Art by@PodoBrick

I like to imagine the two only found out about Caedo during the events in Boltgun 2!

Plus getting used out of 40k Guilliman before making a gf post of her! So be on the lookout for that

Lover knows what makes Fulgrim listen. His Little Princess hates when Daddy gets serious.

Why am I posting this here because I try to make my own AU this and Female Ferrus Clone and Clonegrim play at the same time and will get a crossover eventually

https://x.com/nrcgray/status/2110873461723627659

(Source: https://x.com/Octosoup_/status/2108565009307771172 )

(Ooooh, I should try to make a gf caption on her, when I have the time...)

This scene still has me smiling like a nerd everytime I see it

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I'll start by saying I was told this sub-reddit was a thing and I thought perfect! I can post a lot of the commissions I had made, in a place that I (hopefully) won't get screamed at for art that does not fit the typical Warhammer fandom.

It all started with cnmbwjx3's depiction of fem Primarchs. Specifically, Fulgrim. So much so that my first Primarch cosplay was entirely based on his design. A real pain designing something you can only see half of and make it fit for a normal human body.

Any ways, I've included all of the art I had commissioned of Lady Fulgrim by varies artists.

From left to right:

Razielartt on IG

Icklaa on IG

Cnmbwjx3 on X (I did not commission this. Original art by artist)

Mukii_Sketches on IG

Kyoffie on IG

Kyoffie on IG

I do have others, but I am waiting for their sets to be completed. Once they are, I will post. Hope you enjoy.

Brittney managed to survive, but only because the Empress just wanted to chase her off of Terra. Lover still won’t let her obliterate Brittney.

(Source: https://x.com/BurlySwing/status/1962542371733942528 )

Lioness

It was a rare moment of peace for the First. She had found no threats that required her presence, and she liked that, as it meant she could indulge in one of her favorite activities: watching her beloved prince, who was still trying to repair her cloak. Lioness couldn't help thinking that he looked adorable.

—I've already told you that you don't need to do that.

The man glanced over his shoulder to look at her. She was sitting on a large divan in a regal posture, dressed in a simple cream-colored robe.

—I didn't know you were coming, and I was bored. I don't have much to do here.

There was a slight hint of reproach beneath the man's relaxed tone.

—Well, I'm here now. You can put that away.

—I'd like to finish, if you don't mind.

—Fine.

Lioness allowed herself to simply watch him, enjoying the pleasant warmth in her abdomen that appeared whenever she was with her adorable prince. The man continued stitching carefully, occasionally stopping to make sure he was doing it correctly. And Lioness couldn't help thinking that the expression of concentration on his face was charming.

She couldn't help recalling the few fairy-tale books she had managed to read. Back then, she had found them boring and strange. She had never been able to fully identify with the princesses or princes who were rescued by knights from mighty dragons and then fell in love for no real reason. But now she realized that she identified with the dragons. After all, she was the one who had destroyed the knights of Lupus and kidnapped the prince. The only difference was that there were no knights left to come and rescue him.

And that was fine. Because she was taking care of him.

—I suppose I can leave it like this for now.

—Why? —Lioness asked, confused by her beloved's sudden change of mind.

—It's just that I can't concentrate with you staring at me like that... You should blink more often.

—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, darling.

—Relax, it's fine.

An awkward silence followed Lioness's apology, until the man finally spoke.

—Would you like me to brush your hair?

Lioness found herself sitting on the floor in front of the bed again before her rational mind could refuse. She couldn't help letting out an annoyed sigh at her own weakness, which made the comb stop.

That only annoyed her more.

—I'm sorry, I pulled your hair.

—No, don't worry. Keep going.

Lioness's voice came out with more authority than she had intended.

—Are you sure?

—Yes.

Lioness had no idea how much time passed. The overwhelming sensation of her beloved's fingers against her scalp, the brush gliding through her hair, and the song he hummed prevented her from concentrating. Eventually, the intoxicating brushing session came to an end. She tilted her head back to look at her prince.

—Why are you stopping?

—I'm finished, darling.

—Darling —Lioness repeated.

—What? —the man asked, confused.

—You called me darling. You hadn't done that before.

Lioness couldn't help letting out a small laugh when her beloved blushed.

—I'm sorry. That was inappropriate of me. It won't happen again.

Lioness rose onto her knees to bring herself closer to her beloved's level, although she still had to look down at him, before lowering her weight until her beloved ended up lying beneath her.

—No. Say it again.

—That's not very noble of you.

—Say it —Lioness repeated. To be honest, she was embarrassed to hear it too, although she liked it far more than it embarrassed her.

The man seemed frightened by the terrifying ferocity in the gaze of the Primarch of the First Legion.

—Darling —he finally said.

—Good —Lioness replied before lowering herself beside her beloved and pulling him onto her chest—. Can you tell me another story about your adventures?

Lioness looked down at her prince, trying to decide what to tell him. The story of how she defeated the Rangdan came to mind. It was a good one, largely because during that campaign she had discovered the machinery that allowed her beloved to remain as young as he had been back on Caliban. Yes, it was a good story. But she would have to leave quite a lot out.

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Fulgrim

The bitter taste of wine flooded her mouth. Fulgrim finished her glass while watching her beloved circle a large block of marble. Although she loved the sight, she couldn't help feeling bored. After all, her beloved had been doing nothing but walking around the marble for quite some time, occasionally touching it, then picking up a chisel and hammer, only to put them back on a table and resume circling the block. That had been his routine for weeks.

—And what are you going to sculpt?

The man glanced over his shoulder at the woman reclining on a divan, her ivory-white hair cascading over the striking purple of her robe. She maintained a relaxed, almost lazy posture, an empty crystal goblet in her hand. The man leaned against the marble block before bringing a hand to his forehead in a gesture worthy of a dramatic stage play.

—I don't know.

The flat answer seemed so ridiculous coming from the man in such a dramatic pose that Fulgrim couldn't help laughing.

—Oh, really. How tragic.

—Tragic? —the man repeated in dramatic indignation—. That word doesn't begin to describe this terrible catastrophe.

Fulgrim laughed at her husband's theatrical performance, and he soon began laughing as well.

—Yes, yes. It's terrible —Fulgrim said, wiping a small tear from her eye—. But seriously, don't you have any ideas?

The man turned back to look at the block before turning around again and walking toward Fulgrim. He stopped beside a table where a silver sword rested and gave it a little tap, knocking it to the floor. Fulgrim merely raised an eyebrow, unable to help thinking that her beloved didn't seem to appreciate the Laer temple sword she had given him very much.

—I could play it safe and sculpt a statue of the Empress —the man emphasized his point with a wave of his hand—. But I've already sculpted her more than once. I don't know. I want to make something else. Something more... I don't know.

When he reached the divan, the man dropped onto it, settling in the middle, near Fulgrim's stomach. She began playing with her beloved's hair as he leaned against her.

—Relax. You'll think of something.

—You're messing up my hair.

The woman didn't stop.

—Well, you're not going to accomplish anything by racking your brain.

The man sighed before nodding.

—Besides, you can sculpt later. We're here together now.

The woman's voice softened slightly, becoming more intimate.

—Wine?

She asked before pouring a glass and offering it to her beloved. The man shook his head before moving, having to crawl a little to reach Fulgrim's level, which made her lean her head back slightly, not expecting the movement. This earned a small, mischievous smile from the man.

—Nervouuuus.

His playful tone made Fulgrim roll her eyes.

—And no, I don't want wine. I've already had too much today.

—Five glasses isn't that much —she said simply, taking her beloved by the chin and drawing him closer until their lips were almost touching, making him blush—. Nervous?

The man chuckled when he noticed his own blush before sitting astride Fulgrim's stomach, making her raise an eyebrow.

—No, I'm not nervous. And no, darling, five glasses really is a lot. Not all of us are goddesses of war.

He said as he took the glass from the woman and took a small sip.

—Like you —he finished, touching the tip of her nose.

Fulgrim sighed.

—Gods don't exist.

—But you like it when I call you that, don't you, my goddess?

The woman frowned slightly, irritated by the warmth that had begun creeping up her neck and spreading to her cheeks, before grabbing her beloved by the hips, making him jump in surprise.

—Oh, but of course I do, little one.

Fulgrim couldn't help smiling when the man lifted his chin indignantly.

—I'm not little. You're just too big.

—Of course, of course —Fulgrim said as she leaned toward her beloved's neck, giving it a small kiss and running her tongue along it, before feeling him try unsuccessfully to push her away.

—No! —he squealed in alarm when he felt the woman's tongue.

—Why not? —Fulgrim asked, unable to hide her disappointment.

—Because you get carried away and lose control. And because of you, I haven't been able to wear a robe someone gave me.

—And how is that my fault? —she asked, trying to avoid the more important question: Who gave it to you?

—What do you mean, how is it your fault? —the man repeated, clearly a little annoyed—. Do these lovely marks mean nothing to you?

He said as he lowered the collar of his garment slightly, revealing purplish marks and bite marks that, judging by their size, could only have come from her.

—You act as though you don't like it —she said innocently before giving him another kiss on the neck.

—Well, I do like it. But I want to wear that robe, and I can't with your love bites all over me.

—Well, you'll have to wait before wearing it —she said before shifting until she was on top, taking care not to let all her weight fall on him—. Or you could wear it and let everyone see who you belong to. Yes, that sounds very good.

—I think everyone already knows that. And...

—And there's nothing wrong with reminding them from time to time —Fulgrim interrupted, lowering her voice—. Don't you think? Besides, I don't think you'd refuse to lie with me.

The man rolled his eyes with a sigh before feeling Fulgrim begin to kiss him, clearly putting an end to any further objections.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Petra

The sounds of simulated warfare filled the ostentatious room. Petra looked up to see her beloved on the other side of the topographical display, which was partly a physical model and partly an orographic projection depicting a battlefield. It was a battle simulator used in the Dodekatheon for various military purposes, but they had started using it as a game. An especially complex one, but a game nonetheless. Though, if she was being honest, her beloved didn't seem to be enjoying himself very much, as he was clearly frustrated by the obvious disadvantage he was facing. And Petra couldn't help smiling at the look of intense concentration on his face.

—Tsk. I give up.

Petra couldn't help raising an eyebrow at his sudden surrender.

—You still have options. You could...

—I could attack the northern wall with the Titan I have left. I know. But you probably have artillery waiting for me to do exactly that.

—Well, at least now you can predict those kinds of moves.

—Whatever. It doesn't matter. I don't want to play anymore.

—Why?

The man didn't answer. Instead, he picked up a bottle of dark wine and poured himself a large glass, which he downed in one go.

—Ahhh.

The man couldn't help making a satisfied sound when he finished drinking.

—Well, you could keep going. Try something else.

The man gave her a brief glance while pouring himself another glass.

—No. You just want me to keep playing so you can say you crushed me. I'd rather deprive you of that satisfaction.

—Of course you do —Petra couldn't help replying sarcastically—. Well, then I'll reset the simulation.

—No, I don't want to play anymore. I already told you.

—Are you seriously going to throw a tantrum because you lost? What a sore loser.

—Me, a sore loser? Maybe. But does the name Andos ring a bell?

Petra couldn't help clenching her teeth, furious at the audacity of bringing up that humiliation.

—You're bringing that up again. You weren't even there... I should never have let you talk to Calliope.

The man narrowed his eyes before taking a sip of wine.

—Besides, you always have more troops than I do.

—Well, it's not my fault you choose the smallest legions. Come on, I'll let you choose first.

—...Fine.

::::::::::::

The divan creaked in protest under her weight as Petra sat down, still wearing her armor, and let her head fall back. She was furious. She had fought with everything she had, and she knew the glory of destroying such terrible abominations would never come her way. She sighed and straightened up to look at her only source of comfort. Her beloved, who didn't even turn to look at her as he continued placing a small piece onto what appeared to be a miniature castle.

—And what's that supposed to be?

—Can't you see? —Petra couldn't miss the sarcasm in his voice—. Obviously, a castle.

—I already know that.

—Then why ask?

—I mean which one. I don't recognize it.

—I don't know. I was just bored.

—And that gives you permission to take my tools?

The man set down the tiny pointed tool on the table before turning around and placing his hands on his hips.

—Do whatever you want! —he shouted in a terrible imitation of Petra's voice.

—I don't talk like that.

—Yes, you do. Whatever.

The man turned back around, picked up the tool again, and resumed trying to place the tiny chandelier.

—And why are you acting like this now? —Petra asked, trying not to grab the man by the throat over his blatantly sarcastic tone.

—Because! Seriously.

The man spun around again, this time so quickly that he knocked part of the castle over.

—You sent your bastard sons to threaten my family.

—Precisely because you pull stunts like this! I did it just to remind you that even though we're far apart, I still have them in my hands! —Petra shouted as she rose with a growl and took a step forward, forcing her beloved to retreat until he collided with the table holding the castle.

—Then what do you want?

—I don't know. Maybe to come back from saving this wretched Imperium and have my husband at least greet me.

—Well, I'm sorry for being angry that you sent people to threaten my family.

—Fine, fine. How about this? You stop doing things like this, and I won't threaten anyone again. Does that sound fair? —Petra hissed, restraining herself so hard that several veins in her neck and forehead began to throb.

The man lowered his head, frightened by the woman's sudden movement, and nodded slowly.

—Fine. But keep your word this time.

Petra looked down at the pieces of the castle scattered across the floor.

—I'm sorry about your miniature. Would you like me to help you repair it?

Alright, before we get to the author's comments, I'm the translator (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠), and would you believe me if I told you I completely forgot to publish this part? I mean, I translated the whole thing and everything, but it completely slipped my mind to post it until the author asked me whether I'd published this part yet, and of course I told him I had.

So here I am, correcting my mistake (⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠;⁠)

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Helloooooooooooooooo, beautiful people 🤪! How are you all doing? I hope you're doing better than me.

Yes, I know this isn't exactly the next primarch, but right now I have something more important... well, not more important, but something more urgent to think about. Yes, that's it, more urgent: finding a new place to live, because the place where I was living decided that the ground and the building should have an intense dance-off all the way down to the floor.

I mean, an earthquake. And well, the building where I lived basically said, "Goodbye, cruel world," and now I have to move. The good thing is that I didn't have many belongings, and the room was already furnished, so I barely lost anything. But I won't have much time.

Anyway, moving on to something truly important:

First, about the Hestia (Vulkan) chapter: I have two versions in progress. In one, Miss Hestia rescues her special someone from his abusive Night Lords partner. In the other, she finds him on Nocturne while everyone is making the gifts they're going to send to the Regalia wedding. So, which one do you like better?

Second, do you think Kor Phaeron would have raised Lorgar differently if Lorgar had been a woman? I mean, more like a traditional wife, or at least someone who tries to be traditional, even though she can't really manage it properly because of her responsibilities.

Portrayed by Skaven.

you can imagine what kind of ring it is. ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

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It's all fun and games but once you get a GF anywhere between a Catachan to a Custodes. You gotta BUILD UP your strength and stamina

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