Another Necron. I Think He Saw Something... I Like Its Design.

...diseases rage, darkness is contagious...

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Akriss, new "Avatar of Corruption" and "Copycat", has returned in a new, full-fledged form. Not exactly a phoenix from the ashes, but something like that.

She's glowing! It's glowing! It wasn't part of the plan at all, but I like it anyway. Especially how the hair and eyes turned out, the effect and all that.

It's beautiful...

Small screenshots of the process and comparison :

P.S. : Program says that the work was done in 9:46... Beldam almost caught up with her at 10:04. Kira was done for 4 hours and a half... :'›

DARK FEATHERS (REQUEST TEASER) ────────────────

Horsemen x Crowfather's Heir! GN Reader ↳ a request submitted by @screechinginthevoid I'm (currently) working on. Unsure when to say this one will be coming out, it's gonna be quite long I imagine considering that I want to implement a lot of lore and history into this one, even from the book. Hopefully you enjoy this teaser though Jer! and know that I am working on this piece bit by bit!

As your first introduction with the four, it had been accidental at best. Honest. You never meant to intrude on your dear father or his business with the Nephilim soldiers and their commander. 

You entered their lives like a breath of fresh air. One they could finally swallow without fearing it would poison their lungs on the next gulp, that it didn’t taste of bitter ash and desolation. 

True and raw beauty incarnate, a mold of flawed perfection, so fragile and regal with a frightful innocence they cannot help but become allured by. 

Though utterly blindsighted to the improper enthrallment of their attention on you, the Crowfather sternly clears the ragged chimney of his old throat, beckoning the glowing orchestra of eyes to him again. And in turn, it brings you out from your own stupor, cheeks warmed to a degree you didn’t know was possible. 

“I finished inscribing those tomes for you.” Your voice is a euphoric and blended splendor of everything Heaven denied them. 

How could they have been warded off by the Keeper of Secrets from something so undeniably divine? 

“Good. You have done well, my child,” croaks the Crowfather. For the first time since they dared to step foot in his domain and obtain his audience, they saw the Old One’s lips fold into a tender smile. 

With a small bow of your head you then turn your eyes, shyly allowing your gaze to take in the four standing at the bottom of the darkened steps. 

“Dad,” you whisper lowly, sinking down to level yourself to where he sat on his throne. “Who are they?” 

“They are…” He hesitates a moment, eyes shrivelled into a narrowed vision as they flitter back and forth. The last thing he’d wish for is to scare you despite the terrible need of such an emotion. It will grant you a better understanding of the worlds and universe around you when you eventually take your place on the Veiled Throne of Secrets. 

“I shall explain later, child. Now off you go.” His long and jagged nail points forth in a direction that urges you with firm banishment. You knew that tone better than any living creature. His dismissal came in a coldly played act, a ploy meant to deceive any perception of your close relation to the Keeper; to protect you. 

“Y-yes, Crowfather.” 

You make good on his command and hastily walk towards the chamber’s archway, doing your best to hide your face from the Nephilim as you pass by them. You have to ignore the heated trance of their eyes following you as you do, failing when you let your eyes drift aside and make contact; an intimate fusion between which grants you a peeking view into the depths of their souls.

A mere stolen glance turned into a keen and flustered fascination. Forbidden and yet so desirably wanted all within one moment. One observant and not so secret study. So much for being the inheritor of the very one who upholds that principle. 

Your footfall fades into the distance and eventually the darkened trail of your robe reminiscent of the Keeper’s himself disappears out of sight. 

“I wasn’t aware that the Keeper of Secrets harboured a ward under his care.” Death says this with a lowered drawl that strums the deepened cords of his voice like a rustic purr. The Crowfather sneers, hearing the belittling snicker in the commander’s tone. 

Strife adds with a velveted chuckle, his body arched forward with a laced pounce, “And a rather fine looking one at that.”

Your father’s nails ring with a scraping claw against the stone arms of his throne, long and square teeth bared by his ferocious temper to restrain himself. The nerve of these insufferable creatures…

The four began to run errands for your father. Their presence came and went through the Veil and fortress. Attending jobs that required their expertise and skills, their other objectives that you suspect were related to their kin became abandoned, instead favoured by these visits. Whether to actually get into the good graces of your father or to have some excuse to run into you, you didn’t have a clue. 

Because of these visitations, it was expected that you would have your run-ins with the four, almost chased around as you meant to go about your business. Furthermore when affections began to rise it was also very futile for the Crowfather to intervene. Somehow your young heart was set as was the four Nephilim that pursued you.

How lovely! :0

brief break from my thesis to take the boys to the zoo and then mcdonals

i think they enjoyed it very much

I switch from one job to another - this is normal. But not well.

This time, it's the trio again. I will not give color and graphics to them soon, because :

1 - Beldam is still being transferred to the graphics.

2 - Akriss needs to be updated, so her image is fickle. Although I probably take some details from such sketches.

It's funny, but I never draw eyelids. That is, no, it's not like that. I have eyelids, but they are always shaded or shaded in black. This is sometimes noticeable in those characters who have relatively normal eyes or who do not have strong darkening. In the latter, I make it a little darker or a little lighter in the dark area of the eye. ;-;

My little friends are not happy. I took the weapons from them. Now they sitting, about something, silently, talking...

(Republishing.)

I see primarch x reader stuff where the primarch is a yandere every once in a while, and it always makes me think of Bellie Cawl. he would need zero alteration to his canon personality to be an absolute nightmare towards anyone he fell in love with

Recent Szeras commission! 💚

My last child from this dynasty! °^°

His look expresses a misunderstanding...

There will be something delicious soon...

Readiness : 2.5/3

The Flayer Hates(The Flayer Loves)

Warning: light gore

It doesn’t hurt, when you sink in the knives. It never does. This hate. This desire for an end. This vicious, burning thing that wants to eat all, trample all, tear all that shines down until they are as low as you are, as wretched of a creature as you have been. The sheer hatred that is not  cannot - be articulated, the ache in your bones that can only be stalled, never cured. The rage, the hate, the screams that died in cords unsung, the blind madness that will kill you before you could screech your hatred out to the stars.

The hunger that never ends. 

Skin. Teeth. Bones. Liver. Skull. You want to strip them away, flay them alive, feast upon them until they’re unidentifiable dust, you want to find those that betrayed you so utterly and shattered you Llandu'gor into oblivion, you want to find those who built citadels out of your skull and idols out of your bones and you want to beat them into dust. You want to smear their flesh across your unmoving jaws and separate their bones from their meat, you want to hear them scream as you have screamed, fading now, hear them decay limb by limb as you have rotted, drowning in the all-consuming night as you have drowned. 

You want to find their graves, you want to put them there, you want to grind their bones one by one into ash and sink sickle-claws down into their flesh until they bleed through metallic bones, until they scream with unmoving mouths, until they repent the sins of steel. You want to hear the crunch of bones squealing apart, the screech of metal torn to ash, the slow seeping of green ichor leaking from your clawed fingernails as you grind talons over a skull that was a face. To hear their joints creak, their limbs snap, rotate, twist and turn and pop, to tear apart metallic augments until they are mortal now, nothing but a weak, fleshy shell not even worthy of being called human, writhing on the ground, begging for forgiveness through a toothless mouth. Rip wires from pumping innards, tear tubing from limbs and spines, rip tails, talons, claws, wings, take tendrils and hear them crack, snapping inch by inch into twisted, worthless fragments.

You want to flay them alive. You want to give them flesh and take it away, you want to give them skin and eat it away, you want to rust their bones and breathe cancer over their steel, you want to make them hate as you have been hated. You want to turn them into you, a wretched, lonely thing screaming away in the dark. You want to find these helpless, mocking creatures, so weak, so loathsome in their aloneness, and you want to turn them into you. You want to flay them alive, make them bleed as you have bleed. You will turn them into your children, your flaws, your sins come to life. 

Find them, crush them, make them repent. Crush their steel into rust, cover their green ichor with black bile. Teach them the falsehoods of their love, how even their beloved obsessions hate them back, how they will never be loved again. Teach them the carnality of the endless hunger, the flesh and blood upon steel lips, of hate unending instead of joy, of hunger enduring instead of adoration. 

They will never be loved. You will find these lonely, forgotten, cast away creatures of steel, not flesh.

And you will love them. 

You are Llandu'gor, the Flayer. 

And you will make them love.

A black pen got into my hands...

Now I have cute sketches of my first three ladies! °^°

How I love to rejoice even in such small things...

Yes yes, I measure height in meters.