

We among the Dark Gods fear Mithras, with good reason. How fortunate that the Emperor’s arrogance caused him to be (mostly) forgotten.

XVIII. Dragon Warriors/Salamanders: Vulkan

Vulkan, of course, is the Roman version of Hephaestus, the humane god of the Forge.

Vulkan and his sons, the most humane of the Space Marines were traditionally depicted as predominantly men of color: an important thing for the mun as the young child of a mixed racial background, and I suspect for many non-white gamers. In a revision, GW claimed that the Salamanders were not “black” but -literally- black, as a result of a gene-seed flaw. That didn’t go over well with certain members of the community, but it is not my place to unpack that. Except to say, as someone from the outside, that it was a fairly shitty thing to do (both mun and Malal agree on this point.)

Horus Heresy literature seems to be going back in the direction of an African/Afro-Caribbean origin for the eighteenth. When released, official Vulkan model was painted as a man of color, and many gamers follow suit. Of course, given the current human population distribution, and the likely concentration of any apocalyptic war scenario leading to an Age of Strife and the rise of The Emperor, it seems very likely that a -majority- of Astartes would be men of color.

XIX. Possibly “Emperor’s Talons” or something similar/Raven Guard: Corvus Corax.

Yes. Fairly obvious here.

XX. Twentieth Legion/Alpha Legion: Alpharius Omegon

This is somewhat important as a matter of lore/canon: Only the Emperor seems to have known that (spoiler alert!)Alpharius and Omegon were twins. Valdor probably knew. Of the primarchs, Leman Russ seems to have suspected, and Corax is implied to be at about the same place, but that’s just about it.

Mun: I’ll try to post a bit later on about what little we know about the lost legions. Malal posted about the subject two years ago, but not many seem to have seen it. With his permission, I’ll try to condense the relevant points of official canon and share, if there is interest.

We sincerely thank you for your question, little mortal. Remember that you can send an ask rather than starting a private convo as in this case, but both are perfectly fine!